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.

Trust

The weather's been so nice recently that my son and I have been cycling everywhere (the photo was taken last Autumn, but just imagine us without so many layers.  Although the cycling hats remain.  Safety first, people, safety first.).

Anyway, as we pootle along and I narrowly miss parked cars, ferrell children and try and navigate the stupidly small gaps that cyclists are supposed to squeeze through on the 'cycle paths', I've been pondering the nature of Trust.

My son is amazing. No matter how close we come to oncoming traffic, he never winces.  Nor does he yell, 'Mum the postbox!  Seriously, it's BRIGHT RED.  How on earth could you not see it?  Even I saw it and I don't even know my primary colours yet!'.  Quite the opposite.  He giggles.  And points.  And dings the bell (which is very cute but occasionally embarrassing when he does it and pedestrians automatically jump.  Even when they're miles from the road.)

My son trusts me.  He literally puts his life in my hands every single time we get on the bike.  He has no control over where we're going, how fast we're going or the route we take.  He just has to sit there and watch it all unfold.  Whether he knows it or not, he is trusting me to get him safely where he needs to be.  All he has to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.

I find it hard to trust God.  Especially when life doesn't seem to be going the way I hoped it might.  All too easily I question and grumble and try everything to snatch back control.  And yet I just wonder if God's a bit like me on the bicycle.  Firmly in the driving seat, encircling me with his arms and with a clear route mapped out - even if it's totally different from the one I would choose to take.

Perhaps trust isn't so much an emotion as it is an attitude.  Saying, 'I might not understand what's going on here, but I'm choosing to trust that you do God.  And so I can relax.  And enjoy the journey.  And maybe even ding the bell."

 '... those who trust the Lord will be joyful.' Proverbs 16:20

Gratitude

'Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.' 

Sarah Ban Breathnach

I've been reading a book about gratitude ['One Thousand Gifts' by Ann Voskamp].  It is beautifully written.  And inspirational.  In brief, a friend challenged Ann to write a list of 1000 things that she was thankful for - she did so, and along the way encountered Jesus in a powerful new way.

Inspired by this I am trying to be more thankful.  Here's how my 'attitude of gratitude' (nice) looked last week:

- Thank you Lord that it's 6.30am and I have ears that can hear my son's cries.  Thank you that he has working lungs and vocal cords.  And thank you that it's not 5.30am. Or indeed 4.30am.

- Thank you Lord that I have enough food to feed my son.  Thank you for his skills in learning to eat it.  And thank you that Weetabix doesn't stain walls too badly.

- Thank you Lord that my son takes an interest in may things.  Thank you that he didn't manage to pour the entire packet of Museli over the floor and thank you I can afford to buy more.  Thank you for his legs and his ability to climb.  Thank you that he didn't hit his head too badly when he fell off the sofa, and thank you, oh THANK YOU, for Calpol.

- Thank you for play groups.  Thank you that my son is learning how to interact with other children and thank you for his wonderfully stoic nature, especially when that big boy hits him and that other girl gets him in a head lock.  Thank you for the opportunity to witness through my patience and grace.  And thank you for your forgiveness when I fail to show it...

- Thank you for nappies.  Thank you that they mostly work brilliantly.  And thank you that, when they don't, I have Vanish and a washing machine.  That works.  A lot.

- Thank you for nap time.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  Thank you for a chance to switch off and be still.  Thank you for the garden and the peace it brings me.  And thank you once again for my ears which are able to hear my son's cries.

- Thank you for this glorious weather. And for sun cream.  Thank you for all the greenery and flowers in bloom.  And thank you for hayfever tablets, tissues and a house I can escape to when it all gets too much. Thank you that I have working tear ducts. And thank you for how complex you've made my skin and how it very clearly tells me when I need to leave the grass.  Thank you for trousers to cover up the hives.  And thank you that they are not a life-threatening illness.

- Thank you for friends to commiserate with, laugh with and cry with.  Thank you especially for those who are at the same age and stage and understand completely what I'm going through.  Thank you for the ability to multi-task and maintain a fairly deep conversation whilst chasing each other's children, changing nappies, wiping noses and yes, applauding their 77th hand-clapping of the day.

- Thank you for the chance to slow down and appreciate other people's gardens, a fallen leaf, a sleeping cat and that old crisp packet.  Thank you for my son's eyes which notice all these things.  And thank you that I don't have anything in the diary that I need to rush back to.  Thank you for the gift of time.

