Christmas happened. Days full of fun and laughing until our sides ached. Good food - more than enough, but not too much. Hanging out together. Sunshine, fresh breeze, sparkling waves. Many moments of amusing dog.
And the joy of reading news from friends around the world. Marriages, births, new pathways, things to give thanks for...
Jesus came: then, and now.
Don't you wish Christmas happened every day? May it be so.
Sunday 27 December 2009
Thursday 24 December 2009
Christms Eve
It's Christmas Eve. No doubt, bloggers - and others - all over the world will be reflecting on Christmas - the true meaning, the busyness, the festivities, the hype...
So here's my little morsel to add to the feast.
So it's Christmas Eve. I had to say it again to convince myself, because in many ways it doesn't feel like it. It's just a date. 24th December. Do I really feel the excitement, the anticipation of Christ coming into my life? Our lives?
Not yet. I will do, in the quiet of the midnight service, but not yet.
I still have a lot of little things to do. I am worryingly completely unstressed about them. Which means they may not get done. So I'll need to prioritise tasks and time, because if stuff doesn't get done... well, that's not what's important.
Yet some tasks are. I've sent many Christmas cards, but reconnecting with friends by email, telling them we remember and love them, IS important. That's what I should be doing by now. That's what I WILL be doing in a few minutes.
Preparing dishes for tomorrow's meal, which we will be sharing with friends, IS important. My friend Jane is doing most of the work and I am making a relatively small contribution. So, doing it is the least I can do. Just remembered: I'll need to make a trip to the shops, too. Most of my shopping I did yesterday, meeting half a dozen different friends in one store so it wasn't a chore at all, more like an ambulatory coffee morning without the coffee.
Writing a card for a recently bereaved friend. Dark times. ESSENTIAL.
Taking Christmas goodies to another dear friend. ESSENTIAL.
Spending time with my husband on his day off. IMPORTANT. I should say ESSENTIAL, but he has a whole 3 days so we will have more time than just today. Yet TODAY is important.
Decorating the Christmas cake. A family ritual involving too much icing and not enough marzipan. There is NEVER enough marzipan.
Adding more decorations to the house? Well, I've been - and still am - sick, so that doesn't need to be done. Tree and lights are up, cookies are baked, so if I do any more decorating or baking it will be a bonus, because I'll be doing it with my lovely daughter. Us time.
What else, if I have time? Well, making a few phone calls; hanging out with my two kids when they are home from work; meeting friends before we all go off to church.
What a lovely day - and now, I feel excited in the anticipation of Jesus' birthday. And his presence in my heart. How do I put a smiley face on here?
So here's my little morsel to add to the feast.
So it's Christmas Eve. I had to say it again to convince myself, because in many ways it doesn't feel like it. It's just a date. 24th December. Do I really feel the excitement, the anticipation of Christ coming into my life? Our lives?
Not yet. I will do, in the quiet of the midnight service, but not yet.
I still have a lot of little things to do. I am worryingly completely unstressed about them. Which means they may not get done. So I'll need to prioritise tasks and time, because if stuff doesn't get done... well, that's not what's important.
Yet some tasks are. I've sent many Christmas cards, but reconnecting with friends by email, telling them we remember and love them, IS important. That's what I should be doing by now. That's what I WILL be doing in a few minutes.
Preparing dishes for tomorrow's meal, which we will be sharing with friends, IS important. My friend Jane is doing most of the work and I am making a relatively small contribution. So, doing it is the least I can do. Just remembered: I'll need to make a trip to the shops, too. Most of my shopping I did yesterday, meeting half a dozen different friends in one store so it wasn't a chore at all, more like an ambulatory coffee morning without the coffee.
Writing a card for a recently bereaved friend. Dark times. ESSENTIAL.
Taking Christmas goodies to another dear friend. ESSENTIAL.
Spending time with my husband on his day off. IMPORTANT. I should say ESSENTIAL, but he has a whole 3 days so we will have more time than just today. Yet TODAY is important.
Decorating the Christmas cake. A family ritual involving too much icing and not enough marzipan. There is NEVER enough marzipan.
Adding more decorations to the house? Well, I've been - and still am - sick, so that doesn't need to be done. Tree and lights are up, cookies are baked, so if I do any more decorating or baking it will be a bonus, because I'll be doing it with my lovely daughter. Us time.
What else, if I have time? Well, making a few phone calls; hanging out with my two kids when they are home from work; meeting friends before we all go off to church.
What a lovely day - and now, I feel excited in the anticipation of Jesus' birthday. And his presence in my heart. How do I put a smiley face on here?
Wednesday 23 December 2009
Quiet but busy
Nothing written here for a while - busyness and illness overtook.
Consider this: I have had both ordinary flu jab (at the end of October) and the swine flu jab (at the end of November - 23rd, to be precise).
So what happens?
6th December, I get sick. Sore throat, cold, cough etc etc. Stagger in and out of school, finish term still coughing, then develop various other symptoms, 2 days in bed as of yesterday...the most ill I have been in one stretch for YEARS. Coincidence?
Anyway, I am inspired to write a note regarding the entertainment of and by Guernsey Police.
Incident 1: young friend of J and C comes to visit. Unsure of the turning off the main road, he slows down in good time so that he doesn't miss it. And is stopped by the police for 'erratic, aka too slow, driving'. Breathalysed, papers checked, the lot. Couldn't find anything wrong so they gave him an 'official warning'. Of what, he wasn't - and still isn't - sure. With the rider that 'if it happens again, it'll be a VPI for you, mate'.
'What's a VPI?' he asked.
'A pain in the arse for you,' was the reply as they drove off. Laughing.
Incident 2:
Son, returning home from church youth group Christmas dinner, followed and then stopped by police.
Police: "Sir, you are driving erratically. Have you been drinking?"
Son: "No."
Police: "That's all right then. But you are driving too fast." (The top speed limit in Guernsey is 35 mph.)
Son: "Oh no, I was speeding!"
Police: "You were doing 40mph. That is not speeding by any stretch of your imagination. No, the road is wet and slippery."
I'm not sure where the conversation went after that....
I wonder, is it boring being on police patrol?
Consider this: I have had both ordinary flu jab (at the end of October) and the swine flu jab (at the end of November - 23rd, to be precise).
So what happens?
6th December, I get sick. Sore throat, cold, cough etc etc. Stagger in and out of school, finish term still coughing, then develop various other symptoms, 2 days in bed as of yesterday...the most ill I have been in one stretch for YEARS. Coincidence?
Anyway, I am inspired to write a note regarding the entertainment of and by Guernsey Police.
Incident 1: young friend of J and C comes to visit. Unsure of the turning off the main road, he slows down in good time so that he doesn't miss it. And is stopped by the police for 'erratic, aka too slow, driving'. Breathalysed, papers checked, the lot. Couldn't find anything wrong so they gave him an 'official warning'. Of what, he wasn't - and still isn't - sure. With the rider that 'if it happens again, it'll be a VPI for you, mate'.
'What's a VPI?' he asked.
'A pain in the arse for you,' was the reply as they drove off. Laughing.
Incident 2:
Son, returning home from church youth group Christmas dinner, followed and then stopped by police.
Police: "Sir, you are driving erratically. Have you been drinking?"
Son: "No."
Police: "That's all right then. But you are driving too fast." (The top speed limit in Guernsey is 35 mph.)
Son: "Oh no, I was speeding!"
Police: "You were doing 40mph. That is not speeding by any stretch of your imagination. No, the road is wet and slippery."
I'm not sure where the conversation went after that....
I wonder, is it boring being on police patrol?
Sunday 6 December 2009
Subversive Gospel
My friend Bob, a great Christian missionary to the nations in the US, put this on his blog:
Subversive Gospel
The essence of our message, the very person we represent and proclaim is counter to the system and values of society, of humanity as it has developed. It seeks to recruit and train a band of rebels who will fight for and even die for the principles of Jesus. This gospel is disgusted at the way things are. Where there is division and segregation and prejudice, it proclaims unity and mutual respect. Where there is injustice, abuse, cruelty, it preaches and demonstrates compassion and fairness. Where there is addiction and imprisonment, it proclaims true freedom and forgiveness. Where there is pride and power, it topples the high and mighty, empowering those with no voice. Where there is ignorance and eternal condemnation, it proclaims forgiveness of sins and eternal life. The kingdom of God quietly undermines the kingdom of this world as a counter-insurgency.
When the gospel takes root and grows up among a group of people, all of whom ascribe allegiance to their revolutionary Leader, they become an infiltrating force seeking to overthrow the bastions of evil that are well-entrenched but must be changed. Their methods are as revolutionary as their agenda. For one, they are not physically violent, unwilling to destroy property or harm life in any form. They don't take up arms, nor are their means political in nature. Legislation, maneuvering from state capitols, alliances with money and power--these are not the ways of the Jesus followers. Nor is economic clout which buys favor or brings cosmetic change that can be outdone by another surge in spending. No, the subversive gospel overturns bastions of pride with humility, of hate with love, of evil with good.
People of the gospel infiltrate family and society where they live as the Master did. In business they treat others with fairness and respect. In their homes they nurture spouses and children and parents for their good. In neighborhoods they show compassion and helpfulness. Their speech is gracious while truthful. Their pocketbooks proclaim honesty and generosity. When wronged, they forgive and even counter offense with a favor. When persecuted they bear it as a privilege. When seeing the work of evil well-disguised in society, their hearts break with compassion. They become known not for self-righteous criticism of those who differ, but for holding firmly for truth while lovingly correcting those who disagree. In this way whole cities hear of these unusual people who love each other sacrificially, who refuse to cheat or gossip, who live for another world that is yet to come, and who work now to bring in the character of that world for the blessing of all.
This is the subversive gospel that quietly topples grand towers of egotism. This is the message that confronts pride by its resilient weakness. This is the good news to thirsty souls that have grown tired of fighting for status. This is the embodiment of the Revolutionary in the people who follow Him. This is a pursuit worth commiting ones entire life to. And that is what I have done.
This was my comment:
I love this, Bob, especially the last two paragraphs. How often we fall short, but to hold fast to the values of fairness, respect, compassion and helpfulness is something to aim for and to perfect.
As for the last two sentences - that is my prayer. And that I DO commit my ENTIRE life. Without distraction.
I so wish.
Subversive Gospel
The essence of our message, the very person we represent and proclaim is counter to the system and values of society, of humanity as it has developed. It seeks to recruit and train a band of rebels who will fight for and even die for the principles of Jesus. This gospel is disgusted at the way things are. Where there is division and segregation and prejudice, it proclaims unity and mutual respect. Where there is injustice, abuse, cruelty, it preaches and demonstrates compassion and fairness. Where there is addiction and imprisonment, it proclaims true freedom and forgiveness. Where there is pride and power, it topples the high and mighty, empowering those with no voice. Where there is ignorance and eternal condemnation, it proclaims forgiveness of sins and eternal life. The kingdom of God quietly undermines the kingdom of this world as a counter-insurgency.
When the gospel takes root and grows up among a group of people, all of whom ascribe allegiance to their revolutionary Leader, they become an infiltrating force seeking to overthrow the bastions of evil that are well-entrenched but must be changed. Their methods are as revolutionary as their agenda. For one, they are not physically violent, unwilling to destroy property or harm life in any form. They don't take up arms, nor are their means political in nature. Legislation, maneuvering from state capitols, alliances with money and power--these are not the ways of the Jesus followers. Nor is economic clout which buys favor or brings cosmetic change that can be outdone by another surge in spending. No, the subversive gospel overturns bastions of pride with humility, of hate with love, of evil with good.
People of the gospel infiltrate family and society where they live as the Master did. In business they treat others with fairness and respect. In their homes they nurture spouses and children and parents for their good. In neighborhoods they show compassion and helpfulness. Their speech is gracious while truthful. Their pocketbooks proclaim honesty and generosity. When wronged, they forgive and even counter offense with a favor. When persecuted they bear it as a privilege. When seeing the work of evil well-disguised in society, their hearts break with compassion. They become known not for self-righteous criticism of those who differ, but for holding firmly for truth while lovingly correcting those who disagree. In this way whole cities hear of these unusual people who love each other sacrificially, who refuse to cheat or gossip, who live for another world that is yet to come, and who work now to bring in the character of that world for the blessing of all.
This is the subversive gospel that quietly topples grand towers of egotism. This is the message that confronts pride by its resilient weakness. This is the good news to thirsty souls that have grown tired of fighting for status. This is the embodiment of the Revolutionary in the people who follow Him. This is a pursuit worth commiting ones entire life to. And that is what I have done.
This was my comment:
I love this, Bob, especially the last two paragraphs. How often we fall short, but to hold fast to the values of fairness, respect, compassion and helpfulness is something to aim for and to perfect.
As for the last two sentences - that is my prayer. And that I DO commit my ENTIRE life. Without distraction.
I so wish.
Sunday 29 November 2009
Stopping, stopped
Lovely ladies breakfast here yesterday. up to a dozen of us - different women every time, although there are a one or two constant regulars - who gather round my big table to chat.
It's a breather for those of us who work full-time Monday to Friday. And I know that EVERYONE is busy... but homemakers have other opportunities.
This is just for us.
I started hosting these monthly get-togethers about a year ago. I put together a rough schedule of ideas, so dragged it out a week or so ago.
Reluctantly, I have to admit. I have been SO busy.
'Normal' school is hectic enough. Then there are reports..(only nine thousand words this time) and a professional development course I am in the middle of. Not even to think about Christmas...(which is all I AM doing - thinking about it. Guiltily.)
Anyway, guess what the next topic was?
REST!!
Ha ha.
So I scurried around doing a weekly clean up in an hour. This poor house rarely gets more than a spit and a polish: a Swedish proverb says 'better a little dirt in the corners than a clean Hell' and I take that maxim to heart.
I scurried round setting the table, baking rolls, preparing a fruit platter...
I scurried.
Rest?
I don't think so.
And you know what? It WAS. I feel as refreshed as if I'd had a weekend away - and it's still Sunday morning!
Wow!
PS: What I shared is over at Words From God for Today. Interestingly, the day I was putting the finishing touches, praying that it was what God wanted from me, a friend sent me this by email:
The Lord is My Pace Setter: an adaptation of the 23rd Psalm
"The Lord is my pace setter...I shall not rush
He makes me stop for quiet intervals
He provides me with images of stillness which restore my serenity
He leads me in the way of efficiency through calmness of mind and his guidance is peace
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day, I will not fret,for his presence is here
His timelessness, his all importance will keep me in balance
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of my activity by anointing my mind with his oils of tranquility
My cup of joyous energy overflows
Truly harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruits of my hours for I shall walk in the Pace of my Lord and dwell in his house for ever."
It's a breather for those of us who work full-time Monday to Friday. And I know that EVERYONE is busy... but homemakers have other opportunities.
This is just for us.
I started hosting these monthly get-togethers about a year ago. I put together a rough schedule of ideas, so dragged it out a week or so ago.
Reluctantly, I have to admit. I have been SO busy.
'Normal' school is hectic enough. Then there are reports..(only nine thousand words this time) and a professional development course I am in the middle of. Not even to think about Christmas...(which is all I AM doing - thinking about it. Guiltily.)
Anyway, guess what the next topic was?
REST!!
Ha ha.
So I scurried around doing a weekly clean up in an hour. This poor house rarely gets more than a spit and a polish: a Swedish proverb says 'better a little dirt in the corners than a clean Hell' and I take that maxim to heart.
I scurried round setting the table, baking rolls, preparing a fruit platter...
I scurried.
Rest?
I don't think so.
And you know what? It WAS. I feel as refreshed as if I'd had a weekend away - and it's still Sunday morning!
Wow!
PS: What I shared is over at Words From God for Today. Interestingly, the day I was putting the finishing touches, praying that it was what God wanted from me, a friend sent me this by email:
The Lord is My Pace Setter: an adaptation of the 23rd Psalm
"The Lord is my pace setter...I shall not rush
He makes me stop for quiet intervals
He provides me with images of stillness which restore my serenity
He leads me in the way of efficiency through calmness of mind and his guidance is peace
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day, I will not fret,for his presence is here
His timelessness, his all importance will keep me in balance
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of my activity by anointing my mind with his oils of tranquility
My cup of joyous energy overflows
Truly harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruits of my hours for I shall walk in the Pace of my Lord and dwell in his house for ever."
Wednesday 25 November 2009
Light
I've just posted over at Words from God. Some badly written ramblings.
I just wanted to say a thank you here.
