The body as a temple?

As I sit here recovering from having my gallbladder removed, I'm reminded of the duty I have to myself and my family to keep the body I was blessed with in the best condition I can. Which isn't easy because:

1) my parents were steeped in post-war dietary habits when I was young including bread and beef dripping, fried bacon with white bread smeared in lard from the frying pan, deep fried chipped potatoes and egg cooked in the same pan (did I mention had to have my gallbladder out?!)

Pure beef fat! Once used to fill hungry tummies as a last resort.

2) I like chocolate. And cheese. Especially cheese. Exploring a low fat diet over the past decade has not been simple. I lack willpower even when I know foods are harmful.

3) I am limited by the exercise I can do. I would love to go on long hikes but I don't have time, I can no longer swim comfortably due to pelvic problems, it's a hassle to get to the early morning aerobic class I can attend (see note above on willpower)

4) I'm human!

Nevertheless, I feel I owe it to my family, the congregation I minister to, the hospital I volunteer in and most of all myself to do my best on this one, keep moving as much as possible and eat (and drink!) healthily so that nothing is in the way of me doing my work here on this earth. A lot of it is about honouring God but I feel I owe it to myself too, to be kind to my body, to expose it to good nutrients (as well as a small amount of indulgence because I want to fully experience life). And luckily there are other people around to help me do that.

Although I don't need to be gluten or dairy free I'm inspired by people like Amelia Freer and Deliciously Ella who help me pack protein, vitamins and minerals in my body and make it tasty too - breakfast pots with chia seeds, oats, yogurt and fruit are like a dessert in taste and so brilliant. Jamie Oliver's new book is on my Christmas list too; he is currently on a crusade for us to consume less refined sugar, which I find helps with not only my energy levels and my temperament!

Inspiring stuff

I have always found that feeding other people feeds me; I love the creative process of entertaining, in particular. Being able to see others enjoy wonderful food is a special gift. Hospitality is crucial for creating a space where people can comfortably develop relationships, learn new things and feel that they have had a blessing bestowed on them. Attending a church course where we were fed bread and soup illustrated mission in action so simply and effectively to me. Reading about the Thistle Stop Cafe in the Church Times this week reminded me how I important I think this type of behaviour is. There is plenty of other writing on this - I think in particular of my copy of Shauna Niequist's "Bread and Wine".

To go off on a tangent, it strikes me in the 21st century that although some people simply need a generic type of physical - as well as spiritual - sustenance, because they are hungry, we might need to practice food inclusivity for coeliacs, vegans, vegetarians, diabetics and others who need specific types of feeding. I remember reading that we may pat ourselves on the back for using fruit as a prop in children's ministry rather than candy, but this does not help if we have a diabetic kid in our midst. It's about meeting people where they are, in a way, showing them we care, and teaches us patience when it can seem difficult or that certain diets are awkward. St John's Church in Carrington, Nottingham has introduced gluten-free Holy Communion where it is necessary. I hope to bake a gluten-free apple or rhubarb crumble for our Harvest Supper - just in case! Ooh, how about a maple syrup and oat crumble - getting excited now! I miss being able to plan and make beautiful, tasty food which is also healthful:

Chia pots topped with peach, honey and vanilla
compote and sprinkled with seeds.

It's not long since my general anaesthetic and subsequent morphine haze so this post is all over the place, but I think my message is this - serving food feeds the stomach, the mind, and the soul. I strive to do this and hope I can encourage others to do so, whether they are culinary whizzes or not. And if cooking for large numbers in a home or faith setting feels intimidating, you only need something like Sarah Stancliffe's 'The Christian Aid Book of Simple Feasts: Cooking for a Crowd Through the Christian Year.'

Harvest Supper, here I come :-)

And you will honour him.

Yes, I know it's been aeons since I blogged. 

But we've had Advent, a house move and Christmas since then! 

Yes, a house move - not far from our old abode, but a big, big change, nevertheless. A big, positive change, in so many ways. We have more space, more bedrooms, more bathrooms and it does mean that life feels easier (despite not being able to find the exact thing I want out of a box at the exact time I need it, obviously.) We can walk easily to the town, Church and school and the whole experience feels healthier and more community-centred. I can walk down the street and see people I know and who are friendly. (This is all in addition to the fact that we no longer live in a house attached to another house that contained two people who did not contribute at all to my quality of life). I feel truly blessed.

But I didn't dip in to blog about the house move. Rather I wanted to dwell a little on my word for 2012, which is HONOUR. We don't think that much about honour, these days. It remains something biblical, or royal, or something which you do for your husband. But I'm going to reclaim honour for 2012.

I'm mainly going to put in a lot of work trying to honour the Lord our God, not only in prayer and thought but in ACTION. I'm pretty well practised in offering up all sorts of praise in the shower cubicle, before emerging and revisiting the same old patterns of anger and non-appreciation during my day. I'm going to try to stay THANKFUL and PRAISING and PATIENT as much as I possibly can, for His sake - to HONOUR Him.

It's easy to know this as I sit typing, looking out over the roofs of our town and hearing the shouts of schoolchildren playing on the wind. But I'm finding it not only in the joy of a new house, but the water that comes out of a tap, the warmth from a boiler, the feel of a new bedsheet and the closeness of a family. I am blessed with such amazing things, I need to ensure I appreciate them and demonstrate my gratitude by Honouring God....by ensuring my demeanour stays grateful and appreciative, by offering up thanks, by doing and thinking things in His name.

Luckily the Holy Spirit seems to have bestowed self-control on me this year already, and the Christmas holidays have allowed me to slow down and appreciate the pace of life, and not to focus on too many things. Getting the kids back to school this morning was tricky, but not overwhelming, and I wasn't yelling. THIS is how I need to honour him - in the moments of difficulty. Remembering to discipline with love. Remembering WHY the situation makes me angry and to offer that up. To raise a patient, peaceful house - a happy home.

