The Impatient Rester

The exertion of moving house and all the work it has entailed has knocked me for six; it is the worst ME crash in years and my word how impatient I am to be back on my feet!  I am so bored of resting, of aching with tiredness and having to say "no" to things I really want to do.  Days seem to float past, each one much alike and it is hard to keep from getting depressed by the situation.  Now I do know that compared to many people I am incredibly lucky to be able to so much, but somehow that is never enough is it?  I want to be getting stuck into church things, helping out, inviting people over, going places, exploring, making, gardening.  The gap between what I can do and what I want to do is vast, a canyon, so if I say, "yes" to something or suggest doing something, then have to pull out, that is why.  In terms of energy my eyes are bigger than my energy reserves.

I am trying to stay positive, to take each day as it comes, be grateful for what I have, for the peace and chance to recover, but I am human and do not find it easy.  Maybe my calling right now is just to be?

A new arrival is helping make this time of resting bearable, I have adopted a small black cat named Willow from a local shelter.  She is about six, affectionate, determined, funny, sweet and loving.  There is nothing she likes more than a lap for the afternoon, cuddles by the hour and will sit on me in such a way that I cannot do anything else except sit, which for someone who struggles to rest, is invaluable.  I wish I had had a cat years ago, they offer great companionship.  I look forward to getting up now so I can go downstairs to see her.

Perhaps I should write soon about what I have been knitting while I have been resting?  For now it is time to head back to the sofa.

More on change

So it's been over a month and I have managed to miss last month's book, though it could be rather dull, I have mostly read technical booklets lately, on thrilling subjects like how to work the oven or what insurance covers.  But I thought an update was long overdue.

I am finally living in my new house, after a long period of doing things and sorting out, it is not totally sorted yet, some of my furniture has yet to arrive and the books have yet to make the big move.  Although I never thought I'd manage to pack them all up, took nearly 40 boxes in the end.  There have been hiccoughs like the heating breaking down twice and rodent related issues I wish I did not have to deal with, let us just say that Rentokil are expensive but lovely.

All the work involved has been horribly hard on my health, ME, fibromyalgia and moving house do not mix well at all, I have been more tired and sore than in ages lately.  Emotionally it is weird too, I am not some who deals well with change: last time Waitrose moved stock around I nearly had a panic attack.  So a major life change like moving out on your own is good, but also feels odd, weird, strange and scary.  There simply is no turning back and going home and being the same, I cannot let myself and there were lots of reasons I needed to be out, but staying means being brave again and again and again.  Of course there have been happy times I have enjoyed, being able to welcome a friend to my place for the first time, exploring a new area (fantastic greengrocer up the road), being able to shut the door on the world, meeting a friendly local cat who insisted on exploring the house for himself.  There are things I am looking forward to like planting the garden or having friends over for dinner for the first time.  But there are also times when I start at every noise (not helped by aforementioned rodents) or wonder, "what next?" and "what am I doing here?".

Throughout the long process of finding, buying and moving in I have been praying about this move, there have been a lot of questions about whether this is right and am I doing the right thing?  And prayers that I would use this house to God's glory, to bring his kingdom here, to make people feel welcome and bless others.  Even now I am having doubts about the whole thing: leaving the familiar, even uncomfortable familiarity, is unbelievably hard.  I feel so shook up and strange, sometimes I look around and wonder what I am doing here and when the real owner is going to come home.  On top of this I am beyond exhausted and having to take a couple of days' off to recuperate.  Yet other people are so excited for me, which is lovely, but makes it hard to articulate how I feel at times.  In a way it seems ungrateful: this should be fantastic, instead I feel all mixed up inside.

I am trying to pray, to lean on God, to let him be my stability in rapidly changing times, prayer can be such a challenge sometimes.  He brought me through to here, he will keep being with me, I know he will, even though I feel a bit lost now.  The best way forward I suppose is to try keep praying and to take each day at a time and if that seems too long, take each moment at a time.  It will get easier, right?

A Time of Contrasts

The news lately has been abundantly dark, full of the terrible things we humans do to one another and I admit I have been finding it hard to deal with at times.  I pray and try not to brood or become utterly overwhelmed and it feels so little.

Meanwhile in the garden the summer continues oblivious, as it as always done, the borders a tangle of blooms and lush green.  It is, as the wonderful writer Ronald Blythe has noted, a growing year: young trees have shot up a foot or more, the roses reach for the sky, the sole remaining raspberry cane performs hitherto unheard of feats and the ceanothus and holly attempt to meet from their separate sides of the lawn.



