The life of a curate's wife

It's been a long time since I wrote anything.  Actually I think that I've written in the region of 10,000 words since I last posted a blog, but you know academic essays are a bit... different.

Anyway, it was our wedding anniversary yesterday and I thought about writing a blog about marriage.  After only 12 years of marriage I decided that it would probably be totally arrogant or total rubbish.  But, I do know what it's like to be 'the Curate's wife' and thought that maybe it was time that I shed some light on what it's like being married to the Curate given the title of the blog.

The Curate has been in post for two years now.  I've still not gotten over the fact that when the Rev got his Magic Hands, I wasn't given super powers.  Or a self-cleaning house.  That would have been nice and helpful.  You hear all this talk as a spouse about being called just as much as your Rev.  And then they get ordained, adopt a new title and start wearing strange clothes whilst you get to stay normal (whatever that is), adopt a new label ("the Curate's wife") and start ironing your clothes.  

Yes, the sudden need to iron clothes because of a perceived pressure to look presentable in public did genuinely happen in a blink-and-you-missed-it sort of way.  I'd like to say that I stopped ironing everything in sight because I came to my senses and/or realised that my magnetic personality was enough to detract from the sight of wrinkly clothes.  In reality, I did what I do best and fell pregnant with baby number five.  I was too busy throwing up like it was some sort of extreme sport to be able to stand for long enough to iron anything.  God has a sense of humour.  At least it's better than succumbing to the stereotypical twinset and pearls.

So, apart from the Bishop not blessing me with super-holy powers to support my husband, what is it really like being the Curate's wife? That's a harder question to answer than you would think.  I know that I can only speak from my personal experience and there are many Curate's wives out there who will have very different experiences.  But, even in my own experience, each day varies so much that it's hard to explain what it's like.  

We live in a relatively small and close knit community.  It's the sort of place that still respects their clergy because they are clergy.  That made for a very interesting first few weeks when it felt like the entire community knew who I was but I had no idea who anyone else was.  However, the majority of people didn't seem to know my name, just my affiliation to The Curate - that was irritating and a sure fire way to provoke a total identity crisis in someone who had given up a Proper Job and moved 300 miles away from 'home' to take on such a strange role that is so ill-defined.

There have been plenty of entertaining moments... I could tell you The Bin Story from our very first week living in the Curatage.  Or maybe the story about The Curate dressing up as Super Duck.  Or the stories about the random stuff that just goes missing in the house because The Curate needed it ("where's the dustbin gone?").  Ooooo, or the things that happen when The Proper Vicar goes on leave (frogs in the cellar, bat rescue - we predict a plague of locusts next)

There's also some moments that are harder to know how to deal with.  There are times when it feels like everyone is obsessed with how long it is until you are moving (for the record, they are stuck with us for at least another year) and you can't help but wonder if they want you to stay or are waiting for you to go.  There are also moments when you feel like you can't just, you know, live, without someone commenting on something that you are doing/buying/eating.  It is... interesting when you learn that the contents of your shopping basket has become a source of gossip.  I have learnt to laugh at a lot of things and I have learnt to be less sensitive.  I have come to a point that I generally don't care what people think of me.  I am who I am (well, that phrase was good enough for Jesus).  I like to think that I am a genuine version of me now that we are two years in and more confident, although I'm hopefully a bit more tactful and have a better filter between my brain and my mouth than I had prior to Vicar Factory.

We used to have sessions at Vicar Factory for the spouses when we heard from previous spouses who had been in post for a year.  So many of the spouses said that the hardest thing was hearing other people put their husband down and openly criticising him.  I remember being more worried that everyone would think that the sun shines out of The Curate's backside and I would be the only one who bemoaned his faults.  Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha is the only appropriate response to that.  It is incredibly hard knowing how hard (and how late) The Curate works but the feeling that it is never enough.  There is always more to do than is possible and turning off from that is hard.

So, there's the Day Off.  Great when it happens.  Not a fan of pretty much anything suddenly being scheduled for a Friday.  Only having one day off each week when we have five children always makes the Day Off a toss up between doing jobs around the house and escaping for a few hours.  The house is permanently a mess and the laundry piles are huge.  We choose to escape as often as possible.  Not because we dislike being in the Parish but because it is the easiest way to try and turn off from something that we love so that we can recharge our batteries and carry on serving.

And we do love being The Curate and The Curate's Wife.  We love the people, we love the parish, we love the work even if my 'work' contribution is often unofficial or behind-the-scenes.  I don't think it would be possible to be in full-time ministry if you didn't love it because it is so all-consuming.

I think that's as good as my attempts at describing what it's like to be The Curate's Wife are going to get.  Most of the time I'm just me trying to do the best that I can.  I don't know whether I find it comforting or terrifying that I don't think I have changed that much as The Curate's Wife.  Most of the time when I feel like God should have given The Curate a Holy wife who is equipped to deal with all eventualities, I remember that winging it is always an option.

Dear Mr Devil

Dear Mr Devil,

I thought I'd write you a letter to make one thing clear.  You have not won.

I've written this letter in my mind so many times but I was so angry that all I wanted to do was shout and swear at you.  But I'm not going to sink to your level.  I will not let you win.

You knew that our eldest daughter is so precious and that she has a strong faith in your enemy, Jesus.  And you knew that her illness would raise so many difficult questions.  Why does Jesus allow her to be ill? Why doesn't he make her better? If he is such a loving God then why is he allowing such a bad thing to happen to a good girl?  You knew that it would break my heart to look at my beautiful girl and know that her carefree days were behind her.

But here's the thing.  You aren't Jesus.  So you don't know what it is to love.  You aren't God the Father.  So you don't know what it feels like to see your children suffer because the world is a broken place.  You aren't the Holy Spirit.  So you don't know how to impart the power of God on someone.  If I'm going to put my trust in someone, then I'm going to trust someone who knows love, compassion and encouragement.

I know what you do.  You break people and then you twist the blame on to God.  I cannot listen to someone who chooses to do that.  I will not believe your lies.

You want me to see illness and a broken body.  I see miracles and a determined soul.  I know how dangerously high her blood sugar was.  I also know that it is a miracle that her kidneys are not damaged and that she was not suffering from complications or arriving at hospital in a coma.  I know that the fear I felt was not from God.  It was from you.  And what did I do? I prayed for her and asked as many people as possible to do the same.  I approached the loving God I know for help and he answered our prayers.

I know how she didn't want to play for the first couple of days at home and how sad she looked.  I know how fearful she was of her bedtime injection.  I also know how she conquered that sadness and fear.  I know that she was so determined to live a normal life that she carried on and was awarded a swimming badge.  I know that she conquered her fear of her bedtime injection so that she can go to Brownie Pack Holiday.  I know that her smile is just as beautiful and radiant now as it was before her diagnosis.

I understand that we suffer because we live in a broken world.  I don't like it.  No one does.  But it's not God's fault.  I know many people won't get that.  It's hope of eternal life in heaven that balances out the rubbish of this world.

In the meantime, I know that God can cope with my questions and my emotions.  I know that it's OK to grieve for my daughter's health and to express all of the emotions that I feel whilst grieving when I pray.  God's shoulders are broad enough to take it and he does not have a problem with honesty.

You have a problem with honesty.  And that's why I had to write this letter.  I had to be honest.

Yes, I hurt, but you have not won.  I choose God.  I choose truth.  I choose life.

So my daughter's body needs a bit of external help.  I like to think of it as a few modifications rather than an illness.  A helping hand to function in a way that her body can't manage for herself any more.

I don't know where this leaves you.  I will not fear you - you may seem powerful but you do not have the power of God.

