Fruit Picking

I live in Sussex, whis is famous for it's 'Downs'; the beautiful, green rolling hills. I have driven to the Downs many a time for a walk with the family, or to meet another family. I see local Brighton people post pictures of the Downs. But yet it came as a bit of a surprise when I recently found myself on the Downs, after walking not very far from my house. I took our puppy for a walk, and found a field, which led to another field....and on mentioning this to my sister in law, she laughed and said I had found the famous Sussex Downs, after living in Brighton about twenty years. I just assumed they were further away, a drive away... and they are, but they start extremely close to my front door. 

Anyway, on my newly found Sussex countryside walk, the grass was dry, the land was dry, and the blackberry bushes were seasonally not ready yet. But on closer inspection, although most of the buds were colourless, some of the very end stems held a beautiful dark blackberry. I picked a couple and had a taste. They were juicy and perfect. I was quite pleasantly surprised that even though it wasn't the right season just yet, the fruit that had managed to grow, was just as good as when it is full on blackberry picking, crumble making season. I also thought that by the time the rest of the buds had changed into fruit, these first fruits would have gone past their perfect juicy stage. It felt like a bit of a sneaky treat to have found them.

It made me dwell on this whole lockdown season. Although in some ways this season has been quite full; full of restrictions, my house has felt very full (like the book 'A Squash and a Squeeze'), the online learning has felt pretty full-on, and the amount of times I have been asked for snacks, felt fuller than a full thing...there has also been a lot of lack; less food in the cupboards, less pasta in the store, less people to see, as well as personal disappointments and rapid changes. It has felt for me, quite a fruitless season; not much growing going on. 

Thinking about these tasty, juicy blackberries made me wonder if maybe some fruit in my life has indeed grown, but I just haven't noticed it yet. When it's blackberry picking season, you take a tub to collect it all, you're expecting there to be fruit. You don't have to go looking for it, it's everywhere, and you already know what you're going to do with the fruit you collect. 

Maybe I should take a moment to stop and look for the fruit in this dry season, before it passes me by. Maybe it is there, really close by, but because of the quantity of dry grass and fruitless buds, it's harder to recognise it. Maybe it's a bit like driving to find some beautiful Sussex countryside, and not realising that it is actually a lot closer than you think. You just couldn't see it for a while, or for years even, but looking back over the fields, you see all that was growing along the way, and the seeds that had to die for better fruit to grow. Nothing is wasted with God. He uses it all, and He sees the fruit right at the end of the stem, and it is good fruit, because He is the one who has been tending to it.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. 

Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit....

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." John 15

The High Low of Parenting

Parenting is a real mix of highs and lows, throughout any given day, or even hour. 
You can plan for highs, and they can still become lows, and you can be in the middle of a low, and it can turn out to be a high. Many a time a discipline moment, has resulted in us all laughing. Even this morning, I was about to launch into the same old Playstation chat after an argument had broken out, but someone had left the stairgate open, so the puppy jumped on the bed rather excitedly and peace was resumed because of that. And nice moments, which have taken preparation and even a budget, can turn out not so well in the end. 
(Oh those ones are hard to get past sometimes). 
And quite annoyingly, a lot of it can be down to how mum reacts in any given situation... 

Why's it mostly based on my reactions? Thats a bit unfair, and we don't even do fair! What if I'm not in the mood to turn it around, or put the effort in?! What if I'm tired, or grouchy, or I'm 4months into a weird Lockdown season, due to a horrible virus, which has caused disappointments, and now it's the Summer Holidays?! (Hypothetically speaking of course).

So yesterday was one of those days for me. The day, or I, or both, just felt a bit bleurgh. I wanted the kids to get along nicely, not need me, find their own ideas to combat boredom, cope on their own, feed themselves, have no disagreements, (or if they did disagree, to work it out beautifully together with love and selflessness, maybe even with a prayer together. Is that too much to ask?!) I wanted to do nothing, but I was also fully aware that 'nothing' wouldn't serve them or me well in the end. There has to be a 'something'. 

Then there's the parenting decisions which revolve around the 'something'; plan a fun activity and put my all into it, or admit I need a break and ask cBeebies if she will babysit for me, or the middle ground type of decision which I went for. (It usually matters more what my attitude is, rather than what the thing is. But hey...) So we went to a park. But, we went to the right park; the park which meant I didn't have to get too involved. (In other words, swings were out of the way). I counted the cost of parking, a Cappucino and two bottles of Fanta, and then I sat pretty much for two hours in the sunshine while two girls went and had their own fun. It was what I needed, and they benefitted from it. They stopped play only for toilet breaks, refills of water for an inpromptu water fight, to tell me what they'd been up to and to ask for one push of a roundabout. 

