Lost For The First Time

Today, I had my introduction to Lost. Three episodes in and I'm hooked! If not for the gripping nature of the plot, the stunning scenery and the humour, it's for the characterisation. Just amazing. I mean, I've not exactly got very far yet, but already I'm engaged with several of the key characters. Kate, the fugitive, her guarded eyes and troubled posture. Jack, well, just amazing. What strength he has shown already, stepping up immediately as the island protector, but yet, he is one of the characters we know least about. Saiid, brusque but kind hearted. The Korean couple struggling to comprehend one another. I could go on... I'm fascinated to see how it all develops (if you've seen it, don't tell me...) and most of all to watch the character development. It's clever the way music is used as well, there is very little apart to add to the tension, except when Hurley pops on his headphones. Suddenly distance is created, and you're allowed to reflect for the first time on what has taken place, and you begin to see the mending and building of relationships across the rubble.

I'm sure I could be pretty wrong on most of this, but that's the joy of watching a story play out. You just never quite know... I like that.

I also enjoyed Jack's little anecdote about his medical career, and the fear. Telling of an operation which went wrong, with potentially fatal consequences, Jack describes 'the fear' and says that he gave it five seconds to enter, do its thing, but five seconds only. Later, you see Kate remember and utilise this in the jungle. Watching them both, I was encouraged. We all get scared, but the fact is, fear is never in control. I suppose there is always that moment of choice. Will I let it get the better of me, or not. If Jack had let it consume him, he would never have got to the point of being the doctor able to save so many in the crisis on the island. But I'll bet you anything that in that operating theatre, he never dreamt how that moment of courage would change the course of his, and many people's lives. Probably before that moment, and in it. I'll be interested to see some more of the philosophical depth of the series too, as I can tell there will be more.

Now, song of today:
http://www.we7.com/#/song/Hezekiah-Walker--LFC/Hold-Out

Pink Grapefruits and Friends

So, three days into my little exercise of writing each day, and oddly enough, the first post. The first, written under the apple tree in our garden at home, is saved on my Mum's laptop, and I'm awaiting its arrival by email. The second, well, it is still in my head. However, today, I have something else on my mind so I'm writing about that. The rest will follow retrospectively.

Today has been a good day. Considering I was dreading it, for reasons I won't disclose here, it was a very good day. I didn't manage to have breakfast (a secondary part of my post Easter challenge - funny how I didn't do anything for Lent this year and am now churning out the challenges as soon as it is over. Mind you, Lent was never supposed to be about that, but anyway) but that is always something I'll find difficult. I just don't feel hungry in the mornings. I think tomorrow I might buy a grapefruit. A pink grapefruit. I didn't like them at all growing up, but after watching so many people devour them over the years, I decided this was a fruit I must master. So, I ate half a pink grapefruit one day. Then the other half the next day. Before long I too became a 'eat-it-with-a-spoon' pink grapefruit devourer. I wonder if one day someone will look at me and wonder whether they should try to like pink grapefruits. Probably not.

Following breakfast came work, which passed quite quickly today, something I was grateful for. The first day back after a long weekend is always more of a challenge! Then after work I met Annie at Nandos. I love Nandos. No matter how often we have been to eat there together, we always choose the exact same thing on the menu (to share, of course!) chicken wings (lemon and herb for Annie), salad, olives, chips and halloumi cheese! Tonight we splashed out on red pepper dip too... yum! We sat in a booth, and we talked. It was incredibly good to just take lots of time to eat, talk, reflect and laugh. It was something we used to do a lot when we were doing our teacher training, after being placed in the same school we'd drive over to Starbucks every day, plan our lessons, drink delicious coffee or Earl Grey tea, eat cake and debrief the days events. The journey there having drained the frustrations already (we used to call it the 'car of honesty' for all the secrets that were disclosed there!!) It felt great to take some time out to do that again.

Then I came home, had a think, and phoned Lucy.  We talked for almost two hours, about life and work, reminiscing about the past and probing the future. It's been too long since I've seen Lucy, but I am incredibly grateful for her friendship over the years, and her unfailing interest in my thoughts and concerns. I love that we're about as crazy as each other, so neither of us has to worry that the other thinks she is mad. However, you'd think, with twenty five years of living in your own heart, mind, soul and body, that you'd understand yourself, wouldn't you? Yet, how is it possible to still be having conversations with friends, and be asked the question, 'but surely you knew you felt that way?' or 'is that news to you?' about various things, or to have it pointed out to you that the thing you're actually concerned about is the one thing you're not voicing. How well we think we know ourselves, but how far we are from the truth. No wonder it takes a lifetime to know another person, when you don't even know yourself... in fact, in some ways, the older I get, the more I surprise myself. Thankfully there are a few amazing people around me who understand me better than I understand myself. Today, I am grateful for friends who have the perception to see in me what I can't see, and the grace to point it out to me so that I can live wisely.

To Annie and Lucy, thank you. I will buy you a grapefruit each. A pink one. If you like them.

Mind Revolution of a Gospel Kind

The second challenge, is to listen to gospel music. There's such power in the proclamation of truth, the possession of promise and the activation of scripture in it. In my battle for the renewal of my mind, I feel this is key. So, from today I'm listening to gospel music, I've prescribed myself an hour a day... So far, so good!

I'm far from defeated yet. It's one of those Aragorn moments, time to pick up the sword again.

Watch this space.

