Do not worry.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6: 34

I don't know about you but for a natural born worrier like me, this is a very comforting verse.

When I was in senior school I had a very scary maths teacher. The scariest of scary kids were a little nervous of her, so it is unsurprising that an overgrown mouse like me would be nervous. Although my mathematics ability was negligible (and still is), I was placed in the top maths group in Year 11 which Mrs Scary, from Scary-land taught.

Each night before a maths lesson, after I had spent the evening struggling with the homework, I would toss and turn in my bed worrying about facing Mrs Scary the following day. I finally realised one night that tomorrow would come whatever I did and thought up a mantra. "In my bed, under my duvet, she can't get me here." Which I would repeat until I feel asleep.

The lesson, would nearly always go better than I thought. Normally because I could 'borrow' the homework in morning break from some sympathetic (and mathematically gifted) friends. However the proof of all this 'borrowing' came in GCSE results. I got a D. Then to add insult to injury, Mrs Scary was my teacher up until I retook the exam the following summer and achieved my longed for C grade.

There is very little point worrying about things that are beyond our control. It doesn't mean it is easy to stop worrying about them, that is the frailty of our human nature but as long as we retain some perspective. Mrs Scary, bashed my confidence, made me too afraid to seek help when I was struggling but ultimately she helped me achieve my Maths C grade, not least because I was damn sure I would not spend any more time in her classes!

When kids have cameras...

A dear friend of mine came here with her 4 lovely children on Tuesday. They were all playing with my son's Kidizoom camera. I have just sorted through the photos and come across some corkers but because I love the woman in question I shall share some favourites here rather than on facebook:

A rare and deeply attractive picture of me to start!

My friend tried to hide...

 ...and then this happened when they caught her!

 And finally her youngest son (who will be officially my God-son tomorrow if I get away with this) didn't seem impressed:

Mementos, Memories, and Memorials,

In between playing with lego, playdough and dinosaurs, I have been sorting through drawers and cupboards. As you are already no doubt aware, tidiness is not my strong point. So therefore in this house there are lots of drawers and cupboards filled with all manner of unclassified paperwork, bit of broken toy for fixing, odd crayons, and buttons etc.

The tidying all goes well until I come across something which for happy or sad reasons makes me stop in my tracks, sit down, and peruse it. By the time I am back on track, I have usually forgotten where I have got to, and the whole cycle starts again.

This has happened twice so far this week. The first occasion was Sunday night, when i was searching through my bedside cabinet for a vital piece of paperwork (not the most logical place to keep it and it has now been moved!). I found all my Dad's licences from the churches to which he served during his ministry. I knew I had them somewhere, certain things came into my possession after Dad died because we as a family couldn't bear to throw them away. I sat down and read through them one after the other, reminiscing about the moves, the licensing service, who had been staying with us at the time, how young I was etc etc. There were a couple of service booklets in the pile including the service to celebrate Dad's 25th Anniversary of Ordination, in later service books as in this one, one hymn was always a part of each service. The great Wesley number "And can it be". It was always deeply moving for us all as a family, the verse which concludes "My chains fell off my heart was free, I rose went forth and followed thee" spoke clearly to Dad. They were an opportunity to leave behind the old, and move into new and exciting ministerial experiences, following God's call and were therefore a rousing end to a final service in a parish or a declaration of Dad's commitment to following Christ into his new parish at the licensing service.

When Dad died there was no question of the hymns for his Requiem. Thine be the Glory, Sweet Sacrament Divine, and And Can it Be. This time the verse to note was the last one:

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in him, is mine;
alive in him, my living Head,
and clothed in righteousness divine,
bold I approach th' eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ my own.
Bold I approach th' eternal throne,
and claim the crown, through Christ my own.

The wonderful Eulogy given by a dear friend of my parents, included a piece from the book Dad had been writing at the time of his death.

When my father died in 1973, I selected the memorial cards and chose the verse beginning 'I am the Resurrection and the life...' I did not pick this verse in a sentimental comforting way: I knew my father was with the Lord. I selected it as a statement of belief for both of us. Each of us shares in Jesus' resurrection in two ways - firstly in a sacramental way through Baptism and the Eucharist and secondly through the free action of ours which welcomes God's graciousness. We are spurred on and energised by God's Spirit towards the final fulfilment. However broken and hurt we may be God's healing is available for us, first in this world and ultimately in the next. 

On this occasion the find was a happy one, and I am grateful for my lack of order because it gives me the chance to stumble upon these memories in a natural and organic kind of way. This last week a dear friend died suddenly and left his wife of 50 years bereft, shocked and overwhelmed with grief. So this exercise, as well as drawing my mind back to my dear Dad has also given me the opportunity to stop and pray, for the soul of this departed friend and for God's comfort for his wife and family in their grief. Also to pray for all who grieve for those they love but see no longer in this life.

Faithful God,
Lord of all creation,
You desire that nothing redeemed by your Son
Will ever be lost,
Comfort those who grieve,
Grant eternal rest to the faithful departed,
May they rest in peace.
Amen

Friends Forever?

We had some playground politics on Friday. Little Bear was the only child in his class not to receive an invitation to a birthday party.

There are lots of reasons why this was a fairly reasonable thing to do. This is a child Little Bear has hurt in the past, Little Bear has a reputation for being "difficult", and last and by no means least the child concerned obviously does not like Little Bear. However if the parent only knew how much not being invited would upset Little Bear then maybe she would have had a word with me so that I could work out a way to tell him he couldn't go rather than just being ostracised as she made her way down the line in the playground giving out invites. (Note: Little Bear wouldn't cope with a kid's party, I would hate it as I have only one playground buddy, and we would make our excuses anyway - but being asked would mean a lot.)

