arms wide open

You were not perplexed

when I dragged my muddy feet along your carpet,

pulled my broken suitcase through your door.

You were not put off

by the dirt under my fingernails,

or the stench of my unwashed heart.

You did not frown

when I jumped all over your furniture

and pulled all the crockery out of your cupboards;

you saw me coming –

muddy, broken, rejected –

and leapt up, beaming,

running to meet me

arms wide open

and cried “Come in!

I have been waiting for you!”

I’d sent no RSVP in response to your invitation,

but you waited anyway –

staring over the distance

between us, watching

for that first small step.

And then you ran, feet slapping

hands clapping, clothes flapping

to meet me –

arms wide open.

You gave me new clothes to wear,

mended my suitcase,

helped me clean under my fingernails. 

You applied the ultimate stain remover

to my heart – grace

pure and undiluted,

applied with just the right amount

of loving kindness,

washing away the embedded dust

and darkness, transforming

the stale dullness and beginning

a new, re-created brightness

in me, until I could no longer

imagine

what I had been without you.

(C) Lucy Mills 2011

Used during welcome service.

Image: source unknown

today

I sit, grazing the horror and the holiness with the tips of my fingers
my dimmed vision conjouring a dusty road leading to Golgotha
reminding myself of the vivid reality of a suffering God


Why commemorate Good Friday?  In order not to forget.

the child

garlands of light lining the streets
every window an invitation
to find a new present for giving
a new incentive for spending

a flurry of parcels and wrapping
of ribbons, rosettes, of artificial
pine, of the search to find
the perfect gift for those
who are impossible to buy for…

stepping back now, out of the shopping mall
into a different land and time
where love finds its touchstone
and he who sprinkled stars in the sky
sleeps under that sky tonight

a child, one child, the child
who holds the promise of all our futures
tightly in those tiny hands
the mystery of eternal, divine
in the depths of fragile humanity

angels punctuate the sky like tear drops
falling, tears of joy, that baby boy
the one they have come to proclaim
to those in the humdrum, the ordinary,
the miracle of the light of the world
born in the darkness of night

born for them, born for us
the King of kings and Light of lights
hope for all the world.

alive

Sometimes...I am merely searching for words. Anything to capture the colour of living, the breathtaking nature of existence. Sometimes I rise above the here and now, the physical weariness, the aching back from a long day...and I breathe in living.

It is in my ears and eyes, even on my tongue, taste buds tingling at being alive. The momentous nature of it...the incredible ability to touch and to feel...and to think about the touch and the feeling. To ponder aloud and silently the brush that painted today, and still waits to colour tomorrow.

To love.

To breathe.

To be the only person who is me myself.

To be alive.

losing my marbles...

...although not in that sense. That happened a long time ago!

My first marble was a white Cat's Eye and I thought it was beautiful. I found it one day before I had any of my own. I was delighted with it. One day a boy challenged me to a game of marbles. I had my one, beloved marble. He had his handful. And I lost it.

I didn't really consider the game permanent. I'd assumed I would get my marble back at the end. But I didn't. Despite my pleas, that was the game, he told me. He got to keep my marble. And I was left with nothing.

For some reason I remembered this recently, and it started a train of thought. How many times do we 'play' with the precious things in our lives, thinking we won't lose them, or do any harm? A spouse's trust. A friend's confidence. A child's dream.

These things - so beautiful - we can so easily treat with carelessness. I wrote a song once called 'breakable'. One of the main lines was - 'don't run too fast with a heart in your hands' - because it is so breakable.

What are the important things in our lives? Do we realise how important they truly are? How would we feel if we lost them?

radiant

Look to him, and be radiant;

so your faces will never be ashamed.

Psalm 34:5

memory lane: wearing different shoes

This may seem like a strange memory to share, but it is a moment that had a surprising impact on me - because it was not just something I saw, but something I experienced.

A couple of years ago, maybe 3, I had a fall in our back garden. Our back garden has got a lot of concrete in it, not just the patio stones but concrete path, steps, and flower bed walls. The safest place to fall in our back garden is in a flower bed. I did not do this.

At the time, the low capstones that line the concrete path were loose, particularly the one nearest the house. We had just come back from staying with parents, I think it must have been, because we were putting in Charlie back in his hutch from his carrier, and I was going up to the garage to put away the stuff that goes with him. At least, that was what I intended to do.

