Anger

 N.B. I do not want to turn this into a political blog, because quite frankly, I know squat about politics, but there is a large part of me that has recently gotten angry at the mess the world is in. Let me explain.

Over the last few weeks, thousands of school and university students have marched the streets around Parliament -  outraged that Nick Clegg is backing down from his pre-election promses. Apart from a minority of students (or maybe not) getting carried away and spoiling what was otherwise a peaceful protest, I would commend these students for getting passionate about something that affects them.

So often young people get accused of being violent, uncaring hooligans. But in my experience, and especially in my work with young people - if facilitated the right way, young people get angry about a whole load of injustice that generally passes older Christians by. To be young is often to be powerless to the oppression of the 'world of adults' that operates without (and often without thought of) you. But young people have such a strong sense of justice that they often are moved to action a lot sooner than others when they feel injustice has been done.

Many have preached; and will preach for many years to come; about the danger of anger. Many more have interpreted this to mean that anger is bad. I would say that anger - to get angry at something - is a good emotion. Anger promotes action. Anger discourages passive behaviour. Anger promotes change. Anger discourages the status quo. Anger, as an emotion in itself, is not bad - even though some may react to the reaction in a negative and sinful way. What I have been discovering is that God requires us to be good AND angry. This is something that I have been working through personally for many months, but I was reading a book someone gave me for Christmas last year, and found an excellent chapter all about this. (You can find the same book here.)

Paul Tripp does an excellent job in promoting the 'good and angry' position that he believes Christ is calling us to be in. Think about this. How often do we (by we, I mean the Church) get angry about the state of the world? If your answer is not in the present then maybe we are missing something. Recently, I have discovered the divine art of getting angry. God does not call us to put up with injustice, but to fight it. (And by fight, I mean with passion - not violence... Jesus/Gandhi style all the way.)

So maybe it is time for the church to get angry: To get angry about the suffering of the oppressed and the poor. To get angry about the children caught up in violence and abuse. To get angry at the lack of support for those seeking assylum. To get angry about the businesses that use slave and cheap labour to create chocolate, clothes, cars and iPods. To get angry about the children growing up without parents due to HIV. To get angry about the thousands of women and children sold into the sex trade every year. To get angry about the Sex Shop opening up near a school. To get angry at the drug dealers who target young and vulnerable people. To get angry about God's creation being desecrated to feed our consumerist culture. To get angry about the people who gossip about the church leaders. To get angry about the church leaders who do gossip about their church members. To get angry at those who stop at nothing to gain power, status and money.

But in our anger - let us not be moved to violence and sinful behaviour - but let us be motivated into doing something about these issues - whether that be a protest, boycott, or simply a change in our attitude to the way we approach things, and the way we treat others around us. And if you really think there is nothing in this world worth getting angry about - get your head out of the sand, and look around you. For where there is broken and hurting people, the Church needs to act.

Comfortable

N.B. I've been in the Philippines for just over a week now, and like a moth is drawn to the light, my brain continues to search for meanings for the thousands of questions that I am presented with every day.

Ever since I arrived here, I have been confronted with situation after situation of instances where most (Western) people would throw their towel in and say, "No, I'm not doing that. Life is not fair!" But here, there is no option for that. Life goes on, through storm, pain and disaster. Survival is key. I have no doubt there are people in the West like that also, but I fear that they may be fewer and further between. Not because the West is a particularly bad place, but because I believe life circumstances grow people, and fewer there know the real meaning of mere survival.

A few months ago; whilst on train going nowhere; I was listening to a Youthwork Podcast, and the guest Pip Wilson said something that has stuck with me ever since, and I would say has had a fairly major impact on some life decisions I have made in the last few months:

"Growth does not reside in a place called comfortable... God does not reside in comfortable."

Read that again. Each time I read that sentence it resonates on a deeper level. It is not (excuse the irony) a comortable sentence to read. And I guess in a way, this blog may read the same way to you. I do not apologise for that, because if there is one thing that I have learnt is that sometimes the truth hurts more than a lie. Then again, some people who read this may not even understand the meaning of it. Some may be indifferent. To me, it matters not. Growing up in the west, I have seen comfortable. I have lived comfortable. I have seen comfortable excelerate to levels beyond understanding and need. I have also seen more greed and selfishness than I care to share. And I am a participant in that... on many levels, and I am ashamed because I am not ignorant. There may be some (and I say some, because the media broadcasts it nearly every day of the week) who don't get the extent to which poverty levels sink in countries like the Philippines, (well, most of Asia/Africa/South America) but I fear that there are many more who simply don't care. Or maybe their understanding is jaded by their privileged western upbringing.

At this moment, the story of the woman who gave 2 pennies in the temple offering resonates with me. I may not have a lot (Westernly) of money to give, but I am no longer satisfied with just giving some. Time after time after time it says in the Bible that we must give our ALL to God. Trust that HE will provide. How true is that in my lifestyle right now? I am not sure it is. I know, from just one week here that there is more that needs to be done, and God yearns deeply for his people to stand up and DO something! How can we claim to Love God, and to want to do his will when we sit in our overly comfortable houses, relaxing, seeing to our own needs, while countless numbers of children, families, elderly, are living destitute, starving, ill, dying in our own country, as well as in other parts of the world? Do we love God enough to love them?

