whispers in the wind

Ugh

2020-03-06T11:19:18Z

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.

LJI wk 12 -- Failure

2020-02-01T03:17:12Z

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.

LJI Week 11 Part 2 -- If the creek don't rise

2020-01-21T16:31:07Z

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?

LJI S11 w11 Wild Goose Chase

2020-01-20T14:17:54Z

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!

LJI S11 wk 10 -- OPEN TOPIC

2020-01-05T22:34:27Z

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

LJI S11 wk9 -- Blood Harmony (choice of topics)

2019-12-17T02:01:39Z

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?

LJI wk 8 -- My True North

2019-12-05T22:02:35Z

Some days Jesus has to shepherd me like this...
The above link, which was supposed to embed but wouldn't, features a man lying down reaching into what is seemingly solid grassy earth, gradually pulling out an entire sheep by the back ankles, blocking it from returning to the hole, turning it around and sending it on it's way. The shepherd and the cameraman are laughing and chatting in Spanish throughout. The caption to the video says (in English) "Some days Jesus has to shepherd me like this...".

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*

LJI S11 wk7 -- feckless

2019-11-20T14:11:04Z

The day you break up with someone, or sometimes the day that they break up with you, there's an irresistible desire to make big changes, straight away. To delineate the "After" from the "Before". New clothes, new hair styles, new piercings or tattoos or motorbikes. New curtains, new sports cars or maybe a new house. Rapid change, with urgency. Occasionally it comes with a criminal bent; sometimes it involves a relocation. Sometimes it's just about how rapidly a person can change their state of sobriety... but often it's not just that.

I think the same is true the day that you break up with ideas, because breaking up with a person is only breaking up with the idea that you will be spending a lot of time with that person in the future.

Can you feel it in the air? A little whisper like the changing of the seasons that can launch you forward to something new...

There are lots of options that can be destructive; criminal damage or damaging to oneself. Some that are neutral -- does it really matter what colour the bedroom is painted? Or what your hair looks like? Probably not... apart from that delineating I mentioned. But at the crossroads I'm at now, I am wondering... Logic tells me there is a big change that can push me forwards, too... I can't see the end but maybe I can see the way to fail forward? But can I move quickly enough to not lose the impetus to do it? Probably won't work if I have to over-think it...

NOTE: This entry was going to end with a photograph of myself having changed my hair this week; alas, it has gotten lost in the digital transfer process. My apologies. Just imagine unmowngrass with different hair, and then tell me what you imagined :-)

LJI S11 wk6 -- solvitur ambulado (Latin for "it is solved by walking")

2019-11-11T16:25:47Z

Last week, last Friday, was a fairly devastating day in my life. Hope, wishes, expectations, fervency, and exitement all crashed -- HARD! -- against a solid wall of impossibility presented to me, and I had nowhere else to turn.

And it's not the only dead end I've encountered -- that I've, seemingly, been led to -- that I have run into at full speed. This one in particular happened for the second time. Then there was the wonderfully redemptive career that wasn't, and then the other wonderfully redemptive career that wasn't, and then the neon signs to marry the guy who, in the end, didn't want to marry me. Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! Brutal. How much I love driving, and how much better my life would be if I could do it... and the eight times I've failed the test. Especially the last time, where the examiner said, "you drove really well for 40 minutes and really badly for 5-10 seconds, so I've had to fail you". Crash! Etc.

Just give me a path to continue down! Just something! Just some kind of future, some direction to head in, PLEASE!! Please, I'll do anything. Just give me something. please?

**

Is the navigational system faulty? That's the obvious question to ask, and believe me, I have asked it a lot of times. A LOT of times. And whilst there's probably a degree of finer tuning that could be undertaken, that could always be undertaken, I actually don't think that it is. When your whole being gets tingly-captivated at the thought of a certain path in front of you, to a large extent you just have to walk that path, right? Come what may.

In a lot of ways, it would be easier if it were that the navigation system is faulty. Pause. Examine. Recalibrate. Retune. Start over. It's all good. And the first few times the crashes happen, that's the natural response. Landing at the conclusion that it's not, though. What then?

Is anyone running interferance? Well, yes, perhaps, but it doesn't seem worth bothering too much over. Because it's in the Handbook, "greater is the one who is in you than the one who is in the world". And also, isn't this a variation on the navigation system being faulty? There's a scary question next...

What are the motivations of the Chief Navigator? Are they good? Bad? Indifferent? ...probably not "indifferent", because if that was the case, why would there even be a navigation system, right?? Why would the Chief Navigator even bother? They wouldn't. And they don't have bad motivations either. That much has been proved in my life, in these circumstances and others, so, so, so many times. And in the words of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Doyle), "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." So, the motivations are still good. Fantastic. A-OK.

But now what? Am I one day going to encounter a barrier which I am going to need to slam into it in order to break through to where I need to be? Is all of this previous crashing is just practice for that? Well, possibly. Is there something inside of me that needs to break? Again, maybe. And right now these are the only logical explainations I can find. But they're also not something I can really concern myself with until I actually get to that point. I still need something, some new direction to go in, until I reach that level. Or I sit down and lament how crappy my life is and then never get up again. That's an option.

But I've tried that too, over the years, and it doesn't get anywhere. Doesn't change anything. So the options are, a crappy life that I'm trying to fix, or a crappy life that I'm whinging about. Nor is giving up a realistic option, either, because it only lasts for a time anyway. Best case scenario, it gives me a bit of breathing room if I need it.

**

Friday was devastating. This week, actually, I'm ok. I still (desperately!) need a direction to go in, but I'm not a wreck anymore. I wasn't a wreck for very long, actually. At church on Saturday, we sang a hymn that I'm sure I've sung dozens if not hundreds of times. The last line of that hymn is "Here in the power of Christ I'll stand". And it somehow struck me then, in a way that it hadn't ever done before, that it's not just, like, "here on Earth", or even, "here, where the power of Christ is", but like, here-here. Here, right now, in my current situation. With the power of Christ in my life, I will stand here. I will invest in those emotionally untenable relationships, and see if something more beautiful can't grow in their stead, and I will be right here, not going anywhere. It's hard; very hard. It's kind of disorienting. It is definitely much more scary than any of the options that involve leaving for a new adventure. Because it's the only option where things getting even worse is a very real possiblitity. It's going to take courage like I never dreamed, and more love than I think that I have. But as best as I can, I will plant, and then reap the harvest. Right here.

LJI S11 wk 5 “My enemies are all too familiar. They're the ones who used to call me friend"

2019-11-04T23:07:45Z

Resolution

Author's note: The following is a letter (email) that I am sending in real life this week. It also fits the topic well, or at least at a tangent, and sometimes life goes like that. For further details about Scargill House, Please see this website: https://scargillmovement.org/ . Concrit welcome. ETA -- I have sent the letter. It didn't sit well talking about them without talking to them. ETA 2 -- it's still no

----

Hello

Over the summer I applied to come to live and work at Scargill House, and I was declined; this email is to say, please reconsider.

After thinking and praying over why my application may have been rejected, I can think of only two potential causes: the way I applied, and my answer to the question, why do I want to live in community. I will provide more information about those in the following paragraphs.

The first, the way I applied. By which I mean, I didn't come to view Scargill House and stay for a weekend before making the decision to apply, and I believe that was viewed as unusual, possibly even with suspicion. My reasoning was thus: if the notion of coming to live and work with you was from my Heavenly Father as an opportunity specially prepared for me, then I have a straight choice -- I can either say, 'yes, I will apply', or, 'no, I will not apply' (ie, 'I will be disobedient'). Coming to visit for a weekend does not change that choice. I would leave the weekend facing exactly the same choice as I faced at the beginning. So therefore, there is nothing to be gained for me from coming before I made the application, because more information does not change that choice. The only area for which I would need more information before I decided to apply would be, is this notion an opportunity specially prepared for me by my Heavenly Father, or not? Visiting may have shed more light on that question, but praying about it at home did that too. Given that my best judgement told me it was, coming to visit in the hopes of receiving extra confirmation did feel to me like testing God, and that is not something I want or wanted to do. If this is the path He's laid out for me, then I want to jump in fully, with faith; in for a penny, in for a pound; no messing about along the way. Obviously, if it's not, then pursuing it is only a waste of everybody's time, but I think it was/is. If you wanted me to visit for a weekend so that you could be sure about me, then that's up to you, but it wouldn't be before I submitted the application.

