We live in a fragile world. A world of deteriorating environmental quality, a world of natural disasters and man-made tragedies. And in it, we all struggle to live our lives. Daily.
Some of us struggle less than others. Some of us have been born into Western world material comfort, though many have less 'comforts' than the wealthy few. Yet many more of those who live on the planet lack even the most essential of needs: adequate shelter; food - of some description, not necessarily, even, good food; clean water.
Many have lost fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, friends and neighbours. Many have suffered great personal tragedy.
Overwhelming.
Yet beauty can come out of ashes. Friends can be family. Kindness can overcome cruelty.
So I need to remember - we ALL need to remember, but I am responsible only for my own actions - how to behave kindly.
To praise and encourage and say kind words to gladden other people's hearts.
To give the benefit of the doubt.
To be gentle with pointing out errors. And that, only if absolutely necessary.
To forgive.
To apologize.
To say 'Thank you. I'm so glad you did that.'
And, also, to be all that to myself as well. Because we are ALL fragile.
I was inspired for this post by Deidra:
"I have three passages of scripture I use as my marching orders. They rest soundly and squarely atop John 3:16, because where would I be without For God so loved the world?
... The first passage of scripture is in the letter we call Ephesians:
The Messiah has made things up between us so that we’re now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.
...Jesus is in the business of tearing down the walls we build to keep us separated from each other. We build the walls. Not Christ.
...The second passage of scripture is Matthew 18:15, which says, “If a fellow believer hurts you, go and tell him—work it out between the two of you. If he listens, you’ve made a friend.”
...I believe Jesus knew we’d get on each other’s nerves, even in the Body of Christ. I believe he knew we’d see things differently and step on each others’ toes, and that we’d be tempted to let that cause a rift between us. I even believe Jesus knew how we’d tend to take to Facebook and Twitter before we’d walk a mile or so to stand in front of the person who ticked us off and try to work it out between us. Jesus knows the way we think and so He said to us, “Hey, when you get on each others’ nerves, go to that person—face-to-face—and try to figure things out.”
The third passage of scripture is this: “This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.” (John 13:35, MSG)
Church (as my pastor used to say), the world is watching us. Like it or not, it’s the truth. The world is watching us. And when we get it right, it’s our love for one another that the world finds attractive. It doesn’t matter what you’ve heard or read, but it’s not programs or numbers or followers or shares that make the world sit up and take notice about the things that matter for eternity. It’s not even miracles and signs and wonders. Jesus didn’t say they’d know we’re His disciples because of how much money we raise or how many books we’ve published. He said the world will know we’re His disciples because of our love for each other.
That’s something, isn’t it?
I have this crazy idea that if the Church—the Body of Christ—could figure this out and stop building walls and holding grudges and let the world see a new kind of extravagant love, we might actually be able to speak truth to power and let God set a table of grace, even in the presence of those who see things differently than we do.
...where is God inviting you to join him? It may not be as far as you think. What’s keeping you from saying yes to Him? What if God wants to grow that seed He’s planted in your heart and all you need to do is let Him do it?
Saturday, 20 September 2014
Saturday, 6 September 2014
30 years...a brief (very brief) summary
Yesterday was our thirtieth wedding anniversary. (I think. I get muddled up with these ordinal numbers, but I think that is right. In any case, we have been married for thirty years.)
THIRTY years! How did that happen?!
Thirty years of adventure. Not in a very great sense, in some ways, but perhaps we have seen more adventure and change than many of our peers who have spent all their lives in the UK.
In the last thirty years married to Richard, I have:
THIRTY years! How did that happen?!
Thirty years of adventure. Not in a very great sense, in some ways, but perhaps we have seen more adventure and change than many of our peers who have spent all their lives in the UK.
In the last thirty years married to Richard, I have:
- Given birth to twins. A boy and a girl. Now grown up. Wonderful people.
- Moved house several times. ( See footnote )
- Laughed. A lot. Cried some. Shared my heart.
- Moved continent and culture. Only one major adjustment; several minor ones.
- Travelled backwards and forwards between Africa and Europe, and across the globe.