Nearly a year ago, when I started my Degree course, I asked God to help me to grow, and I believe He has some amazing plans to help me do that, put I don't think it involves sitting around watching TV. Praise God.

"Try kissing some scars.

Try walking in someone else's shoes.

Try making a mistake as a learning experience.

Try loving the unlovely.

Try a vision for others not self.

Try downward mobility instead of upwards.

Try a worse home.

Try a poorer community.

Try a battered and hopeless church.

Try disturbing your comfortable.

Try comforting your disturbed.

Try pain when comfortable.

Try comfort when in pain.

Try grit in your oyster.

Try loving yourself like you have never been hurt."

Planting

N.B. It's late, or early. Depending on what you call these small hours of the morning that only clubbers, alcoholics and insomniacs usually inhabit. I'm beginning to wonder if there is something about this place that stops me from sleeping...

Everyone's heard that sermon about reaping and sowing, and how sometimes those who plant seed's aren't always the ones that collect the harvest at the end of the crop. If you haven't heard it, maybe you've never worked in ministry. Because it is certainly a story that resounds loudly with those who sometimes get discouraged by doing all the work and never receiving a share of the crop at the end of it.

Of course, I'm not talking about plants here. I'm talking about children, young people... any people for that matter. There are those in ministry, (and I guess in all christian circles) who sow the seeds, and there are those who reap the harvest. I'm not sure at the moment who gets the raw end of the deal. I guess it's all on my mind at the moment as many of my children and young people, and others I have invested time and energy into, are off at the usual Christian festival weeks that dominate the summer holidays, and I know that whilst there many of them will make big decisions about their lives, maybe become christian's, give up a bad habit or two, or generally be impacted by the messages and atmospheres that are taught and created at all Christian festivals. And they will come back, and tell me all about how *insert name of Christian holiday here* changed their life forever, and how they now want to live for Jesus/get baptised/live differently. And in a small part, I am left thinking: "What about all the work I've been doing with you all year? What about all the times I've tried to tell you that thing, teach you that part of faith, show you how awesome it is to live that way?"

*sigh*

It's got me thinking about all those people who I never think about when I contemplate the journey I have travelled so far. There are people in my life whom I give credit/appreciation to for helping to mould me, but what about those who I never think about? They did have an impact on me, whether I acknowledge it or not. There was the nurse who looked after me whilst in hospital, my childhood friend Tony who I only knew for a year, the boys who called me names and beat me up in Junior school, the kids I played out on the street with, the various relatives and family friends that filled my life as a kid, and I guess as a teenager. These people had an impact on my life, and they helped to craft the person I have become just as much as those I acknowledge have. Many of these people will never see or hear from me again - never know the impact they had on me, nor know of the successes and the failures I achieve. And yet, the world keeps turning. People are constantly wandernig in and out of our of lives - and some of them leave more footprints than others.

And so, I may not get a mention in any testimonies/stories come September, but I will be the one to witness each of them grow, change and develop their faith for a while yet. The person that spoke that crucial word of change into their life may never see or hear from them again. But I will get to walk the next part of their journey with them too, as I walked the last. And though I may never be (in their eyes) the one who changed their life, maybe one day, down the line, when they are sitting up late at night contemplating the journey travelled so far, they may think of me. And maybe they won't. But then again, it is not the servant that reaps the true benefits of the harvest, but the Master.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers."

Galatians 6: 9-10

Stripped

N.B. Please bear with me, this is the first time I have attempted to articulate these thoughts in writing.

Over the last few months, a lot of things have happened (some good and some bad) that have led to me experiencing the feeling of being broken and beat up inside. I say good and bad, because I believe that at some point in our Christian journey, (at least once, but probably many times) we must go through the fire in order to be refined by God. Sometimes the situations we go through are beyond our control, friends becoming ill or moving away, family members falling out, the government scrapping a savings scheme we were relying on. Sometimes those situations are scary. And sometimes those situations arise because of concscious decisions we have made.

But regardless of how those situations came about, when they do, we have a choice how to react to them. Some would say that suffering is a choice. To be stripped bare, to lose all means of survival but to cling to Christ, can be a choice. To choose to remove from your life all that distracts you from loving God and doing His will, can be a satisfying feeling, though others would have you believe that it is unnecessary.

What am I trying to say? Over the last few months, I have been looking at ways of simplifying my life. I have given away many of my possessions, stopped falling for the commercials and tried to only buy essentials, rather than special bits of tat that are unnecessary. I have attempted to spend more time with people, eating, meeting up, talking. I have tried to spend less time on Facebook and messing around on computers. I have tried to value the input of individuals in my life. I have given when people have needed, and not expected repayment. I have tried not to worry about money. Most of all I have chosen to rely on God when situations have become hurtful and heartbreaking. I have, in effect, stripped myself of some things that others take for granted.

