Lost and found

Almost a year ago, something began which I thought would bring me joy. And it did, for a while. But very quickly, the situation took me (or I allowed myself to go) to a place of darkness, pain and sorrow. It was so bad that I stopped writing. I lost my words, part of the core of my being. I lost part of my self. Those who know me well will know how significant this was. When I go silent for too long, it's not a good sign. I went quiet, I went numb with the constant hurt, and I misplaced my backbone.

 

If not for the friend who asked me where the woman she knew and loved had gone, I might still be there. If not for the friends who loved me, supported me, let me cry, didn't judge me, fed me tea and cake, listened to me, kept me company, protected me, held my hand, helped me heal and reminded me who I was, I would probably still be a puddle on the floor.

 

Instead, I have returned! I am strong, beautiful, alive, happy! So, thank you: Charli, Tina, Simon, Tracey, Rob C, Rob M, Henri, Till, Maddy, Nat, Bethan, Emma C, Siobhan, Emma A, Elizabeth S, Jane, Yiwen, Suwei, Bobby, Zoya, Egle, Dominika, and many more. Like the stars, I know you're always there - wherever in the world we are.

 

Thanks to you, I was lost but now I'm found! And the words are back :)

The lady and the cushion; the man and the tea

This is really two posts in one, two stories I felt I needed to tell. They are separate, but connected by what they meant to me, and by the loving place they came from. 

The Lady and the Cushion

I went away on retreat over the weekend, to a still, peaceful place where beauty lives. It was a gift I decided to give myself, but the giving of it cost me a lot, because I find it difficult to be kind to myself - as I suspect a lot of people do. Anyway, I spent the first couple of days in silence, trying to quiet all the internal noise I put between myself and God. For me, this is a worthwhile exercise, and a necessary once, but it's also emotionally intense and I find it challenging on many levels. The point of me telling you this is to explain that by the time Sunday morning rolled around, I was in a vulnerable place - not that this was a bad thing, but when you make the effort to open your heart, take an honest look at what's inside and turn your will to being receptive, it's going to feel raw. 

So that's where I was on Sunday morning. It was a gorgeous sunny day and after breakfast I took myself off to a quiet spot by the lake just to sit and be. It had rained the night before, so the wooden bench I chose was well and truly cold and damp but I couldn't be bothered to move so I was prepared to put up with it. It wasn't conducive to calm and relaxation though!

A few minutes later, one of the women also there on retreat came trotting cross the lawn, lugging an enormous cushion. "Right young lady, you haven't been well and you cannot, you simply cannot, sit there getting cold and damp. Honestly, it can't be comfortable! Now you sit on this, you'll feel much better." And so saying, Eileen hauled me (gently) out of my seat by the elbow, plopped down and plumped this cushion, sat me back down, threw a rug over my knees and strode away again without another word. The whole exchange probably took less than a minute but it touched me to the very core of my heart and changed the complexion of that day for me. This kind woman had seen me from the house, and decided that I couldn't be allowed to sit on a wet bench slowly freezing. She didn't have to do it, and I know it sounds like a small thing, but it was just this pure expression of loving kindness, no strings attached, and it made all the difference to me. Because the truth was that I didn't love myself enough to care for my comfort, and to find that someone else could and did was incredibly moving. God was there, in that moment, in that love. 

The man and the tea

This is something that happened a couple of years ago, and I don't know if I've since told the person involved how significant that moment was for me. If not, I hope he'll know now. 

My world had been gradually crumbling for some time, and on this day I reached a point of total collapse. There was only one place, one person I felt I could go to and so I did - even though we'd never met and he didn't know me from Eve. I will say until my dying day that God led me there, because I certainly didn't know what to do. This nice man listened to me, and really heard me, and has continued to be there for me, all of which has meant so much to me a little blog post isn't going to do it justice. But you know what rocked my world? He made me a cup of tea. That's it. That's what changed everything. Because I could not remember the last time anyone had done that for me. I'm usually the tea-maker, the care-giver, the organiser, the Martha. To be taken care of in that small way was the most loving thing I had experienced in a very long time, and it did something to my heart. It made healing possible; I felt it, but it took me a long time to understand.

