Because You're Worth It

Mother's Day is a funny ol' day... Love the handmade cards and nice words, and the forced kisses from teenagers. I'm always going to appreciate new earrings, or a necklace. This year, my son bought me a fish! He told me he wanted to get me a fish, so we had 1:1 time together, popped to the garden centre and he chose a fish for me. (1:1 in itself is a lovely thing, which I should probably aim to do more of. It's nice to spend time with one of the six. You get a chance to see them for who they are, not as a brother or a sister, but just as your son or daughter. Note to self; diary in intentional 1:1 time). 

I had bought a leg of lamb, and apple strudel because I just knew that's what I wanted to eat. I set my alarm for 2am so I could put it in the slow cooker; rather pleased with myself, was I. A friend came for lunch and asked what else I needed, I simply told him wine and chocolate. I was quite sure what I wanted today! I wonder with motherhood, if you get so used to just putting other people's needs, wants and desires before your own, that you forget to have any actual needs, wants and desires of your own...

Proverbs 31 is an interesting chapter of the Bible isn't it?! (Check out my adapted version here.) Maybe we think of reading through this chapter on Mother's Day, and seeing if we measure up to her. Actually I'm not sure many women would do that, (but there is a lot of good in reading it). What us mothers might do however, or women in general, and maybe even men...is to compare ourselves with another. Am I doing a better job than her? Is she doing a better job than me? Are her kids happier than mine? Does she enjoy motherhood more than me? And that is generally an unhelpful mindset; whether we think we're the one bossing it in comparison, or whether we think we're failing in comparison. 

The verses I'm drawn to today, are the ones where she looks after herself. There's plenty about her looking after her household; her husband and her family. Then there's the verses about her looking after her community, and the poor. All wonderful things, and true of a mother; catering for all those needs. But verse 25 says;

"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come."

'Clothed' says to me, that she wears it, she puts it on. She wears strength and dignity. She puts strength and dignity on. She doesn't muster it up. She steps into it. I want to stop and dwell on what that looks like for me. What brings me strength and dignity in who I am? What strengthens me? What helps my self-esteem, my self-respect? What brings honour specifically to me, to who God made me to be? I think there are things which are universal, like standing in the truth of God's word, what He thinks about me. But there are also things which bring us strength, things which are unique just to us. 

This Mother's Day, I'd like to encourage us mums to think about our own needs, wants and desires. I don't mean to the detriment of caring for our children. In fact, the opposite. We will ultimately serve our children better, if we've looked after ourselves. Do we need to diary in some 'me time'? Do we need a hair cut? Do we need a walk in the fresh air? Do we need to start a class of some kind? Do we need to find a creative outlet? Do we need a coffee out, which doesn't go cold? Do we need some time with friends? Do we need someone to encourage us? Do we need some help with the house? Do we need an early night? Or all of the above?!

And that wonderful next bit; she laughs at the days to come. How secure she is in the future, even the unknown, or the upcoming hard bits... Because she knows where her identity comes from. She knows she is loved by her father in Heaven. She is secure in Him. He's got her. He's for her. He adores her. He cherishes her. She not only knows it, she lives in it.

A Cup of Milk

Bedtimes can just be so full on!!

For the mum, it's like the finishing line; the thing they've been working towards all day. The epic finale to the show with it's various characters; people exiting and entering the main stage, with costume changes and intervals, and a script which seems so familiar, with huge amounts of comedic ad-libbing, forgotten lines and sheer dramatic performances. 

As the little people are ushered up to their beds, the mum starts to see the curtain tassles untie for the final close. She hopefully expects to hear rapturous applause, maybe flowers thrown on the stage; an appreciation of the performance she has given today. She was after all, the stage manager, the understudy, the main character, the background chorus, the prop handler, the care-taker all in one. She gave a great performance today, her children will probably call her blessed as they thank her for her parenting, laying their heads upon their pillow....

For the child however, this is the encore. They've got a whole other scene prepared. They're ready to bring out the fire eating act, and delve into the character of Verruca Salt. They have no idea you were even part of the show. This is their moment, and they're going to give it all they've got.

These two approaches to the final curtain call, can really cause some instability to the whole performance. I personally get all jittery, winding down to 'me time'. I don't want the kids to steal my time. And they love me sooooo much, that they want to squeeze out every last minute of time with me, which is nice!! It's funny because we don't do fair in this house, but it's just so unfair when they still have pillow demands of me....a cup of milk, the Bible, a kiss, a wee, a cup of milk, a philosophical question, a funny story, a lost dog, a cup of milk, something that happened at school, a cup of milk, a missing Lego man, a few tears, some water, a reenactment of a fairy tale, a stolen pillow, a form to be signed, etc.

