Looking good...

I am a total sucker for Hello! magazine. Give me a latte, packet of peanut M&Ms and copy of this week's Hello! and you've pretty nearly provided me with paradise. What can I say? I'm a cheap date.

The other week I was reading about Tamara Ecclestone who, for those of you with better things to do than read about the lives of other people, is the daughter of the billionaire Bernie Ecclestone. Tamara has recently had a baby girl and so the 14 page photo shoot was full of delightful  shots of Tamara and her daughter dressed in 'casual' cashmere and lounging around at their £60 million London town house (yes, £60million).

As much as I love Hello! you do have to be a teensy bit careful as you read it, especially if you're sleep-deprived, not back to your pre-baby weight and have just noticed a Weetabix stain on the sleeve of your favourite jumper...

In short, looking at photos of an exceptionally glamorous woman holding her baby and dropping such gems as '"People think I have everyone doing everything for me. I don't. We don't have a cook, I cook. We don't have a nanny, we have me. I do absolutely everything with Sophia." isn't always wise.


So for those of you who, like me, find it a tad dispiriting when you hear celebrities croon that it's 'simply breastfeeding' which accounts for their phenomenal and near-instantaeous pregnancy weight loss whilst frolicking along a beach dressed in the merest hint of a bikini two weeks after giving birth, I thought I'd provide a nice reality check.

Here is a picture of me taken five years ago when I was living in China:

No, I hadn't fallen asleep. I was apparently looking 'mysterious'. Don't ask.

And here is me attempting to recreate said photo this afternoon:

Okay, so in this one I may actually have fallen asleep, albeit briefly...

It's the same subject matter, so why the huge difference in photos? Here's a couple of reasons:

1. I do not have a professional photographer, lighting technician, studio, make-up artist and wardrobe mistress following me around in normal life. I do everything by myself (including take selfies which feature my shower curtain in the background).

2. I am no longer 25. I have't had an uninterrupted nights sleep in approximately three years. I regularly forget when I last brushed (let alone washed) my hair. If I wear mascara I feel like I've made an effort.  And I simply don't have six hours of my life in which to spend striking an alarming number of poses in order to find my 'best side' (this photo shoot took about five seconds).

Hello! is fun only as long as I view it as escapism. I am not looking at real people. I am looking at people who have an entire team employed to make them look good. 

And that's fine. But how good we do (or don't) look is only part of the story. Our appearance doesn't explain what's going on below the surface. It may hint at it (or, in the case of my under-eye bags, scream at it) but our appearance isn't the total sum of who we are. Thank goodness.

There's a rather fabulous verse which comes in the Old Testament. God sends the prophet Samuel to anoint a new king and the moment Samuel sees the eldest son of the family he thinks, 'That's him. That's our guy. Strong. Sexy. Self-assured. Everything about him screams 'Follow me!' '. But God said, 'Nope. That's not the guy.' 

So then the next son turns up. And Samuel thinks, 'Okay. Less braun but clearly more brains. He's wearing glasses so must be clever. Smart tailoring, clearly successful in business. A self-made man. This is our next king.' But again God says nope.

Finally after viewing seven sons, the youngest is brought before Samuel. His father had nearly forgotten about him. But the moment Samuel sees him God says, 'That's him. That's my guy.' 

And God's reason for choosing this chap (David of in case you're wondering) is this, 

'The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.' 

So when others see a tired mother in slightly shapeless clothes (or casual cashmere - I don't want to assume...), God sees your passions, talents, secret desires and so much more. God sees the real you. And whilst others will undoubtedly be making judgements based on your appearance, can I suggest that the only judgement worth caring anything about is God's. 

Pain

It is 1.38am and I am awake. There's not anything too unusual about this - I am, after all, the mother of a baby.

What is unusual about this morning is that she is happily snoring next door.

I am awake because I have acute earache. And by acute, I mean toe-curling, pillow-pounding, silent tears streaming earache. And I've now had this pain for over a week. Despite being prescribed a selection of antibiotics and taking a cocktail of painkillers, nothing seems to be able to stop the relentless pounding in my inner left ear.

