tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23857765900037939362024-03-13T21:57:09.284-07:00Good and GraciousSally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-75437465130839099432015-08-03T14:42:00.001-07:002015-08-03T14:42:37.044-07:00Thoughts of a North London Curate - Day 30 - Clerical Shirt Conversions!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After having the pleasure of spending £45 on a black clerical shirt I figured it can't be that hard to convert normal shirts into clerical shirts, so I raided the local charity shops for some 'guinea pig' shirts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first one I did, the red one, was a resounding success, so following on from this this evening I have converted this Boden shirt that I found today in the Barnardos charity shop in Golders Green for £5.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I did it I took pictures, firstly for my own use so that I can remember how to do it next time, but also for my lovely Revd. friends out there who have been asking how I did the red one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So here it is, I hope that the instructions are clear enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">May God bless and keep you always.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Revd. Sally x</span></div>
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<br />Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-34220873387788011162015-07-31T12:35:00.001-07:002015-07-31T12:39:50.168-07:00Thoughts of a North London Curate - Day 26<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T4LBXYn8GaQ/VbvN8QDJ02I/AAAAAAAAAXU/xmbW2UqsBao/s640/blogger-image--1845844756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><br><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T4LBXYn8GaQ/VbvN8QDJ02I/AAAAAAAAAXU/xmbW2UqsBao/s640/blogger-image--1845844756.jpg"></font></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Vicars only work on a Sunday don't they?</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">This week I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by to do lists, sermons to write, toddler groups to organise, people to meet, meetings to go to, prayers to pray, AV systems to learn, which keys work where and remembering people's names (including my own at times).</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Things I have leant this week are that things go wrong and that is ok, all expenditure must be cleared by Church Manager BEFORE spending it and even a 'paupers' funeral can be made truly splendid by the Church of England. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">This week my vicar was taking part in the funeral of an old church member, which was happening at a neighbouring church. He invited me along to watch as it was to be a 'Requiem Mass' something I had never seen before. There were very few mourners at the funeral, no flowers and a very basic coffin. The deceased, who was 85, had no immediate family. It all seemed very sad. Yet what I saw in St Jude's Church in Hampstead Garden Suburb, one of the most architecturally beautiful churches locally, was the Vicar treat this man to the most amazing send off. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">There where three vicars taking part in the service, all dressed in their finery. The coffin was bought in and covered in a beautiful dark purple cover, six candles on tall stands lit around it. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">A robed choir sang beautifully during the whole service, making up for the lack of mourners voices. Kind words were spoken about the man by the priest in charge and a beautiful reading from the Bendictine rule read by another. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">All three priests then concelebrated the Eucharist and whilst it was administered a young lady from the choir sang Pie Jesu. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Such a wonderful example of God's church honouring the 'least', in the same way as the 'greatest' would be honoured. A delight to be part of as this man was entrusted into the arms of Father God. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div>““The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" Matthew 25:40 NIV</div><div><br></div></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Small things done with great love will change the world. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">May God bless and keep you always. Revd. Sally x </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-69824198968061922912015-07-23T09:51:00.000-07:002015-07-23T09:51:55.925-07:00Thoughts of a North London Curate: Day 19<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This has been
my first full week of work after our ‘ordination moon’ in France, and I can
honestly say that I haven’t laughed so much in at least four or five years, it’s
been such fun. I love the team I am working with, they are a great source of
fun and encouragement as I have grappled this week to deal with first week
nerves and trying not to run ahead of myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So what have
I learnt this week? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Firstly I
have learnt that it’s not cool, when wearing your dog collar (or any time come
to that) to run your parishioners over. Golders Green parish is massive with
over 20,000 people living in it. It has two long main roads, both leading to
the A406 North Circular Road coming together at a cross roads outside our
church. If you go east to west you travel between Hampstead Heath and Brent
Cross; and north to south between Central London and Barnet. I travel to and
from work on the North to South route taking me through Temple Fortune, an area
that Steve and I used to live in, and that Steve policed for 10 years when he
first came out of Police Training School. I know this area well yet it still
amazes me every time I drive through it how appalling the driving is of those
that use the area for shopping. They park outside the shops, often two abreast
with their ‘parking’ lights on (hazard lights for those of us who don’t know
what ‘parking’ lights are) and then they jump back into their cars, signal to
move out into the traffic and then instead of pulling into the lane they do a
full U turn in front of you, unannounced and often even more to shocking those
coming the other way at the same time! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My tendency
in the past has been to bless them verbally and with a loving hand signal of
some kind, however when wearing your dog collar it seems that this hand signal
is no longer appropriate and my verbal blessing not quite the blessing I
thought it was! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It also
seems that zebra crossings in the Golders Green area are some kind of magic
carpet affair. Pedestrians are not required to stop at the kerb but keep
walking, at no time taking any notice of the oncoming traffic, and then by some
miracle the drivers will read your mind and know not to plough you down, as
they drive along expecting some kind of warning that you intended to cross the
road. Sadly yesterday I had a close call with a young man dressed as a hot dog,
which I admit did help a bit as he was a bigger target to avoid, but afterwards
I did have to question what a man dressed as a hot dog was doing in one of the
most Jewish areas of London!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The second
thing I learnt this week was how amazing it is to at last be working in a
church which has a High Street location. This has always been one of my dreams
to be working somewhere which has a ‘passing trade’ and other shops nearby.
Three times this week I went for a wander along Golders Green Road in my dog
collar chatting to people, having interesting conversations with people in
shops and getting £3.50 off my bill in the key cutting shop! My fellow cohort
at St Mellitus are having a competition to see what the most random thing we
can acquire free of charge as a result of wearing our dog collars, I must
submit my entry today, but I am sure I can do better than a key.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There have
been lots of other things I have learned, like how the vicar likes his tea, how
you must never annoy Sylvia the office manager, how to change the toilet paper
in the ladies and where the charcoal is kept for the smelly handbag. But the
best thing I realised today is that Thursday is the new Friday and Friday is
the new Saturday. So dog collar away, get the dogs collar on for a walk in the
sun, the weekend starts here! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Have a
blessed weekend my lovely friends, don’t forget I’m available for hatches,
matches and dispatches – not done any yet but if you don’t mind being a guinea
pig!!! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">May God bless
and keep you always, Revd. Sally</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-50063481661343429722015-07-12T03:19:00.001-07:002015-07-12T03:21:02.975-07:00Thoughts of a North London Curate: Day 7<div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fGo17BpKVBc/VaI_NMBWOVI/AAAAAAAAAVk/0AGyrHqByvM/s640/blogger-image--1753184202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fGo17BpKVBc/VaI_NMBWOVI/AAAAAAAAAVk/0AGyrHqByvM/s640/blogger-image--1753184202.jpg"></font></a></div><span style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div><br></div><font color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.7019607843137254)" face="UICTFontTextStyleBody"><span style="font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">So it's been 7 days since the big day, the day when I became Reverend Sally Dryden. Five of those days I have spent sitting by a pool in the Dordogne, in France having a well earned holiday with my family, five more days to go. </span></font></span><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Some time to reflect on what an amazing culmination that day was to the seven years that led up to it. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Remembering the day in 2008 at Toddler Group when Kelly told me I should get ordained so I could baptise her children and she would wait for me to do just that; to the conversation we had last Saturday which went along the lines of "so shall we do this then" as I stool wearing my dog collar holding her new baby in my arms. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Recalling the heartache of being turned down at my first BAP, and feeling I had let God down; but the Bishop of Edmonton insisting I go back again, a year later, this time for what he felt was my correct calling to the Distinctive Diaconate. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">First day at St Mellitus, meeting my cohort whom I was certain were more holy and deserving of their call that I was. They all had previously attained degrees, I had 6 GCEs. But finding that they too were just as scared by the challenge as I was and us all laughing our way through the ups and downs of the next three years. I will miss them all so much, but hope to stay in touch. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">To almost throwing the towel in early this year as I struggled with tiredness, depression, the loss of my father the previous year, and of a friend this year. When so many of my wonderful family and friends walked with me and encouraged me to continue my studies as I couldn't make sense of much in my life at the time. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">How God transported me through those last assignments, and despite everything I managed to finish them and hand them in two weeks before the deadline. Thank you LORD!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">How He also managed to clear my head so I could hear his voice clearly about his plans for me to move to Golders Green Parish Church for my curacy. His plan orchestrated perfectly. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">To the pre ordination retreat where I just sat, at times paralysed by fear; what was I doing and who was this Jesus I was committing my life to? And the rest of the time bursting with excitement, like I was a bride waiting for my wedding to happen after so many years of planning!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The morning of the big day, when we got to the Cathedral for the legal bit, the swearing, in a good way, in front of the Bishop of London and his legal team I was so excited. I took it as seriously as I could but inside I was bursting. I looked around at the other ordinands, so many of them with serious faces, but I just couldn't wipe the big grin off my face. There was a party going on in heaven and I wanted to join in!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So I did! As I walked up the aisle of St Paul's Cathedral I couldn't stop my joy from escaping, I waved to all my family and friends as I saw them, the smile on my face so big it overtook my whole body. So happy, so proud of myself, so relieved to have made it, so excited for the future and so hot, wool cassock and surplice not recommended for days when the temperature is in excess of 26 degrees! But I felt like I was walking on air. The whole day was so wonderful, never have I felt so loved or so sure of anything I have ever done. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The following day, my first services at GGPC, getting such a lovely welcome. Excited for the future with my new church family, getting to know them, having fun with them, working together to share the Gospel in Golders Green. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I love my job, I have the best job in the world. It's been a while since I've said that, but I am so pleased to be able to say it again. I guess this blog will contain not just the good bits, but the bad bits too, however recalling both the ups and downs remind you to look to God through all the seasons of your life. He promised us life to the full, but it doesn't say anywhere about it always being happy times; He does, however, say He will be with us at all times, through the good and the bad. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So here I go, into the unknown world that is curacy at GGPC. The best bit is God knows!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0Thénac Thénac44.752815 0.327092tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-86072487163942307962015-07-03T08:59:00.001-07:002015-07-03T09:05:40.868-07:00Thoughts of a North London Curate: Day -1<div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5PyejVQ9k64/VZay0YW4gHI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/9mHC4YJ-IZE/s640/blogger-image-1527647338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5PyejVQ9k64/VZay0YW4gHI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/9mHC4YJ-IZE/s640/blogger-image-1527647338.jpg"></font></a></div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b><div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><b><br></b></span></div>The day before Ordination at St Paul's Cathedral </b></span><br><div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">Using the words of the inimitable Hugh Grant "Bugger! What on earth is happening?"</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">I am lying on a bed in St Katherine's retreat centre in Limehouse, today is a silent day, and I lie pondering how I got to be here. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">12 years ago I didn't know this Jesus that I am tomorrow publicly committing the rest of my life to, to serve as a Distinctive Deacon in the Church of England. It's just mad, and I remember saying those exact words to God as I committed my life to him on 15 March 2003 "Lord this is mad yet it feels so right, how can this be?"</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">These last few days the words I constantly hear are John <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1">15:16</a> "You didn’t choose me. I chose you." Which is pretty hard to understand in this 'I centred world.' The understanding that this is none of my doing and what I am doing was written in my book of life before I was even born or thought of by my parents is astoundingly mad!</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">I'm really sad that neither my Mum or Dad will know about or get to share this moment with me. I kinda hope they would be proud just as I am proud of my girls achieving their hopes and dreams - in spite of the fact that for 40 of my 50 years what I do tomorrow was neither a hope or dream - not even on my radar! But I have peace in knowing that my Father in heaven is immensely proud of me, all the time, no matter what I do - through the good and the bad. But if I'm honest a hug from my Mum and a "well done Sag" from my Dad would not have gone amiss tomorrow or any other day for that matter. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">It seems when you open your life to God, and begin to get free from all the stuff holding you back from being the person He created you to be, then amazing opportunities like this happen. Not that all will be called to ordination, but we are all called to have the amazing freedom He offers; to be free of lies, hurts, physical pain, emotional pain and much more in order to have the full life He promises us. I thank Him everyday that I am not and no longer need to be defined by the world around me. That sticks and stones will no longer break my bones, and names will never hurt me. Because, by the Holy Spirit, who now lives in me, I know who I am, loved unconditionally. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">So tomorrow, doesn't really change anything in my relationship with God, how we feel about each other. I guess though it is a public declaration of that fact, not just to you who know and love me, but to every other person I meet for the rest of my life. Revd. Sally, daughter of the King, disciple of Jesus, ordained minister of the Church of England, representing the Servant King in all that she does, hopefully (though still a human prone to sin!)</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">I will wear my clerical collar with pride, and humility, because 12 years ago I didn't know this Jesus, but I now know that He knew and loved me, the whole of my life and beyond. I will attempt to serve Him well by doing what he asks, which is loving others. Something He seems to have gifted me in and something I hope to disciple others in the art of doing. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);">So one more sleep before I call the bank to change my name from Mrs to Revd. But that's all of me that will change, God made me how I am for a reason, and that reason is to "<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">love the</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span class="small-caps" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> my</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> God with all my heart, all my soul, all my strength, and all my mind.’ And, ‘Love my neighbour as myself.’” Luke <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2">10:27</a></span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So let's do this thing God. You and me. Shame that black is not my best look, but I'm sure I can style it out! After all I have some pretty amazing black glittery shoes!</span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392);"><br></div></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-31185359227840449052015-01-31T06:38:00.001-08:002015-01-31T06:38:47.952-08:00Broken potsIn my garden I have a broken pot in which I have planted a really pretty plant with long stems of pink flowers that move in the breeze. I bought the pot years ago, I think it may have moved with us from our old house eight years ago. In it was originally planted an Acer, given to me by a friend. The plant died and I moved the pot from the front garden into the back to be reused at some time. It was then that it got broken, knocked over by the dog. It had been a lovely tall, trumpet shaped pot. But it sustained a nasty fall and a big v shaped bit of the side fell off making it not really any good for planting in anymore.<div><br></div><div>I gathered up the pieces, put them inside the pot and consigned it to the area of our garden, by the side gate, called the "leaving the building" area for all those items broken and no longer fit for purpose.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Whilst creating our new garden I was looking for a pot in which to plant this pretty plant I had bought. I had a purpose for this pot and plant. It was to sit at the base of the rear wheel of the stripped down bike that I had planted flowers in and looked amazing. Yet the bike was not fully stable and needed something substantial to hold the back wheel in place and stop it falling over.</div><div><br></div><div>I had no pots big enough do to this job well and was considering going to buy one when I spotted the broken pot. Part of me was sad because unbroken it would have been the perfect pot for the job. Nevertheless I was drawn to the pile of broken stuff it sat at the bottom of. Looking at it I began to think creatively, could this pot be used for something. The actual depth of soil in could now contain was only about 8 inches, when it would formerly have had a 24 inch depth.</div><div><br></div><div>I pulled out the broken pieces of pot, leaving the smaller pieces in the bottom for drainage. There was one larger piece which I left to one side. I filled the pot with soil, and then managed to shove the large broken bit into the hole, using the soil to hold it to the side of the pot. I then filled the pot deeper, 18 inches of soil now held firmly in this broken pot, this restored broken pot. I then planted my pretty pink plant into the soil. It looked amazing, because the pot wasn't all shiny and new and totally fitted my vision of the garden which was to be vintage, old, recycled and pre loved.</div><div><br></div><div>I moved the now heavy pot to the base of the wheel of the bike. It was perfect, totally fit for purpose, showing off the plant wonderfully and stabilising the bike - just gorgeous.</div><div><br></div><div>The pot that I had written off as broken, no longer fit for purpose and placed in the "leaving the building pile" was RESTORED.</div><div><br></div><div>There are mentions of broken pots in the Bible, but the promise is that those pots will be restored. There is such a thing as a broken pot, but Jesus has lots of uses for them. He is in the business of restoring them, he loves them, he restores their purpose, meaning and dignity - their lives.</div><div><br></div><div>We all may find ourselves at times on the "leaving the building" pile but Jesus spends a lot of time around that pile, taking us from that place and putting us back together held with the glue of his love, mercy and grace.</div><div><br></div><div>I love my broken pot, and Jesus loves me, his broken pot.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fRztDSVCg8c/VMzo9Y6v3NI/AAAAAAAAAUw/1LEWx81TMA4/s640/blogger-image--776082302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fRztDSVCg8c/VMzo9Y6v3NI/AAAAAAAAAUw/1LEWx81TMA4/s640/blogger-image--776082302.jpg"></a></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-89053553473968734112014-12-18T01:59:00.001-08:002014-12-18T01:59:33.645-08:00We have no time to stand and stare....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eB8f24C44Ws/VJKlDstJf_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/W7ppgZSw2Is/s1600/old%2Bman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eB8f24C44Ws/VJKlDstJf_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/W7ppgZSw2Is/s1600/old%2Bman.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's an
old man who lives round my way who daily sits on front garden walls or just
stands on the pavement watching the world go by. I never know what wall he is
going to turn up on as I walk back and forth to work or see him as I look out of my bedroom
window, his choice of walls is plenty. I
think he lives in the sheltered accommodation just down from the church. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I always
make a point of speaking to him when I see him. His eyes are rheumy, the skin
on his face drooping like a basset hound, he shuffles with his shoulders
hunched over, but in all of that you can see the young man he once was. His
eyes twinkle and laugh when you speak to him, his voice has a cheeky Irish lilt
to it. We talk about the weather and where his walk is taking him that day and
he reminds me every time that he goes for a walk twice a day in the winter and
three times a day in the summer. On his journeys he sits on walls, staring into
the world around him, not engaging with the world, but seemingly enjoying his
very existence in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I first
started talking to him I did it because I thought he was lost and lonely: just
recently I have realised that he is far from that, but am I?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He's very
obviously physically alone in the world now, but isn't letting that stop him
from being part of the world, locked up in a room watching Countdown for the
rest of his days. I once invited him into church for a cup of tea, he declined
telling me he was ok with his own company on his walk. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Am I ok with
my own company on my walk? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have
recently noticed that I have introduced a lot of 'white noise' into my life. I
get up, turn on the tv or radio; his comment today was 'there's just a load if
rubbish on the telly'. I then fill my head and day with the constant drone of
electronic people connection on my phone, iPad, laptop and work PC; I am
seemingly never ‘alone’ - and quite honestly I miss that, I miss my own
company, I miss the headspace to spend time with myself and God. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I long to
turn off Countdown, go for a walk twice a day and sit on walls. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My world has
been made so small by ‘electronic people connection’. I need a sitting on a wall watching the world
go by APP for my phone, which I am sure some clever soul will now invent! No I
don't, I need an old man to teach me about life. How white noise steals your
mind and soul, closes you down, makes your world small. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I feel the
need to go sit on a wall, do something radical like talk to someone face to
face, or write a letter, post it and enjoy the anticipation of awaiting a
reply. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"What
is life if full of care, we have not time to stop and stare" this poem
seems one of the few things I can remember from school English lessons but it
is so apt and true in today's ‘electronic people connection’ lives that make us
so seemingly busy. Thank you old man that you made me stop and stare today,
you're an angel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Leisure - W.