Tonight, just getting the first two down was an emotional roller coaster, and I was spent. I had nothing else to give. My littlest asked for the Bible, while she drank her cup of milk. I took a deep breath, or was it a sigh, and I read the next story in her Bible; a story that she probably didn't understand, but it hit home to me. The story was about a man called Elijah who met a very poor widow. She only had enough flour and oil to make one loaf of bread, and then her and her son would die. Always a nice cheery story to read a two year old before she sleeps, but I read it in a cheery Mr Tumble voice, and skipped the death bit. Elijah asked the widow to make him a loaf of bread first, and then make her own bread, and God would see to it that her flour and oil didn't run out.

I was so stirred, that at this widow's hungriest and emptiest moment, she gave to someone else first. What a wonderful picture of motherhood; giving when we've nothing left to give, when we're spent, when we're done in. God provided for that widow in such a miraculous way; providing her with enough flour and oil, to ensure she didn't go hungry. He gives to me too. I'm probably not going to make my own bread anytime soon, although with oil and flour, and maybe a cup of milk, I could attempt some pancakes. But my Heavenly Father does give me grace, strength, energy, rest, and another tomorrow, to go again. He's never spent or done in. There was a moment when Jesus gave His life for me, when He gave His all in my place, when He lovingly went out of His way for me, so I never have to go without again. 

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,

 that whoever believes in him shall not perish 

but have eternal life". John 3v16

Just Do It

So my first post of the year; New Year, New You, saw me claiming the word "Intentional" as my own, for the whole year! And it's been rather interesting so far. For starters, you can pretty much do anything and just add the word intentional to it, and it makes you feel better haha. Love an easy win.

I've had quite a few people message me encouragement from my Instagram stories, saying they've appreciated how I see the word intentional. I think I used to see it as 'do more', or at least, 'just do it' (Whatever it actually is) 'be better', 'try harder', and ultimately 'try to be someone I'm not', which can be really demoralising, tiring, and not honouring to God. He made me to be be, not someone else. 

However, He does want me to be the best me I can be (in His strength, not my own).

I had a bit of a blow out with one of my boys. It was one who I don't have many blow outs with; our personalities don't clash, and his temperament  is pretty chilled. He over reacted, and then I over reacted, then he was very frustrated and I equally so, resulting in tears and huffs from us both. He went off to read, and I went off to the kitchen.
The kitchen; my weird haven. It was close to his bedtime so I knew I could just get him into bed, and then have some time to blog, and intentionally encourage a mum or two and just breathe a bit.

I wondered what 'being intentional with my parenting' meant in that moment, and I found myself seizing the moment. I sat next to him on the floor, said what I was sorry for, asked what he was sorry for. We hugged, we prayed, we forgave, and I asked him if there was a film we could watch together. He reminded me that it was his bedtime, which is his way of asking, 'are we watching the whole thing, or are you going to make me stop half way'? (Something he doesn't like too much). And I said the most important thing for me right now was to 'lean in and love him'. So we watched a half decent movie about Earthquakes. I didn't blog, or encourage a mum. But I intentionally loved my son, and it was just so worth it.

There was another moment this week, where the kitchen was an absolute state. It had got on top of me, as it does. I had made a meal for a new born mum and her family, and then was stressing at having to make my own kids a meal, and clear the table so we could all eat together as a family... I knew it would be through gritted teeth. So instead I set up a little camp for the girls, which means 'drape the curtain over the sofa, and give them pillows', and I didn't ask the boys to come away from 'Ultimate Ninja' or whatever they were watching, and I just made a heap load of sausages which they ate in front of their screens. I don't know whether this was intentional parenting, or intentional breathing space. But I know it served us all better than if I had stressed to do the other stuff.

I think the word 'intentional' for me, has relieved some of the Mummy Guilt. Ah man, that 'I'm not good enough' feeling mums seem to get the moment a child is handed to them. What is that? And where does it come from? Eating sausages in front of screens could easily be seen as a fail, a 'not good enough', a 'can't be bothered', with just a load of mum guilt thrown in, especially when family meal times are really important to us. But for some reason, making an intentional decision to do this for me, for my sanity, for my capacity, lessened all of that. And of course, the kids think it was the best so it was a win win.

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,

 knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. 

