Happy Anniversary to my period

You may know I'm the fan of the random anniversary but I think this might be up there with my most random. Like when I worked out my husband and I had been together 11 years, 11 months 11 days. 

Today its 20 years since I started my first period 

I know I don't look that old and when I tell you I was a late bloomer you'll realise how far into my 30s I am.

I've spent the last 21 months thinking, writing and talking about my periods, other peoples periods, blood and cycles alongside church and ministry. 

And I'm not done with it yet. 

The dissertation is done, the graduation robes have been hired but talking about menstruation and ministry is just too fun. 

I'm not yet sure all that this will look like. But watch this space for discussion, theology and exploration of all things menstrual. 

My Dissertation didn't include it but almost every period book I've read includes the first period story so here you are. If you are getting tmi feels these blogs are probably not for you. 

I got my first period 3 days before my 16th birthday. I remember my mum had said when I turned 15 that she was sure it would start this year, I'm not sure if she'd suggested the same the year before but this time she was right but it was close.

I was at school and having gone into the toilets found blood in my knickers and after washing my hands a friend from the year below me walked in and so I told her, cos I was so relieved it had finally started.

I went home and found me "have you started yet" book that I'd owned for years and accidentally left it in a place my younger brother could find it. It did help when over the next few days I'd dyed the toilet bowl red that I could reassure him no one was dying.

This 20 year journey has got me into awkward and painful and most recently fascinating places. So watch out for possible blogs, videoes, discussions and more on all things menstrual. 

Grieving (2) and reading

 Many weeks ago, when I first knew my truely wonderful family member was near the end her life and I was going to get to visit her in hospital I went to my favourite local bookshop to ask for a cosy book. 

I had previously loved Clare Pooley's the people on platform 5, (still the best book I've read this year) so Bert recommended The Authenticity Project. 

Its taken me weeks to read as in the midst of preemptive and then present grief I've found reading really tough and reading 2 chapters at a time beyond me. I've been sad about this cos I've recaptured my love of reading through hanging out at the book shop, and had any many books for my birthday. 

But in the last couple of weeks and mostly cos I've spent hours on trains so I've been able to power through and I've devoured chapters and chapters and last night finished that book. 

Grief is interesting in that I'm finding it's making me both more numb but also more emotional. In both, I guess, it's the rawness. 

This book was lovely but not as cosy as I'd hoped. And the ending just got me. I sat having finished the epilogue and needed a minute. Our pillow talk that night was all about Julian and Monica and Hazard and the others. The world any book draws you into is sometimes an escape but this one has very gently sat alongside my own grief and life. 

Also yesterday afternoon I went to see Marvels and wow that scene, the musical music, the sound effects, the acting, and then the weightnessless, it just moved me. 

I feel a different person: more raw, more emotional, more aware, and more sad. My work capacity is hopefully growing as I move towards that busy season. But I still need to journey gently.

Now which book next?

Grieving (1)

I'm currently grieving a truely wonderful family member. Someone who loved me so well and brought joy, passion and justice to all that she did. 

I'm a mix of all the expected emotions.

I'm away at college and so have had to tell a number of people, and the conversation multiple times today has gone like this. 

Them "hey Rach how are you?"

Me "oh not great, my relative died yesterday"

Them "I'm so sorry"

Me "that's ok, actually it's not ok, it's really crap. Anyway how are you?"

Basically I need to learn to say thank you when someone tells me they are sorry rather than trying to make them feel better. It's ok serves no one.

Grief is tricky, especially when it's fresh and raw, I guess also when it's not but that's not today's issue in this case. 

I don't wanna do the same as those conversations and try to make this blog have a happy ending, cos I'm devastated but also since I found out I've been held by people who love me, been sent chocolate biscuits and been glad to spend time with others also grieving the same person. 

So I can, as I must learn to do, be thankful, but also it's really crap.

Easter Day 2023 - Believing Women and other marginalised people

Sermon shared on Easter day at sunrise

Based on Matthew 28:1-10

There’s an African proverb, if you educate a man you educate one person, if you educate a woman, you educate a whole family. Of course gender roles are not, thankfully, what they have been in the past, there are many stay home dads now a days too. But the idea stands. Back in 2012 I heard the previous Archbishop of York’s wife, Revd Margaret Sentamu, who herself grew up in Uganda, speak of that proverb and of how women gossip. And here we see women ready to gossip the gospel. 

