Now we are (twenty)-six

I turned twenty-six a couple of weeks and I'm still trying to adjust to being a really very adult age. It is the sort of age where one should have one's life beginning to be on track and heading somewhere, career, own place, own life; only I don't. Yet another birthday has come and gone and I'm still here, still sick, still at home, still seemingly going nowhere. Once again I need to look to God and remember that He "knows what He's a-doing of" and that He looks at things differently. Looking to Him, trusting in Him, pressing on to know Him are the things that matter, whether I have an independent life or not and remember that He loves me just as I am.

I also need to return to looking at the small good things of life, the

perspective that can bring sanity and even content to hard times. I was very blessed on my birthday, my mother and sister collaborated to make me a cake and I received many lovely cards and presents and was even sent flowers - via Interflora! My supply of reading matter for the next couple of months is assured, though I have already savoured and enjoyed Henrietta Sees It Through by Joyce Dennys - an utter delight and brilliant evocation of the small things in life, much in the same vein as Jan Struther's Mrs Miniver.

Naturally my haul included knitting related items, my good friend Peppermintpenguin (her ravelry name) sewed me a lovely project bag, and I had several gorgeous knitting books including More Last Minute Knitted Gifts and Alice Starmore's famous Fair Isle book (reprint, not the original). So as you can see, I have very little to complain about really.

While I am twenty-six I must re-read A A Milne's excellent book of verse

Now We Are Six, a book I remember with affection from my childhood - as a passing note I would recommend Milne's writings for adults as well as his renowned Winnie the Pooh books. I can still remember turning six, in pre-prep 1 at school, feeling tremendously grown up and having a lovely party. On that note of nostalgia I shall return to my knitting as I need to get more socks made.

Tum te tum te tum te tum...

This past couple of weeks I have been wallowing in Archers nostalgia following the 60th anniversary episode on the first Sunday of the year, in between incandescent fury at the content of that particular episode, the outcome of which must now be well known. Why Nigel? One of the nicest characters in the programme, I loved episodes with him in, you always knew that he would be up to some fresh plan, full of his latest enthusiasm, be it allotments, wine making or his shire horse. The ineptitude with which the episode was written has only added to the sense of outrage, it was third rate melodrama, or like a bad detective novel in which the average reader can surmise the entire plot within the first chapter. Nigel's death was as meaningless as Grace Archer's death more than fifty years earlier, only she was given the dignity of a decent send off. Having recently listened again to that episode, timed co-incidently for the night ITV started, it was a good, well written piece of drama that crucially rang true in a way that Nigel's accident did not.

Vanessa Whitburn (programme editor) et al have not shown themselves at their best through this entire incident, in the storyline, the writing, the way that actors and listeners have been treated or their feeble attempts to gain listeners through sensationalism. This is The Archers, not Eastenders: no one tunes into The Archers for sensational happenings and unending woe, it is the quiet everyday rhythm of life in the countryside that is so attractive. Phil and Jill competing in the cake baking at the village fete, lambing, harvest, Joe and Eddie Grundie attempting to make a dishonest buck, chat outside the village shop, even Lynda Snell interfering and posing, are the sorts of storylines we love. I am also mystified as to why a programme that attracts more than five million listeners feels a need to employ cheap tricks in an apparent bid to gain listeners. What about the existing listeners, or are we not important?

I'm now aware that I have gone on for a considerable period of time about a radio programme, however, I do feel incredibly strongly about this, not only have I listened since before I can remember, but my father has also listened since before he can remember. My grandparents listened, many of my friends listen; it is a part of my life. The Archers truly matters and "the powers that be" need to remember that they are not just running a radio programme but a national institution that plays an important part in many people's lives.

12000m

A bit over a year ago I registered for a website called knitmeter.com which, as the name suggests, is a tool for recording how much yarn you have knit up over a period of a week, a month or a year. As a bit of fun at the start of this year I decided to see if I could knit 1000 metres a month during this year and yesterday I hit my ultimate target of having knit more than 12000m in 2010 - 12040m to be exact. I may stop using the site though, because at times it made knitting a little bit stressful - worrying that I hadn't hit my "target" for the month, even though the target was utterly meaningless.

So there is one of my plans for the year achieved, if an odd one. My other 'resolution' or aim last year was to knit a pair of socks a month, which I almost achieved - I made 11 socks over the year - though I've still got half a sock on the needles. As of today I have finished the seriously warm knee high socks I started on Christmas day so that should help in the next cold spell.

For 2011 I would like to knit at least one item a month for charity - probably for St Mungo's mainly - and also keep developing design ideas. In non-knitted areas of life I would like to get back on the Weightwatchers waggon, having fallen off in a spectacular fashion over Christmas, and keep living more healthily and losing weight. It would be good to make up the Clothkits bag kit I bought ages ago and generally improve my sewing skills, learn to use my new camera and I would like to keep blogging and keep writing. Otherwise generally keeping on building on the CBT skills I learned earlier in the year and be able to be less at the mercy of my mood, and be more sociable and probably most importantly keep walking closely with Jesus. I pray I can keep pressing on into God, rather than just drifting along, get to know Him better and study His word more, grow as a Christian.