This morning, I took the dog out just after 6 for the first time in a while. (Osteo arthritis in the knee has made walking difficult - I'm out to regain fitness now.) Walking along our lane in the dark, listening to the surf breaking on the rocks, I was filled with thankfulness for where I live.
And determined to enjoy it NOW.
The moment is all I have. Until the next one.
I just wanted to say a thank you here.
This morning, I took the dog out just after 6 for the first time in a while. (Osteo arthritis in the knee has made walking difficult - I'm out to regain fitness now.) Walking along our lane in the dark, listening to the surf breaking on the rocks, I was filled with thankfulness for where I live.
And determined to enjoy it NOW.
The moment is all I have. Until the next one.
Sunday 15 November 2009
Time
SOMEONE has stolen my most valuable possession from me.
Well, perhaps not the MOST valuable - thought I'm not sure. I feel a philosophical mood STEALING over me so I will resist the thief with all my might. Thieves have already stolen too much of my TIME this week.
And the worst of it is - I can't remember where I stored it or what I did with it.
One or two events stick in my memory.
I spent a happy day with my brother, his wife and two delightful tiny boys, and took my mother out for afternoon tea. I do remember all of that plesant catching up.
I came home early from school one day, with a 'putrid sore throat' as Jane Austen would have put it. An afternoon in bed gave me enough energy to return to my classroom the next morning.
I have spent much time in prayer for a friend who has just been diagnosed with a golf-ball sized tumour on one lung.
So the thieves didn't steal all of my time away, maybe - just my memory of it!
Well, perhaps not the MOST valuable - thought I'm not sure. I feel a philosophical mood STEALING over me so I will resist the thief with all my might. Thieves have already stolen too much of my TIME this week.
And the worst of it is - I can't remember where I stored it or what I did with it.
One or two events stick in my memory.
I spent a happy day with my brother, his wife and two delightful tiny boys, and took my mother out for afternoon tea. I do remember all of that plesant catching up.
I came home early from school one day, with a 'putrid sore throat' as Jane Austen would have put it. An afternoon in bed gave me enough energy to return to my classroom the next morning.
I have spent much time in prayer for a friend who has just been diagnosed with a golf-ball sized tumour on one lung.
So the thieves didn't steal all of my time away, maybe - just my memory of it!
Thursday 5 November 2009
Sorrow and laughter
Sorrow this week. A child here has been diagnosed with diabetes. I can't help the tears every time I think about it.
Yet there is joy - and tremendous pride. Seeing how he copes with this so bravely: administering his own blood tests, monitoring his symptoms, injecting himself with insulin... I am humbled.
I hope our next fund-raising event will be for the national diabetes charity. I so long to find a cure. Bring on the research!
Yet there is joy - and tremendous pride. Seeing how he copes with this so bravely: administering his own blood tests, monitoring his symptoms, injecting himself with insulin... I am humbled.
I hope our next fund-raising event will be for the national diabetes charity. I so long to find a cure. Bring on the research!
Sunday 1 November 2009
Mpira and his friend Lucy
A couple of years ago, an Australian friend used to housesit for us occasionally. She and the dog built up a rather devoted friendship...which they still keep up via facebook. Here'a a recent message...
Dear Lucy
Just a quick note to say that I miss you - nobody makes me do the washing up any more and the cuddles aren't QUITE as good as yours. However, I have managed to move my bedroom upstairs and even occasionally get ON THE BED - how cool is that?!
Not much happening on dogbook but I am still working on my fitness. I can now swim at least half a mile and have learnt how to climb over mooring ropes while swimming without drowning myself. I quite enjoy jumping off rocks as well, though I have to say I'm not particularly graceful.
How are you doing? I thought you could write already, but your profile picture shows you having lessons? Could I learn as well?
Missing you lots and lots
your devoted friend
Mpira
Dear Lucy
Just a quick note to say that I miss you - nobody makes me do the washing up any more and the cuddles aren't QUITE as good as yours. However, I have managed to move my bedroom upstairs and even occasionally get ON THE BED - how cool is that?!
Not much happening on dogbook but I am still working on my fitness. I can now swim at least half a mile and have learnt how to climb over mooring ropes while swimming without drowning myself. I quite enjoy jumping off rocks as well, though I have to say I'm not particularly graceful.
How are you doing? I thought you could write already, but your profile picture shows you having lessons? Could I learn as well?
Missing you lots and lots
your devoted friend
Mpira
Wednesday 28 October 2009
Home
It's half term, and Cat is back home. A happy juxtaposition of 'time off'.
It's not time off, though. It's catch up time. Cat, overbusy with her 'job' as activing (sic) president of the Christian Union at uni, now has to get her dissertation finished.
Mostly finished.
Well, partly finished.
Even halfway would be good.
Me? I'm enjoying having a daughter here who says, "Can I make pudding?" and then proceeds to whip up something delicious from fridge and store cupboard in minutes, with a minimum of fuss and mess.
A daughter who shows me some of the exercises which are part of her fitness regime.
(I managed a couple of them for a fraction of the time, and felt very pleased with myself.)
A daughter who has spent precious time writing thank you cards to the CU committee members who made the house party last weekend such a success. (Who thanks her, I wonder?)
A daughter who lights fires in the hearth and shares wine with me.
Precious.
The label function for this post won't let me put 'Cat'. It insists on 'Cat and Jonny'. Together. Jonny is back at uni, catching up on hours and hours of reading. He's had a good fortnight visiting his oldest friend who was passing through Amsterdam (from Tanzania, where his parents live, to the US, where he - presently - lives), then at the Hillsong conference in London, then at the University Surfing Champtionships in Newquay.
Sadly, now, no time to come home for half term.
It's not time off, though. It's catch up time. Cat, overbusy with her 'job' as activing (sic) president of the Christian Union at uni, now has to get her dissertation finished.
Mostly finished.
Well, partly finished.
Even halfway would be good.
Me? I'm enjoying having a daughter here who says, "Can I make pudding?" and then proceeds to whip up something delicious from fridge and store cupboard in minutes, with a minimum of fuss and mess.
A daughter who shows me some of the exercises which are part of her fitness regime.
(I managed a couple of them for a fraction of the time, and felt very pleased with myself.)
A daughter who has spent precious time writing thank you cards to the CU committee members who made the house party last weekend such a success. (Who thanks her, I wonder?)
A daughter who lights fires in the hearth and shares wine with me.
Precious.
The label function for this post won't let me put 'Cat'. It insists on 'Cat and Jonny'. Together. Jonny is back at uni, catching up on hours and hours of reading. He's had a good fortnight visiting his oldest friend who was passing through Amsterdam (from Tanzania, where his parents live, to the US, where he - presently - lives), then at the Hillsong conference in London, then at the University Surfing Champtionships in Newquay.
Sadly, now, no time to come home for half term.
Monday 26 October 2009
Resurrection!
The Mondeo - having claimed that its engine had seized (it certainly wouldn't turn over after its dramatic refusal to proceed any further) - is now running again!
Not well, however. It has had more spare parts replaced, is doing better, but not 100% healthy. The phrase 'throwing good money after bad' keeps occurring to me...
Hopefully worth it in the end! Watch this space...
Not well, however. It has had more spare parts replaced, is doing better, but not 100% healthy. The phrase 'throwing good money after bad' keeps occurring to me...
Hopefully worth it in the end! Watch this space...
Saturday 24 October 2009
My pupils
Half term - at last. Yet in many ways it has been relatively stress-free and easy. Yes, my class are quite high maintenance - but they are so much fun.
There's Matthew, who brings me fishing photos and stories. Shows me fishing magazines. Advises me on bait and fishing tackle. Alert, focused. He has the most wonderful smile.
Joel, whose gorgeous mum is running the Cycling Proficiency club - superbly. He is tiny, clever, capable, self-contained.
Harry: a bright-eyed bundle of mischief. Always up for a joke.
Alexander:quiet, highly intelligent with a command of language a boy several years older would be proud to have.
Robert, one of the kindest and most sympathetic - in every way - boys I have met for a long time. His unfailing gentleness and concern for others is quite amazing.
Oliver: holds a conversation like an adult.
Rory: bright, very artistic and dedicated. His History work this week - three colourful pages, extra on top of the set assignment - was the talk of the school.
Don: highly responsible, a diligent student,reliable and charming - a winning combination.
Reuben, the Henrys (three of them), Brent - whose mum is the most wonderful and supportive parent I have ever known, Nairn... I love them all!
There's Matthew, who brings me fishing photos and stories. Shows me fishing magazines. Advises me on bait and fishing tackle. Alert, focused. He has the most wonderful smile.
Joel, whose gorgeous mum is running the Cycling Proficiency club - superbly. He is tiny, clever, capable, self-contained.
Harry: a bright-eyed bundle of mischief. Always up for a joke.
Alexander:quiet, highly intelligent with a command of language a boy several years older would be proud to have.
Robert, one of the kindest and most sympathetic - in every way - boys I have met for a long time. His unfailing gentleness and concern for others is quite amazing.
Oliver: holds a conversation like an adult.
Rory: bright, very artistic and dedicated. His History work this week - three colourful pages, extra on top of the set assignment - was the talk of the school.
Don: highly responsible, a diligent student,reliable and charming - a winning combination.
Reuben, the Henrys (three of them), Brent - whose mum is the most wonderful and supportive parent I have ever known, Nairn... I love them all!
Friday 16 October 2009
Death of a Car
It had to happen. Our Mondeo died yesterday. Left living with a rattle, a bang and a huge cloud of smoke. No youngster when it arrived in our family, it had served us faithfully for nearly 10 years.
God is faithful too.
The Mondeo broke down just a mile or so from home, right near a friend's house. As Richard was pushing it across a busy junction, two men - her lodgers - who happened to be standing outside saw and rushed across to help.
When we returned to collect it late at night when the roads were quiet, there happened to be two men standing nearby. When they saw our tow rope snap on first pull (we have had it years, and I suspect it might have come from the Pound Shop!), one fetched a towing strap for us.
God is faithful. He sends His angels to help when we need them.
We towed it home safely. Now we are just waiting for the undertakers to come.
Faithfully carrying the kayak
God is faithful too.
The Mondeo broke down just a mile or so from home, right near a friend's house. As Richard was pushing it across a busy junction, two men - her lodgers - who happened to be standing outside saw and rushed across to help.
When we returned to collect it late at night when the roads were quiet, there happened to be two men standing nearby. When they saw our tow rope snap on first pull (we have had it years, and I suspect it might have come from the Pound Shop!), one fetched a towing strap for us.
God is faithful. He sends His angels to help when we need them.
We towed it home safely. Now we are just waiting for the undertakers to come.
Faithfully carrying the kayak
Wednesday 14 October 2009
Questions for teachers
I'm going to be asked some questions by members of the youth group at church on Sunday. Thought I'd better prepare some answers:
Do you have a teacher nickname?
Not as far as I know... though I'm a primary teacher. I think that's more a secondary thing. However, maybe I should do some research...!
What’s the meanest things that has happened to you by a pupil?
A child let my bicycle tyres down when I was in my first teaching post. It wasn't personal - just mischievous. I had a long walk home, though. Oh, in Kenya I was Deputy Head of a local school, in charge of collecting school fees, and received an 'anonymous' death threat once when I refused a student admission for frequent non-payment.
The issue of promoting Christianity in schools is a hot potato. What is your take on it?
Christianity is part of our British culture and yet it is often not taught properly. Other religions are. Not only that, but other religions are given glamour and mystery, whereas 'Churchianity' more than 'Christianity' is taught. That's ridiculous.
Do things go on in the staff room that would be disciplined if a schoolkid did it anywhere else in the school?
Oh yes. Cake and chocolate eating, for a start. The children are not allowed to bring sweets in to school. Then there was the time anyone who answered the phone had to include a particular word in the conversation. My word was 'windmill'. The staffroom was in uproar - people were crying with laughter and there was ABSOLUTELY NO DISCIPLINE WHATSOEVER. You can't have children behaving like that!
What is your favourite worship song and why?
Well, anything by Brian Doerksen, but probably my favourite is 'Today'. 'Today, I choose, to follow You. Today, I choose to give my life to you...' It's a wonderful reminder that following Jesus is a daily choice. I want to follow in the footsteps of Joshua, who is credited with those words.
Are there any specific prayer requests for your school or the teaching profession?
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among the teaching profession. Teachers are more influential than they imagine, but they need boldness and to be made spiritually aware of the wonderful opportunities which God gives them.
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among youngsters, so much so that they will voluntarily ask Christian staff for help in their search.
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among parents.
Do you have a teacher nickname?
Not as far as I know... though I'm a primary teacher. I think that's more a secondary thing. However, maybe I should do some research...!
What’s the meanest things that has happened to you by a pupil?
A child let my bicycle tyres down when I was in my first teaching post. It wasn't personal - just mischievous. I had a long walk home, though. Oh, in Kenya I was Deputy Head of a local school, in charge of collecting school fees, and received an 'anonymous' death threat once when I refused a student admission for frequent non-payment.
The issue of promoting Christianity in schools is a hot potato. What is your take on it?
Christianity is part of our British culture and yet it is often not taught properly. Other religions are. Not only that, but other religions are given glamour and mystery, whereas 'Churchianity' more than 'Christianity' is taught. That's ridiculous.
Do things go on in the staff room that would be disciplined if a schoolkid did it anywhere else in the school?
Oh yes. Cake and chocolate eating, for a start. The children are not allowed to bring sweets in to school. Then there was the time anyone who answered the phone had to include a particular word in the conversation. My word was 'windmill'. The staffroom was in uproar - people were crying with laughter and there was ABSOLUTELY NO DISCIPLINE WHATSOEVER. You can't have children behaving like that!
What is your favourite worship song and why?
Well, anything by Brian Doerksen, but probably my favourite is 'Today'. 'Today, I choose, to follow You. Today, I choose to give my life to you...' It's a wonderful reminder that following Jesus is a daily choice. I want to follow in the footsteps of Joshua, who is credited with those words.
Are there any specific prayer requests for your school or the teaching profession?
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among the teaching profession. Teachers are more influential than they imagine, but they need boldness and to be made spiritually aware of the wonderful opportunities which God gives them.
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among youngsters, so much so that they will voluntarily ask Christian staff for help in their search.
Pray for there to be a hunger for God among parents.
Fishing
A beautiful evening in the kayak yesterday. There was almost no wind and the sea was glassy calm in places. There was some swell, and a little rip along the coast, so as we came in we almost seemed to surf along on top of the waves.
We also caught a garfish. Twice. The same one. Apparently they do that - bizarre, stupid or what? Fortunately, he jumped off the hook without too much trouble.
Apart from Mr G, we caught lots and lots of seaweed, despite steering a zigzag course to avoid it.
Fun.
We also caught a garfish. Twice. The same one. Apparently they do that - bizarre, stupid or what? Fortunately, he jumped off the hook without too much trouble.
Apart from Mr G, we caught lots and lots of seaweed, despite steering a zigzag course to avoid it.
Fun.
Monday 12 October 2009
Norman and I
Although we live together, Norman and I have a somewhat strained relationship. The trouble is, we don't really appreciate each other. Norman doesn't appreciate the care I give him - all the cleaning and tidying I do, for a start, not to mention feeding him whenever he is hungry. I've tried to be a good friend to him - but he just isn't interested. He's completely unresponsive when I try to talk to him, just doing his own thing as always. He is SO grumpy.
I have to say, I don't appreciate him either. Yes, I know he helps me with the shopping - but it's only because it's too much for me to carry on my own. He's useful for helping me take the kayak down to the beach, or comes along when I want to go surfing - not that he ever joins me. He seems to have an aversion for water and doesn't even like to go on the beach. Where's the company in that? It's enough to make me want to go on my own.
Then he always looks so SCRUFFY - he could do with a good spit and polish at least. I don't think he's actually had a bath for a couple of years now - it doesn't bear thinking of. As for the smell...old socks and bad BO. It's not so bad when we're out, although he's not exactly the sort of friend you'd want to be seen with. But otherwise - who'd want to sit down with him for a quiet cup of tea? Not me.
I mean, we were out together the other day, but he wouldn't even go at the pace I wanted. He dragged his heels, going as slowly as he could get away with, grumbling constantly. AND coughing and spluttering, pretending he was having trouble breathing. Of course, I wasn't having any of that and just carried on as normal, pulling him along without taking any notice. You just have to ignore that sort of behaviour - they all come round to your way of thinking in the end.