I stumbled, and the toe of my foot caught against the first capstone. This was the one which had no hold whatsoever, which resulted in not just me tripping over, but being catapulted up the path. I was flung forward, and reaching out my hand to stop myself, my right arm slammed into a capstone on the other side. This capstone was not loose. It is a testament to the momentum of the fall that I knocked it out of place.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're in the midst of something - and despite the speed of which it happens, you think 'oh, no', because you know the outcome will not be good, that it will interrupt life, cause other people hassle and you pain? Well, I remember that feeling as I went down. (This is not, by the way, the moment of impact that I mentioned at the beginning - it is simply the preamble, and since I'm telling the story I may as well tell all of it.)

I felt my jeans - and my knees - rip against the coarse stone, skidding as I fell. I felt the jolt of pain in my arm. And I felt the overwhelming nausea of the shock of the fall. Winded, I could not initially move. What I felt mainly, in that moment, was fury at myself for not being more careful. It took a supreme effort of willpower to turn myself so I was facing the other way, battling against the urge to throw up. From there, I whimpered for help. I must have sounded like a miserable cat.

When Andy had found me and started clearing up the bits outside, I limped into the kitchen to deal with what seemed the most immediate problem - mopping up the blood on my knees. The fact that I was having to support my right arm against my chest was something I ignored at the time. I was in shock, shaky and frustratingly incoherent.

Somehow I must have hobbled upstairs, because I have a clear memory of sitting on the bathroom floor, dabbing ineffectually at my knees with my arm still clutched against me. When Andy discovered where I'd got to, the thing he homed in was the arm. It turned out I couldn't clench my fist or put any pressure on it without agony - so off we went to A & E (Accident & Emergency - E.R. for my overseas friends!!)

I was x-rayed but they could find no break, though they felt it was warranted due to the degree of pain I was experiencing (I was almost disbelieving - how could it hurt so much and have no break?!!). They surmised I had badly bruised the bone itself and sent me home with painkillers and a sling. That night, and for several afterwards, I could only lie on my back with my arm draped helplessly across my stomach - any effort to straighten it made me howl in pain.

And the knees. Ugh. What happened a few nights' running was this. I would lie, on my back, while they throbbed, and would eventually, amazingly, drop off to sleep. When I woke up, and pushed myself up with my good arm (not easy), the knees would bend and - sorry for those who are squeamish - literally rip open again. It was horrible.

(In the end, we went out to a pharmacy to ask advice - the outcome of which was that I had to keep the wounds moist at all times, otherwise scabs would form and tear open, as I had been experiencing.)

I don't remember how I got to the place I did - I think Andy had stayed in the supermarket (where we went to the pharmacy) to pick something up and I decided to go back to the car - and I ended up standing at the side of the 'road' in the car park, waiting to cross. My knees were stiff and I could only hobble, not walk. My right arm was strapped against me. And I was suddenly terrified.

Because it's not just about the physical injury, it's about what it means. I knew, without even thinking about it directly, that I could not move fast if I was required to, and that I did not have my arm to support me. I felt out of balance and unsure, and I had to cross the road.

And then it happened. I looked to my right, and saw a frail, elderly lady attempting the same feat as I was trying to make. She was bent over a stick, and very wobbly on her feet. And a wave of empathy rolled across me.

This is what it's like for you, all the time. It's not just that you can't walk fast, or that everything aches with pain. It's the vulnerability that comes over you when you can't trust your body to react in the way it used to react.

Right now - right then, I felt like I was wearing different shoes. Her shoes.

And so often the picture of that lady will flicker across my mind. Whenever I see someone struggling to walk or clinging onto a support, I remember. I remember wearing different shoes. And that same wave of empathy flows through me, along with the knowledge that my pair of shoes were only temporary while I healed up, but hers were there for the rest of her life.

And so I am always reminded, when behind someone walking slowly, or someone struggling to get on the bus, or wherever I see those 'shoes'. And I have a glimmer of understanding - and the patience that comes with it.

Because for a short time, I wore different shoes.

How does the saying go?

Don't judge a man - or woman - until you have walked a mile in his shoes....



Today: 4/10, medium high

a prayer

I want to follow wholeheartedly;
I want to liberate the words of love
which are so often neglected,
shackled by fear, regret,
pain, or often
simple forgetfulness.

I want to articulate
the truth of you, to discover
and to share my discovering;
instead of merely staring
at a blank page, or
empty lines.

Crying out to be a voice,
but having so very little strength,
completely lacking, and thus
completely dependent
on what you choose to give,
and I accept.

So weary of weariness,
wanting the chance to transform,
to change, to be other
than what I am now,
to unclog that which is stuck,
and let it flow freely.

O God - my prayer.
Turn my greys into vivid reds,
blues, greens, vibrant yellows;
turn my life from the chains
and enable my mind and body
to serve you absolutely.