LORD our God, other lords besides you have ruled over us, but your name alone do we honour. (Isaiah 26:12-14)

10 Facts....about my husband and me

Inspired by Betty Beguiles

1.

When I was 14 I started hanging out with a boy in the year above at school. He'd been dating another girl. Not long afterwards he started dating her again. Yes, pretty short-lived! But our time was to come...

2.

I was 21 when we met again at the opening of a local pub/restaurant where I was working as a waitress. We had both just moved back home after finishing our university degrees. He told his friend that night that he wanted to marry me. I believe this amused me no end!

3.

He got a job where I worked and after a couple of weeks finally asked me out on a date. I had sworn off men big style but after our first couple of dates I was absolutely smitten. Within weeks we were inseparable. That was almost fifteen years ago.

4.

He supported me as I continued my studies and moved job and home to be with me for the duration of my PhD. Now he is supporting me in my path to ministry. I am utterly convinced God made us to be together.

5.

I actually, officially, asked him to marry me on February 29th, 2000. (Traditionally women are 'allowed' to propose on that date. Not that I was a traditionalist then!) We were married that same year.

6.

I feel like we've grown and grown up together. I remember renting our first place, buying our first house. Songs, stories and movies that we've shared. He let me learn to drive in his car. He's held my hand in so many ways. (Not least me digging my nails in during labour!)

7.

There are too many songs that mean something to list here. But we walked down the aisle to Suzanne Vega's 'World Before Columbus'. I still feel like everything in life was given colour when we started our relationship. And more so as I came to know God and motherhood in the context of our marriage.

8.

There is not room to describe all the things he does for me. The main thing is, he does them uncomplaining, just to help me.

9.

We never even thought we would be blessed with one child. Now we have three. Girls. (Pray for him during their teenage years, will you?) And that may not be the end!

10.

Last year we celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. Not with fireworks, a party or a trip to Paris. But with a quiet lunch together at the place of our first date while the newborn slept in the buggy next to the table. Happiness.

~

Post your own ten facts over at Betty's.
There's such joy in remembering these moments.

A relaxing break in the forest....

Yeah, relaxing, right! Although I *do* feel relaxed in some ways. And I wasn't planning to write about it, but when I sat down to blog about planning simplicity in Lent, loads of wireless network bobbins meant that I only have about enough mental capacity to list a few things that will remain in me after our Sherwood Forest break.....

• My 6 month old Rebecca resolutely tried (and failed) to fight off a cold, and was below par for the entire holiday, sleeping more and eating less, but was ecstatically happy for about one hour, bobbing about in her inflatable seat in the pool with her family.
  
  
  
  
• Getting 3 girls ready in the busy pool changing rooms at peak time (it's school holidays in the UK) was crazy, even with husband's help; the one we managed to get changed in didn't have a changing station for the baby, and afterwards there were no family rooms so we all squeezed into an 'adult' changing room....which was not fun!
  
  
• It was partly due to this and partly due to Rebecca's cold that once the grandparents went home, the big girls only went swimming one at a time with their Daddy. It did strike me that if we had gone to the pool with Mum, Dad, a 6yo, 4yo and 6 month old, we would have been breaking the rules - apparently you need one responsible adult for EACH child under 5 (and one adult per 2 kids over 5 - if that makes sense.) Although taking them altogether isn't straightforward, it would be doable, without those rules - I don't know what bigger families would do (not that I saw any - where do bigger families go on holiday - do they go on holiday? and if they do, maybe they go camping like we do?
  
  
• All this aside, one of the best bits of the vacation was being told by my 6 year old that I had to go with her to the outside bit of the pool and swimming through to a steamy, outdoor, forest setting with a pretend waterfall and beautiful view. It was pretty awesome.
  
  
• The other best bit was the two bigger girls getting on really well. Obviously we paid for it when we came home today but, compared to the two weeks at Christmas when they fought like cat and dog every minute, this was blissful. They played, drew, listened to stories, watched TV, cycled, swam, talked, sang and danced together. TOGETHER.
  
  
  
  
• I love to cook and bake, prepare food for my family and take care of their needs. But I loved not having to cook this holiday. I loved being able to order the fish special and indulge myself with takeaway.
  
  
• I especially loved the date at French restaurant with my husband, with jazz playing in the background, a beautiful platter of cheese and meats to enjoy, while the grandparents babysat. This was our first date since before the birth of baby Rebecca. It was long overdue.
  
  
• Finally, as a way of leading into the Lenten preparation, I will comment on the simplicity of it all. We didn't really budget strictly, so parts of it were indulgent. But others were focused on living simply and on simple pleasures. We lived off leftovers for lunch. We appreciated the squirrels, mallards and swans that came up to the french windows to visit. We stuck with early bedtimes (and early mornings.) We just did one activity a day, and some hanging out. The girls enjoyed drawing together, and separately, on the long chalkboard in our accommodation. We read stories. We read the baby stories. We enjoyed each others' company. We didn't have the use of computers or WiFi (although I still dipped into Facebook and Twitter on my BlackBerry.) All in all, it was a family holiday. And I feel pretty exhausted, but I know that part of me is very much refreshed.

Yeah, spot the camera flash reflecting on the windows :-)

Blessed are the children

OK, no one is allowed to argue with this one - children are blessings.

I may not be as open to life as the Catholic bloggers I follow, but I think I've sussed out why I am much more at home spending time online learning about them, their families, their philosophies and their faith.

They see each child as a blessing.

I grew up in a household which I perceive lacked spirituality, and focused more on the lives of the two adults who established it, than any bigger picture. My parents were never concerned about having kids or not, but after I arrived, they knew they didn't want anymore. Children were tricky; they required a whole lot of attention, and if my mother had another, she thought my father would leave. (As it was, dealing with us both seemed to prove a trial for her, especially when our opinions clashed). Around the age of two, I was packed off on holiday with my grandparents and great aunt, so my Dad could recover from his vasectomy peacefully and in less pain.