I do know where it leaves me - with my faith intact and with a deeper level of trust between me and my daughter.

I guess you have some thinking to do.

Yours,

The Curate's Wife

FaceBook, FaceBook, how I love-hate thee

'Fasting' from FaceBook during Lent was... Interesting.  If you want to know why I tried to stop using FaceBook during Lent then you can read my previous post here.

So, how did it go? Was it worth it? Did I learn anything? Did anything in my life change? Well, it was a mixture of nightmare and freedom all rolled in to one.  I think that I've learnt five main lessons from my 'FaceBook fast':

• Fasting from FaceBook is hard.  Really hard.

There's something addictive about FaceBook.  I think that I can have a quick peek to keep up with the  news of my loved ones.  The reality is that it takes about an hour a day to catch up with my Newsfeed (yes, I have timed it).  Also, more shamefully, my motivation for reading lots of the status updates is probably more akin to gossip than genuine concern.  I thought it would be relatively easy to switch off from FaceBook but it left a void that was hard to resist the temptation of filling.  I thought that if I could use FaceBook less than I had cracked the issue.  What actually happened was that a quick peek to 'keep up' wasn't enough and I found myself spending more time having a quick peek than I had imagined.  I'm not convinced that it is the ability to be 'connected' with other people that is the addictive quality of FaceBook.  Even as someone who struggles when I don't spend enough time with other people, FaceBook is no substitute for face-to-face time.  I'm not entirely sure what it is that makes FaceBook addictive but I do know that the more time I spend on FaceBook, the more often I check it.

• FaceBook is more about ego than I care to admit.

I don't worry about how many 'likes' my posts get.  But I have realised that I do like to talk about me and my life quite a lot! I don't think that FaceBook is an easy place to remain humble.  It is a snapshot of life that we choose to present.  It's not very often that I see a post that admits to fault, failure or even normality.  We use FaceBook as our own personal platform to declare our priorities to the world.  Even when we just post cute baby photos, they are the cute ones, not the outtakes.  Why? Because we care what people think about us.  Why is that a problem? Because egos are fragile.  They get hurt.  Life isn't about me and I'm not sure that my FaceBook statuses ever reflect that.

• FaceBook over-use is not a symptom of an unhappy life.

It is, however, a cause of an unhappy life.  For me it is, anyway.  Let me explain.  I thought that I used FaceBook as a means of escapism from the Ground Hog Day nature of my life as a stay-at-home mum.  It turns out that I was wrong.  My life isn't boring and I don't feel like escaping from it when I actually engage with it and am present in my life.  I can cope with my life when I face it.  It's not something that I need or want to run away from.  Spending copious amounts of time on FaceBook, even in regular small amounts, transports me from the here and now to an electronic connection with other people's egos.  Even sending a personal text is more rewarding than putting a public announcement on FaceBook.

• 40 days was not long enough.

It turns out that I'm not Jesus.  Who knew?! Whilst 40 days in the wilderness was long enough to prepare Jesus for his public ministry and for Jesus to crack resisting temptation, it hasn't been long enough for me.  I'm still working through some of the stuff that Lent has thrown up.  I'm not sure when or if I will return to FaceBook in the way that I was using it before.  At the moment I'm trying to make sure that God has the loudest voice in my life and that I spend more time listening to him than anything else.  That has to include FaceBook.

• There's nothing wrong with using FaceBook.

The problem is not using FaceBook per se.  The problem is when FaceBook uses you.  I know many people who don't struggle with using FaceBook and they don't have any issues with the way in which it connects them to the world.  Maybe they restrict their friends list to genuine friends rather than acquaintances? Maybe they have more time on their hands? Maybe they post about different things? Maybe they still manage to keep up with real life one-to-one connections and maintaining the public platform that is FaceBook? I don't know.

For the moment, I'm not officially off FaceBook but I'm not exactly on it either.  I'm still working out how to use FaceBook without it using me.  I'm not convinced that there is a set formula to follow.  What I do know is that life is much better when I engage with it.  I'm off to post some snail-mail...

Dear God, could you make my body a little more awesome?

I'm going to let you in on a little secret... that reasonably flat stomach that I have that gets lots of comments about being amazing for a mother of five... I'm sucking it in.  All. The. Time.  My (seemingly permanently) separated stomach muscles leave me in fear of my entire abdominal contents spilling out to never again find their proper place inside me.

Before having babies, my dress size was in single figures and I could get away without wearing a bra if I really wanted to (although, as I recall, I didn't take that opportunity up while I still had the chance).  Now? Well, there is this moment in the film Big Hero 6 when Baymax deflates a bit and has this saggy sort of appearance that wobbles when he walks:



That, folks, is my postnatal body.  Having stretched my abdomen out to beyond a reasonable limit five times now, my stretch marks look like a map of the London Underground and the excess skin that I have from carrying a 9lb13oz baby is never going to snap back.

Some people are all warm and fuzzy about their postnatal bodies, calling their stretchmarks the 'badge of honour of motherhood'.  I call it irritating.

So, I was wondering, just how bad is it to want to change my postnatal body?

Where I used to work, we would regularly have visiting plastic surgeons come to perform the most complex facial surgery.  One of them mainly performed breast reconstruction following mastectomy for breast cancer when he wasn't helping us out.  One day I was chatting with him and joked that I would quite like a 'mummy lift' when I stopped having children.  Apparently it is A Thing.  A list celebrities genuinely do pay for a postnatal tummy tuck and the redundant tissue is then used to perk up postnatal breasts.  Part of me is quite tempted... The rest of me feels guilty for being tempted.  I'm fairly certain that plastic surgery for purely cosmetic (ie vanity) reasons is frowned upon within Christian circles.  I could argue that I'm just wanting to restore my body to how God had made it.  But that seems a bit ridiculous when God made my body capable of bearing children.  I'm not convinced that God would consider stretchmarks or a bit of postnatal sag to be a design flaw.

I know the Bible tells me that I am "fearfully and wonderfully made" and I can marvel at my body for a while when I consider how my skin protects me from infection or my body uses multiple organs to turn food into energy.  But after that moment of wonder, I'm not entirely awestruck by my body.  Let's face it, a few seconds scanning the TV or a magazine and the bodies that can be seen there leave me feeling a little less impressed with my own body.

Maybe God would like to reconsider his plan for my body just a little? You know the odd things that could do with a bit of a tweak so that I'd be feeling a bit more "fearfully and wonderfully made"? A slightly more flashy exterior as a house for the Holy Spirit could be quite uplifting in more ways than one.

Whilst we were having tea tonight, The Oldest Girl told me that I'm just like Baymax.  The Curate knew that I had already started writing this blog and referenced Baymax's appearance so he immediately tried to shush her.  She was somewhat taken aback and then she started to quote some of the things that Baymax says that remind her of mummy:



Maybe that's more what is meant by being "fearfully and wonderfully made"? Not just the exterior stuff but everything that can really make a difference.  The Oldest Girl doesn't care if my body isn't taut anymore but she does care about how I love her.

Or maybe that's still missing the point a bit? I have this huge debate about what I should do in terms of anything to do with my appearance.  As a Christian, should I spend money on having my haircut when I could give that money away to feed a starving family? What about spending money on makeup? Or clothes that look nice but are more expensive than ones that could keep me just as warm? At what point do we decide that it is or isn't OK to do something about our appearance? Because it seems to me that how we look isn't a factor in the grand scheme of eternal life.

And that is the real point of that verse about being fearfully and wonderfully made.  It has nothing to do with appearance.  The emphasis isn't even on us as human beings at all if you read the whole verse:



The emphasis is on praising God.  Being fearfully and wonderfully made isn't about me and my body.  It's about God's work being wonderful.  It's about the awesomeness of God, not me.  Think about it like this: I have a few friends who are brilliant artists.  I do not go around showing off their work with giving them credit.