And check this out for my tune of the day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhTLb8VGQnk

Resurrection Day

We are brought up with this question of ‘what am I going to do with my life?’ and ‘what do I want to be when I grow up?’ Some of us know instantly what it is we would like to do, simple as a heartbeat we know what it is we were made for. Others wrestle with the question for years, throwing ideas around, eventually working it out or giving up because we feel inadequate just making the decision. Then there are those who seize the day, go where the wind takes them, and choose to just take it one step at a time, trusting that at some moment they’ll end up doing what they’re supposed to do. I wonder if sometimes we put too much pressure on ourselves with all of this. Perhaps there is not simply one thing we are supposed to do with out lives, maybe in fact there are many… but if that is the case, then why do we have this inbuilt question, and this feeling that ‘I’m not where I’m supposed to be’, this sense that somewhere out there is a place where I fit in, where there is something to be done that requires my personality, character, skill set, and experience.

At the moment I would say it’s a bit of a personal grapple of my own. I’m not where I thought I would be. In many ways I’m not where I wanted to be, and I’m definitely not where I ultimately want to be. Does that mean though that I’m not in the right place doing the right thing? Not necessarily.

For me, everything all comes down to faith. How can it not when my life is centred around my faith in Jesus Christ, and lived in relationship with him. So, for those of you not so inclined, please bear with me as I try to unravel this one. The thing is, people throughout my life have said to me ‘God has a purpose’ and I’ve seen from the Bible (which I believe to be God’s word) that this is true. That God is working all things together for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8.28). That God has a plan for my life… that many are the plans God has for me, plans to give me a hope and a future and not to harm me (Jeremiah 29.11) That God orders my steps, that he lights my way, that he leads me by ways I have not known… I could go on and on and give you hundreds of references all screaming out the same thing. That God knows. That God cares. That God has called me for such a time as this (Esther).

So, why is this so difficult?

I suppose that is exactly why it is difficult. It’s that tension between how it is and how it should be, what I know and how it feels. And the tension between the now and the not yet. When I went to Uni, I had this phrase which I’d tell myself when everything felt like it was going a little off track ‘embrace the chaos’. I remember hearing a talk when I was about 15 and the speaker said, ‘embrace the tension’. This afternoon I’ve been thinking about how maybe I need to do exactly this. Embrace the tension between what I wished would happen and what did. Between what I dream of, and what I’m living. Perhaps it is less about discovering what I ‘should’ be doing, and more about embracing what I am doing. Making the most of every tiny opportunity, the gift of every day. This situation won’t last forever, and while sometimes I feel like it might just all engulf me, I know that I have a God who is faithful, who made all the promises above (and many more) and who is ultimately leading me down a path less travelled, to a place yet unknown. However. Perhaps I need to have faith to believe that God doesn’t just have one purpose for my life, but that in my life at all times, there is purpose. 

The last few months I’ve realised the impact of God being outside of time (an ongoing thought). In which case, the purpose he has is constant. The purpose of God in your life is constant, at all times, in all circumstances, he has  a purpose in what is happening to you, and he is going to use it, is using it and has already used it in your future. He’s outside time, remember… so he has already seen and enabled that thing which is the direct result of what is happening to you now. No matter how difficult, impossible, meaningless or even overwhelming it may feel, he is able to use it, and is already ahead of you, using it to open doors in your future. What happens to you today will at some point, guaranteed, be of encouragement to someone else in time to come. It always is. So, that’s one thing.

Whilst I know all of this, I think often for me the greatest challenge is deciding what to do with now… because between now and not yet there is a walking out of the everyday. And whatever the purpose is in my situation, at the moment the reality is that I have had enough, and I am worn out. However. I refuse to be defeated. So, I have been thinking of ways to pass the time, and ways to use this time to grow and develop and the practical ‘how’ of getting through it. Which is precisely why I am writing now. This is one of them.

When I think of what I would like to do with my life, what I dreamt of doing, and what I love to do, there are a few key things which run steadfast throughout. One of these being writing. That’s one thing about my job at the moment – I do get to write quite a bit. The advantage of working in a creative environment, and advertising. However, I don’t take the time like I used to (like this moment right now) to just let my thoughts run over the page. And when was the last time I wrote a story or a poem? It’s been a while. So, from today, I have decided that for the next month (it’s probably worth setting a realistic target seeing as I usually set my goals far too high!) I am going to try and write something every day. Irrespective of genre, length, subject or quality. I think I just need to get back in the habit of writing. If nothing else, I find that it helps to order my thoughts, inspire me and keep my eyes fixed on something bigger. I’ve often found that it is easy to lose a sense of perspective by becoming too fixated on the immediate circumstances. Sometimes it helps me to set myself a challenge, a task, or find a project.

So, for now, in the limbo, this is mine. I'm going to write every day. About something... anything... nothing. We'll just see what happens. As for the rest, in time, I'll get there... so will you. Enough thinking, time to live in the now. 

When Faces Called Flowers Float Out of The Ground

one of e.e.cummings' finest. and oh so beautifully apt. enjoy:'

when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)

when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving-
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)

when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living-
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)

What I Can't Say...

Sometimes my own words just can't cut it.

'Though hot the fight, why quit the field? Why must I either flee or yield?'
Why Should I Fear The Darkest Hour by John Newton.

A classic, a hymn (I'm a big fan of hymnwriters, and reading hymns as poetry - you should check out Olney Hymns by John Newton and William Cowper if you're a fan of this one...) Do you ever question your doubts, or feel frustrated by your own lack of follow in an area of your life? I know I do. So did John Newton, ex slave trader and one of England's greatest hymn writers... I love his honesty, the raw emotion and transparency, whilst clearly battling with his own giants, he clings to the truth and fights it out. Not to feel would be a lie, but to rely only on what he feels would be deception. So a holy war ensues between the two...
Why should I fear the darkest hour,
or tremble at the tempter's power?
Jesus vouchsafes to be my tower.
Though hot the fight, why quit the field?
Why must I either flee or yield?
Since Jesus is my mighty shield?