- Lived in a tent. Twice. For several weeks at a time.
- Learned to study the Bible, joined Bible study groups and led Bible studies.
- Lived in a tin hut. Nine months, that one.
- Cooked over open fires, on antique wood-burning stoves and on a very elderly, running-off-a- gas-cylinder cooker.
- Lived in a wooden house - built from cedar from Mount Kenya.
- Made good friends from many different countries, most of whom are now, also, scattered across the globe.
- Lived in a bungalow, a large Victorian terrace, a modern house and several converted barns...
- Run a gliding club. Challenging.
- Run a golf club. Even more challenging.
- Flown, often, in aeroplanes, from huge jets to tiny two-seaters.
- Camped in remote parts of the African bush - and even, not so remotely, in Europe, too.
- Been chased by elephants.
- Listened to leopards and hyenas.
- Tracked animal footprints. Yes, even lions.
- Encountered snakes. Too many times.
- Bathed in hot water springs.
- Learned to drive on murram roads, in mud, and past corrupt policemen.
- Been robbed at home, at knife point.
- Written stories and, occasionally, published articles.
- Sailed, canoed and travelled by boat and barge on lakes, rivers and canals.
- Swum in the warm Indian ocean and the cold Atlantic.
- Enjoyed crafting and making cards.
- Taught many children.
- Become adept at using computer technology.
- Written a blog!
Each one tells a story of its own. And in the previous thirty years? That's another story altogether...
So, we celebrated. With friends. Afternoon tea, tapas lunch. Cake for my colleagues, chocolate for my pupils. And a special meal out...
Overwhelmed with blessing, kind thoughts, touching cards, gifts and beautiful flowers. #feelingloved
2.A list of some of the places we have lived in:
Lanet.
Njoro Country Club.
Mweiga Airfield
Aberdare Country Club.
2.A list of some of the places we have lived in:
Aberdare Country Club.
Kiganjo
Nairobi
Rugby.
Bailloterie.
4 Cabot.
Barnsfield.
Friday, 22 August 2014
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Camping. Glamping?
I have been camping - both on holiday and, occasionally, as a lifestyle: but that's another story - most of my life. I started when I was eleven, when my parents decided that hotel holidays with four children were becoming too expensive, so they bought the largest frame tent they could find and the rest was history.
We are still using some of the equipment from those epic trips around Europe: the 40 year old plastic water carrier (French); the hanging wardrobes, superb for storing all kinds of items, although then we used them for clothes; the stacking saucepans, all fitting in neatly one inside the other; we even have one of the canvas campbeds and a couple of thick sleeping bags which zip together neatly.
My father developed the art of packing the car to an extreme. In days before seatbelts, he took out the back seat and replaced it with tightly bundled sleeping bags tied down with string onto bamboo struts. Add an overstuffed boot, stuff in the rear footwell and a crammed-to-capacity roofrack and we were good to go.
And, of course, we drove for hours and hours and hours. Which is partly why I am more than a little envious of these good friends who camp in France with their tandem. Tent, sleeping bags, cooking equipment and clothes all fit neatly into the panniers or the little trailer. There is room for a good-sized umbrella strapped to the main frame, while laundry is efficiently air-dried from its position draped over the handlebars.
The lure of cycle camping is still there, but I can't complain. Since those childhood trips, camping for me has mostly consisted of a heavy canvas safari tent, complete with wooden poles, in the middle of the bush. When we were first married, we could decide to go camping and be off on safari within half an hour. We had a camping box stocked with enamel cups and plates, simple cutlery, matches and washing up liquid, a gas lamp and stove for emergencies.
Our favourite site was in a remote part of a Lake Bogoria game reserve, populated by flamingoes, greater kudu and the resident leopard, all of which we have seen strolling a few yards from our tent. Throw in scorpions and snakes for excitement and some to spare. A freshwater spring trickled down from the hillside above us and fig trees provided gentle shade. It was a truly magical place.
We took our children camping when they were only a few months old. On our first trip, our daughter screamed while we drove on tarmac, only calming when we bumped and lurched along a murram road, hugely potholed and rutted after heavy rains had wrought their havoc. She has been enthusiastic about trail and bush expeditions ever since.
