School teaching thank yous

Lanzarote refreshment

Balm for my soul,
nautical twilight
gently suffuses the horizon.
stars creep
from long-forgotten hiding places
doting on the arid land.

and I remember
a long ago journey
through a desert deserted place.
a young mother, a dreaming father, a trusting babe.

Along the skyline, one by one by one,
crawl camels and goats.
A dog barks lonely in the distance.

Hibiscus, bougainvillea, euphorbia, mimosa, cactus...
grow, without soil, out of the black picon,
those astonishing dark particles of rock
attracting moisture,
sharing generously
under cover of darkness,
nourishing life with water.

Centuries ago
an olive tree began to grow,
leaning away
from a harsh prevailing wind.

A froth of surf
lacily fringes an azurely turquoise sea
caressing a golden beach.

Volcanic mounds
scatter a landscape patterned
with terraced gardens and vineyards.

Coming with peace, twilight
beckons with mysterious fingers,
hands full of promise.

This seemingly barren landscape
loves me with possibilities.
My soul rests, rejoicing.

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."

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...

Funerals, Loss, Parting

I'm off to a funeral in the morning. My Uncle Frank, the husband of my beloved Aunt Marion.

I find myself full of regret.

Regret that there wasn't enough time with them both. We never lived near one another - the nearest was the hundred odd miles which separated our homes as I grew up, which then turned to a thousand miles as I lived in Europe and then multiplied by four when I lived in Africa.

We would meet at the odd family occasion. Sometimes we would visit them. One holiday they spent with us, on safari.

It was always a delight to be with them. To have long conversations, to hear about their lives, their romance with one another. There was never enough time.

Yet, looking back, I do not know what I could have changed. We enjoyed the times we had together, however brief. We valued the letters, the phone calls. I treasure the recipe book, now over full and battered, which my aunt gave me on my twenty first birthday.

And I treasure their memories.

Christmas, and other things

Christmas is almost upon us, and my heart is full.
Full of thanksgiving for all the friends who have, once again, got in touch.
Full of joy on hearing of rich, fulfilled, happy lives.
Full of sorrow of hearing of others' pain: illness, bereavement, disappointment, struggles.
Full of the sheer happiness of this season.

I mustn't take it all for granted.

last days

The last days of term have been and gone. Filled with carols and cards, laughter and lilting songs... The children contained their excitement as they dutifully performed in the carol service before the blessed relief of the last morning when they were allowed to just play games.

My class sang outstandingly well, behaved beautifully and made it a fun time for me as well. Then there were the little presents and cards, so thoughtfully done.
You can see the effort that has gone into a card and that means more than anything. This class give me so much, they are a delight.

The school is closed, but I am still working: preparing for next term already. We have inspectors coming in, but that is another story...

2 sleeps, 5 sleeps

Cat comes home on Friday afternoon, Jonny on Monday. I can't wait!

Both begin work next week so hopefully they will have a few days at least of wind-down before they start. They return to the same place every time: both companies they work for are delighted to have them back again. Jonny even has a bursary to help towards his uni costs.

God has been so faithful to them both.

Herm

The weather was fantastic at the weekend. Sunday dawned pink, clearing the way for a brilliant blue sky and dazzling sunshine. Oh so cliched, oh so true.

We bunked off church in the morning, and took the boat over to Herm. 20 minutes over the water and you're in another world. No cars, no hurry, no bustle. Just a mile or so of gentle hills, rabbit-cropped turf and sandy beaches.

We walked up from the harbour, passing the two pubs, the hotel, handful of holiday cottages and the tiny church. Every Sunday the owner holds a short service in this ancient chapel, so lovingly cared for with polished pews and fresh flowers.
Over the other side of the hill, Belvoir Bay nestles at the bottom of a valley. Shells the size of a pinhead scattered the shore at our feet. We drank our coffee in a sheltered nook among the rocks, listening to the swell of the waves beating gently on the shore.

Paradise.

Walk to the beach

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

Fun

Wow - half term - what fun!

What fun it has been this half term in school.
I cannot express the joy God has given me with my class.
A restitution for last year's struggles.
A restoration of my soul and spirit.
I am immensely grateful.

The half term finished with an exciting announcement.
We grew 25 pumpkins in the school garden. The largest must have weighed over 10 kilos - it was very hefty.
It took three small boys to carry it.

So we ran a silent auction in aid of the Tumaini Fund, which supports destitute widows and orphans in a remote corner of Tanzania.
We raised - if everyone coughs up what they have promised - over £275!!!

So satisfying, that as we rejoice in our harvest we can share with those who had nothing to harvest themselves.

