Recently I had reason to ask Mum for the date of my baptism. The conversation went something along these lines:
"Can you remember the date of my baptism?"
"Oh er...sometime in August 1980...I think. You were born on 6 July 1980 in Manygates hospital and..."
"yes Mum I know that bit"
"I know I am just trying to work it out...So... You were born on..." etc etc
Imagine my surprise when the same vague parent arrived for Christmas, not only had she remembered the date but also passed into my possession a copy of the original order of service, in which I am mentioned by name twice.
I sat down and read the typewritten order of service cover to cover, and I am not ashamed to say I shed a tear or two of joy. Three of my favourite hymns, particularly Be Thou My Vision, which I chose 22 years later for our wedding.
At the end of the service sheet is typed:
"Please take this service sheet home with you. Please study the Baptismal service and remember that YOU are pledged to the same promises for the whole of your life. It applies to us all.....
Christ's soldiers and servants to the end of our life. Let us never forget our duties of PRIVATE PRAYER, PUBLIC WORSHIP, EXAMPLE, AND WITNESS. Let us ever seek to grow in our knowledge and love of God and the Faith and in support for His Church.
God always keeps his promises. We must keep ours.
Renew Your Church, O Lord, beginning with me!"
Amen.
For those even vaguely interested: 24 August 1980 Altofts Parish Church.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Expecting a King
I have spent some time reflecting on St. Mary, today. I am currently on a journey of discovery with God, I am currently both elated and terrified by all the possibilities ahead and so it is quite right that Mary springs to mind.
The Mary, porcelain skinned meek and mild doll of the images, for whom the image in my head is quite different.
I see a girl, barely a woman, of bravery none can measure and strength none can know. I see a girl of faith and trust. A girl that God has lifted from her lowliness, and who carried in her womb the very nature of God's redemption of the world.
Wow!
The Mary, porcelain skinned meek and mild doll of the images, for whom the image in my head is quite different.
I see a girl, barely a woman, of bravery none can measure and strength none can know. I see a girl of faith and trust. A girl that God has lifted from her lowliness, and who carried in her womb the very nature of God's redemption of the world.
Wow!
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Four Years Ago
4 years ago today our lives changed.
4 years ago to so did the lives of another family, and another.
4 years ago my Little Bear came into contact with his 3rd family, Us.
4 years ago today my house filled with toys and nappies and baby gear and my heart filled with love.
Little Bear, then and now, cute toddler or complicated little boy, for better and for worse, I will love you.
Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone but still, miraculously my own.
4 years ago to so did the lives of another family, and another.
4 years ago my Little Bear came into contact with his 3rd family, Us.
4 years ago today my house filled with toys and nappies and baby gear and my heart filled with love.
Little Bear, then and now, cute toddler or complicated little boy, for better and for worse, I will love you.
Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone but still, miraculously my own.
Monday, 7 November 2011
We will remember them
I watched Gareth Malone's latest choir tonight. I love choral music and I have loved his previous choirs but this one touched me, in a different and altogether appropriate way.
It's the season of remembrance, and in a way the All Souls remembrance is (for me personally) the easiest, or should that be the simplest of them all.
It's relatively straightforward to remember and pay tribute publicly to those whom one has known personally, one knows the backstory.
On Remembrance Day we give thanks for the lives and the sacrificial nature of the deaths of those I personally have had no human contact with .
Tonight, on Gareth Malone's programme I had that contact. I saw wives and partners who were left to wonder, left waiting for the knock at the door which would rip apart their very world. I shed many tears during the programme.
Afterwards, quietly I remembered those who were not there. I prayed fervently for those widowed and in particular remembered those who had been widowed during the World Wars, and conflicts since.
Tonight I realised that before Gareth Malone was a happy thought for his parents there had been military wives receiving news of the fallen.
We will remember them.
It's the season of remembrance, and in a way the All Souls remembrance is (for me personally) the easiest, or should that be the simplest of them all.
It's relatively straightforward to remember and pay tribute publicly to those whom one has known personally, one knows the backstory.
On Remembrance Day we give thanks for the lives and the sacrificial nature of the deaths of those I personally have had no human contact with .
Tonight, on Gareth Malone's programme I had that contact. I saw wives and partners who were left to wonder, left waiting for the knock at the door which would rip apart their very world. I shed many tears during the programme.
Afterwards, quietly I remembered those who were not there. I prayed fervently for those widowed and in particular remembered those who had been widowed during the World Wars, and conflicts since.
Tonight I realised that before Gareth Malone was a happy thought for his parents there had been military wives receiving news of the fallen.