Maybe if I stop thinking so much about myself when I look at my body and think more about my creator then I will feel a bit more "fearfully and wonderfully made"? And whatever way you look at it, my body may not look totally awesome anymore but it did grow five babies and that in itself is pretty awesome.

Let's talk about sex, Baby

Why don't Christian women talk about sex? (Yes, I'm really going there.)



OK, I know that some women choose not to talk about it because they believe that it should remain a private topic between husband and wife in honour of the sanctity of marriage.  And I'm not so naive as to discount how difficult the topic can be for women who are survivors of sexual abuse and certain words could trigger horrific memories.

But, other than that, why don't Christian women talk about sex?

I can remember being told about sex for the first time as a response to my question 'where do babies come from?' As a parent myself it seems like a fair time to bring the subject up.  After all, I'm not expecting our children to start asking deep and meaningful questions about how we celebrate the intimacy of our marriage.  But I'm not convinced that I will only be discussing the biology of procreation when I discuss sex with our children.  Let's face it, the number of times a couple has sex to make a baby is a relatively small proportion of the thousands of sexual acts that will occur during a lifetime of marriage.  We may have five children but we have had sex a lot more than five times!

Right now I'm sat here cringing because my mum and my brother read this blog and I'm talking about sex.   I've just admitted that we have sex for pleasure.  Out loud.  On the internet... Oh, the shame! And there it is.  The shame.  Why is it that I feel shame when talking about sex with my husband whom I have been married to for nearly 12 years? The world knows that we have sex.  The five children are a bit of a giveaway.  I have a theory about the shame.  As Christians, we spend all of our pre-married life learning that sex is bad, it is not for us, it is shameful, we will not do it... and then we get married.  With a flick of a switch, we are supposed to shake off years of linking sex with shame.

A few weeks ago I joined in with an online discussion amongst Christian women about 'how much sex do you have?' Aye, aye, I thought.  We don't normally talk about sex, but, this woman had been brave and even explained her reasons for asking the question.  I decided to honour her bravery by giving her an honest answer.  We chatted a bit and she was very grateful.  Other women were not so happy with me.  It was like I had broken the unspoken rule that "we do not talk about sex".  My response was frowned upon because it was honest.  Only one other woman answered the question directly.  Every other woman found a way to skirt around the subject and justify themselves.  How sad, I thought, that we cannot even support someone by having an open discussion (on a closed forum) about sex.  I was even more shocked by one person's response that I should feel. at best secretive, at worst ashamed of my answer.

We either believe the Bible or we don't, right? And if we are struggling with something then it can be a good idea to share that with a trusted friend or two, right? Except when it comes to sex.  We seem so focused on teaching about the negative side of sex that we don't teach about the positives.  I can't remember the last time that I heard any good teaching on sex outside of a national conference with a female Christian 'sexpert' speaking.  And I don't think that I can ever remember having a conversation with another Christian woman about any positive to do with sex outside of general 'I'm pregnant' discussions.  How do we expect our daughters to grow up with a healthy understanding of sex and their bodies if we only ever talk about the bio-mechanics and attach negatives to the act? How do we expect our daughters to come and talk to us if we give them the idea that sex is shameful and load guilt upon them before they've even had sex?

I know that in the next year or so I will be starting to talk about sex with our eldest daughter (I have no idea how I have survived parenting to already be at THAT stage).  Whilst I will talk to her about eggs, sperm and implantation, I will also speak to her about desire, pleasure and intimacy.  I have no idea how I'm going to do it yet (let's face it, I didn't exactly plan the chat about periods, boobs and body hair that came from nowhere one day) but with the grace of God, I will talk her through God's brilliant plan for sex in a way that she isn't threatened by it.

I also hope that The Church will wake up and realise that it is threatening generations of marriage because it doesn't teach about sex well, or if it does then it happens once in a blue moon.  During the past five years, I have probably heard teaching about the book of Philemon more often than I've heard any Christian teaching about sex.  And if the church won't support women in this Christian taboo subject, then women are going to have to work out how to talk to each other about sex.  Honestly.  Without judgement.  If we can't even talk about sex then how can we ever have hope of dealing with even more complicated issues like mental wellbeing?

Here is a really good article entitled 'Why Christian Women Need to Talk About Sex'.  If I haven't already persuaded you that this is an issue worth engaging with and conquering then this counsellor might just make you reconsider.

Time for everything

"It's time" I said as I nudged The Curate (in his pre-curate days) and tried to wake him up.  He rolled over.  I nudged him a little harder.  "No, really, it's time to go to the hospital.  You have to wake up the baby's coming!"



As a mother of five, I'm a bit obsessed with time.  I do not like to be late for anything and that can be quite difficult when coordinating leaving the house.  Someone always has a last minute need for something vital like a trip to the loo, a hat or dolly who may currently be naked but must be in a nappy, a baby grow and swaddled in the correct blanket unless I wish to hear screaming and sobbing throughout the entire school run.

I never have enough hours in the day.  I'm often asked how I fit everything in or how do I find the time to do x, y and z.  Well, as this blog is testament to, sometimes I let the non-essential things take a backseat for a while.  Sometimes I focus on the time dependent stuff first (like getting out the house on time for school) and leave other important stuff as a second priority (like getting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher).  Sometimes I stay up late writing essays whilst the house is peaceful.  When I get to the stage that the baby sleeps through (we're not there yet with number five) I try and get up before the children do to get everything set for the day and to get my head organised.  But no matter how organised I am, time always seems to spiral out of control.



Time is a funny thing.  We never seem to have enough of it and yet we can be masters of wasting time.  And then one day, it's gone.  And yet it carries on for everyone else.  I've finally finished watching the final episode of Call The Midwife and was particularly struck by the funeral scene.  I found myself pondering 'how do I want people to remember me when my time is up?' And even more specifically 'how do I want our children to remember me?' I guess a lot of that depends on how I use my time.



I get a little fed up of seeing loads of memes and other parenting advice on how to use my time as a parent.  You may have come across the poems 'Dust if you must' and 'Slow down mummy'.  They really annoy me.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for playing with our children and can totally see the value of a bit of puddle splashing or mess making.  But, I also like healthy children and that involves a fair amount of cleaning.  What is important to me is that all of the children will remember that mummy was there when they needed me.  Mummy listened.  Mummy spent time with me.  Mummy cared.  Mummy loved me.  But, how do I achieve that with a limited amount of time?



It's all about choices.  This Lent I have chosen to not waste so much time on certain things so that I can concentrate more on God.  I think that I'm also concentrating far more on other important things too, especially important people.  I'm not convinced that Lent is a long enough season for me to fully work that one out but I am managing to deal with the temptation to waste time on the internet far better (who knew that having a phone that can do pretty much anything for you could ruin your life?!).  I'm still not a Pinterest mum.

The other day, a friend of mine made me laugh so much when she said that she would love to sit playing with her children all day (with their handmade wooden toys and organic edible paints made from vegetables grown on the allotment) but she doesn't have time because she has other stuff that needs doing as well.  I loved her just a little bit more for summing up my mummy guilt in such a tongue-in-cheek way.  I want to do loads of stuff that I aspire to as a mum or a wife but instead I end up feeling guilty when I'm not sat reading books with my children all day (because there's no app to replace your lap) and I do other stuff instead.

I've discovered that they way to deal with this mummy guilt is to try and find some balance.