Today: 3-4/10, medium high

on this day

on this day
may hope rise out of forgotten places
as spring emerges from the depths of winter
may joy scatter its petals on your hearts
and faith hold up your arms

on this day
may love caress the aching scars
and ease the hidden pains you carry
allowing you to nestle in the care
of your one protector

on this day
may radiance transform your faces
and sink deep, soul deep, beneath the skin
encouraging you to believe that life
will be beautiful yet

what if...?

There are so many times I think

- what if?

what if I did this...or that

what if I tried these ideas...or those

what if I wrote everything...or something

what if I allowed myself to dream?

but then I pause to think

and I flounder, or I get caught up

in fiddle faddle

or twiddle twaddle

and forget to do this...or that

forget to try these ideas...or those

neglect to write something... or everything

and carelessly shrug off my dreaming

I waste time, energy, on thoughtless moments

I lose heart so easily,

and instead of taking something up,

I put it down

and then can't remember where it is,

or even what it was in the first place.

I turn inward, probing as if at an aching tooth,

pondering at my abilities...or inabilities

doubting that from this shell

anything lasting could come

I tell myself

I cannot do this...or that

I dare not try these ideas...or those

I cannot write something...or anything

I will not believe in my dreams

and I drop the memory

of a moment of passion...or compassion

and retreat, having

done none of it.

but...what if

I did?

and...what if

in some small way

it changed the world?

the Shepherd's voice

Wrote this some time ago and it has been on the computer doing nothing. Thought might share it here, in case it was helpful for someone.

Sometimes God feels absent. He seems silent.

Long absences and a lack of communication feed insecurity and pave the way for other voices. You can be deceived into thinking someone doesn't love you. You take their silence to mean rejection; when you cannot see them you lack assurance. Weakness and tiredness make us even more susceptible to doubt. You can imagine the most outrageous unfaithfulness, forgetfulness, or become convinced that you cannot possibly be love-able.

And then you hear the voice of one who loves you. Love which reverberates through every syllable; love that can't be denied. When God feels absent it takes an effort to remember the last time we heard his voice or sensed his presence. But he is always faithful, never forgetful.

When the sheep hear the shepherd's voice, they know it. All other voices are exposed for what they really are. The shepherd does not desert his sheep when the wolves of terror appear, when doubt breaks into the fold, when fear snaps at the heels of the lambs. He does not walk away from the sheep that, in straying too far, has become ensnared by thorns. Rather, he de-tangles the sheep from her prison and carries her safely home.
(John 10:1-15)

Today: 4/10, medium

woodland meditation

(Went for a wintry woodland walk over Christmas. Thought would post some photos to share with you.)

Love and faithfulness meet together;

righteousness and peace kiss each other.

Faithfulness springs forth from the earth,

and righteousness looks down from heaven.

Psalm 85: 10-11

Teach me your way, O LORD,
and I will walk in your truth;
give me an undivided heart,
that I may fear your name.
Psalm 86:11

My heart is steadfast, O God;
I will sing and make music with all my soul.
Awake harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn.

I will praise you, O LORD, among the nations;
I will sing of you among the peoples.
For great is your love, higher than the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Psalm 108: 1-4

Yesterday: 4/10, medium Today: 4/10, medium

mind control

(...no, I'm not talking about some sort of hero's superpower. Frankly, if I'm asked which of those I prefer, at the moment I would probably say something like speed, or endurance. To be able to run without ever getting tired. So far removed from my current experience, I suppose.)

What I'm talking about is not controlling other people's minds; I'm talking about controlling my own. This has come to my attention in a few different ways of late, many of which are concerned with dealing with my illness, but can, I've realised, be equally relevant to life outside of that.

The week before last in our group session we talked about controlling and substituting our automatic thoughts. This is the stuff that comes into our minds when faced with certain situations. For example, I spill something. Often when we do something like this we can think to ourselves - 'oops, I'm so clumsy/stupid/careless' - where does that come from? Why not just 'oops, I've spilt something, I better clear it up.'

My own experience is that it depends on frame of mind, current circumstance and also physical well being - i.e. when we are desperately tired or feeling out of sorts we are much more likely to overreact or generalise or feel it's some sort of conspiracy against us as individuals: why does this always happen to me?

We were looking at how to substitute these thoughts with more helpful (and more rational) thoughts. E.g. 'Actually, this happens to everyone'. By looking at the evidence for our conclusions (which lead to an emotional response: guilt, anger, anxiety, despair) we can challenge that initial thought which leads to the emotional impact which, in the case of those who are not well, leads to more energy drain on an already weakened supply. I have to be careful of thoughts which say 'I will never get better', for example.

