June Update

As I type this, it is over a month since I last logged a journal entry so without further ado, here are the highlights from the last week in June.
Thursday 26th: Vic departed on his trusty steed (the BMW F650 CS) to meet up with work colleagues for the trek down to Blois in France for a few days. Meanwhile arrangements were in hand for me to have some help with getting my car MoT tested and with the allotment (ripping up the old paths and planting out some seedlings I’ve been bringing on in the potting shed). Then it was dinner, shower and change to go to dance class. A full day, and very satisfying.
Friday 27th: Up early and over the allotment again to finish relaying the new paths, do some weeding and plant out some more seedlings. All looking good! Dinner included the fruits of my labours (sugar snap peas and strawberries for dessert), then on to watch the Chronicles of Narnia film, Prince Caspian. I think the young lady in the box office must have been having a private joke: the tickets gave allocated seat numbers; there weren't many people in the theatre, and almost all of us were sat side by side in one row! It was, shall we say, a cosy arrangement.
Saturday 28th: A friend took me over to pick up the car with it’s new MOT certificate and we gave it a long run down to Dover – couldn’t see France today owing to the heat haze. Walked around Dover castle, had lunch in the Naafi then walked along the seafront – there was a large group of people swimming round the harbour.
Sunday 29th: I went to church in the morning and tried to write down the words members of the congregation were bringing in the Spirit – there were many of them, including a beautiful love song to the Lord. Something in the sermon really caught my attention and set me thinking, seeming (in my mind) to be addressed to me.

Vic returned safely some time after midnight. This may seem unremarkable to the reader. However, my father was one of ten siblings, and his youngest brother (Ian) was killed in a motorcycle accident in France, as was one of his nephews (also named Ian), as was one of my ex-boyfriends (named Nigel). At some point in life my mind had processed the conclusion that motorcycling in France is not a safe activity but obviously I hadn’t wanted to influence Vic’s decision prior to the event by burdening him with my fears, so had kept all this to myself. Now though, the thoughts or feelings I had been suppressing welled up within me, making it difficult to sleep peacefully. In between snatches of sleep, bizarre thoughts troubled me.

Monday 30th
I was due to host a meeting about the proposed Wholeness through Spirituality group, but sensing that I was in the throes of another relapse in mental health, I passed on the work I had done towards creating an agenda and managed to get word out to change the venue and proceed without me. I coped with Monday night Dance class only with a little help from my friend.

Sit down, put your feet up and relax …

Today is National Siesta Awareness Day. My father was well ahead of the times. From as far back as I can remember, he had a habit of retiring from the lunch table to his armchair, closing his eyes and having what he referred to as ‘forty winks’ before walking back into work. I looked up the phrase ‘forty winks’ on Wikipedia and found the article chatty and interesting. Then I googled the phrase ‘put your feet up and relax’. In recent times I have learned* that the optimum position for passing a bowel movement is squatting – that our custom of sitting regally over a porcelain throne is less than ideal. Apparently if you suffer from constipation, sitting on the loo with your feet up on a stool in front of you (so that your knees are higher than your backside) should assist matters. I found myself wondering if that was where the phrase (put your feet up and relax) first came from, and was surprised to find an article with that title discussing the euphemistic use of the word ‘feet’ in the bible. Which if it suggests anything, perhaps suggests I’ve got just a little too much spare time?

*I believe it was courtesy of Gillian McKeith, she of ‘what does your poo say about you’ catchphrase

A rose by any other name would as thorny be?

This miniature rose was given to me as a 'hostess gift' by my sister-in-law, Jacky, a couple of years ago and when it ceased to thrive indoors, I planted it out in the front garden

The ‘Growing in Awareness and Practice’ training course finished last Thursday. One of the things I had been intending to practice in real life situations was listening without an agenda: reflective listening that isn’t aimed at changing the speaker. It’s a skill that I’ve practiced in various training situations and in theory should be part of my ‘skill set’ – yet I’m aware that it certainly doesn’t seem to come naturally. Despite revising, re-reading a couple of articles on the subject and deciding henceforth I would be a good listener … well, let me tell you the story and you’ll maybe understand my difficulty in completing that sentence.