You are serving the Lord Christ. Colossians 3v23-25

The Kitchen

The Kitchen; My Weird Haven

The Kitchen is where I spend most of my time

The kitchen is where I feed my tribe

The kitchen is where I makes cups of tea

The kitchen is where I provide for their needs

The kitchen is where we try and listen to each other

The kitchen is actually where we talk over each other

The kitchen is where we eat our food

The kitchen is where I gauge their mood

The kitchen is where they want after-school snacks

The kitchen is where we get family-time back

The kitchen is where we shoot nerf guns 

The kitchen is where I escape their fun

The kitchen is where I run to my phone

The kitchen is where I can be alone

The kitchen is where I'm reminded I'm messy

The kitchen is where I take a break from the stressy

The kitchen is where I do not bake

The kitchen is where I whisper, 'For Goodness sake'

The kitchen is where they come and tell

The kitchen is where I try not to yell

The kitchen is where I glance at the man

Thankful and bemused by this noisy clan

The kitchen is where they drop all the plates

The kitchen is where I start running late

The kitchen is where they do their chores

The kitchen is where they say they're bored

The kitchen is where I wash their clothes

The kitchen is where I butter the loaves

The kitchen is where tears are shed

The kitchen is where laughter is bred

The kitchen is where the dishes get clean

The kitchen is where they're not on their screens

The kitchen is where they tell me their day

The kitchen is where I try and pray

The kitchen is where my people sit,

to talk about life and marriage; all of it.

The Kitchen is where I do what I do

The kitchen, you're welcome, no matter who.

New Year, New You

So it's January again... I nearly managed to keep last year's Resolution, which was to keep my bank cards in my wallet. And the husband was right, (as he so often is on this subject), you do lose your cards less, if they're kept in a wallet, in a bag, rather than in a back pocket! Ha Who knew?!

I'm not really one for New Year's Resolutions, mainly because I just don't stick to stuff, and it feels really constrictive. But this year I have been unwillingly challenged in a few places, which is really not fair this early on in the diary...

A friend of mine shared a blog post about finishing the last year well, with the hope of starting the next one well too. You can read it here. I responded with 'eurgh I hate these things', like the mature godly woman that I am. I don't know what it is about those things that make me squirm; possibly the non completer/finisher in me, possibly it's being married to Mr systematic, (he would LOVE this blog post, and probably suggest that we read it together every week), possibly it's the fear of being boxed in, maybe it's laziness, I don't know. But for the first time, I felt compelled to not only read the blog post, but give it some actual thought and time, and even practically do what it says! 

This, alongside being challenged by a couple of friends of mine to follow Allie Casazza on Instagram. (Shes a de-cluttering guru, who encourages people to think of a word or phrase for the year ahead; something that will inspire you, spur you on, refocus you etc.) After joking about the words 'Shallow' and 'Prosecco', I completed the above blog post challenge, and I have come up with the word 'Intentional', which I kept forgetting at first. But now it's staying put for the year, and now I've told all of you, so there's no backing out of it.

I feel like God has spoken to me about my negative view of words/blog posts/conversations etc on structure, routine, disciplines, resetting, focus, goals even.... and He would actually like me to use some of these things to be more intentional with what He has called me to do. Challenge accepted! Mmm...not that easy is it, if it's just not your comfort zone. Happy to have 6 kids and live at a fast pace, and high capacity. Not so happy to add structure and a time table into my week, in case I cant be me anymore. I am however made in God's image, and He is all about the order, and the spontaneous all at once, so I'll take His lead. Always a good idea!

So in case you want to know, this year I aim to be more intentional in the following areas;

*Intentionally reading the Bible daily (for me and for the benefit of others).

*Be intentional with my time 'right now' and for the week ahead.

*Be intentional with my parenting and my marriage.

*Intentionally trying not to get frustrated with the kids.

*Be more intentional with a certain blog I write.

*Be an intentional encourager!

*Ask God to speak to/through me.

Let me know if God speaks to you, if you have a word for the year ahead, or ask me about my list...

"Now may the God of peace...

 equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever." Hebrews 13v20-21

TalkTalk

The other evening, I only had one child in the house with me. His two little sisters were in bed. One of his brothers was at a gig with his dad, one was at a youth group, and one was at a Youth Small group. So it was just me and him; a rare moment in this house, just two  people. That's just one conversation going on! 

I think one of the most intense things about having a big family, is the amount of conversations which can be going on at any given time. I'm sure there is some wonderful mathematical way of working it out, but I'll leave that to the people who enjoy stats.

From a mum point of view, its about one million! Some of them, talk without ceasing I'm sure. Now, I'm a chatter so I am partly to blame for the volume of words used...but the thing which takes a lot of patience with this parenting malarkey, is the third party.

You'll be having a conversation with one or two children, but then a third and even a fourth pipe up with something not so helpful, or funny, or just their opinion. Basically something distracting which takes away from the original conversation which you were in the middle of having. Then you have to repeat yourself to ensure you have been understood.

And if a 5th child enters in, it's anarchy. 

