Think About It

I have just got back from a couple of days at a conference. The conference was called Think. This is partly of course, because it really stretches your mind, gets the ol' grey matter working. But thankfully for me, I like to think it is called Think, because someone else has done a lot of the thinking for me. Hurrah! A dear friend of mine runs the conference, and despite him calling me names from the stage, (a sign of endearment on his part) he did and usually does do, a splendid job of communicating. 

He is one of those people who provokes you to use the word spendid in a blog post, because you want to better your language skills around him. He is one of those people who can communicate some mind-baffling Biblical concepts in a way that doesn't make you feel stupid, (even if you have to look up some of the words he is using*). And boy does he use a lot of words, which I know is rich coming from me! He is one of those people who can engage the cleverest mind in the room, as well as those people who use the word cleverest in a sentence. He is one of those people who does all the thinking, in order to get you thinking, about what God was thinking. Ultimately he takes you from thinking about Jesus, to being full of awe of our Lord and Saviour.

It is always wonderful when you see someone in their lane, doing the thing that God created them to do. And do you know what I kept thinking about at the Think conference? His mum. I met her, she's lovely. There must have been a period of time where this man as a young boy, would have listened to his mum read the Bible to him, explain the gospel to him, teach the meaning of Righteousness to him, explore the Scriptures with him, model forgiveness to him, sing cheesy christian songs with him. I'm not sure if her repertoire included building Jericho out of wafer biscuits, like mine does, but I bet she got him to dwell on higher things. I bet she got him to think.

A mother running in her lane, doing the thing that God created her to do, is a most splendid thing indeed. To communicate Biblical concepts to a child, to let them know that God knows their name, that He created them, He loves them, He sent His son to die for them, He forgives them, He has plans for them, He thinks about them, is no small thing. Do we always feel like it, no. Do we feel qualified, no. Do we have the energy, no. Do they ask unanswerable questions, yes. Are we riddled with guilt when we don't, yes. 

But do we want them to think about greater things, which lead them to being filled with awe? Yes, we most definately want that for them. 

Jesus' own mum had quite the response to being told what was in her lane, the task set before her. "I am the Lord's servant" she worshipfully said. There are aspects of mumming which we may not have seen coming when we first thought about it. In hindsight, we can but wonder what it was even like, to be the Saviour of the world's mum. Likewise, I am quite certain that my clever friend's mum raised her eyes Heavenward at times and said, 'really, this one'. But with God's help and grace, we do our bit. We say 'Yes Lord, I will be your servant, I will teach this little one about you. I will get them to think about it, and I will trust the rest of it to you'.

*Polyvalent - (adj); having multiple meanings, functions, or forms; capable of being interpreted or applied in various ways, depending on content.

**Kipper - as in Yom Kippur, the day of Atonment. Not Kipper the fish or Kipper the dog. (Some people ask silly questions at these events. Me - I am some people).

Shut Your Mouth

We have started another round of teaching a child to drive. We do some off road sessions to get the basics across the line. 'Yes you need to put the clutch down with your left foot whilst changing gear with your left hand, whilst steering with both hands, with your right foot on the accelerator, as the left foot comes up whilst checking your mirrors, in a very obvious way'.

Each time they look at us, blink a few times and ask us to explain it again. I wonder if this is a key moment when teenagers allow themselves to think their parents might actually know a thing or two. Not admit it out loud of course, but at least wonder if it could be true. With the basics understood, they then have a few lessons with a professional, and we aim to take them out on the road as much as possible so they can gain experience.They get helpful teaching when their dad is out with them, whereas when they're out with me, I simply enjoy the side by side time with them. (Helpful hint; at first they think a steering wheel turns a car the same way Mario or Luigi turn a Kart on a virutal track; one swift move rather than 'feeding the wheel through' and therefore the McDonald's drive through is not the one for those early days. That was a fun one to explain to the husband!) 