At a recent induction service for a vicar friend, I heard the bishop say that anyone undertaking such a big decision without any doubts probably hasn't taken it seriously enough. Do you feel the same way? I do have doubts about things. But usually not at this stage of the process. Usually, once it's all signed off and definitely going ahead, that is when I start to panic; when there's no backing out now! I got a lot of nerves once I'd actually posted the envelope last time. But I have learned to work with my doubts over the years. If I am able to set things in motion before the nerves kick in, so that, whether I am plagued by nerves or not, I still just have to find a way to make it work... then I can find a way to make it work. If I get the collywobbles whilst it's still actually possible to back out, which does happen when I don't act straight away upon any inspiration... then the nerves consume me, panic stops me in my tracks, and I do actually then usually back out. But for a Christian community, I shouldn't expect that telling my doubts speaks louder than my faith to actually just jump in and do the thing, and see what God does along the way! And there is power in naivety. When you don't know what you don't know, you don't know what's supposed to stop you and you just find a way to power through. To give an unrelated and more inconsequential example, when I altered a dress to turn it into a skirt, I was praised for how neatly I'd sewn in the zip for a beginner. Because the more experienced seamstress would have approached it that way, taking the zip out and inserting a new one. But, not knowing what I didn't know, I just found a way to shorten the zip that was already there -- something she'd never even thought of. As a metaphor for life, that lesson has stayed with me very powerfully, and it's usually worked out very well.

All of the above would stand regardless of the following; however, I also do not have enough money to fund a stay for a few days and train tickets there and back. Especially not to fund two trips, one preliminary and one for an interview. (Were you to offer me an interview, I would be able to borrow funds from family for the journey, and as I stated in my application, I have a friend who would be pleased to drive me and my possessions to Yorkshire were I moving in permanently.)

These are the reasons I did not see any need to come for a visit before submitting an application.

As to why I wanted to live in community in the first place: what I said in my application was true, although perhaps it wasn't the whole truth. I do want to be with the same people every day, sit-com style. Humans were not designed to live alone; at least, this human wasn't. And were I to get married and have babies, living with the same people every day would be a non-issue. But it's not the only way to have a support network around a person, and nor is it a realistic possibility in my life right now either.

I need to be with the people of God. In the care of the church family and also living with those who share the same values. It's said we all become the average of the five people with whom we spend the most time. I am not entirely sure how that works, given that they are then also becoming like us, too, but I do think there is some truth in it. I have seen the effects of this in my own life spending a lot of time with people who are not in the (Christian) family -- I have noticed that I have become self-pitying, self-important, self-absorbed, at various times, and I don't want to continue to be those ways, so I need to be spending more time -- a lot more time -- with people who are not like that, but are generous, compassionate, worshipful, holy, in order to bring out these best qualities within myself, too. The way I would describe myself when I am spending plenty of time with the rest of the family members.

I am not currently emotionally strong enough to live by myself without support. My current living situation (with my Mum & stepdad) has an end date on it; they are starting to look for a bungalow for just the two of them. And in the mean time, it is becoming more untenable emotionally and more frustrating all around as well. I am not running away from them. I didn't want it to seem like I was, which is why I didn't mention this aspect of it before. I am working on developing a better character/attitude and a better relationship whilst I am still with them. But as a considered, measured response, the opportunity to walk into a new venture and a living situation that does not include them, is both needed, and highly appealing. I'm not scared, but I am ready. Ready for something new. And eager, too.

I have mentioned a support network a couple of times now, and lest this be raising alarms, let me clarify: I am not going to need coddling. I am not going to be making everything All About Me. That has been a temptation, and one that has snared me at times, yes. But the solution isn't to put other people in a difficult position by being self-important. The solution is to feel secure enough in the affections of the group that I can afford to take a back seat; I don't need to drain a person's energy right now because it's the only chance I have to receive any individual attention at all. That's going to make things worse in the long run. But when the people aren't going to go anywhere, and neither am I, then the solution becomes resting in that companionship, knowing that if ever I did really really need attention right now, they would be there, but in the meantime I can just enjoy being with them, and hopefully, let them enjoy being with me. Enjoying what I have to offer, without burying it under a big pile of emotional need.

This brings me to my next point: I do want to be able to contribute, to offer what I have, to meet any needs that I see. It's another way to kick my pride into touch, but it's also only right that it's not only a receiving situation. Yes, moving to Scargill House would benefit me. I didn't lead with this last time because I wanted to just put my best foot forward to sell myself. But I do also want to contribute to the life and work that you all share, to do my part, to offer the best of what I can do, and pray that it benefits you, too. I am not looking for a free ride, or for coddling, as I said. I want to be somewhere where I can make a difference too.

I don't know how any of this reads as "not suitable to live in community".

And yes, in the least important but very practical way, I do need somewhere to live, and right now I have nowhere else to go except to throw myself on the mercy of God's people and hope that they will take me in. I'd greatly value the opportunity to stay somewhere with God's people for a year or two, whilst I get used to living away from my family and also regroup and make a plan for where I'm going after that year or two is up. Or longer, if that's what the LORD has planned.

I mentioned not being emotionally strong enough to live by myself right now, and that's true. A large part of that is because I struggle with routines and can get overwhelmed. Less often than I used to do, definitely, but still often enough that it can be an issue at times. I need a routine, I just struggle to develop/implement one entirely by myself right now, because I have lower levels of executive function. Knowing that decisions such as, what time to get up, what to have for lunch, etc, have been removed from my attention, will be like following a guide-rope in my mind through any overwhelm when it comes. More so because it's been sown into with many prayers throughout each day too. Exactly the sort of structure I would need in order to be able to "pull myself together" in order to go to the next level of my life after I'd left.

So I am throwing myself on the mercy of the family of God, particularly yourselves as pioneers of this new type of monasticism, because I need what you have to offer. Because I have nowhere else to go. But also because I hope that there is a place for me amongst my Father's family, where I can offer what I have, too. And for that reason, please reconsider my application.

My back is not strong, I have a damaged vertebra; therefore I may need to be on light duties if I'm in a more physical department, especially to begin with. This is why I applied particularly to be in the admin team with yourselves. But I am happy to work in whatever team you will have me, if I could come to live with you.

Please prayerfully reconsider my application.

With many thanks,

Yours in Christ,

[[unmowngrass]]

LJI S11 wk 4 Impossible

2019-10-22T23:01:44Z

"Okay, okay, settle down! unmowngrass, and everyone else who isn't actually in the orchestra, you need to leave because we've now only got 20 minutes for this rehearsal before the bell rings. Band, I hope you all warmed up whilst you were eating your sandwiches! And... 1-2-3-4 --"

My left hand fumbles, ring finger trying to make the different notes. Is F the one above Middle C, or is that G? I think it's the one above. Middle C - F - D - A - E# going up. Middle C - G - Bb - back to E# - going down. Maybe. I think. I don't know what these notes sound like, I only know them by their sequence.

There was a lot of talent in that room. Probably why we/they were allowed to get away with so much messing about, too. So far as memory serves, students needed a Grade 3 in any instrument in order to take music as a specialist subject -- I think this is maybe playing Three Blind Mice?; Grade 4 and above is the level at which students are expected to sight-read; Grade 8 is the highest Grade available. No-one in my high school orchestra had less than a Grade 6, usually in at least two instruments. One of them to this day is a legitimate professional concert pianist.

My piano app says, Play one octave below Middle C. This is not a key that I have. I play Middle C itself with a huge amount of oomph, and force the app to recognise it. It works, just about. The same cannot be said for any of the other bass notes, so I end up repeating the same section over and over and over and over, until I realised that I'm not going to be able to progress and unlock many of the songs. Which rather defeats the point of paying quite a lot of money -- turned out to be one large annual payment, and not a promise to pay the much smaller monthly amount for a full year without cancelling -- in order to get the piano app in the first place!