Most of all I'd like to get better, but that's more in the "pipe dream" end of things! I have no idea what the next year will contain or whether I'll manage the things detailed above, I sincerely hope so, but I know that God will be with me through the year and that He will never leave me or forsake me, so that's the important stuff covered.

Merry Christmas!

I'm afraid I've been rather lax on blogging of late, been horribly tired and struggling to keep up with Christmas preparations. There's just so much to do in the run up to Christmas and lots of meeting up with people, though I've been doing less than most people I suspect!

However, now decorations are up, fairy lights that work have been located, cake has been made and iced and presents have been knitted and even wrapped up. I'm sad that I've not been able to make it to church or to do many of the things I'd wanted to do for Christmas or in the run up to Christmas. But the extra time I've had to think has been helpful and has led me to realise that we put far too much pressure on ourselves over Christmas. There exists this mythical "perfect Christmas" that we've seen all over the media, from tv adverts advising shopping at a particular supermarket for "the perfect Christmas" to magazine fronts emblazoned with "top tips for that perfect Christmas you've always dreamed of". However, the truth is that the perfect Christmas has already happened, more than 2000 years ago, in Bethlehem and the main celebrants were a group of shepherds and some "magi from the east". Nothing can ever better that Christmas, prepared with infinite care and yet some apparent glaring omissions (such as hotel bookings) by our gracious, loving Father to bring us the best gift ever. All we are doing is celebrating that this has already happened, marking the occasion, so no pressure. If the gravy is lumpy and the presents held up in the post and the Christmas tree a bit askew, it doesn't matter.

What matters is Emmanuel - God with us, made flesh, coming to save the lost. So have a lovely Christmas, if you want to. I leave with you with John Betjeman's poem Christmas, which puts what I have been trying to say far better than I ever can.

The bells of waiting Advent ring,

The Tortoise stove is lit again

And lamp-oil light across the night

Has caught the streaks of winter rain

In many a stained-glass window sheen

From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge

And round the Manor House the yew

Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,

The altar, font and arch and pew,

So that the villagers can say

'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,

Corporation tramcars clang,

On lighted tenements I gaze,

Where paper decorations hang,

And bunting in the red Town Hall

Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve

Are strung with silver bells and flowers

As hurrying clerks the City leave

To pigeon-haunted classic towers,

And marbled clouds go scudding by

The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,

And oafish louts remember Mum,

And sleepless children's hearts are glad.

And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'

Even to shining ones who dwell

Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,

This most tremendous tale of all,

Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,

A Baby in an ox's stall ?

The Maker of the stars and sea

Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,

No loving fingers tying strings

Around those tissued fripperies,

The sweet and silly Christmas things,

Bath salts and inexpensive scent

And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,

No carolling in frosty air,

Nor all the steeple-shaking bells

Can with this single Truth compare -

That God was man in Palestine

And lives today in Bread and Wine.

Cold weather, good books and an unexpected parcel

Yet again it has been a while since I last posted and I feel like an update is more than overdue. I am currently most relieved that the weather has returned to something akin to its senses and is no longer so Siberian in its nature. The first week of snow felt like the longest week ever, with everyone cooped up in the house and everything cancelled, though the first of the pair of socks I was knitting for Dad's Christmas present made quite admirable progress. The post still hasn't caught up with itself which is infuriating as I am waiting for a lot of parcels, mainly Christmas related. Lately I've been finding the cold harder and harder to deal with and a trip to the doctor's on Wednesday confirmed what I feared, namely that I have Raynaud's Phenomenon/disease, a circulatory problem where insufficient blood gets to your extremities - in my case mainly my fingers are effected - meaning they feel the cold very badly and can be painful. My finger tips spent the week of the snow changing colour between white, red and blue, which was at the very least patriotic of them.

It is never pleasant to receive yet another diagnosis, especially when it is yet another condition for which nothing can be done, aside in this case from wearing gloves (what did the doctor think I was doing?!). Although I suppose it is good to know that I'm not just being a sook or a wuss: my body genuinely does find cold weather hard to deal with. Partly to "treat" this and partly to cheer myself up I have ordered some Malabrigo worsted to knit the Bird in Hand mittens by Kate Gilbert. I cannot think of warmer or softer mittens!

The good books have included Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol; although the story is a familiar one I couldn't remember whether I'd actually read the original book and having just finished it I recommend it heartily. Not only is it a great story exceptionally well told, it is also a superb portrait of Victorian London and a book that gets a great message across about Christmas. I would particularly recommend it to my fellow Christians, although it is not "a Christian book", it contains a lot of the spirit of what is best in our faith and speaks eloquently of the capacity for even the most calloused heart to change. For those who find the idea of Dickens daunting, I would add that this is a short novelette or short story, that moves at a fair pace and does not contain a lot of the slower more ponderous passages contained in many Victorian novels (mainly there for the purpose of stretching them to the prescriptive length required for the customary three volume novels of the time).