So that's a taster of what we were discussing. Another way I have been thinking about 'mind control' is as a part of my daily rest schedule, and the fact I'm supposed to be Relaxing with a capital 'R'. Some of the relaxation aids I've tried talk about witnessing thoughts coming into your head, like trains into a station, and choosing not to board that train. You acknowledge the presence of the thought and then let it pass by.

I like this idea of literal trains of thought - it makes me think of changing trains. I started to think of life in general - and more specifically my life as a Christian - and all the thoughts - good, bad, and ugly - which assail my mind each day. I say my mind because I know some people's minds are not so busy as mine - there are those of us who find it particularly hard to 'switch off', but nevertheless I think this applies to everyone. We all get thoughts which are unhelpful, sometimes downright harmful.

I started to think of not just witnessing my thoughts, but labelling them. Such as 'save for later', 'dismiss' or even 'resist at all costs.' Often it is said that by becoming aware of something, we are taking our first steps towards improving the situation. So I'm beginning to register more clearly thought patterns which arise in my head, step back a little and consider its merits - or whether it has any at all. And if necessary, pulling my mind back to something different, even if it as simple as the feel of breathing in and breathing out, concentrating on a simple function such as stretching out my shoulders.

Mind control - a habit formed by training, or discipline. The simple exercises I've been doing in my rest times are teaching my mind to pull back and focus on one thing i.e. my breathing, the music, relaxing my muscles. What I want to do is expand this to include the whole of life - so that when my mind encounters a destructive thought, an unhealthy thought, a bitter thought, I register it as such and consciously 'pull back' my mind and let that thought go.

Not an easy thing. Never an easy thing in a world where minds are continually fed by images, words, expectations. But if I believe that God has given his Holy Spirit, my counsellor, then I can believe I do not do this on my own. That he draws my attention to ugly thoughts and gives me an alternative. And that when I make mistakes, and find myself getting stressed and upset because I dwelt too long on a thought I should have let go, I can still pull back, I can know his comfort, and the assurance that he will never let me go.

I am on his mind continually, he knows my every breath. I only pray that I can learn to be aware of him more and more, until that day when at last all is fully known - and I will see him face to face.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. - Romans 12:2a

Today:3/10,very high

a psalm of my own

Was searching (unsuccessfully) for something in one of my old paper journals recently (you know - you have to use a pen), when I found this. Like a psalm of my own, written at a time I was struggling with my role and purpose in life - and of course the broken record that is the fatigue. Thought I would record it here...

O Lord, help me,
my heart is heavy;
it has sunk into the pit
of my stomach,
and my head resonates with the
drum, drum, drum
of daily living.
Where is my hope, O God?
Where has my strength gone?

It has evaporated,
and I am weak, limp
like withered petals,
like drooping leaves.
How can a drooping plant bloom?
How can a withered flower rejoice?
Yet I will hope in my Lord
my Lord, my Saviour.

Forgive sweet Lord my unbelief
do not let my physical weakness
drain away and suck up
my inspiration
like a vacuum cleaner.
Help, I am wilting,
I am unable to stand.
What is the purpose of my existence?
I want to glorify you forever
but I am too weak to shine.
My light grows dim;
I am a smouldering wick.
Take pity, Lord, on my confusion.

Have mercy, O God,
on all my nonsenses,
on all my fickle hope,
on all my dim-wittedness.
Take away this buzz-buzz
buzzing of my brain
and be that still small voice
beautiful.

O God!
I feel the despair swarm in my veins;
it wants to get out,
to spill in all directions.
But who would be willing to clear up the mess?
Only you, O Lord,
have a broom that wide.
Sweep, Lord, sweep me up,
spring clean me with concentrated hope,
set love alive and polish me
with faith, so that
I could shine, O God.

Do not let me fade.
Do not leave me.
Do not turn your face away!
Speak in your glorious whisper
so that I may recognise you,
in the cham-ching-clamouring
of my mind.

I admit, as I typed this up, I added the line 'like a vacuum cleaner' because it was something that struck me today as I was grappling with the vacuum hose how the fatigue sucked energy out of me...but also I pondered my desire that I wish I could suck out the fatigue itself. Sucked out in one big squuuueeeeecccchhh and leaving me lighter, without the grey stuff in my veins - which how I picture it sometimes.

Today: 4/10, medium

think on this...

