Matt has a job for sure for September, I am excited and nervous and gradually coming around to the idea…
Today I think I’ve had the wrong attitude. Yesterday I found out that Matt may or may not be getting the job, today I found out that he definitely has a job in September. Somehow I thought it was all about me, about how I’m feeling and the home(s) I have to leave and how I have to find a job and go to a new place and how it’s big and scary and I don’t know what to feel, but I realised, when I read this verse from Psalms this evening, that I’d got it all wrong. It’s not about me. Not just because it’s Matt’s job and our new life together, so if anything it’s about us. But actually, it’s not about that either, it’s about God! It’s about his perfect plan for our lives, and where HE wants us to be and what He has in store for us.
I have experienced so much this year, I would have thought that I had learnt something about how God works in my life. He knows where I need to be, what I need to be doing. He has put me here at the moment to learn about him, about myself and about life, to do his work and to serve him. To dwell in his house and be safe in him. He has taught me to trust him, to seek him and to serve him exactly where I am. I know that God is my fortress and my strength, I know that I should pray at all times, and to thank God in ALL circumstances; I know that I don’t need to worry about tomorrow. So why on earth did I think that Matt getting a new job was a scary, uncertain thing? Why did I decide to think about all the things that I didn’t know, instead of trusting in the one certain thing I do know?
I’ll do better tomorrow, I’ll thank God and I’ll look to the future with hope and expectation, not fear and speculation.
‘I know the plans I have for you’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’ Jeremiah 29:11
So I’m helping to lead communion tomorrow, at a church I’ve never been to. It’s kind of a big thing, I mean in Roman Catholic churches you’re not even allowed to take communion, and you’ve got to wear a dress (sorry) to lead communion in Anglican churches. There is often so much ceremony around this simple act of remembrance and sacrifice, I somehow feel unworthy. I am humbled when I hear the words “we come to the table, not because we must but because we may, not because we are strong, but because we are weak.” I feel so small, to think that Jesus died, so that in my weakness, he can be strong; so that I can have the choice to fall on my knees and come to him.
I normally feel awkward going to kneel before the altar to receive communion at Anglican churches, but actually that is one of the best places to be before God, in awe of the sacrifice He made for us.
I have led few acts of worship/sacraments in church, and I don’t want this to be a performance, or judgement of the words I say, I want the 5 minutes of breaking bread together to match the sacrifice of Jesus, to pour out myself in light of what he has done. My words are not enough, so I hope they will stay few as I share Jesus’ body with church tomorrow.
“this is my body, broken for you. Take and eat in remembrance of me.”
Psalm 46 begins like this: God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling,
It goes on to talk of storms and wars and disaster, but at the end, it says “Be still and know that I am God.” we might not have wars and disasters thrown at us every day, but so often our lives are too busy for us just to stop.
In amongst everything life throws at us, from exciting new challenges, mundane school life, boring work, things we enjoy doing, tv programs we have to watch, facebook updates we have to read, I pray that we can take a moment and be still, be still in God’s mighty presence and acknowledge that he is God, and that He is in control. I pray that we can see God working in our lives, and take a moment to sit back and reflect on how that’s happening. Amen!
I just read a story on this website http://www.twloha.com/vision/ and there were tears in my eyes and I thought it was about time I blogged. In blogging, I rambled (as usual) and my thoughts got confuddled, but here goes:
I have always had the privilege of knowing that I am loved. Even in the darkest, lowest points in the middle of the night where everything is just too much to cope with there has never occurred to me the thought that life wasn’t worth living, that I am so unlovable that I don’t deserve life. I think the way my parents raised me and the truth I have always known of God’s everlasting love for us, thankfully, prevented me from ever feeling this way.
Because of this, I have no idea how it feels to hit ‘rock bottom’ no idea what the bottom of the dark hole of depression looks like. I don’t know what to say to those who are depressed. I don’t deal well with upset or crying people- I generally say stupid things like ‘it will be okay’ or try to make them laugh! This said, I always want to be genuine, want to be there to listen to someone if they need it, a shoulder to cry on. And I think at times I have been, and through these times I feel I have lived a small part of their pain, taken on some of their grief myself. I hope. I also know that on my own, I can’t carry my own small pains (relatively speaking) let alone the burdens of others. I sure have tried in the past, but I know the only way I can continue to help people is by giving them to God. By offering them up in prayer and asking God to do what He can, while leaving myself open to be used by God in any possible way to help.
So what I am trying to say, in a rambly, convoluted way is this: I can’t cope with self harm. I cannot imagine what it is to feel worthless, to have no reason to live, and because of that, I know that I need to rely on God when someone is telling me they don’t know what the point in living is, or that they hate themselves. I can’t cope with any of that, but if God gives me the right things to say, and I am able to help them somehow, then I will.
People often say ‘home is where the heart is” but when my heart feels like it’s in so many places, it becomes difficult to know where home is.
The home I knew for 17 years is different now, all done up and owned by someone else. That place that was safe, familiar and comfortable, it’s not mine anymore.
My best friend’s house feels like home, I walk in the door and want to belong there, I feel like I am me there, like everything is ok.
My family live in a different house now, and I guess I call that home, when I’m there I have my room and my stuff, but its not quite familiar enough, not so I can walk around in the dark, or with my eyes shut. I just haven’t lived there long enough! My heart is with my pets and my family there, though, so that’s home too.
My sister’s house is one of my favourite places. Such peace and comfort and safety hidden in the middle of Dartmoor. It doesnt belong to me, but my heart is there also, and when I’m there I feel home.
My fiance lives in a house. A house which doesnt belong to me either, but when I’m there I feel like I belong, I feel secure and I feel loved. I call that home too.
I spent 6 weeks in a flat in India, with a dodgy sink pipe, a leaky bath and weird and wonderful creatures, but my heart was there with me, and part of it might just still be there.
Lastly, the house I’m in now, my belongings are here, I am lying in bed comfortable and I can help myself to food, I could walk around in the dark if I had to. I know how many stairs there are, I don’t get that lurch from missing the bottom step.
My job is here and my heart is somehow here too, I am safe here and I can call this home too. The more I say ‘home’ about this house, the more at home I feel.
This year I’m going to be looking for my own house, actually looking for somewhere to start the rest of my life with Matt, and that’s kind of scary. My heart maybe torn over 100 miles or more, but when it comes down to it, my heart is here, right where God has put me, and by October my heart will be where God is taking me, and I’ll be safe and comfortable knowing that I belong there.
I think mums are special. There’s something about a mother that is unique, something which only you know and only you can describe.
A year and a half ago I “moved out” (I currently still have a bedroom!) of my parents house for the first time, and since then my relationship with my mum has changed. Somehow, now I can talk to mum, I can tell her how I’m feeling and ask her for help, I want to know what she thinks and I appreciate all she has ever done for me so much more. Besides, no one cooks like my mum does.
I joked last week about how I have adopted other mums recently, her reply was “that’s ok I’ve adopted other children” (before listing off other “children” she thinks of as hers!) it’s funny though, because I have at least 5 women in my life who I respect and aspire to be like in my life, but when it comes down to it, none of them are my real mum, none of them could replace my mum.
If one day I get the privilege of paying my mum back a small amount of what she has given me, and look after her one day, I hope that I can do it with a smile on my face, trust God, and thank him in all circumstances. Because then I’ll know that I am my mother’s daughter.