unmowngrass

So at dance class there was an incident last week -- normally someone turns round, partner drags the hand across the back and catches the other hand. I got turned the other way around and a hand dragged across the front. In what is referred to as "the slap zone". I spoke to one of the women leaders, who dragged in the man leader, who kept trying to tell me that 1) in dancing sometimes the partner is not where you expect and whoopsadaisy, accidental touching where it shouldn't be, and that's just life 2) they'd never had any complaints about this guy before (he's also team) and 3) to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Last night I spoke to guy concerned, the other two got dragged in, it did not go well. I ended up saying, bluntly, "either it happened on purpose, or it happened by accident, or I'm lying, those are the only options". And guy eventually said "if it happened by accident then I'm sorry", and I said, then let's put a line under it.

But here's the thing that I didn't end up saying yesterday... With one hand on my shoulder blade and the other holding mine up in the air somewhere, using the hand in the air to lead a turn (as in, to deliberately lead it, on purpose, as all the moves are deliberately led) to turn me anticlockwise so the hand on my left shoulder went across my body... that's not really accidental is it? How could it be?

It could maybe be unconscious, not thinking about it... It was so fast that I had to ask myself what just happened and why I was getting signals from body and then rewind and do the replay in my mind, so I completely get that it could have happened without conscious thought. But... that's not the same as point 1, is it? (And obviously with 2, that doesn't mean it didn't happen, and I did say that.) I do get point 1, it happens, and this wasn't it, although I think the "official version" that all the team will agree on is that that is what happened and I'm a naive idiot who doesn't know anything about dancing, and am also now known as a trouble maker.

But I didn't say that last night. I just said the three options thing. And I said, let's put a line under it. So I can't go back on that.

Which is why I'm writing about it. Leaving my testimony to the actual truth to be discovered and understood by whoever reads this, and for myself, so that my own perspective of what happened to me will not be erased. It's all I can do, I think.

In the spirit of, "this is a journalling website and therefore a journalling competition" (whoops, meta, sorry!), I present for your consideration an entry handwritten in my actual journal, with pictures and a transcript.

My entry used stickers with quotes and bible verses. Given I referenced these directly in the text, here is a handy list of them:
* "Grace" << with an arrow pointing to it
* "Peace on Earth" (there are two of these. it's doubly important)
* "Forgive"
* "For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose. ~ Ecclesiastes 3 v 1"
* "This is the day the LORD has made. ~ Psalm 118 v 24"

