The Long Walk Home

An ice cold clear night. Stars sparkle up above as we drive through twisty black roads. An old friend. Conversations swimming deep as the years are recalled. Pain, sorrow, hope and joys retold. As if no time has passed at all. And yet here we are. Side by side in the dark night.

We journey to hear the man who has sung us many songs across our lifetime. Whose music always brings joy and wonder and has accompanied us through so much. Martyn Joseph has been the soundtrack to so much of my life and soul searching moments over the last 20 years. A line of silver thread through heartache, certainty, doubt, confusion, wonder, pain, friendships, marriage, children and more. 

He comes on stage and we stop the chat mid flow, taken off guard by the reason we are here. The guitar launches into action and the call is clear. ‘Sing to my soul’. Yes please. To our souls that have seen too much to really explain these past few years. Sing to our souls in such turmoil at the circumstances in our lives. Sing to our souls on this day of big news and uncertain change in the world around us. Sing to my soul. Sing to this dark. 

‘I’m here tonight to tell you that somehow, somehow it will be alright’. The mood is somber tonight. The backdrop of news from another land is burning across the set list. Like a love call to a nation we are given a night of songs that need to be sung to stir hope in the midst of fear. We are reminded to look for the good in this crazy world. We are given a night to whisper in that the glass is so heartbreakingly beautiful, that we may not have the luxury of despair. We can keep going through the dark. 

This is the theme of the evening and he sings it loud and strong. A call to not give in, to cherish kindness and courage. A call to keep on loving. A call to be brave and strong. A call to mother love that goes on and on and on and on. A call to remind us loudly that the ‘purpose of power is to give it away’. Deep in the heart of Sussex, miles from our day to day worlds, music does what it does best. Our souls are soothed. We are stirred with light and truth. We are reminded of hope and we are deeply glad we have someone who sings beautiful wonder to us as we sit in the dark. 

We drive home in the ice cold clear night. Somehow I sense there is a way to keep on walking in this dark. 

It’s Friday. We’ve made it through another week. There have been good times. There have been shouty times. There have been cake times and lots of episodes of Bones.

As I look back I can see the stuff that really really helps in this mental world right now. I have realised there are several immovable things in my week which make this land possible. 

I have to run. 

I have to talk to God in some form or other. 

I have to read. 

These three things give me much needed alone time. And thus I have:

Time to reflect. 

Time to get endorphins flowing around my body. 

Time to be restored by eternal perspective and love. (Psalm 19 reminded me this week that God’s way of doing things brings refreshment to the soul. Refreshment to the soul. Sounds good eh.) 

Time to be in worlds that are not my own (reading is particularly helpful for that both fictional and non fictional.).

In this world of intense non stop small boy interaction the space these three things provides is wonderful. Without these I think I would be in a much more exhausted state. 

Other things of note:

Once more the lovely Jo took the boys for a bit on Thursday morning enabling me to take the husbandface for a rare trip out of the house and into the sunshine. It was a strange kind of date, a 10 min walk followed by take out cake and coffee drunk in separate rooms. But it was a moment of connection nonetheless. 

Money from my mother in laws estate has provided us with a workshop for husbandface to get creative in and have a space to hang out that’s not our bedroom. It arrived yesterday. It’s a beast. But I think we’ll get used to it slightly destroying the view from our dining table…

Today an old friend from years back is coming to play. We are off to see the excellent Martyn Joseph tonight and I can’t wait for an evening out and to have the deepest parts of my soul soothed, which he always seems to be able to do. I haven’t seen him live since son1 was 4 weeks old and I pretty much sobbed through every comforting familiar song helping me make sense of the confusing world I found myself in. Tonight may have a similar effect. We will wait and see. 

Having friends come play also helps weekends feel like weekends, which is really important right now. Weekends are the hardest as it’s then that it’s most obvious how little husbandface can manage and I feel the most odd with no routine to cling to. It will be good to do Saturday things and enjoy the break from routine rather than fear it. 

And there we are. 

As you were. 