(Of course if you have a two/three year old then you're in the repetition stage, which is a whole load of conversation from one tiny human being; they ask a question, you give the answer, they repeat the question, you repeat the answer. They may throw in a 'why' at which point you know you're doomed, and you admit defeat with "just because..." But then something will trigger the 'ask, answer, repeat' scenario. For us currently, it's the traffic lights. When we stop at red, she asks about it, we explain, she asks again....until the next traffic light. Such fun to be had on Brighton seafront!)

The funniest/most stressful of the 'conversation interuption', is when I'm using a slightly raised voice, let's call it a stern voice, so less than shouty, but still with eyebrow involvement, and one of the others just interrupts with nothing relating to the original conversation at all, but now they have found themselves on the receiving end of the stern voice, when they had done nothing wrong. This is both confusing for mum, and said child, and it is a tricky thing to manage the transition from one tone to another with different children. You may have to apologise to the interrupting child, because they have been unfairly 'wrong toned'. Plus the original child, the one being told off, now thinks the conversation is over so they wander off and you have to start again... Aaarrggghhhhh!!

Anyway, that was a lot of words to describe a lot of words. Haha. So back to me and my boy... Now one of the bits of advice we've stolen/borrowed in regards to parenting, is to be available whenever possible and to get into their worlds. When there's multiple children in the house, I hear myself saying "yes in a minute", sometimes because I simply can't get round to all their needs in one go, and sometimes to fob them off, in the hope they forget. But this evening, there was just the one, so I decided to be available to him.

Well...he was on the PlayStation playing a Marvel game, and he sure tested my availability.  "Mum, come and look at what Hulk can do". "Mum, come and look at Captain America's shield". "Mum, look at this epic battle". "Mum, watch me drive this car". "Mum, come see how cool this is". "Mum, look at Iron man fly". "Mum, look what happens if I do this", "Mum, I got multiple coins, look". And with each one of these 'totally cool' observations, I got up and went into the lounge from the kitchen. We engaged in a few minutes conversation about the wonder that beheld him, until he was totally zoned in again, oblivious to my existence once more. Nineteen times I responded, fully engaged in the wonders of Marvel, in less than half an hour. It was amusing to say the least, but I know God spoke through it.

God is always available to me, always. Whenever I call on Him, He's there, available, interested, engaged with me. Sometimes I may not feel as though He is, but if His Bible is true, then He's there, regardless of my feelings. He's never busy dealing with someone else's need, unavailable to me. It's not a chore for Him to say "Yes daughter".

And He's actually interested. I was interested in what my son had to say, but I sure faked some of the excitement of blowing up a Lego villain. God is interested in me. He really likes what I've got to say. He doesn't think I talk too much. Sometimes I think I wont bother God with the little details of my life, but I need to learn to be more like my son was with me. I need to be much more chit-chatty with God. He's my Heavenly Father and He's interested in each conversation, each feeling, each thought, each concern, each fun thing, each exciting thing, each thing I've learned, each fear, each dream, each random bit about me. It's so valuable to have quality time with God, to study His word and take time to hear from Him, but I think there is a real gain to conversing freely with Him too.

Quite simply put...

"pray without ceasing" 1 Thessalonians 5v17

Load of Old Rubbish

No laptop means no blogging! I managed to post the last one on an old iPad. It's one of my favourite things, that old iPad. It doesn't really do much nowadays, hence the lack of blogging. It has it's own little flaws; It doesn't let you go back to see what you've already written. Maybe that's a good thing; I could just go for it, no regrets, but the grammar police would get me, and what if it's too funny, (if there is such a thing) or too serious (I doubt it), or too honest (nah honesty is good for the soul) or it just misses the point...

Anyway, editing isn't really possible, neither is photo transferring, and it is soooo slow.... But I love it. I love it because a dear friend of mine bought it for me, (one of those friends who doesn't have spare cash). She bought it for me when I said I was thinking of blogging, and she wanted to encourage my writing gift. How kind is that?! I also love it because of the valuable lesson it taught one of my boys when he smashed it. (Take a look at iBroke). And of course the valuable lesson it taught the husband. Thirdly, it is a glorified babysitter. It will show countless annoying episodes of Peppa Pig, and totally perfect episodes of Topsy & Tim, literally for as long as I tell it to. 

I guess it's easy to assume it's rubbish now, seeing as it doesn't do what it was maybe designed to do. It's probably monetarily worthless. There are much better models out there. But it's mine, and I'm fond of it...

My mother in law had a wonderful parenting revelation for me recently. I was explaining the attitude you can get back from the kids, along with the burdens and upsets they carry, and how hard that can be. (She parented the husband, so experienced a bit of backchat). He always has to remind me not to take it personally, which I totally do. 
And then she said, "Well of course, you're the dustbin. They're meant to unload all their rubbish into you, so they feel better, and then they don't have to carry it around themselves. You mustn't hold onto that rubbish either. It's not yours to keep".