Many people have said to me recently: "I'm really proud of how you're coping with all this" or words to that affect. I am not entirely sure which things they are proud of my ability to cope. But I do know that these last few months have meant more than just removing physical distractions and obstacles from my lifestyle. I have experienced God stripping things away from me too. Breaking off the casing that has surrounded me for so long to reveal the raw, sparkling core of my being. Relighting the fire of passion for things in my heart. Christ has been de-cluttering my soul, so to speak. I cannot say that overall it has been the most pleasant of experiences. But I do know that whatever it is Christ is doing, I am proud that I am not done yet. I am glad that I am still being moulded into a work of art, and that there is more of me to reveal, more of my potential to see, and however painful that experience may be, I know that it is worth going through. For Christ has a greater plan for me, to do greater things. And I need to be ready for that.

So watch out world, I'm just getting started!

Nine

N.B. There are many times I wish to write, but I sit and I wait for the words to come tumbling into my head, and most of the time they make no decent amount of sense to record in a blog. Please be patient. My time will come again. :)

On Sunday, I was rushing about like a mad person, as per usual before the service, trying to make sure everything was ready for Sunday school, making sure the Music group had the words, ensuring the room upstairs was ready for the group to use, etc, and all the other things that have fallen upon my shoulders in the last few months. It was crazy, and by the time the service started, I suppose I was just about ready to go home for a nap!

After the first few songs, during which I was trying to sing in the worship group and also mouth to a few young people on the front row to face the front and stop messing around, the preacher stood up to do the short children's talk. I went and took my seat next to the young people on the front row, hoping to use the next ten minutes of the service to relax before heading out to lead Sunday School, when someone tapped on my shoulder, and a hushed and hurried message about some child refusing to come into church was told in my ear. I sighed, and attempted (probably unsucessfully) to sneak down the aisle into the back of church, where, there indeed, was a young girl, around nine years old, standing in the lobby area, flatly refusing to enter church.

It was a child that I knew fairly well, and got on well with her mother, and at first the disciplinarian side of me flared, so I tried gentle coaxing and pushing at the same time, taking her by the hand and playfully shoving her towards the door. She put up quite a resistance, and dug her heels into the floor, making it near impossible to get her into the church, and as I didn't fancy dragging her up the aisle to the front row where my seat was, we settled for a nice comfy seat in the vestibule, where we could see and hear what was going on in the service without actually being a part of it. In a way I was pretty grateful myself to be out of the service to get some breathing space.

So we sat, and I began to ask her why she didn't want to go into church that morning. The conversation contintued along these lines: (Me in Italics) (Katie* in bold)

*child's name changed for confidentiality.

"Where's your Mum?"

"In there." *points to church.*

"Where's your brother?"

"In there. " *points to church*

"Oh. Don't you want to go and sit with them?"

"No."

"Have you had an arguement with your Mum?"

*nods*

"Oh dear. What about?"

"Cause she was being naughty."

"Why was she being naughty?"

"Cause she told me off."

"Well, why did she tell you off?"

"Erm... cause I was being naughty."

"Ah. Well don't be naughty then!"

*giggles*

"So why don't you come and sit with me then?"

"I don't want to. I hate church. It's boring"

"No way! You find having a relationship with God himself boring? You find coming together with others who believe and celebrating that relationship boring?!?"

"Yeah... well I don't even know if I believe in God anyway."

"Oh, okay. Why is that then?"

"Because who created God? Who is God's parents?"

"Why do you think that God had to have parents?"

"Well, how did he get there?"

"Okay, well, you know that God created tree's?"

"Yeah."

"So if everything is created by something, then you go back and back and back to the very first thing that started everything else. You can't keep going on forever, can you?"

"No..."

"Well, Christian's believe that the very FIRST thing, the thing that created the first thing that was created, was God. He started everything."

"Oh..." *pause*

"Sometimes I find it hard to believe in God too. But I think choosing to follow God isn't always about what we think or feel, it's what we choose to believe."

"Huh?"

"Well, I believe God does lots of things in our lives. And sometimes we choose to thank him for them, and sometimes we choose to thank other things for them. Like, if I pray to God to help me pass a test, and then I pass a test, I can either choose to give God the thanks, or to give myself a pat on the back for working hard for it. In my life, if I look carefully, there are many things that God probably helped me out on, that I never gave him the credit for. And in your life too, there are probably things that he's done for you. Sometimes we just have to choose to see God in things that other people don't."

"Yeah."

"But when we pray to God to help us get something good, that doesn't always mean that He is going to say yes. God knows what is best for us, so sometimes he won't give us the things that he knows are going to harm us, or things that we don't really need."

"Yeah, like the time I asked God for a barbie bike, and I didn't get one."

"Yeah, like that. But even if we pray to God to help us when things are bad, that doesn't mean he is going to say yes either! When bad things happen, we can choose to blame God for them, or we can choose to accept that God knows much more than us, and to trust that things will work out for the best."

"Yeah."

"You see Katie, I believe we can only see a part of the picture that God see's. It's like a giant painting, with hundreds of different colours, and the painting is made up of lives, of the life of the universe. Now our little life may be in a part of the picture that is really dark, maybe black or brown. We could ask God to change it, to make it a different colour, or for God maybe to make a situation easier or better, but we can't see the bigger picture. Cause the bigger picture is that it's important that for a time, we go through hard stuff. Cause it makes us stronger when we come out the other side, and it helps us in the future to be better people. So when we pray to God to make our situation better, and maybe he says no, or he doesn't change the situation for us, that doesn't meant that he wants us to go through bad stuff, but it means that he can see and understand the reasons for the bad stuff much better than we can."

