In the process of going about writing my annual "look back at the year" blog, I discovered a draft from a month ago titled "Reflections". I'd not actually written anything in the post and now have no idea what was actually going through my mind when I thought about that post. Reflections seems an apt titled for my thoughts on the past year though, so I'm going to run with that.
Initially I considered doing a month-by-month description of this year. That's quite long-winded, and in case you didn't guess from the above paragraph, my memory is terrible. I, then, considered reading last year's blog post about my goals for 2017 and reviewing those, but that would just be documenting my failures. I'm not quite sure instead what form this post will take. I'm just going to write and see what happens.
My word for 2017 was speak. A terrifying word.
Here's what I learnt when I speak.
*I have a voice
*People listen
*I am capable
*I am making a difference
Here's what I learnt when I listen.
*I'm trusted
*I'm safe
*I am valued
Here's what I learnt when I let God speak.
*joy
*peace
*happiness
*contentment
*love
Here's what I learnt when I listen to God.
*God's got this
*I am right where I'm meant to be
This year has been a big year. My life has changed unimaginably. I started the year expecting to be in the full time role of the job I was already doing part time. I'd be at the same church. I'd have the same colleagues. I'd continue to deny the longing to not be in an office job. I'd be snuggling the same children once a week and thanking God for the one block of time where I could be me. I'd be battling my brain forever. Staying safe in my comfort zone.
I'm in another part time role, in a new church with brand new colleagues. I don't have a proper office job. I'm happier than I was. I've bounced back from mental health lapses quickly. I'm learning my passions. Finding my heart for children to know Jesus in new ways. Pushing myself further and further out of my comfort zone.
I wouldn't have gotten to where I am now staying still in my safe place. I don't know where I would have been if I hadn't stopped on that Wednesday morning to listen to what God was speaking so clearly.
I'm not ending 2017 in a place of regret or dread. This is the first year I feel hope in a tangible way. More so than ever before. This year hasn't been easy, please don't read this post as that. I don't want to spend time dwelling on the bad stuff any more.
I'm so excited for more. Come at me 2018.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Sunday, 31 December 2017
Friday, 27 October 2017
Contentment
Sometimes I forget I have a blog, or feel like I have nothing to write about and then other times I feel like I must write about everything and I get overwhelmed because what exactly do I write about?! The last month has been a muddle of both of these things and finally, I have time, energy, motivation and brain space to sit and type.
I started writing this while being sat by the doors that open on to our back garden so I got to admire the gorgeous autumn sky while staying warm under a blanket. I'm finishing this post sat on a friend's sofa while I babysit for the evening. I was staring out the window earlier thinking about how gorgeous the day was and how thankful I was that I was able to enjoy it. I'm thankful now that I can be curled up on this sofa knowing it's a place filled with love and that things can change but I still have my friends. I love these little moments of joy that remind me there is so much good even in the difficult times.
The last couple of weeks have been really eye-opening for me. My job has changed things. I've loved jobs before but this is a whole new experience- I could write a whole post on just how much I love my work so I won't get carried away but this has brought new realisations.
I am content. There I said it. Things are good and even when they aren't, it's ok.
I was at a friend's work event the other day and I was totally thrilled for her. Genuinely thrilled, without any hint of jealousy that I wish I could do cool things like she is doing or regretting all the choices I've made to this point. I cannot wait to see how her new job pans out and what awesome things she'll see happen. My eyes maybe possibly welled with tears of happiness, but I can't completely confirm this.
This past weekend a friend got engaged and I was totally happy for her. I haven't spent a single moment wishing it was me, or hating the fact I'm single. This is a huge change for me. I haven't spent hours in tears about being left behind or forgotten about. I cannot wait to hang out with her and hear all the details.
Doing new things has helped; I am sure of this. I'm in a new environment where I can be me, not me with a history, and it's been a valuable change. A really scary step to start with- I left my comfort zone a long way behind but really I haven't lost anything. I've gained so much in such a short space of time and I want to desperately hold on to this. This week has probably been the toughest in a long time, but it has totally reminded me of the things in my life that are precious to me.
It certainly hasn't been an easy journey to get to this point, and I am certain there will be huge bumps in the journey ahead but I am learning contentment no matter the circumstances and it's so satisfying.
