I forget.

In today's world "I forget" means one of two things. "This thing genuinely slipped my mind" is the first. 'I forgot to bring that thing for you', 'I forgot my keys', 'I've forgotten your name' or 'I forgot to brush my teeth this morning". Innocent things that our brains did not retain or recall at that moment when we needed the information. These things are ok. I'm often found saying "I forgot what I came in to this room for". A phrase often associated with older generations but one I say with growing frequency!

The other meaning is one of "I chose to ignore that fact" or "I chose not to remember the thing". For me, this is slipping in to my vocabulary more. "I forgot we were meant to meet for coffee", "I forget when I last showered", "I forgot food is an important part of life". I forgot about coffee should actually read "sleeping was a much better coping mechanism", I forget when I last showered should read "I am ashamed with how bad I am at looking after myself" and "I forgot to eat" well, that's purely "my head is winning and therefore I'm 'busy' over meal times meaning the act of eating slips my mind". 

The latter meaning is appearing more and more often in my speech at the moment. I hate that I have to admit that. But as a result of consciously choosing to ignore the need for food and being kind to myself, I am becoming more forgetful. I used to be able to hear a person's name once, and recall it years later. I remembered faces without issue. I could remember exact dates things happened in my childhood. Now I'm struggling to remember if I managed to brush my teeth this morning (honestly? I have no idea). I've forgotten what I did yesterday because I "forgot" to nourish my brain enough to remember these details. I'm sleeping because that doesn't require my brain. I can't forget anything important if I'm asleep when I should be taking it in. My moments awake are full of lists and reminders and alarms. My memory is not reliable. 

There's one final "I forgot" in my vocabulary. The forgetting of something that was difficult or uncomfortable. I forgot how quickly this spirals. I forgot how one forgetful thing feeds in to the other. And right now? I've forgotten how to pull myself back out of this. And I'm not sure which meaning of forgotten that is.

Speak

I thought I had a really catchy title for this post, but it doesn't quite fit. Hmmmm anyway...

The week before last I had the privilege of curating a different twitter account. One called MH_Voices. Every week someone different takes over and tweets about their life and their experiences, they ask questions, raise awareness and help build community. I was really nervous, because wow suddenly everyone was about to really see my life. Not just the personal-Twitter-appropriate version either. I've been putting off this blog post because it's really hard to write also.

I went in to curating the account with the view of "stories are important". I am a massive believer in that everyone has a story to tell. Life may seem uneventful or it may be incredibly overwhelming but every single thing that happens is part of what makes you unique. I find my own story a bit hard to deal with sometimes. There's some bad stuff (which I'm relatively open about), some good stuff (which I'll constantly talk about) and then there's some stuff I'm still processing (mostly bad and definitely not often talked about). Some of it I'm ashamed about but it happened and it has made me who I am today. I told the Twitter-world some of my mental health story. It's hard because a lot of it is intertwined with other things. My recovery definitely has made more progress since I became a Christian. How does one tell people that in a sensitive manner; telling the truth but not forcing my beliefs upon others? I hope that I got that balance right. God doesn't fix everything but doing life with Him had to be better than the state I got myself in to alone. That's what my faith hinged on, that one thought the night I became a Christian; "it can't be worse than my life right now".

I finished my week curating even more convinced that stories are valuable and no story is insignificant. I also finished it with a realisation: I have a voice. I have infinite words when it comes to writing them on paper, typing them on a computer screen but speaking aloud is not my thing. But maybe it should be. I've never been the outgoing one in a group of people, I struggle to maintain conversations with strangers, I become socially incompetent when faced with more than one person to talk to at a time. If we're in a meeting, unless I'm having a particularly bad day, I will sit quietly, agree with whatever is said and let opportunities pass me by because I am afraid of the repercussions of voicing my thoughts. People have said utterly hurtful things about the way I've spoken up previously which has resulted in me being even less willing to talk. A Twitter account, where I can share my story and not be told it's wrong is an infinite confidence boost. I've been more honest, I've been brave in doing different things, I've started to speak up a little more (but I know I need to work on my tone of voice!). Things are changing, little by little. All thanks to Mental Health Voices.

I have dreams for the future where telling my story will bring hope to others in a big way, but right now, I want to make a difference to one person at a time and a simple Twitter account has started the process. I can do this. I have a story and my voice is valuable. One step at a time.

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.

Quiet Voice, Loud Mind

I realise I've been quiet recently and not just on this blog. I use Facebook a lot less, I tweet not as often and I don't often have fun things to post on Instagram. While typing this I realised I've become quieter in life too. I'm busier, sure, but I'm withdrawing more and spending more time alone. While, in some capacity, this is good because it's so hard to get time alone when you live with so many others, it also isn't good for me.