We will remember them.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Without adoption...
~ I would be free from little bits of plastic.
~ I would spend a lot more on toys and clothes for me.
~ I would have two families to understand, the one I was born into and the one into which I married.
~ I would have less discussions about childhood special needs, attachment, trauma and loss.
~ I would have experienced less judgement about children and their behaviour.
~ I would be child-less. Not child-free in my case but child-less.
With adoption...
~ I continue to experience new and exciting toys and games without embarrassment.
~ I get to buy cool miniture clothes and marvel at the speed a child can grow at the same time.
~ I am aware of my connection through my son, to another family. Our ties are broader and have more depth. I ask questions about him in the light of them.
~ I am aware of the obstacles, the children who are different. Not odd, not wonky, not weird, just different. I accept my son's complexities and work with them. I feel empathy towards other parents with different children.
~ My shoulders are broader, I take criticism less personally, and I have become a tiger protector for my son. I am his strongest, loudest and most persistant advocate.
~ I have a person in my life who offers me so much joy, love and appreciation, alongside a healthy (for us) dose of defiant, obstinate behaviour.
~ I am a Mum, not super Mum, wonder Mum, uber Mum or yummy Mum - just Mummy.
In the wonderful words of Todd Parr:
"We belong together because you needed a home and we had one to share. Now we are a family"
National Adoption Week 2011
~ I would spend a lot more on toys and clothes for me.
~ I would have two families to understand, the one I was born into and the one into which I married.
~ I would have less discussions about childhood special needs, attachment, trauma and loss.
~ I would have experienced less judgement about children and their behaviour.
~ I would be child-less. Not child-free in my case but child-less.
With adoption...
~ I continue to experience new and exciting toys and games without embarrassment.
~ I get to buy cool miniture clothes and marvel at the speed a child can grow at the same time.
~ I am aware of my connection through my son, to another family. Our ties are broader and have more depth. I ask questions about him in the light of them.
~ I am aware of the obstacles, the children who are different. Not odd, not wonky, not weird, just different. I accept my son's complexities and work with them. I feel empathy towards other parents with different children.
~ My shoulders are broader, I take criticism less personally, and I have become a tiger protector for my son. I am his strongest, loudest and most persistant advocate.
~ I have a person in my life who offers me so much joy, love and appreciation, alongside a healthy (for us) dose of defiant, obstinate behaviour.
~ I am a Mum, not super Mum, wonder Mum, uber Mum or yummy Mum - just Mummy.
In the wonderful words of Todd Parr:
"We belong together because you needed a home and we had one to share. Now we are a family"
National Adoption Week 2011
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Lost and Found
Today I have been reminded of how much those of us who love pets, really do love them.
Don't misunderstand me. I have dogs and rats and a solitary goldfish and I have affection for all of them to varying degrees but it is not a humanising affection at all. I love them for what they are and how they make me feel.
Today my 6 month old puppy Bobby had two "Firsts". He has not earned a degree in dogness - I refer more milestones of puppyhood. Bobby has reached that adolescent dog stage marked physically by cocking his leg against a tree for the first time today. He also got temporarily lost on a walk. One of these milestones made me think "Aww he's growing up", the other brought me to the verge of tears.
Whilst on a walk with 2 adult human friends, one human in a pushchair and one extra hound, Bobby took it upon himself to get lost. I suspect he chased off after Monty couldn't catch up and at the same time realised he had no idea where he was. Monty re-appeared without Bobby. Then a panic ensued. Whilst I stood frozen to the spot with every worse case scenario rushing through my head (stolen, lost for ever, abducted by aliens etc etc) and being comforted by my dear friend. My other dear friend went on a dog hunt and eventually found a very sensible Bobby had returned to the car. Bobby was reunited with a frantic me, and by this time an equally frantic Monty, and we continued our walk without incident.
The possibility that I had lost my dog filled me with such sadness that I bit back tears. The anguish I felt at having explain to Little Bear that he was no longer here took over from that, and the blessed relief to see his little self come skipping back up the path to meet me was indescribable.
I return home to find the sad news from David that their cat has died, http://vernacularcurate.blogspot.com/2011/10/goodbye-little-mate.html
and after a quick prayer to thank God for all Stimpy brought to the Cloakes and Cloakettes, and for the loving home Stimpy enjoyed on earth. I gave my dogs a cuddle...and a sharp warning to Bobby never to run off like that again!
I don't think most of us animal lovers make our pets more human. I think the cat, dog, rat, rabbit, hamster, make US more human.