Before I go out in the car with them I give them a little pep talk. I have 30 years driving experience. I do know more than you. The fact that I know more than you will annoy you. You will panic at some point. You will stall multiple times. You will blame me. You will probably raise your voice at me. I will probably have to grab the wheel at least once. I will mostly stay quiet. If I raise my voice it will be to say 'stop the car'. I am not the enemy. I am for you. After the drive your adrenaline will be up. You will think you hate me but you actually don't. We will exit the car and we will still be mum and son. Naturally they suggest that this will not happen at all, until they find themselves shouting at me because I made them stall the car. 

I guess over the years I have learned a thing or two about dealing with teenage sons. I'm sure some of it is similar to raising teenage daughters, I just don't know that yet. I'm sure it will be a wonderful, possibly emotional, rollercoaster over the next few years as I find out. Watch this space. Send help! But so far with teenage boys, apart from making sure they are full of carbs, my number one tip would be to keep my mouth firmly closed.

My mother in law helpfully told me once that us mums are to be like rubbish bins. We are to be available for our kids to offload all their rubbish, get rid of all their yuck out of them and onto us. All that rubbish inside isn't healthy for them.They need to safely off-load onto us, but to note, not 'into' us. We mustn't take it personally. Oh but we so often do. Their words, their tone, just their lack even can wound us mums in ways they might never understand until they have children of their own. It's imperative that we don't hold onto all that yucky stuff. All that rubbish inside isn't healthy for us either. We have to offload it to our Heavenly Father. He can take it. The Psalms model perfectly to us, that we can rant and off-load and question and accuse. The Father models perfectly to us how to listen with grace and kindness, patience and love. 

It was (and is) a slow lesson for me to learn, not taking their off-loads personally. Realising maybe they feel safe enough to pour it all out in our direction. Maybe it's even a little test to see if we will still be there, still love them, still accept them, still be kind to them, still show them grace. The better moments for me seem to have been when I have managed to 'bite my tongue', or to keep it simple, shut my mouth. When I have swallowed hard, not responded, let them rant. When I have just been the bin-man as it were. Sure, I may well have gone into my room to cry or ranted a 'how dare they' at a friend or at their dad but if it's not been at them, then that for me has been a win! Maybe the situation will be brought up at another time. Maybe it will be spoken into. Maybe it will just be left. There have been moments when my mouth has failed me, failed to phyically close and instead 16yr old me has come out to take them on, meet them at their level with pointing fingers and voices raised. Not my best moments at all, but always humbling to be able to ask for their fogiveness. And if they have seen it modelled, felt the effects of it, they start to show us some undeserved grace too. 

"Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark." James 3v5

I might throw in an extra verse, because parenting teenagers needs all the truth and help you can throw at it. 

"Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires". James 1v19-20

Fly Away

A few weeks ago, another toothbrush left the pot. 

You would think this would take the pot down to six toothbrushes, but for some reason there has always been more toothbrushes in that pot, than people living in this house. Sometimes it is double the number. It baffles the husband every time he makes them point out which toothbrush is theirs in order to throw the excess ones away. It doesn't change anything. It goes into the mysteries of family life, like odd socks and tupperware lids.

So a toothbrush has gone, as have the Star Wars and Film Lego sets. The record player has gone, as have the guitars. Stitch has gone as have the unique T-shirts. The room is empty, much to the siblings' intrigue as they prepare their motivational speeches about having their own rooms. I watched him pack it all away. Well, I watched him pack away the bits he wanted, the rest he left in a pile or two (or three) for me to sort through. He carefully packaged all the bits that needed to be safely re-homed in our loft, and all the bits that needed to go with him to his new home. 

He actually accidently left home without realising it, and without telling us. It just sort of happened. He thought he was just decorating the new place but ended up staying there. He then called me to say that he may have accidently left home. We landed the call with a plan for him to come home for family dinner so that we could all get a chance to say what we love about him, and say a goodbye of sorts. The husband packed all of his things and some of my memories into the car and drove him off to his new adventure. I went and stood in his room. I closed my eyes. I breathed in the quietness and had a good cry. I needed to feel the empty space, grieve the empty space. It visually and audibly helped me resonate with what was going on in my heart. 

