Happy Birthday Son2!


Today marks 6 years of our lovely youngest boy in this world. There isn’t a whole lot to say that hasn’t been said before. I wrote the poem below when he was 4 and it still applies to this wonderful ball of energy, passion, love, concern, enormous emotions, overly dramatic whirlwind of a son. 

I’m sure it was just the other day

that you sped crawled into my lap
Grinning like a wally,
face snuffled into mine.

I’m sure it was only yesterday

that you
Grabbed my face
and turned my full attention to you.

All or nothing from the start

I’m sure you were smaller
Less articulate
Fitting more easily into my arms

I’m sure it was only a few moments ago that you twisted down and entered this crazy world

Perfectly formed face blissed out asleep on the bed
Whilst I rode the endorphin waves of your safe incredible arrival.

I’m sure it wasn’t long ago that all you could do was stick out your tongue

And gummy smile your sun to my heart.

I’m sure it wasn’t all that long ago when you started to smell me deep each cuddle,

since you learnt to toddle around
investigating all you could find.

You.

Over there

On the other side of the room.
Sprawled long on the beanbag
Head propped in your hands.
Unselfconscious, gazing deep at the screen.

You with all your thoughts, ideas, plans, imagination and desires.

4 years? Now 6?

I’m sure it was only yesterday.

I adore his face and his cheeky dimpled grin. I am bowled over by his enthusiasm for people. I am endlessly amused by his love of sparkly bling and always entertained by his passion for each one of his multitude of teddies. I am exhausted by the challenge to help be a safe space for his myriad of feelings and emotions and not a sponge of them all. 

I look at him, tall, full of life, articulate and funny. He no longer needs to hold my face to get back to sleep but still he orbits around me. I gaze at him and soak up the snuggles, knowing that the old adage remains annoyingly true. The days are long but the years are speeding up. 

This post is still the best I’ve written for him. It sums up the crazy wonder of his birth so well, the rare treat of a straightforward beautiful entrance into the world. And my prayer at the end of it is still one I pray, still my desire for this ever growing wonderful boy.

I pray so much your delight in people would last and grow strong, that your dogged determination would channel into powerful love for others and commitment in this life. I pray that you would come to know your Maker as your friend and more. I pray that you would be wholehearted in this life, full of compassion and love. I pray that you would draw the outsider in and I pray that you would always, whatever, truly know that you are loved and would be strong and secure in that love. I pray for your protection in this world of ours, so beautiful and so broken and that the struggles you face in this life would not shake you or destroy you but our wonderful Maker would use them to bring good to you and those around you.

I really enjoyed the extra time to hang out with him this year, one upside to this whole global pandemic year. I love the light in his eyes and in the eyes of his brother. I love this crazy journey we are on together which is exhausting but incredible right now. I freak out about the future over and over again but in the midst of that I am brought back to the present, the now we have, the chance each day to enjoy them, interact with them, learn from them, have conversations with them that I hope and pray will build a solid foundation for any storms we face ahead of us. 

I am also grateful that we do not parent these boys alone, that I know their Maker delights in them and loves them, that there is a ultimate secure homebase for them in the Everlasting Arms and I long for them to grow up secure in that love, knowing they are beloved, able to love well those around them, able to get up each time they fall, able to mess up and know grace, able to walk through this world with hope and wonder. 

Lots of the time my parenting feels a bit like the Mums in Dear Evan Hansen, desperate for a map, searching for how the hell to do this. Sometimes though in reality, and lots in intention, it feels like this Alanis Morrisette song below. Watching this video breaks my heart and I echo the beautiful line, “my mission is to see the light in your eyes ablaze”. The times my boys eyes light up are the best and I always want to nurture that light through whatever weather lies ahead. (I’ll save my other parenting song of the moment for Son1’s birthday later in the month). 

Posted in Life on the journey | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Remembering Geraldine Cunningham

Today marks the 9th year since my mother in law died of cancer. Finally I think we are getting the hang of how to remember her well and honour her life within our family. Grief is a strange thing, it twists and turns and shows up in unexpected places. Life is similar. For the last 9 years it seems like we have either been through major change or dark stormy times around this time of year. This day has come and gone with little ceremony but with a darkening around husbandface’s world and an exhaustion in his bones. Grief has worked it’s way through his body and we have weathered the storms around this day.