Gossip is often seen as a bad thing, and is also gendered, if we talk of “a gossip” I wonder if you, like me, imagine a woman. and now with GDPR we often feel nervous to share news that isn’t our own to share. And of course consent over information is important. Gossip as a word comes from the Old English phrase God Sib, which translates as God Parent, it was a companion so close that you would name them the god parent of your child. Those people you share life and good news with. In medieval Europe the word became a noun specifically referring to the female companions of a women during childbirth – which was apparently at that time a social affair. The bonding of the women in that space and that time, while one of them gave birth was special, and that is what a gossip was. Evidently it has changed over time. But there is something special and feminine about that closeness of sharing a story, sharing life with other people. So when we talk of gossiping the gospel this is much more what I mean. 

Jesus when he meets the women, and it is his choice to meet them, as they already have the news from the Angel. But when Jesus meets the Marys, he sends them off, and in the very opposite of what he’d been saying for much of the stories of his ministry where he asks the followers not to share of who he is, this time he sends them off to go and tell the disciples the good news, the gospel, that he is alive and where they are to go next to meet him. 

Here we have the story of the women who stayed, who went early in the morning to the tomb, creeping in the darkness, not knowing how they might move the stone and get to the body to anoint him with herbs and spices as was their tradition. And instead it was them, who heard the good news first, and who met with the risen saviour. 

When we read this passage we take it for granted that the women were treated as equal to the men, we know their names, albeit most of them Mary, but like Peter, James and John we sometimes just think of them as Jesus’ friends and yet at this point these women would have suspicious, untrustworthy, well they aren’t upstanding men of the community. 

When we think about it, it doesn’t make sense, why did Jesus reveal himself to the women, their testimony wouldn’t have stood up in court, no one believes women. There are times still today when women, trans folk, immigrants, refugees, people of colour, anyone who is marginalised is taken as suspect. This is still a challenge for us, to hear the stories of pain and oppression, to truly listen and believe what we hear, and to journey with those stories as Jesus would -  seeking liberation. For here we see Jesus who trusted women, and believed in women, and who let women share his story with the world. 

Because If Jesus wanted the testimony to stand up in court, then it would have been better to win over the guards, the people with power for they would have been believed. Much better than a group of woman who followed him round, provided for him. Maybe today it would have been the migrants fleeing war and terror and death arriving in small dangerous boats, who would be the ones Jesus would trust to reveal the majesty, the mystery, the magnificence of his return. 

For Jesus. Yes Jesus, is alive and reigns as King of Heaven and Earth and he tells that to us, to the women, to the outsiders, to ones who need a King to bring about liberation and grace and peace and love. Those who need new life. For it is for the poor and the persecuted that God has a preferential heart. And God uses ordinary, everyday people, the powerless and the lowly to share that news. So Jesus appears to the women so that they will gossip the gospel to all of creation. For it is for every single one of us that Jesus has risen and it is for every single one of us to share that news and to believe the women, to hear the voices of the oppressed and to ride with Jesus into new life, liberated in spirit and in truth. Amen. 

Good Friday 2023 - Apophatically finding God

Sermon shared on Good Friday 2023 at St Andrew's Methodist Church.

The service was working through the 7 phrases Jesus shared from the cross.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.
 