That's exactly what happened. After a while, Norman decided he would have some fun and just took off at a terrific pace. He didn't say anything and wouldn't admit to enjoying our little outing, but I can read him like a book. It's as if he's saying, "Oh no, I won't, oh no I WON'T... oh, all right then!". I wasn't prepared for that and had to hang on, clinging on to him as we careered round bends and corners without a thought for who might be coming the other way. Fortunately, the way was clear and he slowed down to a more reasonable pace after a few minutes. I do think he should show me a little more consideration. There was an amazing amount of 'get up and go' in him - he's not young any more, after all. Who would guess he was 25 years old?
Young, do I hear you say? Oh, for a human, that's young. But for a Renault 5 - geriatric isn't the word for it! For a car,25 years is well past 'sell-by' date, so actually, he's doing extremely well!
Hmmm...maybe I DO appreciate him after all!
I have to say, I don't appreciate him either. Yes, I know he helps me with the shopping - but it's only because it's too much for me to carry on my own. He's useful for helping me take the kayak down to the beach, or comes along when I want to go surfing - not that he ever joins me. He seems to have an aversion for water and doesn't even like to go on the beach. Where's the company in that? It's enough to make me want to go on my own.
Then he always looks so SCRUFFY - he could do with a good spit and polish at least. I don't think he's actually had a bath for a couple of years now - it doesn't bear thinking of. As for the smell...old socks and bad BO. It's not so bad when we're out, although he's not exactly the sort of friend you'd want to be seen with. But otherwise - who'd want to sit down with him for a quiet cup of tea? Not me.
I mean, we were out together the other day, but he wouldn't even go at the pace I wanted. He dragged his heels, going as slowly as he could get away with, grumbling constantly. AND coughing and spluttering, pretending he was having trouble breathing. Of course, I wasn't having any of that and just carried on as normal, pulling him along without taking any notice. You just have to ignore that sort of behaviour - they all come round to your way of thinking in the end.
That's exactly what happened. After a while, Norman decided he would have some fun and just took off at a terrific pace. He didn't say anything and wouldn't admit to enjoying our little outing, but I can read him like a book. It's as if he's saying, "Oh no, I won't, oh no I WON'T... oh, all right then!". I wasn't prepared for that and had to hang on, clinging on to him as we careered round bends and corners without a thought for who might be coming the other way. Fortunately, the way was clear and he slowed down to a more reasonable pace after a few minutes. I do think he should show me a little more consideration. There was an amazing amount of 'get up and go' in him - he's not young any more, after all. Who would guess he was 25 years old?
Young, do I hear you say? Oh, for a human, that's young. But for a Renault 5 - geriatric isn't the word for it! For a car,25 years is well past 'sell-by' date, so actually, he's doing extremely well!
Hmmm...maybe I DO appreciate him after all!
Sunday 11 October 2009
Mushrooms!
I found mushrooms yesterday - in the field next door. Little white caps glowing in the lush grass. I think they are field mushrooms (ha ha). A friend has a wonderful recipe where the insides are stuffed with herbs and beaten egg, with cherry tomatoes on top, which I'm going to try - sounds wonderful. Maybe with some grated cheese as well... pizzaroom! Or perhaps mushpizza...
Monday 5 October 2009
Of busyness, tiredness and refreshment.
Catharine has been overbusy lately.
She’s Vice-President of the university Christian Union this year, captain of the women’s ultimate Frisbee team and leads a small group at church.
She delegates, but has still found herself over-burdened and is now Acting – or activing, as she puts it – President.
There doesn’t seem to be much time available for her dissertation at the moment.
Hmmm.
Wonder where she gets this busyness from?
I’m busy too. Some days, I just seem to run from one thing to another.
Some evenings, I’m so tired I start to fall asleep in my chair, especially if I’m in a meeting.
Embarrassing.
If I don’t fall asleep, I become so restless that I can’t sit still – have a coiled spring inside me, ready to break loose.
A jump up and walk around usually cures that, but that’s not always possible.
So, when I committed to two church evenings at the weekend, with Open Day at school inbetween, I really wondered how I was ever going to wind down enough for some sort of rest.
But it was better than that.
True, the first evening was full of listening, as I heard stories and received training for Healing on the Streets.
The second evening was awesome.
Simple prayers. Simple healing.
My leg – slightly shorter than its mate – lengthened in response to prayer.
I feel stronger, walk more easily.
Yet even more than that, my soul was renewed and my spirit lightened.
Thank you, Jesus.
And thank you for a daughter and son who, in their different ways, love to serve others.
She’s Vice-President of the university Christian Union this year, captain of the women’s ultimate Frisbee team and leads a small group at church.
She delegates, but has still found herself over-burdened and is now Acting – or activing, as she puts it – President.
There doesn’t seem to be much time available for her dissertation at the moment.
Hmmm.
Wonder where she gets this busyness from?
I’m busy too. Some days, I just seem to run from one thing to another.
Some evenings, I’m so tired I start to fall asleep in my chair, especially if I’m in a meeting.
Embarrassing.
If I don’t fall asleep, I become so restless that I can’t sit still – have a coiled spring inside me, ready to break loose.
A jump up and walk around usually cures that, but that’s not always possible.
So, when I committed to two church evenings at the weekend, with Open Day at school inbetween, I really wondered how I was ever going to wind down enough for some sort of rest.
But it was better than that.
True, the first evening was full of listening, as I heard stories and received training for Healing on the Streets.
The second evening was awesome.
Simple prayers. Simple healing.
My leg – slightly shorter than its mate – lengthened in response to prayer.
I feel stronger, walk more easily.
Yet even more than that, my soul was renewed and my spirit lightened.
Thank you, Jesus.
And thank you for a daughter and son who, in their different ways, love to serve others.
Monday 28 September 2009
Fishing
The weather all weekend was fantastic - and I do mean fantastic, as in unbelievable. The end of September, yet it was warm, sunny, the sea was calm and there was almost no wind. People sat on the beach, swam in the sea.
We took the kayak out.
As always, we journey in hope with a fishing rod and a line. In truth, I'd almost rather not go with it: we have to be wary of shallow water as the hook catches on the rocks. There is a myriad of rocky islets along our coast, varying with the state of the tide.
Occasionally, the rod bends and we get excited. Usually the hook has deftly caught some attractive seaweed.
Yesterday, we failed to catch significant chunks of weed. Instead, we caught fish. 3 times in an hour and a half: that's pretty good for a fisherman and his wife. 3 pollock, the largest weighing almost two pounds, landed in our little kayak. 2 came home with us and jumped straight into the frying pan.
Generous as ever, we shared with Mpira. Initially suspicious, he carefully lifted up one of the discarded heads and carried it away to eat at his leisure. He is not a dog who buries bones, preferring instead to choose his dining area. It did not take long to convert him to the taste of fish.
He sits and gazes with longing at the kayak, now hanging in the garage, waiting for the next fishing trip.
It might be a long time before we catch any more.
We took the kayak out.
As always, we journey in hope with a fishing rod and a line. In truth, I'd almost rather not go with it: we have to be wary of shallow water as the hook catches on the rocks. There is a myriad of rocky islets along our coast, varying with the state of the tide.
Occasionally, the rod bends and we get excited. Usually the hook has deftly caught some attractive seaweed.
Yesterday, we failed to catch significant chunks of weed. Instead, we caught fish. 3 times in an hour and a half: that's pretty good for a fisherman and his wife. 3 pollock, the largest weighing almost two pounds, landed in our little kayak. 2 came home with us and jumped straight into the frying pan.
Generous as ever, we shared with Mpira. Initially suspicious, he carefully lifted up one of the discarded heads and carried it away to eat at his leisure. He is not a dog who buries bones, preferring instead to choose his dining area. It did not take long to convert him to the taste of fish.
He sits and gazes with longing at the kayak, now hanging in the garage, waiting for the next fishing trip.
It might be a long time before we catch any more.
Thursday 24 September 2009
Living a different life
Life is different now that Jonny and Cat have gone back to uni.
The house is quiet, texts and emails occasional as we all get busy.
Too busy, sometimes, to really miss each other with sharp pangs.
More like a dull ache.
Loss of their presence sits heavy, peering over my shoulder.
I live with this as my life is full of other people's lives.
Children I teach; their parents; my colleagues; my friends; my church family.
I live with this as my life is full of tasks.
Lessons to prepare, books to mark, courses to study, assignments to complete.
Housework and cooking work, walking the dog work, cycling to work. Shopping work.
I live with this presence, relieving the heaviness with the lightness of texts, emails and phone conversations.
The sky lightens.
The house is quiet, texts and emails occasional as we all get busy.
Too busy, sometimes, to really miss each other with sharp pangs.
More like a dull ache.
Loss of their presence sits heavy, peering over my shoulder.
I live with this as my life is full of other people's lives.
Children I teach; their parents; my colleagues; my friends; my church family.
I live with this as my life is full of tasks.
Lessons to prepare, books to mark, courses to study, assignments to complete.
Housework and cooking work, walking the dog work, cycling to work. Shopping work.
I live with this presence, relieving the heaviness with the lightness of texts, emails and phone conversations.
The sky lightens.
Tuesday 15 September 2009
A deep breath
I've taken a deep breath today.
The beginning of the school year is always tremendously hectic, and I feel as if I'm running on a treadmill: and for someone who hates running/can't run anyway, that is a truly frightening feeling!
Now I've committed to undertaking a professional development course.
It's going to be a lot of work.
I feel tired already.
Will I make it without running out of steam?
The beginning of the school year is always tremendously hectic, and I feel as if I'm running on a treadmill: and for someone who hates running/can't run anyway, that is a truly frightening feeling!
Now I've committed to undertaking a professional development course.
It's going to be a lot of work.
I feel tired already.
Will I make it without running out of steam?
Autumn
Blissful days of endless summer.
Every sunrise is a benison, as warmth spreads across still fields, wisp clad.
A calm sea is a surprise.
Then comes a rising wind
bringing a wash of rain in hurrying footsteps.
Autumn stomps in, bad-tempered.
Every sunrise is a benison, as warmth spreads across still fields, wisp clad.
A calm sea is a surprise.
Then comes a rising wind
bringing a wash of rain in hurrying footsteps.
Autumn stomps in, bad-tempered.
Friday 11 September 2009
End of the summer
I've written a post with this title before. Can't remember when, why or where.
After the amazingly good weather at the weekend and earlier in the week, we are now into the beginning of autumn. Wind, cooler temperatures, more cloud.
The weather cements a reality into me.
I feel I have to accept that I HAVE started back at school, that I DO have to get on with teaching, and that Jonny and Cat ARE returning to university tomorrow. The weather tells me that these things are true and I cannot deny them any longer.
The weather brings this sadness.
After the amazingly good weather at the weekend and earlier in the week, we are now into the beginning of autumn. Wind, cooler temperatures, more cloud.
The weather cements a reality into me.
I feel I have to accept that I HAVE started back at school, that I DO have to get on with teaching, and that Jonny and Cat ARE returning to university tomorrow. The weather tells me that these things are true and I cannot deny them any longer.
The weather brings this sadness.
Saturday 5 September 2009
25 years
25 years ago, Richard and I were married - on my birthday.
I can't believe we've got this far together.
Not that splitting up was ever an option - far from it. That day was the beginning of the best time of my life - and it's still fun. No, it's just that 25 years - a silver wedding anniversary - is what happens to OLD people.
So how come we've just celebrated that?!
Ian and Jane Langlois celebrating with us - two weeks later. Fish and chips and pink champagne, with the chimenea which Jonny and Cat gave us.
Wednesday 2 September 2009
Why I love teaching
This is why I love teaching.
First thing this morning, first day of term, a parent arrived half an hour early. Saw where her son had been placed in class, and who he was sitting next to, and informed me that the position would not work.
I thought I'd give it a go and see what happened.
By the end of the day he had informed me that he was very happy to be sitting next to his companion. Seemed okay with being right near me, too.
Satisfying, to know that my professional judgement was, after all, okay.
That's not all.
The question was: What are you most proud of?
The answer: Getting to Year 5.
School obviously seems like a life sentence to some.
First thing this morning, first day of term, a parent arrived half an hour early. Saw where her son had been placed in class, and who he was sitting next to, and informed me that the position would not work.
I thought I'd give it a go and see what happened.
By the end of the day he had informed me that he was very happy to be sitting next to his companion. Seemed okay with being right near me, too.
Satisfying, to know that my professional judgement was, after all, okay.
That's not all.
The question was: What are you most proud of?
The answer: Getting to Year 5.
School obviously seems like a life sentence to some.
Weather report
The rain started at lunchtime.
By mid afternoon it was pouring down.
Now, this evening, it has been lashing our little island for hours. The roads are flooded, the wind unabated.
Unbelievable that two days ago we were sweltering in near-tropical conditions.
By mid afternoon it was pouring down.
Now, this evening, it has been lashing our little island for hours. The roads are flooded, the wind unabated.
Unbelievable that two days ago we were sweltering in near-tropical conditions.
Tuesday 1 September 2009
End of the summer
The 'first' day of school today. Staff meetings, preparing the classrooms, then INSET on Child Protection - most of which was irrelevant or over-lengthy.
Yet yesterday felt like high summer. The sky blazed blue hot all day. Most of Guernsey seemed to be on the beach or in the water - me included. It was fabulous.
Even in the evening, folk were still swimming in a glassy sea.
Even this morning, clouds scudded and wheeled across the sky, freshly rain washed in warm air. It felt like an early morning in Mombasa.
Now, this evening, the weather has turned. It is very windy, cool, with the threatening of rain for tomorrow.
Back to school indeed.
Yet yesterday felt like high summer. The sky blazed blue hot all day. Most of Guernsey seemed to be on the beach or in the water - me included. It was fabulous.
Even in the evening, folk were still swimming in a glassy sea.
Even this morning, clouds scudded and wheeled across the sky, freshly rain washed in warm air. It felt like an early morning in Mombasa.
Now, this evening, the weather has turned. It is very windy, cool, with the threatening of rain for tomorrow.
Back to school indeed.
Wednesday 26 August 2009
Old friends
More 'old friends' have come to visit. I suppose, as the years go on, that many of my friends are 'old', and there must be a better word for this warm feeling of familiarity and 'being known'.
How we all long to be known so well that there are no secrets.
Friends: like...
slipping on a pair of super comfortable shoes
listening to a favourite song
the first sip of a cappuchino
cuddling into a cosy armchair
sitting by a fire on a cold evening
Kim and Dave, you seem to get younger every time we meet. Welcome!
How we all long to be known so well that there are no secrets.
Friends: like...
slipping on a pair of super comfortable shoes
listening to a favourite song
the first sip of a cappuchino
cuddling into a cosy armchair
sitting by a fire on a cold evening
Kim and Dave, you seem to get younger every time we meet. Welcome!
Sunday 23 August 2009
Adventures in encouragement
I’ve never really thought much about ‘prophecy’ or ‘words of knowledge’ or anything like that. It’s not tangible enough for me – not certain.
Encouragement, on the other hand – that’s easy.
Encouragement is a quiet chat; sending a card; inviting someone for a cup of coffee.
Encouragement is a thoughtful gift: a book, a bunch of flowers, a cake.
Encouragement is good words.
Good words are not just words I think are good. The ‘nice’ comments. Good words are words which speak with meaning.
I’m learning to trust those words of meaning. I’m learning to speak those words, even if – sometimes, especially if – they make no sense at all. To me, anyway…
A cup and saucer; a golden arrow; the gangplank of a cruise ship; a chicken shed destroyed by foxes. Such are the peculiar images that come to mind when I pray.
(These are not just random thoughts, but persistent ideas which crop up when I am praying, or praising with music, or reading the Words. Thoughts which God brings to my attention, almost as if he is saying: What about this, then?)
All bizarre.
All made sense - to the hearer. Those who heard were encouraged that God has His finger on their lives. He knows every detail.
I’m also learning that there are no blindingly obvious opportunities to share these little thoughts. I’m learning that I never know for certain when I’m supposed to share ‘my’ random thoughts. I’m learning that Tentative, Hesitant and Unsure are my companions in this game.
When these are with me, then, even though I am uncertain and unsure, the words are usually meant. And right. I know that I offer the words into potential void, and I pray that if they are irrelevant or unhelpful in any way, that they will drop away and be forgotten.
Bizarre.
PS I'm learning, also, not to leave ANYTHING out just because it sounds silly. Twice recently I've done that, only to realise that I needed to give EVERYTHING. not to edit. I'm just a messenger, not The Author and Editor.
Encouragement, on the other hand – that’s easy.
Encouragement is a quiet chat; sending a card; inviting someone for a cup of coffee.
Encouragement is a thoughtful gift: a book, a bunch of flowers, a cake.
Encouragement is good words.
