Voicing my complaint…

Posted on November 22, 2013 by Kath
Because mostly life is this messy...

Because mostly life is this messy…

Psalm 142 talks about voicing complaint to The Lord.  I have a few of my own right now.  Mainly these revolve around a boy who still wakes up 3 times a night or more, a hatred of sleep depravation and the haze it places over things, the lack of cinema visits in the last year, the sadness of not having the time or energy for new people as we would like, the sadness over not being able to hang out with old friends as much as we would like, the frustration I feel when I hear the cries for the 4th time in the night and wish I could just blot out all sound, the sadness I feel with myself when the patience runs out and anger takes over.

Oh yes Mr Psalmist I too have a lot of complaints.  These are the realities of life right now. I think somewhere in my subconscious I’ve assumed that voicing complaints means I am self pitying and unable to put on my stoical socks, pull them up and just get on with it. But if voicing complaints was the same as wallowing in self pity I doubt we’d have so many Psalms full of complaining voices, voices pouring out their hurt and pain.  I am feeling pain right now.  I cannot deny it or squash it down.

Some say, well look around, you’ve got it better than most, your situation is actually pretty good, you have a child for a start, you have a loving husband who you play tag throughout the night with.  Come on, buck up and pull up those stoical socks.  The trouble is, those voices only have the power to send me into self pity rather than away.  The answer to my troubles is not to ignore them, to compare with others and try to feel better about my situation.

The answer is to honestly bring them to The Lord.  I voice my complaint.

The Psalmist comes to the conclusion that he has no refuge and no one cares.  But then he says, The Lord is my refuge, he is my portion in the land of the living.  I think that kind of jump is what is meant to happen to us as we voice our complaints.  That’s why first we voice them to The Lord. He will not tell us to pull our socks up or that there are people worse off than us so get on with it.

He listens to our complaints.  He sees us come to the end of our hope in this world and he then steps in and gives us him.  Whatever my nights have been like, however much time off I would like, however frustrating it is not being able to be more hospitable, however sad it is when I feel and act like a rubbish friend to people  The Lord comes and gives me himself. He is my portion, not all these other things I look to for hope and meaning in this world.

On a morning after a night when I reached the end of all patience and felt anger towards my little cute son, when I despaired of this season ever ending, when I wished just to be able to have a night off, time with old friends, time for making new friends these were good words to read this morning,  I can voice my complaint to The Lord. He listens. He is my portion.  He is my enough. I can face today not because I am great but because he is.  He is my refuge in a hard hard world

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Ranty rant

Posted on November 21, 2013 by Kath

So, I’ve got to that stalemate position in blogging again, the one that freaks out because I worry about who is reading this, whether they like it, whether they think I have the perfect life because I have a husband and child, whether I’ll ever be famous (the answer Bross is No, by the way) whether anyone will get that 80s cheese reference, why I care about anyone reading this blog anyway, what if I just want to wibble on about how much I love my son, would anyone care and does it matter?

The answer to all these questions is quite loudly. IT DOESN’T MATTER. There, I’ve even used block capitals like a crazy pre 2000s texting fool. Ha. It really doesn’t matter. If you get overly sickened by my random learnings about God through parenting sonface you don’t have to come here. If you hate my every uttering and think I’m a fool you don’t have to come here.

I have to come back again each time this stupid blockage hits that what I am doing here is writing, writing because I must, because I have to, because life goes better when I do, so I can learn from the past me, so I can note the many many cycles my silly brain goes in. I must write. And sometimes, just sometimes the odd person passing this way knows they are not alone. That is good enough for me and sod the statistics. The only way I can prove that I’m not about creating a platform for anything is to just get on and write. The only way I can prove that I don’t really care about whether the whole of America jumps up and down with joy because I am a blogger is just to get on and write. The only way I can kill my envy and jealousy of others is to big them up and shout loudly about the people I love and things I love.

There is too much competition in my heart, there is too much darkness and shame, there is too much envy and jealousy and I can’t stand it anymore. I am sick of it. And so I shall write about what and who I love and I will kill these voices in me that want me to be championed, that want me to be adored. I have worth and value that last and will never be taken away. What else could I need?

And so I will write, and so I will over use the words ‘and so’. No-one can stop me. I shall stamp and shout and sing and live and breathe my life all over this space because I want to create and try and fail and note the beauty in this crazy wonderful stupid life. I do not need to have perfect thoughts that everyone agrees with, I’m just noticing the details and watching for the footprints of my Maker and recording them so I LISTEN. So I GET IT. So I DON’T FORGET because I am small and silly and need a written reminder.

You wanna read along, great, you want to come along for the journey, great, you want to read someone a bit less angsty and self obsessed, great. I’ll be here writing about what I love and how I’m making sense of the world today.

Blimey that needed to come out.

And no, you don’t even get a pretty sunset picture. Today it’s just about the words.

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It’s good to be home…

Posted on November 9, 2013 by Kath

chicago viewWell now, where are we?  Sonface had a birthday, there were a lot of posts about that, I’m sure you’ll be relieved that the random witterings about my child and over-thinking thoughts about being a Mum are slowing down for now.  We went to Chicago and pretty much all this week we’ve been recovering from that most joyous of things, jet-lag. We had a fantastic time in Chicago, hanging out with our American family.  It was great to soak up some sonface love, enjoy some good food, drink fine wine, do some sightseeing, have a statutory grumpy day in the rain, delight in the marriage of Meredith and Warren and cope with sonface on two cross Atlantic flights. All in all a fantastic trip.

It is good to be home though.  It’s good to know where our roots are and to get back into the rhythms of life here on the South Coast. It is good to be reminded of who we are in this place, this time.  It has been good to have a Saturday pottering around our flat, in our city and out on the downs this afternoon.

