reviewNovember 11, 2015

This time of year has always been a bit awkward for me. Early November has a lot of painful memories attached, memories that shaped my path through roadblocks more than open doors. It’s a time of year I pause for a little longer to feel those ever present divine arms encircling me and lean into them just a little more. It’s always a temptation to re-live those memories, drag myself through the darkest moments I have known, and at times that may be beneficial, though it rarely is. The past is a dangerous world, one where we get to master the remote control and replay how we would tweak the scenes with the perfect clarity of hindsight vision. The present is always a bit more cloudy.

Times of loss, however, do shape us. It may be loss of something we loved, someone special, loss of a situation or loss of a dream, it shatters our security and leaves us with a mark of vulnerability. We then chose what to do with this mark, how it will influence us going forward. Sometimes this scar can seem overwhelming, there have been moments, thankfully fleeting, when living to endure more scars has seemed beyond my ability. Some marks scratch us so deep they light a fire, bestow upon us a gift, unwelcome but heavy with blessing. While some marks we bury, cover over and deny their existence, others we parade as badges of honour, magnets for sympathy, over shouted excuses. Time fades them all, lets our true selves develop and grow, we can’t be stopped, our shoots and leaves will break even the most robust concrete lid.

Who I am today is not who I was 8 years ago, 3 years ago, or even the blurry eyed new mother of one year ago. Who I am today is marked deeply by those times but not defined by them. My past roadmap is written on my heart, etched into my wrinkles and breathed into my blood – to deny it is to deny myself. Equally to live as if the journey is over, the map complete, is to deny the Kate of tomorrow, of next year, the Kate that will read this with wiser eyes a decade from now.

This time of year has always been a bit awkward for me – and in a sort of backwards way I’m glad. I’m glad I can still feel the lump in the throat, the wind that tugs towards the vacuum, the whisper of numbness, because it clarifies the laughter of my son, the love of my husband, the ever present need for something greater than I and the security of my odd little life.

October’s ProjectOctober 30, 2015

My challenge is to do a project every month and share it here. I’ve got a whole host of ideas and very little in the way of budget, so frugal is the name of the game. (Click on any image to see it bigger & scroll all images!)

October’s key event was Adam’s first birthday, it turned into a big event when the guest list topped the 40 mark and our little house was quite literally packed to the rafters. While we splurged on some helium balloons there was lots of home-made bits as well.

This month’s project was Adam’s birthday decorations

The theme was safari animals and it gave a lot of scope. I ended up buying a pack of safari animals graphics, simply because I liked the characters more than the freebies I found. I used my printer properties to print everything as posters on multiple pages. After they were roughly cut and assembled, I mounted them onto cardboard and cut them out leaving a generous border. I added a happy birthday banner and a couple of signs too. They took some time but the end result was worth it.

Inspired by ideas on-line we printing a load of photo’s from the last few months and grabbing the sticky tack I made a huge number one for the wall besides the food table. I even tried making a cake that thankfully, tasted ok this time. Everything was set for his birthday proper and then the party at the weekend saw us add decorations to the hallway and balloons. I used a roll of crepe paper to cut some big leaves and a weak glue stick to attach them to a curtain on an existing tension rod we positioned opposite the front door. Signs were punched then hung using 2 colours of green wrapping ribbon, and the 2 animals sticky tacked to the wall. The other 3 animals remained in the sitting room alongside swirling foils while the bedroom come playroom had helium balloons with strings hanging just low enough to play with. The swirls were a pre-made packet though I wish I’d thought of making them, the photo’s and the balloons, especially the free-standing monkey, pushed the cost up a little.

Now the party has passed we’ve kept the big animals and plan on decorating the bedroom walls with them. I’m hoping to look out the spray varnish to make them a bit more durable first.

Being Silent in the BusyOctober 2, 2015

We have busy lives. It’s drummed into us from such a young age – What did we achieve today, how are we going to fill our time tomorrow? I’ll sadly admit I’ve been conditioned into the state where being busy feels good, where being busy, and more importantly being productive, gives our lives value – if we’re brave enough to admit it directly or not. Being lazy, being idle, having little to show for your days are all marks of time not well spent. When I don’t achieve anything I feel the day slipping away like a lost fortune… equally when really busy I lose the beauty of silence, stillness, and space to connect with my creator.

Finding a balance is difficult. I manage a sprawling kids ministry site, between wrestling with the joys of being a creative, I have translation projects and the dream of making the whole thing into a published book. I take an active role in my husbands career, assisting with situations that need an avalanche of English. My husband freelances which is another way of saying he works really disconnected hours, at least twice the hours he’s paid for, and has an income a bit like public transport, nothing for ages then everything at once. Not to mention I’m a mummy, a ‘full time-and-a-half’ job in of itself, complete with overflowing washing baskets, a never ending cleaning job list, and a kitchen that beacons me to try and pull meals out of it far too often. It’s easy to be busy.

Being still is harder. Being still is not the cuppa on the sofa or the pause under the shower. Being still is truly stopping, both physically and mentally, ceasing the mental to-do list and letting the voice in your head drift away. It’s centring yourself to a moment in time and then letting it go. Stillness is an active, continual choice. It’s something I’m practising, because in the stillness I find peace and joy.

In the stillness I don’t need to strive for perfection because it’s already there.

We are called to practice stillness, practice stopping, practice pausing as part of our faith. Pausing isn’t counter-productive, quite the opposite. Many people get eureka moments as the fall asleep, as their mind lets go of the problems the solutions surface from the heap. Stillness is productive in much the same way, it clears the clutter and reveals the simplicity of reality. It leaves us open to possibilities, encounters, and for me right now, most importantly, it leaves me open to renew my conversation with my maker.