Saturday 29 November 2008

Busy busy

I look back at my week, in a rare pause-for-breath moment. I can't quite believe how hectic it has been. It's Saturday now, and my to-do list is still long. Some with school, some with home. No real pause-for-breath time yet.

This week I have had over 20 parent interviews. That's not much - I'm not a secondary teacher so don't see a lot of students, just my little flock to nurture through this year.

I have written around 10,000 - yes, ten thousand, that WAS the right number of noughts - words. No, not a dissertation - just end of term reports on around a dozen different subjects for each child.

I have planned and organised a cross-curricular day, incorporating History, English, Geography, Maths, Science, PSHE, PE, Drama and Art.

I have been to a church committee meeting, having great fun thinking about our vision and values - who we are.

I have been to a wonderful celebration where Christians from all over our tiny island, from many different churches, gathered together to worship and pray.

I wouldn't have missed any of that for the world.

I love meeting parents, allaying their anxieties about their children, celebrating progress made, gaining an insight into the kids I teach.
I love writing reports: reflecting on the progress the children have made and where I want to take them to next.
I love 'different' days where we dress up and follow a theme throughout the day. It makes learning so much more relevant.
I love being part of an active church which seeks to honour God in everything it does.
I love worshipping God with music, poetry and prayer. I love seeing Him at work in my life and the lives of those I love.

Would I miss any of these to be a little less busy?

No.

(Though the ten thousand words were too many to write... I'd like to do fewer of those next time).

Thursday 27 November 2008

SOoo Excited!

I'm so excited about tomorrow. Me, 36 eager little boys, and 4 other teachers.
I'm not so sure the teachers are quite as excited as I am, but they're humouring me. We're having a cross-curricular day at school.

The theme is 15th Century Explorers.

We come dressed as sailors from the era of Columbus. We're going to be writing ships' logs and making replica leather bound books -it's amazing what you can do with cardboard, glue, paper towels and brown paint. Plus a little bronze or copper gilding... We'll draw navigational instruments, ships, describe the living conditions onboard ship, keep a record of all those who have died of scurvy.

Our maths will include working out directions for locating treasure on a desert island: angles, bearings, scale...

We'll be collecting rations for the ships' crews, working out a balanced diet by trading for the right amount of foodstuffs. Some of our sailors will receive training in first aid for accidents and other medical emergencies. Others will be taught about the dangers of sunstroke and skin damage.

Best of all - we're all dressing up! Now, where did I put my wooden leg...?

November 27th

It's a strange time of year for us.
Today would have been my father's eighty-fifth birthday. He died of ill-health just over two years ago. Longing, by the end, to go. I don't remember the date of his dying - it took some time. I remember his birth with thanks.
Two days ago, thirteen years ago, my brother died suddenly. He had so much to live for - a happy marriage, a three year old daughter, a baby son. A life wiped out in an instant, a shared life taken from them all.
A lost future.
Now the daughter is sixteen.
Thirteen years, and life has gone on.

Saturday 22 November 2008

The ultimate compliment - for a teacher

'Mummy..' said Alex, absorbed in his work but needing just a little bit of help.
The only problem was that he wasn't at home. He was at school. In class.
'Mummy' was me. His teacher.

A tremendous compliment for me.
Not so much for his mum. She's maybe a couple of decades younger. Dark and pretty.

Great fun, though. Lots of giggling - from Alex, from me, from his friends.

Friday 21 November 2008

Questions and answers

The Son rang today and had a good chat with his father. They talked about surfing: wetsuits, surfboards, waves, breaks... There was a mention that he was working on an essay at the moment, but that was the gist of the (long) conversation.

That is not at all the conversation he might have had with his mother.

She has all kinds of questions. What is he eating? How is he getting on with his work? Has he had any essays marked yet? Does he have any holiday work fixed up? How is church going? Does he know when he is coming home?

Pragmatic questions. I would probably not dare ask them all - it would seem like an inquisition. He'll tell me, in time. I know which conversation he would prefer to have.

Wednesday 19 November 2008

Longing

I've become somewhat raw recently. Not in a bad sense, but a feeling of being raw and open to others' wounds. It saddens me when I feel the difficulties others are facing: ill-health; redundancy - without the financial package, just a week's wages; the break-up of a relationship.

It is all loss - of security, of direction, of hope, of joy.

Often, though, I can help in a small way. I can visit, I can empathize, I can provide practical care, I can give a listening ear.

The saddest is when I am raw to others' lack of a sense of purpose. They are looking - but cannot find, because they do not know where to look. How can I help them to do that? How do I find the right words?

The only way I can help is to pray. For them, for myself - for awareness, for knowing what to say and when to say it. For them.