Good words are not just words I think are good. The ‘nice’ comments. Good words are words which speak with meaning.
I’m learning to trust those words of meaning. I’m learning to speak those words, even if – sometimes, especially if – they make no sense at all. To me, anyway…
A cup and saucer; a golden arrow; the gangplank of a cruise ship; a chicken shed destroyed by foxes. Such are the peculiar images that come to mind when I pray.
(These are not just random thoughts, but persistent ideas which crop up when I am praying, or praising with music, or reading the Words. Thoughts which God brings to my attention, almost as if he is saying: What about this, then?)
All bizarre.
All made sense - to the hearer. Those who heard were encouraged that God has His finger on their lives. He knows every detail.
I’m also learning that there are no blindingly obvious opportunities to share these little thoughts. I’m learning that I never know for certain when I’m supposed to share ‘my’ random thoughts. I’m learning that Tentative, Hesitant and Unsure are my companions in this game.
When these are with me, then, even though I am uncertain and unsure, the words are usually meant. And right. I know that I offer the words into potential void, and I pray that if they are irrelevant or unhelpful in any way, that they will drop away and be forgotten.
Bizarre.
PS I'm learning, also, not to leave ANYTHING out just because it sounds silly. Twice recently I've done that, only to realise that I needed to give EVERYTHING. not to edit. I'm just a messenger, not The Author and Editor.
Saturday 22 August 2009
Nostalgia
I couldn't believe my eyes this morning. Headed for the beach on my bicycle, I saw a cyclist in front of me.
A Breton. Unmistakeably so - tanned, weatherbeaten skin. Deep-set eyes under bristling eyebrows. He lacked only the cap, the blue and white striped jumper and the Gauloise between gnarled fingers.
It was only half an hour after the boat from Saint-Malo had docked at St Peter Port.
How did I know he was a Breton, apart from that? Dangling from his handlebars was a real, authentic, string of onions. Just like the ones my mother used to buy at the door from visiting French onion sellers.
A Breton. Unmistakeably so - tanned, weatherbeaten skin. Deep-set eyes under bristling eyebrows. He lacked only the cap, the blue and white striped jumper and the Gauloise between gnarled fingers.
It was only half an hour after the boat from Saint-Malo had docked at St Peter Port.
How did I know he was a Breton, apart from that? Dangling from his handlebars was a real, authentic, string of onions. Just like the ones my mother used to buy at the door from visiting French onion sellers.
Thursday 20 August 2009
The Boy and His Toe
The boy is back from Soul Survivor - helping lead a group of nearly 20 teenage kids to this wonderful Christian event.
We didn't hear from him all week. It's that kind of event - so much to do and take part in that there's no time for texting. Plus, that his phone ran out of battery.
There was still enough in it for one cryptic message, sent at midnight the first night: Cut my toe. Got 3 stitches in it though. Love you!
This mama didn't exactly go into overdrive, but the possibility of the wound becoming infected was uppermost in my mind. So when he returned a week later, it was no surprise to find that the wound HAD become infected. (No surprise if you've seen the state of the showers and the toilets at the campground where they were. Imagine a teenager's bedroom nightmare and multiply by 10,000.)
Trip to the doctor. Antibiotics and hot compresses. Inspection on demand several times a day. (Work out who the demand was from.) Comfort,encouragement, nursing, nurturing, reassurance,... ad hoc,ad lib, added to and multiplied...
I thought of putting a photo up here but, for the sake of everyone's sensibilities - not least the patient's - I won't.
PS Why is a patient called a patient, anyway? Surely this is paradoxical?
We didn't hear from him all week. It's that kind of event - so much to do and take part in that there's no time for texting. Plus, that his phone ran out of battery.
There was still enough in it for one cryptic message, sent at midnight the first night: Cut my toe. Got 3 stitches in it though. Love you!
This mama didn't exactly go into overdrive, but the possibility of the wound becoming infected was uppermost in my mind. So when he returned a week later, it was no surprise to find that the wound HAD become infected. (No surprise if you've seen the state of the showers and the toilets at the campground where they were. Imagine a teenager's bedroom nightmare and multiply by 10,000.)
Trip to the doctor. Antibiotics and hot compresses. Inspection on demand several times a day. (Work out who the demand was from.) Comfort,encouragement, nursing, nurturing, reassurance,... ad hoc,ad lib, added to and multiplied...
I thought of putting a photo up here but, for the sake of everyone's sensibilities - not least the patient's - I won't.
PS Why is a patient called a patient, anyway? Surely this is paradoxical?
Tuesday 18 August 2009
'Sisters'
24 hours ago they were here. Leaving them at the airport felt very strange. Wrong, somehow.
Leaving my ‘sisters’.
These dear friends – a friendship which goes back nearly thirty years – came to visit. Our days were filled with laughter, reminisces, secrets told, more laughter…
Days of wonder, as we looked at the Little Chapel, so lovingly crafted out of shells and fragments of porcelain and pottery.
Days of exhaustion, walking the steepness of the cliffs. Marvelling at the birds soaring above us, the tiny flowers clinging to the spare soil beneath our feet.
Days of laughter, when we couldn’t stop smiling for the joy of being together – especially when we met up with Alan, also a friend from Kenya days. I’d kept it a surprise for them. Their shrieks of amazement and delight, when they met him on Herm as we stepped off the boat from Guernsey, brought smiles to the faces of strangers.
Days of enjoying the sun, the sand, the shells and the sea air.
Days of eating and drinking in celebration of a birthday, a reunion, thanksgiving for the years then and now.
Days of the comfort of being known so intimately that there seemed to be nothing we couldn’t talk about and share with each other. Days when we realized that there are very few others who we love so much that we feel as close as family.
We plan to meet up again soon. Because leaving felt so very, very strange.
Leaving my ‘sisters’.
Leaving my ‘sisters’.
These dear friends – a friendship which goes back nearly thirty years – came to visit. Our days were filled with laughter, reminisces, secrets told, more laughter…
Days of wonder, as we looked at the Little Chapel, so lovingly crafted out of shells and fragments of porcelain and pottery.
Days of exhaustion, walking the steepness of the cliffs. Marvelling at the birds soaring above us, the tiny flowers clinging to the spare soil beneath our feet.
Days of laughter, when we couldn’t stop smiling for the joy of being together – especially when we met up with Alan, also a friend from Kenya days. I’d kept it a surprise for them. Their shrieks of amazement and delight, when they met him on Herm as we stepped off the boat from Guernsey, brought smiles to the faces of strangers.
Days of enjoying the sun, the sand, the shells and the sea air.
Days of eating and drinking in celebration of a birthday, a reunion, thanksgiving for the years then and now.
Days of the comfort of being known so intimately that there seemed to be nothing we couldn’t talk about and share with each other. Days when we realized that there are very few others who we love so much that we feel as close as family.
We plan to meet up again soon. Because leaving felt so very, very strange.
Leaving my ‘sisters’.
Thursday 6 August 2009
Further reflections from New Wine
I usually go to New Wine, hopeful and expectant of a new touch from God.
My mind tells me that life is for living, that I cannot expect the miraculous every day.
My spirit longs for that to happen. I live in tension.
We talk a lot of ‘work/life balance’. As if life is somehow more meaningful, more spiritual than my work life.
But it’s more than that.
My balance, my tension, is not really between my work and the rest of my life.
It is between the humdrum and the ordinary.
It’s between living in this world, and the kingdom of God.
It is between who I am, and who I am meant to be.
It is between who I am, and who I am becoming.
My mind tells me that life is for living, that I cannot expect the miraculous every day.
My spirit longs for that to happen. I live in tension.
We talk a lot of ‘work/life balance’. As if life is somehow more meaningful, more spiritual than my work life.
But it’s more than that.
My balance, my tension, is not really between my work and the rest of my life.
It is between the humdrum and the ordinary.
It’s between living in this world, and the kingdom of God.
It is between who I am, and who I am meant to be.
It is between who I am, and who I am becoming.
Pictures with words
There are some things where only a photo will suffice. This is one of them, but, sadly, no photo. I will just have to try my best to snap this in words.
Setting: The back door of my house.
Scenario: Jonny has just returned from surfing. He has had a shower and is about to go out - he is late, in a hurry.
"Bye, Mum, see you later," he calls from the doorway.
He is wearing a towel, wrapped turban-wise, on his head.
The rest of his 6 foot frame is completely enveloped from the neck downwards in an enormous, virulently bright pink bath sheet.
I wonder how he will manage to drive his car.
Setting: The back door of my house.
Scenario: Jonny has just returned from surfing. He has had a shower and is about to go out - he is late, in a hurry.
"Bye, Mum, see you later," he calls from the doorway.
He is wearing a towel, wrapped turban-wise, on his head.
The rest of his 6 foot frame is completely enveloped from the neck downwards in an enormous, virulently bright pink bath sheet.
I wonder how he will manage to drive his car.
Monday 3 August 2009
Hunger: or, how to get two evening meals...
5.30pm Son arrives home from work. “I’m starving. I’m going to Ian and Jane’s (youth leader and his wife) for a planning meeting at 7."
I reply: “Supper will be ready soon.”
6.00pm Supper is ready, but Son announces he is going snorkeling. Back in half an hour. No big deal.
6.35pm Son returns home, showers and changes.
6.45pm Supper is served.
6.50pm, halfway through supper: Son announces that Jane is cooking a meal for them. No doubt he will eat it. I wonder why he didn’t tell me before. Must have been VERY hungry.
Very tempted to text Jane to tell her he doesn’t need feeding. I don’t. I am sure that he will eat whatever she serves him.
With customary relish and appreciation.
I reply: “Supper will be ready soon.”
6.00pm Supper is ready, but Son announces he is going snorkeling. Back in half an hour. No big deal.
6.35pm Son returns home, showers and changes.
6.45pm Supper is served.
6.50pm, halfway through supper: Son announces that Jane is cooking a meal for them. No doubt he will eat it. I wonder why he didn’t tell me before. Must have been VERY hungry.
Very tempted to text Jane to tell her he doesn’t need feeding. I don’t. I am sure that he will eat whatever she serves him.
With customary relish and appreciation.
Sunday 2 August 2009
Cat in South Africa
Catharine is in South Africa for two months on work experience. She met up with Aletta (used to teach in Guernsey, now living in Johannesburg) and Karyn (from Port Elizabeth, still teaching in Guernsey).
She is working with the “Land Degradation Assessment in Drylands” (LADA), a project begun in 2006 with a general aim of providing informed policy advice on land degradation. The six pilot countries of Argentina, China, Cuba, Senegal, South Africa and Tunisia are participating in the project along with their national institutions and the different actors involved in implementing this initiative include United Nations Environment Programme, (UNEP) Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO) as well as the University of East Anglia/Overseas Development Group. (UEA/ODG) The LADA project aim is to develop and implement tools, strategies, and methods which can be used to assess the extent and severity of land degradation as well as looking at the biophysical and socio-economic driving factors. She works with the Agricultural Research Council on local assessments which involve visiting 3 different villages in the Limpopo province and assisting experts in taking detailed water, soil, and vegetation samples as well as interviewing key informants, Agricultural Extension Officers, and local chiefs, conducting livelihood assessments and wealth rankings. The information will then be compiled and reports written up to assess the land degradation in that area and what the key drivers for this might be.
And she has also visited Kruger National Park in the course of her work, as well as meeting many new people, experiencing church in SA... can't be bad!
New Wine
Just back from a wet week at New Wine. It didn’t really rain all the time, but when I found out that the West Country had received 250% of the average for July, I wasn’t surprised.
However, the work with the children in ‘Pebbles’ (the name of the 3 and 4 year olds group) went very well. We were a team of nearly 100, working with over 300 children in a morning. Despite arriving in gumboots and waterproofs, the children’s enthusiasm for all the activities was not dampened. They played with toys, sang songs, listened to stories, watched cartoons and puppets, chatted to their leaders and learnt different ways of praying. I was, as I am every year, impressed.
I was impressed with how quickly they settled in. After the first day, the children came in as eagerly as if they had been coming every day for several months.
I was impressed with how well the children listened. At times, you could almost hear a pin drop in a marquee filled with more than 200 people.
I was impressed with how simply, yet confidently, they prayed. Watching a little girl put her hands on the shoulder of an adult as she prayed, or hearing a small boy say, after I had prayed for his sore leg: ‘It’s better now.’
I was impressed with how caring they are. One 4 year old asked me: ‘Is your arm all right now?’ He had remembered that we had prayed for my tendinitis a few days previously.
I was impressed when one mother told me how her 4 year old had woken at 1am, asking if he could pray for New Wine.
I was impressed when parents said, time and time again, how the sessions (one and a half hours a day for five days) had changed their children’s lives. ‘Pebbles’ is not a babysitting service. It is not even some kind of a mini nursery school. The sole aim is to help the children have an encounter with Jesus. When that happens, no one is ever the same again.
I was impressed with the parents. I teach, having a good mix of parents to deal with, ranging from the charming to the downright unpleasant and aggressive. Yet the parents of the children, despite arriving with dripping coats and hair, or having had to wait precious minutes before the doors opened, making them late for their next session, were invariably delightful. They had had a difficult week in the rain and the mud yet they were incredibly positive. They were calm, smiling, thankful and enthusiastic: thrilled with the sessions offered in Pebbles.
I know, given the same circumstances, that most people would not have responded like this.
I’ve always said that the Holy Spirit is tangibly present in the quiet, listening atmosphere surrounding these tiny tots it is my privilege to work with this week.
Now I have seen the same presence in their parents.
However, the work with the children in ‘Pebbles’ (the name of the 3 and 4 year olds group) went very well. We were a team of nearly 100, working with over 300 children in a morning. Despite arriving in gumboots and waterproofs, the children’s enthusiasm for all the activities was not dampened. They played with toys, sang songs, listened to stories, watched cartoons and puppets, chatted to their leaders and learnt different ways of praying. I was, as I am every year, impressed.
I was impressed with how quickly they settled in. After the first day, the children came in as eagerly as if they had been coming every day for several months.
I was impressed with how well the children listened. At times, you could almost hear a pin drop in a marquee filled with more than 200 people.
I was impressed with how simply, yet confidently, they prayed. Watching a little girl put her hands on the shoulder of an adult as she prayed, or hearing a small boy say, after I had prayed for his sore leg: ‘It’s better now.’
I was impressed with how caring they are. One 4 year old asked me: ‘Is your arm all right now?’ He had remembered that we had prayed for my tendinitis a few days previously.
I was impressed when one mother told me how her 4 year old had woken at 1am, asking if he could pray for New Wine.
I was impressed when parents said, time and time again, how the sessions (one and a half hours a day for five days) had changed their children’s lives. ‘Pebbles’ is not a babysitting service. It is not even some kind of a mini nursery school. The sole aim is to help the children have an encounter with Jesus. When that happens, no one is ever the same again.
I was impressed with the parents. I teach, having a good mix of parents to deal with, ranging from the charming to the downright unpleasant and aggressive. Yet the parents of the children, despite arriving with dripping coats and hair, or having had to wait precious minutes before the doors opened, making them late for their next session, were invariably delightful. They had had a difficult week in the rain and the mud yet they were incredibly positive. They were calm, smiling, thankful and enthusiastic: thrilled with the sessions offered in Pebbles.
I know, given the same circumstances, that most people would not have responded like this.
I’ve always said that the Holy Spirit is tangibly present in the quiet, listening atmosphere surrounding these tiny tots it is my privilege to work with this week.
Now I have seen the same presence in their parents.
Wednesday 22 July 2009
Taking stock
So... finished school nearly three weeks ago. What on earth have I been doing with my time since then?
1. Recovering my brain. Example of brain-mush: prepared salad for supper. Defrosted cooked chicken pieces. Put meal on table. Husband queried absence of protein, seeing only green salad and potato salad. Produced cheese for said protein. Ate meal. Finished meal. Remembered that chicken pieces (original protein element) were still in microwave, unused and lonely.
2. Catching up on desperate jobs: cleaning out email inbox, filing. Clearing out garage. Spring cleaning bookshelves and office. Shampooing carpets. Defrosting fridge and freezer. Result: satisfaction.
3. Catching up on non-essentials: making cards out of recycled bits and pieces.
4. Gardening. And more gardening.
5. The best bit of all: catching up with friends, Renee in particular. Celebrating her birthday.
The time has gone quickly.
Now it's truly holiday - for a while, before I catch up on school work. Richard and I go to New Wine tomorrow,seeing old friends - two lots - on the way. We rarely get to meet up with them these days, so that will be a real treat. There is nothing quite as exciting and revigorating as finding out about the wonderful things God is doing in the lives of those we love. Mmmm.
