Lent Day Twentyfour – From a distance

 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fky1dfANPiI&feature=related)

In Revelations the announcement is made “The dwelling of God is with men”; and many times I have encountered God in places removed from the sacred space we call “church”.  God reaches me whilst relaxing on a park beach, sat in a cinema or theatre, or just lay on my bed; God is never confined to any particularly space and time.

And yet, I have always had a fascination and awe for some of the familiar sacred places that have stood for many hundreds of years, witnessing to a faith in my Jesus.  One of those places is York Minister.    The first time I went to the minister was on a school trip to York, aged 11, on a lovely spring day when the blossom was on the trees and York’s majestic architecture appeared stunning to my young enquiring mind.   We did all the usual tourist sites – the Shambles and the City Walls, picnic down by the river, visited the Railway Museum and a guided tour around the Minister.

It was the first Cathedral I had ever been in. As I entered I recall the experience of feeling so very small, yet surrounded by a God who was suddenly far bigger than I had previously imagined.   As I looked up to the Rose Window and the High Altar suddenly my understanding of God and history and faith was challenged, and I liked what I saw.   As I stood there among  Saxons 1 (my class) listening to the teacher explaining about the window, I was filled with an overwhelming sense that this great faith story was part of me, and I was involved in something even bigger than I ever dared to ask or imagine.

There in that sacred place I encountered God in a moment of sacred dedication, as my rowdy class mates tried out the kneelers and spoke too loud, making their voices echo around the sacred walls.   I had to fight back the tears and make out that I had a headache to cover my emotion.  For there in that vast and holy place I had an Isaiah experience and caught a glimpse of the Lord seated on his throne, and I was lost in wonder, love and praise.

In my life time York Minister has been a place of controversy.  When the 80’s the 13th Century South Transept was mysteriously struck by lightning, causing considerable damage, followed by all the theological dilemmas that abounded about the wrath of God and heretical Bishops.   And yet the Minster rose again from the ashes, it survived to tell the story, and again reminded me of a God who is so much bigger than we are, yet so active in our lives.   (No I’m not suggesting God sent the lightening, but I am saying he brings healing and builds us up again). Hallelujah!

 

My Prayer:

Gracious Lord,  thank you that you have stood the test of time.  That the faith we share today has been experienced by many people and despite our failures and mistakes you build us up again.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again of your faithfulness, your strength and also your intimacy, so I may always be lost in wonder, love and praise of you.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Day Twenty three – When I fall in love

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhJKgdzAJ9o

His name was Stephen and he was 11 years old, I was 10. He was in the final year of junior school; I was the year below him. He was gorgeous – strawberry blond hair and sparking blue eyes.   When he looked at me, I could feel the heat in my checks as I blushed. When he spoke to me I turned into a giggling wreck.  Our first kiss was behind the coal bunker at school, a quick peck on the cheek, but I just drifted around on cloud nine for the rest of the week.  After that he called me darling.  I felt so special, he was my boyfriend, Sometimes he would come and sit with me in the playground at break time, but not too often,  as I was a girl after all!

We didn’t do dates, we were far too young, but I knew he was my boyfriend so that was great.  Some days we didn’t acknowledge each other at all, but I told myself this is how grown ups were so that was cool, even though inside I was a bit sad when that happened.

One day I got to school and the school gossip was that Stephen was emigrating to Australia.  I wasn’t sure what they meant by emigrating, but I did know Australia was a long way away.    Why hadn’t he told me himself?  Maybe it wasn’t true, just a bad joke from some jealous friends.  Yet in time I discovered it was true, and his family were going within a month of this announcement.  He never told me himself; in fact he never really spoke to me again until the last day at school when he kissed so many girls that by the time he got around to me I didn’t feel special any more.

The day he flew away I sat on the school field watching the planes going over and wondering if he was on one of them.  I shed a few tears there for my first love, thinking I could never love again.  Wrestling with the haunting question, what if there was only one person for me and this was my chance? What would now become of this broken-hearted ten year old?   Would I ever recover?  Of course, I did, although the boyfriends moving to remote parts of the world scenario did repeat itself twice after this, and each time it hurt.