It did us all well. Kids can be easily pleased with the smallest of efforts. I took a photo or two, as I tend to do. I am wanting to take at least a photo a day for the whole of summer. Just taking a picture of a 'something', reminding myself that there was a choice made, there was something to be grateful for. I'll put them on Instagram, knowing that one picture doesn't let you into the whole day, but into a moment at least. I hope other mums remember that as they scroll past too. Maybe the photos will all look different, depending on the day, the energy, the amount of kids around, the sleep had, the various moods, the sunshine, or lack of... but so much of mumming feels the same that maybe they will have a similarity to them.

What I do know is that my Heavenly Father never has to weigh up His attitude towards me. He made His choice to love and accept me when He sent His son to die in my place, for all my non worthy choices. And additionally to that, He chooses to delight in me. Every day. His thoughts about me bring Him delight. I wonder which moments He chooses to remember.

"He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me".
Psalm 18v19

School's Out for the Summer

Today feels quite the milestone! My last boy, my fourth, is having his last day at Primary School. 

It just happens to be his last day of Primary School during a global pandemic, so I'm very grateful that he was able to have this last day, as the semi-last day when schools closed a few months ago, was a sad and weird one. 

We've been at this school twelve years now, since the biggest one was four. We've gone through the ups and downs of local school life; the school having a name change, uniform change, different head teachers, different staff, (and one or two who have been there forever), being part of the governing body, watching it go through Ofsted inspections and seeing it finally become a 'GOOD' school (an emotional moment).

We moved to this quaint little village, I mean wonderful vibrant estate, around fifteen years ago. We felt God say to us, to send our kids to this school, which at the time didn't have a great track record. We trusted God with our boys. I remember my eldest, one year, having twenty one different teachers! That was a bit of a hard year, for us but also for the friends we had come to make in this community. We mentioned it a lot, got people to pray for the school and the community, and convinced some student teachers to take placements at the school, and further jobs. 

We've been to the Christmas fayres, the summer fayres, the book fayres. We've bought the fundraising cakes, and sponsored the non-uniform days. We've dressed them up as book characters. (And yes there was that time when I sent them to school as pirates, a week before it was pirate day). We've been to the assemblies, the nativities, the shows, the ear-piercing musical invitations, the Paragon events, the parents' evenings, the sports days (when it wasn't competitive and when it was). We've supported the 'maths with cups' initiative, and the ipad phase. We watched the Reception area get built, and the playgrounds change. We've had the awkward chats with other parents when our kid has been in the wrong, or their kid has. 

We've lost jumpers, gained jumpers, raided the lost property for jumpers. We've sent them or accompanied them on school trips, we've sent them to after school clubs, we've picked them up when they've had head injuries or been sick. I've signed them in late a couple of times. (This may be a slight understatement, and I feel like the office staff know me far too well). We've managed to avoid the PTA but supported them and all they do, and of course, the signing in of new parent governors. 

We've made a lot of friends along the way, other school mums and dads and grannies, who you do life with every day; some just a nod over the years and some more than that. Deep chats, tears and laughter with some, clubbing with others, Facebook banter with lots, Wetherspoons with a few, church with some, coffee with others, Prosecco with anyone willing, Lazerzone with a couple, sadly a graveside with one, but a friendship with many. 

And now I'm all nostalgic, which is a bit silly because the girls are still there. So I'll be at the school for another six years. Eighteen years I will actually do at this school gate, that's quite something. This school has a bit of a special place in my heart, so today I'll be nostalgic, maybe I'll even be emotional as I hand over the thankyou bottles and collect my latest baby to leave. 

It's not perfect this school, but it represents so much of what I love, in this quaint little village of Whitehawk.  

And those who know your name, put their trust in you, 
for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you. Psalm 9v10

A Squash and a Squeeze

"Wise old man, won't you help me please?
My house is a Squash and a Squeeze".

"Take in your youngest two," said the government man.
"Take in my youngest two? What a curious plan."

Well the youngest ones were excited to be at home.
But then missed their teachers, and started to moan.

"Take in the middle two" said the government man.
"Take in my middle two? What a curious plan."