As a generally well person I've never really had much cause to think about illness or pain. Whenever the odd cold or strained shoulder has entered my life I've gobbled a couple of paracetamol and happily trotted on with my life.

Now I don't profess that my current week-long, non life threatening earache in any way compares to the millions of people currently suffering serious illnesses, but it has given me cause to pause and reflect on their lot. Here are some of my thoughts:

- illness is a lonely thing. Not only can others simply not understand the pain that you're feeling, but, very often, they don't really want to. No matter how well meaning, when someone asks 'How are you?' they don't want a graphic description of the agony that you currently feel. It puts them in an awkward situation: what do they say? What should they say? And so you start minimising what you're feeling saying things like, 'Oh I'm okay. Bit sore. But mustn't grumble.' All of which builds barriers between you and them.

- illness strips you of hope. In my rational, pain-free moments I know that earache is a generally fixable problem. It really won't last forever. But at 3am when the pain overwhelms, dark thoughts so easily creep in. 'What if this is it? What if I never get better? What if the doctor's can't fix it?' And you begin to resent those who apparently have pain-free lives.

- illness really ruins good theology. The moment I'm in pain I start to question whether God really loves me. 'Why would he let this happen? Aren't I a good person? Is he punishing me? Why doesn't he cure me?'. I no longer want to debate the now and not yet of the Kingdom, I just want to get better.  End of.

- it's hard to be a nice person when you're ill. I have lost my temper so often in the past week simply because I am in so much pain. Grappling to put on my toddler's shoes isn't just irritating, it's agony. And so I snap and verbally lash out and then feel overwhelmed by guilt.

Which is all well and... depressing, frankly. So what now?

To be honest I'm not in the mood to 'learn' anything from my earache. Ending with a cheery, 'And so the lesson of this story is...' would be far too false and take too much effort.

But deep down (in those moments when my pain killers are taking the edge off the throbbing) my hope is that this experience would soften me. Make me more compassionate to those that are ill. I hope that in time I would insist on an honest response to my question of 'How are you?' and then not shy away from the answer.

Essentially I hope that I will learn to 'weep with those who weep' and, in doing so, become in some small way more like the One who is with me in the early hours and who weeps with me.

No big thing...

If you are a parent of a pre-schooler you will, in all likelihood, recognise this chap:

His name is Flop and he is the companion of a young bunny named Bing. This TV show revolves around everyday occurrences such as going to the park or baking cakes and is absolutely adored by my two year old. [Actually my three month old finds it pretty riveting too, but I suspect that's more for the colours than the plot...]

Anyway I find watching each episode both relaxing and troubling in equal measure. It's relaxing because, for five minutes, I can switch off and outsource the job of parenting to the TV. [Less of the judgment people, I've yet to meet a parent who doesn't do this...]

The troubling element comes from watching Flop at work. This is a man/sack thing who never, ever looses his temper. It doesn't matter what Bing does, Flop remains calmly in control.

So far I've seen Bing break several of his favourite toys, cause the bath to overflow, have a toilet-related accident and offend at least two of his friends. And yet throughout it all Flop keeps his calm. He never raises his voice. Never snaps. Never even grumbles. Instead he offers wisdom such as , 'Don't worry Bing, it's no big thing...'  [To which my sarcastic inner dialogue responses, 'Really Flop? REALLY? Is causing a bath to overflow really no big thing? Clearly you don't pay the bills...']

Suffice to say that I've come to the only logical conclusion: the show's creator obviously intended Flop to be a Christ-like figure. Either that or an alien. He is clearly not human.

I'm lucky if I make it to breakfast without loosing my temper. And a whole day? Nope. And I defy anyone with a toddler to say otherwise.

A large part of the problem comes because I so often feel unappreciated. I suspect that I'd be a lot less inclined to snap if I had people - including my children - saying to me on a regular basis, 'Thank you for all you do as a stay at home mother. You are amazing.' And a salary probably wouldn't hurt either.

But then two days ago I read this:

'If I'm willing to do something in church as 'my ministry', but won't do it at home, then I have to question myself and find out what is making the difference. Many times at church someone is usually kind enough to tell me how wonderful I was for what I did... How much quicker are we to do something if there's a little something in it for us -  a little recognition, a little bit of money, a little bit of a promotion... If you want to measure your love life [and by this she means how good you are at showing love to others] watch and see how you treat people that can do you no earthly good [i.e. who can't say thank you].'