I know not what may soon betide
or how my wants shall be supplied;
but Jesus knows and will provide.
Though sin would fill me with distress,
the throne of grace I dare address,
for Jesus is my righteousness.

Though faint my prayers and cold my love,
my steadfast hope shall not remove
while Jesus intercedes above.
Against me earth and hell combine;
but on my side is power divine;
Jesus is all and he is mine.

Take your weakness. Take your pain. Take your questions. Take your doubts. Take the most honest version of yourself, and go to Jesus. He will take it all, and make sense from what you cannot. He will answer some questions, and others his presence will dispel. But he will never ignore you. And he'll never leave you inconclusive. The conclusion will always, and forever, be himself. There is no greater answer to the questions of this life. It's an honour to work them out hand in hand with the one who holds both the architects plans and the key to the finished work. Beginning and end, he is, he was, he will be. Take it all. To Him. Then leave it. Once you have Him, you don't need anything else. Guaranteed.

Living Houses

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself...

C.S.Lewis

The Most Beautiful Exchange

This morning God spoke to me as I walked into town, listening to The Beautiful Exchange (Hillsong).

It has been a long week, I've felt heavy hearted and burdened by a few situations in my life and those close to me. Sometimes things just feel so huge and I just felt tiny, inadequate and helpless in the face of them.

The lyrics of the song are:

You were near
Though I was distant
Disillusioned
I was lost and insecure

Still mercy fought
For my attention
You were waiting at the door
Then I let You in

Trading your life
For my offenses
For my redemption
You carried all the blame

Breaking the curse
Of our condition
Perfection took our place

When only love could make a way
You gave Your life in a beautiful exchange

My burden erased
My life forgiven
There is nothing that could take this love away

My only desire
And sole ambition
Is to love You just the same

When only love could make a way
You gave Your life in a beautiful exchange
When only love could break these chains
You gave Your life in a beautiful exchange

Holy are You, God
Holy is Your name
With everything I've got
My heart will sing how I love You

As I listened, I felt something change in my spirit, as I realised that that beautiful exchange counts for today. The cross is outside of time, and happened once, and for all. But I'm still locked in time (for now) and therefore I haven't yet felt all of the pain, suffering, shame or sin that Jesus bore for me.

In moments like this where I feel overwhelmed by it all, I can come to the cross, and receive that beautiful exchange again. And again.

He takes my sin, he sets me free. He takes my pain and gives me peace. He takes the ache in my heart and makes it whole. He gives me beauty for ashes, joy for sorrow. Hope instead of despair. Life instead of death.

There is no more beautiful exchange than that, and today, I receive it again.

I pledge allegiance to a country without borders...

The title of this blog is taken from Switchfoot's 'Politicians', taken from Nothing is Sound. This track came on shuffle today, and I have not been able to get that line out of my head all day. What exactly does it mean to pledge allegiance to a country without borders? Two things have happened today to clarify this for me.

I met a friend for coffee this morning, and she told me that she'd been reading a book by a guy who mentioned that a homeless man had stopped him in the street and asked him for a hug. He obliged. In the book he went on to comment that Jesus lived life like this, without borders. If asked, he always engaged with the person, and the issue. His actions were a direct measure of the worth of each person. I don't see him ignoring one person in the gospels now I think about it. One thing I realised was that Jesus lived in a way that challenges us, because he never held back because the situation at hand was uncomfortable, messy or undignified. Most of the time, he had to get involved in full view of those around him, yet this never swayed his resolve or integrity. Jesus just WAS. He was how he was. He is how he is. Being in very nature God, he is unchanging. I am horribly aware of my own inadequacy in this area, I know that I can be very fickle. Or have the best intentions but forget to follow though.

This brings me to the second thing that happened. Tonight I spent some time with someone who brought to light my lack of follow through of late. I've had a lot going on, but admittedly, that shouldn't make a difference. I want to be someone who is relentless in their pursuit of Christ, all that he is and in constant renewal to become the person he has made me to be - a person more like him. He has, and will not ever let anyone down. It frustrates me that in my heart I have such good intentions, ones that I will even verbalise in the form of promise - and then as soon as the words leave my lips, I'll forget and then it will be a week later and too late to act. I don't want to be this way. Paul, one of the leaders of the early church, puts it this way, 'I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do' Romans 7:15. This is of great encouragement to me, because Paul had some of the most mind blowing revelations, and it's humbling to realise that he too struggled in this battle with contradiction, the tension 'between how it is and how it should be' as Switchfoot word it.

The thing is, when placed in the context of my initial thought 'I pledge allegiance to a country without borders', I think that for today, and for the coming days and weeks, this will be my mission. To live my life pledging allegiance to a country without borders. A place where, if Jesus would do it, so shall I. If he would stop, reach out, make a phone call, write an email, buy a coffee for someone sheltering from the rain, give away my shoes - whatever it is, that I would try to do so. I know (and in advance I apologise for this) that sometimes I will forget. I know that I'm terribly fallible and will certainly at points let my own borders hold me back, but I want to make a life choice now - to see things from the perspective of a citizen of a country without borders.

I pledge allegiance to that country.

And it's manifesto goes something like this:

Why not to get on a bus...

Today I was going to catch a bus home from town. I didn't. I'm glad I didn't, because I would have missed so many tiny splashes of beauty. The rain hitting my skin like a thousand tiny drops of sky. A delicious amaretto hot chocolate to warm both hands and stomach. The Narnian lamp posts of New Walk. The prison which with it's turrets must (I'm sure) feature in some incredible adventure story. The many many scores of men with their sons on the way to watch a Tigers game - so many different expressions of fatherhood. The silence of the back streets. Children racing each other to the traffic lights. The whoosh of each car as it passed me on the main road. The moment my thoughts shouted louder than the traffic and drowned it out. The inverted fleur de lys created in ironwork on the door of the bridal shop. The first star to come out. So many tiny reasons not to get on the bus...

