We have hope.

A long winded introduction as to why this post is only appearing now: 

When I was younger, I'd go on a camp in the summer or at Easter and it would be awesome, then I would come home and fall in to a horrid depression. We'd call it post-camp blues but I knew I felt it more intensely than others. I never quite knew what to do to cope through this time. No-one wanted to talk about camp after it was done. Apparently it's different when you go on mission. People want to talk about a mission trip for a while and it isn't until people stop asking that the struggle sets in. 

This past week hasn't been easy. My mental health is rapidly falling off the cliff that I walk along the edge of on a regular basis. So maybe, just maybe, this might help me cling on a bit and remind me of the hope I learnt of while away. 

End of disclaimer ;)

Lisieux

The first week in Normandy was hard, like insanely hard. My anxiety was at an all-time high despite taking medication. It was scary. I could not shake this anxiety and it is my overriding memory of the whole week. There were moments of joy: hanging out with the team every night, pastries for breakfast, going to see the city, praying for the city at 7.30am in front of the basilica (watching the sun rise, seeing the beautiful morning sky, sharing communion), the women's breakfast, getting really powerful words spoken to me that started a change, helping to set up a 24/7 prayer room and praying in it, sharing a room with all the girls, giving out Bibles on a university campus in Caen. Plenty of amazing things and yet, I remember so clearly the weight of oppression I felt the entire week. 

What did I learn from that week though? Perseverance. I begged most nights to be allowed to go home, to just not have to do the things I'd been asked to do, to just give up. And yet, I didn't leave. I didn't quite do everything as planned, but I stayed. That was my biggest achievement. Not giving up. When things get hard I run in the opposite direction, I have no desire to stay and see if things get better; I have no control over the outcome so it's safer to run because I know what happens then. But I stayed. More than anything, I learnt how much others love me, and that God puts me in places for a reason. If I'd not gone, I would never have been told that a tunnel ends eventually, that God wants to turn me around significantly, that I shouldn't just hear of God's provision for others but believe it for myself too. If I'd have left, I wouldn't have heard a testimony that's changed my perspective so significantly. I wouldn't have gone to Paris and I wouldn't have gone to Madrid. Hold on, pain ends. 

Paris

Paris was 100% about being brave in a way I never imagined. I never thought a city could trigger memories from a different city because of an association. I never thought that I'd tell anyone that part of my story (it was a silly teenage mistake, you see) or that it'd be relevant in my life any more. But it was and I had to talk. 

I love Paris- the language, atmosphere, places to see. I spent time in my European happy place (the steps in front of the Sacre Coeur if you're wondering) and I spent time rocking back and forth in a corner of a church in absolute fear. But I was brave. I wouldn't have got to my happy place if I hadn't fought the thoughts. I wouldn't have made beautiful new memories if I hadn't told anyone why it was so flipping hard for me to be in that city. I learnt the importance of being surrounded by people you can trust that love you no matter what your mental state. I learnt the value of being hugged tight like nothing else exists. I remembered the need to persevere even when your world feels like it's falling apart because you just might be surprised. 

Madrid

And after many, many hours in the airport we arrived in Madrid. I'm not sure I'm about to do this justice, but I will try. My life has been forever changed by spending 6 days in Betel. The women we stayed with welcomed us with open arms (quite literally) and loved us from the minute they met us. Nothing was too much trouble for them. The language barrier didn't matter, we're all part of God's family and that's what mattered most. 

I spent several days working in the kitchen. It was comforting, familiar. I'm thankful for the opportunity to do something that was safe because it meant the "ohmygosh I speak no Spanish" was infinitely less scary. I got to hear the stories of the 2 women I worked with (yay for broken English!) and I shared a little bit of mine. On the 2nd full day we got to go out with the evangelism team to the slum. It was weird. I put up my mental wall and just accepted it. I had to protect others. I don't think I'll ever be able to totally recall what I saw that day- people desperate for drugs that they couldn't care who was watching when they injected, people asking to buy us girls as slaves, a guy who said he was too bad for God, another who was completely blind to where this habit would lead him. We were surrounded by darkness, and yet, for me not one bit of what I saw surprised me. What actually overwhelmed me was just how much God had redeemed those at Betel; how much love He's shown them and brought them out from utter destruction to a much more amazing way of life. And they praise God for it. Continually. I'll admit I don't believe that God can ever do that much in my life- how could he? I'm such an average person, why make me in to something better? Well that was my thought process before Betel anyway. 