Well...that revelation of course brought me to tears. It was just such a simple picture of what it can feel like to be a mum; the days when they're sad and you can't fix them, the days when they're mad and you can only try to understand them, the days when you're to blame, even when you're technically not to blame...whether it's a two year old's tantrum, or an older child's outburst, whether it's injustice to one, or heartache for another, this is all offloaded to you the parent, which of course can feel a bit rubbish. 

But like my mum in law wisely suggested, we mustn't keep hold of that rubbish. That wont do us any good whatsoever. We will simply go off! We'll rot. We'll just stink! We need to offload it ourselves. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light". Matthew 11v28-30

God the Father said these words to us, to encourage us to come to Him, to give our junk to Him, and receive His rest instead. My youngest daughter LOVES the bin lorry. Monday mornings rock her world, as she watches the man take our bin, attach it to his bright green truck and empty the contents into it. They have a weekly wave. It's a very joyous occasion. 

And this is how we should be, with our kids' rubbish, gladly offloading it to The One who can fix their sadness, The One who does understand why they're mad today, The One who took it all and put it on His son's shoulders when He died. Jesus who wasn't at all to blame, not even just a technicality, took it all so that we could live abundantly, so that our kids could live abundantly, even in the midst of their woes.

Sometimes I think I'm a bit rubbish, a bit worthless; there's much better models out there. But when I start thinking like that, I realise I've kept hold of some rubbish. I've started to go off and stink a bit. That's not how I'm designed to be. God is very fond of each one of us. I will look at the bin lorry itself with fondness this week. (Maybe not too fondly, in case I freak out the bin men). But it will be a reminder for me to not keep any rubbish, but to gladly see it carried off, never to be brought back.

Ten Out of Ten

This week me and the husband celebrated fifteen years of marriage. Well let's just say we reached fifteen years of marriage. We didn't exactly celebrate. This photo was taken with a Lemsip in hand for Him and in between frequent visits to the loo for me. We managed a smile, and a laugh. We didn't go in for a kiss. Marriage may be about sharing, but he didn't want what I had! We were in bed for 9pm, for nothing other than hoods up, bed socks on and asleep by 9:30pm. Living the dream. 

Last year, we celebrated in Rome! The husband often asks me what 'number out of ten' do I think our marriage is at, right now? It's a brave question. I mean, if I've cried that day and it was possibly his fault, or he was just vaguely to blame, then that number is going to be low. And if I've had a cup of tea in bed that morning, I might go way high. There's nothing to base my answer on apart from just how I feel in the moment. And he knows that about me. He then asks me, "what would get it to a ten?" This particular time, instead of the answer he may have been expecting like, "text me back in the day/change more nappies", I said "take me to European cities, without the kids". Short and simple. 

So that's what we have been doing, when we can arrange the military operation that is the babysitting of 6 kids. (Thank you to all who have taken part in this operation #grandparents #church #friends #schoolmums. You know I appreciate you). It's now in our budget planning, as is family holidaying.

The husband rarely changes what would make it a 10 for him, (when I'm brave enough to ask the question back). He wants more sex, more respect and more words of affirmation. Repeat.

The first time we went anywhere, was Barcelona, 5 years ago. Love that city, and sad for its recent pain. We realised once more, how wonderfully different God has made us to be. The husband is the 'let's do lots of things and see lots of things and go to lots of places, with a timed schedule' kind of person, and I'm more of the 'Mojito in one hand, on the beach, what's a schedule?' kind of person. Ah Barcelona, the first time I ever swore at my husband. In short, there had been a 'miscommunication' about a market, so I swore at him. Oh I was so angry. We were on hire bikes at the times, so after my first (of still a few) swears at the love of my life, I cycled off in a triumphant huff. Except that I was in a different city, and didn't know my way round, so I had to cycle just far enough in front, to make sure he was still close behind me.  

So Rome was last year. We hired segways and went on a tour of Rome to find out interesting things about the city, which one of us was really interested in. The husband of course, nailed it on his first try and I embarrassingly just went backwards with the tour guide telling me to thrust my hips forward. 

So our fourteenth year seemed more of a celebration than our fifteenth year. But that's what marriage is like; walking the ups and downs with each other, the highs and the lows, the tears and the joy. 

The longer we are married, the more different we realise we are. The husband is ever so focussed, methodical, tidy, good at time keeping, scheduled, ordered, you know the type who like the Tupperware lids to match the Tupperware boxes, with no spares required. And I'm more the 'so there isn't a lid which fits, let's use cling film, and wrap it in a carrier bag' type. I do not understand his ways, although I see the  benefits and he does not understand mine. And as we tell any couple we meet with, it's a different way of doing things not a wrong way. 