"Yeah I guess." *long pause*

"Ya know, when I was your brothers age, my parents got divorced. And at the time, I really prayed hard that God would bring my family back together, and would make my parents get along. And it was really hard to go through that, and at the time, I didn't really understand why God was making me go through this really tough time. But now, 6 years later, I can see that it helped me to become a better person, and it means that I can help other people whose parents are separated or divorced, cause I can understand a little bit of what they are going through."

"Like me."

"Yeah, exactly. I know that it might seem hard and scary and not very nice at the moment, but things will get better. And you are going to be a much better person because of it. And I am sure that your Dad loves you very much, even if he can't see the right thing at the moment, and seems to be being a bit horrible, it's just cause adults get confused about stuff too. And sometimes they focus their energy on the wrong things.

"Yeah. All my Dad cares about at the moment is money. Cause we are living in his house. He just won't help us with anything, and he never really supports me or anything."

"Oh sweetie. That's feels rubbish, doesn't it? I'm afraid your Dad just has his priorities a bit messed up at the minute, and he is more worried about money than people. But one day, he is going to realise that. And Katie, if your Dad misses out on a few years of your life because if this, then he is going to miss out on something really special. He's going to miss watching you grow up! Something I'm not going to miss out on. And your Mum and your brother are going to see too. Because you are going to be one amazing young lady, you know that? And because of all this really rubbish and hard stuff that you are going through at the moment, you are going to be so much stronger, and so much braver at the end of that. And there are lots of other people who are around who are here to support you, even if right now, your Dad is too confused to do that..."

*We paused, and Katie nodded with tears in her eyes. I gave her a big hug.*

"I know something that God helped me on! When I started Year 4, my school work was really low, but then it got really good in the middle of the year, and I had prayed to God about it."

"That's great!"

By this time it was almost time for Sunday school, so we headed round into the Main Hall and everything carried on as normal. Katie stayed pretty close to me for the rest of the morning, but she went back to being a kid again. But that didn't change what I had seen in her that day. Up until then, I had seen her as a pretty average 8/9 year old child, who acts out once in a while, has the ability to spike a high temper, and who most of the time is more interested in playing around rather than sitting still. But I saw a part of her that I had previously ignored. In the many conversations I have had with her Mum, I assumed that Katie was oblivious to all the stuff going on with her parents apart from what she had been told, and that she knew very little. How wrong I was. She knew exactly what was going on, and there was a large part of her that was hurting, and confused, and just didn't know what to do.

Looking back, I guess it was that part of her that acted out in the refusal to go into church on Sunday. But in a way, I am quite glad she did. Because it gave me an opportunity to reach through the childish façade she often dons and grab her hand. Maybe stop her from falling too far. And in a way, I was only able to do that by sitting with her, and choosing not to see the stubborn child that was acting out. But by allowing her to just be, and talk, and not be forced to sit in a service when all you want is for someone to pay attention to you, and the person you are, and the part of you that is hurting so bad. I doubt that what I said to Katie will stand any kind of ground as she heads into her summer holidays. But I hope she remembers that I care, and that I love, and that I will listen, should she ever need it.

God bless her, her family, and all she walks beside in the future.

Dangerously

N.B. I know that it has been a long time since I've blogged, and that my habits recently have probably allowed most of my followers to fade slowly to the point of non-interest, but as College draws to a close I am determined to be more disciplined in my public reflections.

I have spent the Bank Holiday weekend at the Baptist Assembly in Plymouth, not as a youth worker, or children's worker, or anything really, just as me. It was lovely, if not a relief to have some time away after the rather emotional few weeks I have had. Although a lot of the worship time was not really my cup of tea, and the average age of most of the people there was well over 50, it was uniquely refreshing.

Whilst there, I wasn't being watched - in fact I spent a lot of time by myself, surrounded by beautiful strangers. I was just another face in the crowd, albeit a much younger one! But as I listened to the stories of age old missionaries and heard of the fantastic service they had done for God and for people of other nationalities, I was inspired.

Over the weekend I was also desperately writing an essay on Luke 6: 27-38, Jesus talking about loving our enemies, treating others as we would aspire to be treated, and remembering to love others as God loves them. It was helpful, and encouraging, to think that my life with God is only really beginning. That I have so much more to learn, so many more mistakes to make, and yet so many miracles to discover! God has so much more of a journey set out ahead of me, one in which he calls me to live dangerously, trusting in his amazing provision and truth and love for me, and knowing that the more that I endeavour to live His call for my life, the more I will discover about Him.

I cannot say that life from now will be easy, because I truly believe that it will be anything but! Trusting that God will provide is a scary thing to embark upon. Attempting to love those whom have previously contended, hated, maybe even attacked you, is a hard thing to do. But I truly believe that I am not travelling on my own. On the contrary, I will have neither the strength nor the will to take a single step without the Grace and Love of God pouring onto my life. Praise God. The race is on!

Painful

N.B. One of my favourite places in the world is by the sea. For me, there is something deeply spiritual about sitting down on the seafront, staring out across the water. As the sun sets it creates an atmosphere that allows me to think, put things into perspective, and spend some time alone without the pressures of what to say or do. It’s one of the few times that I truly feel able to be myself. Sometimes I curl up on a bench and cry, and sometimes I feel like drowning myself in the sea, but being completely honest before God is something that is really important to me: especially when I feel rubbish. God asks us to come before him at all times, in all moments of life, when we are battling and struggling with all kinds of emotions.