To sit in the garden and appreciate its beauty as it hums and twitters and flutters with wildlife seems indulgent, inappropriate somehow, like I should not be enjoying that moment when others were suffering so much.  But what does it profit anybody if I did not enjoy that moment, since there is nothing I can do as I am to change matters, once I have prayed and prayed again?





Also thank you for your comments to my last post, try as I might, I cannot get blogger to let me reply, but I do very much appreciate what you have said.

Out like a lamb

As the old saying goes, March went out like a lamb; last weekend was glorious, warm and sunny and I revelled in being able to sit outside.  I also remembered to take my camera out with me and got some lovely shots of one of the robins.  Both were about and I love their trust and curiosity.  They are starting to spend time closer together and yesterday I saw one feed the other.  While I was sitting outside last weekend I was surrounded by birdsong, every bird in the area was singing and singing, I could distinguish the robins, a wren and blackbird, but there were also blue and great tits and a surprisingly assertive dunnock around.  Normally the dunnocks we have in the garden are most inoffensive and spend their time creeping about in flower beds, but this particular individual is not afraid to boss other birds off the feeders.  Watching the birds brings me such joy, it is one of the few times I find myself smiling, broadly and spontaneously.  Anyhow, photos...










One of Dad's beloved cowslips and its red genetic variant







So next time it is beautiful weather and I am sat inside, please remind me how much joy I find outside among the birds and send me outside.

The Art of Celebration

Last Monday my favourite band, Rend Collective, released their latest album, titled The Art of Celebration and I have been listening to it all week.  The songs have an energy and life to them and contain many truths and promises.  The premise of the album is that God is always worth celebrating, no matter what the circumstances of our lives and sets the tone by opening:

We’re choosing celebration
Breaking into Freedom
You’re the song...
Of our hearts

This song, Joy, is one of my favourites on the album, the lines "The pain will not define us/Joy will reignite us" have been resonating with me, so often I feel like my identity is being subsumed by illness.  There is an interesting dance remix of this song at the end of the album, while dance music isn't usually my scene, it can work for worship music and it mixes well with rhythms of Irish origin often used by Rend Collective.

The band have talked about not liking being pigeon-holed as a "folk" band and have tried to diversify for this album, but I would say to them not to worry about it, their original philosophy of making music that anyone could get involved in is great, stick with that philosophy.  It is much closer to historical church music than the "traditional" organ and choir music, which originated in the nineteenth century when village music groups were banished from churches in favour of organs.  Let's put worship back into the hands of the people and have inclusive music that has its roots in the past but has freshness for today.

I am terrible at celebrating, terrible at seeing and remembering the good in life and in God; it sometimes feels like my brain is fixated on the bad, the evil, my sin, endless darkness.  But the Bible is packed with people celebrating God, Paul and Silas singing their hymns in prison in Acts 16 particularly come to mind and I hope this album can help me to learn more about always celebrating Jesus and what He has done and is going to do.  Despite the name the songs do acknowledge the hard side of life, it is not mindless "everything is wonderful" stuff, but about the conscious choice to celebrate.  Darkness, deserts, pain, doubts, questions, sorrows, shadows are all allowed in and acknowledged, but placed in their proper perspective of God's grace and goodness and mercy and light.

There's so much I love about this album, I will admit to not being the most moderate or measured reviewer (though honestly I am not in their pay and I bought my copy!), it has brightened up a dull week and has a message I badly need.  Have a listen - in their generosity the band have put the lyric videos on youtube - see what you think, buy a copy, celebrate.

By your power I can change, I can change
‘Cos you’re not finished with me yet 

This is the art of celebration
Knowing were free from condemnation
Oh praise the One, praise the One 

On fear

Although I have heard the promises such as “if our God is for us, who can be against us” and others of its ilk, I still find the world a terrifying place.  I feel plagued by fear, surrounded by it, caught up in it.  The thought of the long-term future fills me with such panic, of course we do not know what will happen, but sometimes we need to take decisions or do some sort of planning for the future and I find it almost unbearable.

I have improved over time, I can now think beyond the next minute, beyond the next hour, beyond the next week, sometimes even beyond the next month or months without being gripped by terror, slowly I have regained the future.  But I still feel as though I am surviving, not living and at present I am wrestling with how to live, how my future should look, what I should do with what I have and what I do not have.  It is an unsettling process, stirring me up inside, a hard process after such a long time of simply not wanting to be alive.  I am trying to accept life.

The worst thing about the fear is the feeling that I have failed God, my loving Father, He has said time and time again “Do not fear, do not be afraid”, and yet... somehow I cannot trust Him.  I feel ashamed and hate my lack of trust and faith, my failure to obey, to believe that He is sovereign and knows my future (Psalm 139) and that He will never leave me (Hebrews 13).