And then there are decorations, both stickers and highlighting a bit of the text. In yellow, blue and purple, if you must know. So, (imagine me reading this in my official voice, and), without further ado, Katie's journal:

~~~~~~~~~



2020
31st Jan

*doodle of EU flag*

Well, it's after midnight. Turned 1am, in fact. So it's really 1st Feb. Which means that the UK is now out of the European Union. People on facebook are celebrating. I am not. I'm sad.

I voted to remain, but it's not just that. I mean, it is partly that. Partly deep disappointment in my fellow Brits, not really for the way the vote when by itself, but for the reasons they went that way.

For example, I don't think very many people even thought to ask the question, "Is it better for Europe if we stay or leave?"Because they were only thinking about what (might) be better for Britain; better for themselves.

And that level of selfishness disappoints me greatly. So it is partly that. And of course, some of the sadness is self-interested, not being able to go to visit Rose or Anne-Marie as easily. Not having a family of nations to support and help us. But it's probably fine. It's not like it's forbidden now to go and visit Rose or Anne-Marie, it's just a bit more difficult.

BUT.

The real sadness, the real deflation comes because I have been praying since December 2018 that we would stay. And I thought we were going to, at



one point. "Brexit day" was supposed to be in March 2019, after all. In December 2018, not leaving seemed impossible.

Then we had a partial sea-change! And THREE supposed "Brexit Days" came and went -- March, June, October.

And then it all changed back... That's so frustrating!!

Definitely leaves me asking the question...

"God, aren't You bigger than the UK Government?? More powerful??"

And the answer, confoundingly, is, "Yes, but I'm choosing not to be. I'm choosing to work within the systems and the will of the people, and not to overrule them."

Which is great, and He is God and I'm not, so if that's what He chooses then so be it, but... it's still frustrating and sad!! Deflating.

Could we have persuaded Him to make a total sea-change rather than a partial one? Maybe.

If I'd prayed everyday, instead of only when I watched the news (once a week at best)? If I'd prayed with more faith, more belief, more imagination? Perhaps.

But now we're getting to the centre of the whole prayer mystery. The book of Revelation says that prayers fill up the bowls on the altar, and then tip over onto the Earth. Which means that there is a quantitative threshhold at which there is "enough" prayer. Whether that's enough repetitions (re-petitions) or just enough belief from the one time it was said, or what. And yet Jesus also says that we are not like the babbling pagans who expect to be heard



because of our many words, but just to pray simply and directly. It's confusing.

And why tell me a year in advance to pray about it -- I haven't checked exactly, but it may well have been a year in advance of the election*, to the date. I was in church, so it would have been a Sunday. There or thereabouts, anyway. Why tell me a year in advance to pray about it, and why make a partial sea-change in 2019 from a standing start where it looked impossible, only to change it back at all? I mean, why did He even bother bringing it up?? That's also frustrating. Frustrating in a way that leads to dispair and apathy. Why should I bother praying for things next time?

Well, that's faith, isn't it. It's not certainty (of outcomes), it's just taking a punt, daring to believe that it might be possible.

And seeing the difference between certainty of outcomes, and certainty of who God is, that never changes. Certainty that He is always good.

So that's where we've landed. Out of the E.U. on the 4th Brexit day, the day the LORD has made and ordained, the season of one thing ended and a new one started, and God is and has been and will be good through it all.

Some people are celebrating. Others, like me, I think, are wrestling and grieving still, as I probably will continue doing. And God is, and has been, and will continue to be good.

I hope we can all be gracious to each other. Making room within our attitudes to know that some people are grieving and some people are celebrating, and not



to be insulting or obnoxious about our own individual points of view. To forgive each other when those attitudes are presented to us and instead to increase in affection and unity despite our different perspectives.

If we can do that, perhaps that's the biggest miracle of them all.

May all the people praise Your name, O LORD!! Amen.

~~~~~~~~~

Footnotes:
* "the election" -- there was a general election mid-December 2019. The Conservatives, the ones who held the Brexit referrendum in the first place, went from a minority government that had been stymieing them, to a 70-seat majority, effectively making it a done deal**.
** But I have watched enough soap operas to know that it's never really over until it's over. Whilst there is still an 11th hour, there is still possibility for an 11th hour change of circumstances, and we forget that fact at our peril. Statements like this can only be made with honesty if they are done in retrospect, like now.

Once upon a time
there was a girl
who met a boy
who broke her heart.
And this is the story
of what happened next.

The shock, the sadness, the hopes of being reunited.
The inevitable rebound fling with someone wholly unsuitable. It didn't help. It left more scars.
The forgetting they'd broken up and being ensnared by tendrills of affection. Still thinking of jokes or annecdotes to tell him.
Those were the good days.

The occasional fury that made her wish she could stab him.
The nervous breakdown once the heartache dulled, over the lack of direction and a future without him.
The anxiety that no-one else can be trusted when they say "I will not leave you." That no-one else can be trusted at all.
The isolation of the absence of people who truly understand her; he had been a liferaft against the current in that regard. A saviour.
Those were the bad days.

The feeling invisible.
The leaking of productivity into the void of existential dispair.
The losing all sense of self and of value. Childhood no longer her own; every memory shaded by the times she told him about them.
The nightly -- daily -- weeping. And weeping, and weeping, and weeping. Alone.
Drowning in the tears that don't float her and cause her to rise, but drain her, into an ever-emptying whirlpool plughole until she's all dried up and withered and may as well not exist.
Those were the worse days.

And then what happened after that?