Had a conversation with a friend about Lee McQueen, the winner of the TV series, ‘The Apprentice’. My friend observed that Lee was the candidate who had lied on his CV, and wondered whether it sent out the right message, giving him the job – the end doesn’t justify the means. I responded tartly that, given Lee’s performance throughout the 12 weeks of the selection process, I didn’t think it was a fair way of defining him and had more to do with the media trying to polarise opinions. “You’ve joked about being ‘creative’ with expense claims” I pointed out, “how would you feel about being defined by that one negative act?” Point made, acknowledged my friend.

Then tonight at the dinner table, Vic commented on an article in the Telegraph about how ‘despite a £50 million “deep clean” of every hospital in England designed to curb superbugs’, hospitals are failing to meet basic hygiene standards. “It doesn’t help that they’re so under-resourced they have to employ cleaners who can’t speak a word of English and aren’t the most intelligent people around” he said. “That’s not fair!” I protested, “Just because people can’t speak English doesn’t necessarily mean they’re stupid”. It wasn't what he'd meant at all, and it killed the conversation. Reflecting back on these conversations later, I noticed the pattern. At first I saw it as a positive (me leaping to the defense of those not present to defend themselves), then my earlier resolve to listen without an agenda came to mind and reluctantly I acknowledged the negative (that leaping to seize the ‘moral high ground’ is not a loving way to respond to someone who has made him/herself vulnerable by offering an honest thought). I thought about other occasions where I’ve responded to what amounts to an invitation to intimacy, an ‘us against the world’ position – someone saying something unflattering about a third party not present – by turning on the speaker and denouncing them. Small wonder so few people have stuck around to maintain a long-standing close relationship with me, and full credit to those courageous souls who have!

Then I turned to ‘Power to Soar’ and read the entry for today:
(Titus 3:1-5)
Raging Restorer,
I respect you. Therefore I grant you enormous freedom of thought and expression – even when you’re dead wrong!
Will you deny others the same freedom?
Yours smiling,
Father

It feels like I’m on the edge of a new order of understanding. Let’s hope so, eh?!

Fragrant flowers

Last night at Cell group the breeze from the open window every now and then would carry the fragrance of the syringa and peonies to me, which was lovely. Not so lovely was the realisation that the peonies brought a fair few unwelcome visitors with them into the room - a number of ants. Perhaps they like the fragrance, too.

Synchronicity

One of today’s ‘Bible in a Year’ readings is Mark 16:1-8, about Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Salome going to the tomb where Jesus’ body had been laid and meeting a ‘young man dressed in a white robe’ who told them not to be alarmed, Jesus had risen. Having read this, I turned to ‘A Course in Miracles’ and discovered today’s Lesson (Lesson 163) is ‘There is no death. The Son of God is free.’ I guess a non-believer would regard this kind of coincidence as no more than the operation of the laws of probability and that it is the believer’s selective attention which seeks to make of it evidence for faith in God. Whatever, it brings joy like a shaft of sunlight penetrating a gloomy place to a believer. Even as I type this, on the radio Stuart McAllister is talking about hope, and the Christian’s hope for the time when there is no more death nor sadness, nor sickness nor pain – where all things are renewed to be as they are meant to be. The presenter’s exposition of salvation doctrine goes on to talk about the present tense: I am being saved – God is at work in my life through the power of His Holy Spirit, transforming me inwardly from the ‘orrible person I once was to one who fully accepts the atonement for myself and accepts the righteousness of Jesus so that my life reflects God’s glory. “Hope is the oxygen of the soul”, he declares. As I reflect on that phrase, a recent TV advert comes to mind for an oxygen-based cleaning product, showing bubbles releasing stubborn stains to give a deep-down clean. Talking of which, Cell group is here tonight so I need to get busy soon and do a bit of cleaning. I’ve already baked some biscuits, and I might just pick a few flowers from the garden to make the place look nice.

PS Having cleaned the bathroom this morning, I went over the allotment this afternoon and cut the grass with the strimmer, then came home and stripped off the clothes I'd been wearing ... showering the bathroom floor in fragments of cut grass! You've got to laugh, haven't you!?!