Our tent rarely saw another in all those years. Remote and isolated, save for wildlife, was our dream. Hyenas and lions kept us awake at night, occasionally nosing round the outside of our tent and, once, removing laundry from a hanging branch nearby. Superb starlings flocked within touching distance. Elephants walked curiously through the campsite as we watched cautiously from a safe - or so we hoped - distance. And striking camp was ALWAYS exciting - we never knew what we might find hiding beneath the groundsheet.
Then we moved to England, exchanging our faithful wooden camping box for plastic crates, our canvas tent for a lightweight dome. Shocked by the unwelcoming climate, we camped only in Portugal (by air: tent and box came with us, the ground was our seating and our bed tiny self-inflating mattresses). Until New Wine.
Camping within touching distance of the next tent was a new experience - not to mention being with over 10,000 others on the Bath and West Showground at Shepton Mallet. We discovered a new kind of camping, living in community with others from the church for a week. The weather had to be accepted as it was and, generally, was reasonably kind although we were also 'treated' to torrential rain and thunderstorms at times. This was July in England, after all.
Now, our camping has ventured into new territories. Here at Le Pas Opton, France, we have an idyllic spot by a river, enclosed by hedges. Not only do we have running water, flush toilets and hot showers but, for the first time, we camp With Electricity. Overhead and table lights; a kettle; and a slow cooker. Beach chairs and an inflatable sofa; rugs on the floor; a tablecloth on the coffee table. No sleeping bags and mattresses, but an airbed complete with sheets, pillows and cosy duvet. No lengthy cooking chores: instead, we prepare a meal in the morning and it is ready for us when we return after an afternoon out. Add to that, a huge tent with living room space and picture windows.
As I wander up to the loos (yes, a walk to the toilets is still a feature of everyday life) in my satin pyjamas (elegant daughter's cast-offs), I wonder: is this, perhaps, glamping?
We are still using some of the equipment from those epic trips around Europe: the 40 year old plastic water carrier (French); the hanging wardrobes, superb for storing all kinds of items, although then we used them for clothes; the stacking saucepans, all fitting in neatly one inside the other; we even have one of the canvas campbeds and a couple of thick sleeping bags which zip together neatly.
My father developed the art of packing the car to an extreme. In days before seatbelts, he took out the back seat and replaced it with tightly bundled sleeping bags tied down with string onto bamboo struts. Add an overstuffed boot, stuff in the rear footwell and a crammed-to-capacity roofrack and we were good to go.
And, of course, we drove for hours and hours and hours. Which is partly why I am more than a little envious of these good friends who camp in France with their tandem. Tent, sleeping bags, cooking equipment and clothes all fit neatly into the panniers or the little trailer. There is room for a good-sized umbrella strapped to the main frame, while laundry is efficiently air-dried from its position draped over the handlebars.
Our favourite site was in a remote part of a Lake Bogoria game reserve, populated by flamingoes, greater kudu and the resident leopard, all of which we have seen strolling a few yards from our tent. Throw in scorpions and snakes for excitement and some to spare. A freshwater spring trickled down from the hillside above us and fig trees provided gentle shade. It was a truly magical place.
We took our children camping when they were only a few months old. On our first trip, our daughter screamed while we drove on tarmac, only calming when we bumped and lurched along a murram road, hugely potholed and rutted after heavy rains had wrought their havoc. She has been enthusiastic about trail and bush expeditions ever since.
Our tent rarely saw another in all those years. Remote and isolated, save for wildlife, was our dream. Hyenas and lions kept us awake at night, occasionally nosing round the outside of our tent and, once, removing laundry from a hanging branch nearby. Superb starlings flocked within touching distance. Elephants walked curiously through the campsite as we watched cautiously from a safe - or so we hoped - distance. And striking camp was ALWAYS exciting - we never knew what we might find hiding beneath the groundsheet.