H. Davies<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WHAT is this
life if, full of care,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We have no
time to stand and stare?—<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No time to
stand beneath the boughs,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And stare as
long as sheep and cows:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No time to
see, when woods we pass,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where
squirrels hide their nuts in grass:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No time to
see, in broad daylight,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Streams full
of stars, like skies at night:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No time to
turn at Beauty's glance,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And watch
her feet, how they can dance:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No time to
wait till her mouth can<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Enrich that
smile her eyes began?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A poor life
this if, full of care,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We have no
time to stand and stare.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-48227010218109463432014-12-13T03:21:00.000-08:002014-12-13T03:21:06.978-08:00Living in HOPE - Growing and Moving On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X9FQtf9wmd8/VIwfoZT8sXI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/TLaM5idkwJs/s1600/psalms-39-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X9FQtf9wmd8/VIwfoZT8sXI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/TLaM5idkwJs/s1600/psalms-39-7.jpg" height="255" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The past 6 years have been an interesting journey. The journey into ordination
has been fun, exciting, scary, painful, disappointing yet full of hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God's plans are generally
never our plans, his plans are far superior to ours, often bringing into our
lives things that we could never have imagined ourselves doing, yet they were
His plans for our lives all along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ordination is one of those
things for me. Ten years ago I didn't even know Jesus, I had a concept of God
as one sitting on a fluffy cloud up in heaven, but no personal knowledge of his
love for me. If you had told me I was going to do this I would have laughed
very loudly!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm an organiser, lists
person, I like to know what is going on in my life and plan accordingly.
Recently we had some work done on our garden, and I have had fun making it look
beautiful. Part of this was filling a large basket with allium bulbs to grow
over the winter and give a beautiful display next year. I carefully looked at
the instructions on the three types of bulbs, planting the ones that would grow
taller at the back of the basket, the medium sized ones strategically placed in
between them and the shorter ones at the front in a zig zag pattern so they
would all blend together and look gorgeous. I planted them in hope of a pretty
display in the garden to enjoy in the summer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But nature had other
plans. A few days later I spotted that our local cats had decided to use this
basket as a litter tray, the bulbs churned up and pooed upon! No longer in the
order I had planted them in and very much desecrated by cat faeces. Today I
have noticed my dog having a go at the basket, digging in it, attracted by the
smell of cat poo, once again the bulbs all churned up and the soil from the
basket spilled all over the patio stones. My beautiful plans for the summer
messed up by nature, the very thing I was trying to control. My mind has gone
to the place of picking out all the bulbs and starting again! My husband split
his sides laughing when I told him what I might do. So I told myself not to be
so anal and have decided to live in hope that these bulbs will do what nature
calls them to do in that basket which is grow and be the way God intended them
to be, and not arranged in an orderly way like I intended them to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I thought about it this
basket very much reflects my life for the last six years. I went into the
ordination process thinking so many others have gone before me what can go
wrong? It will work like this, I will go to an interview and then three years
later get ordained, stay at St Bs, job done. But looking back now, how wrong
could I have been. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My ordered life has been
churned up, pooed on, bits of me spilled out all over the place, other bits
chopped off never to be seen again in the formation process that is ordination.
When God has a plan for your life there are generally things he has to change
to make it happen; things that have happened to you in the past, been spoken
over you, learnt behaviour patterns that need to change in order for you to be
the person he planned you to be, and not the person the world has made you. And
believe you me some of this hurts as you lose who you thought you were and is
very confusing. I now see that the reason I ordered my life, controlled it, was
to feel safe, but as Mr Beaver says in CS Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the
Wardrobe, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Safe?”
</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">said Mr. Beaver; </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Who
said anything about safe? </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Course
he isn</span></i><i><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span></i><i><span lang="NL" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: NL;">t safe. But he</span></i><i><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span></i><i><span lang="NL" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: NL;">s good. He</span></i><i><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">s
the King, I tell you.</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the past six years I
have failed, not something I do well; I have upset people, not something I like
doing; I haven't been able to cope at times frozen by fear, not something I
would have thought I would do; I have cried, not something I do easily; I have
felt extreme anger, something I was told not to do as a child; I have realised
that not everyone deserves my love, which is really hard to grasp; I have
learnt how to say no, probably the messiest and toughest lesson; I have learnt
about forgiveness and what a painful journey that can be; I have lost and
learnt how to mourn; I have learnt how to love, look after and respect myself,
when I would naturally put others first; and after a long fight I have laid
down all my plans for the future, and when I did God immediately stepped in
with his plan for my life which will be challenging but is really exciting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My beautiful ordered and
planned life basket has been well and truly churned up, dug in and pooed on,
and now I have submitted it to God I have hope that His plan will be that I
will continue to grow, not in the place I had planted myself, but in the place
He is planting me. At the same time as my basket of bulbs in the garden will be
flowering I will be leaving St Bs, in June 2015 when I am ordained I will be
off to the the place God has called me to, His plan. I can't tell you where
that is at the moment, but it isn't far away. The prospect of this is scary,
but I am pretty sure that the experiences of the last six years have put me in
a good place to deal with all the new challenges I will face there. Secretly I
am most excited about all the dressing up I get to do in clerical clothes,
sadly no Vicar onesies!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God has a plan for each of
our lives, you can't control nature, you definitely can't control God. Yes
these last six years have had their mountain highs and valley lows, but I feel
more like me that I ever have, there is a freedom and strength in that; and I
know that nothing I do I do alone, He is with me. Safe? </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Course he isn</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span lang="NL" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: NL;">t safe. But he</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span lang="NL" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: NL;">s good. He</span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: FR;">’</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">s
the King, I tell yo</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">u.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"</span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For I know the plans I have for you,</span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">” </span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">says the Lord. </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give
you a future and a hope.</span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Jeremiah 29:11New Living Translation (NLT)</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And
so, Lord, where do I put my hope?</span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My only hope is in you.</span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Psalm 39:7 </span></i><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">New Living Translation (NLT)</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-83011875694608548242014-09-23T04:38:00.000-07:002014-09-23T04:38:33.434-07:00But it’s not in the parenting books!<div class="Body">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S9H3WKXUCA8/VCFaPvAFjXI/AAAAAAAAAUA/W-ibvLwWI3g/s1600/embarassed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S9H3WKXUCA8/VCFaPvAFjXI/AAAAAAAAAUA/W-ibvLwWI3g/s1600/embarassed.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Things you don't expect you would have to think about when
parenting teenage daughters:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="Body" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Having
to ask your husband to wear 'sensible/modest' pyjamas and not walk around semi naked in
his own house as there are often unexpected overnight teenage female guests in
the building (of which he has not been warned of prior to his coming home after
a night out with the lads in the local hostelry).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. Remembering
to lock the bathroom door when using it, it seems that not everyone has a 'if
the door is shut someone is using it policy'.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. Realising that you too need a 'sensible/modest' range of sleepwear for those
times when you wander downstairs for a drink in the night, turn the kitchen
light on (if your kitchen happens to be at the front of the house) and find as
you glance out the window, whilst filling your glass at the sink, that one of