A Perfect Moment

There is something about creating the perfect moment. This afternoon for example, I set our for such a moment. Knowing that I had some thinking to do, I made up a flask of hot chocolate (it's getting to that time of year when flasks come in handy again!), grabbed my notebook, sketchbook and Bible, oh, and Brooke's new album which is now becoming my soundtrack to this season... and drove out to the countryside to find me some space. I had three things I was looking for, a hilltop, trees (beech, of course) and a whole lot of sky. Don't you notice that in the city there is far less sky about than in the country? So, I ended up out near Bradgate Park. 


It was my intention to find a spot just over the hill a bit further out, where I spotted some incredible trees in the summer, and knew that autumn would have taken them captive with its flaming colours. I drove about for a while, partly because I hadn't quite found the right place, and partly because I was stuck on a track on the album which got me a bit lost in thought. And then I saw it. A glow of gold loomed in front of me as I drove up a hill, lined in trees. Around a bend, through a field and over a sheep's feeding trough, I caught a glimpse of more colour, and much much more sky. So I followed, winding my way uphill until I reached the brow, where I was able to turn off and caught the beginnings of a sunset in all its glory over a drystone wall. Amazingly, there was a car park, and a bench... just perfect. Grabbing my bag, I jumped out (I could sense that this would not be a lingering sunset) and made my way to the top of the hill where above some rocks, I had an incredible 360° view of the surrounding area. Breathtaking. 


And then, right in front of me the sun was slowly ebbing away below the horizon, glowing a deep fuschia pink, with streaks of gold flying out from it across the sky, and wafts of  pale pink floating like candy floss clouds across a sea of colour. It was stunning. I stood there a while, with my mug of hot chocolate, before wandering down to the bench to enjoy watching the colours fade as the sky returned to normal and night began to descend. 


Just as it began to get dark, and I started to get cold, I decided it was time to head home. Taking a different path back to the car, I found myself walking next to a shaded glade of huge beech trees, surrounded by a low drystone wall with plenty of gaps in it. Stood beneath a canopy of suspended colour, I was amazed by the variety in the colours of the leaves - I mean, I embrace autumn every single year, and yet I was astounded by the depth and variety of colour that occured on one single branch. Leaves of auburn, red, gold, bright yellow, green, ochre and brown. Some tinged with more than one shade or tone. Just beautiful. As I returned to the car, I remembered that I had found everything I had gone looking for, and found them all in one perfect moment. 


The thing is, I couldn't have created that if I'd tried. A tradition I have back home is to go outside to a grass bank outside the house and watch the sunset. Every day. I have done so pretty much every day that I've been at home since my first few weeks of lower sixth. There is something magical about the fact that every single night (apart from the rainy ones) the sun sets a completely different way. Sometimes it is sudden and violent in its dramatic array of colour, and others it almost slips away unnoticed with a glow of yellows and blues. The thing is, there are so many times where I've hoped to catch the sunset and just missed it. Or got outside just after the sun has dropped its head below the horizon, only to catch the end. Tonight, I hoped that I might perhaps stumble across it, but that was it. And I was completely blow away by it. 


When I thought about it as I drove home, it really spoke to me of God and what he does if we'll only expect of him, and then give him the space to do it how he would like. He is the great artist after all. I love the sentiment of 'Carpe Diem', the sense of seizing the day, seizing the moment and making it great. I think sometimes though it can miss that echo of needing to wait and savour the moment. It speaks of a valiant rushing out to battle at the right moment - to have that you must wait long enough to know what that moment it when it happens. Similarly, when we set our hearts to seek God, we too should allow him the time and space to truly create something great. I think today I learnt something as I dedicated that time to finding the sky, trees and hilltop. I was determined not to come back unless and until I had done so. I was expectant, that I would. And I wasn't exactly sure where exactly it was going to come from. Had I gone to the hilltop I first thought of, I would have missed the canvas that God painted for me, because it faces a different direction and the sunset would simply not have been visible. God is a God who loves and created detail, and I think in our eagerness we expect the best, but determine how it will arrive. 


I love the art of creating that perfect moment. A favourite evening activity when I'm on my own is to light candles around my room, put on a killer album, and paint. Or read. Or write. The thing is, when I do that, what I produce is of better quality but also, there is a stillness in my soul created by the sense of having arrived early for the main event. Like tonight, I arrived just before the first act. And because of that, it was so much better than I could have imagined. I think in my learning to seek God, I might try out the art of preparing for, and creating that perfect moment by making time for God, preparing the space for him, and arriving a little bit early... because I never know just how he might arrive, or what he might say, and I want to give him that space to surprise me. 

From the Inside Out

Have you ever thought about progress? I've been dwelling on the subject for a few weeks now, in between work, weddings and the ins and outs of everyday life. Driving to and from work, or walking down a green shaded lane in Ireland, I've been confronted by the idea that progress works its way from the inside out. 

Progress is incredibly hard to measure. You can feel that you are making progress in an area, and then find yourself ten steps back from where you began. Does this mean that there has been no progress made, or that the progress you made was then cancelled out in regression? Or does it mean that progress is not so much of a moving along a straight and measured line from A to B, but more of a growing, more of a stretching, and almost like another few inches in an unraveling of string. 

It is more like the unsure steps of a toddler just learning to bear his own weight on his yet untested feet. A little stumble doesn't mean that he has lost the ability to get up again, or place on foot in front of the other and learn to walk. More so, it motivates him to get up and continue with renewed determination, because he knows that he got that far before he fell... 