RIP Stimpy
Don't misunderstand me. I have dogs and rats and a solitary goldfish and I have affection for all of them to varying degrees but it is not a humanising affection at all. I love them for what they are and how they make me feel.
Today my 6 month old puppy Bobby had two "Firsts". He has not earned a degree in dogness - I refer more milestones of puppyhood. Bobby has reached that adolescent dog stage marked physically by cocking his leg against a tree for the first time today. He also got temporarily lost on a walk. One of these milestones made me think "Aww he's growing up", the other brought me to the verge of tears.
Whilst on a walk with 2 adult human friends, one human in a pushchair and one extra hound, Bobby took it upon himself to get lost. I suspect he chased off after Monty couldn't catch up and at the same time realised he had no idea where he was. Monty re-appeared without Bobby. Then a panic ensued. Whilst I stood frozen to the spot with every worse case scenario rushing through my head (stolen, lost for ever, abducted by aliens etc etc) and being comforted by my dear friend. My other dear friend went on a dog hunt and eventually found a very sensible Bobby had returned to the car. Bobby was reunited with a frantic me, and by this time an equally frantic Monty, and we continued our walk without incident.
The possibility that I had lost my dog filled me with such sadness that I bit back tears. The anguish I felt at having explain to Little Bear that he was no longer here took over from that, and the blessed relief to see his little self come skipping back up the path to meet me was indescribable.
I return home to find the sad news from David that their cat has died, http://vernacularcurate.blogspot.com/2011/10/goodbye-little-mate.html
and after a quick prayer to thank God for all Stimpy brought to the Cloakes and Cloakettes, and for the loving home Stimpy enjoyed on earth. I gave my dogs a cuddle...and a sharp warning to Bobby never to run off like that again!
I don't think most of us animal lovers make our pets more human. I think the cat, dog, rat, rabbit, hamster, make US more human.
RIP Stimpy
Saturday, 17 September 2011
What do you hide?
I am reading a novel at the moment which is giving me pause for thought in many ways as it is written using the inner monologue. It's fascinating, shocking and sometimes unsettling to read these fictional characters innermost thoughts.
It is also a little frustrating to read because I can see how what they are thinking and what they are saying are so very different at times. This works in some ways as they do the sensible thing of speaking once their brain is engaged, and fails when they misjudge the other person's response and keep silent when they should speak out. All very human indeed.
I then started reflecting on the idea of the inner monologue. If my inner monologue was recorded for all to read, how would I feel?
I once swore as a child. Take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the words I uttered at a mere 14 years old in the presence of my God-mother. If you think you will be able to cope read on, for I said:
"Oh Sugar!"
The response to this deeply disturbing utterance was:
"Watch your language! I know what you were thinking."
My Godmother was probably right, I can't remember, but there is a shorter word being with S I tend to favour in adulthood. What was supprising for me was the suggestion that I needed to be admonished for even thinking a bad word let alone saying it.
That utterance is certainly not all that I would wish to keep to myself, I am sure that I have thought far more shameful things in my 31 years on this earth. I have certainly said a lot worse.
It is good to be reminded of my inner self, the thoughts that pass through my head but are never aired. I find when I come to repentance, it is the things that are left unsaid that are larger in number. Thanks be to God for forgiveness.
For I may not have my inner monologue written in a bestselling novel for the world to read but far more importantly in the words of Psalm 69:5
O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from thee.
It is also a little frustrating to read because I can see how what they are thinking and what they are saying are so very different at times. This works in some ways as they do the sensible thing of speaking once their brain is engaged, and fails when they misjudge the other person's response and keep silent when they should speak out. All very human indeed.
I then started reflecting on the idea of the inner monologue. If my inner monologue was recorded for all to read, how would I feel?
I once swore as a child. Take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the words I uttered at a mere 14 years old in the presence of my God-mother. If you think you will be able to cope read on, for I said:
"Oh Sugar!"
The response to this deeply disturbing utterance was:
"Watch your language! I know what you were thinking."
My Godmother was probably right, I can't remember, but there is a shorter word being with S I tend to favour in adulthood. What was supprising for me was the suggestion that I needed to be admonished for even thinking a bad word let alone saying it.
That utterance is certainly not all that I would wish to keep to myself, I am sure that I have thought far more shameful things in my 31 years on this earth. I have certainly said a lot worse.
It is good to be reminded of my inner self, the thoughts that pass through my head but are never aired. I find when I come to repentance, it is the things that are left unsaid that are larger in number. Thanks be to God for forgiveness.
For I may not have my inner monologue written in a bestselling novel for the world to read but far more importantly in the words of Psalm 69:5
O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from thee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)