The point of all this is that it doesn't take a lot. Grand gestures not necessary. A random act of kindness, which costs you nothing, can change someone's world. These two blessed mine, and I give thanks for them. 

The brolly in the downpour

A couple of Sundays ago, I emerged from church to be greeted by sunshine and a glorious blue sky, so I thought I'd go for a walk. Fair enough you'd think, in London in the summer. True, it had been raining first thing in the morning. But I'm a Londoner, so I always have a little umbrella in my bag and even if it did rain I should be fine. 

That's what I thought. But what happened as I was strolling along the King's Road was not so much a summer shower as a deluge. My little red umbrella with the pretty white hearts all over it was no match for the downpour. It had developed into one of those horizontal rains that comes at you from all sides, so that all of you is democratically drenched. I gave up and darted into the shelter of the nearest doorway, resigned to waiting it out. I had somewhere else to be but there was no point in even trying to get there if I were only going to arrive looking like a drowned rat (said the vain, vain woman). 

Just as I reached the foot-tapping stage of impatience (which took about five minutes) diversion arrived in the form of a man who had apparently decided to share my doorway. This is spite of the fact that he had not one but two enormous umbrellas over his arm -  a standard black one and a really pretty one with a pink handle, covered in roses. I was admiring this floral confection when the man held it out to me and said, "Here young lady, this is for you! That dress is too pretty to ruin in this rain." He offered me the umbrella, and I began to protest but he cut me off. "Please take it, I saw you from down the street and popped into this shop to buy it for you. It's a gift, no strings attached, just because it's Sunday and it will please me to make someone's day a little nicer."

So I thanked him, opened this gorgeous birdcage brolly and stepped out into the street, dry as a bone. "Thank you so much, this is so kind, you've made my day!" I said, genuinely thrilled. "Then you've made mine," he replied, and we went our separate ways. 

That was it. That man was a total stranger and we will probably never see each other again. He didn't have to do what he did. It was a random act of kindness, a gift given freely; it was a timely reminder of God's love and how we can be an expression of that love, one day at a time, one random act of love at a time.

TFTD - the name of love

“Forgiveness is the name of love practiced among people who love poorly. The hard truth is that all people love poorly. We need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour increasingly. That is the great work of love among the fellowship of the weak that is the human family.” 

                                                                                             - Henri J.M. Nouwen -

Offline, and completely present

Some of you may have noticed (and many of you probably didn't!) my absence from the world of Facebook, e-mail, Blogger, and the internet in general. I realise it might be a bit late to say this, but don't panic! Nothing is/was wrong. I was not lying in a ditch somewhere, or in a hospital. I had not lost the will to live, there was no catastrophe - well, not more so than usual :) I was just going to spend a month seeing friends and decided that I would quite like to be with them, right then and there, in the moment. I wanted to be completely present, to be able to give my total attention to the people who are important to me; not sitting at the same table updating some online account instead of engaging with the person in front of me (ps a little phone activity is fine provided one recognises one is stepping outside of the moment and acknowledges that, and steps right back in toute suite!).

No, nothing was wrong; everything was right. We are so used to coordinating our lives online, but I really did not feel I had lost anything by choosing to opt out for a little while. My friends accepted my lack of internet access (almost) without a murmur, and we all adapted fairly quickly! Everyone I wanted to see has my mobile number and I theirs, so getting in touch was not a problem. Where contact details were missing, there was always a mutual friend to bridge the gap. On occasion, we even made plans for future meetings face to face! One friend came to London from Germany (and I will be forever touched and grateful for the 19-hour coach trip he endured each way), and didn't bring his phone. There was me with no internet, him with no phone, and surprise surprise, we managed to coordinate an initial meeting and then several more, and I saw lots more of him than I did of other, technically more accessible people :) We found a way, and I was reminded that when you really do love someone, when you really do want to see them, you will make the effort and you will find a way.