PPS As usual, I made chicken stock on Sunday (from the chicken carcase). Today I used it to make some leek and potato soup. It was so thick, it literally supported the spoon (and very tasty, might I add).

Stuck!

More beautiful summer weather today. Caught up with laundry, ironing and other chores at home then cycled into town after lunch, did a bit of shopping and loaded it into the carrier on the back of the bike and cycled on to the allotment. I had some old picnic chairs (when I say ‘old’, these dated back to the days before David was born) over the allotment. The seat gave way on one of them recently, but that day I was quick enough to stand up as it tore and escaped injury. Today I was neither so quick nor so lucky! If anyone had been around to see me, they would probably have found the sight highly amusing – I was stuck there for a few minutes folded in the middle, bum on the floor and feet off the ground, trying to work out how to get myself out of the situation!

Fruitful

Lovely summer’s day again. Walked into town and met up with a group of friends for coffee. After lunch I cycled over the allotment and picked a handful of strawberries, some sugar-snap peas and some rhubarb. Made Vic a rhubarb crumble. Went to Monday night dance class, which was very hot and sweaty.

Sunday Roast

Cycled to church this morning – another glorious summer’s day. The service was great. I was really into the worship, and there were a few prophetic utterances about forgiveness, grace, and again about surrendering to God, then Nigel preached from Mark chapter 10 on Marriage and Divorce. He spoke about how a marriage can get off on the wrong course from the beginning if you don’t get to know each other really well before you decide to get married. He spoke about how it doesn’t work if there is stuff in our past that we are so ashamed of that we keep it secret from the other person, sealing it away for ever – how that creates a barrier that can cause problems down the line. I thought about my own past and all the stuff I’d kept secret – was it any surprise that I’ve had periods of real struggle down the years.

Back home I cooked a very large roast chicken dinner as we had Vicky and her friends plus Dave coming round for lunch. Once again it was lovely to watch them all tucking in to huge platefuls, and they were all very complimentary – also enjoying the lemon cheesecake and hot chocolate puds. Vicky packed herself another dinner from some of the leftovers and took it home for tomorrow, along with the courgette plants I’ve potted up for her. Altogether an enjoyable weekend.

Derby Day

Today's 'Word for Today' is 'Give it to God', all about 'Letting go and letting God ...' It includes this quote from Loretta P Burns:
As children bring their broken toys with tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God because He is my friend.
But then instead of leaving Him in peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help with ways that were my own.
At last I snatched them back and cried, "How can you be so slow?"
"My child," He said, "What could I do ... you never did let go."'

The girls were singing Dave's praises as a host. He'd cooked them a full English breakfast, and washed-up afterwards - yes, he'd make someone a good wife some day, Vic joked. After we dropped the girls off at Guildford railway station, we drove on to Badshot Lea Garden Centre. I was looking for three things: strawberry collars (to stop the berries getting spoiled whilst they're ripening on the plants), parsnip seeds (as the ones I kept from last year and sowed earlier this spring don’t appear to have germinated) and a vivid orange alstroemeria plant. My mother grew alstroemeria, we had them in our previous garden, and now I wanted a patch of them over the allotment to brighten the place up. Our shopping trip was only partially successful – we got the parsnip seeds, but not the other stuff – and it looks like it’s really too late to sow the parsnip seeds. They should have been in much earlier in the spring.

After a very stodgy lunch I spent a couple of hours over the allotment sowing the seeds, cutting the grass and planting out some purple-sprouting broccoli seedlings I’ve been bringing on in the potting shed. Ideal weather: sunny and warm with a pleasant cooling breeze. Despite all that rain earlier in the week, the topsoil is already quite dry and dusty.

Home Cooking

Vicky and two of her female friends are staying at Dave’s place tonight then Vic will give them a lift to Guildford to catch the train to Epsom for the Derby tomorrow. The four of them (Vicky, her friends and Dave) joined us for dinner tonight. I’d cooked large dishes of chicken Korma and Bombay potatoes, and we’d bought chicken Tikka Masala, onion Bhajias and Pilau Rice. The girls tucked in with gusto, needing no invitation to help themselves to seconds, then sharing out the remaining morsels – which I took to be a real compliment on the food! The conversation was lively and entertaining and it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. So nice to have young people around again, with all their energy and fun.