I started writing this while being sat by the doors that open on to our back garden so I got to admire the gorgeous autumn sky while staying warm under a blanket. I'm finishing this post sat on a friend's sofa while I babysit for the evening. I was staring out the window earlier thinking about how gorgeous the day was and how thankful I was that I was able to enjoy it. I'm thankful now that I can be curled up on this sofa knowing it's a place filled with love and that things can change but I still have my friends. I love these little moments of joy that remind me there is so much good even in the difficult times.
The last couple of weeks have been really eye-opening for me. My job has changed things. I've loved jobs before but this is a whole new experience- I could write a whole post on just how much I love my work so I won't get carried away but this has brought new realisations.
I am content. There I said it. Things are good and even when they aren't, it's ok.
I was at a friend's work event the other day and I was totally thrilled for her. Genuinely thrilled, without any hint of jealousy that I wish I could do cool things like she is doing or regretting all the choices I've made to this point. I cannot wait to see how her new job pans out and what awesome things she'll see happen. My eyes maybe possibly welled with tears of happiness, but I can't completely confirm this.
This past weekend a friend got engaged and I was totally happy for her. I haven't spent a single moment wishing it was me, or hating the fact I'm single. This is a huge change for me. I haven't spent hours in tears about being left behind or forgotten about. I cannot wait to hang out with her and hear all the details.
Doing new things has helped; I am sure of this. I'm in a new environment where I can be me, not me with a history, and it's been a valuable change. A really scary step to start with- I left my comfort zone a long way behind but really I haven't lost anything. I've gained so much in such a short space of time and I want to desperately hold on to this. This week has probably been the toughest in a long time, but it has totally reminded me of the things in my life that are precious to me.
It certainly hasn't been an easy journey to get to this point, and I am certain there will be huge bumps in the journey ahead but I am learning contentment no matter the circumstances and it's so satisfying.
Monday, 17 July 2017
It is well
It was my birthday 8 days ago. One of my friends presented me with the gift pictured below. I don't think she had any idea how much my inner being is saying this at the moment. Despite the turmoil and the uncertainty of the past few months, I feel at peace currently.
2 days ago Gilbert joined the house. Gilbert is a one year old tortoise. I've wanted a tortoise for almost 2 years now, but it has never quite been the right time. Last November was a real battle for me, but I promised myself if I survived til spring time, I'd be allowed a tortoise. In March, I got permission from my landlords, but life was still a bit shaky. After turning 27 and managing, for the first time in at least a decade, not to have a birthday-related meltdown, I couldn't see a better time. I cried happy tears in the car driving home with Gilbert, because buying him was me committing to living. A tortoise isn't like a dog or cat in lifespan. The whole likelihood is Gilbert will outlive me, but he will outlive me when I die of old age, not by me ending my life prematurely. My housemate has already nicknamed him Dr Gilbert, because he's my new therapist, and yes he will keep me alive and somewhat sane, but he's also my reward for surviving until now. He will be the reminder of the promise I've made to myself. I don't break promises to others, and I'm praying that now I can keep this promise without external accountability. Meet Gilbert...
There's another reason I'm blogging today; not just to be excited about life and tortoises, but because it's an anniversary. 10 years ago, I was awoken by the phone ringing at 4am. My dad answered. A phone call from New Zealand, my uncle had cancer. He had days to live. I went to school that morning. I remember snapping at a friend who offered me Haribo, because how could I eat sweets when my uncle was dying halfway across the world? Less than 10 hours after the initial phone call, the second came with the worst news. My dad picked me up at the end of the school day. My family only seem to be able to deliver bad news in the car (I can count at least 3 more times I've been told bad news while either mum or dad were driving). The next weeks were a whirlwind. This happened 2 days before mum's birthday, he'd been diagnosed on mine. Flights were booked to the funeral. I realised I'd never speak to my cousin again. I met people who weren't who they said they were. I'd hugged my uncle at Easter for the first time in years, did I know then it would be the last time saw him alive? The mask I'd been hiding behind was rudely ripped off. My mental illnesses exposed after 5 or so years of being hidden. Everything was attributed to my uncle's death but it was far more than that. My diary entry on this day 10 years ago read "It shouldn't have been Graham. It should have been me." These sentences repeated in entries for at least another year, but it wasn't the first time I'd contemplated not existing.