I  guess what I really need to say is things aren't great in my life right now. The struggles of being poorly over Christmas haven't really gone away and now I'm struggling intensely in every aspect of life. Getting out of bed some days is a challenge, let alone the act of getting out of pjs and in to clothes. I'm not feeding myself appropriately nor am I behaving sensibly around food when I am eating. I'm getting angry at little things. I've had moments of trying to find relief in self harm. I cry a lot more than I don't. I'm losing weight and people are noticing. I have a constant weight on my shoulders. I'm back in therapy that I can't really afford. I'm not communicating with friends as I should. The thought of the future has left me wanting to die.

And yet, here I am. In the last 10 days I have co-ordinated catering at 2 events, facilitated prayer spaces for an all-age service, led endless children's activities and prayer meetings, babysat and many other things. I am still breathing. I haven't hurt myself this week. I've reached out to people in a way I haven't in a very long time. I'm in a total daze and physically exhausted but I'm alive and that is what is important. I've given out so so much this weekend for this morning, and the second the service started I knew everything we'd done was right. I was filled afresh and totally blessed by everything that happened.

It's not been easy these past couple of weeks. I went to an amazing children's leaders conference and then had a brilliant 4 day holiday to Budapest. I didn't take care of myself in any of that time and that's what has left me in this muddle now. I've pushed my body to its limits. Mentally I'd love to go to sleep and never wake up. However I've never felt so loved and valued by people around me.

This week I had a really raw, honest, vulnerable conversation with a pastor in a coffee shop. Someone I never imagined I'd share my story with. If that seemed unlikely, her sharing her story in return wasn't even on my radar, but she did and I felt honoured. It's been so long since anyone has told me their story, mainly because they hear a little bit about me and don't want to burden me. That didn't happen and it's changed things. People trust me still. I'm not too broken to ever be a support for others. It gave me hope in a way I haven't had in a long time. I matter to other people and stories should be shared. Hearing stories of experience gives inspiration and hope in a way that nothing else can quite manage.

While we're on mission I have to give a 7 minute evangelistic talk. Stories should be shared. I know what I need to talk about. I have to be brave. I have strength to do this because God has lined up so many people recently to encourage me all over again. Today I am thankful, because my voice may be quiet, my mind may be loud, but God is loudest of all and that's exactly all I need.


The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 
Lamentations 3:22-23

Creativity

If we haven't had this discussion before, let's start with this well-known fact about me: I am not artistic. I even can't draw a stick man without it going wrong. I don't do art. With that in mind, let's continue.

We were sent on an Art Retreat on Monday. As you can imagine I was not looking forward to this, The anxiety about the whole thing was eased slightly by the fact I knew the woman running the day and she is a wonderful person so if it all felt too much I knew she was a safe person. So at 8.30am we left our house and wandered towards where the retreat was going to be. I knew where I was going so was less worried, except for the fact it was right by my old uni building; the building in which I experienced some of the worst moments of my mental health. Oh joy. Also the building in which we had an art therapy group session as part of our "therapeutic intervention" module; that ended in an absolute meltdown for me. And so we got to the place of our retreat- in the shadow of all these horrific triggering memories for me. Definitely was not meant to be a good day for me.

Anyway, we got there. And we started by describing pictures and spending time alone with God asking him what He wanted to say to us that morning. Then we started to draw random lines with our non-dominant hands. This sounds ridiculous, right? Well actually it changes the part of your brain that you use to create and you see things differently and have different ideas. It's pretty cool, and useful for when you have a complete mind blank! Cue pages of us scribbling.

After a quick cup of coffee we got to play with paint! YAY! I may not be any good with paint but I do love a good bit of mess! With no brushes in sight, just our hands and some old credit cards and a couple of little wooden sticks, some people donned gloves. Not me though, I love getting stuck in- is it any wonder I work with children? I just hope when I have my own children I don't suddenly become averse to mess and am still able to let them get covered in paint! Anyway, I picked up a credit card, dipped it in yellow paint and went from there.  Having had such a bad start to my day, my main thought was "sunshine makes me happy, cling on to the sunshine, it'll get better, just remember the sunshine".

Somehow, this was the result! We critiqued each others' work once we'd finished. Given my superficial thought process, I was amazed anyone chose to say anything about this let alone that it would be anything deep. To my surprise the person said that the sun was like Jesus right in the middle of the page, because He is the light and that the darker bits around were smaller than the light. While I considered this briefly, my thought process about it remains "I like sunshine, It makes me happy" However I cannot tell people what to get from my work, it can be what they need. 

My next bit of art will not feature because the thought process behind that was even more pathetic: "I like pink and I like turquoise. YAY!". 

Finally, as a whole group,our task for the afternoon was to create one picture that we all contributed a bit too. Ten canvases, one picture. Somehow we created this masterpiece...

Yup, and you wouldn't even know which square Little Miss "I have zero artistic ability" did ;) However if you're really curious, it's the top middle one! Not a bad effort, eh?! A friend doing a PhD in Art told me she liked the brush strokes- we didn't have any brushes all day so this made me giggle a lot! 