Reflecting on a challenging week

Tuesday
It was pouring with rain Tuesday morning, yet even so I enjoyed the walk to a meeting in connection with the ‘Wholeness Through Spirituality’ project. This project is about setting up a support group:

to provide a safe place for people to explore and express aspects of their lives and beliefs which have value and meaning, and which give them some sense of purpose and hope.

Previously I had volunteered to draft 5 session plans, and took along the work I had done in this respect. I’ve been reading a book, ‘Encountering the Sacred in Psychotherapy’ which talks about the use of metaphors in speaking of our lives, and I had taken Metaphors as the overall theme for the 5 sessions, breaking it down into:-

Session 1: ‘Metaphors for life’ (eg. ‘Life is a journey’, ‘life is a learning experience’, ‘life is a battle’, etc)
Session 2: ‘personal metaphors’ (eg. if you consider life is a game of chess, are you a pawn or a grand Master?; do you ‘clam up’? Do you think you’re an egg – cracking up? etc.)
Session 3: ‘metaphors for the world’ (eg. the world’s your oyster)
Session 4: ‘metaphors for God’
Session 5: ‘metaphors for death’.

At the meeting I talked through the detailed plan for Session 1, then invited feedback. In retrospect, it would have been wise to offer the feedback up for general discussion. Instead, I answered each comment myself – which shut down the group process and ultimately undermined the group dynamic. Reflecting back on the meeting later, I realised I’d been quite defensive. One person who has vast experience in devising and presenting courses felt that the icebreaker game was too risky – (I’d assigned 7 minutes to learning names, and with a view to getting people comfortable with hearing their own voice speak out loud in the group plus to familiarise ourselves with each others’ names, I’d decided we would toss a juggling ball to each other, calling out our own name as we tossed the ball initially, then switching after several minutes to calling out the name of the person you toss it to) she felt people might feel unduly anxious about fumbling and dropping the ball. She also felt that the word ‘metaphor’ might put people off, and wanted to substitute the word ‘images’. (When I’d been preparing the session plan and come up with the basic idea, I’d googled ‘Metaphors for life’ and found the following site very helpful in informing the work I was doing:
http://mentalhealth.about.com/cs/selfhelp/a/metaphors.htm)
She had concerns about where the conversations might go. I deflected the things I was hearing by suggesting that they were coming from her fear of not being in control – which I had intended as a helpful reflection! Meanwhile the other group members sat quiet, looking on. The person unofficially chairing the meeting gathered the reins to gently move things on, but the lady who had been challenging the session plan looked at me and asked “Do you mind if we tweak it?” I didn’t answer immediately – surprised to discover I DID mind. Perhaps my answer could have been "'We' don't feel it needs tweaking", said with a smile (yet normally when I put an idea forward, I’m very happy for it to be ‘tweaked’ until everyone is content). I remembered that this lady had wanted to ‘tweak’ the ‘Growing in Awareness and Practice’ training course that had been presented to us by an excellent trainer commissioned by the local Mental Health NHS Trust. I guess it is sometimes hard for us to trust another’s expertise in a field we consider our own. After a brief pause I concluded, “I’ll leave that question asked and unanswered for now”. When I tuned in to my body, I realised my heart-rate had increased slightly from the conflict.

The walk back home did me good – a ‘cooling off’ period and an opportunity for prayer. One of the beauties of prayer is that it allows me to hear what I’m thinking without risking damaging a relationship. As sometimes happens, I was surprised when I opened my mouth and started praying, to hear some of the stuff going on inside that I hadn’t been consciously aware of. For example, I hadn’t realised I had been seeing the project as a way of establishing a place for myself at the centre of something; that I had been looking on it as a way of giving myself significance. I was surprised to recognise I’d felt angry about the ‘Do you mind if we tweak it?’ question – specifically about the pronoun, what my mother would have called ‘the royal we’. I felt it came across as patronising (although knowing it wouldn't have been intended that way). I realised I had been regarding the project as ‘my baby’ from the beginning, and I had wanted to be trusted to run with it. Now I found myself wondering whether to walk away from it altogether. In prayer I surrendered it to God, mentally trying to leave it with Him.