Our children were very excited as I announced the winners.

But the biggest surprise of all was when our Deputy Head thanked me for organising it.

The school gave me a huge clap and cheer.

Having been told by a parent in July that all the boys hate and fear me, rejoicing when I am not around, I can't express how much that meant to me.

Sad!

Busyness revisited

I haven't written on here for a while. Jonny came home, then it seemed we were on a helter-skelter of activity, rushing on and on from one day to the next.

The usual hectic getting Jonny off – but he’s now out in Tanzania, with his ‘brothers’ who he has known since before he – and they – were born. They’re planning a camel safari, setting off in a couple of days. It’s quiet here.

Meanwhile, school has kicked off big time. Reports to be done – hundreds of comments – with ten days notice; speech day prizes to be decided and organized; work to be finished off as activity week – and end of term – approaches; gardening club demanded weeding, planting and watering; appraisal time with the head…

Social functions added in meant that I was out almost every night last week. So busy I can’t remember what I was doing without looking at my diary!

Yet it was all GOOD. Good to celebrate the children’s achievements in their end of term reports; good to award prizes for outstanding effort, work and – best of all – progress; good to have fun and laughter with friends.

I am so grateful to God for all His goodness, even when I am so busy I hardly have time to draw breath. But now, in a spare few minutes, I can catch up. That’s good, too.

The Dottie

I tried to write on here this morning, when I had 1 hour and 27 minutes until 'the dottie's' arrival. (The 'dottie' is my daughter Cat, so named by my school's French caretaker who, after over thirty years in Guernsey, still speaks his own uniquely accented English. He needs a whole blog post all to himself. At least.) But my dear husband had started a scan on my computer – which took a couple of hours rather than the twenty minutes he had envisaged – and then the internet decided to go slow. Very slow. After it took several minutes just to load one page, I decided to abandon the attempt.

So, several hours later, and she is home. Exhausted: up most of the night travelling after going to the annual church ball, getting down to Gatwick by coach. Then, several cups of coffee later, the flight to Guernsey. Unpacking, then reorganising her room, took some time, as did more cups of coffee with homemade Guernsey gache, lunch, and catch up.

Now she is crashed out, asleep. The house is as quiet as if she was still away. But it is so good to have her back.

Cat and Jonny

"Parents are so useful," said my daughter Cat, when we were skyping a few days ago. "Really good to talk things over with." She was calling to discuss her complicated summer plans. She's fitting in work, going to two Christian summer conferences (one as a leader, one as a delegate), volunteering for Tearfund, visiting friends all over Britain and going on an activity holiday to Switzerland. (We almost dragged her off to Africa with us too, but that's another story.)

Balancing time, money, working out what's best for her and the friends she cares for and supports. She's incredibly giving, loving and generous.

So is Jonny, her twin brother. He finished his exams a couple of days ago, but he's not coming home until the beginning of June before he goes off to Tanzania to meet up with some of his best friends, Jesse and Trevor. They've known each other since before they were born. Are now continents apart. Still great friends.

So Jonny is hanging around, being a good friend as only he can. (Watch him in a group. He has identified the newcomers and come alongside them, befriending them and drawing them in, before you can blink.) And helping out at church. On a Sunday, he's up at 6am to help go and set up ready for the services. I am so proud of him and his servant heart.

I won't embarrass them any more. I could go on and on. I won't.

Precious messages

Remembering the good old days of letters, when I kept them by the trunkful. Then I made several major moves - to other countries, other continents - and I had to throw many away. The sorrow was mine alone - I am sure the senders had forgotten all about them long before.

Now my precious messages are by email, on the internet, in text messages to my mobile phone. The latter reminded me just now that the memory is 80% full - time to empty the inbox and sent items folders.

Yet there were a few I just couldn't bring myself to delete. Here they are - for my memory, really.

From Catharine: HAPPY mother's day! love us so much, ur such a special mum! Xxx Xxx big hug Xxx

From Jonny: HAPPY MOTHERS DAY! Love you very much. Have a card on my desk for you. Anyway see you in two weeks or so.

From Jonny: Hey nun am having a great might in church. I love you so much you are such a fantastic mum!

They won't read this, fortunately, so I'm not embarrassing them. (We do talk, so they don't need to keep up with me by reading my blog!). But it's all very special. Mothers, I suspect, rarely feel as if they are doing a good job - there are so many things to do wrong - and I'm a prime example of Muddle Through Mothering. It's amazing that Jonny and Cat have turned out the way they have, but that's another story...

Oh well - I can go empty the inbox now...

Back to work

I know I shouldn't be tired first thing on a Monday morning - but I am! The weekend was so busy that I feel I need a bit more of a rest!