In the light of this failure I find the prayer in Mark 9.24 a help and a heart's cry, “I believe; help my unbelief!”.  God is gracious and there have been times in the middle of the terror and panic when He has been so close and has calmed me, at least my fear keeps me coming to Him for help.

Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.  Forgive my lack of trust and help my trust in you to grow as I come to you in the storms.  Be with me, strengthen my feeble knees and weak hands, be with me in the fear and help me to overcome.  Be with those who also fear.  Amen

"Jesus said... “Do not fear, only believe,” Mark 5.36

Facing failure

Some days, some weeks even, I feel like a failure: an utter, miserable, lowest of the low, out and out failure.  Now is one of those times.  Life seems dismal, I feel frustrated by my own ability to make the same mistakes again and again and I feel stuck.  Prayer is hard, a fight and a battle, to focus, to find the words, even sitting quietly before God is a challenge.  I find myself not wanting to pray, which is a feeling I hate.  I hate that I do not want to spend time with God and hate how that must make Him feel.  The world seems like a bleak place and change seems impossible.

I am trying to persevere, as the Bible urges us to again and again, but it feels so hard and yet in saying that I feel like such a wimp.  Surely I knew before I began that following Jesus was hard?  He warns of it, "Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10) and "In this world you will have trouble." (John 16).  So why do I moan and whine and protest when things are hard?

I find it so hard to put aside my pride and admit that I cannot do this on my own, to accept my own inadequacy and that ultimately I cannot save myself.  It is at this point that I turn again to Jesus, to the cross, to give in to grace, something so simple, yet so hard.

But I still admit that I cannot yet rejoice in trials and sufferings, although I can overall see the good that has been coming out of the hard times.  Sometimes the hard times are when I am closest to God, but the hardest hard times are when I find it hard to approach God and when my sense of failure becomes overwhelming.

Father help me to persevere.
Forgive me my failings.
Thank you for the cross.
Help me.
Help me to find strength in my weakness.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12) 

52 Weeks of Happy - week 3

This has been a slightly strange week, during which the admonition to "Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12.15) has never seemed more apt.  For my friends there has been great sorrow and also some joys and I have had the joy of my birthday, it has been quite emotional at times.

Nonetheless there have been joys this week, life at its essence is a sharp mixture of joy and sadness.  The biggest joy has been my birthday so we shall make that number one.

1. My birthday, which I managed to approach with the minimum of trepidation and soul searching about "achievements" and which my family and friends combined to make special.  I had a great many cards and generous presents and messages and feel thoroughly spoiled and humbled that so many people value me.


Birthday banana cake

2. Wonderful new yarn that my sister gave me for my birthday, hand-dyed in stripes, in the colours of the London underground lines, from Trailing Clouds.  I am most excited about knitting this, I still find self-striping yarns exciting, knitting away, wondering which colour will come next and when.  Additionally I am in awe at the hard work that has gone into dyeing this yarn to create approximately six round stripes in so many colours, by hand.



3. Coffee with a new friend and her little boy who is about a year and a half.  A delightful and refreshing combination of a good chat and some play with her little boy, who is very sweet and well behaved.  To be repeated soon I hope.

4. Beautiful snow, which has been falling steadily for most of the day, giving us more light than we have had for a while and muffling noise, creating a quiet, bright, cold world, although I feel terribly sorry for the birds.


A goldfinch on its way to the bird feeders

And so on we go through the year, hopefully I will be able to shake off the threatened depression and accompanying lethargy and "what's the point" feeling more this week.  I think the weekly discipline of looking at the good things that have happened is helping though.


A cyclamen flowers on

52 Weeks of happy - an attempt - week 1

This morning I came across Little Tin Bird's post about Little Birdie's idea of having a weekly post through this year called 52 Weeks of Happy.  The idea is that once a week you post four things that have made you happy that week.  As someone who can be somewhat happiness challenged this seems like an excellent idea and should serve the twin purpose of making me blog more regularly and more importantly examine the things that make me happy and hopefully see the happy things in my life and not let them get drowned out.

Both the bloggers previously mentioned seem to be posting a photograph for each happy thing, I can't be sure I can keep that up, so I will endeavour to have some photographs at least.

So here goes, Week 1, in by a whisker:

1. Sparkly socks - sparkly Monkey socks, edging towards completion, glittering with every stitch!


2. A stack of reading material - thanks to the Oxfam online shop's sale.  I have started with The Vicarage Children by Lorna Hill and it is an utter delight.