Also the longer we are married, the more we have a glimpse of what this 'mystery of marriage' is all about. In short, it's about living selflessly, giving to the other, loving unconditionally, putting them first, leaning into their preference, putting their needs above your own, whilst encouraging them, spurring them on, and forgiving quickly. It is of course an image of the gospel. Jesus came to Earth, to love and to serve, to rescue and to save, to deny Himself in order to put us first. Was it easy? Loving us definitely was, and is. But I don't think dying on a cross, and being separated from His father was easy. It was a sacrifice. It literally took blood, sweat and tears. He didn't just step out of His comfort zone, He stepped out of Heaven, humbled Himself, to put us first. 

And that is what marriage is meant to be a reflection of. Bit of a challenge if you ask me. I get a miffed when the husband doesn't put me first. I hear my kids say what I'm literally thinking, "muuuum he's not being selfless to me". My tantrums just come out a bit differently; a slightly slammed drawer (although ours have that annoying soft close effect), a stoney silence, a raised eyebrow, a huff, a shake of the head. Maybe for some, it's a shout, a swear or a walk out. We see our kids tantrums for what they are, but ignore our own because they're usually a bit more civilised than rolling on the floor screaming. (For some of us anyway).

I said earlier that marriage was about sharing. I don't actually believe that. Marriage isn't about give & take or being fair, or 50:50. It's actually about loving the other person with a gospel love. And that takes hard work, a lot of forgiving, and a daily reliance on God to help. Sometimes marriage requires other people to speak into it. We've had to meet with another couple before, when we're not able to see past hurt or bickering. It's humbling but well worth it for the strengthening of our marriage, and for the benefit of our kids, and ultimately strong marriages are a blessing to the church, and the community.

I can now see when the husband secretly wants to throttle me, but chooses love instead. And hopefully he can see when I'm putting him first, albeit through teeth. We haven't nailed or perfected marriage. Maybe ten out of ten happens after 60years or something, but we do enjoy marriage immensely, and laugh at each other a lot. So here's to the next fifteen... 

"This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband".

The Thing About Newday is....

The thing about Newday is that it is just such a different week; different to the norm, different to every day day life, different to what you expect or even plan for it to be.

The thing about Newday is that it makes you feel like you're living out Ground Hog Day. Didn't we just do all of this a year ago? 

The thing about Newday is that you reunite with your 'once a year' friends, and realise again how wonderful these people are, as they serve the next generation.

The thing about Newday is that you see people working in their gifting, and it's a fantastic thing to see. 

The thing about Newday is the epic cafes, even though the youth have been fed by fantastic church catering teams.

The thing about Newday is that you eat more carbs than you've ever solely eaten in one week, in a room which is louder than any room you've eaten in before.

The thing about Newday is the amazing cleaning team, who have to deal with all sorts of nasties, and they're always smiling!

The thing about Newday is the exhaustion you feel; maybe it's the camping, the carbs, the emotions, the hours, the people...maybe your lilo went down, or maybe it's the walking, or the toddler not napping, or the serving, maybe it's all of the above.

The thing about Newday is that someone is always doing a job, which you just couldn't do, or wouldn't want to do, or wouldn't know how to do.

The thing about Newday is the Health & Safety team saying yes to the fighting, trapezing dinosaurs and the kids covered in gunge. 

The thing about Newday is that you can doubt yourself or compare yourself; maybe they make it to more meetings than you, maybe they get to go to less, maybe they're up front and you'd like that, or maybe they are never seen, and perhaps that is the dream.

The thing about Newday is that you can't quite see how putting your excited, 'out of routine', feral child back into a caravan bed for three hours is really adding anything to the event.

The thing about Newday is that more than three times a day, you do not know where said feral child is, but usually someone else does.

The thing about Newday is the amazing clouds which seem more intense in Norfolk, and the rainbows of promise.

The thing about Newday is the diversity; whether it be through rap or through strings, through pancakes or jerk chicken, through inner city London or the beaches of cornwall.

The thing about Newday is when your youth come and visit, and you act all breezy when you're just so pleased to see them, and to hear that one of them has even showered.

The thing about Newday is you hit a wall, you throw your hands up, and slump down on a flat lilo or a grassy cushion and you have a bit of a cry.

The thing about Newday is the kids work full of friendly faces, welcoming the sad or happy little ones.

The thing about Newday is the copious amounts of sugar which can be consumed. Every day is sweetie day.

The thing about Newday is the neighbours; you just have to put up with them! And the poo stories, and the laughter.

The thing about Newday is the damp, smelly clothes which live in the corner of a tent, growing their own vegetation.

The thing about Newday is that there are young people everywhere, and they stay up really late, whereas babies and children wake up really early. It's a fun combination!