I wonder which of the words that Jesus uttered on the cross have resonated with you so far, there are more to come of course and they might speak more. For me this is one of the most powerful ones.
Here we see the humanity of Jesus.
They are words from Psalm 22, words Jesus would have known, and yet in this moment this is what he felt. Abandoned and alone, forsaken. Its similar to the image of Jesus in the garden before he was arrested, praying that God would take away the cup. In these moments Jesus’ humanity is obvious. For we need a human saviour as well as a divine one.
Here, Jesus, for possibly the first time ever, feels disconnected from the Father, in the suffering and pain of death and sin.
I’m not one for big theological words usually, but there are two that I think help and if you forget the words but remember the meaning then that’s ok, I often have to look them up to get them the right way around. These are cataphatic, and apophatic.
One – cataphatic is declaring things as they are. We do this a lot, in a prayer of adoration we say who God is. Or from the psalms God is gracious, compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in love, always good to all, compassionate to all of creation. And that is all well and good, when God feels close.
But there are times when we need to seek God in apophatic ways. The things that God is not. In this moment Jesus knew what it was like to feel like God was not there, and yet he still cried out to God. There is hope in Jesus’ proclamation even when the words sound hopeless. Into what feels like a void of being forsaken Jesus shouts to the God who he still hopes can hear.
There are times in our lives when we need to cry out to God and hold onto the things that we know God is not, when we can’t declare who God is.
It’s like when ordering food, I know I rule out the things I don’t like before I work out from a shortlist what is left.
Apophatically, We rule out things that God is not and in those gaps we know that God is.
Here in this moment a truly human Jesus, knew what it was like to feel distant from God, to suffer and be separated by sin. The divinity of God and the brokenness of the world meet in Jesus and at this very moment it is tearing him apart, bringing him to death. So that the divine and the human may once again be reunited.
I don’t know what you carry with you, what are the things that cause you to doubt, or to cry out to God, why have you forsaken me, and there isn’t an easy answer, but we do know that God knows what it is like to feel totally alone, to be abandoned and yet to cry out to our maker for God is not absent, even when it can feel like that. There is hope, for us as there is hope for Jesus.
God did not leave us, God did not abandon us and God did not forsake us.

Further reading on this I highly recommend The Dark Womb by Karen O'Donnell. 

Permission to be ourselves

 When did you realise it was ok to ask for what you need? 

I totally get there are times when it's important to accept what is put before you, but your happiness, needs and boundaries are important too.

About 18 months ago, when I was about half way through my full time training, I was sent on placement. One day I was having a walking lunch with the one of the clergy at the church. They made some comment like "I assume you are ok walking and eating, cos you'd have told me if you weren't, you don't get to this stage without being able to do that." 

No one before had ever given me that explicit permission to say what I need. Or at least expect that I knew that.  

I wonder how many times I've played nice to not rock the boat, and so much with food! We teach children the take it or leave it are the options at meal times, but also that a clean plate is a sign of being polite. (And also "earns" you pudding)

I even went as far as eating BBQ pizza when everyone knows you don't mess with the classic tomato base. And that was with a very close friend who totally wouldn't have minded, and didn't when I stopped eating it and explained, cos I realized if I couldn't tell them then who could I? 

So often we play nice when really those around us would much prefer to give us what we desire.

It's not just about food. There is so much in life where I know I've played nice, not rocked the boat and made myself uncomfortable in the process. But I have permission, and not given to me by anyone else but just because I'm a human with as much right as every other one to take up space and be authentically myself. 

I have lots of thoughts about when driving the motorway in my small car that I have as much right as the big cars to overtake and get where I want to and need to be. Just cos I'm (insert reason one might feel unimportant here)... small, young, new, female doesn't mean I don't matter. 

We just have to learn to give ourselves permission to take up space, and be our wonderful selves! 

If this were a sermon or a theological reflection there would be something here about us ALL having the image of God dwelling within our very being. And having that divine image within us grants us, as all of creation, the right to space and love and respect and to be known for who we truly are - beautiful creations of the almighty creator. Here ends the sermon.

So just incase no one has ever told you, know that you have permission to draw your own boundaries, to say what you need and don't want. And speak out, cos playing nice is all well and good but the world is a better place when you can be authentically you: a happier, healthier, more confident you. 

The importance of names

I do a tricky job, I'm on show most of the time, need to watch what I say and do, and who I am is a big part of that. 

I've asked at work to be called Rach. I've been doing this consistently now for 6 years and longer at 1 off events 

When I worked in the student world most of the time this really wasn't a problem but out in the adult world its apparently too informal, improper and people just won't. 

Now this isn't about the people who do it accidentally, they apologize, it's fine, we all slip into bad habits. 

But so many (mostly elderly) people tell me, "but Rachel is such a lovely / biblical name." Or "I can't call you Rach, I'm going to call you Rachel." Or best "I'll be the only one who calls you Rachel" oh I wish!

Then I check their name and it's short for something, or it's their middle name. But it's not the full name their parents gave them. 