Well the middle two had so much energy to burn.
They had to learn once more, how to take turns.

"Take in your oldest two" said the government man.
"Take in the oldest two? What a curious plan.

"But they will miss their exams, and even a prom".
That will be the least of their worries, with what's going on.

"Take in the husband. His office is closed".
He will now hold Zoom meetings next to a pile of your clothes.

So in the house, all eight of them were.
Then the husband surprised them with a friend made of fur. 

The middle ones only wanted to learn maths,
and one of the others took a long time to faff.

The oldest one had nothing to aim for,
And for some, home learning was really a bore.

The youngest one, needed support with her phonics
and mum realised she needed to be Bionic.

The food all got eaten, they just wanted more.
The time just went, the house doubled its chores.

Screens had to be shared, new work spaces made.
Mum had to teach, without getting paid.

People filled every inch of the home,
But with a garden to use, one shouldn't moan.

"Mum can you help me", interupted every hour. 
No space was given, not even in the shower.

Relationships strengthened, and some took the strain.
Every day repeated; the same again. And again.

Home learning, sharing screens, and working out with Joe.
Some garden visits, but no one in the house would go.

The 42 year old lady manically laughed, "At least we're now never late,
this house, it does feel full with eight.
Im tearing my hair out, Im down on my knees.
My house is a squash and a squeeze.

"Send the year six kid back, so he finishes Primary school".

He's fairly easy, but the house does seem less full.

"Send the oldest out to do manual work in a garden".

He's the helpful one, but yes feels less of a burden.

"Send that quieter one to serve, in the church media suite".

Ah yes the house can breathe, feels like a treat.

"Send the baby one back, to sit on her socially distanced spot".

Yes four down, feels like less than a lot.

"Send the husband back out. His office no longer is closed".

Might actually get round to sorting that pile of my clothes.

Thankful at times, for this bizarre opportunity,

to stay home, to stay well, and be locked down with my family.

While others go out, putting themselves in harm's way,

And some would have loved to have had such loud days.

There's no need to grumble and there's no need to grouse.

There's plenty of room in my house.

And now she's tired, but full of frolics and fiddle-de-dees.

It isn't a squash and it isn't a squeeze.

Yes she's full of frolics and fiddle-de-dees.

It isn't a squash or a squeeze. 

(Until dinner time when they're all back,

But for now, she will enjoy the lack).

For the Storytime version on Youtube, click here.

Hug in a Mug

Last night, we had an on-line church prayer meeting, and I cried afterwards. 

I cried because I miss my church family, I cried because it was nice to worship, I cried because I was tired, I cried because I was done, I cried because I needed to cry. A friend from church messaged me jokingly to say that I looked like I wasn't enjoying myself. Darn it Zoom. I messaged back to say that I was in fact enjoying the worship but close to tears. She offered to call me and pray for me, over the phone. Part of me wanted to jump at the chance, and part of me wanted to fob her off and say it was unnesscessary. I waited a bit, and then text her back with a Yes, hoping she wouldn't see the text as it was quite late. 
But she called, prayed, didn't ask questions and then hung up. I cried and felt a huge relief, and realised that was just what I had needed.

It's funny, the emotions that are thrown up in this Lockdown; some fear, some anger, some joy, some hilarity, some stress, some peace, some laughter, some doubt. My littlest girl has an online lesson with her teacher, and the teacher asks her to draw a face of how she's feeling. So far, she has only drawn a sad face, which is sad. She's actually doing very well, and happy a lot of the time. But the on-line lesson makes her miss her teacher. 

A couple of weeks ago, we did a Science experiment in our house. We wanted to test the theory; 'people feel better after drinking hot chocolate'. My Instagram friends got involved, sharing pictures of their hot chocolates, and how they felt after drinking them. It turns out you don't feel better if you've just eaten a whole Roast dinner! Or if your mum has pulled you off Fortnite to drink hot chocolate and talk about your feelings. But on the whole, we proved the theory to be true. 

As well as getting a hot chocolate out of it, and the kids enjoying Science, I loved the chat we had about how we were feeling. We wrote down what was sad or hard about our current situation; not seeing friends, staying in the house, not being at school, (even school dinners got a mention), not going to church, or friends' houses, not going to restaurants, not going to Youth, not playing football with friends, the virus, the deaths, missing the playground, and cafes with Daddy. 

Then we read Philippians 4v11-13
"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength".