your daughters is at that moment being walked home by her boyfriend! </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: Helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why does no one tell you these things! </span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-76604711494335482222013-08-20T13:47:00.003-07:002013-08-20T13:47:41.215-07:00Leaving school and growing up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAWCw9Fod_Y/UhPVSvA73JI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/LQjhmoXlsm0/s1600/back-to-school-ready.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAWCw9Fod_Y/UhPVSvA73JI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/LQjhmoXlsm0/s320/back-to-school-ready.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Standing in the queue in Matalan this week I suddenly
realised that ‘rites of passage’ are for grown-ups, as well as kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This year Molly left school and is heading off into her gap
year and all the fun that will hold; and Alice left school to enter 6<sup>th</sup>
Form and the challenge of A levels. Which left me with the challenge as I stood
in that queue of the realisation that I would never stand there again with
handfuls of school shirts, skirts, socks, and jumpers. In addition there would
be no more shopping for pencil cases and school bags; and no more stitching in
name labels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My status as a mother and provider has moved on, I am no
longer the parent of school age children – how can that be when I am only 28?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s been fun, I’ve learnt a lot, which I guess I just file
away now in order to pass it on at some time in the future to my girls when
they have their families. The school age parent trade secrets such as:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>Always buy uniform a couple of sizes too big so
that it lasts the whole year – especially the expensive school blazers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>If you have to label stuff go for the fancy
embroidered labels, and if you have more than one child who will get the
hand-me-downs, then get the labels so the say ‘Molly DRYDEN Alice’, then when
you sew them in they cover both children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span>It’s annoying that Asda’s shirts are so cheap,
but ultimately M&S’s stay whiter longer so worth the investment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ah the list is extensive and I pray that I will be able to
remember them all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Part of me is glad those days are over, especially the
having to keep the white socks white bit – it was never my gifting. But the
other part of me is mourning school gate chatter, PTA meetings, school fetes,
school holidays and routine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Guess I have to finally give in to the fact that I am a
grown-up, and I’m really not sure that I want to be yet! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-16962675223833204032013-02-13T10:08:00.000-08:002013-02-13T10:08:56.355-08:00What will I be when I grow up?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CSVa9B6V93w/URvVPJgW9nI/AAAAAAAAAP8/A1ONYoh28l8/s1600/Jeremiah+29+v+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CSVa9B6V93w/URvVPJgW9nI/AAAAAAAAAP8/A1ONYoh28l8/s320/Jeremiah+29+v+11.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By way of
procrastinating from doing that I am meant to be doing, writing a talk for the Family
Craft Morning on Saturday; and also because I am finding it hard to concentrate
on anything today, here is a blog entry. Today I have to disagree with those
who claim that moving house is just about the most stressful thing you can do
in your life!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am finding
that moving through life stages is not dissimilar in stress and heartache. This
week for me is one of those where you think you are just about holding it
together, but something inside of you just wants to run around naked screaming (sorry
possibly not the best image to use). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This past
weekend I had a long hard three days at college trying to stuff medieval
theologians into my un-retentive brain, closely followed by Monday at college
with yet another load of information, on some geezer called Thomas Cranmer, to
process. Then on Tuesday I had 24 hours to save the universe, go to work, remember
Pancake Day, deliver said articles for consumption, and get ready for Alice’s
16<sup>th</sup> birthday on Wednesday. Which just so happens to then coincide
with Molly having her one and only interview for a place in Med School at
Bristol University; a one in three success rate so we are told (which isn’t too
bad, being as she has been selected to be one of 500, out of 5000 for interview;
the odds are getting better..). Crush in Valentines Day on Thursday, which this
year will go largely/totally ignored as it is also a study day and I am
treating myself to a haircut in my lunchbreak; and then the week comes
screeching to a crescendo with Molly’s 18<sup>th</sup> birthday on Friday,
taking 20 teenagers to Covent Garden for a meal that evening followed by the ‘piece
de la resistance’ or maybe the straw that breaks the camel’s back; a teenage
party and sleepover on Saturday afternoon/evening. Lord, I have to ask why were
our girls born two years, less one day apart?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All this I
guess I can cope with if it was just on a ‘doing it’ basis, I’m a pretty good
multi tasker. But mixed into it all are thoughts that crash through my heart
and mind like huge waves:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Oh my gosh my babies are now 16 and 18, one
of them is an adult!”; <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“That means
Molly is really doing it, she’s planning to leave me!”; <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“That means
only two years until Alice heads off too!”;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All
afternoon I have been wandering around the house, not being able to settle to
anything; praying for Molly as she does this interview but also praying for
Steve and myself. I opened her bedroom door, overlooked the absolute mess, even
wondered how it would be when the mess wasn’t there anymore; and then quickly
shut the door again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The crux of
what is going on in my head and my heart is “what next, who will I be when my
kids have gone? My identity for the last 18 years has been so wrapped up in
them, I wonder now who I am going to grow up to be? Some of you may know that I
am at present training to become a Vicar in the Church of England – guess that
is what my future is kind of going to look like. Yes, only the Lord knows why!
(I don’t have the foggiest I am being faithful to His call). But I am REALLY
glad of that fact at the moment, I am really glad that He knows why. Having
already ordained my days before I was born; and also our girls days; He knows
exactly what we will all be and look like when we grow up! He even ordained
this week, and will get us all through it. As I wandered aimlessly around this
afternoon I felt his presence holding me. Every time I got to that place of PANIC
took a deep breath and felt His spirit fill me with all I needed to get through
the next minute, hour, day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I have no
idea, nor can I control, what I or our girls will be when we grow up. So I will
just fall back on his Word, which says in Jeremiah 29 verse 11 <i>“</i></span><span style="background-color: #fffefd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #001320; line-height: 115%;"><i>For I know the plans I have for you,</i>" declares the
LORD, <i>"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope
and a future.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Right, it’s time
to take a deep breath, get my glad rags on for Alice’s birthday meal tonight
and plough on through – trusting God’s plans for me and mine.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-8530936596863156642012-09-29T08:36:00.000-07:002012-09-29T08:36:20.134-07:00Today my baby is driving a car!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TuKkoM1gTiM/UGcUNqf9XVI/AAAAAAAAAPk/dF52W1gCXe4/s1600/baby+driving+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TuKkoM1gTiM/UGcUNqf9XVI/AAAAAAAAAPk/dF52W1gCXe4/s320/baby+driving+car.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ok, so ten
minutes ago Steve and I were the proud parents of two little girls aged five
and seven, beautiful, cheeky and fun. Now all of a sudden it turns out that our
eldest little girl is seventeen, going on eighteen and going to university next
year. She is filling out application forms and writing personal statements, making
decisions on how far she is going away from home and where the next stage of
her life is going to take place because it isn’t going to be in our house
anymore – how can that have happened? Where has time gone, where have our
babies gone? I keep trying to allowing myself to think ahead to next year when
we say goodbye to her, but it makes me feel so sad I don’t want to go there
yet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Another step
in that direction happened yesterday, when Molly passed her driving test, and
immediately jumped into the car that we had so foolishly bought her for her
birthday in February and drove off into the sunset to pick her sister up from
school. No more are we going to hear in the mornings “Mum, Dad can we get a
lift to school today?” No more staying up late waiting to go and pick them up
from somewhere. Yes a huge part of me is pleased for her, but the rest of me is
feeling totally bereaved. How can that be true, my baby is driving a car!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“This time
next year Mum it is going to be just you, me and Dad” says Alice, reassuring me
that she isn’t going anywhere, but that isn’t strictly true as already she is
looking at what she wants to study at university, as she plans what A levels to
take next year. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This week at college morning prayers were
about time and how we should enjoy our three years studying; how all good
things take time to achieve. Lincoln, who was preaching said that ‘<span style="background: white;">time is God's way of stopping everything happening at
once.</span>’ Well I have to say that at the moment I feel like time has very
much caught up with me. By the end of my three years studying everything I knew
and took for granted about my family will have totally changed. Molly will go
to university at the beginning of my 2<sup>nd</sup> year, and Alice will go off
the year I finish, 2015. My babies will both be gone and it will just be Steve
and I, on our own again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At this point I think
I would like to ask the world to stop, because I’m a bit scared. I love having
my girls around, I am so proud of them and I am sure their futures will only
give me more to be proud about. I will miss them terribly, but what Lincoln
said is true, God has cleverly given us 17, going on 18 years with them, and
bit by bit, year by year they have been growing up and becoming independent of
us; everything hasn’t happened at once, although at the moment it feels like it.
