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. 

The instant brother

Like many of my Christian friends, I wear a cross on a chain around my neck. It is an outward sign of my faith, but that's not the only reason I wear it. In fact, I don't think that's even the main reason. For me, it's a reminder of how I want to try to live my life, and that God is always with me - which in turn is a great comfort. It's an anchor, a talisman, a beacon. It's the world in a tiny piece of gold. And that little cross has brought me so many blessings.  

Today, I had a doctor's appointment, after which I wasn't feeling my best. My ride let me down at the last minute, due to unavoidable circumstances, so I headed to the taxi stand to catch a cab. That was the plan anyway, but I only made it halfway. There are worse places to faint than in a hospital, but I didn't want my hair all over that floor! I was leaning against the wall when a security guard making his rounds came by. He accelerated past me, and I thought no more of it. A couple of minutes later, he came bustling up with a chair! "You don't look so good, I think you'd better sit down, " he said. I sat, and he dashed off again, only to return with a cup of tea. He waited with me until I felt better, then asked how I was going to get home. When I told him he tsked, and told me that idea was a wash out - the heavy rain meant there was an endless queue and not a taxi in sight. I'd be waiting for at least an hour, maybe more. I said I had no choice, so I'd wait. The security guard pointed at my cross and said, "I can't abandon anyone, especially a sister in Christ! You wait, I'll sort this out."

He whipped out his phone and called his brother, who it turns out was a cabbie. 15 minutes later, I had my ride! While we waited, the security guard told me a little about himself, and how he believed God's grace had worked in his life. I won't repeat what he told me, but I will say I don't think I've ever met anyone with as much conviction as this man, or anyone who was so utterly filled with the joy of his faith, and so free of doubt. It was a blessing just to talk to him, and the quick prayer we said together was somehow particularly moving. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the day, a few feet away from a taxi queue seething with impatience. It was a beautiful, quiet, serene moment and I'm grateful this man crossed my path.

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. 

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.

The nice guy in the bookstore

Today was a day of running errands, most of them exceedingly tedious and all of them crowded into the space between rush hour and where lunch would have been, had I not been running around like a headless chicken.

By the time I entered the last shop I needed, I was ready to drop. And if what happened next is anything to go by, I suppose it showed. I was in one of a chain of bookstores, hereinafter "W". The guy at the till was friendly and chatty, and we had quite a long conversation about one of the books I was buying, which happened to be a staff pick he had recommended. Anyway, while I was punching in my PIN, he suddenly said, "I don't mean this in a bad way, but you look really tired. I have a break coming up - would you like a cup of tea?"

I said yes, and the nice man made us each a cup of tea, then we sat between the stacks at the back of the store, sipping Earl Grey and talking about books. Fifteen minutes later, we said goodbye and that was that. The nice guy had no motive; he was just being nice. He made my day, that man, by offering a cup of tea to a stranger just because.

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.