There is something incredibly life-affirming, and love-affirming, about taking the time to slow down for the sake of another person. For no particular reason, just because you want to. Without the instant, constant updates, I spent a lot more time having real conversations with people I care about. We talked, often over coffee/tea and cake, about things we probably would not have "chatted" about. We went for walks, we wandered into the unexpected, we encountered beautiful things, people and places we did not and could not have planned to, but which lit up our world for a moment. I felt, for the first time in a long time, that I was living life and not merely passing through.

I am back online now and glad to be, because this is an important means of communications and it enables me to keep in touch with a lot of people I would otherwise probably simply lose contact with. I don't think the internet is a bad thing, far from it. I just think it's nice to be reminded from time to time that it's a tool, not something that should define us or our relationships. So, while I am glad to be back, I am not going to forget in a hurry that my world, online and off, would be nothing without the communities and individuals that people it, and bless me with the sharing of their love, support, friendship, joys, sorrows, brilliant ideas, laughter, prayer, hugs and so much more. My world would be nothing without you. 

TFTD - Everybody hurts, sometimes

"If you do not transform your pain, you will always transmit it."

                                                                                   - Richard Rohr -

TFTD - You're just too good to be true

"It's too bad I'm not as wonderful a person as people say I am, because the world could use a few people like that."

                                                                                                 - Alan Alda -

We can but try!

TFTD - Everlasting love

"The friendship of Jesus is lasting.  Other friends may grow old and cold.  It is not so with the friendship of our Savior.  Other friends may possibly misunderstand us, Jesus never.  His love is the same in youth as in old age.  The friendship will rather grow stronger in old age.  When you have lost what to you seemed everything, and you find yourself friendless and alone, despised and forsaken, Jesus will be your dear and precious friend."

                                                                                             - Leaves of Gold -

TFTD - No time like the present

"You who are letting miserable misunderstandings run on from year to year, meaning to clear them up some day; you who are keeping wretched quarrels alive because you cannot quite make up your minds that now is the day to sacrifice your pride and kill them; you who are letting your neighbor starve until you hear that he is dying of starvation or letting your friend's heart ache for a word of appreciation or sympathy, which you mean to give him some day; if you could only know and see and feel all of a sudden that time is short, how it would break the "spell."  How you would go instantly and do the thing which you might never have another chance to do."

                                                                                                   - Phillips Brooks -

TFTD - A friend indeed

"I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar." 

                                                                                 - Robert Brault -

The Day's Result

The Day’s Result

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?

Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today?

The day is almost over and its toiling time is through;

Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along,

Or a churlish sort of “Howdy”; then vanish in the throng?

Were you selfish, pure and simple, as you rushed along your way,

Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today?

Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that’s slipping fast,

That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed?

Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said?

Does the man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead?

Did you waste the day or lose it, was it well or poorly spent?

Did you leave a trail of kindness, or a scar of discontent?

As you close your eyes in slumber, do you think that God would say,

“You have earned one more tomorrow by the work you did today?”

                                                                                - Unknown -

Post #100 - Serendipity

I thought long and hard about what to write in this, my 100th post, because I wanted it to be special. And I came up with lots of things, which you'll get to read about over the next few weeks :) But what I ended up choosing pretty much chose me. I am a great believer in God's grace - all that I have been, all that I am and all that I aspire to and will ever be, I believe comes from the Grace of an ever-loving God. Very often, I have found that this grace manifests itself in what I can only call serendipity. For example:

- I never planned to meet the people who have become my most treasured friends; we were just put in the right place at the right time so we could share one another's lives.