Over the last few weeks, I have learnt some really amazing stuff about the strength of God’s love for me, and about what loving someone really means. I think I’ve really begun to understand the strength of that phrase: Love hurts. I’ve always known it, but I think there are a lot of things that people know but don’t really know. And then, when you finally realise it, and it hits you what it actually means, it starts to change the way that you view the world. That’s not to say that the world doesn’t take that realisation away from you again. I think that some things you have to learn over and over again.

Anyways, this week was the handover for the boy that the Andrews family have been fostering over the last few years. He’s been at Avenue for longer than I have, so it’s been a little strange and very hard to think that he won’t be around anymore. On the positive side, he is being adopted into a really loving, Christian family where he will be with his siblings. Sadly, it means that we miss out on watching this amazing little kid grow up. It’s amazing to think that all the things that everyone has always wanted for him have finally come true, even if it took so long for it to happen. But it was also really hard to say goodbye, especially for the Andrews’ who have loved this kid like their own for over three years, and have watched him learn to walk, talk and begin to figure out life.

Understandably, the last few weeks have seen everyone’s emotions run a little all over the place, and I have had more than a few tearful conversations with various children and young people. As happy as we all are for him, we’re really going to miss him. We love that kid, no-one more so than the Andrews, but amidst that love, we must acknowledge that this is the best thing for him, and as much as it hurts to say goodbye, hurt must be endured. Even writing this is bringing tears to my eyes, though I know that everything is going to be okay. I guess one of the hardest things for me has been to watch the Andrews kids getting upset, and knowing that it’s not something that I can make any better; so on Sunday, amidst comforting crying children, I realised that the only thing I could actually do is to share in their pain. Therefore, anyone still hanging around at church had to leave by passing a small pile of sobbing Ami and children on the floor, childishly clinging onto one another for comfort. It may not have been professional, but it made a difference. It helped make that which otherwise was an extremely difficult day, slightly less difficult.

Grounded

N.B. So, 2009 is almost at a close, and I realise that I really haven't blogged much this year at all. Its not that I don't want to keep those few readers up-to-date with what I've been doing, I'm just finding it a bit harder to articulate myself these days...

Reading back through the entries I made this time last year, I feel like I don't know that person. I guess I don't right now. I guess that's what this journey, this one I am suffering myself with, is really all about. To find out more about me, about why I am the way I am and how it came to be like that. Whether I can actually change it at all.

I guess, despite my constant admissions that I dislike change (oh, and I do) I cannot deny the fact that I myself am constantly changing. Or rather, I know it, and I don't. Life; the world; circumstances and events; have changed me from the person that God created into this. What sits behind your computer screen typing this blog. And I guess what I'm really scared about, what I fear greatest of all is, have I forgotten how to fly?

Do I jump, and hope that before I hit the ground I will remember, or greater still, that someone will catch me? Do I take that chance knowing that if I don't make it, I will crash and burn. Or do I stand still, and never even make that attempt to leave the ground, knowing that even though I'm not flying, I'll be forever grounded. What do I do? Do I stand on the beach and continue to watch the world around me fall to pieces, but all the while knowing that I am safely standing on the beach. Or do I jump into the waves and ride them, taking the highs with the lows? Is it really better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all? Is it better to believe, knowing that one day you could lose all that you believed in? Or live not believing, with the chance that one day you could be proved wrong? Is it okay to go through life being just okay? Or is life all about being totally miserable and totally happy?

I guess these are the things I am trying to figure out. And although I haven't got very far yet, I'm learning that the smaller things in life matter the most: no matter what the world says. Good night. x

Workaholic

N.B. This is going to be more blunt and to the point than normal, because I just haven't got the energy to be using my literary skills. Sorry.

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes I work too much. You might think that that sounds like a boast or an attempt to make myself look good. It isn't. It is just a realisation that sometimes, there is a need to stop. I'm not very good at taking time off. There are two reasons for this: Firstly, I love my job, and the people that I work alongside (well, mostly), and secondly, I don't have many friends (outside of work) that are close enough to spend time with when I want to have time off. Also, Ryan lives in Kent. A combination of these things, and maybe a few other factors, lead to the fact that last week, I had to take time off to recover, because I was too exhausted to do anything constructive. I had to admit to myself (and to Ryan... how annoying when he is right!) that I needed to take a break.

So, after a disasterous weekend feeling rubbish, (and working Monday) I was sent home from lectures on Tuesday to recover. Wednesday and Friday I spent in bed, (okay, so I worked Thursday...) and I tell you, it was horrible. I woke up, and just didn't have the energy to do anything but lay in bed watching tv and dozing. Now, to some people, this might sound amazing. But I hated it, because the problem is that once I stop and rest, my body lets down its defences and I get properly ill, and so I have spent the last week getting over colds, sore throats, headaches, dizzy spells, exhaustion, back aches and other equally annoying and painful things... bleurgh.