I didn't enjoy being the only one. Dad didn't like the noisiness and messiness of children - still doesn't. My mother and I spent a lot of time together, but I feel she still treats me like the child I once was, and we have never psychologically moved out of the very small, nuclear family unit that we once were.

So this has perhaps coloured my viewpoint on children. Interestingly, I never gave much thought to having them myself until I met my husband. When it took us years to conceive, I suddenly became more desperate and tried to understand God's plan for us. I didn't desire a larger family; I just wanted a baby.


When a daughter arrived, I was delighted. But it was a steep learning curve. Life was now impossible to plan. Thankfully the gifts of patience, flexibility, humility and spontaneity were bestowed upon me. I learned to put my perfectionism and control issues aside.

And despite the difficulties, we desired to gift our firstborn with a sibling. Luckily this was part of God's plan, too. Daughter1 was just past 18 months when Daughter2 was born. Having them this bunched together was extremely hard work. But, I never doubted the joys. Yet, I never expected to have another.

Whether or not people condone the way we have undertaken family planning, I truly believe our children have been born according to God's plan. Daughter3 arrived last August, four years after her nearest sister. She is a treasure and our family is enriched - and exhausted - beyond bounds. We aren't categorically ruling out having more, even though our current work and domestic situation would logically exclude it.

I don't move in Catholic circles in real life, but I spend a lot of time with fellow Christian women, and several of my friends also have larger families - by which I mean at least three children. But what I am beginning to encounter from people who do not know me or my faith - together with a surprise that I have three children, or surprise that I was open to getting pregnant again in the first place, rather than having a 'happy accident' - is utter shock that I would consider still more children; that I see God's hand in the form my family has taken. And if we go on to discuss the subject, coupled with this is their shock that I consider every child a blessing, rather than sheer hard work and something to deal with, rather than someone to love.

It saddens me that I live in a culture which fetishizes babyhood (yup, a post in progress) but doesn't value children. That thinks larger families exist to live off the welfare state or to cause trouble. That thinks it is enough trouble providing for one, let alone more. That doesn't understand that I can't necessarily chat on the way to the playground because my two school-aged girls are trying to get a word in edgeways with me, and I want to talk with them!

I want to displace the shocked looks from people's faces when they realise that not everyone is fulfilled by living in a small family unit, and that the chaos and sheer messiness of family life can be embraced rather than controlled. I want to reach out to the mothers I know of three, four, and five children and tell them that I understand - it is hard work, but it brings huge joys. I know we are oscillating here in the UK between inherited attitudes that children are 'seen and not heard', and the desire to bestow every material, intellectual and emotional advantage on our children, as long as they develop to their potential. But I wish it weren't so shocking to people to admit to being open to having more children. Yes, it hurts, yes, they challenge us, yes, they don't allow us to do everything we think we should be doing. Yes, being a woman is more than being a wife and mother for many of us. Yes, parenting is a very tough job which needs hard work. But what gifts children are!

Some of us don't feel it is our calling to be mothers, and I'm not saying everyone should be a parent. But I feel it should be everyone's calling to delight in children, to appreciate the human race, especially when they are learning life lessons and beginning to grow, physically, emotionally, spiritually. When we are across the way in France and Spain, our children are treated as people, rather than nuisances. They are treated as special, unique human beings rather than noisy little things who just should shut up so the adults can talk in peace. In my indigenous environment, I don't seem to meet many people who see each child as a gift and a blessing, rather than something to stymie our own lifestyles, drain our resources, grey our hair and tire us out. So thank God for the websites and blogs that I read, that value children oh so much. On some days, they help me more than they would every realise.

Blessed are the children.

Preparation and Penance?: Striving for Humility in Advent

A little while back, I posted on how I'm quite happy that I'm following my calling of motherhood and homemaking, fulfilled by not achieving my academic potential. I'm afraid that was only a representation of the truth. I'm a proud, proud fraud.

Although I DO love cleaning, baking, preparing meals, wiping little bottoms and so on (not that I do enough of all this!!), and feel very fulfilled while immersed in it, if this were all there had been in my life, I'm not sure whether it would be enough.

Although I laugh when my children get confused when Daddy says Mummy is quite clever, my University of Oxford education often sustains me. Yes! I was clever enough to go there, my ego tells itself. And I managed to read a lot of books! And pass a lot of exams!

Although I happy to be referred to as Mrs, I am permitted to go by the title Dr due to my acquisition of a PhD eight years ago, and if people don't realise that, or call me Miss, or comment on my being Dr Standen but then continue to call me Mrs, only my husband can tell you how angry I get! Sometimes I use my credit card that says Dr on it because I want to show off my status, in a very different way that I like to tell people I am the mother of three wonderful girls.

Obviously there are issues here. When I was younger, my academic abilities were championed at the expense of other things I could do, but not as well; I never felt that I had to work that hard at being clever, which felt fraudulent in itself. Few of my contemporaries at school saw academic achievement as a good thing. For years I kept my academic successes hidden away because I was ashamed, and because I felt they detracted from how people related to me when they found out I could use my brain well. The fact that I have qualifications but have not gone on to publish confounds some people; conversely, my fellow PhD students can't believe I gave up my career to focus on motherhood.

But really, people generally don't care (and if they do, they have their own issues with status.) And after all God gave me this brain to use well, and I have, and I may keep on doing so. But I really need to practice letting go of the awards this brain of mine has achieved. Yes, slogging for a PhD was really hard work, and it's nice to have the thesis on my shelf (for one thing, it presses dried flowers beautifully.) But it doesn't define me as a person, and if I'd never undertaken it, I wouldn't want to feel regret or bemoan that I was 'only' a mother.

I know I have had opportunities others never get. I don't consider them a waste, but I don't consider them something here and now in my life - they are like the plaque on a wall commemorating my former self. I've evolved into something new, who now studies theology with a passion but loves, despite her feminism, to place herself firmly in the kitchen. Of course I feel God's hand on this whole journey. I feel the gifts he has given me all come together with a synergy that may take me somewhere else he wants me, if he needs me to.