I have read the last part of this verse many times before, but for some reason it really struck me this time. I think I sometimes want to add, 'except this' to it. I can do all things, except this. 

We chatted through the meaning of contentment. And it's quite the challenge when you're looking into it, and having to explain it to little people. You have to be honest too, and say where you find it hard. It's good for them to know you're in the same boat as them, and it's only God that is 'other/separate' from us. I explained that thankfulness is a really good way to help us to be more content. So we listed the things we were thankful for; the NHS, a garden, people in the house with us, binmen, Joe Wicks, ice cream, daddy in every evening, screens, films, flour, Facetime, and of course, hot chocolate. 

I'm pretty sure the exercise did me just as much good as it did the kids, and we've stuck the 'Content' picture up in our kitchen, so we can remember what were thankful for. Because we can do all things through Christ, who gives us strength, even this.

Manna from Heaven

"It's a strange season we find ourselves living in". I think I've said, thought and text this a fair few times. There's just no real box to put this all in. There's nothing really to compare it to. It's just all a bit bizarre, and affecting us all in different ways. Or it affects us in similar ways, but on different days. Whether or not we live with people. Whether or not, we go to work, or work from home, or can't work. Whether or not, we have a garden or a dog to walk, or a bike to ride. Whether or not, we have kids, how many, how they cope, how they interact, how they learn, how they do life. Whether or not, there's two parents or one in the house. Whether or not, we have access to the internet, or enough devices, or the ability to learn without a teacher. Whether or not we're an introvert, an extrovert, an in-the-middle-vert. Whether or not we have too much time on our own, or not enough. Whether or not, we know what a sour dough starter is, what to do with one, or how long it painstakingly takes to make it into a loaf of bread.

I think we're all quite grateful for tech; the facetiming of friends and grandparents, and cousins. The Zoom prayer meetings. The Live Youtube Youth meetings. The Google Hangouts, and virtual games. The House Parties. The access to the world wide web and all it has to offer in terms of education and new ideas. The blogs, the videos, the memes. 
But I think we're also a bit done with tech; the lack of face to face contact. Being muted. Not knowing when to speak. The glitching. The freezing. The crashing. The breakout rooms.  The blogs, the videos, the memes. 

Personally for me, I have struggled to get any time alone. The little ones are up at 7am (a lie in for some mums) and the big ones are up until 11pm. And the 16 hours inbetween are filled up with so may things it seems. During the educational hours, it's juggling the needs of six individuals and working out who gets the computer when. During the creative, spiritual, emotional and physical times, it's working out who is doing what activity and in which room, with what, and with which sibling. Or indeed, who needs to be kept away from all siblings. 

During free time, it's monitoring who has become one with Fortnite, what mess has been made where, whose turn it is to do a household chore, who needs me to do the thing I put off earlier, and teaching the little pink ones that they do not need to put every single item from their bedroom in to all of their handbags. 
During the snack time, and dinner time, it's all together time, which is my favourite bit probably. Somewhere in there, there's dinner prep, and washing and texing and Instagram, and the usual 'Divide & Conquer', family warfare, as well as laughter, and "make him stop!!!" And then it's the evening, and I'm tired, but I might need to contact someone or watch a film with the teens or attempt to ask the husband about his day or reply to people, or I just simply zone out.

There were a few teary days last week, where me and the husband realised that I may need a bit of head space, and physical space. (Hats off to the single mums who crave this, and can't speak to anyone about this, let alone actually get that space, especially in this season). And I realised that with the lack of 'me time', the God time has been lacking too. Sure there's Daily Devotions, coming straight to my email address, there's Daily kids' Bible stories, there's virtual church on Sundays. There's small groups, and prayer meetings on line and there's the constant teaching of the gospel, to the kids. But there's a dryness... a lack, an apathy, a passivity, and without the necessary hunger to push me back towards my Heavenly Father.

I had a little day dream or perhaps God was speaking to me (it's harder to hear His voice, when I'm not listening) about the bit in the Bible, where the people of God, grumbled to Him and He sent them 'Manna from Heaven'. Basically like a frost on the ground when the dew had gone, and it could be gathered daily and used to bake with. I was literally thinking of everyone going out to gather their portions, and me just staying home and not bothering. Then at bedtime that evening, the girls' Bible story, was the exact same one. Mmm... 