It starts when you're seven, and get your very own library card for the fist time.
Or even when you're born and your parents take you to the doctors. Get you a birth certificate.
It continues when you're twelve, with an email address, and all the world of the internet you then explore. The websites you sign up for, the comments you leave.
Actually, it probably starts younger than that these days, because although you are supposed to be thirteen before you are deemed worthy to use the internet unsupervised, you've probably been signed up to kids internet things, leading to general internet things, since you could talk. (Statistically, probably adult internet things too, unfortunately, but thankfully even if you've seen them, most of you aren't subscribed.)
Sixteen, or sooner, with a bank account, and the government issue you a number that you need for getting a job.
Adulthood, when you buy a house, a car, anything at all.
CCTV, and now face recognition technology, too. At any age.
Mailing lists.

It all multiplies. It multiplies, and multiplies, and multiplies. Until you drown in it.

The number of people who have information about you. The amount of paperwork you need to fill in. Terms and conditions you need to either read, or gamble on. Takes half your life. Information without relationship.

But the problem is, there's no reverse.

I mean you can try, with some things... but marching against the tide takes even more of your time and energy -- your life -- and it still won't get you very far. (For what is life, but the time and energy we are blessed with, and the decisions we make on how to spend them?)

And even if you do make headway, it won't achieve your actual aims to get to the stage of "Oh, the bit we aren't allowed to measure has moved, now!"

There's no way out. You could spend your whole life trying. Getting in a flap about it. Or spend half your life getting in a flap about doing it in the first place, and half on what you want. Or resign yourself. Those are the only real choices. Big Brother has got you!

Dear Lady Rose.

Darling little niece.

14 and a half months old. Knee high to a grown-up and already queen of the castle. Well, since the day you were born...

With your strong feet that were too large for your baby body; always kicking. And I teased your Mama that you'd be playing football with your brothers. She says, nah, her 8am Sunday sidelines are done forever and you're only allowed an indoor hobby. Every time I said "football", she said "BAL-LET". Just like when she said, "hey, is Lady Rose going to want a pony? Well let me tell you, Lady Rose is getting *zero ponies*" in a singsong voice, like a game, making you giggle. Zero ponies for Lady Rose.

You've grown into those feet a little bit now. Walking all over the place in your small pink shoes that you Grandpa even lets you wear on his carpet. But you were walking on your toes before you learned to put your heel down.

You know that I'm always in your corner, right?

And so many things I want to do with you.

I have a whole Pinterest board called Day Out With Small People, ideas I can't wait to try with you. Day trips, back-garden parties, indoor games, how many ways to build a little den? Would take you for a milkshake, if you could drink them. Without, as your Mama said before she knew what was up, you giving out "all of the sick-sies and all of the sevens". Taking a child for a milkshake seems like a very Auntie-ish thing to do.

When you're just a tiny bit bigger, of course.

Maybe by then the lacto-free milkshakes might actually be worth drinking. Poor child. No idea what you'll be missing.

Right now, you look so much like your Mama did when she was small. SO much. I remember playing with her when she looked like you. Guess it's going to be hard to see you as separate from her as you grow up? Well, might be easier when you can speak. More than a few words, anyway. You do say a lot, little chatterbox, it's just that there's not very much of it in English yet.

I wish I could get you a rocking horse. I always wanted one and never had, so I assume that that will be your heart's desire, too. Make up for all the zero ponies you'll be getting.

I wish I could get you a puppy. Or an "oof-oof", as you tend to call them right now. (Sometimes just "oof".) I saw you playing with and stroking one last week. So gentle. And sharing your raspberries with the nurse who gave you injections. Such a kind heart.

I love you, Lady Rose.

Your brothers on your Daddy's side are ten and twelve years older than you. So they'll love you hard, and protect you for always, but they won't grow up alongside you, discovering new things, understanding your first day at school, going for sleepovers with all the Grandparents who fight over you in the family that united around your crib. Watching your Gran and Grandpa share their experience of becoming Grandparents to you together, after all the problems that you don't know about, was such a beautiful thing.

So most of all I wish I could give you a little cousin to grow up with. Soon, so you can relate to each other.

You just need to please do me a favour first, okay? Can you please find me a baby-daddy to get all of this new dream started? Please? You're cute, you could do it... please?

xxx

Everyone, meet my beautiful cousin, Anne-Marie!

Accessibility: Photograph shows Anne-Marie dancing on a beach in silhouette against a yellow sunset.