A coal-miner's strike a year or two before I was born (late in the academic year) led to a glut of students my age. Maybe half as many again as the teachers were used to; the orchestra reflected that, and most of the rest were their siblings. We were all in the same classes academically, in the upper echelons; as much as we could get away with gossiping in class, we bonded and were friends. But music was the thing that connected everybody outside of class. The excuse they had for going round to each others' houses, to practice. But then, to hang out. Them, and not me.

Three years ago when I worked behind the bar, the Advanced division of the Accordion Club used to meet on the premises on Tuesdays. Well, they still do. On my breaks I would sneak into the rehearsal to listen to them. So beautiful, all twenty of them playing in harmony. Made me want to waltz around the room. And they spoke to me and drew me in to the beginner's rehearsal; Mondays, different place. Instrument hired from them.

Such was the tale of my adolescence. I didn't play an instrument, so no matter how many lunches I got away with eating in the music room, I was never actually one of the cool kids, and therefore sooner or later, I always had to leave the rehearsals. And never got invited to socialise with everyone else out of hours either.

Usually, people who learn the accordion are already fluent in the piano, so they only need to learn the bass keys (arranged by order of the most popular chords, working out from Middle C), and how to operate the bellows. I could not play the piano; I could only just, barely, very slowly, read the music, and because I'm a bit dyslexic, all the notes tended to jump up and down anyway. But according to both the leader of the Accordion CLub, and the memory of my school music teacher and orchestral peers, actually writing the names of the letters down on the music, is "cheating". Writing down the number of the finger used to play the note is considered a bad a idea too, but it's the numbers that stuck in my mind associated with each key. That's why I can't remember the names of the notes.

I did play the guitar, briefly. My Dad had a guitar for his 40th birthday, because he had really wanted one when he was twelve, and didn't get it. So when I was 12... ish... I wanted one too. Even though I had never wanted to play it before, and I didn't realise how much it would hurt my (delicate) fingers, and it's not that useful to play alongside a clarinet or a trumpet either. And I did have a few lunchtime lessons, from a completely different teacher, by myself, in, of all places, the cupboard. Yes, quite literally, in the cupboard known as the Music Storeroom, just about enough room for our two chairs. Because one of the music classrooms was obviously occupied with the orchestra rehearsals, and when the other one wasn't locked, people were using the piano to practise for their personal goals and exams. Playing violin music, because nobody had anything prepared for the guitar.

Much as I loved listening to the accordion music, and I did -- do --, at the beginning stage it's very about being able to say that I have mastered the skill. No joy in the process itself, only in the accomplishing. Which is why I didn't practice very much. So even the beginner's group rushed well ahead of me, and then I joined the beginner's group again with the next group of complete newbies -- who could play the piano -- and then they got ahead of me again. I carried on hiring the instrument the second time, though. Even though it sat in it's box for many months. I knew eventually I'd get it out again, when I could face it, when I could do it at my pace, and that day was a few weeks ago.

I should have asked the school to give me piano lessons. That's so obvious to me in retrospect. I asked my friends to teach me, from time to time, and of course there were the regular music classes I took before we needed to choose specialist subjects. I never asked a teacher. Our family was never going to be able to afford a piano anyway -- although of course the school had a few. The piano can play every style of music, is common enough that one can usually be found to sit down at when needed, and is, in retrospect, an important social skill for both ice-breaking, and for instigating dances. The only advantage the guitar has is it's portability.

Dad learned to play the guitar by ear, but much like my Mum's side of the family, I couldn't figure it out that way, I had to do it by sequence, and music was just not considered important in her house. She hardly ever listened to the radio, and even then, her favourites are songs she can sing along to. Nothing about understanding the way the tune is made. That's a completely different paradigm.

I can dance, and last week when I was doing duty-practice of my accordion, with my piano app, trying to play the notes that didn't exist, a phrase from dancing crossed my mind. "WAIT for the music. Don't rush." And suddenly I could see it in a different light. I understood the musicality. I'd been using the wrong part of my brain. Or rather, trying to play from my brain, and not from my soul. But now I got it, it had entered me. Hallelujah!

And I was crying. I played my one song that I had unlocked, over and over for an hour and a half, and I cried, and cried. If only they could see me now, eh? And I thought to myself,

"I'd give everything I have to go back and get this when I was fourteen. To get my piano lessons, and show them that I can join in. The accordion can wait, I don't need to pick that up any sooner than I did, but to have music have been a part of me then, like I now know it was for my friends... I'd give everything."

LJI S11 wk3 -- Everything looks like a nail

2019-10-15T23:57:30Z

Two years ago this past summer, I went for a walk in the local woods, and I got lost. The path I was on started atop a hill and descended; from the top of the hill, I could see the large building at the top of the road where I live, so it looked like if I walked straight ahead, I could get home. Half an hour, done, lovely. But I got lost. And trees all kinda look the same, so even when I called someone for help -- miracle in itself, at the time it was less than 50/50 my phone would be both charged and not left behind!! -- I couldn't tell them where I was right now. I managed to find the backs of some houses; in one I saw the trash can had the address, so I knew where I was! Houses had gates in the back fence, just had to wait for someone to come out into the garden and ask permission to cross through to the street. The height of summer, so it's three hours later by the time it starts thinking about getting dark; no one has shown. I'm long, long out of water, no food, attempting to hold off a call of nature. My only plan was that once it did get dark, I'd trespass and make a break for it down the side of one of the houses -- although my friends decided to drive over and knock on the door of one to just ask. Bless them. And bless my neighbours, who let me through. Not that there isn't something comforting about being only half a mile from home when facing the prospect of a night outdoors in the forest. But still. Not a prospect I relished repeating.

So, how can I avoid the same thing happening? Trail of breadcrumbs? Ball of string? Chalk marks or carvings on the trees I pass? All suggested in jest.

When I got a tablet and saw the offline survival manual in the app store, It seemed worth snagging. That would solve one problem, anyway. But I've always been able to figure things out. I could build a shelter, and a water filter, and a compostible toilet. I could probably (maybe) gerry-rig various pieces of scrap metal into a phone charger or a radio or a cooker. And I have fairly high stamina -- I could keep walking, keep trudging, for as long as it takes. Not quickly -- I doubt I could outrun a predator or an enemy (or a zombie... but a survival situation would be bad enough with things that are actually real, without making things up as well...). But I could keep going. I can do enopugh first aid to keep everyone alive, take charge assigning jobs, and hopefully keep everyone's panic at bay. Although that's easier said than done. But it was worse because I was on my own.

And it still doesn't solve my other problem, finding a way out. Although like anything, there's an app for that. What3words turns GPS coordinates into a short string of words that are easier to convey to people who can help you, and so I finally felt prepared to face the woods again this weekend. I went prepared -- TWO water bottles AND a granola bar! and a full battery on the tablet -- and I also found some interesting supplies on the ground around the neighbourhood when I was walking, too. I'm a regular womble in that regard, always picking things up. Saturday I found two separate magnets; a really large, sturdy hook; a few pennies; a bottle top; and, oh what's that? Ah, it's a really long screw. Keeping that, it'll definetly be useful.

therealljidol, season 11, week 1 -- Resolution

2019-09-29T22:53:22Z

In 1998, Bill Clinton was President of the USA, John Major was Prime Minister of the UK, and I was 12 years old.

Leaving scandalous "extra curriculars" to the side, and with the haziness born from both looking back that far, and the age I was at the time, they both seem to be competent, sensible people. If their time were now and I could speak with them, I highly doubt that I'd agree with all, possibly most, of what they're standing for. (I didn't know much about politics then, and I haven't specifically researched this since, either.) But, as competent, sensible people (self included), I am reasonably sure that we would at least all be having the same conversation. Furthermore, I have a degree of hope that even where we'd disagree, there would be at least some attempts by all sides to understand and validate the concerns of those with whom we were disagreeing. "I see where you're coming from but I think ________ ." Others older than me may express cynisism at that point. I don't know. I was 12 years old. But that is my hope.