Every Saturday and Sunday afternoon when I was a child we would head out to the countryside for a walk.  I loved the regular rhythm of it, the chats with my dad and the rest of my family. It helped my teenage angst to head out into the natural world for a bit.

This afternoon we headed out for a stamp around some woodland near us. It was gratifying to see families out for similar walks and to participate in our own traditions slowly being formed.

Along the way I noticed it was November. The sky held a pale sun weakly pushing through the clouds, mist lay over the tops of the downs like a blanket and the grass was a greyish green. The trees held dampness from the earlier downpours in the day and the fallen leaves squelched under our feet.

parkLate autumn is here. My skin was refreshingly cold and now I’m back home in the warm the cosy feeling is stronger with the benefit of such contrasts.

For some reason I’ve been slow to see the changing seasons this year, I always love the shift from summer to Autumn but I almost lost it this time around. Maybe it’s been too mild, maybe I’ve been too occupied in the day to day survival. Whatever the reasons, tonight I smelt woodsmoke in the air as we drove back through the fading day and it made me glad. Tonight we have a wonderful mix of root veg cooking with chicken, tomatoes and Moroccan spices in the oven. The smell is immense. The flat is warm, the curtains are drawn and my face has the glow of being out in the fresh air.

I love November autumn days and I don’t want to pass that by in mere survival. I love the contrast of light in the darkness, the hum of the heating in the background, the deep red of our curtains, the crisp sunny mornings, the damp dark afternoons, the swirling mists. I want to notice these times.  In the years to come I want to be attentive to these moments, I want to help my family love and embrace these rhythms and I want to draw us deeper to the one who invented them.

Hello changing seasons. Hello home. I love you.

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Dear Sonface…

Posted on October 27, 2013 by Kath

IMG_2026Dear sonface.

So, a whole year of you. You’ve gone from being a wide eyed bundle of need to a small boy tottering around the place. From a cute faced baby to a giggling, cuddling funny little boy. We love you.

It hasn’t been the easiest year, sleep is one of those things that has always eluded you greatly and we’ve had to help you through that. We’ve tried to do that patiently and carefully seeking to help you know you are safe and loved. We know life is a bit confusing for you most of the time and you don’t really understand much. We’ve not done that well all the time and we’re sorry for that. We always want you to feel safe and secure in this world and we love that we have a God, a Father who teaches us how to love you in this way.

He’s a brilliant Dad who has held our hands as we’ve tried to learn how to be your parents. We hope you’ll know him too one day.

We’ve had so much fun with you this year, it hasn’t all been hard (your Daddy would have probably liked me to have pointed that out sooner). We really enjoy you, we delight in all the things you’ve learnt this year – where your hands and feet are, how to cuddle, how to laugh and clap your hands, your crazy dance moves and your endless curiosity. Never still for long it’s always hilarious and wonderful to watch you explore this world.

You haven’t completed our empty lives, we don’t think you are the answer to all our problems but you have taught us of sacrifice, of love and what wonder, pain, cost, joy and more is involved in bringing you small people into this mad world.

We are a bit crackers about you, we giggle about your craziness when you are fast asleep in the next room. You have, and forgive the cheesy saying, stolen our hearts and made us more soppy than we already were. We hope you will always know and be secure in our love as we journey through this life together.

We haven’t been perfect parents, we’ve messed up and got things wrong lots. That’s why we are glad you have a perfect parent who loves you even more than we do. He teaches us how to love you and we’ve learnt so much of how he loves us this year. We long that you would know him one day. He’s brilliant and knows how to not get frustrated with grumpy cries – I’d get in with him if I were you.

Looking forward to all this next year will bring.

All our love

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More thoughts…

Posted on October 26, 2013 by Kath

IMG_2094Tomorrow our small squirmy son becomes a year old. He’s survived a year in this crazy world and more importantly we’ve survived a year looking after him. It’s been a year where I have learnt more and more about myself and our God.

I’ve discovered some of the meaning of perseverance and sacrifice in ways I have never before. Part of me has died in this last year and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I can no longer kid myself that life is all about me or all about husbandface. Suddenly we have a clear small teacher that we aren’t the centre of the universe. Other things in life keep on teaching us all this in different ways depending on our circumstances but he’s been our teacher this year.

As I’ve dragged myself out of bed time and time again to soothe him and help him get back to sleep (why O why don’t they come with sleep buttons?) I’ve learnt that I’m not very compassionate and gracious. I’ve discovered new levels of anger and frustration as my desires have been killed and my lack of control has been exposed.

In short I’ve learnt more of my sin. I’ve raged against God and ignored him at times because he doesn’t seem to answer my cries for sleep. Turns out he had better plans on offer. I’ve come to the end of myself many times and yet he has patiently picked me up off the floor and given me energy to keep on doing this day after day, night after night. Despite my resentful attitude and despair he has been at work.

He’s used this year to teach me that he is the wise gracious compassionate parent. God has been teaching me of his endless patience with us as he carries on loving us through our pride, stubbornness, grumpiness and constant thought that we know best.

The God of all the universe, the wild untameable one who caused the angels to shout for joy, the wise one who pours out love on weak silly humans in the face of their small weird ways has been holding onto us this year. The one who knitted sonface in my womb, who brought him into the world safely, has kept us and enabled us to keep on trying to imitate his love as we care for our son.

We are glad of another year of his faithfulness and perseverance with us. We are grateful that he has helped us look after our boy and we look to the future with hope because the day has always followed the night and one day we will live our glorious forever day with no more darkness.

Here’s to many more years of sonface and a God who works so brilliantly in our lives.

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