- The best decision I have made for a good few years, I made in a moment of crisis and to this day I still can't tell you why I did it. My world was falling apart, I didn't know what to do or where to go, and a voice in my heart told me to knock on the college chaplain's door - I had seen him around but had never really spoken to him and my regular church was outside of college. I would not have made it through 2010 and beyond without Tim, Jane and so many wonderful people who came into my life through the Chaplaincy, but I honestly had nothing to do with the gift that was given me.

- The right word always seems to come my way just when I need it most, sometimes via totally random text message, usually from one of the spectacular people I'm privileged to call friend, often when they (and I) had no idea I needed to hear what they were going to say to me.

And while I was trying to decide what to write, three people wrote me three separate messages, all of which came at exactly the right time, and all of which touched my heart and made such a difference to me, though they couldn't have known that.

So, in honour of grace, serendipity, and the right word at the right time, I am posting a prayer below which itself only ever saw the light of day because of, well, serendipity! It's by Paolo Coelho and originally appeared on his blog. You can read the story here. For now, I am thankful for the grace of God that shines in my life, and in yours, whether we know it or not.

The prayer that I forgot (Paolo Coelho)

Lord, protect our doubts, because Doubt is a way of praying. It is Doubt that makes us grow because it forces us to look fearlessly at the many answers that exist to one question. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our decisions, because making Decisions is a way of praying. Give us the courage, after our doubts, to be able to choose between one road and another. May our YES always be a YES and our NO always be a NO. Once we have chosen our road, may we never look back nor allow our soul to be eaten away by remorse. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our actions, because Action is a way of praying. May our daily bread be the result of the very best that we carry within us. May we, through work and Action, share a little of the love we receive. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our dreams, because to Dream is a way of praying. Make sure that, regardless of our age or our circumstances, we are capable of keeping alight in our heart the sacred flame of hope and perseverance. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, give us enthusiasm, because Enthusiasm is a way of praying. It is what binds us to the Heavens and to Earth, to grown-ups and to children, it is what tells us that our desires are important and deserve our best efforts. It is Enthusiasm that reaffirms to us that everything is possible, as long as we are totally committed to what we are doing. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect us, because Life is the only way we have of making manifest Your miracle. May the earth continue to transform seeds into wheat, may we continue to transmute wheat into bread. And this is only possible if we have Love; therefore, do not leave us in solitude. Always give us Your company, and the company of men and women who have doubts, who act and dream and feel enthusiasm, and who live each day as if it were totally dedicated to Your glory.

What I learned from my dog

Yesterday, on the first day of the new year, my dog passed away. He had been with me for 18 years, having spent his first year abandoned before we rescued him - just as he was running out of time and the SPCA was about to put him down. Max was saved, and though he was "only" a dog, his life had purpose and meaning. He was part of a plan, and his life has shown me how crucial we can be to God's plan, even if we don't know it; even if we do nothing else but simply live. 

Max taught me so many things - even if it did take me some time to recognise some of them. He taught me:-

* That true love really doesn't think of itself. He was fiercely protective, and in turn, I would have done anything for him.

* That sometimes, love means letting go.

* To love with my whole heart.

* To always be happy to see the people I love.

* To smile a lot.

* Never to hold a grudge. (He was really good at this; I am still working on it!)

* To forgive, quickly and willingly - though that doesn't mean allowing people to walk all over you time and again. He was no pushover :)

* To approach each new day and every new experience with enthusiasm - even the walk he took pretty much every day of his life was utterly thrilling to him, every single time.

* To be grateful for the small things. I've never met anyone so happy to be given a single scoop of vanilla ice cream :)

* To show affection to the ones I care for, freely and often.

* To be patient (no one was as patient as Max waiting for us to finish what we were doing and take him for a walk / to the park / for a drive. That dog could out-wait the most determined procrastinator... And he was so patient when he fell ill it inspired me even while it broke my heart.)

* To be tolerant.

* To never give up, but to know when to let go.

