Family

Having family far away - i.e. NOT IN THE SAME HOUSE - is always a sorrow.

Not mega, just, mostly, a dull dull ache. A missing. A lacking. An emptiness. A feeling mixed with thankfulness and contentment and joy that our son and daughter are making independent ways in life, spreading wings, soaring with God into the world.

A son who is a marvellous, caring, fun-filled and outstanding teacher. A kind, loyal friend with an outrageous sense of mischief.. A strong, respected, dedicated man of God.  He probably wouldn't be too pleased at this description. It is 'showing-off'. Of course it is.

A daughter who works for a charity that helps the poor, who has so much fun and fulfilment in doing so, who constantly looks for other ways of being engaged with God's people. This little chick has flown happily to the other side of the world to do so.

A daughter-in-love whose family have become our family and friends, who is beautiful and gentle and loving and creative. Also a teacher, also adored.

Another 'adopted' daughter, the daughter's bestie, who I love as my own.

Gorgeous girls, the two of them.

 I miss them all. I live a busy, fulfilled life; enjoy a happy marriage; love my friends; but I MISS THEM.

(My finger slipped, very appositely, onto the Caps Lock key.)

And yet, as George Eliot says, "In every parting there is an image of death." Indeed. But death is only a temporary separation in time and place... In the partings, I rejoice in knowing that we are still connected in our Lord; still working together for his kingdom; still thankful for these wonderful, wonderful people.

And looking forward to the next reunion. Mags, I'm longing to hear, first-hand, all about your trip to New Zealand to see Cat.

Crazy in love

The Boy and Dear Daughter-in-Love have just left after a week. Their first Christmas together, and they chose to spend it with us.

#feelingloved #veryhonoured.

A wonderful time. Relaxed, chilled and a deep sense of peace.
Celebrating Christ's birth in song and services and shared meals.
Giving, laughing, living.

(With just a little grieving over Dear Daughter's absence in New Zealand. We thank God for Skype and for dear friends there who substitute family for family and give her love and laughter too.)

And now they are gone. The house feels actively calm, as if rooms are springing back into their own emptier shapes now that there are only two of us here. I sense the carpets breathing again, the furniture settling back to normal living. I can hear the dishwasher working in the silence.

The dog gazes out of the window, hoping for their return.

The Swedish tomte on the window sill know better. My heart echoes their woodenness.

And the Father?
The Father, after we have said our goodbyes at airport departures, suggests we have a coffee in the airport runway viewing lounge.
The Father leaps to his feet as they walk out towards the aeroplane, waving a last goodbye.
The Father drives us home for one last look for waves to tell the Boy, the Surfer, about.
The Father goes online to track their flight. He tells me the time they have taken off. He tells me that they haven't yet landed at their intermediate destination. (The Other Channel Island, the name of which cannot be mentioned here.) He shows me where they are as they fly across the English Channel. He wonders why they have to circle the airport before they land.

He is crazy over them.

And as we reenter normal existence, where we live our lives, they live theirs and sometimes we are able to share through emails and Skype calls and occasional texts, I am reminded of how our Father in Heaven, too, is crazy over us. So crazy in love that he knows what we are doing every moment of the day.

He has looked deep into our hearts, and he knows all about us.
He knows when we are resting and when we are working.
Even from a distance, he knows what we are thinking.

He notices everything we do and everywhere we go.
Before we even speak, he knows what we will say.
He protects us on every side.
There is absolutely no escaping from Him and His love.
Nothing about us is hidden from Him!
Even before we were born, he knew everything we would do.

Our Father in Heaven doesn't need flightradar.com to track us. But He is crazy in love, too. And he loves The Boy and Dear Daughter-in-Love and Dear Daughter even more than we - and the dog - do.

End of year greetings...

2nd January has rushed upon me.  Christmas seems such a distant memory, the arrival of 2013 somewhat horrifying.  Time is a mystery.

Back in December I had meant to put on our yearly roundup of news.  Trying to get the balance between (too) brief and (very) boring, i.e. in lengthy and unnecessary detail. Here goes... 

"Woohoo - time for a yearly roundup again! Looking forward to hearing your news, but meanwhile...Pollards' “life at the movies"...

During 2012 we attended Four Weddings and a Funeral: as we enter the season of our friends' and relatives' children embarking on marriage, Angie's mother, aged 88, died in October: she slipped gradually away, gently and peacefully.

