Anyone who has known me for a while, or has asked me to do something slightly out of the ordinary, will know that I play things safe. My childhood was spent going on school trips and battling anxiety attacks so that I never actually did anything too exciting. Example: I have been to Egypt twice. I have twice avoided the chance to ride a camel because it wasn't 100% safe. I've cried my way through flights, driving lessons, cable car rides, the thought of abseiling, boat trips; you name it, I've cried.
Top Tip: don't EVER put me on a rollercoaster.
If you have known me for longer than 6 months, the next thing I say might surprise you. I have a job as a Children and Families Worker. Yes, I just said that. For as long as I can remember I have said the words "I love children's work but I could never do it as a job". Once again, I have learnt if I say "never" God says "Let's do this!". FLIP.
It isn't as simple as me saying I applied for this job, attended an interview and got it, which is usually how one gets a job, and largely the visible process I went through. However that isn't the full story.
My current job ends in 2 weeks so I was happily job hunting for more events-based jobs. A colleague/friend then sent me a link to this job. I laughed because he knows exactly what I think of children's work- he dealt with all my protests about it for a whole year. I nearly sent him a very sharp and sarcastic response but something stopped me.
I applied for an events job alongside the children's worker role because bizarrely I had time to spare for a change! It was Bank Holiday weekend and I'd also been off sick from work for 2 days.
I got an interview for the very safe events job. The day before the interview, I got offered an interview for the children's worker role. I nearly cried because I never dreamt I had a chance at the job. That was hint 1 that I was not cut out for events for life.
I went to the first interview, and by the end of the conversation knew I would die of boredom if I ever got the job. I have never felt that about a job before, I'm always a person who is content with what comes my way. I also knew that if I got offered the job and took it, I would have settled for second best. That was hint 2 that I wasn't meant to do it.
The day after interview 1 I went for a walk in Port Meadow. I have no idea why, but God always speaks to me there without fail. I was walking a path I always walk and spotted another. He asked me why I didn't walk on the other path. Hint 3 was quite an obvious one.
3 days after the interview, and the day before interview 2, I got offered a second interview for the first job. I sent my friends a message asking what I should do, and all of them said "keep your options open". That didn't sit quite right even though so many people told me the same thing. I've always maintained that the thing I love most about commuting is the time and space to process. Driving to the interview, I knew so clearly what I had to do. God had been asking me for 48 hours "do you trust Me?" and I'd been seeking the answer from elsewhere rather than turning to Him. I had to reject the second interview for the first job. When I realised it, God said super clearly "if you trust I am good, you need to say no".
I went to the interview for the Children's worker role with such peace. It was 2 parts and time with the toddler group. I thought I spoke absolute nonsense. I stumbled over words, could barely articulate what experience I had or why I thought I'd be good for the role. I was up against two people they already knew. I was a complete outsider. I walked out of that interview and prayed. Sent a quick email to the other place declining their second interview and waited. Internally judging my performance, and admonishing myself for not having coffee before, I believed I'd thrown away two job opportunities in the space of one morning.
Obviously, I was wrong. For the first time in years I took a real risk. I leapt out of my comfort zone, not quite knowing whether the safety net would be there. God is good and God is faithful. Proverbs 3:5-6 is a perfect culmination of my last 2 weeks.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him and he will make your paths straight.
Monday, 11 September 2017
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!
Sunday, 28 May 2017
Unspoken things
Shame is a topic that has been going around in my head for a long time now. The very fact I feel afraid to write about it shows that it needs to be tackled. There have been so many incarnations of this post. I keep getting scared, deleting it and trying to write it again. We'll see how far this one gets.
If you asked me to list my proudest moments from life so far, I could maybe list off 5 things at a push. I wouldn't be able to tell you many details, just a few basic bullet points. If you asked me to list the times I felt shame, I will lose count. I will also be able to tell you how old I was, where I was, what words were said, who said it, who witnessed it and what that's meant for me further down the line. I'm not sure if talking about shame opens old wounds or starts the healing process, we shall see.
I remember being 7, looking at a photo of me after a ballet exam. Pink leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes, hair scraped back and my thighs touching. Looking at that photo I felt disgusted, I knew my body shouldn't look like that. I was not a good person because I did not look right. At age 7, my value was in how I perceived my body. At age 10, a boy in my class commented on my body. That was all the confirmation I needed. The years following didn't matter. One comment was all it took to know that I would never be good enough. Looking back now I still hate my body, I still hate how it looks, but I also hate that I've held this belief for almost 20 years.