Whilst I was twelve years old, I read in my Science textbook about CFCs and the hole in the Ozone layer which they caused.

What seems really astonishing to me now, but really, really shouldn't, is that when our scientists told us about this, we actually changed. Our politicians listened, and actually made changes. CFCs were made illegal. Aerosols and refrigerators had to be redesigned, and they were. And actually the landscape changed so far that I don't think it even still says on the packaging, "CFC-free". Because it doesn't need to. Because noone at all is using CFCs in any way, just like noone is still putting lead into petrol or paint, or asbestos into buildings, and noone makes labels about those things either. CFCs are entirely history.

Another thing about which twelve year old me read in her textbook, was fuels. It said, the oil will run out in 2020 [except for fracking, it basically has done], the gas by 2030, the coal by 2050 and the (safe) nuclear by 2075. But not to worry, because we already have the technology for wind power, solar power, wave power, and other renewable energy sources. In another few decades, we might even have fission!! Which means we can use the same materials over and over and over again, so we'll never ever run out of energy ever again! What's more, now we have the Information Super-Highway [AKA the internet, for the under 30s!], so scientists all around the world can work together much, much more easily! It's going to be incredible! So we can work on making the environmentally-friendly technologies widespread and even improving them, during these last few years that we have the older, non-renewable supplies, and once all the pollution they caused has dissipated, then it will be clean air and good energy all around! Wonderfulness for everybody!! *rainbow emoji*

Optimism to the point of naivity, I think, given what's followed. I do paraphrase, but that was the message.

A large degree of international co-operation also led to the setting of the Millenium Development Goals. A fifteen year plan to bring important things like clean water, education and basic healthcare to the whole of the world, not to catch them up, exactly, but so that they would certainly not be as far behind and we could then go forwards with more unity on a semi-equal footing. Even as the leaders changed; Tony Blair, who was better decribed as "charismatic" than "sensible", and all it took to riddicule a President was to "misunderestimate" him. Even then... hope reigned supreme.

Until.

Until some idiots hijacked an aeroplane and drove it into a building (twice over), war errupted in the Middle East, and suddenly everyone forgot to care.

We looked up in 2004/5, and saw the world again. We started using words like "climate change", we started caring about widespread flooding and deforrestation, and the melting of the polar ice caps. We were well off course to meet the five-year interim targets of the Millenium Development Goals, but we honestly believed that writing to our politicians would be enough to get us back on track. Large concerts (rallies with music?) were organised to "send a message"; everyone was wearing white rubber wristbands; it was the year of Make Poverty History.

Was that when the tide changed? Or started to? When we all campaigned for a whole year or more, and, materially, nothing was any different? There were some donations to charities, a (very) small reduction in international debts owed, and... that was it? Compared to the scale of the problem... barely enough to register?

The widespread flooding in our homelands continued, but not as bad as it would become; issues like LGBT+ equality were taking up all of our politician's time, and then the ecconomy tanked completely and everyone became exclusively focussed on their own back yards. We barely noticed when we sailed past the second set of five-year intermediary targets for the Millenium Development Goals without even having met the standards, or half of the standards, for the first; nationalism started to rise. Ironically, around much of the world.

We looked up again, briefly, in 2012. Good news! The hole in the ozone layer was shrinking! We also had competent, sensible politicians again -- did you ever see any with more stateliness than the Obamas?? -- but the people on the street felt removed from them. I think this is when 'not vaccinating on purpose' started becoming a thing, which of course went on to lose us any international credibility to deliver a vaccine program where it is most needed. New wars errupted in the Middle East and North Africa. Some we were involved in. Some from earlier from which we were still trying to extract ourselves. Some perpetrated by young men, who were young boys when we destroyed their families, now seeking revenge against us. Flooding continued, globally, but also in our homelands. Not exclusively, not even necessarily causing the most damage and almost certainly not the most loss of life. But it focussed us back on ourselves, not the international community, once again. Oh, and smartphones were now ubiquituous, so everyone's distracted. Even for those who want to stand for change, there's too much information, too many causes, too much fragmentation, for anyone to really make any kind of difference. The Information Super-Highway Bites Back. Sounds like a bad horror movie. In a way, it is.

And now where are we? September, almost October, 2019. "Fake news", "alternative facts" and "climate change deniers" are... everyday language. Our politicians repeatedly break the law, and are treated with apathy. Democracy breaks down. Stateliness is nowhere to be seen. The United Nations passes decrees, but we ignore them. Well, I don't even know if they still do. It seems like a long time that I've been saying "it's all going to hell in a handbasket anyway, it's just a matter of how badly." I don't recognise the world I described from 1998 when I look around. I don't think it will ever be like that again. I don't know how it could possibly become more unglued than it currently is, nor where we go from here; but then again: I've said that before.

therealljidol, season 11, declaration of intent

2019-09-19T22:59:12Z

I'm in!

therealljidol, season 11, week 0 -- introduction

2019-09-19T22:57:52Z

Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

A few days ago I left the following comment on a youtube article:

That comment about "just because God's said that this is in your future, doesn't mean that now is the right time to reach out and take it" ... that's a gut-punch to me. Because that's exactly what happened to me, and it ruined my life. Shattered my peace. Broke my heart. God is still good. He still provides sweet comfort. But there's still definitely more pain than joy these days. These years. And I'm still largely living in a wasteland with no visible hope or future in my life. Wandering around in circles, no idea what to do next. At the same time, it does actually help, too. Because now at least I can see the reason (or some of the reason) why I ended up here, what made it all come unglued. So thank you for that. And knowing what happened last time is halfway to knowing how to make sure it never happens again, so thanks for that too. Thanks.

It's a fairly accurate summary of how things in my life have been recently. Of course, moods change, and today I was actually really happy, but I have definitely been walking a hard road lately, feeling at times like my soul is being dragged over shards of glass. The tears come, often daily, but they tend to leave pretty quickly too, and even in these past few days I am noticing more of the rewards of the hard road and not just the disappointemnts. Like the sweet presence of God that I mentioned, and seeing the purpose of the desert from the higher perspective. Because it's really an oportunity to re-orient myself and set off on a different path than the one I was on before. Three hundred and sixty ways out of a clearing circle, after all.

A chance to say, Ok, the road forked. But now I have come so far that I can't even see it any longer, so no matter how much I wanted to be on the other path at that time, I'm actually not, I can no longer see the way back to it, but hey, guess what? There are bound to be some sweet treasures over here, too, and I'm keen to dig in and start exploring them! Let's leave the past in the past!

-----

Hi, I'm Katie, an eight-years-on-and-off veteran at this ol' Idol game. Because I'm a veteran, and expecting that I would be mostly speaking to other veterans here, I just jumped in with the most recent update, or the news they may have missed from where things dropped a few years ago. I do this sometimes; shoot back to a conversation from a long time ago and just pick it up again, expecting everyone to come with me. You'll get used to it. I shoot forwards, too. "When we get to where we're going, it's going to be amazing, you'll see."

Obviously, from the above, I do also believe that our loving God has a plan for our lives, although it's still our choice whether or not to cooperate. So, still a Christian, very much. Still an accountant, at least in theory, but that has been a while. Still a creative soul who loves buying new notebooks and hates buying new clothes. And if the Garth Brooks song I linked isn't enough of a clue, still a big fan of country music. And jazz, and bubblegum pop from the early 00's, and comedy with significant intellect behind it. Still more into cake than exercise.

But also, I think, more seasoned. More a fan of classical/instrumental music than I was. Better at baking, more into barbecue potato chips and trashy tv, wearer of skirts more often. Less into hoodies, chick-lit, social media, and sliiiightly less into hoarding.

-----

Still into sleeping long, long sessions, sometimes, and still tossing and turning when it eludes me, at others.

And given that I am now starting to nod off, I think I need to leave it there. Let the games begin!

LJI 10 wk10: Take a hike!

