There is too much to write about. There are too many thoughts spilling to the front of my mind in this rare morning away from the boys. I’m sitting in our new house, staring across the rooftops to the rolling downs behind them. The house and me have been getting acquainted, I’ve finally sat down and tasted silence here, tasted the wonder beyond the silence and found again the One who stills my soul, who sits me down and sings love to me, who I cry tears to as I find again that I love, I love, I love my shepherd who tends me daily and who I so rarely hang out with.
I’m finding as I write about God these days I struggle to find the words to capture what it means to have relationship with the invisible, the silence, the wonder, the shepherd, the maker, the Lord. Language is so emotive and it’s hard to voice something that seems so incomprehensible and yet so tangibly real to me. I don’t want to use the same old words that feel cliched and trapped in a particular subculture but I also don’t want to be afraid to use words that speak of the life I know is given to me by God and shown to me by Jesus and enabled in me by the Spirit. This Trinity that is so fundamental to my existence feels so hard to write about at the moment. Life with God feels a little intangible, a flickering candle in this land of all consuming life with small people. Everything feels on hold and yet the flame still carries on flickering, not going out, yet not consistent or strong. There seems little of much certainty to write about and yet there remains a loving Shepherd who lovingly tends me day and night and without whom I am not sure how I would make sense of anything.
(Well, I didn’t know that was where this blog post was going. I have a feeling there is a whole lot more to explore in the above paragraph but it’ll have to wait until some time in the summer holidays when I get to retreat for a day. It’s beginning to put into words something I didn’t really know how to put my finger on. Writing about God is hard. For a myriad of reasons. Mental note: Explore that when there is more space.)
There we go.
Writing about Peppa Pig is much much easier.
My last summing up post sounded a bit dreary, life is hard, blah blah blah. It is, but I’m starting to be bored of my internal moaning monologue. So here’s a list of Good Things that have happened recently.
Sarah and Christian got married. Wow. We got the privilege of praying for them (well done to the boys who managed not to grab the mic or say anything silly whilst we did so). We said things like this:
We are so delighted you have put these two lovely people together to share the rest of their lives with each other, help them grow closer each day, delight in each other, sacrifice for each other, forgive each other and know the wonder of this marriage pointing to the better eternal marriage we are all invited to. Fill them full of your spirit so they may reflect you and shine out your goodness in this messed up world.
We cried. I gasped at the insane swirl of joy, sorrow and wonder at a God who gives and takes away and who has held onto my sister through the storms and joys of the last 12 years.
We are growing butterflies from caterpillars. They are in their pupa/chrysalid/cocoon (I have no idea what the correct word is) phase at the moment. In this phase they internally dissolve and reform into butterflies. I have no words to sum up the wonder of that. It’s insane. Almost as insane as one day being given a new body in a new world with no more crying, mourning or pain. Love this mentally designed world we live in.
The boys are beautiful. (and annoying and all the rest of it but mainly beautiful) Son1 is fully into the why phase which is so frustrating and delightful. I love getting to explain stuff to him. This week I marvelled at our bodies expelling food waste from our systems (why poo?) and the ability of our bodies to heal themselves as the graze became a scab, became picked off and new pink skin revealed. Wow. There’s a worship moment right there. (that’s my next book idea, alternative fuel for worship, lets contemplate our poo together). Son2 is almost exactly like a small puppy dog, tongue out he grins insanely at everyone who catches his eye, he crawls into my lap and lays his head on my knee, if he wants me he pads up to me and climbs up my legs. And, whisper it quietly now, he’s sleeping a bit better.
Tuesday group is awesome at the moment. It’s awesome anyway because it’s the one place in the week I get adult chat without boys crawling all over me (and yes if you’ve seen a mother lion with her cubs you’ve pretty much got the picture). We’re looking at Isaiah this term and bursting our brains with God’s love and bigness. This week we looked at celebration and delighted in the call to explode with songs because God is SO insanely wonderful. Genius.
Husbandface is full of sacrifice and tiredness and exhaustion, at his end as his new job starts and marking season swirls around. We struggle to communicate and love without tiredness competitions. But still I look at him and marvel that we are married and have produced two boys. I didn’t seek him out, I didn’t expect him, he was deposited into my lap and 5 and a half years on I still can’t quite come to terms with the miracle of that.
I went to the pub with a friend this week. A pub. With a friend. Mmmm. We chatted. We talked about the incomprehensible love of God and living with that in the midst of actually just wanting to hit him because it’s all too hard. I like those chats.
We’ve gone back to getting a veg box once a week which means we eat more lovely vegetables and husbandface has potatoes at least once a week (Irish man, English woman who isn’t that fussed about potatoes and does more of the cooking, not such a good combo…).
I’m writing in my house without anyone else around. I’m listening to my choice of music. I have drunk two hot cups of tea this morning. Tra la la la la.
Also Rend Collective. How late to the party am I? Anyways. Mumford and Sons style band sing some honest songs about God in a happy dancey way. Not so shabby, unless you like your honest songs about God sung in deeply sad pretty ways (not one for you Bin).
That’s quite enough for now.
Turns out there is wonder and beauty in the midst of this mental life. Woop.
As you were.