1. Recovering my brain. Example of brain-mush: prepared salad for supper. Defrosted cooked chicken pieces. Put meal on table. Husband queried absence of protein, seeing only green salad and potato salad. Produced cheese for said protein. Ate meal. Finished meal. Remembered that chicken pieces (original protein element) were still in microwave, unused and lonely.
2. Catching up on desperate jobs: cleaning out email inbox, filing. Clearing out garage. Spring cleaning bookshelves and office. Shampooing carpets. Defrosting fridge and freezer. Result: satisfaction.
3. Catching up on non-essentials: making cards out of recycled bits and pieces.
4. Gardening. And more gardening.
5. The best bit of all: catching up with friends, Renee in particular. Celebrating her birthday.
The time has gone quickly.
Now it's truly holiday - for a while, before I catch up on school work. Richard and I go to New Wine tomorrow,seeing old friends - two lots - on the way. We rarely get to meet up with them these days, so that will be a real treat. There is nothing quite as exciting and revigorating as finding out about the wonderful things God is doing in the lives of those we love. Mmmm.
Thursday 9 July 2009
A noisy life
So quiet on this blog for many weeks.
A month.
Quiet not because life has been quiet, nothing happening.
Quiet because life has been too noisy.
Noisy with ‘things to do’.
Noisy with ‘people to see’.
Noisy.
What is it about teaching that creates such panic as the end of the school year approaches? Why do we try to fit so much in?
Yes, the weather has something to do with it. This term we have had to cope with a seemingly endless cricket season. The hours the boys spend away from school almost, but not quite (I’m not that desperate) make me long for the football season. At least the matches are relatively short.
Just my class alone has had to fit in several trips – to our landfill and recycling sites (2 visits for them, 1 from me); to a concert; a fitness session; and a week away in England on a residential activity week.
Round the school, it has been the same, and more.
In school, we’ve had special assemblies, presentations, practices and rehearsals.
Out of school I’ve been on several day or half day courses. Fun, but a lot of work to prepare for my absence – far from ‘having a morning/day off’, it’s often easier just to stay in school and teach as normal.
All this is only the half of it. The time has disappeared in a blur. Life has been too noisy.
But… it’s holiday time now. If nothing else, it is a time to catch up on sleep and take a step back. Now life is not so noisy, I can see more clearly.
Hmmm – yes, I do like what I see!
PS - some reflections on our activity week away in Shropshire. Too busy to truly appreciate the scenery of this beautiful county on the Welsh Border...
Year 5 Activities Week: The Mathematics.
37 excited children + 4 excited teachers + 1,000,000 kg of luggage =
recipe for disaster - not really, I mean fun.
1 plane ride to Manchester. Duration: 1hour 15 minutes.
1 coach ride to RAF Cosford. Duration: Too long, we're all impatient.
2 fascinating hours spent looking at aeroplanes of all shapes and sizes.
1 activity centre arrived at, along with over 200 other children to play with on site.
37 boys in 4 small dormitory rooms.
15 different activities to do over the course of the week.
74 muddy trainers, 37 towels and hundreds of other assorted garments stuffed into the drying room after kayaking and canoeing.
360 arrows shot at 3 targets. 67 arrows missed completely. 21 arrows hit the bullseye.
1 climbing wall climbed up.
1 abseiling wall abseiled down.
4 tiring games of water polo played.
8 survival shelters built out of logs, branches, tarpaulins, ropes and leaves. 8 fires built and lit.
1 underground maze, 10 lost boys. 0 panic.
15 obstacles to be climbed up, over, down, round and through.
Countless rope ladders and bridges climbed up and along.
Hundreds of sweets from the Victorian sweet shop eaten in the Victorian village.
Approximately 20 pieces of unclaimed clothing left at the end of the week. (This is an amazingly low number!)
1 minor injury - a badly burst blister bravely born.
Countless examples of thoughtful and caring behaviour.
Countless hours of fun and games.
37 ecstatic children, 4 exhausted teachers, 999,999 kg of luggage = Year 5 2008 safely returned home.
A month.
Quiet not because life has been quiet, nothing happening.
Quiet because life has been too noisy.
Noisy with ‘things to do’.
Noisy with ‘people to see’.
Noisy.
What is it about teaching that creates such panic as the end of the school year approaches? Why do we try to fit so much in?
Yes, the weather has something to do with it. This term we have had to cope with a seemingly endless cricket season. The hours the boys spend away from school almost, but not quite (I’m not that desperate) make me long for the football season. At least the matches are relatively short.
Just my class alone has had to fit in several trips – to our landfill and recycling sites (2 visits for them, 1 from me); to a concert; a fitness session; and a week away in England on a residential activity week.
Round the school, it has been the same, and more.
In school, we’ve had special assemblies, presentations, practices and rehearsals.
Out of school I’ve been on several day or half day courses. Fun, but a lot of work to prepare for my absence – far from ‘having a morning/day off’, it’s often easier just to stay in school and teach as normal.
All this is only the half of it. The time has disappeared in a blur. Life has been too noisy.
But… it’s holiday time now. If nothing else, it is a time to catch up on sleep and take a step back. Now life is not so noisy, I can see more clearly.
Hmmm – yes, I do like what I see!
PS - some reflections on our activity week away in Shropshire. Too busy to truly appreciate the scenery of this beautiful county on the Welsh Border...
Year 5 Activities Week: The Mathematics.
37 excited children + 4 excited teachers + 1,000,000 kg of luggage =
recipe for disaster - not really, I mean fun.
1 plane ride to Manchester. Duration: 1hour 15 minutes.
1 coach ride to RAF Cosford. Duration: Too long, we're all impatient.
2 fascinating hours spent looking at aeroplanes of all shapes and sizes.
1 activity centre arrived at, along with over 200 other children to play with on site.
37 boys in 4 small dormitory rooms.
15 different activities to do over the course of the week.
74 muddy trainers, 37 towels and hundreds of other assorted garments stuffed into the drying room after kayaking and canoeing.
360 arrows shot at 3 targets. 67 arrows missed completely. 21 arrows hit the bullseye.
1 climbing wall climbed up.
1 abseiling wall abseiled down.
4 tiring games of water polo played.
8 survival shelters built out of logs, branches, tarpaulins, ropes and leaves. 8 fires built and lit.
1 underground maze, 10 lost boys. 0 panic.
15 obstacles to be climbed up, over, down, round and through.
Countless rope ladders and bridges climbed up and along.
Hundreds of sweets from the Victorian sweet shop eaten in the Victorian village.
Approximately 20 pieces of unclaimed clothing left at the end of the week. (This is an amazingly low number!)
1 minor injury - a badly burst blister bravely born.
Countless examples of thoughtful and caring behaviour.
Countless hours of fun and games.
37 ecstatic children, 4 exhausted teachers, 999,999 kg of luggage = Year 5 2008 safely returned home.
Saturday 6 June 2009
Digressions and a working breakfast
We’ve had wonderful weather here for the last couple of weeks. Brilliant blue skies, sunshine so clear you can almost touch it, sparkling seas… sometimes rustling and playing, white caps tossing tiny heads, or occasionally as still and calm as a translucent mirror.
But today is different.
Today, the skies are clouded and frowning. Sprinkles of rain-mist tap my face as I walk outside. The wind is chill.
So I’m here at school, trying to catch up. I have reports to write, an inbox which is bulging so much it is in real danger of physically splitting, a desk piled high with papers and files. And that’s after tidying and sorting out before I left on Friday… whoops, that was yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago.
What am I doing? None of that, obviously. Catching up on my blog. It’s important.
It’s important to stop and reflect. To take that deep breath and review where life has gone in the last couple of weeks and where it is heading off to next. I’m only talking the next 14 days or so.
It’s important.
My morning was a precious oasis of catch up time, too. Every month I love to host a breakfast for working ladies in our church – whose lives are too busy Monday to Friday to go to home groups or other socials but who crave more time with God and His people than they get on a Sunday. We feast together, chat together, laugh together and focus on God’s word together. I lead, we all share. A good friend has caught the vision and comes early with gifts of food, helps me prepare, welcomes everyone. The breakfast is open to all the church, but typically there are about 10 of us and we all fit comfortably around my big table. There are some old, some new faces; friendships are forged, renewed, deepened. We take time out to reflect on our working lives: on how God sustains us in and through our work, and on how we can return that favour – to our colleagues.
I talked this morning about prayer. And digression.
This is DIGRESSION. A breath of fresh air before I dive into work. And it is SO welcome!
But today is different.
Today, the skies are clouded and frowning. Sprinkles of rain-mist tap my face as I walk outside. The wind is chill.
So I’m here at school, trying to catch up. I have reports to write, an inbox which is bulging so much it is in real danger of physically splitting, a desk piled high with papers and files. And that’s after tidying and sorting out before I left on Friday… whoops, that was yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago.
What am I doing? None of that, obviously. Catching up on my blog. It’s important.
It’s important to stop and reflect. To take that deep breath and review where life has gone in the last couple of weeks and where it is heading off to next. I’m only talking the next 14 days or so.
It’s important.
My morning was a precious oasis of catch up time, too. Every month I love to host a breakfast for working ladies in our church – whose lives are too busy Monday to Friday to go to home groups or other socials but who crave more time with God and His people than they get on a Sunday. We feast together, chat together, laugh together and focus on God’s word together. I lead, we all share. A good friend has caught the vision and comes early with gifts of food, helps me prepare, welcomes everyone. The breakfast is open to all the church, but typically there are about 10 of us and we all fit comfortably around my big table. There are some old, some new faces; friendships are forged, renewed, deepened. We take time out to reflect on our working lives: on how God sustains us in and through our work, and on how we can return that favour – to our colleagues.
I talked this morning about prayer. And digression.
This is DIGRESSION. A breath of fresh air before I dive into work. And it is SO welcome!
Wednesday 3 June 2009
Africa Day reviewed
After all that hard work, I still had no idea how the day would go. But it was BRILLIANT. The activities ran like clockwork. A small army of mums occupied the kitchen and science lab, showing the children how to cook vegetable stew and chapatis. By 12.45pm, every child in the school had done some cooking. Elsewhere, children were busy compiling project files on a particular African country (we looked at 8 different countries altogether), making masks, learning Swahili, singing songs, or listening to traditional stories in the 'grandmother's hut' - a corner of the library bedecked with blankets and all kinds of baskets and other artefacts, including a huge drum made out of wood and goatskin.
The fire alarm went off mid-morning - twice. It was the fault of the chapatis, which were busy burning. We had to evacuate the buildings each time before we could all go back and carry on. It all added to the excitement of the day.
Later, we covered a map of Africa with coins and then held the teacher auction, raising money for the Tumaini Fund. Over £800 was raised to help AIDS orphans and widows in this remote part of Tanzania. The highlight of the day was seeing my friend Candy and I throw water balloons at each other - two boys had won this privilege and we generously let them join in. The screams of delight every time we scored a hit were heard several streets away!
The children are still talking about it. The newspaper wrote it up. Me? I can't wait for next year!
The fire alarm went off mid-morning - twice. It was the fault of the chapatis, which were busy burning. We had to evacuate the buildings each time before we could all go back and carry on. It all added to the excitement of the day.
Later, we covered a map of Africa with coins and then held the teacher auction, raising money for the Tumaini Fund. Over £800 was raised to help AIDS orphans and widows in this remote part of Tanzania. The highlight of the day was seeing my friend Candy and I throw water balloons at each other - two boys had won this privilege and we generously let them join in. The screams of delight every time we scored a hit were heard several streets away!
The children are still talking about it. The newspaper wrote it up. Me? I can't wait for next year!
Friday 29 May 2009
Africa Day
It is Africa Day at school today. A colleague and I have organised a day of cooking, story telling, music, language learning, geography and art - all around the theme of Africa. In the afternoon, we're having a coin drive and teacher auction to raise money for The Tumaini Fund, a charity which supports AIDS orphans and widows in Tanzania.
Great fun.
Yet it has taken nearly nine years for me to be able to even contemplate taking part in something like this, let alone initiating and organising it.
Pain.
Remembered pain, referred pain, projected pain. Selfish pain.
At least, now, I can introduce children to the uniqueness of Africa. To give them a glimpse into the continent and begin to explore its riches.
Without pain.
Great fun.
Yet it has taken nearly nine years for me to be able to even contemplate taking part in something like this, let alone initiating and organising it.
Pain.
Remembered pain, referred pain, projected pain. Selfish pain.
At least, now, I can introduce children to the uniqueness of Africa. To give them a glimpse into the continent and begin to explore its riches.
Without pain.
Tuesday 26 May 2009
Airports and waiting
I've waited a lot in airports over the years.
In Abidjan, waiting hours for a plane to arrive so I could leave Africa for, or so I thought, the last time.
In Nairobi, waiting for a plane so I could leave Africa for, or so I thought, the last time.
In countless other airports, waiting to leave.
Yesterday, I waited for an arrival.
Cat, home from uni.
I waited only an hour or so, while her plane circled overhead, unable to land. The airport firefighters, after months of difficulty - don't ask me what, they weren't even negotiating - finally downed tools and refused to work. (I won't say 'went on strike' because I don't know if that is the official term for what they did. It would be in my book, but we're into the complex and incomprehensible world of industrial relations here.)
The airport - airside - shut down. Planes stood on the tarmac, loading vehicles were abandoned by their drivers. Nothing moved out there.
Inside the terminal, people sat, stood, wandered, walked, argued, complained, chatted - as much on mobile phones as to each other, drank coffee, and gazed out at the silent runway.
I prayed. The option for Cat's plane was to return to Stansted. Her option was to go back to Norwich and be stuck in England for the next few days. I prayed.
Her plane was diverted to Jersey. Sadly, by two minor medical emergencies, precipitated by the long wait in the air. She was put up in a hotel and is enjoying a tiny mini-break. Staying in hotels isn't something that students usually do.
She's been desperate for a holiday. She's getting one now! I'm glad, even though I long to see her.
In Abidjan, waiting hours for a plane to arrive so I could leave Africa for, or so I thought, the last time.
In Nairobi, waiting for a plane so I could leave Africa for, or so I thought, the last time.
In countless other airports, waiting to leave.
Yesterday, I waited for an arrival.
Cat, home from uni.
I waited only an hour or so, while her plane circled overhead, unable to land. The airport firefighters, after months of difficulty - don't ask me what, they weren't even negotiating - finally downed tools and refused to work. (I won't say 'went on strike' because I don't know if that is the official term for what they did. It would be in my book, but we're into the complex and incomprehensible world of industrial relations here.)
The airport - airside - shut down. Planes stood on the tarmac, loading vehicles were abandoned by their drivers. Nothing moved out there.
Inside the terminal, people sat, stood, wandered, walked, argued, complained, chatted - as much on mobile phones as to each other, drank coffee, and gazed out at the silent runway.
I prayed. The option for Cat's plane was to return to Stansted. Her option was to go back to Norwich and be stuck in England for the next few days. I prayed.
Her plane was diverted to Jersey. Sadly, by two minor medical emergencies, precipitated by the long wait in the air. She was put up in a hotel and is enjoying a tiny mini-break. Staying in hotels isn't something that students usually do.
She's been desperate for a holiday. She's getting one now! I'm glad, even though I long to see her.
Friday 22 May 2009
Whoop whoop!
What a week! Thought I was busy a few days ago, but...
Anyway, in the Easter holidays I spent a couple of days - and I mean days, not hours - of work putting together an application for an award to develop the conservation area behind our school garden. I'm not a graphic designer or even have artistic talent, so it was quite a challenge to create a digital map of our school garden, with accompanying photos. The plans included putting up nesting boxes, creating all kinds of habitats for insects, planting shrubs and climbers, planting a boggy area... the possibilities seemed endless. So I put it all together and sent it off hopefully.
To my delight, we were shortlisted. A large group of conservationists - I lost track of all the different organisations they represented - came and looked around, took photos, interviewed me (on camera!) and then said they'd be in touch. We were invited to the awards ceremony a week later.
Much to my delight and surprise, we were awarded the prize jointly with the other shortlisted school - £1000 to spend over three years. Not only that, but the conservationists gave me an even more exciting idea - put up owl boxes on two of our tall trees. Might even get kestrels. Wow!
Anyway, in the Easter holidays I spent a couple of days - and I mean days, not hours - of work putting together an application for an award to develop the conservation area behind our school garden. I'm not a graphic designer or even have artistic talent, so it was quite a challenge to create a digital map of our school garden, with accompanying photos. The plans included putting up nesting boxes, creating all kinds of habitats for insects, planting shrubs and climbers, planting a boggy area... the possibilities seemed endless. So I put it all together and sent it off hopefully.