Yet Saturday morning was great. Up early to grab a hired floor polisher and off to church. 50 of us gathered to spring clean. This hadn't been done for years, and in the meantime we had built an annexe - a church centre - on the side which had just been finished, so there was dust everywhere. The real heroes were the two youngsters who tackled the debris outside, collecting a bucketful of concrete bits before sluicing the cobblestones clean. Without them, the church would have been dirty again within minutes as the dirt was tracked in again.

We had great fun. Chatted to people we hadn't caught up with for ages, moved furniture, found dust in places no one had ever been before... and then afterwards stopped for coffee and cake.

We'd called it a Praise and Power (Cleaning) Party. Some of us gathered together in the quiet of the centre. It is a haven of peace, quiet and full of calm. The perfect place for reflection and prayer.

Quiet quiet quiet

J and C - aka the anklebiters - left to go back to uni on Sunday. (By the way, they used to be called anklebiters when they were still at baby crawling stage. I'm not quite sure why I'm referring to them like that again. Hmm, must think about that.)

There are pluses and minuses to their departure:

On the plus side:

1. The house is clean and relatively tidy. At least, it's only untidy with my untidiness, so that doesn't count.
2. The fridge stays well stocked.
3. The kitchen floor no longer suffers a daily sprinkling of crumbs.
4. There is always hot water when I want it.
5. The cupboards remain full of crockery and the dishwasher doesn't have to work twice a day.
6. I have a spare car to use .

On the minus side:

1. There is no loud singing in the shower. (Yes, that is a minus: not only does Jonny have a beautiful singing voice, he sings songs I like.)
2. Their smiling faces are absent from the dinner table.
3. There is no one to share a girly video with or mess around in the garden.
4. The house is too quiet.
5. The dog is somewhat miserable.
6. Our family is only half complete.

Above all, I just miss them. I'm so thankful for them and the opportunities they have, but I still miss them.

Renee

I can't remember if I have talked about my friend Renee before. I'm amazed if I haven't. Her name should be Blessing. When I grow up, I want to be JUST like her. (And if I look even half as elegant and pretty, that will be a bonus.)

She asked our family round to lunch a few weeks after we had arrived in Guernsey. We hadn't even met. Once we did, we all fell in love with her and count ourselves blessed to be her friends. If you can imagine the fruit of the Spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control - all rolled up to perfection in one person: well, that's Renee. Added to that, she has a wicked sense of humour and incredible energy. I just love her.

I've been off school for a couple of days getting over mild flu. Nothing serious, just tired. So Renee pops round. She's cleared out her freezer and popped into Marks and Spencer for fruit and other goodies on the way to our house, bent on making sure I don't wear myself out with cooking. Such kindness. I am completely humbled by her selflessness and thoughtfulness.

But the best thing was her visit, the gift of her time. The real treasure.

Arrivals

What a joy to trek out to the airport this afternoon.

Our little airport - a beautiful modern building, with a viewer friendly waiting area and well planned amenities - is the equivalent of the market place. It is virtually impossible to go there and not see a friendly face. I love it.

Of course, it makes a difference that Richard flies the Trislanders for Aurigny, the Guernsey airline. He takes folk over in tiny planes to the other Channel islands of Alderney and Jersey, to Southampton in England and Dinard in France. By now, I know many of the Aurigny staff - one of them is a schoolfriend of Cat and Jonny's, eyes set on becoming a pilot. He'll do it, too.

Yet there are always other people we know as well. Departing themselves, or meeting someone else. Today, there were many parents of the boys I teach: several of the lads had been over to the UK on sports tours for the weekend. I caught up with some of the boys in my class, hearing their excited news of victory, of some games lost, of great fun had.

Fun as this was, the most important was Catharine. Home to recuperate after an emergency appendectomy. The most welcome sight through the Arrivals door. Blissful to have her back for a few days. I am so thankful.

Weather wonders

What a difference the weather makes.

Yesterday we woke up to grey which quickly turned to rain. It seemed to rain most of the day. The sea still looked spectacular: white foam on a backdrop of greys.

Cycling home was interesting: I tend to whizz too fast, so had a 'skiddy moment' coming down one hill. Fortunately, I didn't panic and jam the brakes on even more but managed to control the bike without coming off it. (I didn't think my nose would be too impressed by a close encounter with wet tarmac.)

Today it is bright sunshine, sparkling sea, and the children I teach are in a much better mood. They're doing great work, creating a simple story book for younger children.

Some of the art work is outstandingly good.

It's great to feel so good about the weather, work, the world... Thank you Lord!