And I smile and say that's ok, and make a joke about how formal we'll both be by using the full names, but generally call them what they asked to be called cos names are important and I don't want to be petty, I just want to be Rach.

I know it's not the end of the world, but respecting people enough to use the name they ask to be called by is important and respectful and it's never up to us to decide what we want to call someone when they have asked for something else. I know there have been times I've shortened people's names when they prefer the full version and for that I'm sorry. Cos it's not until I was regularly and purposely ignored that I really noticed how much I care about what I'm called. 

Let Love be Real

I'm in the last stages of preparation to be a probationary minister. In early September I'll be welcomed to my new circuit and I've been invited to choose a hymn for that service.

I wondered about come with me come wander (which fits September 4th lectionary well so I'm keeping that for then) or Come all you Vagabonds which has some powerful words of inclusion but have settled on Let love be real by Michael Forster (615 in StF). It's simple and profound and goes to Danny boy. Here are my top 6 reasons for requesting it.

1. "Let love be real" If the ministry I live out is about love then I've done good.
2. "Give me your hand" I had it at my wedding so feels like a good one for a place where Husband is to be welcomed too

3. "Give me your strength when all my words are weakness." It's full of powerful words, like this phrase which have been quoted by my best friend when I've been struggling with essays. I've sung them beside multiple people I love and are my commitment to my churches that together we find God's strength in one another.
4. "As God loves us." It's never about us, but first that we are loved by God. I'm so glad that my call to ministry is not about me, but about who God calls me to be - "make us brave to be what we might be"

5. "so let us love each other" There was a significant moment in April I was driving to the pastoral committee at my link church, at that meeting knowing I was leaving there were many moments I wanted to help but couldn't, yet on the drive over the travel news mentioned an accident in the town I'm moving to and my heart just went "that's my place to love." It's amazing after being matched with somewhere I hardly know I'd already committed to loving it.

6. "Just open hands and space to grow." I'm new, to ministry and have a lot to learn so hope this is a place where I can make mistakes and learn and grow, and the same should be true of the churches.Maybe also the line - "give me your trust when all my failings show" the Methodist Church is putting a lot of faith in me!

I look forward to what September has in store and singing that song with all its many meanings in my new circuit as together we learn to love in God.

Reasons I hate Mothering Sunday

It’s Mothering Sunday soon and I hate it.

I hate it cos I don’t have kids and its one of many Sundays of the year this is pointed out to me.

I hate that I hate it too, cos I love my mother, mother-in-law, and my grandmothers, my Godmothers and the other women (and non-women) who mother me.

I hate it cos when I say I hate it someone will undoubtedly tell me that I mother people in my own way and I don’t need kids, either biological or adopted to mother and that I’m such a nurturing character.

I hate it cos someone will undoubtedly tell me their miracle story of how they became a mother.

I hate it cos it means I hate flowers and every other day of the year I love being given flowers by people who love me, but these ones are look-you-don’t-have-children-daffs.

I hate it cos the church somehow thinks its important to have female preachers that day.

I hate it cos there are so many other reasons people struggle with it as well as childlessness and its rough on most of us one way or another.

This Sunday, thankfully I don’t have to go to church, but that is probably the last time I can get away with that. So I'll look after myself at home. 

Argh at Advent

 I’ve got a confession. I hate advent.

I hate advent cos its busy and it is all about a baby. Cos everywhere you go its images of happy children, pregnant women and just all the pressure of getting the right gifts and the best time with your perfect family. Now I don’t know about yours but my family ain’t perfect.

I hate advent cos there isn’t a day when I’m not reminded of my childlessness, this week we even celebrated the conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary – who I’ve learnt may also have been a virgin birth cos that is how she had no sin, who knew potential parents having sex was such a sinful thing – Augustine I believe, most things about the shame of sex are his fault! Or maybe its whoever invented original sin, oh wait, that’s Augustine too!

I hate the busyness and stress of advent, I have absolutely no idea what to get my husband as a present, mostly cos room is tight, cos we have the disposable income to buy what we want and need throughout the year and this year just like last buying experiences seems like they might be a waste – we still haven’t yet seen Rachel Parris from my Christmas present in 2019! (fingers crossed for attempt 4 and March 2022!)

I say all this knowing that I love Christmas, I love babies and I love Jesus. But argh the waiting and preparing is just a lot, don’t worry I’m going back to my essays now.