*sigh*

My job is to show as much love as I possibly can to my children. And often that love will be expressed through serving them, dealing with the mess they create and yes, sometimes saying (like Flop), 'Don't worry darling, it's no big thing'. Even when it really, really is.

Treasure

Oh my, it's good to be back.

I see that my last post was in August last year. 

This picture explains two of the reasons why I've been away:

Time flies when you're renovating a house (I left the practical stuff to professionals), having your second baby (unfortunately I had to do that one by myself) and generally just doing life with a toddler, commuting husband and new bairn (that's Scottish for baby. I'm trying to include some Scots in my everyday vocabulary now as it seems that she has inherited my Scottish ancestors' fiery locks. We love her nonetheless...).

So why the reason for my re-entry into the world of blogs?

Holy reason: I found a cool verse I'd like to share.

Unholy reason: I miss sharing my opinions about life and watching how many people read my blog. Did you know that every time some unsuspecting person stumbles across my musings I can see them? Not literally. Just, you know, as a number on a chart. But still. It's pretty exciting. And a welcome distraction from Everyday Life.

So. This verse. You ready?

'Even those who lived among the sheepfolds found treasures - doves with wings of silver and feathers of gold.' Psalm 68:13

Yes, yes I know it's not quite got the same lyrical quality as Psalm 23 but I do think it offers a rather lovely bit of encouragement to People Like Me.

In the previous verses David (of Psalm 23 fame) describes a great victory won by the Israelite army. As was the nature of these events, the winning army got to plunder the losers. All fairly standard. But what wasn't standard was that even those who weren't on the front line got treasures too. 

Being a shepherd was a menial, thankless, lonely, dangerous and often boring job. Yes it was essential - people need sheep (who doesn't love a nice bit of roast lamb?) - but no-one actually wanted the job of looking after the sheep. There ain't no glamour to be had at 3am sitting on a hillside listening to the snores of your flock as you keep a look out for wild animals...

Let's just say that I can relate to shepherds.

Raising children is hard work. I know I've said it before, but it really, really is. Really. [watch this video if you don't believe me. Or even if you do. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HB3xM93rXbY]

Yesterday I got hit in the face, puked on, screamed at and sat there throughout feeling guilty. And this was all before 9am.

Having children and caring for them full time is an amazing privilege, but there are times when you wonder if the world's passing you by and all the treasure is being taken by those on 'the front line'.

This verse reminds me that in God's kingdom there's treasures to be found by everyone - even those doing the unseen and unglamorous jobs away from the action.

This verse was my treasure for today. As was my son declaring that 'maybe next time you should draw a cat and not a mouse mummy'. This from the boy who said about five words six months ago.

There's masses of treasure out there. The challenge for all, irrespective of circumstance, is to look for it.

Copycat

Following the carnage of breakfast this morning I settled down on the floor with a book as my son engaged in his usual 'Independent Learning' slot.  He's at the exploratory age.  So far this week I've fished farm animals out of the bin, nappies out of the shower, swiftly rescued a glass mixing bowl from being thrown across the room [mental note: keep breakables in a higher cupboard] and watched my mother run round after him in the garden frantically repeating, 'Darling they're bees.  They don't like being picked up.  Let's just put them back on the flower.'

Anyway, today's activity was 'remove all the books from the bookshelf, carry them across the room and give them to mummy'.  But after a while my son grew bored of this, so settled himself on the floor next to me, picked up the nearest book and started to 'read'.

I'm a firm believer in gender-neutral clothes - besides, the bottoms aren't pink.  They're salmon.

Engrossed in my book I didn't really think too much about this and murmured, 'Good reading poppet.  Well done'. But eventually it dawned on me: he was simply copying me.  He didn't really know why he was doing it or to what purpose, and I doubt whether he really enjoyed it - after all N T Wright is fairly readable, but there's a surprising absence of pictures... But he saw me reading and thought, 'Hmmm.  Maybe I'll give this a try'.

