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. 

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 - 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 -

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

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. 

The crowded pew

I can't quite put my finger on why this was, but Eucharist was particularly moving today. I love that service anyway - being reminded of the sacrifice made for me in the name of love never ceases to touch me. And there's something about worshipping together, sharing communion, being part of this community that stretches back in time, out in space, and forwards to tomorrow that makes me feel held, anchored, safe. I get a sense of peace in the Eucharist that I regularly find only there and maybe a couple of other places. 

That said, one of the nice things about today was the crowded pew I was in. There was a Muslim boy on my left, a Quaker girl on my right (I love you both), and another five of us  - I don't know about the others but the three of us were certainly snuggled up nice and close! Then there were dear, dear friends further along, behind me, and across the aisle - not to mention up at the altar doing the "magic hands" :) So when we were sharing the peace, I just thought how lucky I was that just in this one place there were so many people I love, who love me. So much love, just in this one room - just on that one crowded pew!

And every single week, when everyone else has gone down to lunch, my wonderful friend, EC, stays with me in the empty chapel and we pray. For her, for me, for us, for the people we love, for anything and everything. It is one of the most precious times in my week, this time I spend in prayer with my kind, loving, beloved friend. I know she reads this and I want her to know that. 

So if the pew is a metaphor for my life, I'm never there alone. There are plenty of loving people squeezed on there with me - Jewish, Anglican, Roman Catholic, Muslim, Quaker - and I wouldn't have it any other way. Not for all the elbow room in the world. 

Tea and sympathy. And good advice. And a laugh. And a chocolate biscuit if you're lucky!

I know someone who, on a regular basis, will make me a cup of tea, then sit and talk with me for an hour so I can work through things or just get them off my chest, or will just sit with me while I cry, and then pray for me. To be fair, there are a couple of people who are willing to do this, which sometimes feels like way more than I deserve.

For me, it becomes impossible to seriously doubt God's presence, His love, or the fact that He wants the best for me, when I look at the people He has brought into my life - so often exactly when I needed them, even if I didn't know it.

So I will be eternally grateful to and for these people, who willingly walk into the dark places with me and because of the way they shine,  remind me that God's light is always there.

A hug

I'm not talking about the quick hug hello (although that can be very nice indeed), and I'm definitely not talking about the "social hug". You know, the one people give away like a handshake, the one that doesn't mean anything, that's just the habit in certain circles - the hug equivalent of the air kiss. 

No, this is the hug someone gives you when they really mean it. It's the kind of hug you might get from a good friend, a parent or a lover; a squeeze that brings with it plenty of affection and an inexplicable sense of comfort. It can say: 

-I'm so glad you're here;

- Your friendship is important to me and I love you;

- I'm sorry you're having a hard day;

-It's going to be ok;

- I don't know if it's going to be ok, but I'm here for you; 

-I'm sorry;

-Congratulations!

-I think you're amazing;

-I love you; 

-I love you;

-I love you;

-Just because.

The best thing that happened to me today was getting a hug, from someone who just knew I needed one.  It was a little thing, and it cost nothing, but it meant a lot to me. It was an anchor, something to hold on to  when I felt like I was about to be swept away in the current of circumstances beyond my control. And I feel blessed today, because of a hug.

Chaplaincies

My personal blessing for today is an on-going one. Chaplaincies in general, and my university chaplaincy in particular.

The first time I spoke to my college chaplain, I was having a bad day, in the middle of a bad week, in the midst of a bad month. I really felt as if my life was falling to pieces. And suddenly, it popped into my head that the place to go to was the chaplaincy, even though I'd never been involved with them. So I turned up outside the chaplain's office, which was shut, and decided to camp there until the chaplain returned. It just wasn't possible for me to be anywhere else. I felt like it was the only safe place in the world.

When the chaplain turned up, he sat with me, listened, let me cry, and then prayed with me - even though I'd cornered him half an hour before college Eucharist, not the best time. It was that kindness that made it possible for me to get through the day.

Our chaplaincy is a blessing that gives every day. It means there is always a place to go and just be, always someone who will listen and try to help or just sit with you, always someone who will join their heart with yours in prayer, always someone who will make you a cup of tea and offer you a biscuit! It is friendly, loving and prayerful, and a lot of fun.

So, I am thankful for this chaplaincy, its chaplains and the work they do, and for all those in universities, hospitals, prisons, airports, military camps and war zones, all over the world.