But I thank God for the time we have had with them, what an absolute blessing
they have been to us, what a privilege it has been to be their parents and
watch them grow into the lives God has planned for them, strong, beautiful,
intelligent women of God.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yes, my baby has
today driven herself to her Saturday job; I am no longer needed at 6pm to pick
her up. But I am so proud of her. She is working, and has been for a year now,
she has saved money so that now she can drive she can afford to run her little
car. What a sensible young lady. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I think for the
time being I will just look at life day by day, the big picture is just a bit
too much to cope with. I’m with you God, one day at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i><sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></sup></i></b></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Give your entire attention to what God
is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen
tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the
time comes." Matthew 6:34 (The
Message)</span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thank you Lord that
you are in charge of time, and one day at a time is what we have because I am
pretty sure I couldn’t cope with any more. Thank you for the pleasure of being
able to watch Molly and Alice grow daily. Lord as they go off into the world I
pray that you watch over them, guide them and continue to help them grow. Thank
you for giving us such beautiful children. Amen x<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-89283154093633837312012-07-28T07:50:00.002-07:002012-07-28T07:59:43.335-07:00Special Children, Special Parents<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LA1p1RujEZw/UBP9g24CaAI/AAAAAAAAAPM/6w57B9RVCAE/s1600/child%2Bhands%2Bheart.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LA1p1RujEZw/UBP9g24CaAI/AAAAAAAAAPM/6w57B9RVCAE/s320/child%2Bhands%2Bheart.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5770234288519931906" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#0000ee;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’ve just returned from a week in Shepton Mallet at the New Wine Christian Conference leading a venue for the parents of children with special needs. I had the privilege of meeting some really amazing people who are struggling with life in a way that I could never understand, yet to my surprise are some of the strongest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The whole week wasn’t dissimilar to my normal week, chatting to parents, drinking tea, eating too much cake, praying for people, listening and crying; the only difference being that these people were the parents of some really special children with a wide range of special needs. My sole purpose of being there for the week was to hopefully bless them in every way I could. Now, after being home for less than 12 hours, I find that they blessed me far more than I feel I blessed them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Most of the conversations we had were about the struggles of raising a child with special needs, conversations that left me angry on their behalf for the constant fighting they have to do against bureaucracy, funding etc in order for their children to have a similar standard of life as mine girls do. Simple things that I take for granted, like my children attending school every day, are hurdles for them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One conversation that has impacted me and will stay with me forever was with the lovely mum of an 11 year old boy with autism. She was telling me about a gang of boys aged 11-14, on her estate who have recently made her son’s life a misery, hanging around outside her house hurling verbal abuse at him as he goes in and out of the house. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As a good policeman’s wife I immediately said “well the police are cracking down on anti-social behaviour at present, maybe you should call them and ask them to sort those boys out!” My first thoughts were to protect her and her son.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She looked at me and said “Yes, that is an option, but what I thought I would do; what I feel God challenging me to do, is invite them in to spend some time with my son. I think if they knew him they wouldn’t be scared of him, maybe that is why they are behaving as they are, there is nothing else for them to do on the estate.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">WOW, I didn’t know what to say other than “I guess that is what Jesus would do” and check my attitude. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What an amazing woman. On top of her everyday struggles of raising a child with special needs, hers and her special son’s life was being made a misery by these boys and instead of getting ‘angry and even’ she was thinking ‘what would Jesus do’ and deciding to love them, feed them and educate them rather than retaliate in any way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I felt truly humbled by her attitude, despite everything going on her life she was choosing to keep her eyes on Jesus and trust Him. Not be of the world and ignore and sideline those boys as it seems possible that their families and local community were doing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What an amazing woman, I hope you can join me in praying for her and her son. That God will honour her obedience and that those boys will become her son’s best friends. That they will ask her, in time, why she did what she did and she can tell them about the God who loves her, her son and THEM!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I look forward to hearing her story next year.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><i><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;line-height:115%">“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbour<b><sup> </sup></b>and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Matthew 5:43-48<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span></span></p></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FNqEiTIqfvs/UBP9UVb382I/AAAAAAAAAPA/UsDKgYcNLS4/s1600/child%2Bhands%2Bheart.jpg" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><br /></a></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-24821168161434863622012-06-02T02:56:00.002-07:002012-06-02T03:03:32.637-07:00Happy Diamond Jubilee Weekend!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mug2wcJgAI/T8nj4WDmm3I/AAAAAAAAAOw/QnuX0ibNQGg/s1600/P1000800.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0mug2wcJgAI/T8nj4WDmm3I/AAAAAAAAAOw/QnuX0ibNQGg/s320/P1000800.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5749376956448021362" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span >I’m sad to say that I am looking at this Diamond Jubilee long weekend not with excitement, but as just another day. I would loved to have gone up town to watch the flotilla and be part of some of the other things going on, but it is on Sunday when I am at work. I have totally disregarded the fact that there are three other days of this celebration. It’s not like me but I fear the Grinch may have stolen my joy this weekend!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >In my concern at being so grumpy I started thinking about what our family could do to change this, to have fun rather than let it all go by, when a friend’s status came up on Facebook which says <i>“getting quite excited about the Diamond Jubilee, despite rain threatening plans for my Big Lunch BBQ on Sunday! Where were you for the Silver Jubilee in 1977?”</i> Her joy at looking forward to the celebrations at first made me feel even sadder, but then kicked my butt! I excitedly replied to this status with my 1977 memories, I was twelve. We had a street party on our road, we all had to get dressed up and I went as an Edwardian lady, my mum made this amazing hat for me and I had a beautiful velvet long dress. If I remember rightly my sister wore a white toga and my mum made her a big shield out of cardboard and tin foil and my sister was Britannia, I forget what my little brother was!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >We decorated the windows of our houses (see old photo of our house above), we put up flags in the street. We all took our dining tables and chairs out into the street, along with rounds and rounds of sandwiches. I remember there were games for the children, party games, races etc. And I think we all had our picture taken together at the end. My lasting memory is how much fun the togetherness bought, normally my Dad worked 24/7, but that day I can remember him laughing and dancing in the street with our neighbours. My mum made such an amazing job of our costumes I remember feeling like a princess. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >The dictionary definition of Jubilee is “A season or an occasion of joyful celebration”. In the Old Testament the Bible speaks of a Jubilee as being every 50<sup>th</sup> year and it is a “a year during which slaves were to be set free, alienated property restored to the former owners, and the lands left unworked”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >I am determined to give my kids some memories this Jubilee celebration, similar to the ones I have from when I was 12. It’s not gonna be another working day, it is a time to be set free, be given some time to spend with my family that I may not normally get, and to do no work during that time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >OK Grinch, I’m claiming back my joy! I am gonna have fun at the party tomorrow at church and we are going to make plans for the rest of the long weekend that don’t include work, staying at home or exam revision. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%"><span >Happy Jubilee weekend everyone, try to make precious memories for your family, so that 35 years later they too can remember where they were and what they were doing at the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee with their family and friends!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span >May God bless your time together. </span><span ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-28103623133630303422012-05-07T01:18:00.002-07:002012-05-07T01:21:13.730-07:00Parallel Universe Parenting<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_DBAuyCG0rA/T6eFVOd8jDI/AAAAAAAAAOg/gPcX_h5CLuw/s1600/brioche.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_DBAuyCG0rA/T6eFVOd8jDI/AAAAAAAAAOg/gPcX_h5CLuw/s320/brioche.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5739702849814432818" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span >Ok, so this is what happened.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >I woke on Saturday morning at around 9.30 after a lovely lie in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >Went downstairs to make a cup of tea to take back to bed and read my book.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >As I walked into the kitchen I noticed it was really hot in there, the oven seemed to be on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >I looked in the oven and could see the light was on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >I then went into the lounge to find daughter no 1 sitting watching an American sitcom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Morning darling, what’s in the oven” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Brioche” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“But we don’t have any” I replied, knowing full well I hadn’t bought any brioche in ages.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“I made it” she replied<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“You made it” I said, slightly confused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Yes I made it” she said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“When?” was my puzzled retort<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Last night” she said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“When last night?” was my even more puzzled reply. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >We had all gone to bed at 10pm the previous evening as we were all tired, I had done my usual rounds of goodnight kisses and tucked them both in. At no point in my consciousness was brioche being made. I could feel myself beginning to slip into one of those confusing parenting moments and I was scared!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“I made it last night, Dad was there” she said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“But Dad didn’t get in until 11.30 I heard him come to bed” I said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Yes, I was bored” she said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >Ok, this is beginning to formulate in my brain, Molly, aged 17, was bored at 11.30pm, so she got up and made brioche. Ok, I can do this.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“You were bored?” I said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Yes I was bored” she said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Ok, that’s good” I said as I turned and left the room, “we have never made brioche before, where did you get the recipe?” Stupid question, but that happens when you are totally confused by a situation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Off the internet” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >At this point I just felt it best to retreat back to my bed with my cup of tea, partially excited that there was warm, freshly baked brioche for breakfast, but mostly totally freaked by what had happened in the previous 10 minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >As I climbed back into bed, Steve came out of the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Darling, what time did you get in last night?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“11.30” he replied<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Hmmm, yes I thought so. What was Molly doing when you came in?” I said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Making brioche apparently, you should have seen the mess, there was flour and $%&* everywhere!” he laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Ok, that’s good”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Why?” he said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“I was just a bit worried that my lie-in this morning had actually been a week rather than a couple of hours. I just wanted to check that I hadn’t been transported to some parallel universe where you put your kids to bed at 10.30 and then wake up to find they have been up all night making, proving and baking brioche because they were bored! That’s all” I said<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%"><span >“Good, good” was his reply, “shall I bring you some when it’s cooked?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; "><span >“Yes please, butter and jam.” </span><span ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-56807623959578491032012-04-15T09:57:00.000-07:002012-04-15T09:57:26.810-07:00Four Weddings and a Resurrection!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s been the most exhausting two weeks with two weddings in