Later that day Little Bear lost it with the same boy. (Teachers were not aware of the party issue) He very nearly bit him but resisted at the last minute, apologised, said he knew he shouldn't do it and burst into tears. This is major progress for Little Bear who has a fairly basic grasp of his own emotions and very limited impulse control (amongst other problems) and his teacher's recognised this with a special achievement sticker.

At home LB started discussing birthday parties all of a sudden (he would like a dinosaur party and we would be guests), so I casually brought up the subject of birthdays in his class. He told me about this little boy's birthday but said "He said I'm not his friend". Ah I thought to myself, that's why you tried to bite him.

Can I just point out at this point that there is NO excuse for biting or indeed hurting another in any way, and LB is fully aware of this, however for him it is a sign of extreme emotional stress. "I don't know how to handle this, I can't cope!" and then an inappropriate response follows. He doesn't intend to hurt but it doesn't change the fact that it does still bloody well hurt (I am not sure that I would be able to manage with a friend who bit me"!

So it got me thinking, how does one explain friendship to a 4yr old who has emotional delay and suspected ASD? How does one explain friendship to a 4yr old at all? How does one explain friendship to an adult?

I am a fairly straightforward person. I therefore only have two types of friend. I have lots of people with whom I am friendly, I care for them, and they are remembered in my prayers and there are lots of these people. Then there is one other group to whom I shall dedicate this post,  the ones who fit the following criteria:

• We may have known each other for many years, it may just be months but we are confidants for each other.
• We may speak daily, weekly, monthly, or annually but when we do meet our relationship is just the same as it was the last time we were together.
• We know each other so well that we can tell how the other is feeling without being explicitly told, and then we can allow momentary irritation to wash over us, safe in the knowledge that there was no hurt meant.
• We appreciate every inch of each others personalities and embrace them - even the annoying bits.
• No matter where we are, near or far, we are in each other's thoughts and prayers.

That's explained it for me but it's taken 30 years on this earth to work it out - my 4 year old has got a while to go yet.

Why I love my Dog

Darling Monty dog is gorgeous and soft, cuddly and cute, and a real joy to have as a part of our lives. There is nothing more endearing than watching Little Bear kiss us goodbye as we go off to walk Monty, and then bending down to give Monty a cuddle and kissing the top of his head. Monty likes lie across the Curate on the sofa in the evenings and loves nothing more than a vigourous tummy rub, and the welcome we receive when we come back home, whether we have been out for the day or 10 minutes is a sight to behold.

Life with a doodle is never a dull one and occasionally a touch frustrating. He is attracted to mud and soaks it up like a sponge, then once dry he deposits it all over the house. Sometimes when he comes in from a walk and lies down on his bed for an hour or so, when he gets up there is a Monty shaped shadow on the bed/floor like a chalk drawing at a murder scene!

He is an accomplished thief. Today he has been caught (just in the nick of time) with the pods from the egg poacher in his jaws. Any little loose toys lying around get collected in his mouth, they are normally chewed and spat out again, although we have had a marble pass all the way through, yuck! (Just in case you were wondering, we did NOT keep the marble)

He is convinced he is part feline and chases birds in the garden. He went through a phase of chasing ducks near the pond - and nearly caught one recently. Yikes!

We love him anyway, unconditionally, as he is. After all it is only our lack of prowess at training that has created his little behaviour quirks, and as dogs go he is a fairly tame example! That's life with a dog though, the absolution devotion, to you, to food and to muddy puddles - and we wouldn't have it any other way.

Pants in the Pond

There was a discussion on Twitter today centred around how one mum would sort out her children's accumulated clutter. The consensus was that the best way to sort it was to put it all in black bags (adult clutter included) and charge a 1p tithe to release it to its owner. A very good idea, and one that we could do with using in this house from time to time (I would owe a lot of money)!

This discussion amused me, particularly as from the ages of 5 - 21 I was possibly the least tidy person that God lovingly created! I have gradually improved but that is mainly thanks to the influence of a certain Curate of my acquaintance whose own tidiness borders on excessive (in my humble opinion). However during the years above I lived with my parents and then in various student digs where my untidiness knew no bounds!

One particular incident from adolescence is worth sharing (although those of you with teenagers should look away now in case you are moved to follow my Mum's example).

I had gone for tea at a friend's house a couple of streets away, and I received a phone call. It went like this:

Me: "Hello Mum, what's up?"
Mum: "Oh nothing, I am fine now, but you need to come home immediately!" Said in an calm and slightly scary voice.
Me: "What have I done?"
Mum: "Come home now!"

I raced all the way home, my heart beating ninety to the dozen to discover my fate. I had no idea what i could possibly have done to be in trouble but I still felt guilty. When I arrived home, Mum was still calm and she said "I was appalled by the state of your room today and so in a fit of anger I have thrown all the things that shouldn't be on the floor out of your bedroom window and you need to go into the garden and collect them. Now!"

I scuttled off into the garden to retrieve random items of makeup, magazines, soft toys, and most embarrassingly discarded items of dirty laundry. Most of the laundry (mainly pants to my shame and disgust) had already had a pre-wash cycle as my window was directly above the garden pond!

When I came back in and apologised for my room and the mess and assured Mum I would try harder in future, she accepted my apology and we continued our evening in peace. However when I went to bed that night I discovered that she hadn't finished my 'unusual' punishment. As I got into bed I squealed at a strange noise - Mum had filled my duvet cover with my discarded sweet wrappers! Needless to say they went in the bin (where they should have been in the first place) immediately.

So teenagers, if you are being berated for the state of your room, or not taking your washing to the laundry bin, just remember it could be far far worse

Dog Walking Part 2

"Squirrel"

"I love bounding!"

"Can I jump in? Oh pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!?"

Doodles are made for mud!

Monty was 'ere!



"Come on, Keep up!"