* To be strong, but to know it's not weak to lean on someone else.
* To be brave, and it's ok to be afraid.

* To share, no matter how much or how little I have.

* To think of others.

* To be sensitive to how others feel, and to freely offer sympathy and a hand (paw) to hold.

* To just be there for those I love, unfailingly.

* To give lots of cuddles.

* To be humble.

* To trust and have faith. Max never doubted that I would love him and keep him safe. If my little dog could have such absolute faith in me, why do I have trouble putting my life in God's hands as completely and willingly as Max put his in mine?

* To be loyal.

* To never be afraid to show my joy - or to share my sadness with those who love me.

* To feel the wind and the sunshine on my face and rejoice, just because. 

* To take pleasure in every meal, and just enjoy it for what it is.

* To get enough sleep!

* To protect and defend those I love. 

* To live in the moment. Max had mastered this, and I think a lot of his happiness came from this place! This is a big one, and I'm going to keep trying because so much comes from this one thing.

* What you look like doesn't matter. It's what's in your heart, and in your soul (though Max was utterly gorgeous). 

* What someone else looks like, how much they know or what they have really really doesn't matter - what does matter is their heart and how they treat you.
* Things don't matter. People do.

* To treat others with respect.

* To be silly sometimes.

* To play, every chance I get.

* To laugh, a lot.

* To be kind.

* To enjoy every day to its fullest, whether you are deaf, blind, ill, in a wheelchair or in pain. Max enjoyed life right to the very end, and se he got every last possible atom of joy out of it, and gave even more.

* To give more than you receive.

*To be thankful.

* To sit under the shade of a tree on a hot day now and then.

* To do nothing from time to time, but just be, and not feel guilty about it.

* To accept praise, attention and recognition without excusing it away.

* To accept love without minimising it.

* To accept that I am worthy of love without questioning it.

Just by living, Max taught me all this and much much more. Not bad for a little dog, huh?

My darling Max, always smiling

At rest, in his favourite place, under the most fragrant flowering tree in the garden

New Year's Prayer

God grant us this year a wider view,
So we see others' faults through the eyes of You.
Teach us to judge not with hasty tongue,
Neither the adult ... nor the young. 

Give us patience and grace to endure 
And a stronger faith so we feel secure. 
Instead of remembering, help us forget
The irritations that caused us to fret. 

Freely forgiving for some offense
And finding each day a rich recompense.
In offering a friendly, helping hand 
And trying in all ways to understand; 

That all of us whoever we are ... 
Are trying to reach an unreachable star.
For the great and small ... the good and bad,
The young and old ... the sad and glad

Are asking today; Is life worth living? 
The answer is only in, loving and giving.
For only Love can make man kind
And Kindness of Heart brings Peace of Mind.

By giving love, we can start this year
To lift the clouds of hate and fear.


                                                                    - Helen Steiner Rice - 
* In memory of Max

The day breaks and the shadows flee this Christmas time

"I salute you. I am your friend, and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not already; but there is much, very much, which though I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven. No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this precious little instant. Take peace. The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and courage in the darkness could we but see it; and to see, we have only to look. Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their coverings, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, and wisdom, and power. Welcome it, greet it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it.

Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there, the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing Presence. Our joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts. Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty beneath its covering, that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage, then, to claim it, that is all! But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims wending through unknown country our way home.

And so, at this Christmas time, I greet you, not quite as the world sends greeting, but with profound esteem now and forever.

The day breaks and the shadows flee away."

-This old Christmas greeting from a letter written between 1387-1455 by Giovanni da Fiesole (Fra Angelico)

TFTD

"You have it easily in your power to increase the sum total of this world's happiness now. How? By giving a few words of sincere appreciation to someone who is lonely or discouraged. Perhaps you will forget tomorrow the kind words you say today, but the recipient may cherish them over a lifetime."