Well, I say cousin. Technically, she's my third cousin once removed, or something like that. Her Father and my Grandmother were first cousins. I think. Which makes Anne-Marie and my Dad second cousins. Which makes myself and Anne-Marie's hypothetical/imaginary descendants third cousins. Hence, Anne-Marie and myself are third cousins once removed. But she and I are more or less the same generation, we speak on facebook quite a lot.

I usually introduce her in conversation as "my only blood relative who's also a Christian". But my Mum hates that, pointing out -- quite rightly -- that one doesn't need to attend church regularly (or at all) to be a Christian. She's from the last generation where everybody went to church and if you didn't you were a social pariah. But she's also -- to my knowledge -- never actually instigated a single conversation about it during her adult life. So you can see why it's easy for me to forget to think about it.

The other people I always forget are, of course, Anne-Marie's parents; I've never met them, but one of them is, obviously, also a blood relative of mine, and they are both, I think, Christians of the "highly committed" (and talk about it plenty) variety. My Dad described them as being "gentle, kind souls, the way people should be". He also said, "forget all that religious stuff", as if it's that simple. As if anyone could be "the way that people should be" without any "religious stuff"... no one I've met could. Of course everyone can be kind, generous, compassionate, etc, at times... almost everybody can also be prideful, or temperful, or fearful, too. And the best people, the ones who have spent a long time looking at Jesus, still don't ever quite get there. Again, not the ones I've ever met. My previous 'only blood relative who [was] a Christian' (before I knew/knew about Anne-Marie), on my Mum's side, was in the Salvation Army, and was one of the most warm, gentle, accepting, compassionate (and funny!) souls I ever met... and was also a gossip to the day she died. So I've never met anyone -- outside of Jesus, which is obviously a little bit different -- who actually gets there. But all the people I've met who come close, to "how people should be", have all spent a lot of time looking at him. Although as I said, I haven't yet met Anne-Marie's parents. So I only have my Dad's word for it. And Anne-Marie's too, I expect, were I actually to ask her.

She says the same about her grandfather. This was my Grandmother's Uncle, my Dad's Great Uncle. In family stories, always known as Uncle-Jack-who-had-the-farm. Methodist preacher, chapel-twice-on-Sundays kind of bloke. Uncle Jack (-who-had-the-farm), Anne-Marie's Grandfather, and my Nannie's Father, were brothers, but they were 2 of 13, so by the time you get down to my Dad's generation, you're talking about 40, 50, 60 people. All in one little terraced house for a massive Christmas party. Possibly slightly exaggerated in Dad's mind from the number of years ago and the age he was at the time? Or in mine in the retelling? But still, a big group of people. Dad said that, out of respect for Uncle Jack, they'd never crack the bottle until he had left for evening chapel on Christmas night. Methodists not really drinking, especially back then, and so forth. He also kind of hinted that knowing this, this was why Uncle Jack did go to evening chapel on Christmas Day, out of respect or love for them too, to let them get on with the partying without inferring any judgement from himself, even if/though/when he wasn't consciously projecting any. Which is cool, but it also strikes me as really sad, like Uncle Jack was being left out in the cold. Which is the way I'd take it, but I am far too in love with needing to be loved, really, so maybe I'm not the best person to ask. I don't know. But Anne-Marie speaks of her Grandfather as a kind and gentle, peaceful person, so perhaps he didn't take it that way at all.

Without going into details, when half the family fell out with the other half, Anne-Marie and her parents were the only ones who have stayed in touch with both sides. I tried, but... anyway, no details; they managed it. Good people. Possibly also aided by living in rural France and therefore not getting up-close-and-personal about it with anybody... but then again, we have the internet, we have video-chatting, so if they wanted to take sides then they could, and therefore I think they'd remain Switzerland even if they were only around the corner.

I wish they were only around the corner! Anne-Marie is one of my dearest friends and I miss her a lot. We totally sing from the same hymn sheet in a lot of ways. I say "miss her", I've never met her either, so far as I can remember, but it is that desire to spend a lot more time talking with her than I have so far. But she gets me. I texted her the other day, apropos of nothing and with no preamble, just, "yeah but sometimes I feel like I'm banging my head against the wall of the Universe, saying, 'yeah, but, does anyone actually want to marry me, though?' ", and she just jumped in with a simple, "ugh, I know how you feel." She's much gentler than me, still; I can be head-strong. But despite being my third cousin once removed, she's not some distant relative I've never heard of. Some of my actual first cousins have turned into distant relations I haven't seen for a decade, whereas Anne-Marie has gotten promoted, and there's still scope for further growth. With enough tending to our relationship, our cousinship could probably get promoted to sisterhood down the line.