2017-03-03T00:51:44Z

Four times in the past week/ten days I've confessed something that prior to now I have been keeping locked inside:

~~I don't really want a job. What I want is to get married and have lots of babies and stay at home and look after them.~~

The dilemma I have, though, is that I can't do those things by myself. There's no one on the scene and being the older side of 30, I've gotten kinda picky. Well, not even that, just that the suitable guys are very very few and far between.

First of all, Christian. All of my non-Christian friends think that I'm being unfairly prejudiced by this, because they do know a good number of "nice blokes" who they think would be good partners without this "optional extra". I've said, "feel free to introduce me", but nothing has come from that -- perhaps God does move in mysterious ways. But it really isn't an optional extra, for so many practical reasons. Even things like, I want to be able to talk in detail about sermons I've heard or books I've read, not to mention having someone to pray for me every day, knowing our lives are heading in the same directions because we have the same Holy Spirit guiding us both and having a partner with whom to join in on holy adventures. Although a single Christian guy between the ages of, say, 31 and 37, is, in itself hard to come by.

But then there are all the other things that are on the list, even if all the world were Christians. To take just the top few things from that list, without being overly picky -- kind, intellectual, good dancer, preferably an N type (from Myers-Briggs) (just because communicating information is going to be so much easier between two N types than it would be between me and an S type). And yes, there are lots of Christian blokes who would make great partners for someone even though they don't even know what ballroom hold is. But those men are not the partner for Katie. Because Katie could not be happily married to someone to who would never dance with her, even if it's only in the kitchen (although she is a bit of a show-off too). That's just the way it is. The way she is. The way I am. And the same is true for someone I couldn't hold an intellectual conversation with. I could go on, but the picture is already very clear, and we're still only about 5 items down the list.

I'm probably going to have to go a long, long way to find the right person for me.

LJI 10 wk 9: Trolley problem

2017-02-22T00:33:59Z

"Well, all my friends are doing it!"
"If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump off too?"

Hands up who remembers that conversation from their youth? *raises hand* Usually code for "Stop being an idiot!" +/- an undertone of "I'm supposed to be the adult here! Why is it so hard to just get them to behave?"

How about the follow-up facebook meme,
"If all my friends jumped off a bridge, I wouldn't jump with them. I'd be at the bottom and try to catch them;" is that familiar?

And whilst both worthy sentiments in their own way, who else has ever thought they were both still lacking? Or is that just me?

Today I encountered the reason why I think it is; picture the scene:

Jesus has been healing people, including giving sight to the blind, which was a clear indicator that He's the Messiah (The Holy One, the One Who Came From God), but He was about to get lynched for "blasphemy" for saying He's the Son of God, so He's been hiding out. Gets the news that His friend Lazarus is gravely ill, and then that he's dead (sorry, pun not intended). And Jesus wants to go back. The others remind Jesus about the mob who'd tried to stone him, but He's going anyway; in what is possibly one of the most loving acts in the whole bible, 'Then Thomas (also known as Didymus[which means Twin ~~although I don't know why they didn't just say that~~]) said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” ' [John Ch 11 v 16]

How beautiful is that? Real friendship, being so in it together, even to the point of death. Sometimes, more people dying is worth the cost, because living and dying with honour -- for example, to show a friend you've got their back -- are worth more than sheer number of days in one's life. "Let us... die with him."

That's the thing that's been missing. Jumping off a bridge when all your friends do isn't always such a bad idea afterall.

But who is really living that life? Who has people that close to them? Family grows up and moves away. I can't remember the last time I saw my sister without makeup on. Not that there's anything wrong with makeup, but it's such a tangible symbol of who is on the "inside" of her life, and who is in the wider circle. And adult friendships don't really have enough time together, and certainly not without appointment, these days, to really be 'in it together' with each other. My sister lives 10 minutes walk away from me now. And I've called on her precisely the same amount of times as I did when she lived an hour's drive away, or four hours' drive away, or on the opposite side of the world; which is to say, exactly zero. Because I assume she'll be busy. I know it's a two-way street. But I think everyone is going through this, these days.

The only exceptions I can think of, whether in books or in real life, is when people are in life-or-death situations together. Or at any rate, something with high stakes. Which is why people get married and form their own nuclear families, because those people do see each other every day, are (for the most part) on the inside of each other's lives.

Chance'd be a fine thing, for that, eh?

LJI 10 wk 8: No Comment

2017-02-11T01:51:50Z

Things I didn't say

Dear Graham,

I really appreciate your friendship, and the way you've always supported me. Never talked down to me, despite our age gap, but really seen me as an equal.

We are, in a small way, part of each other, and we both know that and respect it, but it goes unspoken in our friendship.

And this unspokenness does leave me anxious over where we stand. But I don't want to say it and then ruin things, and I particularly don't want to have gotten the wrong end of the stick.

Please tell me I'm right that we were dating, briefly, however-many years ago that was? 2010, maybe.

You came to my birthday party, you were one of the only ones who did, and you gave me such a thoughtful card. I've still got it. Plus a couple of lunches... 4 occasions in total, if I recall correctly.

My mate Jon used to tease me about us -- he thought you were my dad! But then when I explained, he teased me for how slowly our 'relationship' was going. From my perspective, we were dating, you and I, just... very slowly. Like, three weeks without texting each other wasn't a big deal, I just hadn't gotten around to it yet. At the time Jon was dating his now-wife so he'd say "I don't go more than 4 hours without speaking to her!" And I'd ~~say~~ think "What's that got to do with anything? That's you, not me!"

But that's probably why it took three quarters of a year! Coz I remember kind of panicking when you invited me out the first time and polling facebook -- or LJ, I was probably still on LJ regularly back then -- about was this a date or not. My American friends all said yes, but I think they call dates what we Brits would still call "meetings", in the getting-to-know someone stage, so I asked my sister and she said "If it starts with 'I've noticed from facebook that you've been quite down lately' then no, it's not a date!" Must have been 2010. That's when my Nan died, and why I was quite down. But that was January, my birthday is in August, and I think it was September when I wondered if you were going to kiss me and I panicked like I did when I was 14... don't people normally ask before they do that kind of thing?? Then we didn't see each other for quite a while.

But we never spoke about all of this, we've just carried on as friends, except not-quite just friends. As I said, we're part of each other, but only a little bit.

Either way, as dates or as mates... I owe you so much money. You've paid more times than I can count, and I'm sorry for taking advantage of that. Money runs through my fingers like water, so even though I've been paying for my own share on recent adventures, we've never had an adventure on a day I've actually had enough money to get for us both, and we should. A lot of times.

So, I really enjoy seeing you, but I always wonder about it quite a lot in advance -- and in retrospect.

I wanted to talk to you about all of this. This is why I suggested a walk today, and not just lunch, coz it would be easier to bring up side to side when we're not looking at each other, than across a table when we were. I thought about it. I was going to do it. I can pinpoint the moment my courage failed and I just asked a question, instead. I had no idea how, what to say.

And I don't want to break what we do have.

I'm sorry.

Love in Christ,
Katie.

LJI 10 wk 7: Where I'm from

2017-02-01T00:59:09Z

Katie: An annotated manifesto about being Katie

First things first, let's kick things off with your Banner Belief, the one that must shape all of the others:
Christianity is true. It's also the most beautiful thing you've ever encountered, but it's only beautiful, because it is true.

Everyone is as important as everyone else. There is not one single person who was not made in the image of the living God. There is not one single person who hasn't screwed this up. There is not one single person for whom Jesus was unwilling to die. There is not one single person whom the living God does not want to be in close personal relationship with. You really get this.

It comes across as insensitive sometimes, in political/para-political discussions among your left-leaning friends, because you don't particularly actively prioritise the voices of the marginalised, you just do what you always do, which is endeavour to make space, equal space, for all voices, in every conversation. You know that some people would consider this as part of siding with the oppressor, but honestly, you don't really get that, because you make sure to make space to represent those voices in other conversations, with people who would never have dreamed of considering that perspective, so you don't see the issue.