                                                                                                 - Dale Carnegie -

The warrior's gift

There once was a boy named Kimeli Naiyomah. A member of a Masai tribe, he grew up in a small rural town near the Masai Mara National Reserve in Kenya. The town had no water, roads, phones or electricity.  Kimeli had no father, his grandmother had been murdered, and his mother was battling alcoholism. One day, Kimeli went to the hospital with his ailing mother. He didn't know what the people who helped her were called, but he knew he wanted to be a healer, just like them. 

No one Kimeli knew had ever gone to school, much less to university. There was no such thing in his village. But Kimeli had a dream. He wanted to learn. So he ran away, to another village where he had heard children were being taught under a tree. What was under that tree was a church school, and it became Kimeli's school as well as his home. 

When he outgrew the school under the tree, Kimeli found the nearest secondary school - nine hours away on foot. He walked to the school and told the principal he had no money, no shoes, no books, no uniform and no family, but he wanted to learn. The principal welcomed him with open arms. 

By now, Kimeli knew the name of the person he wanted to become: Doctor. He started applying to universities in America, and the elders of his tribe got together and raised $5,000 to help him achieve his goal. A Washington Post reporter somehow got wind of Kimeli's story, and came to his village to write an article about him. The article inspired an outpouring of support, including a scholarship offer from the University of Orgeon, a plane ticket from a businessman in Florida, and clothes and other essentials paid for by yet another total stranger. 

Kimeli enrolled at the University of Oregon in 1996, and after getting his grades up, was later admitted to Stanford. Kimeli became a celebrity in Kenya. In September 2001 the President of Kenya was scheduled to be in New York and Kimeli was invited to meet him. That is how Kimeli came to be in New York on September 11, 2001. 

As a Masai warrior, Kimeli had been trained to run to the scene of a crisis, not away from it. He knew he could not help at Ground Zero, but he also knew he had to do something for the country that had given him so much. So, on a trip home in May 2002, Kimeli asked to meet the elders of his tribe. He told them all about 9/11, which many of his people hadn't even heard of. They could not imagine buildings so tall and had never seen an aeroplane. 

Kimeli wanted to buy a cow, the most precious property a Masai can own, and give it to the American people. In Kimeli's tradition, a cow is not only tremendously valuable, but is also thought to bring great comfort to its owner. Kimeli just wanted his elders' blessing, but the elders were so inspired by his plan that they wanted to do the same thing. In the end, 14 cows were pledged to America to help bring her peace. 

In June 2002, US charges d'affaires William Brencick travelled to Kimeli's village to formally accept the cows. More than a thousand people were in attendance, bearing messages of support like "We are touched by your loss" and "We give these cows to bring you peace".  But logistical and monetary problems prevented the US from taking possession of the cows. It would cost more than the cows were worth to transport them, and African cattle were not allowed in the US. There was also concern that the cows would not survive the journey. The Masai could not understand why the US accepted the gift but did not take the cows away. Washington Times columnist Tony Blankley wondered how the US could get 80,000 troops into Afghanistan but could not get 14 cattle out of Africa. 

Four years later, all was made right. The then-US Ambassador travelled to Kimeli's village to strike a deal for the tribe to take care of "America's herd" in perpetuity. In return, and in gratitude, the Ambassador announced the establishment of a scholarship for 14 boys and girls in the village to go to local schools. Those scholarships continue to this day, and the herd continues to grow. Since the original herd was blessed, they and their descendants are considered sacred and can never be slaughtered. Kimeli's tribe lovingly tends 35 "American cattle", all of which have special Twin Towers markings on their ears. 

The church playground

There is a church on a hill, about five minutes from my childhood home. If I stand at the front gate, I can see the madonna who gazes down from under the eaves, watching over the neighbourhood. This church sits on a sizeable piece of land, and behind the main building, there used to be an absolutely enormous playground. My grandfather took me there pretty much every day when I was little, carrying me up the hill on his shoulders; he's been gone for 19 years now, and I still miss seeing certain places from that 6'2" elevation.