To my delight, we were shortlisted. A large group of conservationists - I lost track of all the different organisations they represented - came and looked around, took photos, interviewed me (on camera!) and then said they'd be in touch. We were invited to the awards ceremony a week later.
Much to my delight and surprise, we were awarded the prize jointly with the other shortlisted school - £1000 to spend over three years. Not only that, but the conservationists gave me an even more exciting idea - put up owl boxes on two of our tall trees. Might even get kestrels. Wow!
Tuesday 12 May 2009
Busy
My days seem so full that, when I look back, a day seems as long as a week. I can hardly believe that so much can happen. I feel both like the child who says, when asked what she did at school, answers 'Nothing,' and yet the lines of the poem are also true: A day to childhood seems a year, a year like passing ages.
Today was an example.
Today, I...
ordered 40 clipboards.
edited an article for our school magazine.
scanned some children's work.
received an invitation to an awards ceremony.
issued invitations to the same ceremony to a group of children from gardening club.
marked English, History, Geography and maths.
attended a staff meeting.
worked on a cross-curricular day which one of the teaching assistants and I are organising in a couple of weeks.
tried to borrow a tent for the same day.
emailed our PSHE advisor about changes to the curriculum.
set a date for a publicity event for our new school garden.
emailed the headmaster of our link school in a remote area of Tanzania.
emailed a parent about an absent child.
met with another parent, concerned about her son missing some lessons.
discussed a discipline issue with a boy.
laughed over a small boy's antics: in his haste to get to lunch on time, he catapulted out of the changing rooms, tie loosely around his neck but completely separate from his shirt collar, shirt untucked, hair awry after a hurried change, just avoiding cannoning into a wall.
and TAUGHT SOME LESSONS!
and checked my diary through very carefully - so much happening in the next few weeks.
Not like today, then.
Today was an example.
Today, I...
ordered 40 clipboards.
edited an article for our school magazine.
scanned some children's work.
received an invitation to an awards ceremony.
issued invitations to the same ceremony to a group of children from gardening club.
marked English, History, Geography and maths.
attended a staff meeting.
worked on a cross-curricular day which one of the teaching assistants and I are organising in a couple of weeks.
tried to borrow a tent for the same day.
emailed our PSHE advisor about changes to the curriculum.
set a date for a publicity event for our new school garden.
emailed the headmaster of our link school in a remote area of Tanzania.
emailed a parent about an absent child.
met with another parent, concerned about her son missing some lessons.
discussed a discipline issue with a boy.
laughed over a small boy's antics: in his haste to get to lunch on time, he catapulted out of the changing rooms, tie loosely around his neck but completely separate from his shirt collar, shirt untucked, hair awry after a hurried change, just avoiding cannoning into a wall.
and TAUGHT SOME LESSONS!
and checked my diary through very carefully - so much happening in the next few weeks.
Not like today, then.
Sunday 10 May 2009
Praying through the beatitudes
I came across this in an article in Discipleship Journal by one Steve Hawthorne. I struggle a little with the language - not quite 'everyday' enough for me, but I love the idea. Thanks, Steve.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The Request: Shake, sift, and sort their lives. Expose what is worthless. Exalt what is of lasting value. Grant courage that they may declare spiritual bankruptcy in order to receive Your kingdom.
The Blessing: We speak upon them heaven's best treasures: deliverance, joy, and peace under the kind kingship of Father God.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
The Request: Embrace them in Your arms. For every sorrow, show Your even deeper grief, that they may not turn bitter in their own self-pity. Grant them a taste of Your goodness and greater joy.
The Blessing: Upon them we speak peace upon anger; solace upon anguish; and God's own presence to unlock the prisons of loneliness.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
The Request: Grant them new humility. Empty them of self-made grandeur and false pride.
The Blessing: We speak upon them the boundless destiny of God's family: generous contentment, safety, and significance in His increasing dominion.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
The Request: Impel them onward whenever they yearn for a right life before You. Enlarge their appetite to see the world made right in Your time and way.
The Blessing: We speak upon them a share of God's own satisfied delight in inner-heart goodness, and a clear view of God's justice.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
The Request: Unlock closed hearts to forgive. Lift the binding patterns of iniquity. Set off a chain reaction of mercy in their homes.
The Blessing: We speak upon them Your mercy, that Your prevailing love would interrupt the course of events brought on by circumstances or sin.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
The Request: By Your finished work in Jesus' death, launder their life from inside out.
The Blessing: Blessed are the eyes of their hearts, that cleansed inside they may see their entire world filled with Father God, illumined by the light of the greater days to come.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called [children] of God.
The Request: Grant them wise authority to quench the escalating rage of evil and bring forth heaven's peace.
The Blessing: We call them now what You would have them be: Father God's own children, marked by His character.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The Request: For those harassed because of doing and pursuing right things with Jesus, grant patient wisdom to follow Jesus throughout the days of trouble.
The Blessing: We would give them open ears to hear heaven's pleasure, the applause of Father God's joy in those who live like His Son.
NavPress
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The Request: Shake, sift, and sort their lives. Expose what is worthless. Exalt what is of lasting value. Grant courage that they may declare spiritual bankruptcy in order to receive Your kingdom.
The Blessing: We speak upon them heaven's best treasures: deliverance, joy, and peace under the kind kingship of Father God.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
The Request: Embrace them in Your arms. For every sorrow, show Your even deeper grief, that they may not turn bitter in their own self-pity. Grant them a taste of Your goodness and greater joy.
The Blessing: Upon them we speak peace upon anger; solace upon anguish; and God's own presence to unlock the prisons of loneliness.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
The Request: Grant them new humility. Empty them of self-made grandeur and false pride.
The Blessing: We speak upon them the boundless destiny of God's family: generous contentment, safety, and significance in His increasing dominion.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
The Request: Impel them onward whenever they yearn for a right life before You. Enlarge their appetite to see the world made right in Your time and way.
The Blessing: We speak upon them a share of God's own satisfied delight in inner-heart goodness, and a clear view of God's justice.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
The Request: Unlock closed hearts to forgive. Lift the binding patterns of iniquity. Set off a chain reaction of mercy in their homes.
The Blessing: We speak upon them Your mercy, that Your prevailing love would interrupt the course of events brought on by circumstances or sin.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
The Request: By Your finished work in Jesus' death, launder their life from inside out.
The Blessing: Blessed are the eyes of their hearts, that cleansed inside they may see their entire world filled with Father God, illumined by the light of the greater days to come.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called [children] of God.
The Request: Grant them wise authority to quench the escalating rage of evil and bring forth heaven's peace.
The Blessing: We call them now what You would have them be: Father God's own children, marked by His character.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The Request: For those harassed because of doing and pursuing right things with Jesus, grant patient wisdom to follow Jesus throughout the days of trouble.
The Blessing: We would give them open ears to hear heaven's pleasure, the applause of Father God's joy in those who live like His Son.
NavPress
Monday 27 April 2009
Shoes in the church...
I showered and shaved, I adjusted my tie.
I got there and sat,In a pew just in time
Bowing my head in prayer, As I closed my eyes.
I saw the shoe of the man next to me, Touching my own. I sighed.
With plenty of room on either side, I thought, "Why must our soles
touch?"
It bothered me, his shoe touching mine, But it didn't bother him much.
A prayer began: "Our Father", I thought, "This man with the shoes.. Has no pride.
They're dusty, worn, and scratched. Even worse, there are holes on the side!"
"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.
The shoe man said A quiet "Amen."
I tried to focus on the prayer But my thoughts were on his shoes
again.
Aren't we supposed to look our best When walking through that door?
"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought, Glancing toward the floor.
Then the prayer was ended And the songs of praise began.
The shoe man was certainly loud Sounding proud as he sang.
His voice lifted the rafters His hands were raised high.
The Lord could surely hear.. The shoe man's voice from the sky.
It was time for the offering And what I threw in was steep.
I watched as the shoe man reached Into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out What the shoe man put in.
Then I heard a soft "clink" . As when silver hits tin.
The sermon really bored me To tears, and that's no lie.
It was the same for the shoe man For tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service As is the custom here.
We must greet new visitors And show them all good cheer.
But I felt moved somehow And wanted to meet the shoe man.
So after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark And his hair was truly a mess.
But I thanked him for coming For being our guest.
He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you, my friend."
There were tears in his eyes But he had a large, wide grin.
"Let me explain," he said. Wiping tears from his eyes.
"I've been coming here for monthsAnd you're the first to say 'Hi.'"
"I know that my appearanceIs not like all the rest.
"But I really do try To always look my best."
"I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk.
"But by the time I get here They're dirty and dusty, like chalk."
My heart filled with pain, And I swallowed to hide my tears.
As he continued to apologize For daring to sit so near.
He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight.
"But I thought if I could touch you Then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment Knowing whatever was said
Would pale in comparison I spoke from my heart, not my head.
"Oh, you've touched me," I said "And taught me, in part;
"That the best of any man Is what is found in his heart."
The rest, I thought, This shoe man will never know.
Like just how thankful I really am That his dirty old shoe touched my soul.
I got there and sat,In a pew just in time
Bowing my head in prayer, As I closed my eyes.
I saw the shoe of the man next to me, Touching my own. I sighed.
With plenty of room on either side, I thought, "Why must our soles
touch?"
It bothered me, his shoe touching mine, But it didn't bother him much.
A prayer began: "Our Father", I thought, "This man with the shoes.. Has no pride.
They're dusty, worn, and scratched. Even worse, there are holes on the side!"
"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.
The shoe man said A quiet "Amen."
I tried to focus on the prayer But my thoughts were on his shoes
again.
Aren't we supposed to look our best When walking through that door?
"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought, Glancing toward the floor.
Then the prayer was ended And the songs of praise began.
The shoe man was certainly loud Sounding proud as he sang.
His voice lifted the rafters His hands were raised high.
The Lord could surely hear.. The shoe man's voice from the sky.
It was time for the offering And what I threw in was steep.
I watched as the shoe man reached Into his pockets so deep.
I saw what was pulled out What the shoe man put in.
Then I heard a soft "clink" . As when silver hits tin.
The sermon really bored me To tears, and that's no lie.
It was the same for the shoe man For tears fell from his eyes.
At the end of the service As is the custom here.
We must greet new visitors And show them all good cheer.
But I felt moved somehow And wanted to meet the shoe man.
So after the closing prayer I reached over and shook his hand.
He was old and his skin was dark And his hair was truly a mess.
But I thanked him for coming For being our guest.
He said, "My names' Charlie I'm glad to meet you, my friend."
There were tears in his eyes But he had a large, wide grin.
"Let me explain," he said. Wiping tears from his eyes.
"I've been coming here for monthsAnd you're the first to say 'Hi.'"
"I know that my appearanceIs not like all the rest.
"But I really do try To always look my best."
"I always clean and polish my shoes before my very long walk.
"But by the time I get here They're dirty and dusty, like chalk."
My heart filled with pain, And I swallowed to hide my tears.
As he continued to apologize For daring to sit so near.
He said, "When I get here I know I must look a sight.
"But I thought if I could touch you Then maybe our souls might unite."
I was silent for a moment Knowing whatever was said
Would pale in comparison I spoke from my heart, not my head.
"Oh, you've touched me," I said "And taught me, in part;
"That the best of any man Is what is found in his heart."
The rest, I thought, This shoe man will never know.
Like just how thankful I really am That his dirty old shoe touched my soul.
Sunday 26 April 2009
Prayer of Sir Francis Drake
I found this beautiful prayer on Anthony Delaney's website www.anthonydelaney.com
Disturb us, Lord, when We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.
Disturb us, Lord, when We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.
Saturday 18 April 2009
Calm
If my day was a menu, it would have looked like this:
My starter was gazpacho.
Deliciously chilled, yet full of flavour
as I picked up on little tasks: a spot of cleaning,
reviewing a story, answering an email,
chatting on facebook.
No stress.
Lunch was tagliatelli carbonara
with wild rocket and mushroom salad
laced with parmesan shavings,
as I wove my way around town with my children and my dog,
running little errands
enjoying having time to do these things together.
Afternoon tea was what it said on the tin:
a feast of freshly made scones, Guernsey butter,
home made jam and coffee, walnut layer cake.
My best friend Renee shares her life with me:
her wisdom, her love,her kindliness are better than food.
Than fruit cake, even.
Dinner: potato salad, drenched in olive oil, lemon juice and fresh herbs.
Tuna. Newly grown vine tomatoes.
Being with family: my husband, my son, my daughter, my dog.
As varied as potato salad,yet all mixed together.
Laughing.
Telling each other: "I love you."
My starter was gazpacho.
Deliciously chilled, yet full of flavour
as I picked up on little tasks: a spot of cleaning,
reviewing a story, answering an email,
chatting on facebook.
No stress.
Lunch was tagliatelli carbonara
with wild rocket and mushroom salad
laced with parmesan shavings,
as I wove my way around town with my children and my dog,
running little errands
enjoying having time to do these things together.
Afternoon tea was what it said on the tin:
a feast of freshly made scones, Guernsey butter,
home made jam and coffee, walnut layer cake.
My best friend Renee shares her life with me:
her wisdom, her love,her kindliness are better than food.
Than fruit cake, even.
Dinner: potato salad, drenched in olive oil, lemon juice and fresh herbs.
Tuna. Newly grown vine tomatoes.
Being with family: my husband, my son, my daughter, my dog.
As varied as potato salad,yet all mixed together.
Laughing.
Telling each other: "I love you."
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Appointments and random opportunities
When did we get so busy?
When I was younger,
I did not need appointments to see my friends.
I went to them.
They came to me.
We were drawn together like loose magnets.
When I lived in a different place:
at college
in Sweden
in Africa
I did not need appointments to see my friends.
Sometimes I would make them anyway.
To drive one hundred miles, to find your friend is not in,
is a disappointment too great to bear easily.
But still
I went to them.
They came to me.
We were drawn together like loose magnets.
Now I am older.
Now I live in this English culture.
I need appointments to see my friends.
My life is busy, structured.
I need to diarise my opportunities, write them on a calendar.
When my time is free, it is 'catch-up': at home, at work.
I find it interesting that the only place I do not make appointments to see my friends is at work.
I drop in to a colleague's classroom unannounced.
We chat about work. Sometimes we chat about personal matters.
We do not make appointments.
Interesting.
Can I change things? Do I want to?
When I was younger,
I did not need appointments to see my friends.
I went to them.
They came to me.
We were drawn together like loose magnets.
When I lived in a different place:
at college
in Sweden
in Africa
I did not need appointments to see my friends.
Sometimes I would make them anyway.
To drive one hundred miles, to find your friend is not in,
is a disappointment too great to bear easily.
But still
I went to them.
They came to me.
We were drawn together like loose magnets.
Now I am older.
Now I live in this English culture.
I need appointments to see my friends.
My life is busy, structured.
I need to diarise my opportunities, write them on a calendar.
When my time is free, it is 'catch-up': at home, at work.
I find it interesting that the only place I do not make appointments to see my friends is at work.
I drop in to a colleague's classroom unannounced.
We chat about work. Sometimes we chat about personal matters.
We do not make appointments.
Interesting.
Can I change things? Do I want to?
Monday 13 April 2009
Simnel Cake
I made you for the first time today.
I made you.
I remembered your sweetness from another life.
A life in my mother's house, covered with innocence of tiny chicks and pink icing.
A life in Africa: plain, simple, no adornments.
Now you enter my life again.
I remembered the richness of you, the moisture, the promise of hidden secrets.
The eggs, symbols of the new life we have.
The flour of a bountiful harvest.
The sugar, produced by hard working hands in the cane fields.
The vine fruits, picked by hand, spread out in the sun on rough sacking to dry.
The nuts, ground fine - because 'bought marzipan will do, but homemade is better' says my mother, baker and lover of cakes, maker and decorator of children.
These things are of my life, yet come from other lives of mine.
The eggs I gathered as a child, staying on a farm in Norfolk.
The flour, ground from the wheat my sister-in-law had harvested.
The sugar, produced by friends in western Kenya, who laboured from before dawn to beyond dusk to hack and cut the unyielding cane.
The grapes, picked by my Cretan sister's neighbours, dried in the village fields. Withering, changing until I could once again revive their plumpness.
The nuts I bought in a Kenyan market, paying by the heaped tin, sorting through for insects. Grinding by hand, kneading with the egg and sugar, working,working into marchpane sweetmeat.