For my other blog about being childless at this time of year check out this link.

A go at some poetry

A few weeks ago I had to write a poem in class. It's a pantoum so actually made of 8 lines written twice in a pattern. It's a long time since I've tried to write poems and I was quite impressed how it worked out. 

I often wonder how minister me will be different

Cos she takes with her all of her past

She loves nothing more than to work with people 

The pastor, presider but also wife and friend

Cos she takes with her all of her past

Along with hopes for a future that may never come to pass

The pastor, presider but also wife and friend

The multifaceted parts of a whole

Along with hopes for a future that may never come to pass

She stands in the present with those that she serves

The multifaceted parts of a whole

The minister she's always meant to be

She stands in the present with those that she serves

She loves nothing more than to work with people

The minister she's always meant to be

I often wonder how minister me will be different. 

The jealousy and other emotions of non-motherhood.

I'm yet again in a place where I'm around pregnant women, and stories of motherhood is a common topic at college through my peers, staff going on parental leave and even the liturgy and worship.

I'm pretty certain it's the pregnancy announcement that is the worst part, cos pregnant friends are still my friends, just as friends with kids, though they have different priorities are still noticeably who they have always been. And I do love other people's babies, one of the real losses of the pandemic is not getting to know my friends babies born in 2020 as well as I'd want to.

And all the things in this blog are still true, I am incredibly grateful for having time to process a pregnancy announcement. And I'm learning trigger warnings in worship are such a good thing for all sorts of things.

But worship on motherhood, or a pregnancy announcement still knock me. Make me feel jealous, and then guilty for that jealousy. And just sad in my whole being. And grumpy oh so grumpy. It is sad that my first response is never the joy that a new baby to people I love (or just happen to journey near in life) should bring. I do get there, to the joy of this new life it just takes me a bit of time.
The initial ooft catches me unaware every time, though it really shouldn't by now, but you can't have a trigger warning for a pregnancy announcement.

I also know by being in full time training (And looking younger than I am - someone said I looked too young to be a wife last Sunday...) protects me from some of the "when will you have kids questions?" That I will need to find a concise, careful answer that doesn't bring my hurt to the fore every time.

What I haven't blogged about and don't plan to is why I've not got children,

1 that's personal,

2 it's complicated,

3 I don't think it matters for the rest of the content.

Right now not being a mother is more of a choice than its felt previously but if I could change all that I would. So all you need to know is one of my greatest longings is to be a mother.
Therefore I can't speak for those who actively choose not to be a mother, that's not my story.

Someone did ask if I had kids the other day, (after we'd talked about theirs so it felt a natural next question) to which I replied a simple "no" and they then moved the conversation on, that is how is should be.

I'm writing this because every time I say something I get someone (usually a mum) who will come to me and say, wow, I needed to be reminded of this and someone else who says I feel like that too, thanks for articulating it. And if you are either of those people and you want to talk more I'm here.
Some of you will share you I felt like that and "we got our miracle", I know you are trying to give me hope but it doesn't always come across like that.

And a bit of shameless self promotion my other blogs on this topic include:

The Child(less) of Christmas.
To my pregnant friends
What a week to be a woman
People who can ask if one hopes to be a mother

People who can ask if one hopes to be a mother...

• A person who believes (with good reason) that they would parent alongside you.
• Medical professional while discussing specific medical interventions.  
• No one else

PS - aren't you lucky this is a short blog and not the full on rant that it could be. I'm fed-up of people asking the "Do you want to be a mother?" question. It hurts, there isn't an easy answer and do they not realise they are actually asking about a couple's sex life, their reproductive organs and body in general, their hopes and dreams, their fears, their financial situation, their lifestyle choices. One more piece of advice - if a statement starts with "at least" it probably isn't helpful. 

What a week to be a woman

We are coming up to Mothers day so I’m raw about that already and then the rest of this week has happened!

Monday was international women's day, and I heard a woman when wished a happy IWD say “I don’t know why we need that” and I don’t know what you say to that.