Whilst babysitting on Monday I jotted some notes down for this post (don't worry, the baby was napping at the time!). I don't think I need to elaborate on this.
Hurt.
Told someone.
More hurt.
Told no-one.
Assumptions.
I let someone in.
Pain.
I shut everyone out.
Broken.
I gave up caring.
Shame.
Secrets.
Silence.
Safe.
Brave.
Speak.
For years, I've believed I'm broken. I'm worth nothing because that is all the world has ever told me. As I let God in to my life, some things started to change but I held on to some secrets. The words associated to things brought more pain, things I wanted to leave in my past. I was hurt because I was broken. I did not break because I was hurt. 2 summers ago, I got brave. I spent the whole summer learning to trust someone and then I used words I'd never used before out loud (I'd tried previously but was too poorly for anything to be done) And this person listened. She didn't laugh, or tell me I was lying. She hugged me. She prayed for me. Most importantly, 2 years later, she's still a friend.
2017 for me is about words. But sometimes I think actions speak louder than words. I'm thankful for several loyal friends. People who know almost the full story, and some who don't quite, but regardless they've stuck around. It's words that broke me; words I spoke over myself long before anyone else voiced my thoughts. While words can heal too, sometimes it just isn't enough. Action is needed. Love someone a little harder today.
Shame is an awful emotion. It destroys everything in you and your relationship with everyone around you. I battle every single day with some part of me- be it my physical being or my actions or someone else's actions or in fact my inaction but it's changing. It takes up less brain space. I'm getting there. Love changes things. Not just the love from others, or the love from myself but the love God gives. His abundant love is powerful. It's breaking down walls from long ago. God's perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18) I'm scared but I have people who don't run away from me and a God who loves me despite all my flaws. I'm laying myself out here because these are the things that have brought me to where I am today.
I'm posting this today because of someone at church tonight who was so plainly honest. I admire her and her strength and while she was talking I knew tonight I need to be open too and post this blog. I'm not posting this on my own strength, God has given me the courage to do so.
Isaiah 54:4 says
Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded; for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more. This verse has been in my head the entire time I've been trying to write on shame. What a comfort! The rest of that passage is equally powerful and I suggest you look it up. But for now I'm taking a deep breath and hitting publish.
If you asked me to list my proudest moments from life so far, I could maybe list off 5 things at a push. I wouldn't be able to tell you many details, just a few basic bullet points. If you asked me to list the times I felt shame, I will lose count. I will also be able to tell you how old I was, where I was, what words were said, who said it, who witnessed it and what that's meant for me further down the line. I'm not sure if talking about shame opens old wounds or starts the healing process, we shall see.
I remember being 7, looking at a photo of me after a ballet exam. Pink leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes, hair scraped back and my thighs touching. Looking at that photo I felt disgusted, I knew my body shouldn't look like that. I was not a good person because I did not look right. At age 7, my value was in how I perceived my body. At age 10, a boy in my class commented on my body. That was all the confirmation I needed. The years following didn't matter. One comment was all it took to know that I would never be good enough. Looking back now I still hate my body, I still hate how it looks, but I also hate that I've held this belief for almost 20 years.
Whilst babysitting on Monday I jotted some notes down for this post (don't worry, the baby was napping at the time!). I don't think I need to elaborate on this.
Hurt.
Told someone.
More hurt.
Told no-one.
Assumptions.
I let someone in.
Pain.
I shut everyone out.
Broken.
I gave up caring.
Shame.
Secrets.
Silence.
Safe.
Brave.
Speak.
For years, I've believed I'm broken. I'm worth nothing because that is all the world has ever told me. As I let God in to my life, some things started to change but I held on to some secrets. The words associated to things brought more pain, things I wanted to leave in my past. I was hurt because I was broken. I did not break because I was hurt. 2 summers ago, I got brave. I spent the whole summer learning to trust someone and then I used words I'd never used before out loud (I'd tried previously but was too poorly for anything to be done) And this person listened. She didn't laugh, or tell me I was lying. She hugged me. She prayed for me. Most importantly, 2 years later, she's still a friend.