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that progress works itself from the inside out. It takes a conscious decision to step out in the first place, and then again, and risk the fall. The journey from walking to running often happens more internally than we give it credit for. It is easy when you're teaching or mentoring, to feel that you are making little impact, and that progress is just not happening. In my experience though, this is rarely true. In this life, we are rarely standing still. We progress. We regress. It is an inherent part of being human. We move forwards, or backwards, progress or regress, but we are rarely standing still. 

Yet, in order to move in any direction, or more specifically, the right direction - it takes a conscious choice, and a determined effort. It also takes knowing where you want to get to. Without vision, a people perish. And without vision, progress is difficult. I'm becoming more and more convinced that each decision we face is a choice to progress or regress, to move in one direction or another. In every moment that I face, I choose to be a greater or lesser version of myself, I choose to strength or weakness, trust or fear. Of course it is natural to lose our footing at some point or other, but the measure of the progress is in how quickly we get back up and try again. 

It's that internal decision, and decided motivation that will determine the quality of our progression. Speed of progression is neither here nor there - some things just take longer to learn than others, and that is okay. More important is having that sense of where you're going, and the confidence to get back up again when you stumble or fall. It will happen, if you choose it, from the inside out. To progress is to become. 

M1

There's something about being back at home that just inspires me to write. Perhaps it's something to do with being back in the place where a lot of my dreams were born, where I first learnt to share and externalise my thoughts, and later learnt how to internalise them too... I think it is also possibly to do with the journey I make to get here. Three hours down the M1 may not ordinarily strike me as something inspiring, but oddly enough, for me, every single time it is!

I remember the first time I made the journey from Farnham to Leicester, when my Dad drove me up to begin my first term of my first year. Five years later, and that journey has changed me. Whilst the route has not altered, the scenery has changed, and so has the person making that journey. When my Dad used to drive me up, my favourite part of the journey was when we reached Northamptonshire, because at some point (and I've never quite worked out where it is, except I recognise it when we're near it) we pass an expanse of open countryside, and on the right hand side there an old farm building in the middle of a field.

I remember the first time I saw it, an old red-bricked, red-roofed single storey building, with a roof that looked not dissimilar to the kind of sloping (about to fall off) roof that you might make for a gingerbread house, the kind where the gingerbread is too soft to hold itself upright, so it caves a little in the middle. Well, anyway, it looked a bit like that, the edges of the roof not quite meeting the walls in some places. the next time we passed it, on the way back from Leicester a few months later, the roof had slipped further away from the walls at the corners, some of the tiles had fallen off, and cracks were beginning to show in the walls. Over the years, the cracks have got wider, the tiles have continued to slide off until there is almost no roof left, and little green tufts have begun to show themselves through the holes in the roof. It is like that dilapidated, unused and forgotten old building is being brought to life. As the original structure slowly crumbles into insignificance, wild saplings, shrubs and climbing plants have made it their home. Now when you look at it, it resembles more of a very cramped walled garden. And before long, the walls will give way under the weight of the greenery, and what was once a building will become a copse in the middle of a field.

This to me has been hugely significant over the years, on a quiet, rarely mentioned level, except to my Dad, who, every time we passed it would have to put up with me pointing out this dilapidated, forgotten old farmhouse. I'm not sure what attracted me to it originally - I suppose I find beauty in things which appear to be long forgotten. And there seemed to be something incredibly soulish about this place. Not much to look at in itself, to me it represents a great deal. It speaks to me of my life, of who I was five years ago before I started my studies. Over the years I have seen that building change in ways that I know I have done so too. Ok, so I haven't fallen apart or been taken over by climbing plants, but I have learnt, and had to surrender many of the ideals and attitudes that I started out with. I have learnt to be broken by the love of God, and made completely vulnerable before him. I have also learnt that the power of his love has been renewing me, tearing down the walls that I have put up between myself and him, and allowing him to make me come alive by the power of his Holy Spirit. I have never felt so content, so at ease, so simply and wonderfully alive as I do right now. And whilst I will miss that old red-bricked building by the M1, I know I won't need it on my journeys anymore...

That Literary Life

I spent this morning in Costa Coffee with my little sister, Suzie. She's in the middle of A-level English Literature coursework, and so of course, the discussion turned towards her essays, and her many ideas for them. I think it is easy to forget how much you enjoyed something once you no longer do it... or once it is no longer an integral part of your life. My life now no longer rotates or really has anything to do with authors, poetry, prose or literary theory. I still love to read, but I don't think that will ever change.

I suppose what I realised this morning is just how much I loved studying literature. In fact, how much I still do. There are skills you pick up when studying a literature degree, that you are not even aware of. Like the fact that every time I read a book, poem or even just some kind of advertisement, words, lines and ideas will stand out to me. That has come from having to look at hundreds of texts through the eyes of an essay question. I love the power of words, I love the fact that not until you read something on a page, do you fully understand exactly what it is that you think or feel about a given situation. I love that moment when you read a line of writing and you suddenly realise that right there, on that page, is exactly how you felt, or exactly what that moment was like. Almost as if, until that moment, you had not truly lived that experience.

Sometimes I think about what I would do if I was given a choice between two circumstances, like, would I choose to be blind or deaf, would I choose to only ever be able to hear melody or lyrics, or whether I could only ever write or read. The latter is one I have never quite come to a conclusion on. To be able to articulate in words something that someone will one day read and feel a sense of affinity with, or to be able to read what another has written, and have the satisfaction of knowing that right there, through that line or sentiment, you are not alone, because someone else has felt it too. Thankfully, I don't have to choose between the two. And for that, I am very grateful.