I found out this week that someone whose gifts, talents and self I really respect turned down the opportunity of a similar education to mine, and it just blew me away. The fact that we don't have to do the status thing. We don't have to hide behind labels. We need to do what we discern is right for us. We have to be honest and humble, like the Father sees us. He has His plans for us, and although the human world may place certain attributes higher than others, He just wants us to serve, as we grow into the people he designed us to be. I've been dissing Saint Paul over at Conversion Diary this week, but he was quite right telling us that the way the world perceives wisdom may be foolish God. And of course Jesus too asks us not to seek the praise of humans.

This Advent I've felt myself being stripped bare little by little; feeling overawed by the heritage stemming from Genesis that we view through the Jesse tree. Realising that even if I mind that my minister sees me mainly as a mother, a helper and a volunteer, then my ego needs to re-adjust. Realising that being a mother, or an academic, or managing to turn in my next assignment for my theology course, is not the important thing. Listening, and responding; awaiting the coming of Jesus; letting loose pride and taking on humility, are.

It's not a fundamentalist interpretation, but I surely don't believe there was just Mary and Joseph in that stable. SOMEONE would have helped them out, brought them water, gave help through labour. But that someone has been lost forever in history. Their role in ensuring the Messiah came to us safely doesn't matter to anyone but God. And that's okay.

Child benefit blues

OK, before you all start thinking, "She's only mad because her husband earns over £44k and she's going to lose out on some money", the newly-announced Child Benefit cuts won't affect me directly.

But oh my Lord, am I hopping, spewing, mad!!!!!

Part of this is due to the fact that the cut will affect families where at least one parent earns £44k - but not families where both spouses work and each earn £80k. So, 'traditional' families or whatever we should call them, where one parent works and the other provides full-time childcare for their offspring, are more likely to lose out, even if it's not every family unit that is fortunate to rake in this amount of cash from one salary.

My own personal circumstances are biased - as a triple-qualified graduate professional, who was earning a good salary but chose to go the 'stay at home mum' route through choice, I wouldn't want my Child Benefit slashed - yet if the earning potential of both parents was shared and I chose someone else to look after my children, I could keep it (and we're talking £2,500 a year now with 3 kids.) And for a long time I thought that the middle classes/higher earners shouldn't be getting Child Benefit when they didn't need it. Ours goes on dancing and swimming lessons rather than shoes like mine did when I was young, for example. Yes, how middle-class. But as well as discriminating against families who have chosen one spouse to put most of their energies into earning money, and the other put most of their energies into full-time childcare, there's a wider, deeper problem here.

Child Benefit was introduced in 1945 to encourage the population to, well, populate, following the decimation of life during two World Wars, and was initially paid to people who had more than one child. It was termed the 'Family Allowance' - it was introduced to benefit larger families, to help them with the cost involved in bringing new life into the world. The subtext read - 'Having children is a good thing. We support it. We respect parents having more than one child. Whatever their income. We're incentivising child-rearing.'

Over the years though, with the increased use of contraception and reduction in the numbers of children in families, the rights of parents to have bigger families and be respected for this have been eroded. Child Benefit is now paid for the first child too, and you get substantially more for the first child as well (the rest clearly aren't worth as much, or, someone figured out that they are going to wear elder siblings' hand-me-downs.) In the United Kingdom, the noise, the clutter, the sheer silliness and physically intrusive spectacle that is family life continues to be frowned upon, especially when compared to the love that kids get in continental Europe, when each tiny person is valued and children are fussed over in every area of life. Yes, people do have large families, but they're not seen as the norm anymore, and if they can't or won't support themselves financially, people have a go. Some of this may be justified, but surely bringing new life into the world is a right, not a privilege; a universal event, not something to be sneered at.*

Prime Minister Cameron has been pushing a pro-family agenda and has a young family himself, so this whole shebang has actually shocked me on a political level too - the Tories will surely lose middle-class voters if they actually do get to go through with this. It certainly doesn't accord parents and children with the respect and love they deserve. It's bloody hard work, parenting - taking money away isn't about the finances, it's about what that money symbolises: that each new life is welcome in society, whatever your income bracket.

I went into a new delicatessen/cafe yesterday with (we discovered) no baby-changing facilities, so ended up wiping Becky's bum on my own mat on their bathroom floor (and resisted the temptation to hand them the bag with the dirty nappy in it). They'd completely failed to understand that some middle-class cappucino drinkers in their midst might have a young family that needs supporting practically, psychologically, and politically. Ditto the UK Government, I reckon. Sort it out, George Osbourne. Now.

*especially when you are pregnant and usher two young girls out of public toilets without washing their hands because they're being difficult (and you have anti-bacterial handwash in your handbag anyways.) You know who you are, Judgemental and Intefering in Whitby.

Wittering Wednesday!: Lost at sea without an anchor?

I can see I'm going to have to alternate my Wednesdays...how typical that the blog has been silent for a week and when I want to spill, it's a Wednesday! (And I haven't had to be inspired by Morning Prayer this week. But we are talking spirituality here.)

My second year of lay ministry training for the Church of England commences next week, so we've been doing a little reading. I've already read Richard Foster's Streams of Living Water during my first year, and appreciated it, but this week we are asked to look at the foreword by Martin Marty, which refers to spirituality not in terms of streams, but in terms of being 'moored' or 'unmoored'.

It suggests, basically, that spirituality which is linked to an organised church or religion is 'moored', whereas the 'New Age' "I'm spiritual but I don't worship" kind is unmoored - a ship without an anchor, as it were. And I'm not sure that this is a useful way of looking at things.

Firstly, it draws a strict line between those who worship communally according to shared rules and regulations, and those who don't. Those who find God in creation, who seek him in meditation, who don't label the intangible but nevertheless feel it, are seen as adrift. Those who go through the motions of church services, getting wound up about who is doing the coffee rota with them this week and fussing over the choice of hymns, are seen as connected. How is that right? How is dismissing the strictures of organised religion in favour of something freer and more personal that works for you, guaranteed to take you away from God?