2017 for me is about words. But sometimes I think actions speak louder than words. I'm thankful for several loyal friends. People who know almost the full story, and some who don't quite, but regardless they've stuck around. It's words that broke me; words I spoke over myself long before anyone else voiced my thoughts. While words can heal too, sometimes it just isn't enough. Action is needed. Love someone a little harder today.
Shame is an awful emotion. It destroys everything in you and your relationship with everyone around you. I battle every single day with some part of me- be it my physical being or my actions or someone else's actions or in fact my inaction but it's changing. It takes up less brain space. I'm getting there. Love changes things. Not just the love from others, or the love from myself but the love God gives. His abundant love is powerful. It's breaking down walls from long ago. God's perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18) I'm scared but I have people who don't run away from me and a God who loves me despite all my flaws. I'm laying myself out here because these are the things that have brought me to where I am today.
I'm posting this today because of someone at church tonight who was so plainly honest. I admire her and her strength and while she was talking I knew tonight I need to be open too and post this blog. I'm not posting this on my own strength, God has given me the courage to do so.
Isaiah 54:4 says
Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded; for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more. This verse has been in my head the entire time I've been trying to write on shame. What a comfort! The rest of that passage is equally powerful and I suggest you look it up. But for now I'm taking a deep breath and hitting publish.
Saturday, 15 April 2017
Words can be damaging...
Recently I've had some many blog post ideas, but the second I sit down and start typing my head goes "NO. You absolutely cannot write about this" and so I give up. Which would be fine if this only went for blogging. However it's fallen in to every part of life.
No. You cannot write this job application.
No. You cannot make this food.
No. You cannot wear this outfit.
No. You cannot go to that event.
It's taken me a while to work out why suddenly my head is telling me no to everything. Someone recently told me "you're better than X" (if I specified what X actually is (not a person) it would take all but 3 seconds to work out who said it and what about). In some cases, this would be encouraging, reminding me I am worth much more. Alas, in this case it minimised something that I had put my heart and soul in to for nearly a year and suddenly I began to question my value. Was this thing, that I worked so hard at just X and nothing more?
Rationally I know the answer is no. I can list my achievements and know full well it was much more. But that bit of my brain that says that I'm no good, will never amount to anything and certainly need to stop thinking I've ever been good at anything to start with.
With changes in life, with time to stop and appreciate the now, to invest in neglected relationships, I forgot to be on my guard about what is really going on in my head. In the midst of the joy of spending time with housemates and friends, I've had several rejections from jobs I've applied to. On their own that isn't anything significant, but at night or when I'm on my own, the thoughts are returning full-force. I'm not good enough. I exist to make other people happy but I deserve nothing.
Recently I've told several people parts of my story I'd long buried or believed insignificant but those thoughts are deafening in times of unemployment "you'd be better off on benefits" and "you'll never really function in society". Things said without second thought over 4 years ago now and yet they still haunt me. 4 years ago I was told to give up on my dream of nursing. While I don't want to return to nursing, my head doesn't care. My brain relishes reminding me of my failure. You'll never be valuable. Stop trying. Give up on every dream, mental illness has already taken it.
And so here I am. Trying my hardest to find some new job. I know my work does not define me, but in the quiet of unemployment my head has free reign and I need something to prove it wrong again. I'm clinging on with my fingertips. Appreciating every little thing that comes my way for now but longing for something more permanent. To prove I can and I will. Depression may destroy bits of each day, but I will not let it destroy my life again. In the meantime, any kind words sent my way would be appreciated.
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.
-Ephesians 4:29
Saturday, 4 February 2017
Words are powerful
I titled this post over a month ago and yet didn't really know where I was going to go with it. I considered all the negative words that have been spoken over me; words that still, on the worst days, float around my head taunting me and telling me that the people who spoke them were right. Nowadays, I can choose whether I listen or not, but back then they were the only things being spoken in to my life.
At the start of this past week, things I had hoped for work-wise fell through (2 jobs, 1 voluntary thing). In 48 hours I had everything that was making this awkward transition period easier taken away from me. Getting one rejection message is hard at any time. Getting 3 in 2 days is really really rubbish. And yet, that is exactly what happened.
I'd be lying if I said I am 100% ok after that. And I'd also be lying if I said I was impeccable company to have around on Wednesday. I was tired and grumpy and all-round miserable. However I am taking the news about a billion times better than I would have done 6 months ago.