Time also gives us lots of opportunities.  If we are gifted with today then we can choose how we use it.  Sit looking at FaceBook catching up with friends? Maybe that can wait until the children are in bed.  Pretend to be 'The Hood' from Thunderbirds for a few minutes instead of walking past my son's bedroom door and hurrying on with laundry? Sure! Clean behind the toilet whilst The Toddler asks what I'm doing? Well, yes, because it needs to be done and The Toddler doesn't like being ill.  Sit down with a cup of tea for a few minutes and just let myself be? Definitely! Everyone needs to recharge their batteries.

There are a few things that I specifically do as a Christian in terms of time management that I believe helps me.  The first is to prioritise spending some time with God each day reading my Bible and praying.  Why? Because it changes me.  It refocuses me on God and how He sees the world rather than my stressed-out-mum point of view.  Also, He gave me time so I spend some time thanking God for, well, pretty much anything.  The Bible teaches us to 'seek first his kingdom and his righteousness' so I try to have this time with God early in the day.  It doesn't always work out like that though.  The Bible also speaks about being wise in how we spend our time and making the most of every opportunity so I try to do that.  The other major thing that I do is to pray specifically about things as they crop up during the day and ask for guidance/wisdom on what to do.  No-one likes wasting their time and if I can do things God's way it seems to me that I haven't wasted my time. So if I have a little voice in my head telling me that now is my opportunity to play dollies and have a moment with The Toddler then I take that opportunity.  If I feel that God is prompting me to let the children play happily whilst I clear up the breakfast bowls then I'm grateful for that moment.

I do still stress about time.  Quite a lot actually.  Maybe it goes with the territory of having five children? It's at this point that I remember one of my favourite Bible verses:



I'm going to have to ask you to be patient with me over the next few weeks.  I have another essay to write (this is a short term so deadlines are close together) and I would like to stay vaguely sane.  My blog writing may continue to be sporadic.  I only have so many hours in the day and whilst I love writing, I also love sleep.

And on that note, it's time for bed...

Five things not to say to a mother of a large family

I don't think it's possible for me to walk down the street with all five children without someone making a comment.  This is my little gift for mothers of large families who are on the receiving end of such thoughtless comments (and a little bit of fun because it's Saturday night and I'm home alone - sob!).

#1 You've got your hands full



Please don't say this to any mother.  Ever.  I have a rude retort that stays in my head when I hear this comment.  That's because I have a filter between my brain and my mouth.  You do not need to state the obvious.  I think that I'm allowed to laugh at you if I'm wearing the baby and therefore do not have anything in my hands at all.  But, more than anything else, this comment generally undermines my confidence as a mother.  If my children are playing up, I'm pretty busy dealing with them and do not need to divert my attention to you.  If they are behaving well then I'm wondering why you made the comment.  It's just one of those ridiculous things that people say because they have an overwhelming urge to express surprise at the size of our family.  The best advice I can give you here if you ever want to say this is - keep it in your head.  It is not helpful.  If you really must say something then you can always go for a cheesy 'what a lovely brood' or something else that acknowledges the size of the family without calling my parenting skills in to question.

#2 Are they all yours?



First of all, do you realise how rude it is to ask a stranger that question when you have no idea what the answer is going to be? What if I tell you that half of them are my late brother's children who I have taken in? OK, so he doesn't have any children and he's thankfully not dead, but you don't know what a strangers circumstances might be! For all you know, I could be infertile but looking after a friend's children.  That question could be really painful to have to answer.  Again, it's probably better that you keep that question in your head.  It really isn't any of your business and doesn't affect you.  And, yes, our family is larger than the 'normal' two children and that may be surprising for you, but it's still pretty rude to comment like that!

#3 I don't know how you do it



For the record this picture is definitely not 'how I do it'.  This one is a bit of pet hate of mine.  Just because I have five children, doesn't make me some sort of uber parent.  I really don't like people looking up to me because of the size of our family.  I also don't like the implied comparison that always goes along with this comment.  The chances are that some things in my parenting are not up to the same standard that they were when we only had two children.  There are only so many hours in the day (please don't think that I feel guilty though because the children have the benefits of being in a large family as well as the negatives).  I guess the other reason that I don't like this comment is because I never know how to respond.  I don't entirely know how I do it either but if you really want to know how I have to keep a regimented diary and corresponding calendar or how I use the slow cooker to cope with all the after school clubs then it is probably better to ask for specifics.

#4 Have you worked out what's causing it?



You really want to go there? Let me point out to you that you are basically asking about our sex life and/or our contraceptive choices.  I think the fact that we have five children proves that we have worked out exactly what is causing it, thank you very much.

#5 Are you having any more?



OK, so there's a few more than five children there.  Let's think this one through for a moment.  I wouldn't ask any of my mummy friends this question unless a) they are my best friend or b) we are having a conversation about having more children.  I certainly wouldn't ask a random person in the street.  Also, as a mother of five children, I like having a large family and I have a very strong hormonal urge every single month to have more babies.  That is just how I am.  At some point we all have to stop having more children.  For some people that is a relief, for others there is a grieving process to go through as a stage of life ends.  So, this question is not only rude it is insensitive too.  Plus we're back at the point that you are basically asking if we are using reliable contraception or not and asking that is just plain wrong.

What do I say?

Saying nothing is always an option.  Or how about saying something positive or encouraging? Even an encouraging smile can go a long way.  As a general rule of thumb, don't say something to a mother of a large family that would be rude to say to a mother of one or two children.  It is still rude to say it to someone who has lots of children. If all else fails and you have an overwhelming urge to state the obvious, you can always be very British and comment on the weather instead.

I'm sure I never asked for that

I had a nice surprise the other day.  It wasn't a great parking space.  It wasn't a chocolate cake.  I'm not pregnant again (at least one of you was thinking that...)

I was due to have a tutorial next week but The Curate is going to be away and that presents all sorts of practical problems, not to mention that I will be even more tired than I am normally.  On top of that I was a bit stressed about writing my presentation for it when I've only just stopped chasing my tail after submitting my last essay.  This week my tutor announced that he was unable to attend so we rearranged it for the following week.  The pressure is off in so many ways.  I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I am.

My first instinct was to pray "thank you Lord for answering my prayers" but then I realised that I hadn't prayed about it.  Even though I was feeling really stressed I had forgotten to pray about it.  Or had I?

Pete Greig (the founder of 24-7 Prayer) has this theory that everyone prays.  You know when you are desperate and in your head you start saying "oh please, please don't let x, y, and z happen", well that is a prayer that you are just flinging out there, even if you aren't directing it at God.

‘Even non-Christians pray. The difference when Christians do it is that they are climbing into the lap of their heavenly Father.” Pete Greig, Red Moon Rising

I started to wonder if I had prayed about my tutorial.  I certainly had wished that I could have the tutorial the following week.  And as a Christian I do direct my wishes towards God because I believe that He is the only one with power to answer my prayers.

On this occasion I had a 'yes' from God.  I probably would have been a lot less stressed about the whole situation if I had purposefully sat down and prayed about it.  At least then I would have known that I had given the whole thing to God and acknowledged that He was in control anyway.  I always feel more peaceful about situations that feel overwhelming when I have prayed about them.  Well, hindsight is a wonderful thing.  But, I was still left wondering 'what constitutes prayer'?



We used to sing this song at toddler church that went "prayer is like a telephone for us to talk to Jesus" (for the record, it is an incredibly annoying song and I have no plans to introduce it to toddler group any time soon).  But prayer is more than just a conversation with God, it's an act of faith.  When we pray, we are trusting that God is listening and will respond.  I know that lots of my atheist friends believe that answered prayer is just a coincidence and doesn't involve God.  J. John has a great way of looking at that issue.  Watch this funny clip to find out what cute little kittens have to do with prayer and coincidences.