(Sorry for the rubbish phone photo)

3. A plethora of brilliant radio, over the past couple of days I have enjoyed The Eustace Diamonds by Anthony Trollope, The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico and on a slightly different note My MS and Me by Jim Sweeney.  The latter I have just discovered is available from his website, which is brilliant because there are so many people I want to tell about it.  If you have any kind of disability or want to understand what life can be like having a disability or you are just a human being, have a listen.

4. Various bulbs in the garden starting to show shoots already, mainly due to the mild weather I suspect, but giving promise of spring and good things to come.

Autumn

Time slips on, complicated hat has made way on the needles for complicated mittens, while in the past few days I have been enjoying finally being able to wear the complicated hat. When I finished it we were in the middle of our intense Indian summer and I had to unearth my sun hat instead. How glorious that was and how cold it felt yesterday by contrast.

Stepping outside today, despite the comparative warmth, there is a definite smell of autumn, of falling leaves and damp lawn and cooling earth and decay. It is the sort of day which inspires me to want to put on some wellingtons and do some digging or other essential autumn job in the garden. If only I had the energy.

Sometimes I regard this slow slipping into winter with dread, all those dark, cold days, but in my saner moments I just take each moment as it comes and watch all its changes and moods. This is a better way I think, it feels calmer. Watch the leaves slowly change, the birds, who all vanished during the heat of the Indian summer, return to use the feeders so lovingly set up for them, wash and drink in the bird bath and chatter and preen in the bushes, hopping around the branches of the big holly as though it were a green stair case, up and down, up and down. Watch a robin sitting apparently doing nothing, looking casually about him before diving to the ground for some grub smaller than I can see.

That robin is delightful, he always comes down when I am outside to see what I'm up to. I'll look up from my magazine or book, having heard the flutter of wings, to see him sitting on a branch two feet away watching me. I love the look of triumph in his eye when he has a particularly juicy worm or a good berry, a look that says "this is mine, back off". The blackbirds are just the same.

These trees were so golden, lit up by the sun, I half expected Aeneas to turn up, guided by doves, for his golden bough.

In between there have been blacker moods and darker times, part of chronic illness I suppose. But I am writing this almost to prove to myself that it hasn't all been bad. And time slips on, flowing past, while I nap and knit and watch.

Thought for the day

"...I will be flesh and blood;

For there was never yet philosopher

That could endure the toothache patiently,

However they have writ the style of gods,

And made a push at chance and sufferance."

Much Ado About Nothing, Act 5, Scene 1

Shaking off the black dog

I've been meaning to write a less "heavy" post for a while now, but haven't quite got around to it as I've been feeling a bit down and apathetic and lethargic, which is not me: I hate it. So I'm trying to shake it off, remember the good things.

Spring and early summer are particularly easy times of year in which to find good things to celebrate, even when it's been raining constantly as in the past few days, especially as we have needed the rain so very much. There have been plenty of birds in the garden, yesterday a wren was making a disproportionate amount of noise for a bird so tiny while feeding its young and a fledgling robin has been making his fluffy first attempts at solo life and visiting our bird feeder. So birds and their song: there is good thing one.

Then the plants, oh the plants, coming up in merry profusion and confusion, self seeding, growing back from apparently lifeless twigs, we have had a baby cherry tree, several cow slips and a single rogue daffodil coming up in the middle of the lawn, plenty of nasturtiums growing from last year and flowering gloriously, with a golden colour that looks like condensed sunshine and roses, so many roses. Around the roses, which are past their first flush of glory, are two flowering Jasmines, which are smelling heavenly - I go out into the garden and stand by them and inhale! Our garden is starting to look like a garden and less like an untidy patch of ground. The vegetables are coming along nicely too; the runner beans in particular, appreciating the rain and having astonishing growth spurts. Bees of many varieties (hard to identify as they do not stay still long and are very small!) are busy all through the day on all the flowers, particularly around the Hebe hedge by the front door.

Inside there have been some good plays on the radio lately, including some on the Plantagenet kings and a Terrence Rattigan season celebrating his centenary. Some good books, though the only one I can remember having read recently is Dorothy Whipple's High Wages, an engaging and interesting novel about life in a Lancashire in the early twentieth century. The protagonist, Jane, is a very likable character with real spirit, at times when reading I found myself 'cheering her on' as she took on the attitudes and set ways of the community around her.

Naturally I have been knitting still too, socks, baby items for the ongoing population explosion among my friends, hats, a cardigan, the usual things. But my heart is not quite in it just now, I am not sure why, but I can't quite settle or focus. My concentration is not good, yet I am bored of simpler patterns. Though looking through my recent photographs I have finished a couple of major projects recently, including a baby blanket, so I should perhaps expect a bit less of myself?