I read somewhere last week that for the most part, we know our children as adults longer than we know them as children. It made sense but it stopped me in my tracks. Of course they are always our children but you don't really even comtemplate that thought when you're smack bang in the middle of the messy years. You're too caught up in the giggles, the chatter, the colour, the chaos, the loose teeth, the open doors, the running, the plastc tat, the early mornings, the car seats, the knee scrapes, the trips to the park, the pack mentality, the tree climbing, the head bandages, the Cheerios, the wet wipes, the noise, the breakages, the muddy trainers, the imaginative play, the same old adventures. Then they're teenagers and maybe their doors are a little more closed. The noise and the chaos come in bursts when they feel safe, happy or mad. Less trees get climbed and their trainers stay clean. The colours tone down. They become individuals. Early mornings get later and later. The chats become less but so treasured. And then their bags get packed, boxes get filled, the space empties and they're off for some new adventures. 

It's both wonderful and awful all rolled into one. You spend your life as a mum, being there for them. You're there when they need you, nurturing them, shaping them, chanllenging and encouraging them, making sure they've got everything they need in order to grow into people who don't need your shaping and nurturing so much. You have to go through the painful bit where they don't think they need you but they desperately do, through to the bit where they actually don't need you quite so much and you need them more than you realise. 

I did a Valentine's activity for the ones still at home and realised there were of course names missing. (One was a bit poorly and didn't fancy chocolate and two have moved out). The mum guilt was there, as it tries to be in all seasons of a mother's life! It was like I had forgotten them, which I hadn't but this verse actually stood as a great encouragement to me.

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands..."Isaiah 49v15-16

These kids I have been blessed with are not mine to keep, but arrows to be sent out into the world. I can trust that God not only has His eye on them. He's got their names on the palms of His hands. They are His. He knows them. He created them for adventures. He created me for this adventure too.

Off-Peak

So yesterday I took the plunge and joined a gym. Eeek! I'm not really a gym type person. I tend to convince myself that there are so many workouts on-line, I could just do them whenever I want to, which is pretty much never. (Although I would recommend a 20min Beyonce Dance off with your daughters, for the giggles, the moves and the fitness.) There was a deal on, it's near my place of work, it can fit it in with my week, so I went for it. I was fairly relieved when yesterday turned out to be just a tour and the payment schedule. I didn't dare tell them I had a scraped together gym kit in the back pack I was wearing. I went for the off-peak option because it was a) cheaper and b) the gym's 'peak hours' are also home's 'peak hours' so I wouldn't be able to get there then. Besides, being at home between 4pm and 8pm is a different kind of workout. (I think it's called exercising the fruits of the Spirit). 

This morning I had my Induction at 8am. A little bit of me-time at 8am. Of course, first I needed to make sure I could leave the house well. I took the toothbrushes out of the bathroom in order to eliminate the "I'm in the shower" shout to the siblings knocking on the door to use the toothbrushes. I woke one of them up for his first wake up on my way downstairs with the toothbrushes. I took the sandwiches out of the fridge. Like Martha Stewart or some other organised mum guru, I had made the sandwiches the night before whilst watching an episode of Police Interceptors. I had to pre-empt the night-owl teenager that the sandwiches in the fridge are not for him as a late night snack. (Side note: apparently sandwiches are not working for one of them so we're trialing wraps). I leave the sandwiches and wraps out in age order. It's just easier that way. 