Simnel cake, you echo the Passover meal. Eggs roasted, celebrating freedom and new life. Fruits, resembling the bricks and mortar made by those slaves in Egypt. The sugar sweetness of freedom. The grapes which grew so abundantly in the Promised Land.
Now, Simnel cake, you echo Easter.
New life; abundance; sweetness of forgiveness;becoming one with Jesus in the vine of his kingdom.
Simnel cake, I made you.
I rejoice in what you are made of.
I made you.
I remembered your sweetness from another life.
A life in my mother's house, covered with innocence of tiny chicks and pink icing.
A life in Africa: plain, simple, no adornments.
Now you enter my life again.
I remembered the richness of you, the moisture, the promise of hidden secrets.
The eggs, symbols of the new life we have.
The flour of a bountiful harvest.
The sugar, produced by hard working hands in the cane fields.
The vine fruits, picked by hand, spread out in the sun on rough sacking to dry.
The nuts, ground fine - because 'bought marzipan will do, but homemade is better' says my mother, baker and lover of cakes, maker and decorator of children.
These things are of my life, yet come from other lives of mine.
The eggs I gathered as a child, staying on a farm in Norfolk.
The flour, ground from the wheat my sister-in-law had harvested.
The sugar, produced by friends in western Kenya, who laboured from before dawn to beyond dusk to hack and cut the unyielding cane.
The grapes, picked by my Cretan sister's neighbours, dried in the village fields. Withering, changing until I could once again revive their plumpness.
The nuts I bought in a Kenyan market, paying by the heaped tin, sorting through for insects. Grinding by hand, kneading with the egg and sugar, working,working into marchpane sweetmeat.
Simnel cake, you echo the Passover meal. Eggs roasted, celebrating freedom and new life. Fruits, resembling the bricks and mortar made by those slaves in Egypt. The sugar sweetness of freedom. The grapes which grew so abundantly in the Promised Land.
Now, Simnel cake, you echo Easter.
New life; abundance; sweetness of forgiveness;becoming one with Jesus in the vine of his kingdom.
Simnel cake, I made you.
I rejoice in what you are made of.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Spring is sprung
My father used to recite this little verse:
Spring is sprung,
De grass is riz,
I wonder where dem boidies is?
De little boids is on de wing,
Ain’t dat absurd?
De wings is on de little boid!
Spring is definitely springing, if not yet completely sprung, as the leaves start to poke out of the tree branches. Every spring is, in effect, an act of new creation. I love this time of year, when the weather is clear and sunny, the branches are bare with a hint of green just beginning to show, and the air is filled with birdsong. Creation seems about to explode with life!
Yesterday, a mother duck, accompanied by eight tiny, timide, newly hatched ducklings, arrived on the pond. She spent the whole time swimming around, anxiously quacking advice - her beak was never still for a second. The ducklings stuck to her like glue to start with: a yacht with eight dinghies in tow; but after a while they started to cruise around, mini-dodgem cars, on their own. Then, after their swim, they clambered out onto the grass and dried off, huddling beneath their mother's wings.
An image of God's care for us.
Spring is sprung,
De grass is riz,
I wonder where dem boidies is?
De little boids is on de wing,
Ain’t dat absurd?
De wings is on de little boid!
Spring is definitely springing, if not yet completely sprung, as the leaves start to poke out of the tree branches. Every spring is, in effect, an act of new creation. I love this time of year, when the weather is clear and sunny, the branches are bare with a hint of green just beginning to show, and the air is filled with birdsong. Creation seems about to explode with life!
Yesterday, a mother duck, accompanied by eight tiny, timide, newly hatched ducklings, arrived on the pond. She spent the whole time swimming around, anxiously quacking advice - her beak was never still for a second. The ducklings stuck to her like glue to start with: a yacht with eight dinghies in tow; but after a while they started to cruise around, mini-dodgem cars, on their own. Then, after their swim, they clambered out onto the grass and dried off, huddling beneath their mother's wings.
An image of God's care for us.
Wednesday 1 April 2009
The Parable of the Talents - take two.
Our class assembly today. The parable of the talents. It was WONDERFUL.
From a chaotic beginning, the children had put together a superb explanation of all our work in the last couple of weeks.
There was a serious introduction.
Then a re-enactment of the parable, complete with props and costumes.
The detailed explanations and a powerpoint explaining how the boys had been given £1 each, which they then 'multiplied'.
Many had made cakes and other goodies, which they sold in school; at the hockey club; in their parents' offices. One cooked dinner for his family. Another made bookmarks and Easter chicks. Another bought and sold 'Gogos' - tiny plastic collectable figures. Yet another bought sweets, which he used to pay his sister to go round with a collecting tin, dishing out stickers whenever someone contributed. (He was a little embarrassed about this particular venture, when he saw how hard his classmates had worked to bake and produce goods for sale.) Two boys washed cars. Some made and sold jewellery. There seemed to be no end to their ingenuity.
Then they showed what talents they had. Drumming, guitar playing, football, hockey, cartwheels... yet another powerpoint, accompanied by videos. All showcased by two boys who had computers all sussed out.
Finally, a beautiful prayer, heart-wrenching in its sincerity and appropriateness. It even rhymed.
30 boys had raised over £450 for a project which supports AIDS widows and orphans in Tanzania. And had had an absolute ball at the same time.
Brilliant fun.
From a chaotic beginning, the children had put together a superb explanation of all our work in the last couple of weeks.
There was a serious introduction.
Then a re-enactment of the parable, complete with props and costumes.
The detailed explanations and a powerpoint explaining how the boys had been given £1 each, which they then 'multiplied'.
Many had made cakes and other goodies, which they sold in school; at the hockey club; in their parents' offices. One cooked dinner for his family. Another made bookmarks and Easter chicks. Another bought and sold 'Gogos' - tiny plastic collectable figures. Yet another bought sweets, which he used to pay his sister to go round with a collecting tin, dishing out stickers whenever someone contributed. (He was a little embarrassed about this particular venture, when he saw how hard his classmates had worked to bake and produce goods for sale.) Two boys washed cars. Some made and sold jewellery. There seemed to be no end to their ingenuity.
Then they showed what talents they had. Drumming, guitar playing, football, hockey, cartwheels... yet another powerpoint, accompanied by videos. All showcased by two boys who had computers all sussed out.
Finally, a beautiful prayer, heart-wrenching in its sincerity and appropriateness. It even rhymed.
30 boys had raised over £450 for a project which supports AIDS widows and orphans in Tanzania. And had had an absolute ball at the same time.
Brilliant fun.
Saturday 28 March 2009
8 point update
I just had to put this on the blog. Hilarious - really brightened my day, for all sorts of reasons.
heyllo parental
Just thought I would update you on everything that is happening in my life.
1. I have 4,500 words to write in 5 days.
2. I want to work with nomads when I'm older.
3. Nicola went bin-raiding yesterday and brought home lots of sandwiches, one of which I will have for lunch.
4. I am dressing up as "Rocky" from the film "Rocky" and playing frisbee this weekend at the Aye-Aye (UEA frisbee team) fun tournament.
5. I accidentally (it really wasn't my fault!) became women's captain for frisbee next year.
6. I need to talk to you about flights etc - not sure whether to come home on saturday 4th or sunday 5th - depending on numbers?
7. Things with South Africa are proceeding, I have taken on board your security comments and am setting up a meeting to talk this through with the course convenor and I will be seeing John Mcdonagh (my dissertation supervisor) next week to talk about my dissertation so I will also run your queries by him. Also, I will be talking to Liesl tomorrow over Skype (hopefully it will work!) to talk some other things through so I will try and get an idea from her about how things stand.
8. Partners Group agreed to take me back for 2 weeks over easter - AND they gave me a pay rise! oh yeah! I will also be working in Hedge funds and Legals - not P&D! Woo hoo! ( I hope this bit of good news means you forget the other bad news about womens captain...?!)
I trust you enjoyed this concise and succinct report.
Yours sincerely,
Catharine Pollard.
(Daughter)
heyllo parental
Just thought I would update you on everything that is happening in my life.
1. I have 4,500 words to write in 5 days.
2. I want to work with nomads when I'm older.
3. Nicola went bin-raiding yesterday and brought home lots of sandwiches, one of which I will have for lunch.
4. I am dressing up as "Rocky" from the film "Rocky" and playing frisbee this weekend at the Aye-Aye (UEA frisbee team) fun tournament.
5. I accidentally (it really wasn't my fault!) became women's captain for frisbee next year.
6. I need to talk to you about flights etc - not sure whether to come home on saturday 4th or sunday 5th - depending on numbers?
7. Things with South Africa are proceeding, I have taken on board your security comments and am setting up a meeting to talk this through with the course convenor and I will be seeing John Mcdonagh (my dissertation supervisor) next week to talk about my dissertation so I will also run your queries by him. Also, I will be talking to Liesl tomorrow over Skype (hopefully it will work!) to talk some other things through so I will try and get an idea from her about how things stand.
8. Partners Group agreed to take me back for 2 weeks over easter - AND they gave me a pay rise! oh yeah! I will also be working in Hedge funds and Legals - not P&D! Woo hoo! ( I hope this bit of good news means you forget the other bad news about womens captain...?!)
I trust you enjoyed this concise and succinct report.
Yours sincerely,
Catharine Pollard.
(Daughter)
Thursday 26 March 2009
The Parable of the Talents
My class are preparing to hold a school assembly next week. We’re sharing what they have learnt about the parable of the talents. Part of it is a drama. Rehearsals aren’t going too well.
“And it came about,” pronounced Don, the narrator, “that a certain rich master was going on a journey. He called his servants and gave them money to look after. To one he gave 5 gold coins, to another 2, and to a third 1 gold coin. Then he left them.”
Jono, the master, shuffled along the line, shoving chocolate money into the eager hands of three of his classmates. “Here ya are,” he said casually. “OK then. See ya!” With a wiggle of the hips, he started to mince off stage, flapping his hand limply with more ‘bye bye’s as he went.
“Not like that!” yelled Don. “You’re supposed to be the MASTER. You’re s’posed to be… to be… well, not like that. You can’t just say ‘bye bye’. You’re the MASTER.”
Meanwhile, the three servants were testing the coins in the time honoured way to see if they were real gold. Biting them. At least they weren’t removing the foil wrapping.
“OK,” agreed Jono, mincing back to his original place, “I’ll do it again.”
Don rolled his eyes.
“I think,” said Steve, who had been standing to one side with a thoughtful frown on his face, “I think we servants should come up to the Master. He should call us.”
“Good idea.”
Jono marched over to the servants, snatching the coins out of their hands before wiping them fastidiously on his sleeve.
And it came about,” pronounced Don, slightly wearily this time, “that a certain rich master was going on a journey. He called his servants and gave them money to look after. To one he gave 5 gold coins… to one he gave 5 gold coins… TO ONE HE GAVE 5 GOLD COINS…”
“Oh, is it me?” asked Phil, as Steve gave a shove in the back to push him forward on stage. “Oh, OK then.” He shuffled forward in his best Uriah Heep fashion, rubbing his hands together and grinning in anticipation. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing so low his head almost hit Jono's knees.
"Oy, watch out!" yelled Jono, moving back nimbly. He dropped the other coins in his hand. Petey, the third servant, dived to the floor, grabbing every coin he could.
"Give those 'ere," snarled Jono, prising Petey's fists open and levering the coins out of his hands.
"Come on, come, on, get on with it," growled Don. "To one he gave TWO gold coins. TWO, not three. You're not supposed to give him ALL of them."
Jono scowled, snatching a coin back from Steve.
"OK I know this bit. Come here, servant, I'm giving you a coin. Make sure you look after it and don't lose it. I'll be back in a week - or a month - or maybe next year."
"You're not supposed to say that!" screamed Don, his face an alarming shade of pink, "that's MY bit. You just give him the coin."
"Why can't I say it?" asked Jono. "I wouldn't really just give him a coin without saying anythin', would I? I'm the Master an' all. Anyway, why do YOU get to say everything?"
"Yeah," chimed in Steve and Petey, "we want to say more stuff too. Why should we just stand there and not have anything to say?"
"Oh, OK," sighed Don. "Say what you like. I don't care." He stomped back to his chair and plonked himself down, folding his arms and scowling.
Steve took his coins, strolling off as Petey approached the master. Head down, one leg out at an awkward angle, Petey dragged his foot behind him, shoulders hunched and his body lurching almost drunkenly. He sniffed, then stuck out his hand, lower lip stuck truculently out.
It was too much for Don. Leaping to his feet, he yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
Petey took it literally. "I'm a servant an' I'm poor," he said.
"Just because you're a servant doesn't mean that you have to walk like that," shouted Don in exasperation. "Just act normal!"
Normal? Petey, Steve, Phil and Jono exchanged glances. Normal? Of course they were acting normal. Couldn't he tell?
“And it came about,” pronounced Don, the narrator, “that a certain rich master was going on a journey. He called his servants and gave them money to look after. To one he gave 5 gold coins, to another 2, and to a third 1 gold coin. Then he left them.”
Jono, the master, shuffled along the line, shoving chocolate money into the eager hands of three of his classmates. “Here ya are,” he said casually. “OK then. See ya!” With a wiggle of the hips, he started to mince off stage, flapping his hand limply with more ‘bye bye’s as he went.
“Not like that!” yelled Don. “You’re supposed to be the MASTER. You’re s’posed to be… to be… well, not like that. You can’t just say ‘bye bye’. You’re the MASTER.”
Meanwhile, the three servants were testing the coins in the time honoured way to see if they were real gold. Biting them. At least they weren’t removing the foil wrapping.
“OK,” agreed Jono, mincing back to his original place, “I’ll do it again.”
Don rolled his eyes.
“I think,” said Steve, who had been standing to one side with a thoughtful frown on his face, “I think we servants should come up to the Master. He should call us.”
“Good idea.”
Jono marched over to the servants, snatching the coins out of their hands before wiping them fastidiously on his sleeve.
And it came about,” pronounced Don, slightly wearily this time, “that a certain rich master was going on a journey. He called his servants and gave them money to look after. To one he gave 5 gold coins… to one he gave 5 gold coins… TO ONE HE GAVE 5 GOLD COINS…”
“Oh, is it me?” asked Phil, as Steve gave a shove in the back to push him forward on stage. “Oh, OK then.” He shuffled forward in his best Uriah Heep fashion, rubbing his hands together and grinning in anticipation. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing so low his head almost hit Jono's knees.
"Oy, watch out!" yelled Jono, moving back nimbly. He dropped the other coins in his hand. Petey, the third servant, dived to the floor, grabbing every coin he could.
"Give those 'ere," snarled Jono, prising Petey's fists open and levering the coins out of his hands.
"Come on, come, on, get on with it," growled Don. "To one he gave TWO gold coins. TWO, not three. You're not supposed to give him ALL of them."
Jono scowled, snatching a coin back from Steve.
"OK I know this bit. Come here, servant, I'm giving you a coin. Make sure you look after it and don't lose it. I'll be back in a week - or a month - or maybe next year."
"You're not supposed to say that!" screamed Don, his face an alarming shade of pink, "that's MY bit. You just give him the coin."
"Why can't I say it?" asked Jono. "I wouldn't really just give him a coin without saying anythin', would I? I'm the Master an' all. Anyway, why do YOU get to say everything?"
"Yeah," chimed in Steve and Petey, "we want to say more stuff too. Why should we just stand there and not have anything to say?"
"Oh, OK," sighed Don. "Say what you like. I don't care." He stomped back to his chair and plonked himself down, folding his arms and scowling.
Steve took his coins, strolling off as Petey approached the master. Head down, one leg out at an awkward angle, Petey dragged his foot behind him, shoulders hunched and his body lurching almost drunkenly. He sniffed, then stuck out his hand, lower lip stuck truculently out.
It was too much for Don. Leaping to his feet, he yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
Petey took it literally. "I'm a servant an' I'm poor," he said.
"Just because you're a servant doesn't mean that you have to walk like that," shouted Don in exasperation. "Just act normal!"
Normal? Petey, Steve, Phil and Jono exchanged glances. Normal? Of course they were acting normal. Couldn't he tell?
Monday 23 March 2009
Catch up
Thought I’d just catch up on myself for a while. Since starting my Lent thoughts, there hasn’t been much time for jotting down on the blog. Neither does it seem very important, actually. So, looking back, I seem to start thoughts – but not finish.