Then we moved to England, exchanging our faithful wooden camping box for plastic crates, our canvas tent for a lightweight dome. Shocked by the unwelcoming climate, we camped only in Portugal (by air: tent and box came with us, the ground was our seating and our bed tiny self-inflating mattresses). Until New Wine.
Camping within touching distance of the next tent was a new experience - not to mention being with over 10,000 others on the Bath and West Showground at Shepton Mallet. We discovered a new kind of camping, living in community with others from the church for a week. The weather had to be accepted as it was and, generally, was reasonably kind although we were also 'treated' to torrential rain and thunderstorms at times. This was July in England, after all.
Now, our camping has ventured into new territories. Here at Le Pas Opton, France, we have an idyllic spot by a river, enclosed by hedges. Not only do we have running water, flush toilets and hot showers but, for the first time, we camp With Electricity. Overhead and table lights; a kettle; and a slow cooker. Beach chairs and an inflatable sofa; rugs on the floor; a tablecloth on the coffee table. No sleeping bags and mattresses, but an airbed complete with sheets, pillows and cosy duvet. No lengthy cooking chores: instead, we prepare a meal in the morning and it is ready for us when we return after an afternoon out. Add to that, a huge tent with living room space and picture windows.
As I wander up to the loos (yes, a walk to the toilets is still a feature of everyday life) in my satin pyjamas (elegant daughter's cast-offs), I wonder: is this, perhaps, glamping?
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| Evening ambience |
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| Glamping |
Friday, 15 August 2014
Wonderful photos...
Sitting here, smiling until my face aches as I look at Matt Ethan's wonderful photos. Here they are on his blog...
Friday, 8 August 2014
Wedding: celebration
The marriage itself was an incredibly rich celebration. Words are so important, so I loved their choice of lyrics in the songs they chose: both the songs we listened to and the songs we all sang together.
Adele came in to Van McCoy's 'Baby I'm Yours' played by Tom Hartley-Booth, with Amy, Josh and Joel Fiddy.
Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the stars fall from the sky.
Yours (yours) until the rivers all run dry
In other words, until I die.
Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the sun no longer shines,
Yours (yours) until the poets run out of rhyme.
In other words, until the end of time.
I'm gonna stay right here by your side.
Do my best to keep you satisfied
Nothing in the world could drive me away.
Everyday, you'll hear me say
"Baby, I'm yours"
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until two and two is three.
Yours (yours) until the mountains crumble to the sea
In other words, until eternity...
These songs spoke of how their marriage is so rooted in Jesus: the Word who is Love. Hearts sang with voices.
Jenny and Adam: sister-in-law, soon-to-be-brother-in-law!
Josh, housemate who 'survived' Jonny for two years...and still loves him!
Mr and Mrs Pollard! Out they went...almost dancing...
Adele came in to Van McCoy's 'Baby I'm Yours' played by Tom Hartley-Booth, with Amy, Josh and Joel Fiddy.
Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the stars fall from the sky.
Yours (yours) until the rivers all run dry
In other words, until I die.
Baby, I'm yours
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until the sun no longer shines,
Yours (yours) until the poets run out of rhyme.
In other words, until the end of time.
I'm gonna stay right here by your side.
Do my best to keep you satisfied
Nothing in the world could drive me away.
Everyday, you'll hear me say
"Baby, I'm yours"
(baby, I'm yours)
And I'll be yours (yours)
until two and two is three.
Yours (yours) until the mountains crumble to the sea
In other words, until eternity...
 |
| Drawings by Adele...? |
 |
| ...and drawings by Jonny. What a perfect Scripture to begin married life with. |
These songs spoke of how their marriage is so rooted in Jesus: the Word who is Love. Hearts sang with voices.
 |
| like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers. Psalm 1:3 |
 |
Those English Literature studies have their uses... |
 |
| Jenny, Adam and Josh: absolute singing legends... |
Josh, housemate who 'survived' Jonny for two years...and still loves him!
Mr and Mrs Pollard! Out they went...almost dancing...
Wedding fun!
Thanks to Jonny's cousin, Henry Wolff (aged 10), we have an amazing video of some of the wedding highlights: the day flew by so quickly, too quickly...
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