I put the kettle on for a hot water bottle for the one who is too sick for school. I got the uniform out of the dryer for the one that needed it washed last night. I leave out Ibuprofen for his sore back. Yes he could go looking for it all, but at 6:45am that's a lot to ask from a teen. I put the cereal on the table and pack the littlest one's lunch. I'm making her go to a buddy's house early so I can go to a stupid gym induction so she wont quite be fully conscious enough to pack her own lunch. I take up the hot water bottle, a snack, a note, fresh water and Calpol for the poorly one and leave it within reach for when she wakes up. (She was prepped the night before that I'd be gone for an hour. She possibly wont even wake until I am back). I do a second wake up of the one who needs waking, and a third with a reminder to get his football gear ready. He can't find his black jeans. I'm pretty sure black jeans are not in the uniform policy but that is his battle with the teachers, not mine. I find his black jeans. And his belt. 

I do the first and second wake up of the littlest who can't believe it's not the middle of the night. It was a whole 15minutes earlier than normal because I had a gym induction to get to. I help her to get dressed. She is of course old enough to get dressed by herself but this morning, mummy is going to help because mummy has some me-time booked in. Thankfully she has plaits in which will last her another non hair-brushing day. I sign her reading record, while getting her sleepy self to choose which cereal she wants. (I assume she has indeed read Tom Gates' Dog Zombies Rule but the teachers can pick that up). I put a washing load on because any sane mother knows that missing one day of laundry creates 7 extra days of laundry. One of them has asked for an early drop off down the road so he can get the bus to work. One of them is poorly in bed. One of them I walk across the road to her buddy's house. One of them I hope gets the bus to school and one I'm not sure what his plans are but I have left a hopeful note about the washing being put away. 

And then I'm off to the gym, off to get a little me-time. I catch a breath-taking sunrise across the sea, and I have a little chat to God. I am reminded of Psalm 113, "From the Rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised". I thank God that there is much to praise His name for. For the abundant household I have just come from, for the gym I don't particularly want to go to, for the joy of the sunrise behind me. 

I read in the gospel of Mark later that day, that after the sunset people had brought all the sick to Jesus to be healed. 'The whole town gathered at the door'. Early the next morning, while it was dark Jesus had left the house and gone to a solitary place to pray. Simon had gone looking for him. He needed Him back because 'everyone was looking for Him'. I am not comparing my ministry at home with Jesus ministry to everyone in Galilee, but I did smile knowing that Jesus sees me and understands me. He knows what the demand is like to a whole other level, and yet He is still always availe to me. There are no off-peak hours with Jesus. Another reason to praise Him before the sun goes down.

Snow and Tell

Yesterday, beloved Brighton came to a standstill due to heavy snowfall. When I say heavy, I mean heavy for this tiny part of Sussex. The snow actually settled for once, rather than just a colder than usual, wetter than usual slushy drizzle. And of course, chaos ensued. The snow arrived on the school run, the perfect time of the day for a little extra madness. Parents couldn't get to school, kids couldn't get home from school and some teachers had to stay at other local teachers' houses for the night, because they couldn't make the trecherous drive home. Certain roads became gridlocked with some people abandoning their cars, whilst others skidded along hoping their non winter tyres would get them up the hill, only to find abandoned buses, police cars and ice everywhere. 

I witnessed the heroic ventures of one man who had borrowed another man's boots and jogged for 40minutes to collect his wife and son who had wisely decided to stop their car rather than attempt the rest of the journey home. He wrapped the boy up and put him in a carrier and walked him and his wife safely home, spotting multiple snowmen along the way. One of my children managed to get the early bus home, so she was safe and dry. Her brother however had left a little later, so he sat on a non moving bus for an hour and was a little put out when I couldn't drive to pick him up as my car had been iced in by this point. He had a cold walk home.

One person however was delighted with yesterday's antics! My youngest always asks Alexa in the morning what degree it will be today. She then decides her wardrobe based on the answer. Alexa told her it would be Zero degrees. Rather intrigingually she then asked if there would be snow. Alexa said there would be later in the afternoon. Rather delighted with that answer, she came and told me that snow was expected. She then said how sad it was because the snow never settles. It gets washed away and it's never deep enough to actually play in. 