I don't know about you, but I'm happy to have the coincidences in my life.  The more I pray, the more coincidences there are.

Back to my question 'what constitutes prayer'? Well, there is obviously the closed eyes, hands clasped, talking directly to God type of prayer.  On this occasion, I hadn't done that.  But there is also contemplative prayer and meditative prayer, for example.  Well, I definitely have been engaging in meditative prayer.  I'm not especially loving my meditation sessions because I'm not pouring everything out to God or even saying thank you to Him.  But maybe my choice to use 'Jesus' as an 'anchor word' is enough.  Just acknowledging that Jesus is in control is all that I need to do.  Even if I'm not speaking out the issues that are on my heart, that doesn't mean God doesn't know about them.

I'm not sure that I have fully worked out what counts as praying yet.  And if I'm honest, I'm not a fan of being told 'no' (AKA "I have something better in mind") because I don't understand God's plan.  What I do know is that God is listening, He does care and He does answer prayers because He loves us.

I'm a mummy on the edge

Today was going really well.  The Three Big Kids were at school and The Toddler was at preschool.  The Curate had a day off so we took The Baby for a walk from White Moss around Grasmere.  I was pretty pleased that I had managed to walk somewhere in the region of 4-5 miles with 8+kg of baby on my back.  The scenery was beautiful and there's nothing like a good dose of fresh air (plus it wasn't raining - always a bonus around here).  After lunch at the garden centre, it was time to head home for the afternoon pick ups.

So far, so good.  One child compared to five is a walk in the park.  All was well until it turned out that today was the day to come home from school and preschool feeling grumpy.  I fed them.  They were still grumpy.  I listened to them.  They were still grumpy.  Cuddles? No good.  Then The Curate took the two biggest girls to their violin lessons.  I thought that things would improve.  I was wrong.  The Baby started joining in with the grumpiness having been happy all day.  We had now officially entered Suicide Hour and, well, as the name suggests things weren't about to get any better.  The following definition of Suicide Hour is taken from this blog:

Suicide hour: That hour as you’re busy cooking dinner, the children are hungry and tired and no one seems able to do anything on their own without help.

It normally involves frequent whining, a couple of tantrums and an urge to throw yourself off a bridge. Or time out everybody while you finish cooking. Or time out yourself and let everyone else fend for themselves.

Also known as Arsenic Hour, The Witching Hour and Please Everyone, Just Go Away and Let Me Cook Dinner Alone Hour.

Disastrously things didn't even improve with small tummies being filled with macaroni cheese.  Desperate times call for desperate measures and The Curate had ignored my SOS text for Valium and/or horse tranquilisers.  So, at The Biggest Girl's suggestion, I found The Epic Horn Guy on YouTube and played it until The Baby laughed.  I may also have watched some Veggietales Silly Songs with some small people (specifically this one and this one),

If you are hoping for something vaguely holy or inspiring today then I'm sorry.  My brain may be capable of turning out first class theological essays but today it has been turned to mush by all of the whining.



And that about sums up my day.

Plan B

Sometimes life doesn't go as we plan.  We don't learn resilience when plan A works out.  In fact, I'm not sure that we learn much when plan A works out, except maybe how to plan something and follow through on that plan. But, let's face it, there's more to life than following through on a plan.



A few months ago, I was talking to a very wise Rev who said that the only worthwhile lessons he'd learned in life were from the hard lessons.  In other words, we don't learn much about life or ourselves when life is easy.  But when life is hard, we grow and learn skills for the future.  We become more resilient or learn new tactics for dealing with difficult situations.  When plan A doesn't work out and we have to resort to plan B (or even plan C, D or E), life becomes harder, sometimes unbearably hard.

When people are having a hard time, Christians are often quick to trot out the phrase "God never gives you more than you can handle".  Sometimes you might even hear Christians follow that comment up with something like "you are going through such a hard time at the moment but God knows just how strong you are and that you can cope with it".  Right? Total and utter nonsense!



The ridiculous notion that God will not let us go through something that will absolutely break us comes from a misunderstanding of 1 Corinthians 10:13 which says "No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted,he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it" (NIV).  The phrase "He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear" is not the same as "He will not give you more than you can handle".  The verse is referring to how we deal with temptation.  When we are faced with more than we can handle, it is not always because we gave in to temptation.  But, when we are faced with more than we can handle, we have a choice - we can follow God or we can give in to temptation to follow a different path.  I can see why people want to make the leap from "He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear" to "He will not give you more than you can handle" but that just paints a false image of God.

So, what do we know about God and His part in our life when it is all falling apart around us? I've said it before, and I'll say it again - God is inherently good.  I know it's tempting to think of God as bad when we see the suffering all around us.  That is another blog (or ten) for another day.  The Bible also tells us that God will never leave nor forsake (abandon) us:



So, the Bible promises that God is with us whenever we are handling the hard stuff.  Sometimes I think "that's great God, now do something!".  If God is all-powerful, good and loves me then why do I have to go through any of the hard stuff? Again, that is a blog for another day.  What I will say, is that sometimes I need to grow, learn a new skill, or change in some way and if God jetted in and solved all my issues in some supernatural way then I will always be in a place in life that feels overwhelming.

One last warning about another misrepresented Bible verse that we hear when we are struggling... Ever heard "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me"? It is a quote from the Bible (Philippians 4:13), not a misquote like the "God will never give you more than you can handle" thing.  But it really winds me up when I hear Christians misusing and abusing this verse.  The person who wrote it was having a terrible time.  But, he was suffering because of the work he was doing for God and was continuing to seek God's will so that he did not give in to the temptation of an easy way out.  He was not struggling to navigate Tesco with five small children or anything else that makes me want to repeat the Bible verse under my breath.  I'm not saying that God doesn't strengthen us or that he can't make all things possible.  What I am saying, is that God has the big picture and sometimes I can't do something, not because God isn't strong enough or my faith isn't good enough, but because it's not part of God's big plan.  I can't just waltz through life quoting that Bible verse whenever I want God's supernatural strength to get through something hard.

Which brings me to the point of me writing this blog post today.  You could be forgiven for thinking that I must be having a terrible time at the moment or feeling overwhelmed with life.  Life isn't exactly easy but I'm not having a particularly hard time right now.  I do, however, need to start following plan B for Lent.  Things haven't exactly gone to plan so far.  Illness and essay writing have had a hand in derailing my plans.  But, if I'm really honest, I'm giving in to temptation as well.  OK, so taking a peek on FaceBook whenever a post a blog post isn't that bad.  But then leaving the FaceBook page open on my phone and 'accidentally' taking another peek, and then another peek and then maybe another really quick scroll through isn't part of my Lent plans.  There is a reason for me withdrawing from FaceBook for a while and I'm not going to gain anything if I keep having a 'quick peek'.  I've been a bit slack with some of my other Lent plans as well.  I shall be holding on to the last part of 1 Corinthians 10:13 (quoted above) that says "But when you are tempted,he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it".

It is time for plan B.  Plan B is to do what I should have done for Lent.  So I have put FaceBook Pages on my phone and will be able to post a link to new blog posts on there without seeing anything else on FaceBook.  I will also be cutting out some things from my diet.  I am not thrilled about this and may become grumpy.  I apologise now.  My blood sugars are the worst they have been for a long time and I'm not mad-keen on re-starting insulin (although that may be inevitable and nothing to do with my diet).  What does this have to do with Lent? Well, if my body is a 'temple' for God then I have a duty to look after it.  Apparently my pancreas is going through more than it can handle so I should at least do something to try and help it.  I shall also generally be making more of an effort to concentrate on my other Lent plans rather than being so easily distracted.  I'll let you know how it goes...