Admittedly, it winds me up. People whose behaviour I consistently see as selfish banging on about their 'spirituality' and 'feeling something' when their actions don't change; they aren't interested in a holy spirit acting within them or others. But for many, including myself, that's where it begins. My conversion from atheism to Christianity actually came about through Muslim friends discussing their faith; I'm not suggesting that Islam is in any way unmoored (no pun intended), but I didn't know if I had found a spirituality, Allah, God or Gandalf the Grey at this stage.

Everyone has to start somewhere on their spiritual journey. At every point on it, whether finding calm through yogic meditation or finding transcendental peace up a mountain, I tend to think God is there, trying to reel us in - looking for His lost sheep, putting out the feelers, welcoming us home. We're not disconnected from Him, we're just experiencing Him in a different way. Over time we may discover the Qu'ran, the real meaning of Jesus, the faith of Judaism, and start to engage in religious practices.

But these practices themselves can be seen as mere ritual; people go through the motions every Sunday without feeling anything spiritual. God knows and understands why so many people are put off organised religion when it is responsible for so much hurt and indifference. Yes, the Abrahamic religions can offer a structure by which to live our lives - but does that make us any more connected to God? What about the person who blindly follows the rules of a dubious religious cult - faithful, and moored to what exactly?

If Marty had been explicitly speaking about the Christian faith and Jesus, I could understand a little better. Yes, perhaps toying with crystals and never convening with other Christians renders you adrift from the wonderful fellowship of the faith and discovering more about the Holy Spirit. But the author's dividing the world into those who are meaningfully spiritual and those whose spirituality has little meaning in his terms. (And really, who is he to judge?)

The Christian faith & Church of England are obviously important to me, and I desire that many more people I know can come to understand their importance and worship God through them. I want others to encounter the glory and humility of Christ, and learn to live more like Jesus. But there are other types of Christianity; there are other world faiths; there are other ways of connecting with God. Aren't we all experiencing the same thing, under a different guise, at a different point on our journey? Is it just a question of semantics, after all?

This time last year, I asked friends and colleagues to define spirituality. The most loquacious on the subject were largely atheists and agnostics; they recognised spirituality as a human phenomenon, this need to connect with the something out there, but they didn't necessarily relate it to even a personal theology. Martin Marty defines unmoored spirituality as 'self-acquired', but I think he's missing the point. God surely helps us acquire our spirituality, in whatever shape it comes; he made us with the capacity - the desire - to seek for the spiritual, wherever we can find it.

To me, it's not whether my spirituality is moored or unmoored - I believe that all spirituality has God as its anchor at some level, striving to break through any drivel and fakery (and I'm not just talking about New Age approaches here!). It's how we commune with it. It's how we let God meet with us and shape us, direct us and allow us to grow into the people we are meant to be. It's how we let our spirituality define us and run through us like the letters in a stick of rock, rather than a label on our foreheads. It's about whether we listen when we're praying or actually care for the people with mental health problems who come to church, rather than just tolerate them. It's about what our quiet time inspires us to do, and challenges us to become. It's about what we read means to us, as well as to others, and what it helps us, with God's grace, to understand. It's not about being linked to a specific religious tradition or not - rather, it's what we do with the spiritual tools that are at our disposal, right now, on our journey to God. Never mind the anchor - how and why is the rudder being steered?

~

(By the way I would thoroughly recommend Streams of Living Water as a read!)

Happy Birthday Mother Mary!

Well, it was going to be Wordless Wednesday, but I haven't yet downloaded the September photos , and after going to Morning Prayer at our Church with Becky (who just slept - our current running joke is that she will think she never leaves her house) I felt compelled to write.

Most people I know are aware I'm I'm baptised in the Church of England, I think, (Anglican/Episcopalian, to narrow it down) although some of my best friends literally are Methodists, and I have some leanings which are very Catholic. During the first few weeks of Rebecca Mary's life, when I was dealing with long and difficult night feeds, I had August's copy of Magnificat propped alongside me and it helped me immensely, as do the words of bloggers such as Kate Wicker & Sarah Reinhardt, dedicated Catholic wives, moms & writers gifted with incredible and helpful insight.

Although in the Church of England we don't perceive Mary in quite the same way as Catholics do, today's Morning Prayer was devoted to her, as we celebrate her birthday on 8 September, and it took place next to the Lady Chapel, which is dedicated to her and is a special place of healing in our Church. Prayer flowing from me in front of licensed clergy in a way it has never done before, I was able to offer up thanks to Mary for saying yes to becoming God's servant, & giving us Jesus. (I also prayed for all God's children, especially the little ones starting school, facing new challenges today.) As a mother, with my 5 week old baby girl next to me (who, although two of my great-grandmothers were Marys, is named for the Blessed Virgin) I could strongly feel empathy with dedicating her life and her child to God. But although my children will go back to God sooner or later - I believe they are a precious gift on loan to us as parents, to nurture them during their time on earth - I have no concept of the suffering Mary encountered during Jesus' last days.

The Old Testament reading during our short, informal service was about the Judgement of King Solomon. He had to decide which of the two women was really the mother of the living baby before him (the other had died; both claimed the living one for their own.) He realised that the real mother was the one who was willing to give up her child to another, as long the child was allowed to live. As a counterpoint, Mary, mother of Jesus, gave up her child to God to benefit us all, but she had to see him die.

Today, in addition to Mother Mary's suffering and loss, I will be thinking of all the precious moments she shared with Jesus before he left this world. I will hold in my heart mothers who have lost their precious babies, some of them even before they were born, some of them before they were even recognised as life. I will also be thinking of all the mothers and carers where I live who sent their precious children to new schools and new classes today, many of whom were tearful or felt on some level bereft.