the two weeks before Easter, then Good Friday, Holy Saturday on the High Road,
four services on Easter Sunday and then two more weddings, one on Easter Monday
and Friday this week too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As exhausted as I was I have had the most amazing time attending,
on Monday, Karen and Dave’s wedding; and on Friday, Wendy and Rich’s wedding. Congratulations
to them all. It was such a privilege to be part of celebrating their special
days. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quite selfishly I enjoyed them for an extra reason, that
Steve and I could spend some quality time together after the Easter madness,
and he could meet some of my friends. Our lives have been so orientated around
our family and our individual work lives for the last few years, so
infrequently do our lives collide in this way. Yes, we don’t make enough time
for each other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember a time, pre children when we were out most nights,
socialising, dancing and generally hanging out together, spending time in each
other’s work worlds and in our own private world and recently I have found
myself missing those times and craving them again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To a certain extent it really felt to me that we had drifted
apart a bit, and I desperately wanted him back, I really miss our silly, fun
times together. On Friday night I headed towards the dance floor with some
friends, hesitantly. I haven’t danced for such a long time and I felt really
self conscious, gigging away in the circle, around our handbags (some things
don’t change with time!).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I stood there I heard Jesus say to me “Sally, what are you
doing? You don’t find it hard to dance in church when you are worshipping me,
you don’t care who is looking then; just get on with it, release those fears
and dance your socks off!”. In that moment I felt instantly free of my
inhibitions. I left the dance floor, grabbed Steve, dragged him up to join in
the fun and we danced and we laughed; and we laughed and we danced. It was the
most incredible time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s all too easy to lose yourself in parenthood and work. You
find yourself always having to be the sensible one, when deep inside a disco
diva, life loving woman is screeching to get out. I don’t want to be the
sensible one all the time and I need to make time to enjoy and appreciate my
husband again, have fun with him again, remember why I fell in love with him
and celebrate that. To really appreciate the man God gave me and remember the
vows that we made in front of him 19 years ago this month.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Will you
love him, comfort him, honour and protect him,<br />
and<b>, forsaking all others</b>, be
faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lots of other people, things and life have crept between us,
mostly for good reasons, but it says ‘<i>forsaking
all others’</i>, we have to remember that we are the most important people in
our marriage. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our final dance was a slow one, so wonderful to feel so close
to him and I could almost hear his heart beating, as we danced to ‘Lovely Day’
by Bill Withers. As I sung the words into his ear, it was much like a prayer of
thanks to the two men in my life, by wonderful husband Steve, and my wonderful
saviour and giver of life, Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With Jesus
in your life, and in your marriage, every day can be a lovely day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fancy a dance?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYi7uEvEEmk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYi7uEvEEmk</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I wake up in the morning, love<br />
And the sunlight hurts my eyes<br />
And something without warning, love<br />
Bears heavy on my mind<br />
<br />
Then I look at you<br />
And the world's alright with me<br />
Just one look at you<br />
And I know it's gonna be<br />
A lovely day<br />
Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day<br />
<br />
When the day that lies ahead of me<br />
Seems impossible to face<br />
When someone else instead of me<br />
Always seems to know the way<br />
<br />
Then I look at you<br />
And the world's alright with me<br />
Just one look at you<br />
And I know it's gonna be<br />
A lovely day</span><br />
<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-48468824928713090122012-01-19T19:37:00.000-08:002012-01-19T19:57:46.580-08:00I love you more...<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RYR2aWWEmUs/Txjhv8xy8FI/AAAAAAAAAOM/JVS_W7To8X8/s1600/Fathers%2Blove.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699553542322450514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RYR2aWWEmUs/Txjhv8xy8FI/AAAAAAAAAOM/JVS_W7To8X8/s320/Fathers%2Blove.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“But Dad, I can’t, I’m scared” said the little girl, feeling tears beginning to fill her eyes. She was trying to hold them back, brush them away before her Dad saw her and told her to “pull herself together and stop being so silly!”.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The tears were welling up even faster as she began to feel even sadder that her Dad didn’t just reach out and help her, hold her tight, guide her. She braced herself for the harsh words she knew she was going to hear. The words that went straight through her chest and ripped her heart out and the look that said “don’t be so pathetic” making her feel worthless and even more afraid.<br /><br />But this time, strangely, something different happened. The little girl wasn’t so little anymore. She felt the tears run down her face. She closed her eyes so as not to see his look of disdain and as she did she felt His hand gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. She felt His other hand hold her on the top of her arm and then draw her close to Him. She found herself in the tightest bear hug she had ever been in, her head safely tucked under His chin. This wasn’t her Dad, He smelt different. He didn’t smell of fear and anger, He smelt of love.<br /><br />She felt Him gently stroke her hair. She looked up and fell into his huge eyes. Eyes that said “I love you, I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to be scared. You don’t need to be afraid. Let’s do this together. I know you can do it”.<br /><br />It felt so strange, so alien, yet so amazing. One of those moments that you never want to stop, a moment you certainly never want to forget.<br /><br />Who was this person who could make her feel like this – such an awesome feeling, and such a contrast to the way she had expected to be feeling right now.<br /><br />Despite this amazing experience her mind still wanted to go back to that place of “I’m scared Dad, I can’t do it”. She opened her mouth to say it, but before the words came out she felt his hand gently touch her mouth, and He said “Yes, I know you can’t do it – BUT we can, we can do it together!” and He laughed. He laughed and smiled at her and all her fear slipped away. She began to laugh too, a laugh that she had never laughed before. Coming from a part of her being that she didn’t even know existed. She leant back in His arms and looked in His eyes again. She couldn’t believe what she saw. She saw love, she saw acceptance, she saw peace – but this time she also saw her own reflection and for a moment she didn’t recognise herself.<br /><br />What she had seen in the past, when she had looked in a mirror, had been a grey skinned woman with many battle scars; with life written all over her face.<br /><br />What she saw in the reflection in His eyes was a beautiful woman; the scars were still there, but no longer grey. The colour was back in her cheeks and her eyes smiled and sparkled like stars.<br /><br />Slipping back into childish ways, fearful of losing this feeling she now felt, she said “I don’t want my old Dad anymore, will you be my Dad ?”<br /><br />He replied “I am your Father, always have been, always will be. And you are my beloved daughter. I’m here to stay. Are you?”<br /><br />“Oh yes, most definitely” she replied as she snuggled back into His arms. “I love you” she said into His chest.<br /><br />“I love you more” He replied.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>I offer you more than your earthly father ever could ~ Matthew 7:11 </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>For I am the perfect father ~ Matthew 5:48</em></span>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-81786319984826450072011-10-01T02:49:00.000-07:002011-10-01T03:07:32.957-07:00Allowing your child to fail in order for them to succeed<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv_vv0UJxvc/TobltUpnR4I/AAAAAAAAAOE/7zNO2uFySLc/s1600/toddler-climbing-stairs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658462548637730690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv_vv0UJxvc/TobltUpnR4I/AAAAAAAAAOE/7zNO2uFySLc/s320/toddler-climbing-stairs.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am not a competitive person. We often play board games or the Wii in our family and I really don’t like the rivalry between my girls and their dad. It makes me squirm as they are constantly trying to out think each other and physically out do each other. I tend to deliberately loose in these games because competition makes me feel very uncomfortable. I don’t like how it makes people act, often in a ugly smug way; in a way that proudly says ‘I am better than you’. I can understand the need for competition at times, when applying for a job or running in a competitive race. But I also see the need for humility in competitive situations. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have recently hit a parenting brick wall, quite hard and it hurts, a lot. Molly has set her heart on studying medicine at university when she finishes her A Levels. Now had this been any other degree course I would have been really calm and excited about it because she is very capable of getting the grades she needs. However, for places to study medicine there is a lot of competition. You don’t just need to get the grades at A level, you have to go through interviews, tests, have had lots of relevant work experience and have written it all up and lots of other stuff – basically you have to out do everyone else applying for that place at University – it’s a competition and there is every chance of failure in any competition! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She seems really cool about it, as does my husband. But I am freaking out, firstly because I didn’t go to university so this is all an unknown to me, secondly because of my dislike of competition and thirdly because I can see that there is nothing I can do to help her in this. This is the first time I am unable to help her attain one of her life’s goals and I am scared. My little girl has to do it on her own. Oh my gosh, what if she fails! </span><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I know as parents we should be allowing our children to fail in order for them to succeed. Thinking about it I realise we have been doing this bit by bit all through their lives. Like when we removed the stair gate from the stairs in order for them to learn how to go up and down the stairs safely by themselves, there were a few accidents, but they soon learnt that they needed to hold on. When we showed them how to get to school on the bus and then allowed them to go on their own without us watching over them, they haven’t got lost yet and have since explored many different bus routes home! Or even recently when we allowed both of them to set their own revision timetables for exams and they did a good job but it could have easily gone the other way. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I guess it is about encouraging them to be proud of themselves for what they have achieved for themselves, not just knowing that we are proud of them. Giving them the chance to feel uncomfortable in certain circumstances in order them to build up a tolerance for discomfort and learn how to deal with it. Teaching them how to be responsible for themselves and the choices they make, whether they fail or succeed. Life isn’t all good stuff. I know they have both made bad choices and learn from them which is great, but I have to be real and know there is a lot more of that to come. I don’t want to see my girls fail, but failure is good, it can teach us a lot of things about ourselves. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I said Molly seems to be quite laid back about this situation, but for me this university place represents Molly’s future hopes and dreams and it all feels so overwhelming to me. I know I need to get over myself and just do what I do best, love her to bits and be there for her if she does fall down. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The world is a very competitive place my beautiful girls, go for it, Dad and I will always be there for you, cheering you on and loving you.</span> </div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-86263973836329934932011-09-23T12:48:00.000-07:002011-09-23T13:16:51.409-07:00Smile though your heart is breaking!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7Gv88ITKtA/TnzjQjL8icI/AAAAAAAAAN8/NwM2b0_3hWM/s1600/I%2Bsmile.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655645105533258178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b7Gv88ITKtA/TnzjQjL8icI/AAAAAAAAAN8/NwM2b0_3hWM/s320/I%2Bsmile.png" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cast your worries and cares on God today. Jesus says in John 16:33 <em>'Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.</em>'</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Imagine the gospel choir standing in your kitchen/lounge/bedroom and have a bit of a sway to the following song by Kirk Franklin called 'I Smile'. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5QNFow99SY"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5QNFow99SY</span></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>3 We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. 4 And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. Romans 5:3-4 (NLT)</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">If you would like to know more about the God who helps you smile through your troubles then can I recommend the Alpha Course that is starting next week (27th Sept) at St Barnabas, 7.30pm-9.30pm. I am on the leadership team and look forward to seeing you there. God bless you all x x x x x x </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For more information see the link below.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.stbarnabas.co.uk/Groups/123460/St_Barnabas_Church/Whats_on/Alpha/Alpha.aspx"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.stbarnabas.co.uk/Groups/123460/St_Barnabas_Church/Whats_on/Alpha/Alpha.aspx</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-29504769757232323542011-09-17T04:08:00.000-07:002011-09-17T04:19:44.742-07:00Unconditional Love!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qu6vMuYVuAw/TnSAwwpN9lI/AAAAAAAAAN0/BcD8V-v27zs/s1600/unconditional-love.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653285007436674642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qu6vMuYVuAw/TnSAwwpN9lI/AAAAAAAAAN0/BcD8V-v27zs/s320/unconditional-love.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It’s so exciting to be back at Barney’s after the long summer break. I just love Wednesday and Friday mornings and being able to have all my friends round for a cuppa tea and a chat. Love it, love it, love it! I have to say a huge thank you to St Bs for allowing me to host you all in their front room and not mine at home, because you wouldn’t all fit in at mine! </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Over the summer I had the great privilege of being part of another milestone in the lives of my beautiful daughters, Alice (14) got an A in her GCSE Art (which she took two years early, she starts her normal GCSEs this year in year 10) and Molly (16) got 6 A*s, 5As and a B in her GCSE’s and has now started 5 A levels in her quest to study medicine at University. I am so proud. They both worked so hard. I had very little to do with their hard work apart from the occasional midnight dash to Tesco for more printer ink, providing regular cups of tea, bars of chocolate and searching Tiger and Poundland for art materials because they were being used up so quickly! But it was a pleasure to be able to facilitate, in a small way, their success. Allow me a moment to be a proud mum and say my heart is bursting with pride at what amazing young women they are growing into.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was asked this week at Barney’s, how we managed to encourage our children to do so well. My answer was ‘we just love them’, but I think I need to unpack that a little.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We strive to love our girls unconditionally. Weeks before the exam results were out we organised a party for them, which happened the Saturday after exam results day, to celebrate their results. We wanted to clearly say to them that no matter what their results were, we intended to celebrate them as a person and recognise how hard they had worked. I think if a child knows they are loved, no matter what they do or achieve, then they are more able to love themselves for what they are and not be discouraged by what the world tells them they should be achieving. Through that truth and encouragement comes the feeling that they can attempt all kinds of things, in the case of education no matter how academically gifted they are, and they are more inclined to try their best in everything they attempt to do.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sadly today’s teaching in schools leans heavily towards the academic child, rather than the creative child. The new baccalaureate system introduced this year in all secondary schools gives little chance to a child who is less of a ‘book learner’ than others. I find it really sad, that what you achieve in exams is held in higher esteem than what kind of a person you are.<br />Academic success is not the be all and end all. God loves us all unconditionally and sees our hearts, not our achievements. The world has a habit of telling us we are not good enough, because we haven’t achieved this and we haven’t achieved that. God says to us ‘...no matter what, I love you. Know that love, grow in it and be strengthened by it.’<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is what we have claimed for our girls, that they should receive from us as their parents, what God has given us. Unconditional love is very hard for us all to understand, as it is not a worldly thing. But I believe It is what we should all be striving to give our children. Loving them for who they are, not what they achieve. By all means encouraging them to achieve their God given potential; but always celebrating them as a person, always loving them for who they are.<br /><br />Father God thank you for your unconditional love, thank you that you loved us so much you sent your Son to die for us and through his resurrection we can have an amazing life; a life so full of love that we cannot help but want to give it away. Help us to love our children and others as you love us. Amen</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>If you want to know more about God's love for you or any other big questions of life that you may want to explore, the Alpha Course starts next Tuesday evening 27th Sept, 7.30pm at St Bs. Please come along, I will be there and hopefully you will get your questions answered. I look forward to seeing you x x x x x</em> </span></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-35184851642946357572011-07-09T03:29:00.000-07:002011-07-09T03:36:46.601-07:00Rites of Passage<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcEoR0DWEe8/ThguFxHIaHI/AAAAAAAAANs/zOfx-jxR_VA/s1600/P1060519.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627298411016906866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcEoR0DWEe8/ThguFxHIaHI/AAAAAAAAANs/zOfx-jxR_VA/s320/P1060519.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Life is full of ‘rites of passage’. From the formal ones of baptism, weddings and funerals to the others that we all hold dear in our lives: first smile, first day at school, first lost tooth, 13th birthday, 18th/21st birthday and many more. This week saw our family involved in a new, imported one from the USA, the end of school ‘Prom’. Molly finished her GCSE’s last week and Monday saw the long anticipated Prom Night. As ever it was such a privilege to be part of another of Molly’s ‘rites of passage’ the planning for her big night. </span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She chose a dress on Ebay, just from a photograph, that she really liked and said that she would feel like Eva Longoria wearing; when it arrived she wasn’t wrong she looked stunning. We practised hair and make-up for weeks before hand, I am now an expert in the many ways you can make long straight hair have a curl in it, and how not to gas yourself when using copious amounts of hairspray. We shopped for shoes with six inch heels and we spent hours practising walking in them!</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was really surprised at how emotional I was at all of this; my little girl suddenly became a woman in front of my eyes. I took loads of photos, cried a tears of joy, worried for her as we dropped her off to meet her friends and get in their limo, cried a bit more as I saw the rather handsome young man who had asked her to be his date give her a beautiful corsage of flowers for her wrist; and then worried all night that she would have a good time, be safe and not fall off her shoes!</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But the most amazing moment for me, when I realised that this was a rite of passage for me as well as her, was when I got to do something that I remember my mum doing for me on my wedding day. As Molly was about to leave to go to the prom, I noticed something was missing from her outfit. I rushed upstairs and got a single drop silver necklace out of my jewellery box that Steve had given me when we first met, it would compliment her dress perfectly. With trepidation I reached to put it round her neck, looking into her excited eyes, no words exchanged but joy, pride and love making my fingers shake as I fumbled to fasten the catch. In that moment I was transported back to my wedding day, and I said to her “Nanny did this for me on my wedding day” to her, she looked at me and said “I love you so much Mum”. </span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Such a beautiful precious moment between mother and daughter; a moment that could go unnoticed by anyone else except those involved. On my wedding day, as I came down stairs for the first time dressed in my wedding dress my mum reached around my neck and fastened a beautiful gold chain with a single pearl hanging from it. A necklace I had seen her wear many times, that had been a gift from my dad. In that tender moment, that didn’t need any words I knew what she was thinking, how proud she was of me, how much she loved me and what this moment meant to my Mum.</p></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As Molly and I stood there I suddenly realised that I was giving my daughter away, not yet to a husband but to the world. Another bit of my child, that I wanted to cling onto so tightly, had just slipped away unnoticed by anyone else other than Molly and me. A truly precious moment shared with my beautiful daughter and one that I am so glad I did not miss.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Rites of passage aren’t only in the big things, but in the everyday, as you watch your child grow and fly away. Keep an eye out, don’t miss any because they are so precious and you cannot get any of them back once they are gone. Don’t let your child grow up too soon, as the world seems to encourage them too, rites of passage are called that for a reason there is a time and place for each of them – they are life stages, our journey from birth to death and deserve to be celebrated and enjoyed. And as I found out this week, their rites of passage are ours too.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is my song for my beautiful girls Molly and Alice, I love you so much my darlings x x x x x x x </span></p><br /><p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKAn1HvmRXM"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKAn1HvmRXM</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Father God, I want to thank You for my beautiful daughter. Thank You that You have trusted me to be her mum and raise her for You. Thank You for the amazing times we have had together and I look forward to many more, please keep my eyes open to every precious moment because I don’t want to miss a thing. I am very proud of her and I know that You are too. Amen x x x x x x</span><br /></p>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-81605871321064716422011-06-11T03:37:00.000-07:002011-06-11T03:46:41.060-07:00You only get out what you put in!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BIMP8Aihuu8/TfNHZ-7vIQI/AAAAAAAAANc/MSpEe7l2SeQ/s1600/Potters%2Bhands.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616911671976993026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BIMP8Aihuu8/TfNHZ-7vIQI/AAAAAAAAANc/MSpEe7l2SeQ/s320/Potters%2Bhands.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My gorgeous eldest daughter was born in February 1995 and I remember those sleepless nights and equally long days of coping with a new born. Stumbling from nappy change to feed, to nappy change, hoping I had got them in the right order. In all honesty not having the foggiest what I was doing, making it up as I went along. Spending hours gazing at our small bundle of innocence in her cot praying “Lord, wherever else I may fail, don’t let it be here!”<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, sixteen years later it is GCSE time in our household. Molly is taking 14 GSCEs. Her predicted grades are As and A*s; that’s a big ask for a small person and we are really proud of her and how hard she has worked to hopefully achieve those grades. However, I do have to remind myself that we too have worked hard and played in part in her success, encouraging her in her education by helping her with homework, by attending parents’ evenings, by making sure she has been in school each day, that she has been equipped with all she needs for school, that she has full school uniform and cheered her on in all her educational endeavours. The part we play in our children’s education is just as important as the part they play. As a result of our input Molly has worked to the best of her ability during her school career, especially in the last two years of GCSE study. She has her own aspirations to become a doctor and so has set herself goals of what she would like to achieve. Therefore, her recent study leave and revision time has been just that. She has learnt everything she needed to learn over the last two years and this time is truly a time for revision/reminding herself of her knowledge rather than trying to learn it from scratch. We are very proud of her.