I remember one time in my life whilst nursing the latest heart-break,  I read Joni Eareckson Tada’s Biography “Joni”.  In her book Joni writes about pain and she wrote something that Ive never forgot. She said it doesn’t matter what causes human pain, whether it is a teenager with a broken heart or the mental pain of quadriplegia (which is her story), God cares about out suffering and is there for us.  God doesn’t have a sliding scale for human pain, one kind being more important to him than another; he just wants to minister his peace when we hurt.  This has helped me to acknowledge that the pain of a broken hearted teenager is something that God really cares about, and wants to minister to.

There  really is a lot of pain yet a lot more healing, and all the pain I face today may not be the same as that 10 year old girl sat in the field staring longingly at the airplanes, yet there are still the similar feelings of loss and sadness.  The main difference for me today is that I know God shares my pain and sit  with me looking longingly into the middle distance, sharing the mess and bringing his peace.         

In moments when I am aware of this I know again that the only love that lasts forever is God’s love, for as fantastic and exciting as human love can be it is always  a pale shadow of God’s amazing love for me.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father, for the joy of human love, which is a gift from you.  Thank you for the way you show your love to us by allowing us to share life together.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that all human love is to reflect your great love to us.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Day Twenty Two – Alone again

 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P-v1BVQn8&feature=related)

Some encounters with God are a bit like Psalm 88, there doesn’t seem to be any happy ending or resolve.  The following I found on a piece of paper pushed in the back of my Bible, dated September 1997.

Lonely?  Me – lonely?

But surely Lord I don’t get time to be lonely.

I’m much too busy to ever feel alone.

 

How can a mother be lonely?

There are always children to see to

Hair to brush,

Faces to wash,

Tears to dry, Never a dull moment;

Never a solitary day.

 

How can a housewife be lonely?

There is always so much to do;

Meals to cook,

Clothes to iron

Bright ideas to come up with.

Not to mention love to share

And fears to subside.

 

Lonely Lord?  Me?

How can I be lonely?

Surrounded by noise and chaos,

The routine of family life

Striving daily for happiness

And peace of mind.

Seeking to be all that is required of me

And to remain in one piece at the same time.

 

Lonely?  Me?

As the children sleep,

As my husband rests

As the day draws to a close.

Yes Father,  right now I feel so lonely

Are you there Lord?

 

My Prayer:

Thank You Father, that even when we feel alone you are always there to call upon and you know and care for every detail of our lives

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that you are a true friend.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Lent Day Twenty-one – I have a dream

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFHbwikzNds&feature=related

Let me take you with me on a fishing trip down by the Ashton Under Lyne canal near my childhood home.  It’s the end of the 60’s, and I am 8 years old.  I have my fishing net and jam jar with string around the top to make carrying it easier.  It’s a hot summer’s day in the long school holidays, and I don’t think twice about going down to the canal on my own.  These were the days when no one thought that a child being out alone was a problem.  (Although let’s not forget , not too long before Myra Hindley and Ian Brady were collecting kids from my doorstep and who were never seen again!).  Nevertheless, I still enjoyed the freedom to wander off alone and make my way down to the canal in search of “tiddlers”.  Sticklebacks were more common than anything, but sometime I would catch a leach or a snail, or some other little fish that I had no idea they were called, so tiddlers was the generic name for anything that went in the Jam Jar.

This particular day there was little human activity on the canal. A few kids throwing stones further up stream  from where I was, that was about it.   I found my spot and sat on the dirty ground under the road bridge and started to look for my first catch.  There were two ways to go about fishing for tidders.  One was leaving the net in the water and waiting patiently, the second was waiting for them to appear and then scooping very quickly, making a big splash.  Both techniques required sitting very quietly and very still, and both had a measure of success and failure.  I liked to sit on the bank with my feet in the water but because of the leaches this was forbidden by my mother!  This day I decided to abide by this seemingly ridiculous rule and sit on the bank with my legs to one side.