This is the simple card I made for the current Salt Challenge. The gems I used for the flower centres are larger than I wanted them - but I've run out of the smaller ones.


How hard it is to direct our thoughts! There are those who are, by temperament, much more disciplined in their thinking than others - and there are those who can, amazingly, completely empty their minds. But I am so easily distracted! My mind burbles and bustles, tumbles and trundles, whirls and wiggles until I just want to say shut up. Directing my thoughts, and meditating, is a discipline I have been trying to learn, especially with the scheduled rests that are part of the lifestyle manage programme for my CFS/ME. At the moment I am finding it tremendously difficult...but I am digressing (something my mind is very, very good at).

How easy it is to have our minds dwell on unhelpful things. These can be dark, evil things, but they can also be more subtle. How easily we can become frantic or anxious. How easily we can forget to look towards the light. This is a challenge for me because I have such a chaotic mind. It goes off track very easily. Thus I find it hard to have long, established quiet times with God like some people do. I want to. I want to think about things of God instead of things of me, of my worries, of negative thoughts about life and health, about future and circumstance. I want to direct my thoughts towards things such as those in this verse, and sometimes I succeed. And sometimes I don't. I can only be honest with God, and pray that he helps me.

Today I had a doctor's appointment, with my new doctor. She seems nice - my records haven't caught up with me yet so I had to give a brief resume - not the easiest thing and I gabbled on rather fast as I didn't want to take up too much of her time! Still, she was helpful, and I think I will be able to talk to her in future, which was the whole point of changing. She upped my dosage of the tablets I am on for my head, as I am on a very tiny dose, to see if that helps. Even the new dosage is classified as small, so I am happy with that.

I have an appointment at the clinic of the CFS/ME service tomorrow. I think they are worried that I am getting depressed and not managing very well. As I said to my doctor, I would describe my feelings as emotionally weary. Because I am so wretchedly tired, and this frustrating headache / neck ache in addition to it, I feel ill equipped to deal with events - whether they be physically or mentally demanding. I feel very easily swamped, and drawn to anxiety. But it is not constant - it is only on the days I am particularly tired, or when circumstances have piled up unhelpfully. I pray that the discussion will be constructive and I can go away feeling comfortable with the outcome.

Do you ever wish you had an 'off' switch? Or at least a 'standby' mode where you weren't thinking anything, just recharging? I do.

Today: 4/10, high

fallen flowers

While sorting out Charlie's hay this morning I did my usual glance around at the state of the back garden. It's been looking quite pretty, but the recent high winds and heavy rain have had an effect. Some of the flowering bulbs are looking quite bent and battered. A few I had previously propped up slightly, and these seemed to be surviving. If I left them there, flat on their faces, the flower heads would soon be devoured by slugs.

I have to confess I am the sort of person who can make analogies about a whole lot of things in life, and sometimes very silly ones, but I was particularly struck for a moment this morning. I thought of how at times in life we are battered and blown around, how we feel bent down and brought low. And I thought of how important it is for us to be 'propped up' at those moments, to have the support we need, so that we aren't eaten up by all the things that beat at us while we lie on our faces. How a little support is no bad thing, and can give us strength for the future. How we often do not see someone's beauty because they are lying face down, like fallen flowers. But lift them up, and they are given a chance to recover, and display all their beauty and colour.

That is what I thought of in the garden this morning.

the river

I'm in a garden, by a stream.
The water is beautiful, gentle, inviting.
Someone is with me.
He wants me to follow the stream to its source.
So I start to follow.
The stream is pleasant, and I enjoy being with my companion.
It starts to widen, and becomes a river.
I am walking not beside but in it, against the current.
The current is strong, and taking steps is hard work.
My companion often reaches out pull me through or support my back as I push towards my goal.
Now there are rapids, and rocks, and I feel exhausted and bruised.
I know I must reach the source of the river.
I stumble often, and at times my companion has to pick me up and carry me over jagged rocks.
Sometimes I lose sight of him, but he is there, in the right place to catch me or help me.
I am so tired of the current, but I know I must make it, I must follow.
I must continue with him, as long as it takes.
It would be easy to be swept away, and though sometimes this almost happens, he catches me.
I do not know when this will end.
I don't know why I am going through it.
I only know I must.

easy...

Easy to think: life is measured by achievement, or at least busy-ness. If I do not do this, then I am not...

Easy to forget: in quietness and trust is my strength; in repentance and rest is my salvation.

When the whirlwind threatens: lean back, pause, re-orientate.

Remember the reason.

"In repentance and rest is your salvation,

in quietness and trust is your strength,

but you would have none of it."

Isaiah 30:15