The thing about Newday is that some people are in a seminar learning stuff, or in a prayer meeting hearing from God, and you're walking around a campsite pushing a buggy, feeding the occupant some snacks.

The thing about Newday is dancing outrageously in worship, or standing quietly still while everyone else dances to the beat.

The thing about Newday is catching the wow moments; your child falls asleep on the floor of the big top, and you hear the preach, or the testimonies. Or maybe your child is awake, and clearly meeting with God, or a friend prays for you, or just understands where you're at.

The thing about Newday is when an eleven year old boy, gives his heart to Jesus, and so does the next and the next and the next, until one hundred and fourteen young teens suddenly realise what Jesus has done for them, and make a stand to follow Him. 

The thing about Newday is watching the team your husband works so closely with, (for this crazy week), bawl their eyes out because of this. Because this is what they are here for.

The thing about Newday is hearing the 308 who have found God's love and forgiveness for the first time, and more who have been reminded, and have found His love for the second time, or even third, or fourth...

The thing about Newday is hearing the hundreds of young people who have been healed from physical and mental illnesses, and those that have been set free from other things which have bound their young lives for too long.

The thing about Newday is the perspective, the bigger picture. It's the putting aside of the hard bits, and seeing why this event is put on, why it's important to equip the next generation to live a life which glorifies God, confident in Him always having their back.

The thing about Newday is watching young people experience forgiveness and be inspired to make a difference, to take the gospel of Christ to others and to live the adventure He wants for them.

The thing about Newday is that it is worth it. It's just so worth it. 

"For the Lord is good, and His love endures forever;his faithfulness continues through all generations". Psalm 100v5

Panning for Gold

Some of the things I encourage my kids about, seem pretty small, almost insignificant. At the moment, we're on our final potty training season. It seems to be going a little easier this time round. Maybe when you have six kids, the last one just kind of gets the memo, and self trains.

The little dimpled pink one, takes herself to the potty, does a wee, Facetimes someone to tell them her achievement and the best bit, she doesn't even ask for her sweetie; her positive reinforcement, her bribe. At least one of the others worked out how to do his wee in stages so that he would get multiple mini marshmallows... but not this one. She does her business, and we all do the 'wee wee dance', and then she's happy. She hasn't nailed number twos yet, so they are found in the swimming costume or the knick-knicks. We've yet to have a trouser leg incident, or as one of mine did, the 'Bob the Builder incident', where we found them substituting one thing for another, and using their trucks to scoop up the 'mud'...

Anyway, I digress. It's so important to praise the little things, just as it is to recognise the huge things that they do. Sometimes I find myself saying, "well done", and clapping, when they eat one spoonful of dinner without whining. Sometimes in a slightly more sarcastic tone, it's a well done for finding a shoe, sometimes it's something they're explaining to me, and I have no real understanding of what it is that they're saying, but they're really pleased with themselves, so I go along with the excitement. 
Sometimes I hear the husband 'fake wowing' to a child's piece of junk modelling, usually followed by, "how long have we got to keep this?" (The husband does however refuse to 'let them win' at races with him, or bundles, because when they actually do nail him for the first time, he wants them to really know it was a win. And enjoy it. Many years of annoyance and tears for this one point he wants to make).

I especially encourage anything I see which feels gospel-based, or Jesus-like. When one of them is selfless to their sibling, without coercion, prodding, teaching or nudging, it's just the best. When one of them is kind, or empathises with a hurt sibling, oh it's such a beautiful thing. When they stand up for someone at school, or stand up for a belief that we have as a family, when they tell the truth, oh it's so precious. These little gems feel quite rare; there is a lot of digging and sieving to pan for the gold, but when you find it, it's priceless. The gold makes all the digging worthwhile. The constant training of kids in the way they should go, is worth it. Sometimes the husband or a friend has to point these gems out to me, when I feel like I'm just digging with little or no reward. And these moments encourage me, they make me feel like I'm doing an okay job raising my kids. 

Jesus spent His time on Earth spotting the gems in sinners' lives. When the religious leaders who pretended to be perfect, saw fault, especially in the women of the day, Jesus saw their hearts instead. I'm encouraged by this, because I know Jesus sees my heart and finds the gems in my own life, when I'm not sure how I'm doing. He sees a gem and shines it, and says "well done". Sometimes as mums, we just get so tired, that our head stays in the sand and we forget that God is panning for gold in us. He uses all kinds of things, including our kids to bring these nuggets of gold to the surface. He is our Heavenly Father who loves us and is proud of us. 