The Princess Bride is a story of true love: Cat was a stunning bridesmaid to her school friend Hannah. It was a beautiful Guernsey wedding: gorgeous weather, great fun.

Then there was Love, Actually...yep, Jonny. And the gorgeous Adele. Both of them in Norwich. Lovely to have her visit this year, and we were able to meet her parents while they were on holiday on The Other Island. (Jersey).

In New Zealand, Cat has explored the film locations of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, in between working for Christians Against Poverty. She's popped up occasionally in CAP's own film clips, too.

And for those of you who have come across the wonderful British film Nativity, which features a creative and charismatic teaching assistant- yes, Jonny is presently working as a TA in a primary school.

Richard continues to appear in his own version of Airplane, happily back at work since time off for illness. Fit and healthy as long as he avoids eating wheat products. He is still surfing the waves... (just don't mention Jaws).

Angie is still teaching: at various times she feels as if she could be on the set of Harry Potter /Shrek/High School Musical/St Trinians/. Still enjoying inhabiting the quirky world of children, who manage to make her snigger several times a week. As for The Social Network, our Bible study with a group of friends is a weekly highlight. Angie meets with a group of friends for a regular breakfast slot - not exactly Calendar Girls, but close - some of whom are part of an online Bible study too: the joys of Facebook!

And, of course, through the year it has been great to meet up with friends from near and far, present and long-distant...over twenty years in some cases. We love sharing our home and sharing Guernsey, so please come and see us!

Must Love Dogs. Pickle lives up to her name, quite happy starring in her own dramas at home: adaptations of In Golden Pond; Eat, Chew, Love or The Great Escape.

We spent the hottest weekend of the Summer Holiday camping on Jersey. Then, in October, we enjoyed the warmth of Lanzarote - its stunning volcanic landscape a superb setting for various sci-fi movies.

As for Christmas: It's a wonderful life - Cat and Jonny both came home for a Christmas visit."

August!

I sat down to recount August's exploits on 2nd September - the day after Cat left to go back to New Zealand - and found I could only write this instead...

August began slowly and then galloped when first Jonny, then Cat, came home for visits. We were blessed with Adele as well, and her parents for a brief visit, too.

C and J spent some time getting to know Pickle...

...and Mags arrived:

A trip to Rousse for coffee and a beach walk...

 Giant fennel!  Love it!

Fun in the kitchen...

 A visit to Vale Castle to see Oddsocks perform Julius Caesar...

January, this was you...

On the back of our yearly Christmas update, I started to think about this coming year's - 2012.
I wondered what the year would bring.
I wondered if I would remember the things I wanted to talk about: the funny, the sad, the tragic, the happy...
I wondered if I could even remember what had happened in the previous month.

One of the best 'round robins' we had this year was from friends we had seen in the summer. So yes, we had a good idea of what had been happening in their lives. But their letter was fun. Fun because:
1. It was written on one side of A4.
2. There were a few photos - enough, but not too many.
3. Their year was divided up into months, with one. or two sentences talking about the highlights.
Good idea, I thought.

So here is January. Out of this, I hope to distil one accurate, perhaps pithy, sentence. Well, I can always hope....

January A month of beginnings and endings.
First, the end of the Christmas holidays. Jonny, home for Christmas, went back to Norwich. We miss him. He is an exuberant, lively presence. The dog misses him, too.
We went to a wedding in England. Always a bit of a mission, getting to something like that which involves a flight before we even begin a drive anywhere.  Worth it, though - it was a joyous, Christ-centered, happy occasion full of lovely people. And of course, the bride, the daughter of ex- Kenya friends, was radiant. She really was.
Richard finally heard news from the CAA that he could reapply for his medical. When he did so, the doctor proclaimed him as fit as a much younger person would be. He begins work at the end of February. Praise the Lord!
The school term started at a gallop, cantering at an ever-increasing pace towards half term next week. (Phew.)
The dog was spayed. We had a few sleep-deprived nights as she recovered from the operation. Sore.
Cat came home from New Zealand, via Bradford and Norwich. What a joy to have her with us for a week. And what a bittersweet goodbye, as a heavy sadness hung on my heart, even though I rejoice that she is happy there doing a satisfying job in a culture offering all kinds of unique, fun opportunities.
I began an online Bible study on Ephesans...After two weeks, I've reached as far as Chapter 2...
And finally, this week, came the news of the end of a life. An old family friend - well into his eighties, but the news was still a shock - had died suddenly, and tragically. He collapsed while making a speech at his granddaughter's wedding. For him, it was a wonderfully rapid exit to be with Jesus, but the shock for his family was, of course, immense. Richard had known him and his wife for over 50 years...
A  strange ending to the month which began the year.