So it turns out I have a bit of an artistic ability after all. In actual fact, if you were to ask me the wrong question, I would tell you I'm not even creative. That's a lie. I love craft. I love making things. The amount of crochet I have done this past week is crazy. But my lack of belief in my ability goes way back to my thoughts of needing to be good enough- I don't often have a grey area in life so if I'm not perfect at art, I have no skill whatsoever. 

Just because I'm not particularly good at art doesn't mean I am not creative in other ways. I can write (I think!), I can crochet, I can make things on a pottery wheel. We're taught from such a young age that if you can't do things like painting and drawing then you have no artistic skill but at 25, I'm learning that actually that isn't the be all and end all of creativity.

We have no idea if God can paint, however He is creative. Every single on of us has been created by Him and we are all unique. We are all one of God's masterpieces. That's pretty exciting! I was considering this on my walk earlier. God chose every single one of us to have our exact characteristics; our appearance, skills, strengths and weaknesses. None of us have these things by mistake. And that's something I really needed to work out for myself. I may not have been gifted with decent artistic ability but I have other skills; I can listen well, I can talk about my experiences using words, I can appreciate pretty things, I love working with children, I can crochet, I'm willing to try things. There's a whole host of things I'm sure I haven't worked out yet either. Just because the majority of my art work looks like it was done by a child, doesn't mean I'm a reject in God's eyes. He gave me different skills to make me unique and that's ok. He chose to make me just as I am. I need to remember that.

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8

Be still.

There's a lot going on currently in my life. In some ways January flew past; so much happening, so many things to do, very little time to do it. On the other hand, it has felt like the longest month and I've been so desperate for February to arrive.

In all this I've had some time to reflect on what God was teaching me this time last year and what I need to remember for this year. Last January I had a breakdown. I ended up signed off sick for 2 months, in which time I was bullied in to resigning from my job. It was a horrific period of my life. And yet I learnt so much; about myself, about life and about God.

2016 started well; I was constantly busy, seeing so many friends and reconnecting with old friends, working extra hours, staying up later socialising with my housemates. Life is not sustainable  for mewhen I insist on doing everything and constantly say yes and so 2 weeks ago this "really positive start to 2016" backfired and in some capacity, mentally, I am in the same state I was 12 months ago. But this time I'm reminded of the major lesson I learnt last year. 

To slow down, take time and enjoy the moment.

A housemate recently commented that as a house we have slowed down. She said it like it wasn't the best thing. For me, it's one of the best things. We linger longer over dinner, don't need to be talking constantly, can just sit with each other without needing to be doing the same thing. It's comfortable and it leaves me feeling content. 

Several of my housemates are thinking about what to do once the internship ends. For me, this term is not about what is coming next. Last term was about settling in to a new routine, next term is about the future. This term is about simply enjoying things. I don't need to be worrying about what's next; where I'll live, what I'll be doing, who will still be in my life. God's got that sorted and I'm sure he'll prompt me when the time is right to start looking at those things. He did with the internship and He will again- when I trust Him (something I'm not doing too well at lately). 

When I got happy and busy I forgot about enjoying the little things. I haven't been sleeping well, but that means I've been waking up early and getting to see the sunrise: my favourite time of day. I've used my car a lot recently which means time to walk outside and through parks. I have a standing coffee date with my closest friend which means time to just people watch in the coffee shop while I wait for her. I need to take these moments. I need to grab on to them and appreciate them. I need to embrace the little moments of stillness and stop trying to fill them with more things. 

I'm surrounded by people who rush and feel like time is running away. That's not me. I learnt the hard way that I need to take time to rest, be still, be present in this moment and this moment alone. I don't want that reminder forced on me again. In teaching this week, the guy was saying "look at the birds" and "look at the flowers" are not mere suggestions in the Bible, they're instructions. This hit home. I've been ignoring the world around me. I've not been looking at the birds or the flowers, I've been looking at the floor. There's a statistic somewhere saying that you're more likely to experience mental health problems the further you live from green space. But for me, I live near green space but don't acknowledge it.

And in all of this I have neglected God. Things got too busy, everything was going really well and I stopped making real time for Him. My head was no longer full of praise, nor was it thinking of any requests. I may have been spot on in having quiet time every single day, but I wasn't making space for God in it. It's been all about getting it done to keep the routine in place and then going back to life. This isn't unusual for people who work in the church- God becomes work and business-like. He isn't 'living', more just a name on a page and a thing to pray to occasionally. I guess I'm writing this to show I'm human and to acknowledge my weakness. Something clicked in my head today and I don't want it to be like that. I want to acknowledge God in the small and the big. In the day to day and the unexpected. I need to get back to God. He has been so faithful in everything, so why do I run when I need Him most?

So, this is me saying I am here. I am in this moment. I am not in tomorrow, I am not in a week's time, or a month's time or a year's time. I am here now. And this is where I will be; in this moment, looking at everything around me; everything God has put in my life for a reason. I need to be still long enough to let Him speak. 

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still
Exodus 14:14