The Long Walk Home

  We’ve been doing this for 17 years. 17 years of rocking up in each other’s houses. 17 years of spilling our lives out on each other. 17 years of praying, asking our God to work in each other’s lives. 17 years of sharing tears, wrenched at each other’s pain. 17 years of rejoicing at a God who doesn’t give up on us, who gives and takes away and who gives again and again.

Our first meeting on a UCCF training conference feels like many many lifetimes ago. We were flung together on the first night of our year long training scheme and told to share. We did. We started unfolding our souls to each other and found that in the shared experiences of that year, the friendship formed in fire needed to remain. 

We met up again and again and it now seems ridiculous to try and live life any other way. Husbands and children have been accommodated along the way but at our heart remains three friends, unfolding our souls to each other a few times a year. Three friends committed to each other because God is committed to us. Three friends grateful for all He has done and will do in our lives and the lives of those around us. Three friends with stories still to tell of grace, hope and a home to travel to. 

Your correspondent, wondering if it matters that she wrote 17 in numerals and three as a word?

  
Dear husbandface.

It hasn’t all been bad this week. I know, every night you’ve walked into a house where your presence has made my body relax and admit how sick and weary it is, and so you’ve caught the tail end of me. The exhausted grumpy one who almost throws yoghurts at small people who won’t eat their dinner (the key word there is almost…).

But it hasn’t all been bad this week. I’m sick and exhausted but there has been space in between the moaning. There have been moments of remembering again not to live life with the kids behind my phone. There have been hours where I have put the phone up high and properly paid attention to what is going on in front of me. Facebook scrolling has been reduced and the phone now mostly no longer lives in my pocket. 

There have been times of breathing through the frustration and anger that comes through dealing with 3 and 1 year olds figuring out life and not coping when it doesn’t work out how they want it too. (Oh how they will deal with that again and again and again.) Monday’s hideous day, that we shall not refer to again, has helped me change some of my ways to ensure that level of crazy from all of us doesn’t happen again. 

There have been moments when I have remembered that what I tell our eldest every day is true. It is God who helps us make good choices, we need his help, we can’t do it alone, he loves us whether we make good choices or bad choices. I have asked once more for the Spirit’s fruit in me of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self control. I have been reminded again that God deals with us patiently and kindly and gently. I long to have the same attitude towards the tiny people in our care. I am deeply glad there is forgiveness for when I don’t. 

There have been puzzles done, fun outside, bus journeys full of conversation, just one more episode to be watched, books upon books have been read and train tracks have been constructed everyday. Brilliant plans have been concocted (mainly involving how son1 can get more train track.) There have been chats, pretend cinema viewings, cuddles through the tears and new levels of communication from both weirdos. 

There has been space between the moaning weary tired and it has been good. 

Thank you so much for picking up the pieces when you’ve got home each night. Thank you for throwing yourself into the fray. It is good to have you back from your land of sickness.

I don’t know when they write. Those people who have 4 kids and a blog and 2 books deals and… I don’t know when they write.

Anyway. The answer as usual is not to look at them but ask me. Where do I write? I write in the snatches. In the rocking the smallest to sleep. In the moments when they are distracted by tv and at the end of the day when they are asleep and in that brief time when I am awake.  

This afternoon I picked up son1 from nursery in the light. The first time since October that we’ve not walked in darkness on a Tuesday night. The sun set cast glowing light across the distant downs. Somewhere far away I heard the taste of summer evenings and I was glad. 

This morning we looked at what it means to be a disciple of Jesus in Tuesday group. I can’t think of many places the word disciple is used to describe someone. I think it means something involved and life altering. Must ponder that. 

Last night I went out for dinner with friends. It was one of those lovely times without small people to interrupt when we could swim some conversational depths. It made me think I must set up a book group soon. I must. For my sanity mainly. 

This morning I realise it’s been 2 days with no space to write, either due to energy levels or just no space. This life is full on. That’s ok, it’s just full on. I don’t know when they write. Those people with 4 children and a blog and 2 books written already. I don’t know when they write. 

I’m sitting in our spare room, currently used as a temporary sleeping pen for our youngest before he gets the hang of sleeping without being rocked and can go and sleep in his brother’s room on the beloved bunka beds. It’s a room with lots of potential for people coming to stay, for a quiet space from the madness, for extra play space. Soon we’ll figure out what to do with it. For now it’s a place to sit whilst I plan leading church tomorrow and write today’s blogpost.

I’m sitting here with a few ideas but face that dilemma of limited space and knowledge. There are a few things I want to sound off and rant about but every time I start I think about all the different opinions on the subject. I think about the nuance and the fine detail and the rant becomes diluted into acceptable bland phrases because I know that black and white doesn’t really exist in this world. I love nuance, I love the way that nothing is really as simple as we think it might be. I like that arguments are multifaceted and complex. But it doesn’t make for easy quick ranty blogposts.

Maybe I should just rant away and accept that you know that I’m aware that it’s not all so simple and straightforward as a rant has to be. Maybe. Or maybe it’s good to save the controversial for actual flesh and blood relationships, when straw men are less easy to create and knock down and relationship matters a whole lot more than a watertight well constructed argument. What do you reckon? Answers below please.

I wrote the above yesterday and never got around to finishing it until now because yesterday was one of those days, one of those days when the tiredness hit and sleep needed to happen more than writing and the small ones went crazy and we went shouty and it all needed a day like today to calm the situation down. After a slow slow week I think we are more than ready to get back into routine and structure again. All of us thrive off it and although rest has been good I think we are ready to get some normality back in our lives.

So it’s Sunday evening, husbandface goes back to work tomorrow morning, the oven is on for fish finger sandwiches (my new quick easy Sunday evening tea which helps us not just give into the craving for burgers and chips that can be easily but not very helpfully satisfied by a trip down the road to Uncle Sam’s. A greasy start to the week is not such a good thing.) I’m feeling chilled from getting to do what I love and am good at this morning- hosting church is helpful for my soul as I get to talk about God with people and that makes me remember how brilliant he is all over again. We then spent the afternoon with very good friends mooching around with them and their kids. (Hmmm we’ve just checked the fish finger situation and it looks like husbandface is off out to try the new kebab place down the road…).

Right. A week of writing has happened. Lets see if this can carry on in our normal weeks rather than just in the extra space half term provides.

(right, I’d best go switch the oven off)

We are in bed at 18.45. I briefly went downstairs after the boys went to sleep, looked around and decided it would be best to simply turn off the lights and head to bed. We are tired. Sitting on a sofa feels like a step too far this evening.

We’ve had a slow week. Plans of seeing family haven’t worked out, we’ve all had coughs and colds and the smaller ones have found sleep to be elusive. Even when they haven’t my sleep pattens are so out that I can’t sink back into sleep quickly. I’ve listened to lots of Dear Hank and John in the middle of the night this week (you should too). 

So we’ve had a slow week. Occasionally we have ventured out of the house to a garden centre or food shop but mostly we’ve been based here. Slow weeks are hard with small ones who tend to get cabin fever, son1 wants to see his friends, I and the husbandface want some sleep and the little one just pads around smiling or crying depending on the time of day. 

I wish I had a profound point to make. I don’t. Sorry. I just committed to writing each day and so here we are. In bed watching season 10 of Bones. I hope for sleep tonight but I’m not confident. There is too much coughing going on. Yawn. Night night.