The other reason I don't like taking time off is because I get bored and lonely. The last few months have a real challenge to keep me "in this world" emotionally because I have been having what I would call a 'crisis of self', and its been something that I actually haven't talked about much, although not for lack of trying. I just can't find the words to describe it, which is why its probably called a 'crisis'. So yeah. Basically... I'm a loony. No other way to put it really.

Have a good weekend.

"Putting all the vegetables away

That you bought at the grocery store today

And it goes fast

You think of the past

Suddenly everything has changed..."

'Suddenly Everything Has Changed' - The Postal Service

Kidthings

N.B. So it's half term, and the "work" has more or less stopped. No college this week, just lots of time with friends, and a few hours supervising young people to paint the youth room. Ryan's been down, and left just a few hours ago, so primarily I am writing this in order to try and take my mind off how much I miss him.

These last few days I've been staying at the Andrews house because Ryan has been staying at mine. It's been great, and I've had lots of fun spending time as part of a family, something I've really missed since being back in England. Family is a large part of Filipino life, because even if biologically you are not related to anybody in a particular household, you are made to feel part of the family, and as though you belong there, as soon as you arrive. I have experienced much of the same feeling when with any of the few church families that I spend time with outside of work, but things around here have been pretty busy, and I've barely had much time (or energy) to do that since starting college in September. More recently I have spent more and more time on my own, working, preparing, studying, travelling, walking, sleeping, eating; especially since moving into my own place. But as much as I am getting used to my own company and doing things by myself, life can get pretty lonely sometimes.

Spending time with the Andrews has brought back many memories of my childhood, many twangs of the past springing up in my mind as I experienced family life once more. The only difference is that my memories of childhood are tainted by the stark reality that it didn’t last. The family life I remember while I was growing up will never become reality again. When I go home now, everything is different, and it will never be again the way it was when I was little. But as much as that hurts, as much as it kills me inside to know that my memories are just dark little shadows in a vast array of experiences that I will have in life, I have to let that go. Because holding on to sadness like that is too hard.

I have had an amazing week spending time with Ryan, the Andrews, Emma and other friends. I have laughed more in this last week that probably the last two months put together. And I have enjoyed being around people. Having Ryan down this week has made me think about how much I miss being close to people. I don't mean to push people away, but sometimes I just can't help it. But now I know that the closeness is what keeps me going. And so I guess, even if things return to normal, and I spend the next few weeks spending far too much time sitting around missing that, I will wait until I experience it again, because I want to live to see the future. I don't want to give up, even when the journey gets hard, like I know it will.

I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. Thank you for allowing me to belong. Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for being so loving. You're amazing. x

Worship

N.B. Today at College, our afternoon session was looking at the concept of "Worship": what it means, how it has changed over the years, our experiences; good and bad; of sung worship, and different aspects of leading corporate worship. It was a really good session, even though I spent most of it away with the fairies and appearing uninterested; I was just reflecting back on past experiences...

When I first arrived in the Philippines back in July, I spent a few days in Manila before flying on to Negros. On the day after my arrival, I spent time in Payatas with the team that work at and attend the youth centre. I was given the warmest welcome ever, and even though I could barely remember very few of their names from the year before, they were all more than pleased to see me and have me stay there with them for a few days. (And of course, by the time I left I knew them all.) I was made to feel special and appreciated in a way that I don't understand, and hasn't been repeated that often since.

While I was there, about 20 of them were attending a Ministry Training Course run by Father Paul and the Youth Worker: Mhel. On my second evening, a few of us travelled to Mang Inasal (a really good chicken place with unlimited rice) and Tita Olyn treated us all to some food. It was a great evening of laughter, renewed friendship and honest realisations. Mhel blessed the food before we ate, during which he said: "Lord, help us to remember that everything we eat is food we have not shared with those who are hungry." Humbling and moving words from someone whom many in Western society would describe as "poor." Poor in material goods maybe, but rich in love, spirit, heart, acceptance, and passion for those who are suffering.

I stayed at Lourdes' that night, and overwhelmed and humbled from the hospitality I experienced from those who literally have nothing, it was a memorable night. The next morning we were up early, to have showers (a bucket of cold water that you pour over yourself with a jug), and "breakfast" (flavoured spaghetti, some sweet bread rolls and a chocolate milk drink) before setting off in the morning light around Payatas to do some errands that Lourdes had to do on behalf of the Youth Centre. Then we were off down to Block 7; the area at the base of the rubbish dump; where Fr. Paul lives when he is about in Payatas; because those on the training were leading some worship time with the families and children that live down there. Whilst completing the errands I was introduced to a few of Lourdes friends who live around Payatas and also had a good few invites to stay in people's homes the next time I came to stay in Payatas.

Of course, in true Filipino style, Lourdes and I turned up at 8am (the agreed time to meet) and spent nearly an hour waiting around for the rest of the group. I didn't mind in the slightest, as it gave me a chance to sit and observe some of the life that so often goes unrecorded at the base of the dump. Lourdes translated some of my questions to the local “shop” keeper, and I learned a little bit about the people who populated that part of the dumpsite, and saw a glimpse of what life must be like. When the others arrived, Guitar, Drumbox and bag of flavoured bread in tow; and greetings and hugs were exchanged; we gathered around a house doorway only a few feet from the fence that separated us from the mountain of rubbish that dominated and shadowed these people’s homes. I had a clear view of the dump, the guards and the people, young and old, clambering over the scraps of metal, plastic and waste clothing looking for anything that could be sold, exchanged for food, or used for something useful. And I experienced discomfort in the deepest, rawest sense.