Well role on the school run! She didn't want to get a lift home in the car. She wanted to run in the snow, giggling with her best buddy. Ah the life of a nine year old. When she got home, we put on extra jumpers, found some snow gliders that I had picked up from the side of the road in the Summer and we headed back out. Oh what fun we had... snow gliding, snowball throwing, yellow snow avoiding, trecking up the Racehill, learning to roll rather than crash into the metal gate (after crashing into the metal gate) and of course building a snowman. 

It was a memory making day and we both loved it. After the post-snow meltdown, (all the tears because you can't feel your fingers or your toes and all your clothes are wet and freezing and clinging to you) she had a hot chocolate and snuggled into her fluffy Onesie. 

I took a moment to remind her about the morning. How she was sad because the snow wouldn't settle or be deep enough to play in. I told her she must be God's favourite! She looked up at me with questioning eyes. I explained that God didn't actually have favourites, just like parents shouldn't (although you might find one easier than another). But He is a good Father and He does know what we need and what brings us joy and she is a child of God. I said that I don't do everything the same for each of my children, but I know what blesses each one of them. I suggested that perhaps the snow was just for her, perhaps it wasn't at all but either way we should be thankful to Him for the fun we had had in the snow because not everyone's account of yesterday's snowday would have been as much of a blessing as it was to her, as it was to us. 

"As the snow... comes down from Heaven...watering the Earth making it bud and flourish...so is my word that...will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it". Isaiah 55v10-11

Like Father, Like Son

Happy New Year!

So 2025, what do you have in store for us?! If only we knew ahead of time, so we could put aside the right amount of energy, people-ing, crisis management, health, happiness, rest, antibiotics and money to see us nicely through each season that comes our way. Alas, this is yet to be invented or discovered. Perhaps I'll look into that for next year...

I feel I may have peaked too soon this year, just one day in. I went on a New Year's Day walk with some friends. Friends who I usually just admire from afar. Two of them run a gym, one of them goes swimming in the sea (in his Budgy Smuggglers) and one of them who just happened to swim the Channel. This didn't bode well as a starting point, plus there was a weather warning, plus we went for a walk in the windiest part of Brighton, possibly the UK. 

The first bit was lovely, little catch up with people about their Christmases. Kids happy to see their friends and run ahead, a little slip on the mud here and there but mostly a joyous outing. Then we were covered by the trees so conversation was able to continue, kids were happy. It felt healthy to be out in nature, a little smug even. Then we turned the corner and had to face Mordor, the land of Shadow, with its harsh geography and representation of all that is desolate and dark in the world. I tried to walk behind people in order to lessen the sheets of wind and ice attacking my face. I tried to make it look like I wanted my own space, a bit of alone time with my own thoughts, some meditation amidst nature. Truth was I couldn't breathe, let alone think about nature or even talk to people. One of my daughters said her face and legs hurt, her hands were cold, her legs were slipping. I left her to her own devices. She should have made better life choices. Each to their own. Survival of the fitest. (She was in her dad's care). 

There was a moment when I told the husband I physically couldn't do it. He didn't have much hope to offer me, because he knew I couldn't turn back. So he helpfully said, "It's just up that bit and then across that bit" pointing up towards Mordor itself. Yeah thanks for that! I was joined by my friend's ten year old daughter. She told me how hard this part of the walk was. I didn't believe she was finding it hard at all. She had told me earlier that she once run up it with her brother, pushing a feeding trough. I think she simply had compassion for me. She tried to distract me too at one point. I said she could walk ahead but she put her hand on my back and told me I could do it. She said this a few times as she walked alongside me. 

I knew she was modelling what her parents had taught her. Yes she's got an adventurous spirit and she is used to seeing her parents physically push themselves, but she modelled compassion to me, she encouraged perseverance in me and she walked alongside me at my own pace, not ahead of me,  just alongside. Attributes her parents are known for.