Romance

Last week there was an article in The Independent, in which relationship expert Jenni Trent Hughes states, ' We may no longer be knights in shining armour or damsels in distress, but we still want and need romance - it is part of our emotional DNA.' The more I muse over this, the more I am convinced that she is right. Perhaps not in the sense of the 'romance' which is immediately conjured in the mind's eye, but the real kind of romance. That which takes the knight in shining armour and the damsel in distress and removes from it the dated and cliched, leaving behind the heroic, chivalric, impossible quest in pursuit of the heart of another. Leaving in its very essence an adventure.

Having asked a few friends how they would define it, I received the following responses. One stated that it is 'little gestures when you least expect them', another 'the intentional pursuit of one by the other' and finally, 'being made to feel like you're the most amazing person to someone else using whatever comes to hand, be it candles and music or poetry, or simply a shared knowing look'. I love the different facets of romance depicted by each thought, but am particularly struck by the second, 'the intentional pursuit of one by the other'. This captures the sense of adventure I was talking about earlier. It also speaks of romance as an action. This is ultimately the conclusion I have reached, that romance is an action, grammatically speaking it is a verb. Something which one does, rather than something that simply is. It suggests that romance, although it may include them, is more than simply a feeling. More than a candlelit dinner, a serenade, a single rose, a mix tape or a moonlit walk. Romance is when you see something in someone else which whispers to you that it was always meant to be a part of you, and it is what you do to go out and pursue that.

I love this quote by John Eldredge in the Sacred Romance, which speaks of God's incredible pursuit of our hearts. John writes, 'Someone or something has romanced us from the beginning with creek-side singers and pastel sunsets, with the austere majesty of snowcapped mountains and the poignant flames of autumn colours telling us of something - or someone- leaving, with a promise to return.' Isn't that beautiful? It's an incredible image.

I was speaking with a friend tonight about God's plan and his timing, and we were commenting on the intricacy of this. On my drive to work on Friday I was stopped at a set of traffic lights, and feeling a little head-full, I paused to look at a tree by the roadside. Something I have been trying to train myself in, and to be honest, most of the time it comes naturally, is the ability to find beauty in everything. So, I challenge myself to stop and fully absorb what is right before my eyes, be it a fading sunset or a tree silhouetted against a gloomy winter skyline. On this particular morning it was a tree just by the side of the road, set against a sky which was definitely threatening rain. I paused just long enough to absorb the arch of the branches, the small bird finding refuge on one of the outermost branches, the graceful curvature of the trunk as the tree wound higher and higher. By the time the lights had turned green and it was time to drive on, my soul had been stilled, and my mind had been awakened to the presence of God. I was explaining to my friend how incredible that was, that the very mundane surroundings we face everyday can be a stunning reminder of God's presence. That the intricacies of that tree were in the mind of God at creation, long before the first sign of a sapling had burst from the earth. My friend then commented that in fact, more amazing than this, was the fact that God knew that one day that tree by the side of the road, bereft of leaf and life, would be a source of encouragement to me, and a reminder of his presence. And perhaps, when he created that very tree, he had that very purpose in mind.

The very idea of God romancing us is mind-blowing, and one that needs much more thought. It reminded me of a passage in Hosea, where the people of Israel have been unfaithful to God, and the previous part of the chapter is Hosea's rebuke to the Israelites. Then, it says this. 'Therefore I am now going to allure her, I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her.' Hosea 2:14. The God I see in the Bible is one who again and again and again pursues us. He sees in us, out of his breathtaking grace, something which he longs to be in relationship with. He sees in us something worthy of pursuit. And he gives his all in our pursuit. It is definitely an idea which is going to take some more thought, and a greater depth of study, but even in the beginnings of understanding this notion, I am blown away by the very magnitude of  God who romances us.

To Start... or Not to Stop...

For a while now I have been thinking about the difference between starting, and simply not stopping.

Not long ago, a friend and I were walking through town just after closing hours on a Saturday, the streets were relatively empty for a weekend, but this probably had something to do with the pervasive cold which bit through layers of coats, scarves and cardigans.

Deep in conversation, we noticed little around us. That is, until we passed a lady hunched up by the corner of a building. The same thought must have come to us both, as without discussion, we stopped. Just around the corner McDonalds was still open. 'A cheeseburger and a hot chocolate please'. Within minutes, we were back. And then, we carried on.

Shortly, we came across another similar figure, hunched into a doorway. Having just stopped, we couldn't go on without stopping once more. 'A cheeseburger and a hot chocolate please'. What it was with that meal that evening, I'm still not sure. So, again, within minutes we had returned to our second friend... and then we carried on home.

That incident has stayed with me for weeks now.

What is it that bothers me about it? That we started? That we did something, that we stopped, that we acted on impulse? No. The part of this which still unsettles me, is why did we stop? Had we kept walking, I know we would have found another, and another and another.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if this is how pilgrims of love begin their journey. I wonder if this is the bug that bit Mother Theresa, and inspired her to reach out to the children of Calcutta? Or the same rush of compassion that led Jackie Pullinger to live for years seeing God deliver thousands of people from drug addiction? Or the desperation which led Brother Andrew to return behind the Iron Curtain again and again and again

If I'm honest, I think the thing which bothers me most is that I have a dream. In fact, I have many. I spend a great deal of time thinking about the causes closest to my heart, and sometimes rashly, but most often tentatively, I think about starting.

Starting seems like the easy part. But... if I start... will I ever stop?
Maybe that's the point.