Were I physically well the depression would be so much easier to shake off through keeping busy and doing new things, changing things, exercising. I can do so little of any of that and it does get to me sometimes. I am trying to keep going and battle on, keep trusting Jesus and staying positive, but goodness me there are times when it is hard!

Unbecoming Victor[ia]

Lately I have been feeling in increasing sympathy with Victor Meldrew (the 'hero' of One Foot in the Grave), feeling incredibly intensely angry with just about everything. I have found myself ranting and shouting at the television, losing it over the slightest thing, tense and overwhelmed by anger. A lot of it to do with feeling out of control and unable to change things, like the government or the benefits' system or the way we human beings treat one another.

Of course I know that anger is not always a negative thing, that Jesus was righteously angry, most famously when he took a whip to the sellers in the temple courts. However, although a very small proportion of my anger could perhaps be construed this way - at injustice in the world and my own sin - the majority of it cannot. Moreover it is not even useful anger, of a sort that spurs one onto change something in the world, to do something about it, instead it leaves me exhausted and drained, which is not a good use of an already scarce resource.

This weekend, having shouted and ranted my way through most of an edition of Any Questions on Radio 4 I realised that I needed to do something to change this situation. In classical Christian parlance I felt convicted, in particular by Jesus' words in the sermon on the mount:

"But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell." (Matthew 5.22 NIV)

In particular by the word 'Raca' from this passage and I hated feeling so bitter, angry and out of control. It is the feeling that there are major aspects of my life, such as my health care provision or my income and general government policy, over which I have no control. I have been enraged by the government's attitude towards the vulnerable and their demonization of the sick and disabled; and worse still felt powerless, too tired to protest and generally overwhelmed, invisible and not heard. Listing all the things that have been making me angry would take a long time and it was alarming how unloving, ungracious (in the godly meaning of the word) and hateful I was becoming, the opposite of Jesus in so many ways.

But then as I was praying and mulling over how to deal with this, begging God to help me not feel so angry or be able to use this anger to some effect, it came to me. I may not have the ear of government ministers or the media, but I do have the ear of one who is far more powerful: God "for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing" (Romans 13.6 NIV) and He always listens (Proverbs 15.29; Luke 18, among many others).

Prayer yet again is the answer, as I have found many times before (why do I always seem to forget?!). It is doubly powerful because it can change a situation (e.g. 1 Kings 18) and change me: changes my heart and my mind and my attitude about people and situations as it brings me closer to God as I spend time with Him. So I've started praying, starting with David Cameron and continuing with others and situations which have made me angry, and already I feel calmer and more at peace with the world. Naturally it is not quite that simple, I still have a long way to go, but I feel like I am on the right path: knowing that I have someone I can turn to, who listens and is infinitely powerful, helps so much.

Before I feel too self-congratulatory I should thank God, for once again forgiving me and drawing me close to Him, for His patience and His love and His grace.

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philipians 4.4-7

May we all know God's peace.

Day seven (extremely belatedly) - your knitting and crochet time

Sorry for the delay in this post, still better late than never? I wasn't quite feeling up to blogging.

I do have an extraordinary amount of time available for knitting and crochet, although often very little energy - mental and physical - for it, which means that my actual output is not a great deal higher than many prolific 'well' knitters out there. Most of my knitting and crochet time is spent at my desk, where I have a big comfy chair, ravelry open on the computer, something from radio iplayer such as comedy from "BBC Radio 4 extra" (the artist formerly known as BBC Radio 7) to listen to, a glass of cordial to my left and vital items such as tape measure, scissors, pencil and tapestry needle close on hand. My desk, due to a mixture of exhaustion and "creative working practices", is much, much too messy to photograph. You may think you know untidy, but I tell you, you would be genuinely shocked.

My second modus operandi is knitting on the sofa in the sunny bay window of the living room, with or without the television or a DVD to watch. This bay window catches the sun brilliantly and is a delightful spot on a sunny day - had we a cat this would be where you would find him or her - instead I bask alone. There are a variety of flowering plants here, including my beloved poinsettia, a nice big cushion to lean against, a blanket for colder weather and the vital kit of tape measure, scissors, pencil and tapestry needle on hand.

Since the weather started to improve I have begun taking my knitting

and crochet out to the garden, to bask in the sunshine, without the hot house effect of all that glass, and enjoy the relative tranquillity. I say relative since our proximity to the centre of town and in particular the police station can make it a little loud at times, but it's mainly a low hum in the background and happily drowned out in birdsong. Outside, without the distractions of the computer, or downstairs on the sofa, I do tend to get more done, than at my desk. In particular I will often take a dull bit of knitting, or one which does not seem to be getting anywhere, downstairs with me, to get it done while occupied with a good film.