I thought back to Christmas morning when the biggest brothers in our household were very thoughtful with their sibling gifts. They loved big. I know some of that is what I have modelled to them. I do try to love big where I can. I thought back to this summer at Newday (a Christian Youth event). I had had a chat with a dad who had watched his two grown daughters loving their youth group by praying with them individually. He humbly knew this had come from his example. And I had had a chat with a mum whose teenager was happy to miss out because she was sorting through response cards from young people who wanted to follow Jesus. Again, a humble acknowledgement of all that that mum had taught her was important in life.

Interesting, encouraging, (sometimes daunting from a parents point of view)
what we learn from our parents or parental figures in our life. Spending time with them, watching them in action. Choosing what to emulate, what to pass on. 

Some of us will head into this new year with exciting goals and fresh expectations. Some of us will just be hoping that this year is easier than other years may have been. Some of us are not even sure what day of the week it is. Hopefully many of us will head into 2025 trusting that our Heavenly Father has got us. He knows what we need and He will be with us every step of the way, every day of the new diary. His Grace is sufficient for what lies ahead. He has strength for us, joy for us, peace for us, favour for us, blessings for us. He will also have comfort for us, rest for us and help for us when crisis comes our way, when we need another round of antibiotics, when we've run out of energy or money. As His children, He wants us to know Him, to spend time with Him, to enjoy His presence and to not only love His character but to model His character to others.  

"Follow God's example, therefore, as His dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering to God". Ephesians 5v1-2

'Tis the Season

A friend of mine encouraged me to take a moment during this busy Christmas season. To sit for twenty minutes. To sit with all lights off apart from the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. To have a coffee in my hand. To just sit and be still. To sit at the feet of Jesus. To remember that Jesus is seated at the right hand of the father because He is of equal position to the Father and because His work of redeeming me is done. To dwell on the seated Jesus, who right now is interceding for me. He sees me. He knows me. He's praying for me.

She then left me a short voice message of prayer, acknowledging the craziness of the outside world which has came into my home. She spoke the truth of the gospel. She reminded me that Jesus is the wonderful counsellor, the wounded healer, the prince of peace. She said that my family sits in His family tree which is bigger and stronger than me, than my worries, than my concerns, than my fears and failings. She said that I am carried under the refuge of His wings. In Him, I am safe. She said that Jesus identifies with messy family life. She prayed I would be still and know Him today. What a gift of a friend. (Not to self; Be more like Jesus and more like this friend).

So this morning that's what I did. I confess I had tea instead of coffee. It was 6:30am which is cuppa time, cup-of-tea time, not coffee-shop coffee time. Very different things. My twinkling Christmas tree was probably not the most peaceful of trees and I think I actually managed 12 minutes. But I sat. I thought about the mums with little ones, who would love a quiet house as late in the morning as 6:30am. I remember it well. I am grateful for seasons that do change. I thought about the encouragement of Susanna Wesley, pastor's wife and mother of many who put her apron over her head when she just needed a moment to dwell in God's presence. I just sat. I didn't read or sing. I didn't pray even. I was just still, mindful of all the truths that my friend had just prayed over me. And it did me good. It was good for my soul. It was probably good for my household too.

Somewhere in the midst of presents and chocolate and mangers and family and mince pies and school shows and movies and church and candy canes and Lemsip and teacher gifts and ice skating and friends and cards and experiences and shopping lists and placemats and gift lists and turkeys and freezer space and cookies and tinsel and stocking fillers and cranberries and extra chairs and driving around and the weight of it all and the stupid elf, there is Jesus. He is right there in the midst of it all. It does us good to be still, to be quiet and simply know, understand, comprehend, grasp, recognise, that He is indeed God. He is good. He is able. He is Sovereign. He is not just to be acknowledged but He is also to be exalted. It's good to take a moment (maybe more than just one) and sit at the feet of Jesus. And maybe just maybe, another mum could do with being reminded about this too. 

"His name shall be Immanuel; which means God with us." Matthew 1v23