Take the school inspection. It was a LOT of work to get ready for it. And I mean a lot. The week before, I stayed at school until gone 7 for two of the evenings – only leaving because I had another meeting to go to. It wasn’t HARD work, just time-consuming as we tidied up in all areas: making sure the classrooms were as neat and tidy as possibly, tidying up the children’s work, tidying up our planning and paperwork, tidying our desks, tidying our minds. I guess I was tidied out by the time the inspectors arrived, and the time they were here wasn’t at all stressful. Just busy and a little tense. It was a gift every time I taught an unobserved lesson – and the children benefited. My teaching is twice as good when there is no one looking – or, I should say, only half good enough when someone is. And, in the end, I was only observed three or four times in two days, so not bad really.
So that was that.
Another major excitement was the tadpoles. Joseph brought in some quite mature tadpoles in an ice cream box, the same day I tried again with another batch of frogspawn. I’ve managed to put the photos onto a powerpoint presentation and run it every morning for the children to see their progress. Plus, of course, the little crowd that peers in at the little wrigglers several times a day.
Then there are the willow shoots in a vase, sending out roots under water.
It’s all quite fascinating. “Mrs P, why have you got tadpoles on your desk?” asked one child. “And why have you got twigs?”
“For fun,” I replied.
“For fun?” was the puzzled answer. “Just for fun?”
“Of course. The fun of watching things grow. Just watch how these roots are going!”
But the main excitement has been the multiplying of the talents. I’ve talked about it over at Words From God For Today, where I’ve given all the boys in the year £1 each, to keep safe or to multiply for The Tumaini Fund (supporting AIDS widows and orphans in Tanzania). I have never seen children so enthusiastic or excited about what they are doing, nor so confident in explaining to others. Every break time sees a room full of excited children, looking at the cakes and crafts for sale, negotiating, spending their money.
One of the boys keeps forgetting to bring his money. One day, his friend bought him a cake. Sharing. Kindness. Helpfulness.
It makes it all so worthwhile. I love my job.
Take the school inspection. It was a LOT of work to get ready for it. And I mean a lot. The week before, I stayed at school until gone 7 for two of the evenings – only leaving because I had another meeting to go to. It wasn’t HARD work, just time-consuming as we tidied up in all areas: making sure the classrooms were as neat and tidy as possibly, tidying up the children’s work, tidying up our planning and paperwork, tidying our desks, tidying our minds. I guess I was tidied out by the time the inspectors arrived, and the time they were here wasn’t at all stressful. Just busy and a little tense. It was a gift every time I taught an unobserved lesson – and the children benefited. My teaching is twice as good when there is no one looking – or, I should say, only half good enough when someone is. And, in the end, I was only observed three or four times in two days, so not bad really.
So that was that.
Another major excitement was the tadpoles. Joseph brought in some quite mature tadpoles in an ice cream box, the same day I tried again with another batch of frogspawn. I’ve managed to put the photos onto a powerpoint presentation and run it every morning for the children to see their progress. Plus, of course, the little crowd that peers in at the little wrigglers several times a day.
Then there are the willow shoots in a vase, sending out roots under water.
It’s all quite fascinating. “Mrs P, why have you got tadpoles on your desk?” asked one child. “And why have you got twigs?”
“For fun,” I replied.
“For fun?” was the puzzled answer. “Just for fun?”
“Of course. The fun of watching things grow. Just watch how these roots are going!”
But the main excitement has been the multiplying of the talents. I’ve talked about it over at Words From God For Today, where I’ve given all the boys in the year £1 each, to keep safe or to multiply for The Tumaini Fund (supporting AIDS widows and orphans in Tanzania). I have never seen children so enthusiastic or excited about what they are doing, nor so confident in explaining to others. Every break time sees a room full of excited children, looking at the cakes and crafts for sale, negotiating, spending their money.
One of the boys keeps forgetting to bring his money. One day, his friend bought him a cake. Sharing. Kindness. Helpfulness.
It makes it all so worthwhile. I love my job.
Sunday 15 March 2009
Tadpoles
Oh dear. Tadpoles are no more. Several of them hatched out at school, but then the tank started to get mucky. And scummy. And stinky.
I called in school wildlife expert Joseph, aged 9. 'They need pond weed,' he pronounced, a slight frown on his face as he stared at the tank. 'I'll bring some tomorrow.' He did. Things didn't improve.
I called him in again. 'Two thirds of the water needs changing,' he asserted, the frown now deeper. He and a friend duly did this, using water from the school pond. Then we noticed the leech.
It wasn't until I had successfully trapped the leech, releasing it back into the pond, that I realised how truly smelly the water was. I had to wash my hands several times with soap to get rid of the smell.
So we emptied the contents of the tank back into the pond. The leech was happy.
No more tadpoles.
However, I did notice more frogspawn in our pond at home...
I called in school wildlife expert Joseph, aged 9. 'They need pond weed,' he pronounced, a slight frown on his face as he stared at the tank. 'I'll bring some tomorrow.' He did. Things didn't improve.
I called him in again. 'Two thirds of the water needs changing,' he asserted, the frown now deeper. He and a friend duly did this, using water from the school pond. Then we noticed the leech.
It wasn't until I had successfully trapped the leech, releasing it back into the pond, that I realised how truly smelly the water was. I had to wash my hands several times with soap to get rid of the smell.
So we emptied the contents of the tank back into the pond. The leech was happy.
No more tadpoles.
However, I did notice more frogspawn in our pond at home...
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Stress - what stress?
I haven't been at all stressed by our school inspection - well, not much. I felt quite calm, not realising how stressed I actually was until I couldn't get my car started on Monday morning.
I sat there, seat belt on, unable to move the vehicle an inch.
Nearly late for school.
Thinking hard, I unclipped my seat belt, got out, went back into the house... and collected the car keys.
No problem after that!
I sat there, seat belt on, unable to move the vehicle an inch.
Nearly late for school.
Thinking hard, I unclipped my seat belt, got out, went back into the house... and collected the car keys.
No problem after that!
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Just a little thought...
Just a little post - most of my writing is on Words from God for today, a blog I started for Lent on the back of some daily reflections which friends are allowing me to email to them. (That way, I'm accountable to them: I can't let a day slip by without doing SOMETHING!).
Anyway, this little post is to talk about my tadpoles. Hundreds of them, hopefully. They're all at frogspawn stage at the moment, sitting in a glass tank on my desk at school.
Fascinating.
Every morning a small crowd of boys gathers round to examine their progress. We saw one hatch yesterday - a tadpole, I mean, not a boy. It wriggled around until he popped out of his sack of jelly. I guess it was a he?
I can't keep my eyes off the little creatures. I keep peering into the tank, searching out the 'wrigglers'.
The boys think the frogspawn is cute - but not that cute. They also think I'm mad. (Yes, it's true, I've heard the whispers as they watch me gazing at the lumps of wet jelly.)
Never mind.
Anyway, this little post is to talk about my tadpoles. Hundreds of them, hopefully. They're all at frogspawn stage at the moment, sitting in a glass tank on my desk at school.
Fascinating.
Every morning a small crowd of boys gathers round to examine their progress. We saw one hatch yesterday - a tadpole, I mean, not a boy. It wriggled around until he popped out of his sack of jelly. I guess it was a he?
I can't keep my eyes off the little creatures. I keep peering into the tank, searching out the 'wrigglers'.
The boys think the frogspawn is cute - but not that cute. They also think I'm mad. (Yes, it's true, I've heard the whispers as they watch me gazing at the lumps of wet jelly.)
Never mind.
Thursday 26 February 2009
Back Home
Half term has been - and gone. It was interesting.
It was interesting because we went away on holiday. And what interests me is that it really WAS a holiday. Usually, although I like travelling and love seeing new places, it is a major mental effort to get myself onto a plane. Given the choice, I'd just as happily stay at home. After all, Guernsey is a holiday destination: sun, beaches, cliff walks, quaint corners to explore... and, even if I don't go out, I can always find something creative to do here - even if it is just to write this blog!
This week was different.
Different because I didn't stress about travelling. Leaving home is never certain: planes 'go tech', fog closes the airport down, rough seas mean that fast ferries are cancelled. This time, I had no concerns at all that I might not be able to make my connection. An answered prayer: because "who of you by worrying can add a single hour to her life?", let alone worry about making a flight connection.
Different because, once we arrived at our destination, I was able to wind down straight away. I immediately adapted to a more leisurely pace of life, more exercise than I had done in a while, and managed to lay aside all the pressures of school. I still pondered over different issues, but with a sense of peace and purpose, gaining a sense of calm as I mulled over problems and arrived at sensible solutions.
Different because it was ALL completely relaxing. No worries. Just laid back fun.
Thanks, Lord!
It was interesting because we went away on holiday. And what interests me is that it really WAS a holiday. Usually, although I like travelling and love seeing new places, it is a major mental effort to get myself onto a plane. Given the choice, I'd just as happily stay at home. After all, Guernsey is a holiday destination: sun, beaches, cliff walks, quaint corners to explore... and, even if I don't go out, I can always find something creative to do here - even if it is just to write this blog!
This week was different.
Different because I didn't stress about travelling. Leaving home is never certain: planes 'go tech', fog closes the airport down, rough seas mean that fast ferries are cancelled. This time, I had no concerns at all that I might not be able to make my connection. An answered prayer: because "who of you by worrying can add a single hour to her life?", let alone worry about making a flight connection.
Different because, once we arrived at our destination, I was able to wind down straight away. I immediately adapted to a more leisurely pace of life, more exercise than I had done in a while, and managed to lay aside all the pressures of school. I still pondered over different issues, but with a sense of peace and purpose, gaining a sense of calm as I mulled over problems and arrived at sensible solutions.
Different because it was ALL completely relaxing. No worries. Just laid back fun.
Thanks, Lord!
Saturday 14 February 2009
Gifts of Time
I had an unexpected gift of time this morning. We are off on holiday to Lanzarote - easier said than done. We have no easy drive or train ride to the airport: instead, we have to hop over to Gatwick from Guernsey and then check in for the flight to Arrecife.
If there are no delays we should make it. No fog, no technical problems on the aircraft, no air traffic hold-ups, no closure of the airport because the firefighters have gone off sick - again.
Travelling from our tiny island is, in many ways, as uncertain in travelling in Africa. Except that I do not fear for my life - only that I can never be sure of the time I will leave, or the time I will arrive.
This morning, we decided to try to get on the earlier flight to make sure we WOULD have plenty of time. Up at 5. Showered and breakfasted. Out to the airport. Then back home again - the flight was too full and our booking was in any case for the second flight of the day.
We were home before 7.
So now I have this unexpected gift of time which I would have spent waiting around at Gatwick. It has been wonderful.
I have skyped Catharine - up, today, as early as us.
I have caught up on friends' blogs.
I have checked my writing blog.
I have enjoyed a leisurely cappuchino.
I have thought about this precious commodity - time - and thanked God for these hours and minutes. I long to fill my thoughts with his goodness during all the time he gives me, not just now. Or then.
If there are no delays we should make it. No fog, no technical problems on the aircraft, no air traffic hold-ups, no closure of the airport because the firefighters have gone off sick - again.
Travelling from our tiny island is, in many ways, as uncertain in travelling in Africa. Except that I do not fear for my life - only that I can never be sure of the time I will leave, or the time I will arrive.
This morning, we decided to try to get on the earlier flight to make sure we WOULD have plenty of time. Up at 5. Showered and breakfasted. Out to the airport. Then back home again - the flight was too full and our booking was in any case for the second flight of the day.
We were home before 7.
So now I have this unexpected gift of time which I would have spent waiting around at Gatwick. It has been wonderful.
I have skyped Catharine - up, today, as early as us.
I have caught up on friends' blogs.
I have checked my writing blog.
I have enjoyed a leisurely cappuchino.
I have thought about this precious commodity - time - and thanked God for these hours and minutes. I long to fill my thoughts with his goodness during all the time he gives me, not just now. Or then.
Friday 13 February 2009
Appreciation corner
I'm so thankful for so many things this week.
Thankful for my friend Sarah, carving out a precious slot of time for us to meet, drink tea, catch up and pray.
Thankful for Jonny and Cat at the end of the skype line, beavering away at their studies while running a hectic social life.
Thankful for a husband who has vacuumed the house and cleared the kitchen until it is literally sparkling.
Thankful for my little School Council boys: all 20 of them wove and wriggled their way among 60 septuagenarians who had gathered for our 60th birthday celebration at school. Like little moles, the boys burrowed between adults who were totally absorbed in the delights of rediscovery and reminiscence, serving them birthday cake. They even managed to serve the ladies first - a gesture which did not go unnoticed.
Thankful for the prospect of rest over half term.
Thankful even for a long journey ahead of us tomorrow - thankful that we have the opportunity to do this.
Thankful for a church which gathers round those who are sick or in crisis.
And, above all, thankful for our God who listens to and cares for us... a 'thank' which is only the beginning of a multitude of thanks...
Thankful for my friend Sarah, carving out a precious slot of time for us to meet, drink tea, catch up and pray.
Thankful for Jonny and Cat at the end of the skype line, beavering away at their studies while running a hectic social life.
Thankful for a husband who has vacuumed the house and cleared the kitchen until it is literally sparkling.
Thankful for my little School Council boys: all 20 of them wove and wriggled their way among 60 septuagenarians who had gathered for our 60th birthday celebration at school. Like little moles, the boys burrowed between adults who were totally absorbed in the delights of rediscovery and reminiscence, serving them birthday cake. They even managed to serve the ladies first - a gesture which did not go unnoticed.
Thankful for the prospect of rest over half term.
Thankful even for a long journey ahead of us tomorrow - thankful that we have the opportunity to do this.
Thankful for a church which gathers round those who are sick or in crisis.
And, above all, thankful for our God who listens to and cares for us... a 'thank' which is only the beginning of a multitude of thanks...
Tuesday 10 February 2009
Bone weary and I want to go home
9 o'clock in the morning. A free period and so, because I am not actually teaching, weariness has caught me up. It was a frenetic day yesterday - parents' evenings, then out at a women's meeting: by the time I got home at 10.30 I was too tired to get to sleep.
But parents' evenings are always such fun. I really love talking about the children I teach with their parents, as we mull over their strengths and foibles, working out ways to best realise their potential. Last night was no exception, save that I found myself having to wipe tears of laughter away as I listened to the antics and responses in one family. Huge fun.
As for what is happening in school today - Happy Birthday Beechwood! It was 60 years today that you moved into this site on Queen's Road. 2 buildings, fields and astro turf later and you are home to 137 children.
Celebrations today - music, singing and birthday cake!
But parents' evenings are always such fun. I really love talking about the children I teach with their parents, as we mull over their strengths and foibles, working out ways to best realise their potential. Last night was no exception, save that I found myself having to wipe tears of laughter away as I listened to the antics and responses in one family. Huge fun.
As for what is happening in school today - Happy Birthday Beechwood! It was 60 years today that you moved into this site on Queen's Road. 2 buildings, fields and astro turf later and you are home to 137 children.
Celebrations today - music, singing and birthday cake!
Monday 9 February 2009
At school
Phew - what a day! Rain, with gales building. Kids inside ALL DAY. Surprisingly good, and there has been a lot of disruption today with rehearsals for our 60 years' celebration tomorrow and talks about the Guernsey Youth Games (equivalent of mini Olympics for Years 5 and 6).
Meanwhile, my husband is having a day off at home with the Hairy Hot Water Bottle. Cosy.
Meanwhile, my husband is having a day off at home with the Hairy Hot Water Bottle. Cosy.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
Snowy days forever!
Still snowy, so no school again today. We were to have had a theatre performance and should have been halfway through the NFER tests (annual assessments which help us assess our children against national norms).
It is rather strange, but I find myself getting twitchy at the idea of the children 'missing out' on their education. Maybe I am more grown up than I think...?
On the other hand, I shouldn't forget how I danced around the kitchen in jubilation yesterday when the news of another day's school closure was announced. The kids couldn't have been more excited than I was.
It is rather strange, but I find myself getting twitchy at the idea of the children 'missing out' on their education. Maybe I am more grown up than I think...?
On the other hand, I shouldn't forget how I danced around the kitchen in jubilation yesterday when the news of another day's school closure was announced. The kids couldn't have been more excited than I was.
Monday 2 February 2009
Colder...
Snow snow snow snow snow! Woke up this morning to a white wilderness. SOOO exciting - and an unexpected gift of time! No school today so, after taking the dog out to experience white coldness, making a few snowballs and building the obligatory snowman, I will be able to catch up on a mountain of paperwork.
Phew - I might begin to feel human again, rather than a teacher. Not that my pupils will necessarily notice the difference...
Phew - I might begin to feel human again, rather than a teacher. Not that my pupils will necessarily notice the difference...
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