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">How our children turn out says more about our parenting skills than about their genes. God has put awesome power into our hands – the power to shape the next generation – and it takes a lot of commitment. We need to be part of their spiritual, emotional and educational challenges even when we are exhausted ourselves. We need to accept them unconditionally, even when they don’t want what we hope for them. Finally we need to be unfailing in our encouragement. Whether they win or lose, are right or wrong, make us look good or embarrass us; we need to understand, console and encourage them nevertheless. They need to know that we would never reject them, no matter what happens.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Each day when Molly goes off to sit an exam I joke with her. I say “I love you so much, if you just wrote your name on the test paper and that was all you did I would still love you!” I wrote my name on her life the day she was born and committed to see the ‘test’ through to the end, no matter what. It has been very testing at times, but as with everything in life you get out of it what you put in.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-58222338460453721742011-05-28T04:21:00.000-07:002011-05-28T04:24:20.750-07:00Kill them with kindness!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tNgzGyrS-vk/TeDbA49f5kI/AAAAAAAAANQ/wmAOOMh7F2Y/s1600/kill_them_with_kindness_2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611725944040449602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tNgzGyrS-vk/TeDbA49f5kI/AAAAAAAAANQ/wmAOOMh7F2Y/s320/kill_them_with_kindness_2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My Dad always used to say “...kill them with kindness Sally” and it is something that has stuck with me. A kind gentle word can defuse all kinds of awful, ugly situations. A simple expression of love can melt any act of anger or hatred. Words spoken in love can bolster a broken spirit and heal broken hearts. A look of pride, a display of joy can change the atmosphere in a room full of people. How you say or do something is crucial to how it is received by the other party involved.</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It says in Ephesians 4:32 <em>“Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you.”</em><br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We live in a world that is so broken, a world that openly accepts blame culture and is now moving into such a litigious state that soon I wouldn’t be surprised if someone broke a finger nail they may call ‘Injurylawers4U’ and sue God for it!<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And all this bitterness, anger and disrespect that people carry around with them against others, because whatever happened wasn’t their fault, is making a society that is permanently angry. I was chatting to a wise ‘older’ woman yesterday at Barney’s who said to me that in her experience of watching children grow over the past 50 years, she noticed that a large proportion of them displayed the same kind of demeanour as their parents, it is a learnt behaviour. If their parents were the type to be stressed most of the time, then their children had grown up to be similar; if the parents were anxious, then their children tended to be anxious; if the parents had little self respect, then it seemed so with the children as they grew; if the parents were laid back, then their children were laid back. I had to say that I agreed with her and it made me think about what we are subconsciously passing on to our children. In this culture that we live in, are we encouraging our children to become the next generation of bitter and angry people who feel everything wasn’t their fault and the world owes them a living; or are we taking responsibility for our actions and acting towards other people as God would have us do, by being gentle, sensitive and forgiving.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Did you know that kindness is a drug? It gives you a far better kick than chocolate! Disrespect, rudeness, incivility, and a lack of kindness have become a serious problem. You will be hard pressed to ever go a day in your life when you won't meet someone that doesn't need a kind word. This week I had quite a few occasions where I had the privilege to thank someone for what they had done for me; give someone who wasn’t feeling on top form a hug and kind words; to encourage someone who wasn’t feeling all that confident about something they had to do; and tell someone I was proud of them. Some of these people were total strangers, people with whom I had no relationship, yet it was fantastic to be able to speak positivity into their lives. Not only did improve their situation, but it gave me a lovely warm feeling inside, I felt incredibly blessed. It was the kind of feeling that money can’t buy and I am pretty sure should be prescribed for certain depressive illnesses. It is impossible, not to be unbelievably blessed when somebody sends a kind deed or a kind word your way. Remember this saying and kill someone with kindness. You really can do that with people. You can kill animosity, bitterness, anger, and hard feelings with just a little kindness.<br /><br />Amen!</span></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-15277476140510606002011-05-21T06:07:00.000-07:002011-05-21T06:18:20.227-07:00Hold my hand and we will do this together........<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mRKiNBoyFc/Tde69gykdNI/AAAAAAAAANI/ftMhCh3q1qo/s1600/father%2526sonblur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609157426850067666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8mRKiNBoyFc/Tde69gykdNI/AAAAAAAAANI/ftMhCh3q1qo/s320/father%2526sonblur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was teaching this morning at the Family Craft Morning on how when we are scared we just have to turn to God, because he is bigger than any fear we can be facing and He says to us <em>‘I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you’</em> in the book of Isaiah 41:13 (TNIV).<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I spoke I asked one of the children to come and hold my hand and in that moment I was struck with just what a powerfully comforting feeling it is holding someone’s hand.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I got to thinking of how many times my girls have, and still do, slip their hand into mine in order for me to guide them and for them to feel protected; and how often I slip my hand into my husband’s when I am feeling a bit vulnerable in a social situation.<br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What a privilege it is to have our children trust us so much that they feel reassured by just holding our hand and also what an honour it is to be able to guide them in such an intimate way. I am sure we have all used hand holding as a control measure, when we are crossing the road or in a busy shopping centre where we don’t want to lose our children, quite possibly never really understanding what a powerful sign of love and protection it is to those whose hand we are holding.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So just think how powerful it is to know that God wants to hold our hand; that just as we reach our hand out to our children, so He reaches out His hand to us His children and says ‘Do not fear, I will help you’.<br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you are in fear of something today, just reach out, God will take your hand and guide you through whatever it is – it may not be a smooth journey, or an enjoyable one, but with God by your side you will get through it. God says to us “Hold my hand, we will do this together!”.<br /><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Father God, thank you that you are not a distant God because you are by our side all the time. Remind us to reach out to you when times are tough because we know that You will take our right hand and help us through the scary moment, let’s do this together. Praise You Father, Amen.</em></span></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2385776590003793936.post-27335094599903293072011-05-14T03:53:00.001-07:002011-05-14T03:56:05.184-07:00Love and Support<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e5RplYP_nFQ/Tc5fYcSLzdI/AAAAAAAAANA/QkcrXUEpLrc/s1600/I%2Blove%2Byou%2B-%2Bchalk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606523459636809170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e5RplYP_nFQ/Tc5fYcSLzdI/AAAAAAAAANA/QkcrXUEpLrc/s320/I%2Blove%2Byou%2B-%2Bchalk.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">God has opened my eyes wider this week to something really precious to me: the gift of belonging to a community and all the benefits that brings in the form of friendships, accountability, love and support. </span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><div><br />Many of us these days live far away from our families, those who would naturally provide our community and support system. London is a place where, unless you are born there, is generally where people come to live specifically for work. At Barney’s of the 150 members we have people from all over the world as well as all over Great Britain. </div><br /><div><br />I think I am possibly one of the few born and bred Londoners at Barney’s; I was born in Hackney, East London and spend my childhood in Enfield. But I am the last of my family to remain in London, they have all moved away, mainly to Hertfordshire, which isn’t far, but far enough. I am married to Steve who is from Dundee in Scotland, where his family remains. So even for me, a Londoner, my natural support system is distant. </div><br /><div><br />Some of you may not know the background to my leading Barney’s. 10 years ago I joined Barney’s, I too was a victim of the dreaded waiting list, but it was so worth it when I finally got a place and became a member. My own children were at school by this point and I was a childminder. I had tried toddler groups with my girls, but found all the ones I visited just never fitted me, some were unwelcoming, others cliquey and some were in grotty church halls and lacked life. They didn’t bless or enhance my life in any way. </div><br /><div><br />The first child I minded was Sara’s eldest child, Mike. She recommended Barney’s to me as she knew about it because she was a member of St Bs. So I went along to Barney’s expecting to find the same as I had found everywhere else, but was pleasantly surprised, mainly by the coffee but there was something there that I couldn’t put into words. From the moment I walked in I felt welcome, comfortable, relaxed and at home. So to hear I had to go on a waiting list was a bit sad and eventually when I got a place it was to bring Sara’s second son, Tom (who is now 11). </div><br /><div><br />Being a member of Barney’s saved my life, as a parent of young children there are days when you feel you are just stumbling from one disaster to another, it is confusing and joyful at the same time, the pressure you feel under to be a good parent and do the right thing for your child is intense and as the milestones pass by you wonder if what you have done is good enough. This is when you need your support system, someone to affirm you in your parenting, someone to hug you when you are having a bad day, someone to listen when you want to let off steam, someone to tell you they love you, someone to offer to babysit, someone to help you look for a nursery or school place – someone to share the ups and downs of parenting a small person. And that is what I found at Barney’s, I made some amazing friends, met some wonderful women and men, all of us in the same boat, all of us needing each other and everyone willing to give their time to each other to help and support each other. I think you call it a family! </div><br /><div><br />I immediately gained grandparents, aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers and was accepted and loved into the Barney’s family. A year after joining Barney’s I became a Christian, and joined St Barnabas Church as a member, a year after that was asked if I would like the privilege of taking on the leadership of Barney’s. I couldn’t refuse, I loved Barney’s and so wanted for it to be able to give to others what I had received when I had become a member. My saying of 'once a Barney’s member always a Barney’s member’ is kind of a selfish one in a way, because I have an incredible fondness for all the families I have met through Barney’s and have spent many a wonderful time chatting with them and having the privilege to share in their lives that I want to maintain that relationship. So when I say, drop in for a cup of coffee any time – I really mean it, I find it really sad when people leave and I have to say goodbye to a friend. </div><br /><div><br />When I took on the leadership of Barney’s I prayed “Lord help me to maintain what you have built here through the previous leaders, what I have benefitted from so greatly and what long to pass on to others” and that is my prayer still. Being a member of the Barney’s family and gaining the gift of belonging to a community and all the benefits that brings in the form of friendships, accountability, love and support is so precious. I love meeting you all, I love hanging out with you all, I love being able to share my ups and downs with you and to do the same with you. To me Barney’s is so much more than a toddler group, you are my family, my friends and I want to thank you all so much for being there for me and as St Paul says in the book of Philippians</div><br /><div><br /><em>“Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart.”</em> Philippians 1:3-4 </div><br /><div><br />I love you all x x x x x x x </span></div>Sally Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14375407822086600652noreply@blogger.com0