Wednesday evening I was inexplicably drawn to twitter, the heartbreaking allure of women sharing what feels like it should be horror stories, but are actually just the day to day life of women. It seems strange to want to share the stories twitter reminded me of; the person who kissed me on the cheek to say goodbye at a workplace, the awkward moments I’ve had at train stations, on trains, in cities I don’t know. When I have had to quickly work out who I can trust for a lift home and whether someone when asking me where I live is just passing time or might want to stalk me. Some of it feels like particularly sexual harassment, some of it just harassment and some of it gets put down to unfortunately sitting next to someone high on drugs on a train. All of it wrong and not the world we would want to create. And that is just the stories I’ve remembered from the top of my head and am willing to share.

The solidarity of women sharing stories, knowing we aren’t alone in our fear was really powerful but incredibly sad. I’m also reminded how grateful I am for the people I can call when I’m walking so I don’t have to experience the fear of walking in the dark alone.

It’s Thursday night and I’m working with a group of my peers on a Mothers day runaways service. Tonight I’ve shared my why I hate mother’s day testimony. This is the story I’ve told this evening.

“This is the dress I was wearing when a church member came up to me to ask if I had any news. I’d nearly been married for 5 years so it was about time really. That question hurts because how do you say, no, that’s the one piece of news I’ve longed for for years, that I fear everyone is expecting me to share when I ring up people to tell them anything else. When I go to a baby shower and someone says “it’ll be you next” without knowing the truth that probably it won’t be, maybe it never will be. So you joke about the great roast dinner you’ve just eaten, try to tell them that wasn’t an appropriate question in the first place, and remember not to wear this dress again. But you are the God who sees me”

As a group we’ve discussed what makes it difficult the different sides we all come from, I talked of how much I hate flowers on Mothering Sunday, the let me give you something to remind you you aren’t a mother – cos all women have to have them. I am incredibly grateful for this group (of mostly but not exclusively women) sharing their pain and stories just like the night before. The creative response was to put food colouring in the water for some flower and leave white flowers in it, knowing that our lives colour the world as we see it and in a very small way redeeming those flowers for me.

Thursday afternoon I was in a lecture and we had to share our favourite hymn as the ice breaker I was reminded of For everyone born which I have sung often with Methodist Women in Britain and the chorus goes - 

God will delight, when we are creators of justice and joy.

What a week to be a woman, where women are celebrated and murdered, in danger yet loved.

We have to keep going, not just by walking in the dark to not let the criminals keep us in our homes but keeping being the caring nurturing types to create a world of justice and joy and share our stories.

The Ifs of right now

 I feel like life currently has a big if caveat. Or maybe more correctly lots of little ifs:

• If we aren’t ill
• If the government rules don’t change
• If I’ve not made too many other risky decisions this week
• If God and the Conference wills it

And most recently

• If the internet plays ball.

See its not just a covid thing for me. This is something I’ve been holding on to for longer.

Just over a year ago I started the candidating process. That is the Methodist Church’s discernment process for me and they to decided if I really am called to the ordained ministry – basically should I be a minister or not. Throughout the whole process I talked of the if, and when I didn’t it was implied. For so many things, any plans I wanted to make it was held in the IF of if this is God’s will, if I am right, if the church makes a decision the way I hope they do. I very much had to live in the moment, the now that we do know.

Many people thought they knew for certain this is where I would end up. When my Mum met someone who is part of the community where I am now training and said she was my mother back in the early spring, they said “Oh yes, She’s moving to Queens in the summer” when actually no one knew that for certain.

People assumed I was doubting myself when they asked about the next stage and I would say if I get through all these things, but I wasn’t doubting myself, or the process but trusting that it wasn’t on what I wanted alone but also the many ifs that hold the process together.

There were many moments when I thought and hoped that the ifs would be over. Once Conference had willed I was a student presbyter then I would know with more certainty what my life would be like, at least in the short term. However, candidating wasn’t the end of the ifs, because this process of discernment and formation lasts for many years to come but also we live in a pandemic.

In Early October I will for the second time this year not see Rachel Parris. In May they moved the tickets to October this year and just a few weeks ago we heard that our tickets are now valid for October 2021. These tickets remind me of the ever ongoing if, if we get through this and things can be more normal then hopefully I will use these tickets – and really extend the Christmas 2019 celebrations. But right now we have to live with all the Ifs and hold on to the now of what we do know.

Things I've learnt from moving

 I've spent the last two days moving house. This is what I've learnt.