Happy Friday 

Friday evening.
So we are here again. The end of another week. It’s a good job I’ve started writing this after seeing my spiritual director. It would have been a more gloomy affair had I written at lunchtime. Some sitting in quiet, some noticing of the view around me has enabled me to get a more peaceful perspective on the week. 

We were back into full on routine. Nursery for two and a half days, toddler groups and music class for the youngest and some inventive ways to try and spend long afternoons indoors. The boys have been generally hilarious this week. Their imaginative play is beautiful and weird and I love hanging out with them. Getting them to do anything is slightly more problematic as I have no patience right now. I’m not so enamoured with myself this week. I’ve been far too close to the edge of anger and frustration which has spilled out in ways that I am not proud of. 

Tuesday morning 

I was sure I would have time and energy to finish the above post sooner than this but there we go. The last sentence is still true in this new week. I have a long way to go to discover the art of gentle calm parenting. 

On Friday evening my spiritual director asked me how I was in the midst of the slightly odd world that is ours at the moment. 

I am ok. In some ways better than for a while and in some ways very close to the edge of stress and anger. I can see myself tidying and cleaning more than usual and being so much less tolerant of the boys mess and squabbles over toys. I want to control something in this land I feel so out of control in. I can’t make my beautiful man better and I don’t know how long this will last. Anger rises too quickly. Frustration at the situation we are in spills out on the small ones. I am sad this has too often been the case this week. 

I return again to the reality of grace, the needing forgiveness hourly and to knowing that I too am a child with a very patient and calm parent. I am held. I am loved. Words that I long to believe and live within. I am loved. I am a child in Good Hands. I am loved. I too often jump to a picture of a disapproving parent when it comes to thinking about God as one. I long to replace that sour image with the actual one of delight, compassion, patience and kindness that the Bible tells me my divine parent is full of. 

In Tuesday group today we read of a God whose laws and ways bring refreshment to our souls. Oh to really believe that with all the core of my being. To not just know the theory, but to love and embrace the utter wonder that God’s ways bring refreshment to my soul. We talked about enjoying God, hanging out in the wonderful world he made together. 

As I sit here in the car with the sun shinning strong and son2 asleep behind me I can feel the stirring of hope and the strength found in being a beloved child. The strength to love, to keep on walking and not be destroyed by the circumstances around us. 

I breathe. 

I gaze at the blue skies and green hills around me. 

There is hope. 

I am loved. 

We are held. 

I breathe. 

I am grateful for the people who have made our week and weekend easier. For reading many books to our boys, coming and sharing in garden centre joy, for providing safe houses to sit in on rainy afternoons and for holding us in their thoughts and prayers. Husbandface has been signed off work for the next 4 weeks and we have no way of knowing how long this tunnel is. 

We walk slowly on. Shuffling through the dark. Aware of a hand holding onto us. Aware of others coming and going to encourage and shine some light. 

We walk on. There is grace enough for this day. There is a refresher of souls with us. 

(Remind me of that next time you see me around eh? Writing this down reminds me but I so easily forget)

A couple of years ago I started noticing, in the world of social media, that people were talking about their word for the year. Maybe it was just the different people I was paying attention to or maybe this was some new thing that has started. I still don’t know where it began, neither can I really be bothered to research where it came from (apologies for my laziness). Anyway, it has intrigued me for a while and this new year I pondered what my word for the year would be, were I to participate in such a thing.

Survive sounded a little to bleak even for me. Thankful kind of summed it up but I wanted a more intriguing word. In the services at church over Christmas the reality of Mary treasuring stuff in her heart grabbed me again. Mainly because I had always kind of assumed she treasured what the angel said. I hadn’t really registered that she treasures and ponders things in her heart after the shepherds have been. 

It makes sense, that was when things calmed down and the reality of looking after a baby hit. If there was ever a time for treasuring and pondering this was it. So much had happened, the shepherds confirm and add to what the Angel had said before she conceived Jesus. This was no ordinary child and no ordinary life. But still he’s a child that needs feeding and burping and cuddling. Treasuring up in her heart seems like a good thing to do with all that incredible truth about who he would turn out to be. 