It was hot and very pleasant sat there; well it was if you didn’t mind the smell of the canal.  As I got older I liked that particular smell less and less.   I had already filled my jam jar with canal water, and soon I had my first stickleback, leech and a few other small things.   I stared at the water intently looking for my next victim, when suddenly I was distracted by a figure that seemed to just appear on the other side of the water.    As I looked up I saw a human figure reclining under the bridge.  He/she was very bright, and was watching me closely, smiling.  I was quite startled by this strange presence and yet I became transfixed on the image in front of me. My heart was beating faster, and I suddenly felt like I was in the presence of an angel. I tried to stand up quickly but my leg had gone dead underneath me, and in the attempt to get up I knocked my jam jar into the water, releasing today’s catch back into the wild. As I stood and looked over the water the image began to fade; a few blinks and I was totally alone again.

The urge to fish  had now vanished and I just climbed up the stairs of the bridge and ran home as fast as I could, with my fishing net in my hand, leaving the jam jar at the bottom on the canal.    When I got home no one was there, so I sat on the swing in the back garden and gently swung backwards and forwards singing my heart out with a real sense of happiness.

The adult Alison has remembered that moment often, and tried to explain it away.  Maybe it was simply the reflection of the Sun on the water under the bridge that day.  Maybe this was just like a rainbow of colour that I had seen often, but was suddenly more intense because I was tired and had been staring at the water for a long time.  Maybe it was nothing at all, just the imagination of a silly little girl bored during the long summer holidays.   Although, after saying all that, deep within my heart over 40 years later I still remember my encounter with God as he sent his angel to watch over me there.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father, for your angels are watching over us day and night whether we are aware of them or now. That you care for us so much, and that you are always at hand to guide and protect.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that your amazing love for me is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Lent Day Twenty – Sorry seems to be the hardest word

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVJ-CnWhsRM&feature=related

There are many things in life we take for granted, the love that surrounds us, food, comfort, warmth, health; things that until they are absent we don’t even think of.  I am totally unaware of how I need all the above to get through today, until one of them is missing and I feel loss and experience discomfort.

One thing I have taken for granted often is forgiveness.  I have always known that God forgives me, it has to be one of the first lessons I learned about Jesus – He forgives my sins.   If I did something wrong he would forgive me if I told him I was sorry, and I proved that to be true many times.  I used to think as a child that when I grow up I wouldn’t need forgiveness because I would no longer do anything wrong.  The experience of entire sanctification would be mine and I would no longer require forgiveness because I would no longer “sin”.   It seemed to make sense from the sermons I heard, that this is where I was heading and so I would not require to ask for forgiveness from God or anyone.

Well, I know it won’t come as a surprise, but I have not yet reached that point of perfection,  nor have I met many people who have (thank goodness), and yet my books on holiness teachings are still on my shelf behind me as a write this, and I still admire those who imply that it was possible, but I have my doubts now whether it is in this life.

Not long ago I needed forgiveness for something I did to a dear friend.  I won’t divulge what it was here because it was very personal and it should never have happened, and I was quite ashamed of my actions.   I let my friend down badly, and not just that but in trying to cover up what I did I only added to the hurt and disappointment.    I sincerely prayed about this and as always I felt God’s love and acceptance.   At times though God’s unconditional love comes with a course of required action and this meant putting it right with the person concerned.  That was the difficult bit.

When I came clean I was not immediately forgiven.  Far from it.  I had deeply hurt my friend and time was required before we could decide how to go forward, or whether there was any way we could grow from this and remain friends.   I then experienced something I don’t think I have ever known before, the feeling of not being forgiven.  It was like banging my fists against a brick wall, like shouting out in the dark.  To not be forgiven left me feeling helpless and powerless, desperate and sad.