It wasn’t the worship that made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t even the fact that all those who weren’t from the youth centre gradually made a circle of unabashed stares around me. It wasn’t even the smell that gradually overpowers you as you draw nearer to the beast of a dirty, smelly rubbish mountain. I had seen it the year before, and I had heard many stories about the things that went on day by day. I called myself a friend to some who lived there. But I had taken for granted so many things; I had wasted so many opportunities. I had let the culture and natures of English life sweep me away since the last time I stood in that place. I had not lived every day for a worthwhile reason. I hadn’t lived every day like I knew what was going on. And I did know. I had, in effect, forgotten the lessons I learned. And I hadn’t even realised.

And as I stood there, singing song of declaration and loyalty to God, I realised what a sham I’d made of things. And after streaming through the multitude of pre-mentioned thoughts in my head, I realised that none of it made any difference. I hadn’t any difference. I had failed to do all the things I thought I would when I returned to England the first time. These people still lived here; still suffered from poor health, poor housing, little to no education, and food only when profits from the dump allowed so. What had I done, or rather, what hadn’t I done?

Then I looked at the smiling faces all around me: children, teenagers and adults all singing their hearts out for God. If life was so bad, what was I missing here? What made them able to sing so freely of God’s blessing and goodness when I seemed to struggle so much? Was it that living here had disillusioned them into thinking this was normal life? I guess so – this was normal to them. But that did not stop the passion for those suffering around them to be conveyed so freely in their everyday lives. There was no hint of being disheartened that day: no attitude that things didn’t need to change. They were doing everything they could to change live for those around them. In those moments by the dump - they were worshipping God. They were telling the children who lived and worked on the dump that they needed to live for God. These young people, whose strength and determination is a constant inspiration to all who meet them, were praising their God – the God who changed so much in their lives. They were sharing the thing most precious to them. And as I stood there; I got it. Praise God.

“Oh dear God we ask for your favour,
Come and sweep through this place
Oh we desire You
I just wanna be with You, be where You are
Dwelling in Your Presence O God
Oh I want to walk with You

And I will climb this mountain
And I'll step off the shore
And I have chosen to follow
And be by Your side forever more

Tell me what You want me to do, Lord God
Tell me what You want for my life
It's Yours oh God, it's Yours
Do Your will, have Your way
Be Lord God in this place
Oh I want Your will to be done.”
‘By Your Side’ - Hillsong

[All photos from Jo Crowe (Click Here)]

Nudity

N.B. I'm just going to be brutally honest from now on, because I think the few people that still read this can handle it. That doesn't mean that I'm going to reveal everything I'm thinking, but it means that if I choose to talk about something, I'll talk about it.

I think I'm facing a real challenge to not fall back into the depressive state that I spent the majority of my teenage years in. I don't think there is any one reason for that, but many important factors that are adding to the weight that is getting heavier on my shoulders.

I feel like I have lost all my friends. I'm not talking about physically, because actually, they haven't gone anywhere. But since coming back from the Philippines, a series of circumstances seem to have resulted in me feeling emotionally abandoned. Maybe I am just expecting too much from them, but I there isn't a single person whom I trust enough to share my deepest struggle with. I don't know if that is a change in them, or a change in me, but I have lost the ability to share my struggles and not feel guilty about it. Everytime I prepare myself to offload, I think and worry about what the person is dealing with already, and don't want to add my troubles to the pile. So I once again put on that age-old mask, (and to be honest, it's getting pretty thin with all this use) and walk away. Maybe next time.

One of the main things I am worried about is University. When the hell did this happen? I'm a student. Everytime I look at the list of assignments we have I feel sick. I can't do work. I can't cope with this pressure. I don't even want to remember what happened the last time I was under this kind of pressure. It wasn't good. And what's with all this growing up? Could someone please tell me when it's my turn to be a kid? Did I miss it completely?

Today is the 5th year anniversary of the day my Dad left. The day that resulted in so much change, hurt and anguish that triggered some pretty crappy behaviour on the part of me and everyone else in my family. I don't know if thinking about that day will ever get easier. I guess not. But when I think of how things have moved on, on how much I've dealt with since then, on how far things have come, I can't help but smile a little. Who'd have ever thought that things would turn out like this? Could I ever have predicted what my life would be like right now? I doubt it.

To finish off the guesses about why I've been feeling so crap recently, I have to mention the Philippines. Apart from the fact that I just wish I was there and am getting overly sensitive and annoyed by everything in this country - the recent events that have shattered the place I idolise and love with all my heart is awful. My heart is torn by the devastation that is left in a place so often filled with smiles and laughter, even in the depth of poverty. It is a wonderful place. I have no doubt that the floods will leave people more determined to overcome the difficulties that are faced on a daily basis, and that the smiles and laughter that I have come to know well will not be wiped out. The Filipino's are a great nation, in many ways. And I know that no disaster will ever change that. I only wish that I could be there, helping those people whom I love so much, and not stuck here feeling pretty useless and alone.

That's it. That's me.