Thank you, God, for the honour and gift of mothering, and helping us through the difficult times; thank you Mary, who truly suffered as a mother, and whose dedication to the path God laid out for her can help us as mothers today.

Daybooking* in the month of AUGUST

OK, so I missed July. But, I was heavily pregnant, had finished my first year of assignments and the kids had finished school. Early August, I had the baby, and 2 weeks later, I feel a little more human (I said a little....)

Outside my window: Actually, it's getting Autumnal, which is mad, as I purchased quite a bit of newborn stuff for Rebecca envisaging that we were going to be in the middle of a summer heatwave this month. I love the view over the fields and woods at the back in the sunshine, and also the nip in the air, but its bittersweet - Dear Husband is returning to work next week, leaving me with the entertaining of 3 beautiful yet demanding girls (nearly 6, 4.5 and 0) and in less than 3 weeks the elder ones will return to school and pre-school....just as I am getting used to spending lovely time together as a family of five.

Thoughts: I don't think I am thinking as such - my mind is idling, between feeds and naptimes. I'm thinking of food a lot. Especially things I didn't have during pregnancy, like smelly, really stinky, nasty cheese. And not thinking at all about the food I craved like billy-o during pregnancy (I would not care if I never ate Mexican again. Go figure.)

Thanksgiving: For the safe arrival of Baby Rebecca Mary. For keeping me safe with my family. For the gift of life.

Kitchen goings-on: Hahahahaha. Ask my Husband. He's been washing, preparing food, cleaning surfaces, sterilising breast pump, nipple shields and breast shells ad infinitum. I have planned a weekly menu and ordered some food for delivery from the supermarket this afternoon. But I'm not cooking. Despite my mother's assumption I would be whipping up a blackberry and apple crumble (the blackberries my Dad picked from the garden went straight in the freezer.)

Reading: Facebook, Facebook, BBC News, Parenting Magazine, HIPP Babyclub website, Mothercare website - what do you know, I'm in a baby bubble.

Listening: CBeebies TV Channel. Girls lounging around on the sofa. Dustbins being moved around outside. More CBeebies. No 2 week old baby screaming for food - yet. She's napping.

Wearing: A lovely button-up red and white summer dress which is suitable for entertaining guests and quick breastfeeding (I mean quick opening, we don't do quick feeding in our house - minimum 45 minutes, up to 1.5 hours, each session.)


Around the house: I'm doing as little as possible. Girls are getting their sheets changed, we're going to try and do some vacuuming today. The day before labour, I was sticking up wallpaper borders and painting gaps in the kitchen wall white. I'm super glad we got the new sink, but strangely enough, household things aren't annoying me this month!


A Favourite Thing: The family. Girls. They're being great. From the biggest to the littlest. All troopers. And Husband has been a hero, from supporting me through labour to putting up with my sleep deprived rattiness.

*With thanks to Peggy.

Kum Ba Yah....

I haven't blogged for a while, as I haven't had much to say. UK politics has kept me entertained post-General Election, & I have been studying theology & 'doing' ministry on a daily basis. I feel grounded, the family feels fine, and aside from the fact that there is a sink to tweak, wallpaper borders to affix, & a huge amount of decluttering, sorting and tidying to accomplish, I was managing.

But today, I'm just a walking hormone. Not the stressed, is-my-blood-pressure-going-through-the-roof of last week. More like, the 'I will cry at anything' situation. I took my 4 year old to a pre-school group this afternoon, the type where mothers sit around in cliques while their kids take pieces of lego to one another. Actually, the kids were fairly well behaved, sometimes annoying other children, refusing to say sorry and climbing on tables, but that was, to me, just the behaviour of children. And not that I've got it sussed as a parent, but if I was so unhappy with my child's behaviour at that point I would just get the heck out of there.

Which is what I felt compelled to do today, not because of the toddlers, but because of the behaviour of the mothers. I know I'm sensitive, but I was extremely upset by how they were disciplining their kids. I get shouty, but I try not to bellow across a room until my kid is in tears. If I'm unhappy that they are climbing or running off, they'll get stopped, but they won't get hit. And I know that some people find these methods of discipline effective, and don't believe they harm children, but they just had me in tears. No, wait - that wasn't what had me in tears. What had me in tears was the complicity of the other parents. They weren't even turning a blind eye, or trying to look the other way (mixed metaphors, I know!), but they were just acting as if it were regular, accepted behaviour that happens every week.

Imogen took it in her stride (I think the Barbie scooter won her over straight away) but was perplexed by the shouty mums. I had to explain to her that her Mummy was too upset by the hitty & shouty mummys to stay for a drink and a biscuit, so we popped back home for one (I needed tea and chocolate!) On the way home, via a peek into the newly refurbished library, and a discussion in the churchyard about burial, death & grief (as you do), she started humming Kum Ba Yah. And I happened to have it on CD in the car, so we listened. Someone's crying, Lord, Kum Ba Yah. And that's all I can do on this one, ask God to stop by and take action, because I feel all at sea. Yes, I can avoid the places that upset me and try not to replicate the behaviours I see. I can strive to do my best to serve my family, and set an example to others. But what about the other families, whose kids see and hear this violence as standard? How can I possibly reach them, when what they do is so firmly entrenched?

Hear my prayer, oh Lord, hear my prayer.

When Pharoah finally let the people go, God did not lead them along the main road that runs through Philistine territory, even though that was the shortest route to the Promised Land.

Exodus 13, V 17.

I sometimes feel that life should be easier. Not that it's always a struggle, but sometimes even the little things can be, like making sure the dishes are done and there are clean clothes for us all to wear. I know that my small problems fade to grey when compared to the enormity of some lives lived (and cut short), but I also know this knowledge doesn't always make it easier to get past my circumstances.

Exodus states that God wanted to challenge the Israelites - if He made it easy for them, it would not be worthwhile. Despite all this, they kept ignoring the word of God. (Our Children's Bible is almost hilarious on this; every new 'story' for about a month began, 'but then the Israelites forgot what God had taught them'....)

