The ‘we’re back from camp’ post…

Movie Afternoon....

Movie Afternoon….

3 weeks seems a long time to go without writing. Hmm. What happened? Ah yes, the husbandface is on holiday, we’ve jaunted around the country a bit visiting friends and family. We’ve attempted to entertain our small son for a few days inbetween and been visited by some people. More on that in another post. For now it’s the annual ‘we’ve been on camp’ post.

If you’ve hung around these parts for a while you’ll be aware that over the last 3 years, since marrying said husbandface, I’ve had to come to terms with life on ‘camp’.  For the uninitiated amongst you please do read these posts: My first ‘camp’, ‘No post-camp blues’ and ‘Last year’s camp experience’, they will explain that I’m not actually camping, that I never thought this day would come and that I actually enjoy these strange weeks of the year now.

Once more we’ve been leading a team of assistant leaders in the ways of washing up, helping out with games the members take part in and exploring more of the wonders of the Bible and our God together. The smallest member of Team Cunningham has been aiding us by providing cute smiles, excellent entertainment skills and giving us an extra timetable to juggle alongside an already busy schedule. It’s been an interesting week.

We faced a few challenges along the way with a bigger, more diverse team than normal. Having the small one around always makes me feel like I’ve lost half my brain as any conversation will be undertaken with one eye fixed on what tiny piece of rubbish he’s decided to eat next. Not the most ideal way to get to know people well. He also managed to coincide all his nap times and bedtimes with washing up times, which has meant I had less time to bond with the team over dishwashing.

Despite all that we enjoyed not having to think of what to do next to ensure the small one didn’t get bored and frustrated, we really loved welcoming the team into our family life and we saw God work in people’s lives as we fought to love each other well. Thankfully our lovely friend Lou looked after the boy in Bible Study times and in the evening we’ve been staying up beyond 8.30pm to hang out and chat with people. (we are crazy wild I know…) It’s been good to feel the underused parts of my brain creak into action again.

The benefit of constant sleep deprivation means I don’t feel as knackered as usual, mainly because ‘camp’ wasn’t all that more tiring than real life at the moment, we just go to bed slightly later. I had more naps than at home and it was great to have onsite constant entertainment for the boy.

It was another week of trying to remember my identity lies in God, not in ministry I used to do or even in being sonface’s Mum, those things inevitably make up part of my identity but the most important thing about me is that I’m a dearly loved child of God. I struggled as usual to remember that, I wrestled with wanting to go back into a past life and I found contentment in this life God has called me to right now. I want to trust him with my future, with his grace and timing in using me to help others know more of him, I want to be at peace in my job right now of loving our beautiful son. I want to be made useable. I want to love my Father and friend more and more and know his love for me and this world more. That’s some good stuff to come back from ‘camp’ with.

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Hanging another year on the line.


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Today is my birthday, I’m hanging on more year on the line (points for the song that comes from). As documented last year birthday’s can be a bit of an issue in my head. I’m learning to live with my strangeness but as each year rolls around I can’t help thinking, will this be the year I’ll finally learn how to love well? Will this be the year I can manage my pride, my perfectionism and my melancholic personality? Getting older sometimes means that we can handle some things in this life better, but getting older doesn’t mean we sin any less, being an adult, being old in years doesn’t remove us from the trials and temptations of life. Some lessons we have to learn over and over again, some we have dealt with. There are battles I don’t face so much anymore and there are weary, well trodden ones I face over and over again.

The Christian life is like that, it’s messy, it’s not some nice neat progression into sinless perfection the older we get (as much as I’d like it to be). God takes us up seemingly blind alleys, round twisty bends, the long way round and back to the same issue again and again. He’s got a better plan for my growth in godliness than I have. I’m starting to learn that he is less concerned with my sinless perfection than I am. After all he’s bought it for me already, given it to me as a beautiful garment to wear, not a stick to beat myself up with when I fail.

He has clothed me in His sinless perfection and as the years roll around I think we’re meant to be learning to appreciate that more and more. Not looking at how awesomely grown up and great we are now but aware more deeply of the One who has given us new life, new hope and a new future. Aware more deeply that He loves us, remains committed to us and will never stop working in us as we stumble around getting tangled up in old ways of thinking, being and relating.

I’m a fool but I am a fool who is loved by the creator of the universe. I’m a stubborn proud lady who despairs more than she hopes but I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am Loved with a Never Stopping, Never Failing, Never Giving Up Love. So here’s to another year of being held in his hands, of him holding me through labour, through learning life with our beautiful boy, through changes in identity and new patterns of learning how to love. I am grateful for his hand on us, I am grateful for this life he has given me, I am grateful for all the ways in which he keeps on loving me and pulling me back to his arms. I am grateful that my life is in bigger hands than mine.

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The black dog…

black dog 1I have a black dog, a darkness that will not shift regardless of circumstances. It comes and goes, sometimes circling hungrily, sometimes shy and hiding in the background, sometimes as far from the horizon as the eye can see. When it goes I think this might be the time it stays away for good, when it comes back I think it will grow bigger and bigger until it consumes me. The black dog had been away for a while, I presume pregnancy, breastfeeding and the swirl of hormones raging have played their part in its absence.