Back home I looked again at the devotional I’d read the evening before, from Power to Soar:

(Hebrews 11:6)
Baffled Deliverer,
Do you want bewilderment bombarding your mind for a lifetime? Then solicit everyone’s opinion – about everything! Teeter on a tightrope for people who couldn’t care less and for those who are impossible to please! When I speak, refuse to respond until 10,000 confirmations arrive, hand-delivered by angels!
Yours with Tender Concern,
Father

Wednesday
I had an appointment for 9.40 am with the Breast Surgeon at the hospital. Fortunately the weather was fine as it takes about 40 minutes to walk there. The waiting room was packed, and appointments were running behind schedule, but I picked up a copy of The People's Friend and was content sitting reading whilst I waited. It was nearly 10.30 when the nurse called me in to see one of the junior doctors. He wasn't altogether sure why I was there. I explained about the second operation having been postponed due to a relapse in my mental health, and that possibly the Surgeon had wanted to check my mental state for himself before scheduling the further surgery. Accordingly he left me sitting alone in the room for a few minutes and went to invite his senior colleague in to see me. I looked around and smiled to myself at the mischief I could get up to in the room, were I that way inclined. When he came back, he started filling in a form, asking for my contact details. I was reciting my mobile phone number when the Consultant breezed in with a cheerful greeting and perched on the windowsill. I interrupted myself to respond, then explained that I was just giving the doctor my phone number. The Consultant raised an eyebrow and looking at his junior with a grin, asked him, "Why? Are you going round for dinner or something?". It only took a few minutes for us to sort out that the operation would be scheduled as soon as possible, and the Consultant left. The doctor finished filling in his forms and answered my questions, then as I was going, I couldn't resist saying with a big grin, "My cooking is ok, by the way". "Sorry?" he asked, with a startled look. I jerked my head in the direction of the Consultant's office and explained, "He was joking with you about coming round for dinner - I was just saying my cooking is ok". He blushed, and I went off chuckling to myself. Later on I was describing the morning to a friend, who commented in surprise, "It sounds like you enjoyed yourself!" and I realised with surprise that yes, I had enjoyed the light-heartedness of the encounters.

In different vein at Cell group Wednesday night, without me having breathed a word to anyone about what had been going on the day before, the concept of surrendering all to God cropped up several times. It seemed to chime with me wondering whether to walk away from the Wholeness through Spirituality project.

Thursday
Thursday was a glorious day where the space and time and peace I had were very much in tune with the ‘A Course in Miracles’ daily exercise:
“Into His Presence would I enter now”, which began with the words
‘This is a day of silence and trust. It is a special time of promise in your calendar of days. It is a time Heaven has set apart to shine upon …’
Sure enough it was a day of glorious weather and the joy bubbled up in my heart. I was on a high all day – until I found myself reeling in shocked surprise when some very angry words were fired at me unexpectedly by one of my closest friends. I felt bewildered at the time, wondering what I’d done wrong, but listened and discovered that there had been an accumulation of small irritations over a long period of time. Tonight as I reflected on what had been said, I realised that my friend had previously defined various boundaries for the relationship that I had not taken seriously but had trespassed over the line with joyful abandon. Whoops! That’ll teach me! The metaphorical rap on the knuckles left me smarting but smarter, hopefully.

Aerogarden: Salad greens

Back on 7th May I mentioned replanting the aerogarden with salad greens. I’ve been lunching on these for a week or so, and as you can see there are more salads to be had. I did have to replace the other grow bulb – that means both grow bulbs burnt out within 6 months of starting. As they are around £7 a bulb, you might agree it becomes a very expensive way of growing salad greens – especially when the allotment is beginning to produce fresh lettuce as well, now. Perhaps I should have gone for another herb set after all.