As the week went on I got to know one of the women more. By Saturday it made sense to share my testimony completely with her. The wisdom with which she spoke in to my life after that, the things that she shared to encourage me. I was taken aback. This woman who had known me less than a week knew exactly what I needed to hear. Only God could have told her to say some of those things. It was an amazing blessing to be able to have that conversation with her. I'd led the devotional time a couple of days previously on Isaiah 43:1-7 and she knew how much I needed to hear what I'd said to them for myself. She even said to me that in a few years time I'll make an amazing nurse again, that she can see me doing that. For the first time since 2012 I didn't recoil at this suggestion. That's big. 

On the final morning the house leader asked to speak to me. She sat me down and told me her testimony. I am the only one of the group to have heard it and that will forever be a privilege. She told me she wanted to get close to me at the start of the week but I built a wall and wouldn't budge. I needed to hear her story, God made it happen. I truly am overwhelmed by God's healing power, His desire to redeem, His overflowing love for anyone who knows him. That I may not have been addicted to drugs, but I have been addicted to other things, I have looked for my identity and value in the world, I have neglected God while searching for something to fill the emptiness I've felt.  

The mission trip gave me hope like I've never had before. A very real idea of hope. I don't need to be fixed by the time I turned 25. I haven't missed my chance. I am battling a different addiction but one that I can still be healed from. It doesn't have to be instant. I've learnt the power of telling my story. That it can be an encouragement even before it has reached a conclusion. That I am a work in progress, but it's God doing the work. I don't need to be fixed before I go to Him. And that He is the solid foundation on which I need to stand. I can't take good care of others until I've taken care of myself. But there is always more of God to help me, I'm never doing this on my own strength. I've seen things I never thought I'd see, I've heard stories I never imagined I'd hear and because of this I have hope. There are better things to come for everyone reading this, and for myself. 

Don't just read stories of hope, believe it is possible for yourself.

We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.

Hebrews 6:19-20

Intern Mission

I have so many things I want to say about our mission trip. I feel like the best way to do this is with one blog talking about what we did and then a couple about what I learnt. Because while we all did the same things, everyone got something different out of it. It wouldn't be fair to add my own things in to an overall mission trip post.

So here it goes.

Lisieux

We left Oxford on a very sunny Tuesday morning. The drive to Folkestone was relatively uneventful. Just some silly comments like "are we in Normandy?" and "this smells pink!" After a slight "we're probably too big to fit under this barrier" drama and a "is that France?" moment we boarded the Eurotunnel.

In standard tourist fashion the first thing we did on arrival in France was go to McDonald's...it seems to be a rule that when you enter a new country you must find an American chain and enter immediately? Ah well, it was our opportunity to catch up with the other car and make sure everyone was ok still. And so began our adventure to Lisieux.

Arriving in Lisieux early evening, we were greeted by our mission partners, Sena and Jane, and then served dinner with some members of the church. The week then becomes a bit of a blur of hard work, tears (mostly on my part!), laughter and pastries/bread. We met the vicar of the church, worked a bit in the church cafe (running children's activities) and attended church services. We spent a day in Caen- seeing important places in Normandy history and then gave out New Testaments with the Gideons at various university campuses- they don't often allow non-Gideons to do this so it was a good experience for all of us (but definitely not a skill of mine!).  A couple of us set up a 24/7 prayer space which was just so amazing in so many ways and a joy to watch come together. Two of the interns preached at key services. It was a pleasure to see them minister so powerfully. The girls attended the women's breakfast which was just wonderful. We got up at stupid o'clock on Easter Sunday to go and pray for the city at the basilica- for me this was a massive highlight. Sunrise and prayer and a pretty place? Winning!

Our free time was overflowing with good conversation, good food, sneaky explorations of town, amusing coffee shops, laughter and puppets. The building was constantly filled with joy, that's undeniable.

Paris

Stage 2 of our mission took us to Paris. In case you've never experienced French public transport on a bank holiday, you're missing nothing. We left Lisieux almost an hour late after they insisted we arrived an hour early to the station. Joy. Arriving in Paris later than planned, we were met by Francois (another mission partner!) and his adorable son. We hopped on the Metro and went straight to the church to be fed lunch! Yay food! And then we had the delight of exploring Paris for the afternoon. Some of us spent time doing tourist things, some of us spent more time exploring side streets and chilling in a cafe. We got back together for the evening and, after dinner, spent some time in prayer and worship in La Résurrection. It was such a powerful time praying for the future of the church and Francois and Gosia. God was very definitely there with us. 