So yesterday, I attempted to read it. There was a moment, when they all had a task to do. (Albeit the little one's task was to suck a lollipop, but desperate times require desperate measures). I was interupted by a child who wanted to share their homework with me, the same one asked when he could stop learning, one who asked if we could get a tortoise,  (I think he was meant to reading), one child spilled water on her LOL top, and another child, (or the same child, I lose count) wanted me to help her with her new Build-A-Bear magazine, which she was meant to be looking at 'on her own' I tried not to get stressed with them. Not their fault. They're trying to adjust and cope too. (Although c'mon just sucking on a lollipop shouldn't require help). 

I was in the sunshine, which definitly makes it easier. I Paused, tried again. And again. Eventually I got through the thirty six verses. I underlined one verse;

"And when the dew had gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like thing, fine as frost on the ground". (Exodus 16v14)

I was drawn to this verse, because 'on the face of the wilderness', the provision of 'manna' was there. Smack bang in the literal and spiritual sense of the wilderness, the wasteland, the dry land, the desert place, the barren land, God's provision was there. 

And the manna, the provision, was sweet (like wafers made with honey). I didn't have an amazing spiritual or emotional moment, but that one phrase tasted and smelled amazing. I guess, like food or water for my dry and thirsty soul. The source of the provision isn't in question. It's available. It's right there, on the face of the wilderness. Whether or not I actually receive that provision, or go and get it, is a whole different thing entirely. I think I will stay in Exodus 16, if I get another lollipop moment. If the moments are scarce, I may need to see where I can add more moments in. (Go and actually pick up the provision). But I think staying with this one chapter may do me good. Maybe I'll listen to it, and dwell on it, even while I'm feeding a sour dough starter. It won't grown on it's own, it needs to be fed.

Wherever I Am, There's Always Pooh

Throwback post, from eight years ago; back to when parks could be visited daily, and Antibacterial Soap was aplenty.

Last week I experienced one of those moments, you know the moments which really highlight the wonders of motherhood. I was in the park with three out of four of the boys, waiting for one of them to finish his after school club.

My almost three year old was testing to see if the boundaries of disobedience were the same in a park as they are in the house, which of course they are. I had approached him as he wasn't responding to me, and that's when I realised that he had wet himself, which may have been part of the reason for him not coming to me. (That and a slightly stubborn streak).

I explained that I needed to change his trousers, so he held my hand and we walked over to the buggy. I quickly pulled his trousers off, and it was as the poo rolled onto my hand and hit the park floor, that I realised my son had actually had more than a wet accident. These are the moments in life which no one ever prepares you for, no matter what books you read. 

I sat for a few seconds wondering what to do and gritted my teeth as another child in the park told me I shouldn't bring pooey babies there. I reached into my bag only to realise that I had made a rookie mistake; I had left the house without baby wipes! Who does that after eight years and four children? I even recently gave a mum-to-be a survival kit; consisting of wipes, anti-bacterial gel, wine, Calpol and chocolate. I could have done with this kit on this very day. 

My other two boys came to help, watch and comment on my disastrous moment. They offered to get me some leaves to clean my poo covered hand. I didn't answer them with my best motherly, calm and gentle tone. They were just being helpful, and leaves were quite a good suggestion. It was more that their 'help' wasn't adding to the situation, which I was trying to be in control of. I washed my hand with Ribena instead. I pulled my boy's trousers up and tried to pull his shirt down a bit more to disguise his mishap. I still had ten minutes to wait until the after school club finished, so the poo-child ran off to play again. I chose to delete everything that had just happened, from my mind. With my head held high, smiling at my boy, I tried to ignore the gross smell that was emitting from him, and the frutier gross smell that was coming from my hand as I waved at him.

When we reached home, I showered my son while squirting bubble bath all over his rear. I threw his pants away, replenished my bag with wipes, cleaned the buggy, and then finally an hour later cleaned my own hands; post poo, post Ribena, post bum cleaning, post buggy cleaning, with anti-bacterial soap. As I was doing so, I wondered whether there could really be a God-moment I could grasp for. I thought back to the morning when I had met with some other mums and we had looked at Ephesians 2 together.

"For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

I held on to the fact that God created us mums to do good works, which He prepared in advance for us to do. And that God's hands are clean, and if I am His handiwork, then I am made clean by Him too. Oh I know it's a leap, from poo to God. But God knew the good works us mums would have to do. To be honest, He sees all the crap! And just as I held my son's hand to walk him over to the buggy, to deal with his stuff...God holds my hand, and helps me with my stuff too.