Last weekend was my church's weekend away. I spent 90% of the time sobbing and convincing myself everyone hated me. But equally in the other 10% of the time (mainly in the car to and from the weekend, but not exclusively) I had some really important conversations with people who actually mean quite a lot to me.
One of those people I was talking to about having jobs lined up and that all would be ok. They shot back a comment about "needing to find me something more permanent". It startled me but got me thinking.
With another I was discussing what I really wanted in a job (very little actually matched with what I had planned) and where I thought my future was leading.
The final one we just talked about lots of things in the past and future but as we talked I was making decisions in my mind.
Mainly though the whole weekend God was speaking. He gave me a picture at one point, of a dark house with 2 lights still on. Then the lights switched off and He said "you're done here now". And as I started to type this blog, I realised that partly relates to the 2 job things. They were in one line of work that I love but don't want to do forever. It's about other stuff too, but it makes sense.
I'd also already prayed about the two jobs and come to the conclusion they weren't the right thing. The jobs falling through wasn't a surprise in any way by the time the messages came through. It was hard but God had been telling me there's something better. Sometimes God speaks to me directly, sometimes He uses other people. Either way, this weekend I gave Him space to speak.
I could really easily let the voices from years ago that tell me I'm not good enough speak louder. I could let them convince me that I'm worthless and will never be a truly functioning member of society. Or I could let the affirming voices of those who surround me now telling me they want me to have stability and that there so much more to life that I need to experience.
I know who I'm choosing to listen to. Negative words might be powerful, but positive words are life giving and I'm choosing to cling tightly to those because I fully trust that God has amazing things in store for me.
Sunday, 1 January 2017
OneWord 365 2017
Speak.
This word did not come easily. There must have been maybe 20 other words I thought about but none were right. So just after Christmas, I took myself on a prayer walk. Within 30 seconds, I had my word. Speak. Then ensued 15 minutes of arguing with God because I absolutely did not want this word. Speak. What am I meant to do with this?! Brave was scary, can I not have an easier word this year? Please, anything is better than speak. Then God gave me the verse to go with it. A very wildcard verse to appear in my head (especially as at that moment, I was not listening particularly well!)
"Speak, for your servant is listening" 1 Samuel 3:10 when God is talking to Samuel but he thinks it is Eli calling him. Samuel eagerly responds to Eli saying "Here I am". Eventually Eli realises God is speaking and tells Samuel to respond with this sentence when God calls to him again. Samuel responds and God tells him big things.
Once I'd got over the fact I cannot change my word for 2017, I started to think. I started to write this post in my head as I walked and so many things came to me that are linked to this word.
Firstly, back in autumn 2015 I ventured in to the world of practicing the discipline of submission. I was great at it for a term, and then the assignment was done and I stopped. I had a negativity jar and was watching my speech- was what I said True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, Kind? "From out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45). Back to moderating what I say and knowing when to stay silent. Challenge number 1.
Secondly, being brave has involved lots of speaking out about things that have happened or that I'm going through. I can be brave with words on a page. Can I be brave with my voice? I can't leave bravery behind in 2017 so that's challenge number 2. Being brave and speaking out more, especially when it feels hardest.
Finally, the real heart of 1 Samuel 3:10. Being prepared for God to speak. In return I am listening. Communication is not a one-sided thing. We don't need to speak for a conversation to happen. But like Samuel, I need to speak in order to show that I'm ready to listen to God. Honestly, in the last 4 months I can count on my hands how many times I've prayed, and on one hand the amount of times I've heard from God. That's hard to admit, but it is true. I'm coming from a place of conversation breakdown with God and it needs to change. Speak holds so emotions for me. It's scary; God might say something I do not want to hear, I might feel not ready to hear what He has to say. I might misunderstand what He is saying. All these things could go wrong. But what about all the things that could go right?!
And with this is the overall challenge for my year: giving God time to speak to me, truly listening to what He has to say, letting Him guide me in life further. This year once again holds so many uncertainties. But of one thing I am completely sure. God wont ever leave me alone in it. He is my hope and my anchor, my solid Rock.
I'm sure more will unfold over the year but for now these are the starting blocks.
So here it goes...
Speak, for your servant is listening.
This word did not come easily. There must have been maybe 20 other words I thought about but none were right. So just after Christmas, I took myself on a prayer walk. Within 30 seconds, I had my word. Speak. Then ensued 15 minutes of arguing with God because I absolutely did not want this word. Speak. What am I meant to do with this?! Brave was scary, can I not have an easier word this year? Please, anything is better than speak. Then God gave me the verse to go with it. A very wildcard verse to appear in my head (especially as at that moment, I was not listening particularly well!)