Sunday 16 November 2008

Links

We have just made acquaintance with a family who we might have met, twenty odd years ago: almost twenty years exactly, to be precise. (I say 'might have' because we discovered we had all gone to the same conference, at the same time, but do not remember ever meeting.) In Kenya, where we have all lived, loved, worked...

So we are sitting together, the conversation flying with 'Do you know...?' and 'Do you remember...?' until we must, in the space of an hour or so, have mentioned over a hundred names.

And here we are in Guernsey.

And what I am wondering, is, Why?

Why, God, have you brought us together? For what purpose? For there is purpose in everything, our task is to find out what GOD's purpose is in the everything.

Apart from a delightful sense of community, what is your purpose here, O God?

I am wondering.

Thursday 13 November 2008

I do not miss... and yet I do.

I do not miss
Waking at night,
Heart afraid
Mind racing
Skin crawling with the sweat of fear.

I do not miss
The tension of a drive
On a simple errand
Looking around
Wondering if I am the next
To be hijacked

I do not miss
Having to deal with
Poverty in my face
At my gate
Looking in my door
When I am helpless to help

I do not miss
Living stretched
In a society of gross inequality
The uncaring fat cats
Treading on the powerless

I do NOT miss these things.

Yet I miss

Laughter in the face of adversity
Smiling faces
Reflecting the joy of simply being alive

Compassion in misfortune
The kindness in the night
Of strangers to the unknown

Generosity from those who have
Scarcely enough for themselves
Not enough to share, too little to give away

An irrepressible optimism
A gentle trust in a God
Who loves us more than we can ever know.

I miss these things.

Tuesday 11 November 2008

Little steps of encouragement

Some friends have been going through a hard time recently. I've been sending brief emails of encouragement: not my own words, usually, but Bible verses which have encouraged us in the past.
This was today's: I just love it. It has meant so much to us as a family.

Psalm 33:17 - 22:
A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save.
But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love,
to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.
We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.
In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name.
May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.

This is one of our favourite verses. Our friend Bob gave it to us almost 10 years ago, and it is so true. We wait indeed in hope for the Lord. Where else does help come from? Where else?
Nowhere else.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end...
They are new every morning, new every morning,
Great is your faithfulness, O Lord,
Great is your faithfulness.

Don't you just love that song?

Monday 10 November 2008

What do we do about the chicken?

Mama Kuku is now well established at home.
No longer 'it' she is now 'she'.
Someone suggested we call her Helen.
(I'm not sure why.)
She potters around under the bird feeder, coming up to talk to us when we go outside, asking for food.
She's almost scary at times, chasing after us, clucking demandingly.

But I didn't ask for a chicken.
I didn't want a chicken.
I don't want to chase her away, but she's here - to stay, it seems.
What now?

Friday 7 November 2008

What are they thinking?

What do dogs think, anyway?
I pulled out a reel of thread and a needle today to do some mending.
The dog went crazy.
He jumped up at me, reaching for the thread - fortunately, he wasn't interested in needle). What did he think it was? Nothing edible, surely?

And how come he knows what I'm thinking?
How does he know when I'm going out in the car and intend to take him with me, and when I don't?
How does he know when I have decided to take him for a walk, before I have even moved a muscle to fetch his lead?
How does he know that what I am eating is truly delicious for dogs, as he sits watching, gaze unnerving me into sharing.
How does he know?

Thursday 6 November 2008

Walk to the beach

How privileged I am to live here. Almost very time I step outside, I thank God for the beauty of this little island.
This morning I ran the dog to the beach: two fields, a lane and a handful of houses away.
A huge flock of starlings flew off and over the coastal path as we approached, in a sudden swoop, synchronised as one.
A dozen oyster catchers flew further down the shore, squeaking in annoyance, as the dog rushed in abandon into the waves.
A few turnstones were doing what they do best: hobbling among the seaweed, poking for edible morsels, oblivious to their neighbours.
A kestrel dived, then hovered, eyes intent on a tiny creature hidden in the grass.
What a gift to start my day!

Monday 3 November 2008

Sorrow and laughter

Small boy arrives this morning, looking rather upset.
"Did you have a good weekend?" I ask.
"No, my gerbil died." With the reply, the floodgates open.
Streaming eyes, running nose, heaving chest.
Eventually I am able to ask questions and commiserate.
I learn that Pop, the world's best gerbil ever, (siblings named Snap and Crackle) was three years old. He would come rushing up when the cage was opened, nose sniffling in greeting. His coat was silky and beautiful. He could count up to ten and had a vocuabulary of twenty words.
The last sentence isn't true: anything is possible, such is the allure of a lost pet.
"Did you have a funeral for him?" I ask, finally.
"No. We only found the tail."
By some miracle, I manage not to splutter with laughter.
I provide a piece of card on which to design a memorial plaque for the cage.
It reads:
Here lies Pop, my best gerbil ever.
The tears dry up, at last.
An easy solution for a complex problem.