The morning of our second day in Paris was spent doing some more sightseeing. The afternoon was spent trying not to go absolutely crazy in CDG airport- Tom gave up with real answers and resorted to names of dinosaurs to answer questions instead. But we prayed at the gate and suddenly we were boarding the plane and getting a free snack once in the air.

Madrid

And so stage 3 of mission began at a very late hour when we arrived in Madrid airport.

I'd never heard of Betel until we were told that was where we were headed on mission. I'd done a bit of asking around and found some other people who had been there. Betel is a church planting organisation that just so happens to flourish in addiction communities- hence why it is mostly known for its rehabilitation programmes. I don't think I could ever explain it well enough so check out http://betelinternational.org/ for actual information.

From what I gather the guys spent the week doing a bit of evangelism, manual labour, and some things in the shops and played with puppies on the farm. I'd tell you more but I got distracted with pictures of puppies so didn't actually listen to what they did. I can, however, tell you how the girls spent their week.

After arriving the girls house we were presented with dinner- at around midnight. We were incredibly blessed to have two translators (thank God for Maria and Mara!) for our stay so in our dazed and confused state that first night we at least knew sort of what was going on! The next morning was an experience. Woken by the light being switched on at 7am, expected to be at breakfast by 7.30am. You eat breakfast in under 5 minutes, then have 10 minutes to sort yourself out before devotional. Once devotional is done, you get everything ready and get yourself in the vans ready to go to work. I am a morning person but even this was a whirlwind for me! Each day we were sent to their thrift shops or the kitchen or cleaning or the food bank or furniture collection- each girl is given a different task each day. I spent a couple of days in the kitchen (absolute bliss!), a day cleaning and an afternoon in a thrift shop. We had a bit of tourist time on Sunday afternoon- chaotic but good to see a bit of the city!

We had half a day with the evangelism team too. Going out in to the shanty town of Madrid- the heart of the drug addiction and prostitution community. Someone described it as "the waiting room for Hell" and in some ways, yes it is. To be stood there giving out food and hot chocolate, with people buying, selling and taking drugs all around us, and the government giving out clean needles, was an experience I won't forget. While I've not been particularly sheltered from the realities of this world, it still shocked me. I don't think I could ever put in to words really what happened in our time spent there. The conversations that were translated for us, the observations the pastors made, the things each of us saw or were protected from seeing.

We had several church services while there. Getting to hear intern testimonies and Tom preach (while Maria diligently translated) was just great. And because of Maria and Mara, we got to really invest in the women we were staying with- we could hear their stories and share our own. A couple of us lead devotionals, Jemima lead worship and we all spent our final morning devotional with the women praying for them. I can't speak for the other girls, but I know God spoke powerfully through some of the women to me and He was able to do the same through me to some of them too.

We've built relationships we never thought we would in such a short space of time, had our eyes opened to things just a few short hours away, and most importantly we've seen God work in every situation- even ones other deem hopeless. It was hard to say goodbye to everyone at different points in the trip- even Matthew and Kristians who drove us around Normandy for a couple of days. Every goodbye has been different but each filled with love and peace knowing God is still there with each person. We've been pushed out of comfort zones, experienced language barriers, not had very much introvert time, and eaten more food than we could have imagined (no Betel- we do not need to eat a minimum of 4 times a day!). Most importantly, God has been there every step of the way- through the highs and the lows, the tears and the laughter.

I don't actually think I could ever do this trip justice with my words, but I've tried and that will have to do.

God is good.

Courage

Courage is a word I don't often hear these days, and yet these last few days the following quote has been floating around my head.

'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying"I will try again tomorrow"'

Several people this week have mentioned that I have so much courage, and at first I've been very quick to correct them: I don't do anything major that warrants that label. In induction week I used the adjective "brave" to describe myself because others said it, not because I believed it. However this quote keeps reappearing and I'm beginning to realise what people mean. No, I'm not jumping off cliffs, or climbing mountains or putting myself completely out there, but I am getting up every morning, I am getting myself to work every day, I'm not running away when things get difficult, I'm starting to speak about things. While others may see these things as trivial; something they manage without even thinking, these are my mountains that I am climbing. 

It's been one roller coaster of a week. I went to a different church on Sunday, my nana spent a night in hospital, Alpha is a challenge, I'm angry at my parents, angry at God, struggling to fight the destructive thoughts, feeling totally unwanted by many people, I've cried my eyes for hours, I've screamed at my pillow, vented at so many and yet my working week is nearly done and here I am. I'm still standing and with a tiny bit of energy left. I'm amazed as the next person that I'm still going. 