My other reading material lately has included The Deaf Sentence by David Lodge, the campus novel moving into retirement, a clever and engaging novel, and some more titles from Persephone books. Persephone is a company I cannot praise enough or recommend enough: their books never disappoint. This time I borrowed Operation Heartbreak by Duff Cooper from my mother's bookshelves, another comparatively short novel but well written, Cooper has the power to make you care about his characters and he writes from a perspective of authority on the period - during which he was a minister in Winston Churchill's government. He is writing of his generation, the generation George Orwell (in his novel Coming Up for Air) feared would be forgotten, a generation whose lives had been sandwiched between two world wars. Although this has not (yet) happened, the first war left a huge scar on the generation who fought in it and Operation Heartbreak provided an angle on this that I had never seen before. Now I have moved onto The Closed Door by Dorothy Whipple - more on that anon.

Lastly the unexpected parcel... I won a competition! Just a prize draw one, but the prize is enormous, the biggest parcel of knitting related goodies you ever saw! I took a photo of it (I'll try to get the photo onto here in the morning, for now it's on flickr). I'm still getting over the shock! Anyhow that is quite sufficient for now, I always get long winded when I get onto books! Hopefully next time some thoughts on 1 &2 Samuel and the life of king David, my recent Bible reading.

Mustard Seeds

"Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17.20

This week I have mainly been listening to a new album called Mustard Seeds, which is extremely awesome. Click on that link, get listening then read on!

At this point I should probably declare that I know the musician behind the album from university, I liked his music then and I like it now. The songs are both musically and lyrically strong and musically more interesting than a lot of the Christian music on the market, which can all sound rather homogeneous. Musically the songs are at times resonant of Nick Drake, at other times calling to mind church music of a more traditional and even ancient kind - harmonies hinting at cathedrals filled with Gregorian chant. The sound and scale of the album is quiet and intimate, allowing you to draw near to God and spend precious time in His presence, yet would also work in a more corporate setting. In the lyrics are some great promises and some great prayers, for example,

May your grace reform this church from a crowd of sinners to a holy loving force with your pow'r within us. May we yearn to serve and may we love with fervent hearts by grace restored.

Such a fabulous picture of what the church is and is becoming (from Designer, Refiner).

Rather than attempt to review the whole album I will just focus on the last song, To the God of the Broken Ones which has resonated with me and my life hugely.

To the God of the broken ones,
To the God where all hope comes from,
We sing come heal us, come heal us

To the God who is always there,
To the God who heals ev'ry prayer,
We sing come heal us, come heal us

Ever loving, ever Lord.
Ever faithful, ever more.
Ever gentle, ever sure.
I'm ever thankful, ever yours

To the God of unending hope,
To the God who calls us his own,
We sing come heal us, come heal us

To the God who will never change,
To the God who knows ev'ry pain,
We sing come heal us, come heal us

Ever loving, ever Lord.
Ever faithful, ever more.
Ever gentle, ever sure.
I'm ever thankful, ever yours

I love the rich promises and truths about who our God is that are contained within this song: truths that I can't hear too often, especially as it is such truths that help combat the lies of depression. My favourite of these promises and truths is "the God of unending hope" (which is really both a truth and a promise). In the midst of the storms of life it is so easy to forget that ultimately our hope lies in God himself and that He never changes, never leaves us, always loves us. This is a song that I sing as a prayer for my own life, as well as more generally for the church and the world. Moreover it is song that you can sing from wherever you happen to be, whether things are going well or whether nothing is going well, "yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my saviour" (Habbakuk 3). As someone who frequently feels like nothing is going right I truly value such songs that help me to worship despite my circumstances, because the truth is God is always good and I need more of the truth.

I have found this album cheering, uplifting, calming, comforting and inspiring; I pray you do too.

Achievements

Today I had a most exciting letter - to say that I was a runner up in Knitting magazine's "design a scarf" competition and that they wanted to print my pattern in their upcoming book of scarves!!!!!! I was so excited when I had read the letter that I was dancing around the kitchen in my pjs celebrating. Good thing the neighbours were out at the time. Pictures are available here

It means so much because I finally have an identity beyond that of a sick person, or a sick person who does a bit of knitting. I know such things don't really matter and shouldn't matter, but sometimes my ego gets in the way and memories of all my dreams and plans come back and I want more. I know being God's beloved child is infinitely more important, but I do like having a tiny bit extra. Perhaps it's the first step on the road to achieving things despite having ME and fibro?

In other news I also finished knitting the hat I've been designing to go with the scarf, just got the ends to sew in and the blocking to do and I can send that off (for the "knit a hat" competition). I'm rather relieved that this month's competition was for designing a draught excluder, since I feel no urge to design such a thing and so can have a break from manic designing! Deadlines are hard work with ME, you would have thought I would have learned that at university?

I also darned socks successfully for the first time today, my monkey socks which being knit in a pure wool with no nylon, had worn through on the heels. So all in all, apart from a slight crash (note to self - just because you have a few days of feeling a bit better don't try to cram everything you've been wanting/meaning/needing to do into those few days, it doesn't end well), today has been a good day. Praise the Lord.