Last year we realised we wanted more of a celebratory air to this day, to mark this day with the things we loved about Geraldine, to give our boys some tales of their Granny and to do some things she would have loved. So we will spoil our boys today, we will eat a lot of sugar, we will talk of the good times, the heart of generosity, compassion and care she had and the ways her wonderful children carry on that legacy of abundant generosity and outpoured love. We’ve bought sunflowers to fill our kitchen with her favourite flowers and we will remember her fullness as we walk on in this life.

Here are some words I wrote after we returned home 9 years ago, after her wake and funeral. I am still sad I didn’t get to know her better and I am still grateful for her heart and passion for her wonderful kids. I’m glad I got to marry one and be friends with the other.

We buried my mother in law on Saturday morning after a long fight with cancer. There is no other word to describe it, we use cliche’s for a reason after all. Fight is the word for Geraldine’s refusal to give in to despair and for how desperately she clung onto every opportunity for hope against the rising tide of cancer. I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked yet strangely her illness provided the opportunity for better chats, deeper relationship and the chance to hear her life story. These gave me a chance to see the deep love she had for her children and her strong desire to provide them with roots in this unstable world. She was a woman of passion, full of banter, who loved being in on the action, who loved gathering people for a party and who poured her life out into her family, both in her first and second marriage.

I’m sad that we won’t get told off for giggling on the sofa anymore, with her eager to join in on the joke. I’m sad that I won’t have the chance to tell her that I love her desire to get everyone she knew the perfect gift, reflecting how well she knew them. I’m sad that there will be no more moments when I can ask her questions about her past and the roads that brought her to the place she was in life.

I’m grateful for knowing her and I’m grateful that she welcomed me into the family, getting used to the strangely quiet English girl who had appeared to have stolen her son’s heart so quickly. I’m glad that we had the many trips to Belfast this year so I could know her better. I’m grateful for her enjoyment of our marriage and I love her son, my husbandface, and his care and concern for her over the last year. I love that she got to come and hang out in Brighton with us at Easter and see how we live.

It took us a while to understand each other, it wasn’t an easy straightforward relationship, we had a wide cultural divide to cross but I’m very glad to have had Geraldine Cunningham as my mother in law and we will miss her lots.

Posted in Ramblings | Leave a comment

Thoughts on interdependence…

Yesterday I preached on interdependence, one of our churches 5 values (conveniently they all begin with ‘I’, inclusion, integrity, intimacy and involvement are the other ones.). On a side note I love that we don’t particularly have goals or visions for the future but we have a way to live in this evolving journey we are on as a church. We long for these values to inform and shape all we do and the ways we interact together. We get it wrong a lot, but each year we remind ourselves of the ways we want to walk in, and how much they are found in the heartbeat of God.

Small advert for our church over. 

Yesterday I spoke on interdependence and mainly quoted from a brilliant book I was given for my birthday this year. ‘Braiding Sweetgrass’ by Robin Wall Kimmerer is exquisitely beautiful. It’s a series of essays reflecting on the natural world we live in and our interdependence with it. One of her major themes revolves around gratitude waking us up to the abundance all around us. She also talks about reciprocity lots, which I can just about say now. I quoted her extensively because of the huge amount of wisdom when it came to looking at interdependence.

My basic talk went along the lines of – interdependence isn’t a value we have to try harder to achieve but a value to wake ourselves up to. I offered three images to help us see the interdependence all around us. Firstly, we are part of an interdependent world, look at nature (see the quote below about how fungal networks help trees). Secondly we have an interdependent God, look at Jesus hanging out with his friends, Jesus needed people, his life down here was incredibly interdependent. Thirdly we are the interdependent body of Christ on earth, look at the way we are described as a body in 1 Corinthians 12. We need each other and are part of each other, just as much as our bodies have their individual parts making up a whole, unable to function without each other.

Then I wondered how we could lean into becoming more aware of our interdependence on each other?

We might start with gratitude, Robin says in her book, “appreciation begets abundance”. When I am thankful I start to see my abundance, I start to see the wonder of what I have and find that it is enough, more than enough. Gratitude helps us wake up to the wonder of our interdependence on each other. 

Next mercy and forgiveness help us keep going in our interdependence, they are the ways we can move through the pain of being hurt by each other. We are going to hurt each other, no-one can live in community with others without being hurt. Mercy and forgiveness are needed so we can stay in this interdependent state and not rush off back to island living.