Surely my friend could see my sincere sorrow and regret for what I had done; If I wasn’t truly sorry why would I have made the confession as I did?   But time was needed and all I could do was respect and wait.  Eventually we were able to talk it through and be friends again, and when I realised I was fully forgiven it was such a relief, like being released from prison and given a key to freedom again.

This was a really hard lesson for me to learn, yet through this experience I was able to learn something fresh about God’s forgiveness to me.  As a child I learned it was easy, and at times it really has seemed so; yet the way my friend acted,  the sadness, disappointment and hurt I saw in their eyes,  God also felt when at times I glibly  said “Sorry Lord”.   Yes it is true that nothing I can do today can mean God will love me less, but because God loves me so much I now know that often I break his heart too, yet still I encounter his forgiveness, because he loves me.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father that I learned forgiveness was easy and yet I’m still learning of the depth of your love for me and the act that even though it seems easy it breaks your heart.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that your death on the cross saw you reaching out to me in my sin and to the Father in his great mercy and through your pain and suffering you continue to make peace.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Lent Day Nineteen – No Regrets.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFRuLFR91e4

I watched Professor Brian Cox not too long ago as be began to explain the wonders  of the Universe to my really simple mind.  Somehow he managed to capture my imagination and excite me about things that are far too vast and wonderful for me to ever fully copmprehend.  Among all the amazing and fasiniating things he said about the interstellar medium, the asteroid belt, thermonuclear fusion and white dwafts, he also spoke of time and the destiny of our whole solar system.

He confidentially informed me that within 60 Million years the likelihood is that our sun will have collapsed into itself and become a white dwarf and our solar system would have gone.   He spoke about the inevitability of this and how the whole cosmos could not have formed and held life, without the sure and certain fact that death is inevitable  For with life always comes death, and our whole universe will be subject to this eventually.    There is no way we can stop this, no way we can begin to turn this around, we are moving from order to chaos and we can’t do a darn thing to change it.

I didn’t find this news too depressing, I think I already knew. But what I have found depressing and frustrating is when I have met people who really do want to turn back time, those who live in regret and spend their lives looking over their shoulder saying “if only!”

In one of my churches there were two teenagers – let’s call them Kath and Julie.  They were friends and had worshipped at the same church for a long time, and they were in the same school year.   That’s really about all they had in common. Julie finished school and went off to University to study for her degree, and Kath suddenly found herself pregnant.  Her family kicked her out and so she got a small house where her daughter was born.  Her little girl was so beautiful, such a delight.  The father never appeared, so Kath was alone in raising little Mary.    There was never a day when I visited her through those days of early motherhood where she didn’t say “I wish I could turn the clock back!” “I wish I had  gone to university like Julie”,   “I wish I had never got pregnant”.  For years, well until her daughter went to school,  she held these dark thoughts.  Julie graduated and got a god job, while Kath struggled on benefits and hand outs from people who genuinely cared and loved her.

I so wanted her to grasp the moment, to celebrate all she had; her beautiful home that many folks had helped her furnish, and her delightful growing daughter; with her white blond hair and bright blue eyes, growing more lovely each day.   Yet still Kath wanted to turn the clock back, she wanted to be like Julie and be independent and study and not be tied down with the responsibilities that were now hers.

There was never a time when I left a pastoral visit with Kath  that I didn’t feel such sadness and frustration from hearing  yet again that she wanted to go back in time, to be free and single.  Nothing I could say or encourage her to do positively lifted her from the regret and disappointment she was currently experiencing and her only prayer was for a miracle to change her situation.   I longed for her to encounter God in the here and now , but sadly that seemed to be a bridge too far!