That playground was amazing. Half of it was in a giant sandpit, and the other half was cushioned by a lush, velvety carpet of emerald grass dotted with baby's breath and some tiny purple flowers whose name I don't know. There were ladders and slides, a rope-plank bridge, swings, turreted towers and even a drawbridge. I was a bit of a tomboy and a bit of a princess and in that playground, I could be both. Or I could be Tarzan, a knight on a quest, the queen of the pirates and a princess strolling along the battlements - all in the same day. When we'd been going to the playground for a while, my grandfather started serving at mass - which meant that now I could play up on the altar as well! Those patient priests didn't seem to mind a 3-year-old crawling under the table while they were preparing communion and told the altar boys to take care not to knock me out with the incense burner. 

My playground was demolished a few years ago, to make room for more parking, but there's still a prayer garden in one corner. I was sitting there for the first time in years one day when Father A came and sat on the bench next to me. I hadn't seen him since my grandfather's memorial service, a year after his death, when I was still a child. But Father A had seen me from the vicarage window and somehow recognised me. 

All those years ago, Father A would come play a game or two with me in my playground, then sit and talk with Papa for what felt like ages. Now, he told me what they had spoken about - God, mainly. Then, Papa wasn't Christian. My grandmother would take me to church every Sunday, but he wasn't interested. He'd been married in church, and he'd come to my baptism, but that was it. Suddenly, he found himself talking to a Catholic priest every day. Then he was baptised and confirmed, started serving in church, and became a man of stronger faith than anyone else in the house, all of whom had lived in the church from the cradle. Just before he died, Papa told me that his faith had saved his life.

Father A told me he didn't think Papa would have been open to those conversations about God in any other context. He came to that playground because of me, he kept going for my sake, and he liked trusted Father A first of all because I did. Finally, Father A said, "He believed because he could see Christ in you."

That is a huge thing to hear, and I made a decision not to analyse it and talk myself out of believing it, only because I know that whatever I think or feel about myself, God's love for me is perfect. The point is, I didn't have to do anything to bring someone to God. All I had to do was be. And if that was my entire purpose, if that is all I ever "achieve", maybe that's ok. 

A very wise friend of mine, Zainab A, puts it this way: Everything counts. Just be, because you never know what small act you do is pleasing to God. As another wise friend, Emma C, reminded me: God knows what He is doing! 

And that is the point of the church playground. God really does know what He is doing. The thing is, we don't always see it, even if we are a part of something wonderful. This life we have been given is so beautiful, intricate and complex; we are always a part of something bigger, whether we are conscious of it or not. All we have to do is be whom we were made to be. 

A Japanese-American, an Indian and an Irishman walk into a Tokyo karaoke bar...

I'm sure you've all heard about the earthquake that hit Japan on Friday afternoon. When the news broke, we happened to be watching CNN - one of those hysterical American political "debates" between a gun-toting soccer mom, a political blogger who appeared to have no knowledge whatsoever of foreign policy, and an actual reasonable expert who looked increasingly embarrassed to be part of the who circus. But I digress. 

I have friends in Tokyo, and so I sat there, glued to the screen for hours, watching buildings crumble, roads break into chunks like so much peanut brittle, and people - afraid, hurt, worried for loved ones, or just wondering how they were going to get home now that the bullet trains had ground to a halt. 

With no public transport available and the roads in chaos, most of Tokyo's workers, students and tourists resigned themselves to the long trek home, or at least towards some kind of transport in the suburbs. I wondered about my friends, J, R, and P, who I know work at one end of the city and live at the other, a pain of a commute even when everything is running smoothly. 

For this story to make sense, you need to know a little about out heroes. They met at MIT as undergraduates ten years ago, where they all did some incredibly complicated degree involving computers. J, a Japanese-American, is an amazing artist. R, originally from India, is, so they tell me, an outstanding computer programmer, and with his business nous, Irishman P could very well be the next Donald Trump, only nicer and better looking. Together, the intrepid three have been in Tokyo for the last year, working the computed game design market and aiming to set up their own company. 