"The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16v7

#nitgate

Sometimes verses in the Bible hold a stronger image for me, than at other times. For example, when I was in Rwanda, the verses about farming and seed planting seemed to make more of an impact than when I was back home in England. "He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully", this meant more to me when I saw the farmers sowing seeds and talking us through how best to cultivate a good crop, than when I just walk around Asda with no real idea as to the work which goes into sowing and reaping. I wouldn't even know which season is best for what, because Asda is 24hours a day, seven days a week...

And when I'm at a wedding where the wine is flowing, it's always fun to remember that Jesus' first miracle, was turning water into the best wine ever tasted, not the two for £6 at Mulberry's.

At this very moment, the verse which keeps running over in my head is, "...there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother". Proverbs 18v24 

And for what wonderful godly reason, is this image sticking with me? Because I'm in the Head lice cycle. And those little suckers are sticking around for longer than I care to mention. Three of my kids' hair is beautifully soft, because we are in the 'conditioner - comb out' stage. They also smell of Tea Tree oil, not so good, because then everyone knows what you're currently dealing with. Well, every mum knows. The kids are about to smell of Vosene, which is an even worse smell, but it's the next recommendation I'm going with. Two of my kids never get them, and one pretends he has them because he loves physical touch and the thought of me stroking his hair is a delight to him.

When I just had boys, I'm sure this whole thing consisted of hair shaving or at least a good old trim. But now I have little females in my life, with thick luscious hair. And I have to comb the little suckers out of that hair, day after day it seems, week after week, I don't know, it feels like year after year at the moment. I have to find their favourite programme on the tele, so they sit still long enough, and then bribe them with anything I can find! And as soon as I even start, my own head starts the nervous itch. Some of you reading, are wanting to have a scratch right now! 

So I'm struck by this verse that there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Some of my 'brother combinations' are as thick as thieves, and other pairings, not so much. But the Bible talks of a friend who sticks closer. The Bible describes Jesus as a friend of sinners, one who will never leave us. 

So my encouragement at the moment, is that Jesus sticks closer than even a nit on a strand of hair. And no matter what I do to try and shake Him off, get rid of Him even, he still chooses to stick by me. Of course the analogy falls down in many ways, like Jesus doesn't drive me to despair, and I wouldn't even able to live if He ever left me, whereas I think I'll literally celebrate when I get rid of the nits, maybe with a little trip to Mulberry's...

But right now I'm embracing the notion, with my hair up in a ponytail, that He is sticking with me no matter what.

(One bonus of #nitgate is that there has finally been a use for the hundreds of loom bands lying around the floor).

Sugar & Spice & All Things Nice

I'm a mum to boys and a mum to girls. Some of it is exactly the same, and some is different. One of the differences has to be just simply the smell. Sure all nappies smell the same, and each sticker-giving deposit in the potty. But apart from that, boys seem to have a certain whiff about them which I'm sure girls don't have. Maybe I'm just biased. After all, us girls smell of sugar and spice, and all things nice. It's hard to pinpoint the origin of the 'boy smell', maybe it's a combination of things. The boys have cans of Lynx which they spray around their rooms, which beautifully adds to the freshness. 

Another difference is that the girls in my house watch me. They watch me put deodorant on. They watch me moisturise. They watch me put make up on. They watch me put my earrings in. The boys do not notice these things. That may be a stereotype, but that's literally the truth in my house. They watch me re-fill the snack drawer! This week, one of my daughters watched me put some perfume on, and she asked if she could have some. I told her to spray her neck and her wrists, rub them together and then smell them. She said it was a pretty smell. 

I told her there was perfume in the Bible, and my daughter looked quizzically at me. 

"A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them". 

I explained, as best I could to a four year old, that when this lady poured perfume on Jesus, she was actually worshipping him. My daughter thought that worship was just singing, and even as an adult I sometimes still get caught up in this thinking. I explained that worship was actually how we live our lives, and that any choice we make which is a God choice, is worship. 

Whether or not she fully understood, doesn't actually matter, because I have all her days in my house to speak into her life. I asked her who she could be kind to today, and I said that being kind to people was like spraying perfume on them. Kindness is a godly choice and therefore it was worship to Him, especially if she was kind to people who didn't deserve it. 
At this point, she chose a sibling she could be kind to. Obviously the 'not deserving it' bit struck a chord with her.

It was a great visual throughout the day, for her to be reminded of. And a nicer tactic for me to use, rather than the normal, 'stop winding your brother up'. She continued to smell the perfume on her wrists. The only problem was that the visual stuck with me. Any time I was a bit snappy with the kids or grumbly towards the husband, I just had a little nudge as to whether I was spraying perfume on the people in my house, or indeed throwing a whole other smell at them; whether I was bringing worship to God with my actions, or in fact not.

Mmm...tricky with this training malarkey, because the little people in my life, don't just watch me put perfume on, they watch to see if I live a life of pleasing aroma to God; a life of worship.