Funny moment of the day - When I came out with the phrase "Who's for tea or coffee?" earlier to some friends, the toddler didn't miss a beat and replied "not me".  I think this may be one of those funny moments when you had to be there, but on the off-chance that you might be sat there laughing now, I thought it was worth sharing.  I'm nice like that ;-)

Feel the fear...

When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark.  I can remember waking my mum up multiple times one night but not being able to explain what I was afraid of.  Next to my bed was a massive teddy.  It was moving.  OK, so it wasn't really moving but in the shadows, it looked like it was moving.  I was so scared that I couldn't explain to my mum what was wrong.  All I knew was that when she came, the light went on and the bear stopped moving.

My fear of the dark continued but as I got older, I developed this fear that monsters were on the carpet.  They couldn't get me as long as I was on my bed.  My foot could not hang out of the bed otherwise they would get me.  If I needed the loo in the middle of the night, I would run and use the biggest stride length that I could so that my feet touched the floor as few times as possible in case the monsters grabbed me by the ankle.  I never wanted to go back to bed because I would have to do the whole thing in reverse but include a leap on to the bed and tuck myself in as fast as was physically possible.

As an adult, my fear of the dark seems quite ridiculous.  Whilst my adult perspective is great for childhood fears, with adulthood comes adult sized problems and adult sized fears.

We had a guest preacher at church today who told us the story of an elderly lady whom he knew when he was a curate.  She never accepted a lift home after helping out at events.  One day he finally asked her why she didn't accept a lift and asked her if she was scared when walking home.  Her reply was "of course I'm scared, but I would never be able to do anything if I didn't face my fears".  She didn't want to give in to that fear because she knew that life would be so much worse if she stayed at home all the time becoming evermore fearful of the big, bad world.  The preacher's point was that we should not let our fears stop us from doing what we are supposed to do, what we are called to do.

This really made me think.  What am I afraid of? What fears are holding me back?

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light" Plato

I think Plato had a point.  Sometimes I wonder if children are afraid of the dark because they can sense that evil lurks there.  I'm just about to start reading for an essay that has to explore the symbolism of light and dark in John's gospel.  For as long as I can remember, darkness has been a Bad Thing.  But, as Plato said, it is a real tragedy when what we are afraid of is the light.  For me, light is synonymous with Jesus and goodness.  Whilst following Jesus can be comforting, I often find that this happens:



Jesus seems to be very skilled at directing me out of my comfort zone.  But, I wouldn't be showing much faith if all I ever did was stay in my comfort zone.  I have this theory that whenever I'm doing something that God has asked me to do, I know that it's one of those things because I find it equally terrifying and exhilarating.  Maybe that's just me.  I  love theme parks and rock climbing for the same reason.  When I'm at theme parks or rock climbing, I put my trust in the safety equipment.  It's the same principle with following Jesus.  I put my trust in Him.

But I'm not convinced that faith is the opposite of fear.  Love is.  I don't trust my own faith when I'm praying over big decisions.  I trust that God loves me.  I can either be paralyzed by fear or I can choose to trust that God loves me and follow Him.

I'm still pondering what fears I might be holding on to.  If I'm honest, I'm not sure that I want to work it out because then I'll have to face those fears and trust that God REALLY loves me.  I haven't quite worked out yet why I'm a bit fearful of totally trusting an inherently good God.  Maybe it's because I'm a control freak? Maybe that's the fear that I need to let go of?


In other news, I managed to write my essay and hand it in on time.  I have no idea how I managed that one.  I wrote a 2500 word essay in one day.  I'm not expecting to get a good mark but at least I managed to submit it on time despite the horrors of the bug and the ambulance trip.

The meditation experiment is going better than expected.  Having changed my 'anchor word' (apparently this is the Christian meditation name for a mantra) to 'Jesus', I am finding that I enjoy some of the stillness and not-doing.  I still find reading my Bible to be more grounding/comforting/Spiritually connecting but I quite like being able to meditate just to prove that I can shut up when I want to.

You also need to know that I am now deeply worried about my subconscious.  I had a dream.  Let's just say that it involved a cheeky talking dinosaur called Bert.  Bert liked to eat semi rotten food and ran off to find some mushrooms.  I'm not sure why I chased after him to try and look after him given that he was more work than all five kids put together.  He liked to have cuddles and was particularly jealous of the baby.  My brain must have been feeling deeply traumatised to have dreamed that one up.  I think that it was a cry for help.  Or chocolate.  Probably chocolate...

Beige and boring or a risky business?

I have a friend who wasn't sure that she could become a Christian until she met me (ha! God has a sense of humour!).  She wasn't sure that she wanted to become a Christian if it meant that she had to become a bit, well... beige and boring.  Then she met me and my purple boots and decided that if I could be a Christian then so could she.  Alas! The purple boots are no more (although I do still preach in knee high boots).  The thing is, being a Christian is not about being beige and boring.  It's not about being comfortable.  It does involve being daring and taking risks.

This video by Simon Guillebaud explains what it means to follow Jesus better than anything else I've ever come across except, perhaps, the Bible (which Simon draws on throughout the video):

3 Seconds


What is life all about? Is it about safely navigating our way to death?

I don't know about you but that doesn't figure high on my list of life goals.

(By the way, I did achieve one of my life goals on Sunday.  I preached from a pulpit.  I do realise that I now seem far less rock 'n' roll but I don't care.  The only thing that normally gets in the pulpit at our church is the birthday cakes for our All Age services.  I hope that my sermon was worth more than 12 cupcakes...)

In the book "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" there is a discussion about whether Aslan is safe.



I don't know about you, but I find the idea of God not being safe and following Him being a risky business to be a bit too technicolour for comfort.  All of a sudden the idea of being a beige and boring Christian is that bit more appealing.  But God doesn't ask Christians to hide away or to blend in.  He asks us to trust that He is good and to follow Him.  That's when the adventure begins.  That's the point when eternal life begins.  As Simon Guillebaud says, "we're all immortal until He calls us home".


PS if you want to support the awesome work of Simon Guillebaud and Great Lakes Outreach in Burundi then please go here or you can read more about Simon here.

PPS I don't intend to write a blog post for a few days as I need to finish writing an essay and I need a bit of space to process my Lenten journey rather than keep on thinking about what to write!

PPPS I'm still trying to meditate.  I'll update you on how that is going soon.

PPPPS The baby ate some rocky road.  I'm not sure that I need to say any more...

Do you like you?

I came across this beautiful song and I'm not sure that I can write a blog to do it justice (but I'll have a go!).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXoZLPSw8U8

The song is called 'Try' by Colbie Caillat.  You can see why it won an MTV award for best video with a social message.

Apparently Colbie Caillat was so fed up of being photoshopped that she wrote this song.  I can't even begin to imagine the immense pressure that she is under to look a certain way in order to gain acceptance.

Throughout the video, the women featured remove their makeup to reveal their natural beauty.  This struck a chord with me.  I rarely wear makeup these days.  I don't have the time to faff about with it so it is only on special occasions that the makeup comes out.  I can remember reading in a magazine years ago that women who wear a modest amount of makeup to a job interview are more likely  to get the job than someone who is wearing no makeup at all or someone who has it plastered on.  I think it's pretty sad not only that this is presumably true, but that a magazine would advise women that they need to wear the right amount of makeup to get a dream job.  There are no words that could express how I feel about that.