You don't believe that anybody owes anybody else anything. Yes, including compassion. That the only answer to the question "Why should I care about other people?" is "Because I want to be the sort of person that cares about other people." Nothing at all to do with whether or not they deserve it.

Speaking of which, you accept the logical implication of the above, that says that just because a person has a need, a real, legitimate, need, that need does not by itself obligate anyone else to fulfil it. Again, everyone has the choice of what sort of person do they want to be?

You understand that in a circumstance where a person has been treated badly by another person (or multiple other people), there are only three options: become enraged (including bitter and vengeful), become defeated, or forgive, and that again, it comes down to the question of which sort of person do you want to be? You also understand that forgiveness is the only option that is actually helpful towards moving on from the event. You do not accept the notion that people are "entitled" to their vengeance. They have a straight choice about the matter.

Following on from that, you do appreciate that everyone has a need for their own personal story to be heard, and validated. For someone to affirm that their response is understandable, which you do, whenever you can. You just don't accept that understanding someone's story is the same thing as saying that the person made wise choices.

You believe everyone is responsible for their own feelings. No-one can make another person angry, or any other emotion, for that matter. You believe that people are entitled to their feelings, of course, and also that feelings are important, but, that they can be largely irrelevant when seeking a way to move forward. Yell, scream, cry, punch a pillow, throw things, hug a pillow, journal, break down sobbing, do whatever it takes to work through the feelings in private, but with others, with the person that the issue is with, the issue really isn't who was at fault, but what is the most helpful solution given where you're at.

--

You believe that all of the above applies to you, too. Pride was never your problem, particularly, unless it's the more insidious kind, but, your self esteem has finally come along far enough to believe that you are as good as everyone else.

LJI 10 wk 6: Heel turn

2017-01-23T23:59:48Z

I think I've reached burnout.

Lord, how many are my foes!
How many rise up against me!

Never happened to me before. I have always ~so passionately~ believed that there is room for improvement, and not just that, but that humans are actually capable of pulling together to achieve it.

Even a few days ago, I passionately believed this.

In fact, I didn't have much patience for people who were fairly arbitrary about declaring "enough is enough" based on things like their own energy levels. But I suppose it's true that my energy levels will eventually recuperate.

Many are saying of me,
“God will not deliver him.”

There is always SO. MUCH. that needs doing. That is important. Everyone wants something -- time, money, awareness -- But pressing on in the most important issues was getting us somewhere, wasn't it? Even if it was slowly?

No, it wasn't.

A lot more things were getting swept under the carpet. Like the largest and fastest-growing international crime (happening within borders as well as without). Human trafficking. With as many victims as there are people in ~~Canada~~ Sudan, and two new ones every minute.(1)(2)

And everybody's looking the other way -- looking at something else that's important, but not as important. Fill in the blank yourself here -- if you see the news (or facebook, which in my experience, is becoming ever-more political, kinda like LJ did in Russia) -- then you know what a lot of people are talking about.

But the problems getting worse just makes any perceived progress we had, ring hollow. Futile.

I am now, for the first time I can remember seriously wonder what is the point of trying to change things, when there is always more that wants something, and the most important issues are not even getting any attention.

But you, Lord, are a shield around me,
my glory, the One who lifts my head high.

That being said, there is still a God in Heaven. The local charity working to prevent human trafficking in the UK, in Staffordshire, where I live, referenced David and Goliath(3) in their most recent talk, with the words "There is most definitely a giant to kill, let's not pretend that there isn't. But the LORD is still bigger than the giant."

And that rouses my spirit more than anything else. Hallelujah.

LJI 10 wk 4: “I don't skate to where the puck is. I skate to where the puck is going to be. "

2017-01-06T08:22:46Z

Trapped -- where I talk about toilet paper quite a lot

Recently I read an article about something I've known -- that I think all women know -- for a long time, but I haven't been able to put into words, or even thought about consciously, until now.

Women are the ones who notice.

Notice when they are running low on -- NOT, ran out of, but, running low on -- toilet paper. And Everything Else.

||She is the person who knows not only that coffee is essential, but also that using the wrong toothpaste is the kind of thing that can seriously ruin a child’s morning—not to mention their parents.||

And because of that, women work harder than men, because this noticing, it is work too.

---

I could do that, this noticing. Taking care of people and meeting their needs.

I am more than ready for this.

This kind of life has been long overdue for me, extra work or not. (Or this noticing and the advance planning that goes with it can just be put on the list and divided up the same as cleaning the bathroom and doing the school run?)

Not only my soul, but my spirit, is deeply, deeply, craving this kind of life. Loving my people, leading them and taking care of them. Something I was born to do, I think. Something I would work at forever, and not tire of.

---

This is not the kind of life I actually have. And I don't know how to get there.

Of course, there are some steps that are reasonably obvious, and it starts with being financially independent, which I'm not. Or it starts with falling in love again (ugh!). Because it is very much something I want to offer to loved ones, to my people. Not something I want to do for myself. From my perspective, the whole thing is tied up in it being a gift, a service, a ministry. There's no motivation at all, aside from basic need, to do the work that keeps myself going, keeps me in toilet paper and clean socks, and I do it reluctantly; there is in the spirit-calling of caring for my own family, though, if I had one.

---

And in my current life (I think this is what hurts the most about it), is that I don't get to make any decisions. Not really. There is stuff I could be doing... but everything is something that somebody else wants for me. My Mum. My Dad. My family. My work coach at the job centre. My consultant at Slimming World. My friends.

The only good options I have to move my life forward are all things that people are already breathing down my neck about, asking why I haven't done it already. And saying they don't understand me, without actually stopping to really ask why.

And I hate it. I fight it tooth and nail. I won't let them own me.

So I take the only choices I can, the only ones that are truly mine to take. The BAD choices.

This marks the third all-nighter, and the fourth whole box of chocolates I've eaten in one night, in the past week. Sabotage. It's the only thing left that's mine.

I hate it. But I do it anyway.
(For the record, my Slimming World consultant is lovely but won't stand for excuses. This isn't really about her, though. Breaking the diet is about one-in-the-eye for everyone else who wants me to do well, but can't resist monitoring and making judgey comments about whatever I do eat. And the fact that I'm not allowed to cook the food that I want, the lovely recipes I hear about in group every week, and the fact that I am not buying the food, and the fact that I need to ask -- beg, it feels like -- "can I have this or are you saving it for something in particular?" over every little thing. Like I said, bad choices.)

I hate it. I feel so trapped!

---

They -- my family -- probably think I'm lazy. They're not entirely wrong, but they just don't get that there's more to it than that. It would be a lot more accurate to say I've become apathetic. I don't know how to change it.

---

A wise person would see this writing on the wall and come up with a strategy to overcome it -- or to get around it. Find the good choice that does not involve giving up, or giving in.

I am a smart person. But I can't see one. I don't see anything in front of me except bad choices.

LJI 10, week 3 -- Brushback pitch

2016-12-16T00:55:11Z

One small step

I have not very well mastered the art of getting out of my own way. The ability to achieve the dreams and goals I set for myself without then turning right around and sabotaging my own plans.

Wanting a closer connection with the Divine... and then not picking up my bible for a week.
Investing money and time in committing to Slimming World... but still eating both butter and nutella straight out of the packet.
Getting down about not being gainfully employed... but finding the application form just that bit too hard to fill in articulately, until the deadline passes, again.
Or taking on extra responsibilities... and still staying up as late as I used to; burning the candle at both ends until it burns out.
Ending a relationship with somebody, the one that should have worked but actually didn't... then continuing to think about them every day, almost all day, in any idle moment, for a long time after that.

I always sabotage myself. I always step that bit too close to -- or just over -- the line. Not so far that I give up on what I claim to want, just that I make it too hard to achieve.

And achieving things is hard. It is very very scary.

I am still new to this art, but I do now have one or two more pieces of the puzzle to move forward, than I did even a week ago. A truth that's blindingly obvious and very easy to miss at the same time, is that nothing happens in isolation. Actions have consequences, and the pattern will repeat. Or, to put it another way, if nothing changes, then nothing will change. The thing that's necessary, the trick, I've found, is to figure out how to see it coming. How to see the consequence at the same time as seeing the thing that will cause it.