We're hoping to go visit them next year! Dad's (probably) going, to stay with Anne-Marie's parents, and I have done the incredibly UNclassy thing of inviting myself along for the ride. To sleep on Anne-Marie's couch. I can't wait! But... I wonder how she'd react if I asked to just move in with her?

Some days Jesus has to shepherd me like this...
( Accessibility:Collapse )

A bible passage that has been on my mind a lot lately is the one I am naming the feeding of the 20,000+. This is the one that is more commonly known as the feeding of the 5,000, but that's 5,000 men, not including women and children, who were also there, and so I've renamed it for the purpose of egalitarianism. Because women and children are people too. (The headings of the chapter sections in the bible are not to be considered part of the actual text for holy purposes, only for fast reference, so I'm fine with renaming the title of this one and not losing any of the implied holiness of the words. jsyk *wink*) The full details of the story can be found in the book of Mark, beginning in Chapter 6.

This passage and the parts that surround it is the subject of three of the most powerful/insightful sermons I've ever heard; one from the previous reverend of my current church (Nik), and two from preaching I've heard on the internet, by Priscilla Shirer, and Stephen Furtick, and it's this preaching, this pointing out of details that are hidden in plain sight, that is the reason it has been on my mind.

If I may summarise/paraphrase:

Jesus sends twelve disciples out on their first assignments without him, which involved travelling, preaching, visiting and anointing the sick, miracle healings, and evicting evil forces that are possessing people. Quite intense stuff. Not sure how long this was for, probably several days at least.
Then there's a sidebar about the death beheading of John the Baptist; Jesus' close relative and the one who had been preparing the way for him spiritually.
Then the disciples are back with Jesus, trying to debrief and desperate for some rest. It says they did not even have time to eat, because of the people still coming and going. So Jesus tries to get them away to a quiet place to regroup with him. But the multitude follow him.
So this is Priscilla's first point, that sometimes when you are that rung out and exhausted, the blessing that you get is the multitude, the exact opposite of what you want, because what you wanted would have made you selfish. Not sure if I agree with that or just that that's life, and that sometimes when you are that wrung out, a multitude still happens.
Then Stephen points out that when Peter (more or less, the 'lead' disciple) says to Jesus, "Lord, shall we send these people away so that they can get something to eat?", that's actually... Peter wants something to eat. And he wants the crowd to go away. Because he wants that alone time hanging out with Jesus... that Jesus had offered him. Peter wonders if Jesus has forgotten him. So I think it's worth noting that sometimes Jesus does sometimes do something different than he had been doing, he has compassion on people (in this case, the multitude who needed healing), and his priorities change, and when they do, it's important to still stick with him.
But Jesus says, "you give them something to eat". They find a small boy with a packed lunch who gives it to Jesus. Jesus gives thanks for the food and tells everyone to sit down. Something odd happens here, and you need to look carefully to see it (thanks to Nik for pointing this out). The people sit down in groups of 50 or 100. Note, Jesus does not say, sit in groups of 50 or 100. Jesus just says, sit down. The people do that by themselves. The reason they do this, is because there were set prayers for food that would be said by the rabbi or other spiritual leader of the group, depending on the number of people that were present.
Then the disciples distributed the food to the people, and the people, following the lead of their rabbis and other spiritual leaders, put a portion of their meal to one side to go to the temple to feed the poor. Well, that's where it ended up, but they weren't doing it to be overtly charitable, they were doing it to offer to God. To be obedient, religiously. And then the disciples collected 12 baskets of these pieces. (>>Where did they get 12 baskets from, anyway, if they only had one packed lunch between 20,000+ people? That's a side point but it just crossed my mind.<<) Anyway, and thanks again to Nik for this, the point is that these 12 baskets of pieces were not "leftovers", they had been set aside on purpose. Even though the word "leftovers" is often used in the translation into English, a better word is "pieces". (I'm coming back to this point later.)
Stephen makes another excellent point here. Peter was hungry. He didn't get given food. But he was given a seed, one boy's packed lunch. (Via Jesus.) And when he planted that seed -- distributed the packed lunch -- then the seed grew and the provision was so great that he was able to eat, along with 20,000+ others. So sometimes, you bring a need, and you don't get the need fulfilled, but you do get a seed. And then you have a choice. And if you choose to plant the seed, then the provision grows, giving an abundance not only for yourself but for many others as well.
Thinking back to Priscilla, she also said "everyone wants to see a miracle, but no one wants to get to the point where a miracle is required." I'm still thinking about Peter. He didn't want to get to the point where he was distributing food to the crowds... but like everyone, I'm sure he wanted to see a miracle. (Okay, okay, she actually said that in a different sermon. But it still fits here.)
Then Jesus sends the disciples away in the boat so that they can actually get some rest after their adventurous week. But he stays behind, goes up the mountain and prays by himself for a while. I think digesting the news about John the Baptist? And the disciples are rowing through the night to the other side of the lake, with the wind against them.
Then Jesus appeared, walking on the water, terrifying everybody, and Peter walked out to him, and then looked at the waves and nearly drowned.
And on the other side of the lake there are more crowds, more teaching, more healing, another mass-feeding miracle. Lather, rinse, repeat.
On the way back to this side of the lake, Jesus warns them not to get infected with the yeast of "Herod and the Pharisees".
(Herod was the Governor, the one who had John the Baptist beheaded. The Pharisees were religious leaders who tried really hard to do the right thing, but liked boasting about it too, and tended to make things harder rather than easier for the ordinary people to come to God. Jesus had a lot of arguments with them.)