My Prayer:

Thank You Father that you even when life doesn’t go the way we anticipated you are never far away, and you journey with us even when the roller coaster of life appears to be falling at a great rate of knots.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that you are in all the twists and turns, and even in the disappointments there are always points of blessing. Help us to see them Lord even when it’s hard.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Lent Day Eighteen– If Just One Person Believes in You

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_Rfjl6tGW4

One of my first jobs when leaving school was as an Office Junior for the regional office for the Christian denomination my family were very much involved in. (The Salvation Army Divisional Headquarters Manchester).   I loved my job, although when I started I couldn’t type and even my coffee making abilities were sadly lacking.  Within weeks I was sent on a course to learn to type, followed by an audio typing course.  At the same time my milky coffee making ability also greatly improving, and soon everyone looked forward to 10:30 morning coffee.  I also learned people favourite biscuits and as biscuit buying was part of my remit I would make sure that lemon puffs, pink wafers, milk chocolate digestive, and the occasional finger of fudge, were  served each morning to the correct recipients.  (There should be a chapter in “How to win friends and influence people” on making sure you get the correct biscuits to butter people up!)

I was extremely conscientious.  I worked hard to improve my administration skills in the days before computers were commonplace.  I remember the big heavy Underwood typewriter I leaned to type on, which seems light years away from my PC today. The keys were heavy and the act of moving the carriage along at the end of each line was an action I had quite forgot until now.   Not to mention the correction papers to amend my mistakes, and the little pots of white correction fluid that only seemed to make any corrections more obvious and embarrassing.   My spelling skills were not great either, and in the top drawer of my desk I kept a phonetic dictionary which was a real must and helped me greatly to decipher certain words from the audio tape that I had never heard before.

Thursday was post day, and the whole week led up to Thursday afternoon where everything had to be dispatched to all the churches for the weekend.  It was always hectic and often we would stay late to make sure it was all taken to the post office for the final collection of the day.  I never really minded working late, it was all part of being a team player and usually there was not too much stress.    I often stayed late anyway because I hated leaving work over to the next day, I liked to start the day with a clean desk, it felt good that way.   Before too long I had risen from being the  post of office Junior to the dizzy heights to Divisional Commanders Secretary, and I had my own office junior who never did perfect coffee making or the biscuit thing quite like I did.

In this environment I was so appreciated and encouraged by others, both in my ability and my faith.  One day one of my managers asked to see me. I knocked on his door, waited to be allowed in, and then sat down with my shorthand pad and pencil in my hand.  He explained that there was no dictation; he just wanted to tell me he recognised in me such great potential.  This really took me by surprise, what had he seen in me to say such touching words?

It’s a lovely moment when something like this happens, and I’ve never forgotten that day when I was encouraged  in this way.   Being told I had potential made me begin to believe in myself so much more, it made me wonder what my life would hold?   Did I really have the potential to be someone I never dreamt I could be, to achieve something I had thought was out of my reach, to expand my horizons and outside the shadow of the fog – to really fly? I went home that night feeling like I had been given a blank cheque – I had potential!   That day I truly encountered God who reached me through his servant and released me to a new level of self belief.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father that you are all about building us up and encouraging us, and making us realise our full potential which in you is totally limitless.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that I have been entrusted with this amazing responsibility to encourage others so that they too are free to step out of their comfort zones and scan new horizons.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Day Seventeen – Close every Door to me

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QA0MMUSJqM

 

I have a passion for doors! Ok so I know I’m odd, but I have many hundreds of pictures of doors that I have taken over the years.  It has to be the most common feature in my pictures since I received my digital camera as a birthday gift four years ago.

All kinds of door – house doors, castle doors, church doors.  Heavy Wooden doors, doors with glass in and lights shining inside,  doors that are slightly open and seem to invite you in; doors that look like they have not been opened for years and years and would need a mighty big push to move.  Red doors, yellow doors, green doors,  doors hanging off their hinges, doors where you can see what’s going on inside.   I just love doors.

I can’t think of how many doors I have entered in my life, far too many.  To be honest even this day I’ve walked through lots of doors – in my home, shop doors, restaurant doors, doors on a friend house.   I can’t say I always get excited when I go through a door – because that would be madness and make me look neurotic; but there is something wonderful about coming home and closing my front door behind me and feeling safe and at peace which is really priceless.