I'm never going to see what (and who) the future will hold for me if I am still listening to breakup songs.
I'm always going to have another week feeling frustrated and sorry for myself in front of everyone at group until I plan ahead what I am going to eat, and choose to stick to it, even in the face of free mince pies in the office.
I won't be able to do well the next day if I'm only getting a few hours' sleep.

It's about wanting it. Wanting it enoughh. Being more scared or disgusted or uncomfortable with the status quo than I would be with the process of changing.

It is hard. It is still hard and scary. Very hard and scary. Climbing the sheer wall of a pit by my fingernails kind of hard-and-scary. Taking all my courage into both hands to make a tiny tiny step forwards, and making sure to hold on to it until the thing is done.

But, somehow, that sheer wall does become just a bit easier to climb if the pit gets filled with poisonous snakes! When what's behind becomes a worse option than what lies ahead, then I will move. Even if it's just a little bit, at first. Just enough to keep me away from that line.

----
Concrit welcome as always. Details of the poll when it goes up (assuming I remember...)

LJI 10 wk 2 -- That one friend

2016-12-04T18:18:08Z

House of Cards

The house of cards that was my friendship with Emma crashed down around five years ago, when she told me she had gotten skin cancer (from too many sunbeds). And I flat-out didn't believe her.

*****

It began about a decade and a half before that, as all friendships do when you're 11 -- proximity, and to some extent, lack of other options. We'd both been odd-ducks and loners at primary school, but in different classes, so it wasn't until secondary school that two years of sitting together for English got us better acquainted. She was the only one to admire my really cool folder.

Wicked-funny and razor-sharp, she introduced me to new music and managed to pull a large circle of people around her in the early part of high school, which, to a still-loner like me, without many friends, made her really cool. Leader of the gang, by far. Though she did have the habit, every time she came to my house, of going through all of the cupboards to check that our food was still in date. It was only much later I realised that she was lonely, too; more acquaintances basically meant more politics, not more friendship. My mum didn't like her much.

Good reason for that. There were a few, shall we say, "incidents".

Once Emma and one other girl and I were out for a walk and ended up at The Dingle. A local beauty spot with a lake, a bit further afield than I usually strayed. Well, having been back as an adult, it's really more of a large pond than a lake. But, it was a lake when we were eleven. And I ended up in it. Emma didn't push me in -- she was far too smart for that. She pushed Liz, who careered into the back of me, and I overbalanced. Then Emma grabbed the back of Liz's shirt, and kept her dry. Emma maintained she tripped. Liz maintained she didn't. And Liz became one of my closest friends towards the end of high school and into early adulthood.

Similarly, when a large gang were harassing me -- culminating in our front window getting smashed -- Emma was very clearly and obviously standing at the end of the street, out of the way of direct accusation. But nobody doubted at the time that they were all working off her orders.

Later, I did. Could she have been hanging back to avoid getting involved in that vandalism? I don't know. That would make sense of her later telling me who it was that had done it, although in that case, God only knows who's idea it was, then. Who was my enemy that night? Not that Emma was entirely sweetness and light and just misunderstood. That folder I had in English, that she really liked? I told her where to get it from, thrilled with the idea of being the trend setter for once. Emma asked when I was going to stop using mine, because "[she did]n't want the same folder that the school freak ha[d]," and that kind of ribbing was de rigeur from her as well. But Emma's mum is the one who taught me to cross stitch.

*****

It was over a decade later we remade contact; Emma left the school after -- or towards the end of -- those two years. I think she had a nervous breakdown, and then moved to a much smaller school a way away. After I'd left university -- the local one -- I found out via facebook that Emma and I had a surprising mutual friend, someone I knew from the chapel. Emma had slotted into a flatshare with her as a random loner. Not much changes. There was one night we were messaging, and Emma just said, "I'm coming to pick you up, I'll be there in 20 minutes." Whilst Heather and her friends slept, Emma and I stayed up all night in that flat, talking, going over everything from the past, escaping at first light before the others woke up. She missed me. She made me laugh again, so I kinda missed her too, and she had no recollection at all about the front window incident.

Turns out that Emma had been seriously mentally ill for nearly all of her life -- I'm talking psychosis rather than depression, although there was probably that too. If I remember correctly, she was also schizophrenic. And had borderline personality disorder. And had circulation problems, meaning she was always very cold. And was anorexic/bulimic and addicted to exercise. To name a few, before we even get into the drugs, alcohol and cigarettes she was taking.

We re-established contact after that one night, meeting up to go to the cinema or to hobbycraft or just to hang out at hers (my Mum still didn't like her), and some of these things came out afterwards. I got to know her Dad a bit then, a dear old man who didn't know what to do for the best to look after Emma. They were both still grieving for Emma's mum (and probably always would be), but not together. Not really.

She was still just as funny as ever. I remember this one conversation -- for some reason we got to talking about beans.
E: I love [baked] beans, I do
Me: Urgh, I don't, I hate them.
E: No, I love them, and nothing you can say or do is going to ruin them for me.
...
...
Well, unless you wee'd on them, or something.
Me: I wouldn't do that!!! I'm a lady!!
E: I love your definition of class, Katie. 'Won't wee on beans.'
We both fell about laughing after that!!

There were some weird occasions, though, amongst the fun. Emma finding two random dudes who both ended up back at hers with us, she and them taking cocaine for hours, me mostly twiddling my thumbs (I had never been interested in taking any, but I didn't have anything better to do that evening, so I tagged along. Again, nothing ever changes). It's definitely one of those moments I look back on and think "...did that really happen?"

We spontaneously went on a cross-country trip once. Emma was travelling north to meet her friends from Newcastle Upon Tyne, and she invited me. Turns out, if you're friends with Emma, you CAN just up and go away for five days, because she'd booked a suite at the hotel anyway, and she always buys two train tickets because she was a snob and didn't want to sit next to a random person on the train. I forgot to mention that at this point, she was rich. Filthy, filthy rich. Well, kinda always had been, but I didn't know that when we were children, and she was even richer now with her own money to add to the family wealth. She drove a bright pink convertible sports car and copyrighted the paint colour. I don't know if she ever got the Swarovski crystals embedded round the steering wheel, though. And whilst we were in Newcastle Upon Tyne, she bought a flat. Outright. Just went for a jog one morning, came back and said, I've bought a flat. As you do.

Wealth and (my) poverty aside, though, we didn't have much in common. We felt it was important to connect because of the past, and I pitied her, and she did make me laugh. And she didn't have any other friends, really (nothing ever changes), so I kind of felt obliged to be her friend, which I'd do a lot less of these days, but I did at the time. I've since studied Myers-Briggs Personality Theory quite a bit since then, and I don't think we were similar on that scale, so we found it pretty hard to relate to each other, and we weren't natural companions.

I was growing tired of the friendship, but how do you say that when you're staying friends out of pity, or because of the past? We never had much to say when we spoke on the phone, nor even after she sent me train tickets for another visit up north, which I think terminated early. And over the two, three years since the all-nighter at the university, every time I'd seen Emma, she talked about something else being wrong with her. I discussed the situation with a couple of other friends and I became quite strongly convinced I was being manipulated for the attention, amongst other things. Not that I knew what to do about it, really.

Until she said she had cancer. And I flat-out didn't believe her.

*****

I have to admit, I was a coward. I didn't speak to her, I just dodged her calls. I dodged her calls for four months. I dodged half a dozen or more phone calls a day, in the end. I'm not proud of that, but that's what happened. I never intended it to be that, I only intended to dodge them for a few days until I could figure out what to say. A few days, a few days, a few days... four months. I then ended up texting her, saying, "I've sent you an email." Turns out, I got her email address wrong. I never re-sent it when she texted me the correct one.

*****

And that was the end of Emma and Katie.