- Thank you that I can feel my legs and my back and that despite the stress I place them under daily, they still work.  Thank you for my osteopath when they don't.  Thank you for hot water and bath toys.  And thank you for nursery rhymes when tempers run fraught.  And thank you that my son doesn't care when I forget the words.

- Thank you for the many, many talented authors out there who use their gifts to write thoroughly engaging children's stories.  And thank you for all the other authors too.  Even the one who wrote this book.

- Thank you for a safe space in which to lie my son down to sleep.  Thank you for sleeping bags, cotton sheets and black out blinds.  And thank you again for Calpol.

- Thank you for my husband who works exceptionally hard and who comes home ready to ask about my day.  Thank you that he doesn't blink at my occasionally bouts of hysteria.  And thank you for hugs.

- And Lord finally thank you for wine.  And a sofa.  And the latest episode of The Apprentice.

Known

I've been a Christian for nearly all of my life (I reckon I was about 5 when I made a conscious decision to follow Jesus).  You'd think that after 25 years of doing this I'd have pretty much got it worked out.

Unfortunately this is most definitely not the case.  Here's a few example why:

I'm rubbish at telling people about Jesus.  I know, I know.  I totally want to be That Person (the one who seems to convert someone every time they get on a plane) but I have never, ever, EVER started a conversation with a total stranger and included the line 'It's funny you should mention that because I'm actually a Christian.  Let me tell you why...'.

I totally get that God has a heart for the poor and oppressed and whenever I hear a talk about sex trafficking or war orphans or Christians in North Korea I get fired up and think 'I must help them!' and 'Lord, sent me!'.  And then I get home and forget everything in the panic of thinking, 'Bother.  I forget to buy more milk...'.  Even the one very small thing that I am doing - sponsoring a girl in Uganda - I'm pretty rubbish at because I forget to pray for her and pretty much never write.  I then feel incredibly guilty when she sends me letters saying, 'God bless you and your family.  I pray for you every day...'  Gulp.

I fit any Bible reading I need to do in to the time it takes me to eat a bowl of cornflakes (and even that gets shortened when my son decided to throw his bowl on the floor and I rush to clean it up).  I pretty much never memorise Bible verses, the phrase 'meditate on the Word' scares me (any form of silence and I'm pretty much asleep) and don't even get me started on fasting.  I do pray.  But it tends to veer towards crisis-management style prayers.  "God, I have no idea what I'm doing here.  Should I make him eat his scrambled eggs or just let him get down and play?  Help!'.  Whilst I find it commendable that the Apostle Paul seemed to pray for every Christian individually and by name in the ENTIRE province of Asia but I suspect he wasn't the primary carer of a 15 month old.

I am really, really good at developing the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  Providing I am on my own. And I've had more than 7 hours sleep.  And I've been well-fed.  Stick me in a car in rush hour traffic with an irritated toddler who wanted his dinner 30 MINUTES AGO and any thoughts of kindness and peace, let alone patience, vanish in a puff of smoke.  Especially towards other drivers who CUT IN AND IGNORE THE FACT THAT I HAVE A "BABY ON BOARD STICKER".

I could get depressed about this.  Actually sometimes I do.  But, by enlarge, I've been encouraged of late.  My life looks considerably less holy than it did when I was a single 23 year old with ample time to spend on quiet times and sleep.  But that's okay.  God knows that this is a tough season.  He knows I'm perpetually exhausted.  He knows I love my son - even when my voice is going up an octave and I'm shrieking "Why on earth would you want to throw your porridge on the wall?  Why??!!'.

He knows me.

"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me." [emphasis mine] John 10:27

I recently read this, 'Any first century listener would've recognised the nuances of a shepherd calling his sheep.  A shepherd was intimately acquainted with every single sheep in his flock.  He knew their habits, their personalities, and their tendencies.  In fact, he developed a specific call for each sheep. A shepherd could stand outside the flock and make a particular call, and that one sheep would separate from the flock and come to him.  Every sheep had its own special language with the shepherd.' (Out of the Spin Cycle by Jen Hatmaker)

Throughout the constant noise that is my current life, I'm realising that the Shepherd is still talking to me.  I may not always hear him, but he is there.  Guiding me.  Laughing with me.  Holding me.  And most of all teaching me.  He still knows how best to get important life lessons drilled in, and he still knows what's the best way to teach me.  He has a specific language for me and a specific call for me - in spite of my many, many failings.  And for that I am immensely thankful.