Holman Hunt painted that amazing picture of Christ at the door with a light in his hand (Christ the light of the World).  I have been privileged to see two original paintings of this; one at Keble College Chapel Oxford, and the other in St Pauls.   There is something about the door in the picture that draws me, its colour, and the way it seems to have not been opened for years.  The light Christ holds reflecting on it making it look alive and accessible despite the weeds that have grown around it in the years it has been closed  off.

The first sermon I ever preached at the tender age of 17 at the Waterfoot Salvation Army in the Rossendale Valley was on the text Hebrews 3:15  “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts”.  In this sermon I spoke about Hunts painting and how many people close the door of their heart to Jesus, yet it is so easy to open it and let him in.  It was a very simple sermon, linking in with Rev 3:20 “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.”

There have been times over the years when I have learned how easy it is to close God out, to slam all the doors and try and cope on my own.   I especially do this if I have been hurt and rejected.  (My astronomy sign would say this Crab retreats into her shell – but we really don’t believe that rubbish!!)   Sometimes it’s much easier to hide inside than it is to open up and come out again.  Facing the light can be a costly business.

I have a good friend who is actually an extremely sucessful businessman today, yet he tells me that when he was younger he was a Boys Brigade Officer.  He was a typical young man; early twenties and doing well in his career;  married and setting up his first home.   One weekend he went to a Boys Brigade Officers Training Weekend and in the first session the leader said – only men who are 100% committed to Jesus should be BB Officers; if you are not there’s the door – leave now.  My friend left immediately and never ever went back church or Brigade..  He slammed the door behind him and has never attempted to open it, convinced that the 100% commitment was utter madness, he had so many other things he wanted achiever in life.

I have met many people like this in my life, and I don’t judge them for decisions they make, yet I thank God that I have come to learn  that often the doors that looks as if they could never be open again have a way of coming to life when we realise the exciting possibilities, freedom and great opportunties that lie just on the other side.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father,  that you come to me in anew each day, and as the door to a new day opens you bring your light and your love.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that  inviting you in and eating with you is always life changing.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Day Sixteen – Wind beneath my wings

I was about 12 when I went to Northern France on a school trip.  I had never been abroad before so this was really exciting.   I had hoped we would fly,  but of course it was just a coach down to Southampton and Ferry to Cherbourg.   When the time came to go it I was so eager to get there it wouldn’t have matter if we had swam the channel, it was just fantastic to be outside the UK for the very first time.

We travelled through the night to board an early morning ferry , and it seemed as if we were on the coach for hours.  To my surprise most of my class mates were fast asleep by Birmingham.  I on the other hand was as high as I kite and buzzing to see France.  We stopped at a service station and a quiet call went up for anyone who wanted to use the bathroom.  I got off and wandered around a bookshop, and decided to buy a book to read.  It wasn’t a carefully chosen purchase, rather a quick grab before we had to embark on our journey southwards.  When I was seated I started to read.

It was a story about a group of friends, who despite their differences sometimes they got on well, and other times they let each other down.  The main character tried hard to be liked and accepted, but sadly  his friends would often let him down and even turn on him.  The main character desired that his friends should be winners, and he would always encourage them in every way he knew how, but they always ended up losing together.  Nevertheless, they would pick themselves up and start again.

This book made me laugh out loud at times, and it made me cry.  I fell in love with the characters and the relationships that were playing out.  One character was very outspoken and made many enemies as she was not very tactful; another character was rather dishevelled but he was very wise, and the group accepted him just as he was. This book was about working together, coping with failure, building self belief and believing in others. It was about acceptance and perseverance, determination and love.

For the next few years that book shaped who I was.  The main character became my hero.  While my friends had the Osmonds and Bay City Rollers on their bedroom wall, the main character on that little paperback book was plastered all over mine.  In him it felt like I had found a soul mate and soon I purchased more books about these people and read them all.