Have a friend who rings you to check you've had breakfast. In non-covid time that is the person who would have been with you for every box they could. Those sorts of friends are worth their weight in gold and you'll be so glad that technology means they aren't really an extra two hours away.

Removal men arrive early but still cope with all the things you hadn't done.

For the amount of times you think "It's not going to fit Sug" it will. 

It takes as long to pack the car and get out as the removal men took to pack a lorry with everything you own.

Sitting in an empty flat on garden chairs is odd,  but the longer you do so the more like home it will feel.

Neighbours who give you toilet roll when you can't find any are brill. 

Don't try to get a GP in person, fill in the online form.

Creating a video of the empty flat passes the time and let's your parents see where you are. 

Papa John's tastes exactly the same in the new place too.

Make at least 3 plan As for where the furniture might fit. 

Every time you go through your front door you'll discuss, but without any real suggestions, what you could put on it to represent you both.

The friends who message excited you live in their city are awesome reminders that you aren't alone.

Always check you have the air bed stopper.

Apparently your first response to not having the stopper shouldn't be "shall we get a Travelodge?"

A late night drive to a local supermarket is a really fun de-stress together. 

You will call it home sooner than you'd think, probably helped by returning to it a number of times already. Also your Emmet alarm clock will help to make it homely by bedtime.

Sleeping on the newly bought air bed is actually ok, waking up at 3.30 thinking you've had a whole nights sleep is less so.

Using the awake time to look up chest of drawers will make your Facebook ads full of furniture. Also have deep thoughts about tipping removal men.

When you worry the van is bigger than the flat and go back to saying "It's not going to fit Sug" you'll make it work. 

Papa John's chocolate scrolls are perfect moving day part two breakfast. But try not to drop chocolate on the floor.

Having a best friend who lets you go on and on about where everything might fit (and hundreds of other thoughts) as you process these strange times is vital.

You will be so proud when you manage to plumb the washing machine in.

You will have left something really important at the house, that you didn't think was urgent so left to get on Wednesday. For us it was all the bins!! 

Despite the fact about 1/3 of your boxes went into storage you maybe still didn't downsize enough. You'll realise this sitting surrounded by boxes when there are still more things in the van... 

Where the tv is going is a really important decision and more important than many others!

"In the kitchen" is the go to answer for "where shall I put this box" for everything. No one needs to get in the kitchen 

It will all fit but who knows where it's going to live outside of their boxes. 

Putting the bed together won't be easy but it will be a chance to show how much you trust the one you share a bed with by letting them insert the slats on your side while you theirs with the phrase "slide click click" 

Having the bedroom done even though there are boxes everywhere else feels amazing. Try not to worry that most of your clothes are still in the kitchen though.

You'll start a shopping list when there are more things than you can remember to go on it.

Sometime later you'll remember and yell "clamp lamp" at your spouse and they will totally get what you mean.

Unpacking is just new decisions and lots of stretching.

Friends who offer garage space and collect things the day you move in are totally wonderful, and especially when they bring scones! 

Trapping your fingers in a drawer is painful

Putting books in a bookcase is glorious. And a friend who rings up to check in and who knows the order of the NT letters is perfect timing.

Running out of books before book shelves is the dream.

Facebook reactions and comments will remind you how lucky you are to have a beautiful home and many caring friends.

Everything is shattering but knowing the bed is made is such a comfort

The toolkit (or anything else you need) will always be in the wrong room even when there is only 3 rooms.

Be reassured in everything you've achieved in such a short amount of hours. Yes there is still lots to do but it's only day 1.

Have a Matt, seriously could not do any of this without him. <3 And he went to the shop for bin bags and came back with chocolate and flowers (knowing I'd already found the vase)

The gift of furlough

Life is incredibly strange right now, I get that.
I also know I'm writing from an incredibly privileged place.

Husband and I am are both well, both working in our separate offices in our safe, comfortable house. There are two of us and I couldn't imagine going through this time on my own. I do get all that.

Yesterday the trustees at the charity I work for decided to furlough the entire staff team for the month of July. The staff weren't consulted on this because the leadership seemed to believe that all the staff would jump at the chance to have a month off. But for me furlough is a gift I do not want.