I grew used to it not being there, to the familiar weariness of sleep depravation rather than the black paint brush tarring everything I look at. Even the crazy days of the first few months of sonface’s life felt like a different kind of darkness, the darkness of everything changing and of major identity shifts.

In the last few weeks the black dog has been lurking again, so unused to it’s presence I almost didn’t recognise it. I thought that everything was broken, hopeless and empty. I forgot that’s the work of the black dog, to paint everything grey: the past, the present and the future. Every thought I had turned bitter in my mouth. Every thought of the future filled with unimaginable fear as to how everything would work out. Every relationship felt broken and filled with insecurity. That’s how the black dog works. Everything tainted, everything spoiled, everything a disaster.

Martyn Joseph wrote an amazing song that perfectly encapsulates what this feels like…

The black dog can be tricky at times, sometimes it’s really obvious, so obvious that I laugh and it shrinks small and quiet. Sometimes though it’s clever, sometimes it manages to convince me that I have made it up, deceived myself, caught in a spiral of make believe.  I think that everything really has gone dark and there is no cause, just lots of lies I have made up about my world.

black dog 2

In such times I have to spin around really fast to catch it’s tail as it races away.

A few mornings ago I managed to catch a glimpse in the gloom. The black dog has a weakness, mine, at least, can’t cope with immediate physical experiences, things that have no meaning attached to them, things that can’t be overanalysed, that can’t be reduced to bleak. I sat in my living room and a breeze swirled around me. A simple breeze that had no past or future. It stroked my skin and I felt alive again. Simple presence brought me tumbling into the now and I saw the dog scuttle away into a corner. Light burst in and I could see that everything wasn’t really black, just in shadow. Colour appeared briefly in my world and I began to feel free again.

I’m increasingly annoyed that this black dog appears in every circumstance, that the wonder of hanging out with my son each day, seeing him grow and develop could be reduced to grey darkness. I’m annoyed that I can’t see the colour, the joy, the good in my world in such times. I hate the despair, the gloom, the lack of hope. I’m weary of the vacant staring at walls or at my son when we are on our own.

I’m glad there is light, that the black dog is just a black dog, the one who makes everything seem sad. I’m glad that really not everything is sad. I’m glad there is hope and that this world goes deeper than the gloom, that we have a light that the darkness just doesn’t know what to do with. I’m glad that right now I can see colour and light again. I’m glad that there has been space to doubt the despair and seek some truth. I’m glad that someone holds onto me in these dark times when nothing seems real or true. I’m glad that Jesus says he is praying for me when I cannot string two words together to call for help. I am glad that one day everything sad will come untrue and I will sparkle like a jewel.

This has been the verse I’ve read each day this week: “The Lord their God will save his people on that day as a shepherd saves his flock. They will sparkle in his land like jewels in a crown.
How attractive and beautiful they will be!” Zechariah 9:16-17

This vision of the future has kept me sane.

There is hope for me.

One day the black dog really will be gone forever.

One day I will be free.

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Another piece of the jigsaw is back.

running_background3Early morning wake up, sun streaming all around. A thought turned to action. Familiar clothes put on again, music in the ears and slowly I walk out of the door. Feet that have been still for too long remember how to dance as I head down the road. A year and a half absence and still my body knows what to do.

The Indigo Girls start me off, Martyn Joseph helps me up the hill, Green Day send me pounding down the other side, Paul Simon sets my pace for the long road home. The lungs try and remember how to breathe, the stitch is avoided as I suck air deep and still the feet move in their old rhythm again.

Today is hot, the park is deep vibrant green, the roads empty, the bins overflowing as yesterday’s picnics turns to seagull food for today.  Now I start to hurt, muscles that have been dormant try to complain but my feet move on, my arms sway and the old grin plays over my face. This pain is good, this effort feels wonderful, these streets which I ran along for so long welcome me back.

Old men staggering from the night before stare in confusion, other runners make eye contact and we grimace at each other, I keep running. I keep running. I keep running. In these breathless moments life is found and my head clears. I am me. I am here. I run. I am. I breathe.

Red faced and panting I open the door to home. Another part of the jigsaw of me has been taken down from the shelf and fitted into this new life. I hug my boy to my sweaty face and am glad.

 

 

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Ah Saturday…

Broad beansToday has been one of those mellow days of banana pancakes for breakfast, gentle pottering in town, enjoying the sunshine, embracing the cool of our flat and taking life a bit slower than normal. I love Saturdays. Not least because I find that I’ve come to the end of the day without an aching back due to the excellent husbandface being around to enjoy the smallest one of our team.

beetroot

This afternoon I gloried in using up the rest of the vegetables in our veg box to make beetroot humous and a broad bean dip. It’s a rather obvious point to make but as I did so I delighted hugely in the creativity of our God. I’m glad he made brilliant bright purple vegetables and that he made small duvet lined pods for broad beans to grow in. I’m glad we don’t have one colour of food or one taste to satisfy us. The awesome variety on offer when it comes to food causes me to wonder at a God who could come up with such things.

In the midst of a life that feels like it’s hurtling along, as we lurch from one day to the next in a sleep deprived haze, it was good to have a day of little planned, of no great adventures, no grand moments but some simple enjoyment of creation and the quiet peace of working in the kitchen for an hour or so.

dinner

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