"Speak, for your servant is listening" 1 Samuel 3:10 when God is talking to Samuel but he thinks it is Eli calling him. Samuel eagerly responds to Eli saying "Here I am". Eventually Eli realises God is speaking and tells Samuel to respond with this sentence when God calls to him again. Samuel responds and God tells him big things.
Once I'd got over the fact I cannot change my word for 2017, I started to think. I started to write this post in my head as I walked and so many things came to me that are linked to this word.
Firstly, back in autumn 2015 I ventured in to the world of practicing the discipline of submission. I was great at it for a term, and then the assignment was done and I stopped. I had a negativity jar and was watching my speech- was what I said True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, Kind? "From out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45). Back to moderating what I say and knowing when to stay silent. Challenge number 1.
Secondly, being brave has involved lots of speaking out about things that have happened or that I'm going through. I can be brave with words on a page. Can I be brave with my voice? I can't leave bravery behind in 2017 so that's challenge number 2. Being brave and speaking out more, especially when it feels hardest.
Finally, the real heart of 1 Samuel 3:10. Being prepared for God to speak. In return I am listening. Communication is not a one-sided thing. We don't need to speak for a conversation to happen. But like Samuel, I need to speak in order to show that I'm ready to listen to God. Honestly, in the last 4 months I can count on my hands how many times I've prayed, and on one hand the amount of times I've heard from God. That's hard to admit, but it is true. I'm coming from a place of conversation breakdown with God and it needs to change. Speak holds so emotions for me. It's scary; God might say something I do not want to hear, I might feel not ready to hear what He has to say. I might misunderstand what He is saying. All these things could go wrong. But what about all the things that could go right?!
And with this is the overall challenge for my year: giving God time to speak to me, truly listening to what He has to say, letting Him guide me in life further. This year once again holds so many uncertainties. But of one thing I am completely sure. God wont ever leave me alone in it. He is my hope and my anchor, my solid Rock.
I'm sure more will unfold over the year but for now these are the starting blocks.
So here it goes...
Speak, for your servant is listening.
Monday, 26 December 2016
Stubborn or determined?
Apologies for not blogging for a while. I've been incredibly poorly and my laptop has been very very sulky. I also am sorry for not blogging about the festive season at this time of year- not my thing! As a result of my poorly laptop I'm currently typing this on a tablet which is odd and annoying and also not my thing which leads on to my final apology: sorry if there are any typos. Typing on a tablet is enough of a challenge, let alone checking the behaviour of autocorrect. Tomorrow I'll have a new laptop but today I have time so in my stubborn state I will blog using the tablet and it will be OK.
That was a sneaky way to lead in to this! This post has been drafted in my mind for 3 weeks or so now and I'm just getting time to type it.
I'm stubborn. Always have been. I think it is a side effect of being an only child. I didn't have to compete with anyone for years so I got used to getting my own way. I am right. I know what I'm doing. I'm independent and therefore I will do it myself.
While growing up, to outsiders, I was painfully shy and reserved and couldn't possibly answer any questions sent my way, I always knew exactly what I wanted. I knew what I wanted to do, what I didn't want to do, whether fighting the 'I do not want to do this' thoughts were worth it or not. If I did not want to do something on holiday or in any after school clubs I wouldn't do them. I may not have been able to articulate it but I knew. Years of sobbing and panic attacks was my way of saying no. I've gotten better over the years. I can just say no or admit that I want to do it my way and you are wrong if you want to disagree with me!
Over the last year, attending careers seminars, writing my CV and completing job applications has made me reconsider my stubbornness. How do I write that in a list of personal qualities? How do I make it a good thing? Sometime in spring someone described me as determined and it got me thinking. It's become more of a fixture in my description of myself. When there a cause I believe in, I'm determined to do what I can for it. If my friend is hurting, all my focus goes on doing what I can- I want the best outcome for them. In a job, I'm determined to do my best; half hearted is just not good enough. It might take me a couple more hours but the end result needs to be just right (usually my perception of just right!)