My uncle was like a second father to me. I remember fondly the times he'd take my cousin and I shopping. The times we'd drive him crazy. His baseball caps. His sunglasses. The way he'd never raise his voice, just change the tone if we were in trouble. I notice it in my own voice now when telling children off. When I spoke to him on the phone and he'd ask me how learning Latin was going. He was one of the only people who I felt ok talking to on the phone. His visits were special. Christmas dinners with the compulsory brussels sprouts. Nana and Grandad's joy at having their son home for a little while, mum spending time with her brother. His love of travel became mine. In a couple of weeks I'm going to Canada. I always remember Graham speaking of Vancouver and it's been on my bucket list since he went. It seems fitting to be going this year. I remember when my uncle first bought his car- it was so exciting that he didn't have to hire cars anymore so always knew it was him when the car pulled up outside the house. That's my car now and while I want to replace it, it does still hold a special place in my heart. I knew he loved me dearly.
So much has happened in 10 years. I think he'd be surprised to see where life has taken me. But I think he'd be proud of me too. I've fought hard, faced challenges I don't think anyone could have expected. It's taken 10 years for me to be able to feel ok with life again. And for the first time since depression hit me, I want to live and live well. I want to enjoy every moment for now on and hope I make Graham proud.
I'm finishing this post with the title. An old hymn (by Horatio Spafford) that's been in my head for a few weeks.
2 days ago Gilbert joined the house. Gilbert is a one year old tortoise. I've wanted a tortoise for almost 2 years now, but it has never quite been the right time. Last November was a real battle for me, but I promised myself if I survived til spring time, I'd be allowed a tortoise. In March, I got permission from my landlords, but life was still a bit shaky. After turning 27 and managing, for the first time in at least a decade, not to have a birthday-related meltdown, I couldn't see a better time. I cried happy tears in the car driving home with Gilbert, because buying him was me committing to living. A tortoise isn't like a dog or cat in lifespan. The whole likelihood is Gilbert will outlive me, but he will outlive me when I die of old age, not by me ending my life prematurely. My housemate has already nicknamed him Dr Gilbert, because he's my new therapist, and yes he will keep me alive and somewhat sane, but he's also my reward for surviving until now. He will be the reminder of the promise I've made to myself. I don't break promises to others, and I'm praying that now I can keep this promise without external accountability. Meet Gilbert...
There's another reason I'm blogging today; not just to be excited about life and tortoises, but because it's an anniversary. 10 years ago, I was awoken by the phone ringing at 4am. My dad answered. A phone call from New Zealand, my uncle had cancer. He had days to live. I went to school that morning. I remember snapping at a friend who offered me Haribo, because how could I eat sweets when my uncle was dying halfway across the world? Less than 10 hours after the initial phone call, the second came with the worst news. My dad picked me up at the end of the school day. My family only seem to be able to deliver bad news in the car (I can count at least 3 more times I've been told bad news while either mum or dad were driving). The next weeks were a whirlwind. This happened 2 days before mum's birthday, he'd been diagnosed on mine. Flights were booked to the funeral. I realised I'd never speak to my cousin again. I met people who weren't who they said they were. I'd hugged my uncle at Easter for the first time in years, did I know then it would be the last time saw him alive? The mask I'd been hiding behind was rudely ripped off. My mental illnesses exposed after 5 or so years of being hidden. Everything was attributed to my uncle's death but it was far more than that. My diary entry on this day 10 years ago read "It shouldn't have been Graham. It should have been me." These sentences repeated in entries for at least another year, but it wasn't the first time I'd contemplated not existing.
My uncle was like a second father to me. I remember fondly the times he'd take my cousin and I shopping. The times we'd drive him crazy. His baseball caps. His sunglasses. The way he'd never raise his voice, just change the tone if we were in trouble. I notice it in my own voice now when telling children off. When I spoke to him on the phone and he'd ask me how learning Latin was going. He was one of the only people who I felt ok talking to on the phone. His visits were special. Christmas dinners with the compulsory brussels sprouts. Nana and Grandad's joy at having their son home for a little while, mum spending time with her brother. His love of travel became mine. In a couple of weeks I'm going to Canada. I always remember Graham speaking of Vancouver and it's been on my bucket list since he went. It seems fitting to be going this year. I remember when my uncle first bought his car- it was so exciting that he didn't have to hire cars anymore so always knew it was him when the car pulled up outside the house. That's my car now and while I want to replace it, it does still hold a special place in my heart. I knew he loved me dearly.
So much has happened in 10 years. I think he'd be surprised to see where life has taken me. But I think he'd be proud of me too. I've fought hard, faced challenges I don't think anyone could have expected. It's taken 10 years for me to be able to feel ok with life again. And for the first time since depression hit me, I want to live and live well. I want to enjoy every moment for now on and hope I make Graham proud.