Silent Songs of Lovely Things

The son greatly wished to make a 'Song of Lovely Things' to sing to his Beloved - but he could not find singing words. He heard the voice of his Beloved saying, 'You are walking on the road where all who love me walk. Some of them walked this way singing, and they've left their songs behind them. Find their songs. Sing their words. They will be your song to Me.'

The son became full of grief, because there came a day when he could find no words to sing - neither his own, nor those of others. And yet he wanted with all his heart and soul and mind to ascend to higher places, to stand in the presence of his Beloved...

And He who is love eternal whispered, 'Then I, too, will approach you, silent in my love.' And the son entered into this silence, to meet the eternal Beloved there...  

After a while there was a sound in the gentle stillness, a voice that whispered, 'Even your silence is, to Me, a song of lovely things...'

 Amy Carmichael

His thoughts said... His father said

Nostalgia in a Coffee Cup

And thou shouldst know they all have delight

as much as their own vision penetrates

The Truth, in which all intellect finds rest.

Dante, Paradiso. 

I'm sitting in my room, tealights, a vanilla and black walnut candle burning, and a stick of incense smouldering in the corner. I'm listening to Emily Barker, a delicious new musical discovery who I was introduced to by my friend Jess. Emily's folky, and somewhat whimsical style evokes in me the sense of nostalgia that has been lingering these past few days.

I think it's something to do with transition. You know that feeling you get when 'times they are a changing' (cue Bob Dylan), and it's like you're walking a knife edge between apprehensive excitement which beckons you around the bend in the road, and a wistful glance behind you as you turn the corner? I'm there. Yesterday afternoon I took myself off to one of my favourite haunts, (I won't tell you where in case one day you find me there...) and I spent the afternoon with a hot chocolate, gazing out of the window, watching the snowflakes spinning downwards, before the sky cleared to a  bright blue tinged with rose as the sun began to set. I took my notebook with me, and wrote  a while.

One of the most thought provoking things about 'Garden State' is the whole question of what it is to be unique, and the idea that in one moment you can do something which has never ever been done before - and in that moment, you are unique. To some extent this is always true, in that I will never be able to recreate anything that anyone else has done, or at least not in the exact way that they have just done it, but all the same, I love the creativity that is stimulated by that notion. I think a lot of human discontent (or at least in the West) is based around a hunger, a search for the unique. Everybody wants to be somebody different - to do or be something different to anything that has ever been before.

I know that is true for me. Much of the frustration I feel at the moment is tied up with a feeling of impetus - like there is something I have to do, but I can't do it yet. It's like when I write a poem, often I can almost sense one beginning, but not find the words to express what I am feeling for a while. Then, all of a sudden, usually in one sitting, I write, and I have a poem. And it's almost as if in the writing of it, I can suddenly put words to, and express what it is I have been feeling. Being an external processor, this is pretty normal for me... it's sometimes not until I start talking or writing that I manage to put my finger on exactly what it is I am trying to express. This can be either quite frustrating, or incredibly liberating, depending which stage in the process I am in!

What is your soundtrack to your life? At the moment? I've been toying with the idea of jotting down in my journal the songs that stick with me at a particular time, with the idea of one day compiling the soundtrack to my life (maybe not the whole thing, it may take a while). However, the more I think about it, the key moments of my life are very much tied up with songs that I know so well that just hearing the introduction takes me back to that time.

I was thinking that I might share a few over the next few posts. First one coming up now...

Hoppipolla - Sigur Ros

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EyI4p0yjDQ

I distinctly remember the day I bought this album, from Sainsbury's in Farnham (Water Lane for those who know it well), put it straight in my cd player in the car and drove home. I wound my way through The Sands, reaching the crescendo just as I was driving downhill through vivid green beech woods (like they always are at Easter time) against a moody grey sky. It was at a time when I had been going through a season of grieving, and was just beginning to feel alive again - and the life giving sap in the beech leaves, combined with the climactic swelling of the track, just made my spirits soar. This track will always remind me of that year, because the victory I heard in the melody, was almost as acute as that in my heart.

Anyway. That's the first one for now.

For now, take a look at this. I think you'll find it interesting...

http://makesmethink.com/

Until next time...

The Nutcracker

Yesterday I saw The Nutcracker. Our main present this Christmas was a family ticket to see the English National Ballet's performance of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker at The London Coliseum (designed by Gerald Scarfe and choreographed by Christopher Hampson). It was absolutely breathtaking.

It follows the story of a young girl called Clara, who receives the gift of a wooden nutcracker doll on Christmas Eve. In a dream in the middle of the night, all the toys, including the nutcracker, come to life and a battle is staged in front of the now giant Christmas tree. Following a stand off between the Nutcracker and the King Mouse, the Nutcracker is wounded. Clara is moved to action and rescues her beloved Nutcracker. He is transformed into a handsome prince, because Clara showed her love for him while he was ugly. They are carried by a paper bird to the Kingdom of Sweets, where the Prince once reigned.

The second act follows the Nutcracker Prince and Clara to the Kingdom of Sweets, where they are greeted by the Sugar Plum Fairy and her prince. They are treated to a series of dances by the inhabitants of the kingdom (some of the sweets had the most incredible costumes!). The final scenes of the ballet see the stunning Pas de Deux between the Sugar Plum Fairy and her prince, and the famous 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy'. Her poise and grace was stunning. The ballet ends with Clara and the Nutcracker Prince flying home for morning.

I have to say, it moved me to tears. I can't decide whether it was the dancing, or the music (Tchaikovsky did himself proud on this one...) or the redemptive thread running through the story. The moment where the Nutcracker Prince shows his true identity in response to the unconditional love which Clara shows him, despite his outer appearance, speaks so powerfully of grace. It was just beautiful. There is something so magical about ballet. The translation of meaning into movement is so powerful, and you hardly notice that there is no dialogue. When the curtain came down I felt as though I was rising from a dreamlike state - it was simply mesmorising.