I heard through the grapevine that Barrie, that dear old man, had sold his house and moved up to Newcastle Upon Tyne to be nearer to Emma. That dear old man who had lived all his married life and part of his widowhood in the one house. Who would have, given the opportunity, have died there, of that I am sure. He sold up, because his only daughter, his only child, his only family, would not move back down here. And I do get that. She had friends and opportunities -- and property -- up there, and only bad memories from living just around the corner from the high school. I don't blame her for that, but I do feel sad for him.

And I still think about her, sometimes. And I think about my cowardice. And I wonder, what did happen, and what might have? And I think, is Emma still alive, or is she dead? Was she lying, or did she tell the truth?

And I'll have to live with not knowing.

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As always, concrit appreciated, and thanks for reading if you made it this far. Poll details here: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/956559.html

LJI 10, wk 0: Introduction

2016-11-09T07:26:33Z

A chorus of hellos

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Good morning, Almighty Father. Thank You that I am alive and awake, ready to face another day. Spirit of Jesus, fill me and guide me to make wise decisions and to walk in step with You today. Amen.

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Hi Mum, welcome back! How was your holiday home? The washing machine is free and all the dishes are done; do you want me to make some dinner or is your hubby going to do it?

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Hi Grandma, how are you? Sorry, did we wake you? Do you still know who we are?

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"Good morning, and welcome to worship here at the Baptist Church."

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~ Hi, black tea please
~ "Is this ok, or shall I water it down a bit?"
~ That's fine, as long as you give me a full cup, haha! So many times I ask for black tea and everyone still leaves room for milk. Hope you've got some nice biscuits out today?

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~ "Hi Katie, your hair's growing back quickly!"
~ Well, it was the end of August I had it shaved off
~ "You know, it really suits you shorter. How much did you raise in the end?"

[[This conversation will occur 4 times on the average Sunday]]

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~ Good sermon, Nik. Just wanted to follow up about musicians you were asking for for Sunday mornings. I'm certainly not promising anything, but if you give me some music to look over in advance, I will practice it and see if I could do it.
~ That's great, what instrument do you play?

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~ "Hello, this is the Medical Centre. I'm sorry to say, I need to cancel your appointment for today, the doctor himself is ill. Is it a medical emergency?"
~ No, it's not. When else can you fit me in?

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Hey sis! Any more boxes you need shifting?

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"Good evening everyone! Once again we've got lots of lovely weight losses in this group, I'm really pleased and proud of you all! Give yourselves a round of applause!"

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*ring, ring*
Hi Dad. Sorry it's been ages, but nothing new is going on, y'know? Just the same old, same old, lather, rinse, repeat.

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~ "How are we?"
~ I am fine, I keep telling you I'm only one person.
~ "I know, sorry, it's from Margaret Thatcher."
~ How are the roads, what's the traffic like?
~ "They're fine. Apologies again for needing to cancel both your lessons last week."

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~ Hi Grandad, come on in. I think dinner's nearly ready.
~ "Hi Katie, good to see you. I've just got some power of attorney stuff to give to your Mum."

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Hello, city centre, please. Sorry, I've only got a fiver, do you have change?

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~ "Hi Katie, I've got a really exciting job opportunity here for you."
~ Brilliant, thanks Julie. Here's my list of the one's I've applied for myself.

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*hug*
~ Hi bestie, how have you been?
~ "Good, ta. Your favourite 3 year old is in the car."
...
~ Hi Darling, I've missed you! Would you like a cuddle from Auntie Katie?

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Hi Viv, Rosie. Hi Alan. What did you all think of the new music he emailed? Probably a bit above my level even for the beginner's group.
...
Hi Steve. Have you got a spare case for this accordion, please? The hinge has rusted through on mine.

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Hi doc, are you feeling better? I'm here to talk about the dose of my prescription, and also, it's time for my annual check-up to see if I have diabetes, so I need a chit for a blood test, please.

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~ "Hi Katie, what can I get you? Your usual?"
~ Hi Steph, yes thanks, that's great. Are my brother-in-law's family here yet?
...
~ Hi sis, hi everyone! ... You're his brother's girlfriend, is that right? Sorry, we haven't been introduced.
~ "Yes we have, we've met a couple of times before now and I saw you at the wedding."
~ Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't recognise you. I have face-blindness. I tend to recognise people by their voice or their gait or -
[sister] ~ "- that's not a real thing!!"
~ Yes it is, and I've got it! Think about it. How many times have you heard me have this exact conversation?
~ "Well, I suppose. Why do you have it? Where did it come from?"
~ I don't know. It just is.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________
This is a slightly-fictionalised, but representative, week in my life, by means of all the people I'd say hello to. There's only one character I made up. (It's Alan. I don't know that many people at accordion club yet.)

I'll link to the poll when it goes up (if there is a poll for week 0).

Forgiveness

2014-08-05T23:57:48Z

As I bit my bottom lip and threw my head back, my left hand gripped the arm of the sofa. "Ben" proffered his left arm to my right hand.
"You can squeeze it harder if you like."
"Thanks. I will in a minute, if I need to."
"If I thought it'd be appropriate, I'd let you bite my arm."
"Um, thanks? I don't think I'll be doing that though. Not unless I really need to."
"Well, the offer's there."
"Thank you."

We have a really strong, really weird connection, Ben and I. I'm sure there are many people who, if they were a fly on the wall of our conversations, would get the wrong idea about us. For example, the above was from tonight, after I'd been sitting on my feet, and they were then filled with pins and needles. Excruciating, for few seconds.

There's a deep... acceptance... that runs between us. We're also really touchy-touchy, in a completely natural way; before I put my hand on his arm, for example, I think it had been on his thigh.

Yet, we're friends. NOT friends-with-benefits. Not potential friends-with-benefits. Not something-there's-always-a-lingering-question-mark-over-and-it's-only-a-matter-of-time. NOT someone I'm going to have an affair with. Friends.

[I often think, when I see Ben, "If my life were a soap opera, Ben and I would commence an affair right about... now. Thank God my life is not a soap opera! I don't want to have an affair with Ben! ...I've probably watched one too many soap operas..."]

It pains me to say it, but I couldn't imagine my beloved offering to let me bite his arm when I have pins and needles. We just don't have that kind of relationship. It pains me even more to say it, especially knowing my beloved will be reading, but I could imagine my we're-a-terrible-fit-why-did-we-even-try-it ex... doing the same thing. Letting me bite his arm, if I needed to. That would be no big deal. The only thing the ex and I ever had going for us is that we ~~are~~ were always able to be completely honest with each other, even when it hurts. Ben and I are still polite to each other, and we do have limits, but we, too, can be very honest with each other emotionally. But these are the only two people I've had that with.

Well, that's not quite true. My sister is always able to give it to me straight. She's kind of the only one who can reign me in when I've gone too far. And my Dad, but still.

I examined what all of these have in common. Why is it completely natural for Ben to offer to let me bite his arm, and completely unnatural to picture Mike doing the same?

Because I've really hurt Ben. There was one time we kinda-maybe were going to get together (oooh, seven? years ago? a long time). Making an entry on the List of Top Ten Worst Things I've Ever Done, I, ahem, made it very clear to Ben that I preferred the aforementioned ex. And then was so consumed by guilt that I rung him up to tell him... the night before his finals. (Don't worry, that makes The List too! ~~As does threatening my sister with a carving knife when I was a teenager, but we won't go in to that now...~~)

Yet Ben has stayed in my life, and here we are. The ex and I tore each other apart on a regular, probably weekly basis. Hanging up on each other was common behaviour, as was one or the other of us ending up in tears. And the closer we got, the more we fought. But we stuck it out, at least for a time, and in return, we get honesty. It dawned on me: this is what forgiveness looks like. Real forgiveness.

And, Mike and I just... don't have that much to forgive each other for. I have learned my lessons, and we both try really, really hard to be patient with each other, to listen to the other person's perspective, to compromise as much as we can or to reaffirm that we love each other even when we have to agree to disagree. We're almost textbook about it. Famously, we had a four-minute-fight once. Most of our fights are storms in tea-cups. We love each other, and we're really happy.

And until today, I never thought that was a bad thing.