People this week have said that it's a privilege to be part of my journey, that they're really proud of me, that I'm doing so well. I've laughed at most of them and told them to stop lying to me, but as I sit typing this I'm beginning to realise that they're right. I'm defying a lot of odds right now. 11 months ago, I didn't even know if I'd wake up the next morning and here I am beginning to live, not simply survive. Someone else said to me this week that those who struggle the most are healing and growing and end up thriving. I'm praying this applies to me too. Right now I don't know what I'll be doing in a year, and I don't really want to know either, but actually I know I'll be alive. I may still only be just learning to walk through life, but that's ok. These things take time. I'm healing day by day. God has been telling me this week I need to slow down. I do, before I burn myself out again. It's not sustainable to live at the pace I have been, never wanting to stop to enjoy the journey and only focusing on the destination. That's not the way to go. I'm starting to see that. Right now I need to be brave every single day and face the demons that tell me to run, to disappear, to give up. I may not shout loudly, nor seek praise for these things, but just getting out of bed is enough sometimes and I notice only by reflection. Reflection that only happens when I stop and take a breath. 

It's ok. I can be courageous, just in my own little way. 

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.

-1 Corinthians 16: 13-14

It's not all rainbows

A friend of mine wrote a new blog post today and so I hopped on over to her blog to read it. And then her post from a year ago caught my eye. She wrote about how she thought things would be easier now she lived with other Christians and worked for a church, but it was still difficult. It hit home. I've hit exactly the same wall, and I've been kind of avoiding blogging because I don't want to sound horrible and negative.

Genuinely, I love this place; I love the people I live with; I love the work I'm doing; I love my boss; I love that I have a room mate. That doesn't mean everything is rosy.

I think one of the hardest things for me recently has been living in community. We do everything together; live, work, eat, pray, socialise. I am not used to that. Over the last 3 weeks I have had a crash course in living with people. Over the last 8 months I have taught myself to cope with mental illness. I have not yet taught myself to cope with mental illness while living in community. It's flipping hard. I want to shut down and hide in bed until my brain resets. I want someone to hug me 24/7. I have not yet managed to find the balance; letting people in without worrying them. It is hard.

I had a bit of a bad experience my first week. A fellow intern didn't believe something I disclosed to her. Since then it has been increasingly hard thing to open up, because what if no-one else believes me? The other night, while on Alpha training, we had to do a role play. My character was one with a negative attitude. Someone else in my group commented after that it's really hard to deal with me when I'm being negative and that I'm a heavy presence. They were commenting on the character, alas it went straight in to my head "See, you're heavy. Lose some weight. People might take you seriously then. No-one likes a miserable cow."

I had a 1:1 meeting with an incredibly trusted person yesterday. She was present for the Alpha training and mentioned that she was frantically praying when my "negative attitude" was being commented on that I didn't take it to heart. At least I could be honest with her about it all! I had one of those moments while speaking to her when I say things I didn't even realise I was thinking, I'm not going to lie, my head is a lot darker than I care to say out loud, but she gets me and doesn't shy away when I tell her the truth. We talked, I cried, we laughed, she prayed. I felt better.

I know one meeting doesn't fix everything but admitting it is the first step. I'm exhausted and I find it so much harder to fight when I'm tired. I'm constantly busy and I've been neglecting the life-affirming friends who mean so much to me. I'm giving myself constantly but not taking time for myself. This has to change. I cannot survive like this.

In our first week our School of Ministry pastor gave us a bit of a catch phrase, that he'd been given while praying; "not just surviving; thriving" and right now I'm bouncing in the ocean. I'm not sinking, but I'm definitely not swimming. It's not a life, it's an existence. I have such an opportunity this year and I cannot throw it away because I let mental illness win for the 100th time. I need to embrace every moment of time with people, but also make time for myself. Sometimes that time for myself can be with my dearest friends, sometimes it can just be taking an extra long shower. I need to focus on our teaching sessions. It's such a gift to be getting such amazing theology teaching and I don't want to miss out. Most of all I need to grow closer to God in so many ways. I need to be more disciplined. Sit and have quiet times with God, read my Bible every day, take time to listen to what He wants to say to me.

Yesterday a friend told me "sometime we have to have bad days in order to see the progress we have made". I couldn't see it as she said it, but the more we talked the more I saw just how far I've come in 11 months. And I've got 11 more months to go even further. Challenge accepted.