3 weeks ago, I was reminded once again about this part of me. I alluded to being very poorly recently and it's true. You don't need more detail than that. However that is what got me thinking. My GP, as lovely as she is, basically said that we'd tried pretty much everything else possible and the only option is to refer myself back to a service I don't really ever want to go near again. And that's when I realised how much I'd given up on myself. But that isn't where it ends. My stubborn streak kicked in. I am not going back to that service; there are many more torturous options I'd rather endure than be referred back to this one place.
But am I being stubborn because I'm refusing to refer myself somewhere? Because my determination level to get better went off the charts. I can do this. I do not need another waiting list to sit on, one that will pretty much put my life on hold (2 years long just to be assessed, pre-therapy for at least 3 months, means I'd be expecting to stay in Oxford for at least 4 more years without any option to move away etc). Do I want this? No. (Well I want to stay in Oxford but out of choice, not necessity!)
I'm determined to beat these illnesses. I know I can do this because how many other things have I gotten before out of sheer stubbornness and doing it my way?! On the outside I look stubborn and like I'm refusing help but honestly it's sparked so much determination in me. I can get better and I will get better. It won't be with medication (I can't be treated with medication, this is not me being anti-meds!) and it won't be with a referral to a 'we've tried everything else' service. It will be because I am strong enough. OK, I'm not strong enough in myself but that's OK because I've got Jesus and he strengthens me to face anything including the mental illnesses that have been plaguing me over half my life. I'll be going in to 2017 with a renewed sense if determination. I can do this for me, because I need to. It's been too long.
"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength."
Philippians 4:11-13
That was a sneaky way to lead in to this! This post has been drafted in my mind for 3 weeks or so now and I'm just getting time to type it.
I'm stubborn. Always have been. I think it is a side effect of being an only child. I didn't have to compete with anyone for years so I got used to getting my own way. I am right. I know what I'm doing. I'm independent and therefore I will do it myself.
While growing up, to outsiders, I was painfully shy and reserved and couldn't possibly answer any questions sent my way, I always knew exactly what I wanted. I knew what I wanted to do, what I didn't want to do, whether fighting the 'I do not want to do this' thoughts were worth it or not. If I did not want to do something on holiday or in any after school clubs I wouldn't do them. I may not have been able to articulate it but I knew. Years of sobbing and panic attacks was my way of saying no. I've gotten better over the years. I can just say no or admit that I want to do it my way and you are wrong if you want to disagree with me!
Over the last year, attending careers seminars, writing my CV and completing job applications has made me reconsider my stubbornness. How do I write that in a list of personal qualities? How do I make it a good thing? Sometime in spring someone described me as determined and it got me thinking. It's become more of a fixture in my description of myself. When there a cause I believe in, I'm determined to do what I can for it. If my friend is hurting, all my focus goes on doing what I can- I want the best outcome for them. In a job, I'm determined to do my best; half hearted is just not good enough. It might take me a couple more hours but the end result needs to be just right (usually my perception of just right!)
3 weeks ago, I was reminded once again about this part of me. I alluded to being very poorly recently and it's true. You don't need more detail than that. However that is what got me thinking. My GP, as lovely as she is, basically said that we'd tried pretty much everything else possible and the only option is to refer myself back to a service I don't really ever want to go near again. And that's when I realised how much I'd given up on myself. But that isn't where it ends. My stubborn streak kicked in. I am not going back to that service; there are many more torturous options I'd rather endure than be referred back to this one place.
But am I being stubborn because I'm refusing to refer myself somewhere? Because my determination level to get better went off the charts. I can do this. I do not need another waiting list to sit on, one that will pretty much put my life on hold (2 years long just to be assessed, pre-therapy for at least 3 months, means I'd be expecting to stay in Oxford for at least 4 more years without any option to move away etc). Do I want this? No. (Well I want to stay in Oxford but out of choice, not necessity!)
I'm determined to beat these illnesses. I know I can do this because how many other things have I gotten before out of sheer stubbornness and doing it my way?! On the outside I look stubborn and like I'm refusing help but honestly it's sparked so much determination in me. I can get better and I will get better. It won't be with medication (I can't be treated with medication, this is not me being anti-meds!) and it won't be with a referral to a 'we've tried everything else' service. It will be because I am strong enough. OK, I'm not strong enough in myself but that's OK because I've got Jesus and he strengthens me to face anything including the mental illnesses that have been plaguing me over half my life. I'll be going in to 2017 with a renewed sense if determination. I can do this for me, because I need to. It's been too long.
"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength."
Philippians 4:11-13
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