Leavings...

Having lived a slightly nomadic life (compared to many friends and acquaintances on this tiny island, some of whom have barely budged) over the last four decades, 'leaving' has been a large feature in my life.
Although it has often been me doing the leaving, more frequently it has been friends and family moving on.
I never manage 'leaving' very well, but I'm beginning to get the hang of it now. It's taken a while.
So, successful farewells are characterised by busyness. Packing, tying up loose ends, zooming around so there is no time for moping either before, or after.
This time, Jonny left to go back to Norwich, after a long weekend camping with us in France.

Big sky, tall surfer

Cat, Richard, Jonny

Enjoying the ambience in the evening...

Packing up the tent proved to be quite a distraction.

A luxury home from home...

I didn't much like the car journey to the airport, though...
Then, a few days later, Cat left us.
For New Zealand.
So we - she - organised a tea party to say goodbye.

Martyn didn't particularly enjoy tea from a tea CUP...he traded it in for a large mug

Dear Sarah

Dearest Renee

Tea party = chocolate cake. And smiles.

She flew off the next morning.













So we organised a barbecue lunch.  18 of us. Cooking and eating and laughing and talking - not to mention the clearing up afterwards - kept us busy and the tears at bay.

Then we tracked her flight on the internet, watching tiny planes fly across the screen en route to Dubai...and Australia...and further on...

A random half term break...

Saturday evening. One more day, then back to school. It's been a random week.

The families I work with go to Mauritius, Barbados, Egypt, Morocco or EuroDisney for their half term holidays. (Skiing in February, of course.) 
I whizz around between here and the UK.

Latest trip was Norwich, to see Jonny. He came down with flu the day we got there, poor thing. Still, we had a good evening together, then whizzed off the next morning to get the plane back here, calling in on a set of godparents on the way. Really good to see them: "We would have been good friends if we'd lived closer," said Kim, some years ago. She was wrong. We have never lived close but we are still good friends. Their friendship is valuable and precious.

Mother that I am, I spent a couple of days praying hard and hoping to hear that Jonny was better. It was a doddle when they were toddlers - there seems more to 'worry' over as they get older... Thankfully, he is on the mend now.

Inbetween the visits to the UK we caught up with household tidying and gardening; took the kayak out on a glassy calm, sunny afternoon, creeping through tiny inlets in the rocks as seaweed undulated gently beneath us. Went surfing. Enjoyed 'down' time.

Today, I have spent a day at New Wine Women Guernsey. Ellie Mumford spoke to us. What refreshment!

How a week becomes less sad...

I wrote recently about the intermingling of happiness and sadness in our lives. I've just realised how things change.

We're still sad that our friends have left us. Yet, in the last couple of weeks, we've had a special visit from old friends, celebrating 25 years of friendship. We've spent time with precious new friends. And I discovered that a colleague at school is a believer!

We're still sad when we remember Mpira. Yet the baby rabbit who has 'grown up' in our garden since he left is now so tame that he doesn't stir when we walk past him. Or her. Who knows?

We're still sad that the 'kids' are not here with us. Yet when we hear that one is so loving her job, so excited about working that she happily puts in an 11 hour day, we cannot help but smile. And when I read in an email that the other has the part-time job he needs, in a coffee shop where the customers will be hugely blessed by his infectious smiles and jaunty cheerfulness, I squeak with joy. So glad to see how God is making ways smoother for him.

And yes, there is - will always be - an element of sadness that autumn is approaching. Meanwhile, we enjoy a wonderful indian summer, so warm we sit outside in the evening under a full moon. So warm that it is easy to swim in the cold sea, or cycle home late in the dark. The air breathes.

Sadness. And happiness. And, even, joy.

How can a week be so sad when there is so much to be happy about?

I know life is full of contrasts, but sometimes they seem so mixed up with each other I don't know whether to laugh or cry. So end up doing neither, which weighs heavily on me.

Sadness.
Farewell to dear friends, leaving our tiny town for a distant continent.
Happiness.
Thankful that we know them. A dream of visiting one day. Anticipation of long chats on skype.

Sadness.

Remembrance of our dog, now several months deceased, his absence still a pain in our hearts.

Happiness

as we watch the rabbits playing around his grave.