Likewise I often use meeting up with people, either at knitting group or just out and about in general as an opportunity to get simple garter or stocking stitch done, enjoying the process with my hands while my brain is occupied socially. Indeed I have found it folly to take anything more complicated with me to knitting group, as it inevitably leads to disaster. As women have done through history I keep my knitting with me most of the time to fill in those little gaps in the day - while the food is cooking, in the doctors' waiting room, on the train etc. - which would otherwise be idle and dull. The sheer portability of knitting and crochet is a major factor in my adherence to these crafts rather than others involving more setting up and preparation.

My knitting and crochet time is of infinite value in my life, it gives me interests beyond the bounds of myself and my illness to think about and an occupation, something that gives me something to do while consuming little energy. Through knitting even the worst day can have its achievements, however small, I can learn new skills, meet new people and gain a sense of purpose. It is something positive to think about and means that the days are not entirely empty, there are small goals to achieve, the turning of a heel, another inch on a jumper, another granny square. The very act of knitting or crocheting is positive, distracting me from pain, calming me, cheering me, distracting my mind from dismal depression.

Thank you to the wonderful Eskimimi for organising this week (or several weeks in my case) of blogging, it's really great, has been wonderful seeing the knitting and crocheting world from so many different perspectives and coming across new blogs. It has also been a great incentive to blog more: hopefully I will keep this up.

Spring, sparrows and shoes

You know how sometimes in life you think that you've begun to get something sorted out, you're doing better at it, then something comes along to prove to you that actually you aren't as sorted as you'd like to think? Something along the lines of "pride comes before a fall". That's happened to me over the past couple of weeks; just as I start to think that maybe I'm not so bad at this coping thing and at surviving feeling awful day after day, I feel worse than normal and struggle to cope at all. It's not been the best couple of weeks ever, I've had a nasty infection and it's taken it out of me recovering, lots of days of exhaustion and pain and feeling miserable and bored. And days of feeling so tense I cannot relax or get comfortable anywhere or sleep properly. I wish I could say I had borne it all with cheerful stoicism or beautiful and gently inspiring patience, but in reality I am all too human when it comes to these times. There have been tears, grumps, snapping, yelling at God, saying sorry to God quite a lot, misery, self pity and rather a lot of headaches. Thankfully God is very forgiving and understands me better than I do and loves me a very great deal and I am trying to lean on Him and just be with Him and rest and relax.

Hopefully things are looking up now though and it has not all been bad, for a start God is good and loves me a very great deal. For another there are small stirrings that spring is beginning - or to quote an ancient joke from I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again "spring has sprung *boing* [sound effect]". We have miniature daffodils open in a couple of the tubs on the doorstep, crocuses, cyclamen, primroses and miniature irises flowering in the gardens front and back and in various tubs and window boxes. Dad regards them with great pride and is forever calling my attention to the progress of this or that plant.

Meanwhile the birds are keeping things in the garden lively, a constant stream of blue, coal and great tits haunt the feeders, robins sing their hearts out and a pair of blackbirds scavenge on the ground getting rich pickings from under the feeders where food has been dropped. It is amazing to watch the way the birds learn means of finding food from one another - the g

reat tits have been hopping around on the ground picking over the leaves for food and systematically turning them over in just the way the blackbirds do. When they find something they differ from the blackbirds though, in that they pick up the entire leaf, take it to a branch and hold it in their feet, as they usually do with a titbit that needs a bit more work, and peck away at the food on the leaf, finally letting it drop when they are done.

God has answered a very small prayer to do with the birds this week; it's going to sound a little silly that I was praying about this, but anyhow... We have not had any sparrows in the garden for a bit, despite having one here for much of the winter, so I was praying that they would return and on Monday morning, after a horrible weekend, I opened the curtains just as two sparrows flew onto our back fence! They stopped there for a moment before one dropped down to the ground to peck about and they were around for much of the day. It was such a lovely, beautiful encouragement and precious reminder that He does answer prayer and that He can make things happen and bring change in this sad, broken world. Small but exquisite - as I was reading recently in Luke

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12.6-7

Such are the things that life is made of, the big, the small, the painful and the beautiful.

One last small excitement has been my new shoes, from Cath Kidston - with stars on! I'm not normally a shoe person, in fact I generally hate buying them, but these have stars on, it makes all the difference. Seen here modelled with my latest pair of socks - Duckies, in Trekking 6ply (for those who take an interest in these matters) I would recommend both pattern and yarn.