And yet when it came to our eldest girl going to her 'junior disco' the other evening, I helped her to apply a little makeup for the first time ever.  The curate was horrified.  I can see his point of view.  She is only 8 (although far more mature both in looks and wisdom) and that is young for makeup.  So, why did I do it? First of all, it was her choice.  Secondly I don't want makeup to become a 'thing'.  If it is forbidden then it will most certainly become a 'thing'.  I also want her to learn that even just a little make up can be fun.  I want her to feel confident enough about her body that she can choose whether she adds some makeup for a special night out, or not.  I also don't want her to label a woman as 'tarty' or anything else derogatory because of the amount of makeup that she wears.  Above all, I want our daughters all to learn that wearing makeup or not is a choice that only they can make for themselves.  We already teach them about having a beautiful heart and try to make sure that they feel loved as they are.

Going back to the song, there is a lyric that says "when you're all alone, by yourself, do you like you?".  Wow.  There in that one sentence was a question that we should all be asking ourselves.  Just think about it for a minute.  It's not asking 'do you accept you?' or 'do you want to be you?'  When you are not thinking about how other people see you and look at yourself honestly, do you like you?

I was reminded of a book by a lady called Arianna Walker called Mirror Image.  In the book she tells the story of a 17 year old woman who was suffering with an eating disorder.  Whenever this woman looked in the mirror, she hated what she saw.  Her description of herself was "I look in the mirror and see a fat, ugly girl who is worthless and deserves to die".  Her pain is immense.  Not only does she not like how she looks but she feels worthless and not that she wants to die but actually deserves to die.  Arianna Walker goes on to explain that in that moment she heard God whispering to her through the Holy Spirit "Tell her that she is looking in the wrong mirror".

I wonder how many of us are looking in the wrong mirror? How many of us look in the mirror and don't like the person looking back?

My story isn't so dissimilar to that young woman who saw a 'worthless' reflection.  It wasn't until I was 19 and heard someone tell me all about how Jesus loved me as I was, not as I could be that I started to learn to like myself.  I am a perfectionist by nature and that isn't healthy.  The bar is always set too high no matter what is being measured.  Learning that God loved me and accepted me in my imperfect state meant that I started to like me.  I stopped sabotaging my own life when I learnt what it meant to be loved unconditionally by Jesus.  I was heading down a very different path and I don't like to think how my life would be now if someone hadn't explained God's love to me.  Before that I thought that I couldn't go to God until I was acceptable or holy in some way.  If God only loved 100%  holy people then heaven would be a very lonely place.

Going back to that song... When you're all alone, by yourself, do you like you? Because God loves you xxx

Busy, busy, busy

Busy has become a swear word in Christian and secular culture recently.  That makes me want to scream!

I am busy.

I'm OK with that.

Let me explain...

Our life is full.  You probably don't want to imagine what life is like with five children and a Rev for a husband.  Today should have been the Curate's day off.  He only gets one day off each week.  He worked.  It doesn't happen all the time but it does happen.  He had a funeral today and he has an essay due in imminently.  I also have an essay due in very soon.

Lent is supposed to be a time of making space, taking stock and prioritising just being in the presence of God.  I have started to read a book today that I think turns this idea on it's head.  Instead of only seeking God in the quiet, there is an encouragement to seek God in the busy and the doing as well.

The Curate and I have had to work out that we have a limit to the amount of stuff that we can do.  We can be negative-busy, or positive-busy.  By that I mean we can be overwhelmed and ineffective or we can make some decisions, prioritise, drop a few things and do the rest well.  Both options involve being busy, but one is healthy.  We have also learnt that scheduling in rest is a good idea.  I know that I get lazy if I don't work out time to rest and purposefully use that time to relax.  Maybe that sounds odd but I find that I don't want to get up and do the things that I need to do if I don't work in sufficient rest because I get tired and ineffective.

The other thing that really annoys me about busy being a negative status is the idea that busy people are seen as unapproachable.  I don't find that people have a problem with asking me or the Curate for help or counsel.  Maybe it's because they know that we will drop everything if they are having a crisis or we will schedule in a time to meet with them uninterrupted by small people if they can wait.  I can't help but wonder if being approachable doesn't have anything to do with how busy you are.

There are two things that people say to me all the time.  The first is "are they all yours?" and the second is "I don't know how you do it".  I have a range of stock answers for the first question depending on my mood.  As for the second statement, let me say something to you with all the love that I possibly can show on a blog - "stop judging me by your standards".  I promise you that I mean this with love, not judgement.  The thing is, you look at my life through the lens of your life.  You already have a load of stuff to deal with.  When you look at my life, you don't put that stuff down.  If I looked at my life from your point of view, I wouldn't know how I do it either.  But my life is not your life.  I don't have your stuff to deal with, only mine.  So, please, stop judging yourself when you look at me and stop judging me by your standards.  And for my sake, please will people stop projecting their ideas of busy on to my life?!


And just in case this post hasn't made you laugh, here's a few things that I have learnt over the past 24 hours:

Kneeling on a duplo brick whilst crawling across the floor REALLY hurts.  It is as bad as treading on proper lego.  And apparently our big boy has no compassion - "you should have looked where you were crawling, mummy!".  I'm hoping that I don't sound like that when he gets hurt.

Taking medication to help you sleep and stop you coughing is great... until the baby wakes up in the middle of the night and has a poo! Seriously.  In the middle of the night is not normal and doing so on a night when mummy is drugged up is just rude.

I must be starting to get a little better.  I know this because I shaved my legs in the shower for the first time in too long.  You clearly needed to know that.  Well, I did promise that I would keep it real.

It's all so quiet. Shh! Shhhhhhhh!

Listen to that... That, my friends, is the sound of my sanity returning.  That is the sound of three children going to school and one to preschool.  And do you know what? The baby smiled.  A totally unprovoked smile (well, actually he farted and thought it was funny).  That means that the baby may finally be recovering from the horrors of THE BUG.  I have no idea how my big boy recovered from the horror of THE BUG in record time but I'm putting it down to prayer.  Lots and lots of prayer.

So what did I do with my new-found peace and (almost) quiet? Did I clean the house? Nope.  Did I tackle laundry mountain? Nope.  Did I sit and eat chocolate? Nope.  Well, actually, yes, I did.  But not until I had done three other special things for Lent.

I fasted
I went to mid-week Holy Communion at church
I meditated

One of these has been known to happen before (the church one, every so often I sneak in with the baby for a Thursday service), the other two would make my mother fall off her perch if she knew (hi mum xxx).

Let me explain.  I don't do fasting or meditating.  They are both Spiritual things that other people do.  And yet,it is Lent so in the spirit of creating space for God I decided to try both and find out what the Spiritual experience was like.

I was a lightweight when it came to fasting and only skipped breakfast.  In my defense, I am still breastfeeding the baby and unwell so my decision was as much about being sensible as it was about being hungry.  Did fasting do anything to help my journey with God today? Yes, I think it did.  I had already decided that whenever I felt a hunger pang, I would pray.  I was pretty hungry so lots of praying happened.

But what about the meditation? Well, here's the thing.  We live pretty close to a large Buddhist community and they regularly run meditation workshops.  I have a number of friends who are interested in meditation and so I wanted to find out what the big deal was.  I'm also really intrigued by the brain science surrounding meditation.  So, I have decided to try meditation as a spiritual practice over the course of Lent.

There are a few things that I need to make clear at this point:

I will not be 'emptying my mind'
I will not be sitting cross-legged and saying 'ommmmm'
I will be trying a number of different Christian meditation practices
I will let you know how it is going every so often

I'm not going to explain these choices today, I'll save that for another post.  But today's experiment - how did it go?????

I may possibly have spent a little while examining the insides of my eyelids.  Sorry.  I feel like I've let the team down.  I was pretty tired having spent much of last night coughing, then writing a sermon, then coughing quite a lot more.