What was this book?  Well I believe it was called “Good Ol Charlie Brown”; and it was the first of many books by Charles Shultz that I was to purchase.  I did go on to collect everyone, and every book that was written concerning the Peanuts characters for many years following.  The gospel of Peanuts, and the Parables of peanuts were really helpful to me in my developing theological understanding, for the writer started where I was at and used what I loved to illustrate major lessons I needed to learn about Gods love for me.

In one of the first Peanut strips Shultz shows Charlie Brown walking by two other characters, Shermy and Patty.  They respond when they see him coming: “Well here comes ol Charlie Brown”; as he gets close they each call out “Good Ol Charlie Brown, yes sir”, and as he disappears out of sight they say; “How I hate him”.   At times I feel quite unsure how people see me, and what lasting impression I make, but the encounter with God is that He really loves me regardless.  Thanks Charles Shultz that you taught me that lesson so very often.

My Prayer:

Thank You Father, you love and accept me just as I am, and despite what other people may say behind my back you affirm me right now as your precious and beloved child.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that lessons about your grace can be found in the most surprising places, May I always be open to discover you.

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!

Day Fifteen– More than words

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrIiLvg58SY

The happiest days of your life they say are our school days, well maybe they are, yet memories soon fade and life moves on.  The thing is, I really did love school!  It was the greatest social occasion in my life, except they kept dragging us into lessons – and they were such a drag!  But school, the place,  form time, break time, lunchtime – were what I really loved the  best.  I had some amazing friends, Belinda, Leslie, Karen and I were inseparable in secondary school, a force to be reckoned with, well we thought we were.   We would hang around together in the evenings, not really doing anything other than walking and talking.  I remember once we wrote our names on the back of a street sign in felt pen, and on another occasion the police told us to get down from sitting on a high wall, but that really was as daring as it got, we were that cool!

School was much more about friendship than English, Geography, Biology and Art, especially after my art teacher failed me when she worked out that my brother had sketched the homework of that stupid pair of trainers that I just couldn’t do;  so she gave me an F . That was the bad thing about school, I struggled like mad to achieve academically.  I worked hard and did my best, but my best was never that good, just good enough to keep me out of the  bottom set, often known as the dunces set.  I was more than happy to keep out of there, and yet being somewhere in the middle often means you don’t get noticed, and I often felt overlooked.

Words were a problem.  I found spelling really difficult.  The spelling rules didn’t seem to make sense to me, and just when I learned “ I before E except after C” – then I would come across “ceiling” or “receipt” and I would simply despair.  Stupid English language, yet another reason why I thought being French would have been a  better idea all round.

Late in secondary school life I was subjected to several tests that revealed I actually had dyslexia.  At last a reason why my P’s and 9’s, and d’s and b’s were always so mixed up, and why I always hesitated to write a 5 and an S.  (To name just three of my common errors, there were many like this).   I decided I hated words, so despite my love of poetry and children’s books I hesitated to move on to adult literture and even now fear people seeing my spelling. (Oh dear – why on earth am I writing a book?)

Easy – because I overcame my fear.  Whilst at theological college as an adult I was reassessed by a educational psychologist who looked at my work and said that he found only traces of dyslexia and it was not something that was particularly noticeable to make my work stand out in any negative way.   This was sweet music to my ears, because I had always struggled with words but it seems that in all my determination I had greatly improved.

This for me was a real encounter with God, to know that something I thought would mark me out for the rest of my life was now assessed as not a big issue at all.  This was truly liberating.  Despite the fact that my fellows students would often tease with signs that said “dyslexia rules KO”,  and “Dog is good” – I knew that with God’s help I was being set free, being healed.  Soon I realised it was all much more than words, it was about confidence and and self belief,  about growing and breaking through the barriers I had errected for myself that said I cant do that; because with Jesus I really can!

My Prayer:

Thank You Father, that you have made me unique. Thank you for humble beginnings and great advancements for your Kingdom sake.

Jesus – during this Lenten season – remind me again that the Word became flesh, and dwelt on all our words too!

Lord hear us – Lord graciously hear us!