I hope you all enjoy the unfolding spring.

An inauspicious start to February

Today I reached the point in the crash from going out for dinner on Saturday night with some church friends where I was wishing I'd not gone. At the time I did enjoy myself and was pleased I'd overcome the anxiety about it sufficiently to go, though the meal went on for longer than I expected and involved all the usual stressors like noise and uncomfortable chairs. Now I'm utterly fed up, with it always being the same story, with always having to pay so heavily for so little fun, with myself for letting it get me down, with the world for there being so little sympathy or kindness in it, with myself again for feeling sorry for myself... I could go on, but I won't bore us all to tears.

To compound matters I got stressed about a discussion I was having with some others about sickness, work and whether one should just "tough it out" or stop. It's an area in which I am incredibly sensitive; I loathe that I can't work, I feel guilty about it, all the things I wanted to achieve that are not happening and that may never happen. I tried the "toughing it out" or "pushing myself" approach and did myself terrible damage. So getting into a discussion on the topic on a day when I already felt awful and low, was not the wisest decision. Getting into this discussion on-line, where all nuance of voice, expression and body language - was an even worse decision. Naturally being very physically stressed and unable to relax lead to the inevitable migraine. Mercifully the migraine tablet (once located, in the waste paper basket, to which I had consigned the box thinking it was the empty one), worked its miracle and I feel largely better except for the usual weird aching joints that accompanies them.

So what to learn from this catalogue of misadventure? Not to get into argumentative discussions because I simply do not have the strength to deal with them. To try not to be so over sensitive to every nuance of what someone is saying. That everyone is different, every situation is different, therefore what is right for one person is not necessarily right for another. That I still have a lot of things I need to straighten out. That no person is utterly reliable and that Jesus is still very much the one to turn to and cling to and trust. All the storms of this life seem to blow me in His direction, thankfully. Therefore repentance and receiving His forgiveness, love and understanding awaits and I'll try to learn from my mistakes.

Phew, quite a lot of moaning there, sorry. Got to "talk" to someone though and it has helped getting my thoughts in some sort of order and out of my head, instead of buzzing around inside. I'm going to listen to Ed Reardon's Week now, his curmudgeonly grumpiness will be just right to help me relax before bed!

The anchor of my soul

A few weeks ago I watched a sermon DVD by Louie Giglio lent me by my lovely friend Becca and in it he was talking about how Jesus is the anchor of our soul (Hebrews 6). As he was talking about this I looked down at my knitting, sitting untouched on the sofa beside me, and the anchors worked in fair isle in the scarf I was knitting caught my eye. That 'God-incidence' made me smile, especially as the anchor motif and its surrounding peeries had caused me more trouble than any of the others put together.

Over the past few weeks, which have been full of ups and downs (mainly in my mood) and felt turbulent and difficult, I can really say that although I feel like I am thoroughly at sea, Jesus really is the anchor of my soul. Throughout, no matter how difficult things have been, no matter how horrible I've felt or how angry I've been towards God over the past few weeks, He has never let me down or left me alone or abandoned me.

"When my heart was grieved
and my spirit embittered,
I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before you.

"Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever" Psalm 73.21-6

He is always there, always with me, always patient, always loving, always kind, always ready to listen, utterly reliable. He answers prayers, He does not leave me, does not grow short of patience, even when I run out of patience with myself! He is true, faithful, unchanging, unshifting in a world full of shifting shadows. I can see why the Psalmists so often called Him "my rock".

Don't assume from this that everything is absolutely fine and sorted in my life, it isn't, not by such a long way. I'm still ill, still depressed at times, though my moods are gradually regaining some sort of stability. I still get scared for the future and anxious and bored now; I still feel terribly sad that I can't be at church. But somehow Jesus brings into this situation, when I allow Him, inexpressible love, utter forgiveness, complete acceptance of me the way I am, comfort and some glimmer of hope: a promise that things won't always be this way and I know that He keeps His promises. I suppose that's what faith is?

Of course there are times when I don't feel this way, when I don't feel remotely positive and praying feels like beating my fists against a brick wall and I feel a million miles away from God. But these are only feelings and hopefully by writing down the truth and by reading the treasury of truth - the Bible - I can remind myself of this, remind myself of the facts.

"Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek." Hebrews 6.17-20

News from another world

Tonight I achieved my dearly held wish to make it to church for at least part of the prayer week. I'd forgotten how big our church building is - it has magnificent wooden roof beams on a scale that would today be prohibitively expensive.

God was deliciously, gloriously close and I really felt His love and Him with me, especially during the singing and the time of corporate prayer. Though I'm not sure I really know how to worship with others any more, it felt a bit strange, I suppose just from lack of practice, I'm not used to other people being there too.