I have to say that this memory will remain with me as one of the best of 2010. I urge you, go and see a ballet. You will not be disappointed.

New Year's Ambitions for the Soul

So, I've been thinking about the coming year, and have decided to come up with (as I do every year) a list of things which I would like to do/ achieve/ change in the next year. I love resolutions, and every month or two I find myself compiling a list of things I aspire to do or be in the near future - there's something incredibly focused and inspiring about it. I love to fix my mind on greater things, and set myself challenges, because in the mundane moments of life, that is what sustains me.

2010 Soul Growing Ambitions

Finish knitting the blanket I started this year. It's a patchwork of sorts, made up of as many different colours and weights of wool as I could find, all autumnal colours. This is something I entertain myself with whilst watching a film or hanging out with housemates, and it's so satisfying to watch it develop!

Build up a portfolio of my art and photography, both of which I do for pleasure, and have no ambitions to use professionally, but still something that I recognise as a skill that needs to be honed. I also find both incredibly good for the soul. Art is somewhere I find God, and this for me has been an amazing comfort and joy in times where words have just not been able to penetrate the heights or depths of my feeling.

Speak and read French. Something which I will always be grateful for, is the fact that my dad chose to speak with us in French when we were small. It was his feeling that he wanted his daughters to grow up with a fluency in the language that he acquired in the years he grew up in France. I have to say it has worked! I love that I understand and speak such a beautiful tongue, but I recently realised that I have to be determined in keeping it!

Read more. This is always on every list I write. I find great inspiration in reading, the challenge of grappling with a text until I have really understood it, and have really appreciated what is being expressed is something I have always loved. My degree in English Literature was one of the best things I have ever done, and I revelled in this being my primary pursuit for three years! No matter how much I read, I always feel that I should read more! A few on my list for this year are A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, Confessions by Augustine, Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (how we got through a lit. degree without studying any Orwell, I'm not sure!), A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, Miracles by C.S. Lewis and The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. In addition to this, I'm hoping to discover some new poetry to flood my mind with.

Get an Ordnance Survey map and explore Leicestershire. I'm constantly amazed by what is just around the corner, quite literally, if you'll only look for it. This is my fourth year in Leicester, and now with a car, I have an amazing opportunity to explore it to my heart's content. I also plan on visiting the Peak District and finding some breathing places for inspiration. There is nowhere that I am more sensitive to the presence and voice of the Holy Spirit as when I'm in the countryside. For that reason alone, I am convinced that I need to spend more time exploring it!

Write letters. When I was in sixth form, I had several friends who lived a few hours away, and this began for me a season of letter writing. I can remember the anticipation of knowing that my friend had just received my letter and would no doubt be replying soon. I think that those letters played a very important part in my discovering of who I am and God's call on my life, and were sources of great wisdom. I still remember some of the advice I was given, and how I was encouraged by the sharing of life stories with another. I hope I will always be a letter writer. It is definitely an art.

Explore Camden Town. This year I set myself the challenge of becoming a tourist in our own capital city. This was sparked by a visit to Paris in the spring, where I visited my cousin Rebekah who was studying at L'Alliance Francaise. I love Paris, the architecture, the arts, the street performers, the parks, the history. I was so challenged that for the last few years I have lived within two hours of London and yet have never really immersed myself in its culture. So that is what I have spent some of this year doing. I bought myself a guidebook, and on each visit, I explored a different area of the capital. I have stayed mostly in the City of London, but this year I would like to branch out a little. First on my list is Camden Town.

Cook something new once a week. In our house we share the cooking, and I love this. It means that I have the pleasure of being fed by some pretty amazing cooks, and also, when it is my turn to cook, I find myself much more adventurous when cooking for myself! So, I have decided to capitalise on this, and discover some new recipes!

Go out for lunch alone. A strange one, I know, but over the last year or two, I have developed a taste for my own company. One of my favourite activities for the weekend is to take myself off to a quiet cafe with my notebook, or a the book I am reading at the time, and to 'just be' for a while. I revel in the space for thought, whilst being still amongst other people. I have never managed to pluck up the courage to go out for lunch alone. I am determined to do so this year.

Play my guitar. I love music with a passion, but I have to say, I am not naturally musical! I have taught myself to play guitar, but I need to work on it more. I love it when I play, but more often than not I fill my time with other things, and my guitar is left to entertain itself. The other thing is that I'm not confident when it comes to playing in front of people, my guitar playing is something I tend to keep behind closed doors. I'd love to be more confident though, so this is my challenge for 2010, to lose the fear!

Hand make all my presents. When it comes to birthdays, I love buying presents. There's something so deliciously secretive about choosing a present for someone else. I also love to hand make presents, but never leave myself enough time to do so. This year, my challenge is to hand make every present that I give away.

Explore Leicester's many unique cultures. Living in such a diverse and interesting city, I often feel that I don't really make the most of it. This year I want to immerse myself in a some of Leicester's cultural heritage and learn to understand and appreciate what makes them unique.

Make more of the little moments. Again, this is something I am always challenging myself to do. The pace of life is so fast, that I don't find time to enjoy little moments like brewing tea or watching birds take off, or noticing the cloud formations, or really enjoying what it is that I am doing. I want to learn to live in the moment, but with my eyes heavenward. That is, I want to be able to truly relish the moment that I am living in, whilst being aware of what God is doing, and saying. The last thing I wish to be said of me is that I rushed around, I did too much, and that I didn't really make the most of what it was I was doing.

That's the list, or the beginning of it at least. I think I'd better get started...

I'll keep you posted!