It's not that I think that God's plans for me are deliberately awkward though; it's more accepting that life is not straightforward: there will always be hiccups in the road, understanding why things happen is always going to be tricky, and the route to our personal, spiritual Promised Land is going to twist and turn. But these are the places where we learn the most, where we are pushed outside of our comfort zones, and learn how to bring more to ourselves, and to others.

I don't mean any of this 'if it was easy, we wouldn't appreciate it' stuff or 'whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger'. I'm talking about lifepaths that may not always go the way we want or expect them to, times when we realise we need to relinquish control about our issues, and let things unfold around us. I trust God to lead me there in the end, and to teach me a few key points along the way. But sometimes it's easy to get wrapped up in making sure things go 'as planned'. Panicking about the future and trying to make too many decisions in a day are things that sometimes need to be let go (and I don't mean "how much junk food will I allow myself today".)

Everyone surely has a moment where they are derailed from the beaten path, finding themselves on a road they didn't mean to explore. This happens literally, when we take a wrong turning on the way to a holiday destination and end up experiencing some wonderful aspect of nature or particularly entertaining human sight. I have never particularly enjoyed venturing into unknown areas, but I know their importance, and what I will miss if I don't go there.

There is no need for fear or resistance, I just need to follow where I am being led.

Little House on the Main Road

My family know what a huge fan I am of the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House series. I love them for lots of reasons - their sweetness, their simpleness, their faith - and truly hope that one day we will take a road trip en famille and do the Laura tour. (It strikes me that my husband and I were last in the US in 2001, exploring California-Arizona-Utah-Nevada - oh, and Hawaii! - for our honeymoon.)

But for the last couple of days I've been thinking of Ma & her coping strategies.

Now, (in what we know is a sanitised version of life on the prairie), Laura always 'bigs up' Ma and commends her patience, routines, love for her children and constant plodding on in the face of adversity. In the books we see famine, exceptionally harsh winter weather, serious illnesses and more challenges than we in the developed world see in contemporary life. But I've been thinking about what is omitted from the books. We don't see the diaper buckets, the outside privy or the sanitary towels. We don't hear about the hormones in a family of many females, the baby boy whose life was cut short, the severe hunger pains. The challenges Ma faced were more than Laura reveals in her writing. And, possibly, the portrait of Ma realised in the books is a little airbrushed.

But it may not be. Ma may just have kept on in those times and held her family to her because although times were hard, she didn't have any of the (post)modern pressures we face. Dance, sports and music groups, playdates, computers. Worrying about what to choose to feed her children (organic? fair trade? free range?) rather than hoping there is something to eat. Avoiding the breast versus bottle debate. Always facing the potential of being judged rather than supported by other mothers who do things differently. Diverted and distracted by Blackberry or I-Phone. Facing worry, stress or guilt about their role as mother, wife or career-woman. Ma just got on with it, with whatever resources she had, even though she was pushed to the limit. There was no other way.

This is one of the reasons I love those books. Although they may not include everything that happened, they are based around the philosophy of a simpler time where things played out slowly, in relation to the seasons, in relation to what was possible. With a ready-made family of siblings, Ma didn't rely on organising playdates or extracurricular activities - the family could just be. Pa filled the house with music, there was reading and religion, and although the girls followed fashion to an extent, the world was still moving at a slow speed. Yes, we are now more medically advanced and have a 'better' quality of life with more choices for women, but we have lost something along the way, something Little House can remind us of. We can take little snippets and incorporate them into our lives. Eating together as a family. Experiencing the outdoors as often as we can. Not pushing ourselves to be everything to everyone, but helping out where we can, as and when we can. Living for and in the moment. Retaining that sense of adventure that accompanied pioneer life. Not being tied down by a dwelling or possessions.

In the UK we are in the process of electing a Prime Minister and a governing party (or parties!) and I feel detached from the whole process, as if none of the potential candidates understand the way I perceive the world. I know her world is old-fashioned and quaint, has no gun control and tramples over the rights of Amerindians, but at the same time I feel that Laura would understand the things I cherish, and understand why motherhood is my primary focus. God bless you Laura Ingalls!

This Too Shall Pass: Potty Training - a Retrospective

It's not like I'm rid of it forever (we're expecting baby #3 in August), but potty training seems like a dim and distant memory...of a time filled with anxiety and stress; a time of struggle. I think that for Baby Bunchers, getting the elder child to pee in the potty or on the toilet needs its own rule book!

I did make a rod for my own back with child #1, Sophie. I decided she needed to start pre-school at the age of 2 and a half & at the time, the rules required that she be 'dry'. Looking back (and I know mums that have their kids trained early on and the whole 'elimination communication' thing), Soph simply wasn't ready. But I waded in anyway, at 22 months. Armed with reward chart and treats. With a mop and bucket. With carpet shampoo. (And armed is a specific choice of word - it literally WAS a battle.)

And actually, Sophie was dry quite quickly. But the anxiety of never knowing when - or where! - I was going to find her creating puddles was like something I'd never experienced. It took me back to the newborn days, when I had no understanding of what I was meant to be doing, and just stressed about it. Having read somewhere that pull-ups sent mixed signals, I insisted she stayed in knickers despite our disasters. And we got there over a period of a few days - despite my attention being 'diverted' by child #2, Imogen, who was by now at 9 months old very mobile, and very accomplished at wandering into piles of wee! But I spent a lot of time out and about with both of them, and rarely found a cubicle large enough (or near enough!) for me to deal with this easily by myself.

This wasn't the end of it, of course. Sophie might be dry, but it was almost 3 months before she was able to poop regularly on the potty. And having, then as now, a very fruity diet, she used to soil herself liberally 3 times a day - mainly in her pants. I became an expert in cleaning her off with a baby in tow. (And sometimes in tears.)

