Broken pots

In 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The pot that I had written off as broken, no longer fit for purpose and placed in the "leaving the building pile" was RESTORED.

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.

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.

I love my broken pot, and Jesus loves me, his broken pot.

We have no time to stand and stare....

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.

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.

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?

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.

Am I ok with my own company on my walk?

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.

I long to turn off Countdown, go for a walk twice a day and sit on walls.

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.

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.

"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.

Leisure - W. H. Davies

WHAT is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,

And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Living in HOPE - Growing and Moving On

The past 6 years have been an interesting journey. The journey into ordination has been fun, exciting, scary, painful, disappointing yet full of hope.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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,

"Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

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.

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!

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? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

Jeremiah 29:11New Living Translation (NLT)

And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you.

Psalm 39:7 New Living Translation (NLT)

But it’s not in the parenting books!

Things you don't expect you would have to think about when parenting teenage daughters:

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).

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'.

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!  

Why does no one tell you these things! 

Leaving school and growing up

Standing in the queue in Matalan this week I suddenly realised that ‘rites of passage’ are for grown-ups, as well as kids.

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^th 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.

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?

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:

·      Always buy uniform a couple of sizes too big so that it lasts the whole year – especially the expensive school blazers.

·      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.

·      It’s annoying that Asda’s shirts are so cheap, but ultimately M&S’s stay whiter longer so worth the investment.

Ah the list is extensive and I pray that I will be able to remember them all.

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.

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!

What will I be when I grow up?

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!

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).

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^th 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^th 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?

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:

 “Oh my gosh my babies are now 16 and 18, one of them is an adult!”;

“That means Molly is really doing it, she’s planning to leave me!”;

“That means only two years until Alice heads off too!”;

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.

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.

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 “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

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.

Today my baby is driving a car!

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.

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!

“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.

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 ‘time is God's way of stopping everything happening at once.’ 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^nd 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.

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.

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.

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.

“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)

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