Lastly ceremony or sacrament are the mechanisms we can sustain our sense of interdependence long term. Ceremonies help us by providing physical signs of invisible realities, communion is an obvious example. Ceremonies are important for us to feel connected to each other, to see the strands that hold us together. Showing up for each other each week is a ceremony, coming to church used to be a powerful ceremony and we might want to think about what ceremonies we can enact with each other to remind ourselves of our interdependence together in these more disconnected times.

Next week we have partnership Sunday, where we recommit ourselves to each other for the year ahead. We are planning to make it ceremonial, a physical act in times when it is hard to be physical together. I am hoping and praying it will be significant as we invite people throughout the day to travel through our building, praying a labyrinth and then signing up to be partners of this church for another year. Hopefully the time-lapse will be awesome.

There is much more I could have said, or maybe should have said, but forming these thoughts together this week have helped me be in awe again of the created world around us and our creator who wove interdependence into the fabric of our lives and planet because we were made in their image, all the created world reflects back the interdependent dance at the heart of God.

I’ll leave you with some of the quotes from Robin, such beautiful words to help us dwell in this world with wonder: 

“The trees in a forest are often interconnected by subterranean networks of, fungal strands that inhabit tree roots… These fungal networks appear to redistribute the wealth of carbohydrates from tree to tree. A kind of Robin Hood, they take from the rich and give to the poor so that all the trees arrive at the same carbon surplus at the same time. They weave a web of reciprocity, of giving and taking. In this way the trees all act as one because the fungi have connected them. Through unity, survival. All flourishing is mutual. Soil, fungus, tree, all are the beneficiaries of reciprocity.” 

“Each part of creation is thanked in turn for fulfilling it’s creator given duty to the others, it reminds you every day that you have enough, more than enough Everything needed to sustain life is already here. when we do this every day it leads unto an outlook of contentment and respect for all of creation. You can’t listen to the thanksgiving address without feeling wealthy. and, while expressing gratitude seems innocent enough, it is a revolutionary idea. In a consumer society, contentment is a radical proposition. Recognising abundance rather than scarcity undermines an economy that thrives by creating unmet desires. Gratitude creates an ethic of fullness, but the economy needs emptiness. the thanks giving address reminds you that you already have everything you need….Cultures of gratitude must also be cultures of reciprocity. Each person, human or no, is bound to every other in a reciprocal relationship. Just as all beings have a duty to me, I have a duty to them… appreciation begets abundance”

“Ceremony is a vehicle of belonging to a family, to a people and to the land”

Posted in Life on the journey | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Autumn

Last night at church we sat and pondered Autumn. I remembered there are many things I quite like about this season and wrote the poem below. These are strange times we live in, in the midst of them it has done my soul good to remember the unchanging nature of the changing seasons. Some comfort in an uncertain world right now.

Autumn
feels like journeying into warmth
cold crisp mornings, wrapped up tight
frost glinting on grass, spiders webs soaked with dew.

Autumn
feels like being surrounded,
encircled, drawn into something safe
held in big woolly jumper hugs, stories around candle light
curtains closed before dinner.

Autumn
feels secure, sheltered against the rain,
fireworks, crackling flames
Mist hanging over our hills,
Endless cups of tea listening to Travis.

Autumn
feels like the slow dance,
before the death of winter barren lands,
the rest and gathering before longing for spring
the delight in the beauty of dying,

before
silence,

before
resurrection

can
begin.

Posted in Life on the journey, Outdoor fun | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Pondering prayer

On Sunday night we talked about prayer in church with other people. It was wonderful and strange to be to be physically present with people again. It was good to take a look back at what prayer has meant in my life. I’m not sure I have any kind of coherent narrative to offer about prayer. Prayer is possibly one of those things that can’t be packaged neatly, won’t be put in a box or managed by our efforts. At most basic I think it’s the word that reflects our interaction with our Maker, the Divine, God in all their three personed wonder. As such it can’t be easily contained into words and ideas. It is too broad for that.  So I wrote down what first sprung to mind when I thought about prayer.

Here you go:

Prayer

Eternal frustration.
The nearness of breath.
The gasp of delight
at the abundance of Yew trees
on the path ahead.

Talking, crying, looking in.
Awe struck on mountain top.
Bleak empty silence down
on the valley floor.

Desperate cries in the night
All my need, desire, aching want
held out to

You

Surprising, breaking in, bringing hope,
The light shaft through the clouds
The thread holding me here
The warm blanket on a cold night
The washing waves
at sunrise
on a deserted shore.

Posted in Life on the journey | Tagged , , | Leave a comment