So there it is. My word for the year. Treasure. I long to treasure the reality of God’s work in this world. I long to find the treasure he has in store for me each day. I want to store up treasure for the long days when it’s me and the boys and I need to remember the good in this world, and the One who made that good. 

The boys are obsessed with treasure boxes, which helps my thinking about this. They store away their treasures and enjoy the thrill of boxes of stuff. My amazing husbandface made me a treasure box of my own for Christmas (not knowing these thoughts in my head) in it he wrote cards for the days and moments I would need treasure from him. Treasure seems to be on our minds at the moment. 

The Bible has much to say about treasure and our hearts. I want to explore that more. I want this year to be about exploring the treasure on offer, listening to where my treasure lies, to the pull of my heart. I want to treasure up the moments of joy and wonder in this broken bleak world and be thankful. I want to squirrel away the good things for the nights when it all seems a bit too dark. 
How I do that I don’t know. Whether I blog once a month about treasure to refresh myself I’m not sure. It sounds like it would be good to add treasure to my box as the year goes on, maybe a physical storing up of the moments of God in our life. 

For now, I am enjoying my heart wrapping around the word treasure and seeing where it takes me. I am enjoying the hunt and the various metaphors involved with the idea of treasure. 

I’m sure I will return to this theme sooner or later but for now it is good to draw together my rambling thoughts and place a marker in the sand. This year is the year for treasure. I’m off to find a map. 

It’s Friday. It’s the first week back into some kind of routine and thus my inner clock is compelling me to shut out the sounds of Raa Raa the annoying little Lion in the background and type away reflecting on the past week.

First up: it’s January and so far (all of 6 days in) I don’t feel like a frozen tree frog. For the first time in I don’t know how long. 

I’m keeping half an eye on this and don’t want to get too excited but it seems that maybe the SAD lamp, reduced sugar, boys sleeping more, regular running and who knows what have made this January feel approachable. We are still hibernating each evening with bed and Greys Anatomy winning once the small ones are asleep, but there is a lightness in my head that feels new for this time of year.

I say all this with a pinch of salt as that could all change tomorrow. For now though I notice and I’m glad. 

We’ve had a pretty good week, all things considered. Life is now lived against the backdrop of the lovely husbandface’s illness. He’s able to focus and interact for about 20 min out of every 4 hours. Adjusting to that has made up most of our week. I am so sad my favourite and best is so struck down like this. I long for his mind to be free and to heal well. I pray this time out will bring change and hope. If you pray please join with me. I’m not going to go into much detail here as it’s his life and not mine to share publicly. But please do message me if you want to know how to pray. 

Thankfully there are things he can do. He has sat with the boys during lunchtime watching, so I have got out for a run in the day a couple of times. He can also sit with them at bedtime so I can escape to run then as well. (Or just slump on the sofa and not be touched by a small person for a bit). 

I’m still running and still connecting with God. This means the week is manageable. Endorphins and awareness of being loved massively are keeping me sane right now. Me and the boys have enjoyed bumbling around in parks, going to a farm, meeting up with friends and doing many puzzles together. I am really enjoying their increasing love for each other and imaginative play. They are uber funny (and irritating) and I’m genuinely loving hanging out with them at the moment. 

The wonderful Jo (one of son1’s Godmum’s) took them both on Thursday morning and I managed a beautiful stomp on the sunny ice cold downs. I felt like skipping over the hills, as light as a feather without small boys in tow. It was beautiful and another gift to get me through the week. 

I’ve got another blog post brewing about my word for the year (yeah it’s a thing…) which I’ll leave for another time. For now though I’m grateful for getting to the end of this week. I’m grateful that Mum and Dad coming tomorrow will make Saturday feel like a Saturday and not just another day of me with the boys. I’m grateful for all the friends who’ve loved us so well this week and I’m grateful that my brain is able to ask God what he has for us in the midst of this and isn’t just slumping into it’s usual despair. 

And there we go. 

This week. Mostly brought to you with the backdrop of two small boys shouting the words to Let it Go constantly.