The good news was - by the time it came to potty train child #2, I had learned lessons & was ready to wait until Imogen was at least 3 to tackle the issue. In fact, she herself 'told' me she was ready by persisting in taking her bottoms down and taking her nappy off wherever she happened to be! (She had previously 'told' us she was ready for a bed by climbing out of her high-sided cot.) And I used pull-ups this time, particularly if we were going out, which did not set us back one bit. Above all, I knew we would get there in the end and there was no need to stress about it.

And that's the only advice I can give, really. Yes, it's great if you can find someone to look after the baby while you focus on potty training the toddler. Washable car seat covers (and a homemade waterproof cushion) come in very handy. Having a portable potty & child toilet seat may be a must. But the main thing is - don't panic! This too shall pass.

Thinking about Lent

Now that hormones are causing less interference between me & the Spirit, I'm finding my best starts in the morning are courtesy of opening up the Bible.

I carried an adult Bible through to the lounge this morning, to sit quietly with my early-rising 5 year old (she slept until 6.30am this morning, which is a minor miracle in itself.) "I want a story," she asked. I'm doing New Testament study at the moment, so we had the first chapter of Mark. It has only a small reference to Jesus being in the wilderness, but also stuff about John the Baptist eating only wild honey locusts there. ("Was he HUMAN?!" Sophie asked.)

So we got talking about time in the wilderness, Lent, and what we know people are giving up. (I believe their Daddy is going to spend less time on social networking sites, something I try to do every day, and is tricky when you have a blog, especially one that has finally got comments up an running.) I explained it's not all about giving up - you can start doing something. We sponsor a girl in Guatemala from a family less well off materially than us; the kids have some understanding of the devastation in Haiti. We give them token pocket money for them to spend, save, and give to charity - during Lent I think we're going to direct this money to a pot for a cause or causes we feel is right. Coupled with some sort of project where we get the world map out and start talking more about the world and others in it. Because asking them to give up chocolate or sweeties isn't going to cut it for me; it's not going to increase their understanding of blessings, sacrifice and helping others like a 40-day focus on the developing world (and parts of our own country) will. The children are just beginning to get their heads around the fact that Jesus made the biggest sacrifice he could in order that the world's people would just love, help and be kind to one another. I figure that giving them examples of that is something that would benefit the whole family at this time.

PS - I might blog about my own personal project for Lent at a later date. Again, it's about putting in, not giving up. As I don't booze, I pretty much avoid chocolate, cakes and biscuits, and pregnancy doesn't call for much caffeine, those things are pretty much covered (although, coincidentally, I WILL be commencing my pregnancy exercise routine next week...)

PPS - No sooner had I started to mull Lent over in my mind than I came across Christian Aid's focus on counting our blessings & thinking of those less fortunate - seems perfect for our family!

Sophie Beth

Sophie, at 4 days old

Sophie, 5 years later

It's funny - because I'm pregnant with my third child, our family has been talking about what life was like when the girls were in my uterus (yes, that's how they describe it, we're that sort of family!) Today this led my five year old to pretend to be tunneling down my vagina, pulled by the surgeon's forceps, before 'whooshing!' back up and being delivered by a C-section. I'm glad she visualises it so positively - I wouldn't want to put her off childbirth or anything.

Then again, it's not funny - because I still remember that traumatic time like it was yesterday. I remember being so excited and desperate to get baby out (at 41 weeks) and disappointed when the 'natural' birth didn't happen, breastfeeding didn't come easily and she didn't nap by my side like Dr Sears said. But mainly I remember this being who smelled of sweet biscuits. Who we didn't name for a few days, and then called Sophie Elizabeth, or Sophie Beth. We often call her Sophie Bonkers now, because she's definitely cut from a unique cloth. She's a thinker, an artist and very physically active. She has a sophisticated palate for a 5 year old. She has such a big heart, is kind and good at sharing, and hardly ever hits back. The way she looks at the world is an education to us all.

So, mainly, I don't think about how she came out. I think about who she is, and how she is already making her mark on the world, and how we can help her fulfil her potential as the person she was created to be. Despite the impatience & frustration I experience in parenting on a daily basis, I mainly just try to love her; imagine what it is like to be her; and try and help her understand the crazy world around her, from her unique point of view.

As for me and my family.....

Well. I've studied social science for ten years of my life, qualified and worked in the field, but since having my first child in October 2004 I've pretty much been a stay at home mother (despite earning enough in one year to pay £3000 off the mortgage, something I just remembered.) This has been wonderful for me, and, I believe, for the family as a whole. (My husband is a self-employed computer programmer & we agreed on this division of labour together - he's also handy around the house and hands-on with the kids, which has been especially useful in my first trimester!)

We don't have a big house, and we mainly go on camping holidays; our main expenditure is probably on cooking ingredients (I kid you not); but it works for the moment. Although many of the conversations I have are about child-rearing, I've met plenty of mothers through baby groups and Church with whom I talk (often online!) about anything and everything - I feel happily stimulated and I make sure I have time for me.

Sophie (aged 5) just started school and Imogen (aged 3) is in pre-school 12 hours per week (which is probably why we thought it was time to have another one!) I also help with our Church's Pram Service for under 5-s, once a fortnight, do some amateur singing, and am enrolled on a Christian theology course. A lot of my time is spent preparing food and keeping house, which are actually things I love doing. Over time, I hope to move from ministering to my family to wider Christian ministry, but I firmly believe that these things are in God's hands. Watch this space....

And finally....

for today, I hope at least. I just wanted to clarify something. I mutter. I muse. I downright moan. But I find human life amazing. And I have it pretty easy. I've been blessed so much, so far, in life. Over in Haiti there is such profound destruction its difficult to fathom what people are feeling. I know this, and our family tries to do our little bit to help. So please don't, if you're reading, think the things I talk about matter in the larger scheme of things. They don't always matter that much to me, but I have the urge to get them out there. I'm entertained and informed by some of the thinkers & mothers I read on a weekly basis. This blog might not do that, but it won't be some long-term whinge-a-thon. The current phase is just hormones :-)