So what is the yeast of Herod and the Pharisees? Well Herod quite literally killed someone who was doing God's work, not believing it, not giving it room to flourish. Also he had liked to listen to John the Baptist, but he hadn't wanted to join in or believe, so there's also an element of thinking that knowing about God is going to be enough, that he doesn't need to actually do anything, and it starts so subtly, but it does turn the whole heart poisonous with the pride of wanting to do it all on one's own terms. The Pharisees were a bit like that too, thinking that just because they were disciplined, that discipline by itself mattered, instead of potentially just being a complete waste of energy because it didn't actually accomplish anything worthwhile. And the other thing, and thanks to Nik for pointing this out: when the people are sitting down with a Rabbi or a Pharisee at the head of their groups, saying their set prayers, don't forget that Jesus had already given thanks for the food. And don't forget that it's only out of God's provision that they even had any food in the first place, because they were all eating one boy's packed lunch. And when you put those things together, it's saying that the Pharisees did not think that Jesus was good enough for God. Jesus' prayer wasn't good enough, they felt the need to pray again themselves. Jesus' obedience to God to take care of them wasn't good enough, they had to add their own obedience by keeping the portion to one side. So before long you get to, what Jesus is offering isn't good enough for God, you have to do that yourself. But that's still the pride to set your own terms for coming to God, and not the humility to accept the terms that God has laid out. Which is entirely to do with Jesus and nothing to with our discipline, but you can find out more about that on your own, because the main point here, is just, who gets to set the terms?
And I think the other point of note, is, Peter, like the Pharisees, expected recognition and a reward for what he had already accomplished. That because he had done a lot, he thought that excused him from having to do any more. Same as how the Pharisees thought that their disciplined lives alone made them worthy of honour.

So when I find that the road is long and only ever getting harder, when I am wrung out and exhausted, as I have been recently... sometimes I just have to face a multitude. Sometimes I get a seed to plant, good I can still do. And I get so, so tempted to want to hold something back, just one thing, to "not want to have to" give up anything else. ...To want to set the terms. When I give in to that, that's when I end up in holes and need full-body rescuing in a very non-dignified way that may or may not also have been painful. And it starts so, so subtly. Jesus is a good shepherd and he does always rescue me. But he is also teaching me. That when I actually don't try to run the show, when I just go with it, even when it's not what I was expecting (or promised), that my harvest comes and my strength renews, and I have so much to be thankful for. *smile*