Anyway, on Friday afternoon, J, R and P set out on the long walk home. They had been going for five hours when they got fed up and decided it was too cold and too dark to proceed. They looked around for somewhere to spend the night, and realised they had stopped on the threshold of a karaoke bar. Well, when the universe extends you an invitation like that, how can you say no? And so it was that a Japanese-American, and Indian and an Irishman walked into a karaoke bar in Tokyo...

The bar was already full of salarymen who'd had the same idea hours ago, if the number of empty beer bottles lying around was any indication. The arrival of fresh entertainment was greeted with gleeful shouts of "boyband des-ne!", giggles and guffaws. Before they knew what was happening, the mic was wrenched from the slightly desperate grasp of a middle-aged middle manager who had been subjecting the bar to a very morose rendition of My Way, J, R and P were (gently) pushed up onto the stage, beers appearing miraculously in one hand and mics in the other, and the boys found themselves performing The Osmonds' Crazy Horses, quite a bit of the Backstreet Boys early material, a Motown medley, and finally, a life-affirming I Will Survive to which the entire bar sang along. 

The next morning, the erstwhile bar flies did what they could to help one another on their way. The next few weeks, or months, are going to be anything but fun and games for the people affected by the earthquake and subsequent tsunami. But I give thanks for the resilience of the human spirit, and for the fact that these people were able to snatch some joy from a situation that was anything but. As long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive. 

Knitterati

Every Tuesday afternoon, Knitterati meets in the Waterloo chaplaincy. We sit, we knit, we drink tea, we chat, and we make terrible jokes and fall about laughing. At Knitterati, there will always be someone to make you a cup of tea or coffee, and to teach you to knit if you don't already know how. You can rant about whatever is currently infuriating you, and the knitting circle will embrace you. Literally. It's an excellent place to let off some steam, and boy do we ever. J, our chaplain, must feel like she's in charge of a roomful of very naughty, highly caffeinated and over-sugared children. And indeed she is. Which is not to say there is no room for adult conversation. It's just that we tend to cover a wide variety of topics. It must be the only place aside from Radio 4's Woman's Hour where you get discussions on everything from root vegetables to torture over the course of the same session.  Today, for instance, the conversation included knitting technique, sex, religion, food, the role of social networking in modern politics and warfare, relationships, pigeons (disposal of), the augmentation of the Maltese air force, moral philosophy, literature, tweed, vocations and hats. I kid you not. And I've probably left out quite a lot of material. But you get the picture. Anything goes, because Knitterati is a safe space (will all the knitters please stop giggling!). 

Usually, the demographic Knitterati attracts is mainly female - don't throw a hissy fit S, I did say mainly! Today however, was a special day. We had two, count them, two, men present, besides the usual chaps who happen to be passing through, or who have already embraced knitting (we only have one committed specimen of the latter and he is precious to us). These rare creatures were D and RC. D did not knit, but with his magnificent moustache, his tweed, his Indiana Jones hat and his sense of humour, his entertainment value is a significant contribution to any gathering. 

RC however, was a triumph. RC is one of our sacristans, and a couple of us spent quite a bit of time over the weekend trying to persuade him to come to Knitterati and have his life enriched. And he came! He didn't condescend, he didn't mock us - no, he learnt to knit! And may I say, he is a natural. He mastered the basic stitch in about 10 seconds, produced a professional-looking square, and even cast off with only a minor mishap. RC might be the quickest student we have ever had.

The point of all this is that Knitterati is not just a knitting circle. It is a place to unwind and have fun, and it is an oasis of positivity and peace in the midst of a very stressful world. I am thankful for J's original (inspired) idea, and for all the ladies (and gentlemen) who make it what it is - a blessing.