Freefall

Sitting on the train this morning I could think of nothing other than how fast my life seems to be moving these days. And, just like sitting on a train and waiting for the driver to stop at someplace vaguely near where you want to go, I feel like I have no control. I feel like the world is rushing past me, or rather: I am rushing through the world, with nothing but a vague idea where my destination will be. And I'm not even sure I want to go there.

There is so much good in my life, and I am blessed with many friends and family who love me very much (I hope.) And yet I think one thing that don't think I have ever had; and maybe I never will have; is a sound mind. The ability to just enjoy something. To just be, in a moment. I try my very hardest, and perhaps over the summer I was the closest to contentment I have ever been, but now that I am back here I can see the hazy boundary of happiness slipping further and further out of my grip. Maybe the biggest challenge I have this year will be learning to not have to be in control. Because lets face it, I have to be. Maybe thats my problem. My need to be in control restricts impulsivity - the ability to allow the moment to dictate emotion. That's my biggest fear, and yet my biggest release. To just cry, because in that moment, tears are needed. To get angry, to react, because a reaction is needed. Maybe I don't have to internalise everything and wait till later. Maybe the world is a safer place than I first thought.

Saying that, my emotions have been so up and down the last few weeks that perhaps this entire blog is unnecessary. Perhaps I am just suffering with post-Philippines syndrome and when this all calms down and normal life is resumed I will have mastered all that I am aiming towards. We shall see.

"You wanna be invisible
You wanna be alone
But it's Monday morning and the weekends a long way to go...
You're living in free fall
You're living in free fall
And you just don't understand why you never land
And you don't believe any more
In what you're doing this for
And you do not dare to dream;

When you're just a wheel turning
Somebody else's machine"

'Freefall' - Amy Wadge

Flying

N.B. So I guess if you are any kind of regular visitor to this blog you may have noticed that I haven't written in a while. There are a variety of reasons for this, none of which I really want to bore you with right now, but I just wanted to update with a little what I have been doing recently, and maybe how I'm feeling right now.

For most of the summer holidays I was in the Philippines (29th July - 3rd September) catching up with old friends, helping out in a variety of projects that I was involved in last year. I also got to share in the Wedding Day of some dear friends of mine, which was of course an amazing privilege. It was an amazing time, to see all those people and places that I have been longing to return to for such a long time now. The time away changed me, in many ways. Lessons that I have been learning this year reaching the climax of their instigation in my life, and above all else, I came home with a lot less stuff weighing down on my shoulders than I went out with.

Since being back, I have begun to struggle once more with that - 'who am I now that I'm here?' kind of scenario: comparing everything to Filipino life and with a part of me constantly wishing that I was back in that place once again. I guess in a world with so much uncertainty, saying goodbye is never easy when you think that it may be your last.

But as well as that constant struggle, I feel that I have learnt some important life lessons that are moulding me well for my future. I have noticed a few remarkable changes in myself that may not be obvious to anyone else, but that are affecting the way I live in my everyday life. There are still parts of me that need revamping. There are past things that going to the Philippines brought up in my mind, although I may not have expressed them out loud. It is all a continual part of my journey, my coming to God in the final days, my meeting my maker. All this is just a small fraction of the greater things that are to come. And so I take each moment, each day as it arrives and settles. I rise in the morning and I flap my wings, desperate to achieve that ultimate goal. Maybe one day my feet will leave the ground.

"I can't stand to fly, I'm not that naive

I'm just out to find, the better part of me

I'm more than a bird

I'm more than a plane

More than some pretty face beside a train

It's not easy to be me"

'Superman' - Five For Fighting

Drowning

So things have been pretty busy round here recently. I'm sorry for not blogging more, I guess some things have to give sometimes, and getting time to sit and reflect enough to write a thoughtful blog may not have been happening so much.

I guess checking Facebook is a far more effective way of keeping up with what I'm doing. Anyways. The last few weeks have been busy, and the next few weeks are going to be pretty eventful. I moved into my own flat last week, and take my young people away for the first time this weekend. I finish as an Optimum Volunteer in just under 2 weeks, and I fly to the Philippines in just under 3 weeks. All pretty major events that I am still trying to get my head around. Life is full of changes recently, and I've realised that on the whole, I've learnt to cope pretty well with that. Or at least I have learnt to better cope with the emotions that it brings.

I know that this summer will change me. I am looking forward to it really. Which is a big step for me. I know that there will be moments when I just don't know what to do, moments when I want to cry, moments when I'll feel like the happiest person in the world. But I guess if I have learnt anything this year, it is to ride the rollercoaster one loop at a time.

Right now, I'm finding a few things hard to cope with. Right now, I feel like I'm falling. Drowning. Being swallowed up by a big hole in my future that I just can't get out of. But things change. Circumstances change, people change, opinions change, moods change. Things are never quite what they seem. There are always depths, hidden meanings, underlying feuds, opinions and reasons why things are said and done. Sometimes it is better when these things remain hidden. I guess underneath people's problems are things that are harder to accept, harder to acknowledge and talk about. That's why people have problems. Because they hide the underlying causes. I guess it's when you try to dig too deep into those causes that you begin to get swallowed up.

"I'm all alone again

I like what she said, not what it means.

She leaves me drowning through the shallow days,

Way down below."

'Shallow Days' - Counting Crows