That's how a lot of learning is done (so I'm told).  Simply seeing other people do things and copying them.  We're not born instinctively knowing how to read or walk or tell a joke.  We need to learn.

The same is true when we become Christians.  The moment we embrace Jesus and all that he's done for us we become new people - but we still have the same personalities and life challenges.  We need to learn how to become more like Jesus.  And each new stage in life requires new skills to be learnt.  I got pretty good at living a Christian life as a young singleton, but now that I'm a mother I've suddenly got a whole new heap of challenges: how do I do this with a young person attached to me 24-7?  What does  grace look like in the face of a bedtime tantrum? How can I have time alone with God when my son needs constant entertaining?

Much of what I've learnt about how to be a Christian has come from watching other Christians who've been doing this a lot longer than me.  Here's a few examples:

- I used to work as an assistant to a vicar.  One of the things that stuck out most from my time working with him was his asking me to cancel his Saturday newspaper subscription because he felt he was wasting too much time at the weekend reading it.  He wasn't saying that all weekend papers are bad, rather demonstrating that he was prepared to take drastic steps - no matter how counter-cultural - in order to totally pursue all that God wanted for him.

- as a teenager I got to know a young family at my church.  Her parents weren't Christians and so whenever the boys went on sleepovers to Grandma's house they would take with them a teddy that said prayers to play before they went to sleep.  This couple managed to navigate the tricky path of not asking her parents to do something they weren't comfortable with, alongside their desire to raise their children knowing and loving Jesus.  They kept their integrity.

And the lessons I've learnt have not always been from Christians alive today.  I love the story of Susanna Wesley.  She had 19 children (including John and Charles who went on to found the Methodist movement) and had a rule that if she sat down with her apron over her head it meant that she was praying and didn't want to be disturbed, thus proving that time with God can be made no matter how many children you have!

We wouldn't expect our children to learn everything without help, nor should we expect ourselves to get everything right the first time.  We need to watch how others do it.  As the Apostle Paul said, 'Follow me as I follow the example of Christ' 1 Corinthians 11:1  He wasn't saying that he'd got it all sorted, but simply that he'd be doing this stuff longer and therefore the Christians in the church at Corinth could learn stuff from watching his example.

We don't need to have all the solutions.  We can copy others.

Elijah's top tip

If you asked me who in the bible offers great advice to parents, the prophet Elijah would not have been my first choice.  Or second.  Until this morning.

Yesterday I read about one of Elijah's greatest triumphs.  After correctly predicting a three year drought, Elijah invites the entire nation of Israel to a spiritual show-down.  Tired of their flitting between the pagan gods Baal and Asherah, Elijah throws down the gauntlet.  "Let's build two altars", suggests Elijah.  "The prophets of Baal and Asherah can build one and I'll build the other.  We'll then put meat on the altars and pray.  Whichever god answers with fire, will be the true god of the nation of Israel."  After a lengthy blood bath (literally: the 800 other prophets spent a long time cutting themselves in an attempt to have their god answer) Elijah prays to the Lord and he is answered with huge amounts of fire.  The people repent, turn back to God and a spiritual revival happens courtesy of Elijah and his faith.

You'd think that Elijah would be feeling pretty good about himself.  And pretty secure in his faith.  Here was absolute proof that God heard him and was alive and active.

And yet.  On hearing that her 800 prophets had been killed following their failure to call down heavenly fire, Queen Jezebel sends a death threat to Elijah.  And what does he do?  Runs off in to the desert, throws himself on the ground and asks God to kill him (I'm serious - read 1 Kings 19:3-4).

Why on EARTH was Elijah behaving so irrationally? God had just proved that he could do anything - even send down fire.  The ENTIRE nation was on his side.  And yet at a single sentence from a woman, he buckles physically and emotionally.

I think the clue to Elijah's behaviour lies in the previous chapter.  Elijah was ABSOLUTELY EXHAUSTED.  He had just survived a three year drought and famine.  Whilst hiding in a desert.  And being continually hunted by the king.  Add to that the fact that he'd just completed a 17 mile run in record breaking time (and in a rainstorm), and you've got one bone-weary prophet.