I suppose I'm feeling so down and flat now because for a while I dared to dream and be part of another world that I don't usually have much contact with, then I got home and realised that I still wasn't part of that world and everything is still the same. It is like when you watch a movie and get caught up in the world of that movie; then it ends and you come back down to earth. For a while this evening, before fatigue, fever, panic and the tiles on the chancel floor making me feel seasick and weird brought me back down to earth, I dared to dream that maybe I was well enough for church. For about 15 minutes I felt fine, great even, I managed to stand through two whole songs and for a little while after that! But before I'd been out of the house two hours I was struggling to focus and stay awake and feeling physically bizarre (there is no other word for it).

The glimpse of the lives other people live didn't help either, I'm finding that the more I compare my life with that of other people the worse I feel about myself. It was yet another reminder that the church doesn't seem to have a lot of use for the ill or disabled, in order to serve in the church you need not only to be well, but turbo charged. And yes, I know how bitter that sounds. I know I need to stop comparing myself with others, for a start it's not comparing like with like. If I take life slowly and focus on each moment at a time, on the things I can do, then I can sometimes achieve some sort of contentment.

Sorry that there has been so much soul-searching on here lately: I've been having a very confusing time, quite turbulent inwardly and I don't have anyone to talk it over with, who I know and trust well enough and see anything of to talk about such things. And there has been so much inner turbulence and instability of mood that it wouldn't be fair to inflict it all on one person (though Catherine has stoically put up with plenty of it!). I think I shall start a private diary for matters spiritual, but still share some of what goes on here, partly to encourage and partly to educate anyone reading this about what it is like to be trying to survive as a sick Christian, or to make any fellow travellers feel less alone.

In the meantime I'm trying to salvage the good from the wreckage of tonight, wishing my mood were more stable and trying to ignore how much more of 'an ill person' the experience made me feel. Most of all I want to focus on God and how good He is, in spite of what a mess I am.

Wish I were there

Right now I'm feeling torn to pieces inside because there are all these wonderful things happening at church - prayer, communal meals, worship, fellowship in so many different shapes and forms - and I'm stuck here, out of it, hurting all over and so tired the ground feels like it's dragging me down. And I want to yell at God because He could make me well enough to go and He isn't and I could just cry and cry but I've got, somehow, to find a way of accepting the situation and keep on trusting Him.

The alternative is to keep hugging the anger and hurt to me and not do anything positive and keep on wallowing in negativity. After all there's nothing to say that you have to be in a particular place or even with particular people to pray for your church (or for anything else). So not being able to make it to church isn't such a disaster, true the fellowship is better there than in an empty room, but God's always here, He never goes away and we don't have to go to a particular place to meet Him.

Bizarrely just the act of writing this down, getting it off my chest, has made me feel significantly better. Letting things get pent up inside doesn't help, I'm becoming increasingly aware of that. Of late I've been so angry about things, just about being ill and my general situation and I don't know how to handle it, what to do with it, how to be less angry. Hopefully it will pass or ease soon as the side effects from those pills gradually wear off and my mood settles down again, but it could take some months to restore equilibrium - it was only a very delicate equilibrium in the first place and one that took years to achieve. In the meantime I suppose I just have to put up with the sheer instability of my moods and their tendency to plummet to the depths of despair in minutes. Sometimes I worry that I must look or come across as utterly mad.

I suppose tomorrow I've just got to find a way of glorifying God within the constraints He has put upon me, rinse, lather and repeat the next day and the next and the next. Walking (or more realistically limping) with Christ and trying to learn to trust Him.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8.28*


*please note: although I've quoted this verse here do not think that quoting it to a Christian who is going through hard times is a solve all. Having it quoted at you when things are tough by all and sundry without thought or any other form of encouragement can get extremely irksome.

Why I'm feeling sad

I think I have realised why I'm feeling sad, it's because I'm feeling rather lonely. I haven't been well enough for church group for a little while now and I haven't seen any other Christians in ages, which is so hard. What I'm longing for is some fellowship, talking about Jesus, reading the Bible, getting into it with another person or other people, praying together and for one another. And I'm so nervous of asking because I've had so many brush offs and disappointments in the past when asking for help, so many times been told simply "to rely on God" and stop asking. And of course everyone's busy. It's all so silly and I'm sure there's a logical way out of it.

At least I got some more sleep last night. I can't think of anyone to say all this to, so I'm saying it to a blog, shouting it into the internet.

Now to pick myself off, dust myself off and give myself a stiff talking to about how bad and pointless self pity is!