I'm finishing this post with the title. An old hymn (by Horatio Spafford) that's been in my head for a few weeks.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well
With my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
With my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Monday, 18 January 2016
Peace
I find peace such an interesting concept. We pray for peace for ourselves, for others, for nations, for the whole world; in situations, in circumstances, in general. We offer each other a sign of the peace on a Sunday. We dream of the day we will see peace. People campaign for peace. It's unavoidable. Is it an internal or external thing though? Do people actually understand what peace is or what it is to be peaceful? I certainly don't think I do.
The dictionary defines peace as "freedom from disturbance". I like that. Disturbance is generalised. Sometimes I hate when things aren't specific. This is not one of those times. There are some (rare!) days when I feel like my life is sorted and going in the right direction. I could say I feel at peace on those days; but I think I much more often say "I feel stable and where I should be right now".
This evening I was told by a friend that I just seem so peaceful at the moment, that I give off this unreal sense of peace to everyone else. This isn't the first time I've been told this but is the first time for a long time and interestingly I'm told it the most when my brain is in complete turmoil. More than anything I really wish I could feel this. Currently I have 50 billion thoughts (actually an even-ish mix of positive and negative) floating around my head. One of them is "x thinks I seem really peaceful" but most of them are restless "must be doing something else" or "I'm failing at this, that and the other". It's exhausting. And yet somewhere, deep down there must be peace, because somehow it is overflowing from me and out over others. Back in the summer I was given a picture of being full of deep wells of peace, I guess they've started to overflow again.
I have to admit though, today I got angry. Someone suggested it was a blessing that I'm radiating peace to others despite how I'm feeling, but I want that peace for me! I want to feel calm, but my head says no. I want to just know that unbelievable peace that God is giving others through me. I know I'm being selfish but I'm exhausted and I just don't feel like I can give out any more. I let people in today. I started to break down that barrier that's keeping people away from the craziness of my mind and let them in. It's hard, and I'm scared once again that the "I'm crazy, avoid me at all costs" banner is flashing brightly but it's not fair to keep them out. Maybe I've put the barrier around myself too which is keeping the peace away. Who knows? Only time will tell. I need to share some of the peace, even when I'm not feeling it myself.
I was going to finish with Philippians 4:7, but something in the back of my mind was telling me there was a different verse I needed. One that tells me I have to do something in order to feel God's peace. I have to let it in. My prayer for tonight is that my heart is soft and ready to let the peace in.
And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.
Colossians 3:15
The dictionary defines peace as "freedom from disturbance". I like that. Disturbance is generalised. Sometimes I hate when things aren't specific. This is not one of those times. There are some (rare!) days when I feel like my life is sorted and going in the right direction. I could say I feel at peace on those days; but I think I much more often say "I feel stable and where I should be right now".
This evening I was told by a friend that I just seem so peaceful at the moment, that I give off this unreal sense of peace to everyone else. This isn't the first time I've been told this but is the first time for a long time and interestingly I'm told it the most when my brain is in complete turmoil. More than anything I really wish I could feel this. Currently I have 50 billion thoughts (actually an even-ish mix of positive and negative) floating around my head. One of them is "x thinks I seem really peaceful" but most of them are restless "must be doing something else" or "I'm failing at this, that and the other". It's exhausting. And yet somewhere, deep down there must be peace, because somehow it is overflowing from me and out over others. Back in the summer I was given a picture of being full of deep wells of peace, I guess they've started to overflow again.
I have to admit though, today I got angry. Someone suggested it was a blessing that I'm radiating peace to others despite how I'm feeling, but I want that peace for me! I want to feel calm, but my head says no. I want to just know that unbelievable peace that God is giving others through me. I know I'm being selfish but I'm exhausted and I just don't feel like I can give out any more. I let people in today. I started to break down that barrier that's keeping people away from the craziness of my mind and let them in. It's hard, and I'm scared once again that the "I'm crazy, avoid me at all costs" banner is flashing brightly but it's not fair to keep them out. Maybe I've put the barrier around myself too which is keeping the peace away. Who knows? Only time will tell. I need to share some of the peace, even when I'm not feeling it myself.
I was going to finish with Philippians 4:7, but something in the back of my mind was telling me there was a different verse I needed. One that tells me I have to do something in order to feel God's peace. I have to let it in. My prayer for tonight is that my heart is soft and ready to let the peace in.
And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.
Colossians 3:15
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