 I was supposed to pray a 'mantra' over and over again for 30 minutes.  I thought that I could try 10 minutes.  I managed to say the suggested mantra three times before I decided that I needed to change it.  The suggested mantra was 'maranatha' which is Aramaic for 'The Lord has come' or 'Come Lord' depending on how you translate it.  It felt ridiculous repeating a foreign word that scholars can't even agree on how it should be translated and this annoyed me (you can probably see why my meditation attempt failed today) so I ended up repeating 'Come Holy Spirit' instead.  Why did I say that? Well, for me, it is familiar, comfortable and safe.  I know that if I ask the Holy Spirit to come, I am not inviting any other spirits to fill my mind and body.  I'm not up for risking that.  I've seen the fall out from friends who have played with ouija boards.  Anyway, I digress.  After being filled with the sense of peace that the Holy Spirit brings, I fell asleep.  It was great! Exactly what I needed.

Maybe my first meditation experiment wasn't such a failure after all?

"No one has greater love than this..."

Finally, my friends, keep your minds on whatever is true, pure, right, holy, friendly, and proper. Don’t ever stop thinking about what is truly worthwhile and worthy of praise.  (Philippians 4:8 CEV)

Oh, yes! We were holy in the Curate's house yesterday.  The Bible tells us to fill our minds with whatever is holy so I decided that, as it was the start of Lent, we would watch Veggietales and other 'pure' TV.  OK, so I had a poorly boy off of school who loves Veggietales and it was the easiest way to get him to engage with the Bible story that our family Lenten activities are based on (more on that another time...)

But there's only so much Veggietales a mummy can watch in one day.  So, in the afternoon we snuggled up and watched The Velveteen Rabbit.  I've never seen the film before, nor read the book but I have read lots of quotes from the book:




The story is one of love and loss.  It is a very beautiful story.  Eventually the rabbit has to die because the little boy loved him so much.  But at this point the rabbit becomes real instead of a well-loved stuffed toy.

The story reminds me of a Bible quote:

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  (John 15:13 NIV)

When I started this blog, I promised you that I would be real.  But being real, becoming real, is a painful process.  When the Curate started his training we had to move 170 miles away from our home, friends and family.  I had to give up my job that I (mostly) loved, along with many other things.  It was a time of huge loss for me.  And then just I was getting comfortable, we moved another 170 miles further North.

Why did I do that? Why did I give up my whole life to become a Curate's wife? The answer is love.  I love God and promised to serve Him.  I love the Curate (and often serve him too!).  And I love the people of our parish (I hope that I serve them enough).

If there's one thing that I can promise you, it's that I am real.  I don't do fake.  I don't do false.  Does it hurt being real? Sometimes.  Do I mind? No.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

And so it begins...

Today's blog is brought to you by the power of paracetamol and tea.  This is important because I may be about to type a load of rubbish and that rubbish may include typos.  If that happens, it is obviously the quality of the tea that has let you down today and has absolutely nothing to do with what is in my brain.

Now that we've got an understanding going on, let's begin...

ARGH! Somebody took away my FaceBook and my Candy Crush (and Farm Heroes, Alphabetty Spaghetti, Othello.......) on a day when all I want to do is lounge on a sofa feeling poorly and pathetic whilst playing on my phone.  Not to mention that, finally, the previously-only-healthy-person-in-the-entire-universe-I-mean-household got THE BUG.  Why? Why would somebody deprive me of my little bit of escapism and sanity on a day like today? Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

Let's get one thing straight.  I love being a mum.  I have five children and in this day and age, having five children is a choice that is only made by people who enjoy parenting and are totally insane.  But, do you know what? Sometimes motherhood is a bit less Pinterest and a bit more Groundhog Day.  If you haven't experienced this you are either a) not a mother or b) let's not go there...

So, FaceBook, my dear friend.  You had to be sacrificed for Lent.

My problem with FaceBook is not an issue with self esteem (I don't care how many 'likes' my status gets) it's more an issue with time.  I get A LOT of notifications from FaceBook.  I love FaceBook for keeping in contact with people.  I got an account when we moved away from family and friends so that it was easy to stay in contact.  Having moved around a bit, I have a lot more FaceBook friends than I had ever anticipated having and some of them are, what I like to call, prolific posters.  I love keeping up with people's news.  It is hard work to maintain a network of friends as large as FaceBook facilitates.  But FaceBook is increasingly full of links to interesting reports, ridiculous 'tests', viral pictures and (in my case anyway) a huge number of pages that alert you to multiple posts per hour about reusable nappies and babywearing slings.   FaceBook sucks up my time faster than anything meaningful in my life.

And that's why FaceBook has been (almost) banished for Lent.  The only exceptions are for posting updates of this blog and accessing the Captivated Prayer group (because those ladies rock and they still deserve my prayers <3).

The problem with my attention and time being spent watching FaceBook is partly that my children are not getting the attention that they deserve.  Don't get me wrong, I will still occasionally go and lock myself in the loo for a bit of sanity or I'll sneak off to the kitchen for a brew/cuppa (depending on how far south you live).  But those things last a little while.  They are not a constant escapism in little, or sometimes large, chunks throughout the day.

The reflection for the day in my Lent Bible Study, was to choose something and give it my undivided attention for a few minutes.  I managed that a lot today.  It was much easier to do so without the distraction of FaceBook.  Apparently, I am experiencing an 'awakening of Spiritual consciousness'.  Well, I guess that's not a bad start to Lent...

So, here it is.  A shiny new blog.  All clean, neat and tidy...



And here I am...



We can do 'clean and tidy' in the curate's house if you give us enough notice.  But real life, uncensored life, is, well, it's messy and complicated.

Today I had one child off sick from school, another off from pre-school and a baby who I have to keep counting how fast he is breathing because he is sailing seriously close to the wind of needing to be re-admitted to hospital.  I bathed those three children after they finally ate their breakfast at 9am when their healthy siblings had gone to school with the curate.  I eventually got dressed myself about 2pm and that was only because I was worried that I might set the curate's dressing gown on fire whilst cooking pancakes (the baby was sick on mine last night).  You see, life is messy and complicated.

Today is Shrove Tuesday.  The day when we traditionally eat pancakes because they used to represent decadence and luxury.  Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday - the start of Lent.  Lent is supposed to be a time of showing that we are sorry for what we should not do, stopping indulging ourselves, praying, reflecting, fasting and generally drawing close to God in preparation for Easter.  It's a sort of Spiritual spring clean that is meant to cut through the messy and complicated life.

I've done all sorts of things for Lent in the past.  I've given up chocolate (that didn't help with Spiritual cleansing), I've given up FaceBook (that helped me to stop wasting time), I've prayed during night feeds for specific prayer requests (that one was pretty awesome as I saw lots of prayers answered and received visions from God) and one year I even gave up excess (that was challenging and very thought provoking).

But, what should I do this year? Well, I've got a few plans and I shall be blogging about them over the course of Lent.  As a family, we are going to do a Lent course about showing love in our neighbourhood (brace yourself for toddler homebaking...).  I also have a daily bible reading and prayer journal to help with my Spiritual overhaul.  I am not giving up chocolate.  No way.  Never. Ever. Again.  As for FaceBook, well, I plan to remove the app from my phone and only pop on when I publish a new blog.  Why? I think I'll save that for another blog.  Oh, and I shall be experimenting with Christian meditation.  Watch out for blog posts on that one too (and possibly total failure...).

I think that Lent this year is going to be a journey without Sat Nav style guidance.  It could go very, very wrong.  But then again, I may find something unexpected off the beaten track.

So, let's buckle up and enjoy the ride...