I can relate to Elijah.  Not in the calling-down-fire from heaven sense, but just in the 'I AM ABSOLUTELY EXHAUSTED ALL THE TIME' bit.  For the past 25 months my body and my life has not been my own.  I have been pummelled, stretched (literally and metaphorically), sleep-deprived and on an emotional roller coaster.  Every day I lift about 12 kilograms every few minutes.  And to top it all off I can no longer watch or read anything which has children/pets/emotional music/or references to parents without completely breaking down and sobbing.

So what did Elijah do?  He got on his own and poured it all out to God.  Everything that he was feeling.  And he didn't try to hide anything, justify anything or even apologise for anything.  He just said, 'This is how I'm feeling God.  And it absolutely sucks.'

Elijah realised that God alone has the wisdom to fully understand what we're feeling and to know what we need.  In Elijah's case is was magnificently simple: take a nap and have some food.  Then take another nap and have some more food.  He didn't offer Elijah theological treatise on why he didn't need to be afraid of Jezebel.  He didn't rebuke Elijah for his lack of faith.  And he didn't offer commiserations.  Sleep and eat.  Sleep and eat.  And that so revived Elijah that he was able to set off for 40 days on a pilgrimage!

So that's Elijah's top tip to parents (and actually to everyone).  Be honest with God.  He knows just what you need.  And remember: it's often alarmingly simple.

Sludge

Yesterday my son was having some 'independent play time' (which basically means I had put some toys out and was lying on the sofa with one eye closed).  Glancing across, I saw him giving me a weird smile.  No teeth, mouth very firmly closed.  The longer I stared at him the more intense his smile became until suddenly he started to drool.  Nothing too unusual about that for a teething toddler, except this time his drool was dark grey.  And slightly sludgy.

I don't need parenting books to know that multi-coloured drool is not good and so I went in to investigate.  Eventually I managed to prize his jaws apart and discovered a fairly sizeable piece of grey chalk.  Nice.

As I cleaned my hands and disposed of the aforementioned chalk, I realised that this was the perfect illustration for something that had recently been bothering me.

I judge people.  A lot.  I don't say it out loud, and I don't even think I do it consciously.  I'll just be walking along and see something and suddenly this thought pops into my head.  Take this morning.  We were cycling back from swimming (see the previous blog entry for a visual picture) and passed another lady and her little girl on a similar bike seat.  This lady wasn't wearing a cycle helmet and nor was her daughter and immediately - even as I was returning her smile - the thought entered my head, 'Honestly!  How irresponsible.  What is she teaching her daughter?  And what if she falls off and the girl dies?  Seriously, some people.'  All that - just from a passing glance.

And I find myself going, 'Bekah where is this coming from?  You have no idea why they weren't wearing helmets.  And frankly it's none of your business anyway. It's not like you're a perfect parent - yesterday you let the bike fall over with Toby still on it! [true story and one for another blog post]'

So.  What's going on?  Well there's something that Jesus said which I think sheds some light on my judgemental behaviour: 'For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.' Luke 6:45  Like my son and his chalk you can only hold so much rubbish inside you before it's going to come out and make itself known.

I am immensely self-critical and I judge myself all the time.  For most of the day I'll have this inner dialogue going on:

- 'He's only had one outing today.  How is he going to pass his developmental milestones?  Maybe that's why he was a late walker - I've not been stimulating him enough...'
- 'That's the second biscuit I've given him today - all the books say that childhood obesity starts young... what if I'm encouraging an unhealthy interest in sweet food?'
- 'Charlie and Lola again?  He's going to associate screaming with getting a reward.'
- 'Spaghetti hoops do not count as a vegetable, no matter what the label says.'

I'm slowly realising that if this is how I treat myself, of course it's going to subconsciously come out as I watch other parents.

Jesus wisely said 'do to others what you would have them do to you' Matthew 7:12 but I think I also need to do to myself what I would want to do to others.  i.e cut myself a little slack!  Show myself some grace. Realise that parenting is UNBELIEVABLY HARD WORK and frankly as long as my son knows that he is loved and has food and clothes (not even clean ones) HE WILL BE FINE.

And hopefully by replacing my judgemental inner dialogue with a more grace-filled one, I am less likely to ooze grey sludge on those people who, like me, are doing the very best that they can.