Sadness
Leave-taking of beloved 'children'. Those two special adults who live with us in our house during high days and holidays.
Happiness
That they have listened to God's call on their lives, seeking to live out Isaiah 61:
the Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, 
because the LORD has anointed me 
to preach good news to the poor. 
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, 
to proclaim freedom for the captives 
and release from darkness for the prisoners, 

to proclaim the year of the LORD's favour... 


Sadness

that the summer is going as we return to school

Happiness

thankful that the weather has been wonderfully warm and sunny and that I am returning to a job I love.

Sadness and happiness. Intertwined, indistinguishable. 

Christians Against Poverty

Cat leaves on Saturday, to live in Bradford. (We'll go over with her as she will be having a very minor op THE DAY BEFORE.  Cat lives by my friend Karyn's philosophy: 'There's always time for one more thing.')
She is going to work as an intern for a year with Christians Against Poverty. She'll have an allowance which will allow her to subsist, but no more. She'll be learning how to live within her means without getting into debt. (She has never gone into debt, but her hard work during the uni vacations has meant she has had enough money to get quite comfortably through her degree course.) It will be an exciting and challenging year.

Christians Against Poverty (CAP) is an  international debt-counselling charity. Cat will be working in the department which puts on events, conferences, training opportunities - just what she is passionate about. The charity has come top of the The Times newspaper's Best Small Companies to work for - more than once. So great experience.

Climbing the ladder in the finance industry - and industry it certainly is - was never her aim. Had it been, she would have stayed here on Guernsey. But we have to let her go...

And Jonny returns to Norwich the day after tomorrow. To spend a year with his church as an intern, working with the youth and the homeless. He, too, forswears the lure of riches and an easy life. He is an incredible blessing...

Holidays

Holidays are interesting. As a teacher, I have LOTS of them.  I only work 9 - 3.30 and then have a total of 16 weeks paid holiday every year. 

Huh. That's not precisely true. I actually work from 8 - 5 in school, then some when I get home. Often at weekends, too. My lunch 'hour' (50 minutes) is usually half filled with duties or extra-curricular clubs.

But I DO have 16 weeks when I'm not in school. The other 36 are so intense that I literally spin on the spot at times, like some robotic automaton in a factory on top speed. I amaze myself with the amount of work I achieve. Often, sleep suffers. 16 weeks is only just enough catch up time...

So holidays are breaks from work. They are 'catch-up' time.
Catch-up on school work - planning, preparation, research.
Catch-up on home work.tidying, cleaning, sorting.
Catch-up on friendships: time for coffee, meals, barbecues on the beach.
Catch-up on life.

But holidays are also full of change. 
Change of scenery,as we go away.  This year was a riotous week on a boat in France. We ambled slowly down a beautiful river, drinking in the beautiful views, swimming in clear, warm water, visiting impossibly picturesque villages, enjoying the quiet of sleepy streets on sunny afternoons, laughing as we jumped, dived or swung off ropes into the water. Praising God for music and beauty and friends.

Change of atmosphere at home. Two grown 'children' who go diligently to boring jobs throughout hot summer days so that they can save up enough money to support themselves in full-time Christian work. I am learning how to be a mother all over again. It seems just as difficult this time round: mothering, nurturing, supporting...adults.

Visitors, too.  Family staying, almost three generations as my nephews are aged only 2 and 6, young enough to be my grandchildren. In theory. The change in the house seemed radical: far from expanding to accommodate 4 more people and many toys, the very building seemed to shrink on itself. Once they had left, the house relaxed with a sigh, stretching weary walls towards the garden.

And parties. Two LARGE ones. Washing up and clearing up took only a day, but it seemed like a year.

And I changed. I changed from being a dedicated, focused, intensely hard-working career teacher who can't often be bothered with cooking and cleaning, to a nurturing home maker who looked for opportunities to bake and cook and share and welcome.

That was a GOOD change. I needed this holiday.

Graduation!

July was a busy busy month...we even braved the boat to travel to UK.  The boat was fine - met up with my friend Sarah, also going over with her girls - but the traffic was another story.  Traffic jam to setting point on every journey.  Still, we survived.  And it was worth it.

J and C's graduation. Fortunately, on the same day.  It was a moving occasion as hundreds of youngsters celebrated their achievement. (We hadn't realised how fortunate, also, that they had gone to the same uni: we could have been faced with two graduations on the same day in different parts of the country.)  We are so proud of our son and daughter: not just for achieving good degrees, but for who they are...a man and woman after God's own heart. Blessed.