I've never been good at responding to unwanted gifts, I can not hide the disappointment in my face at a gift that I do not understand or think I don't want. I am often surprised (even Rev that Husband bought me years ago might appear on my to watch list soon) and I really hope with this that it is a gift that is good for me, I just fear that it is not.

I'm scared of weeks with no structure, of no reason to be out of bed for a certain time, of endless days in my onesie, of giving up on even a weekly walk, of not having things to talk about as my work fills many of my conversations, of not having my colleagues to get alongside each morning, I'm scared I'll lose some of who I am - when I feel I've lost so much already.

It's not like there isn't things for me to do. I'm about to become a full time student again and therefore spending time reading will be really useful. I do need to pack my whole house down to move, July just feels too soon, too imposed, too out of my control. And if you are a long time blog reader you'll know staying in control is important to me, and change is difficult.

I've spent the last year exploring what God wants next for me, and its culminated in me going to theological college in September to train to be a Methodist Presbyter. I know this is the right thing, being a minister is who I am to be in the next stage of my existence. I sat in a church on Ash Wednesday and had the longing that when I return to dust I want to be a minister.  I've spent the whole of last year living in the "if." Being really good at not assuming anything was going to work out till I had it on paper. What I wasn't expecting was to have three different people doing my review meetings at work 3 months in a row. The masses of staff change at work since January and of course a global pandemic have all just made this time so so strange.

I've gone from three months to go at work to realistically 6 and a half weeks, with 5 weeks off 2/3s of the way through that.

I'm sad that this is how I'm leaving the charity I've loved working for over the past four years. I'm sad that we won't get to go out for a goodbye lunch cos working in the office is still a long way off. I'm sad that I'm stuck on 2305 trains as my total for my time there. I'm sad that my July plans are going to have to be crushed into June or August.

Most of all I'm sad cos leaving is difficult and this really isn't how I wanted to leave.

To my pregnant friends,

To my pregnant (and recently pregnant) friends,

Thank you
For how you've told me you are pregnant via message or in a 1-2-1 chat before you announced your happy news to a group of our friends.
For being honest about the fertility journey you have been on too. It's great to talk periods, contraception, struggles, hormones and how no one told you about the folic acid you could have been taking for months already.
For asking how I am.
For not making everything about babies but also not being afraid to talk to me about them either.
For inviting me to your baby shower and not being offended if I don't come (I've been, it's not fun)
For letting me be part of your baby's life, for letting me cuddle and feed them. I do love babies.

To my non-pregnant friends,

I see you.

Thank you
For sharing your stories with me, I'm honoured.
For being a safe place to go to with jealous thoughts and in my sad moments.



To all my friends,

Thank you
For journeying on this thing we call life with me.

Rach

The Child(less) of Christmas

Christmas is all about children.
Or so it seems as a childless adult.

Both in church, where it’s nativity season telling the story of the holy baby, and even in my sign choir where during “silent night” again and again I’ve signed holding the holy child, representing that special mother.
And in the rest of the world, adverts, facebook, the latest exploits of that naughty elf on the shelf that my many parent friends are sharing.

The season is all about children.

Also many of my closest friends have given birth this year, including to my beautiful God Daughter, so this Christmas more than ever before I seem to be surrounded by babies.

Now I’m childless for a myriad of reasons, most of which are completely out of my control, and I’m not going to go into right now, it's not the why that is important but just that I am childless not by choice, you need for the context. I also have a number of close friends facing fertility issues this year, and I’m sure I have in previous years but maybe without knowing it.

The thing that struck me most was deciding which Christmas card to send to which of our friends. “unto us a child is born” feels like a mockery to those not holding a child this Christmas, so if you got one of those you have probably had a baby recently, and we do hope for you that this is a very special first family Christmas with your own special baby to celebrate.

I’m preaching tomorrow on the other baby of Christmas, the one born to an old barren mother, the one who’s father was so shocked his wife could get pregnant he was totally speechless. The Bible is full of miracle babies, but then it wouldn’t tell the story of baby-less women as there was no child to grow into someone remarkable.

Maybe it’s because I just turned 30, maybe it’s everything 2018 has held (ups and downs, lots of change, death and parties) and maybe every Christmas has always had a baby to its centre. But this year, like when I was aged 7 and upset I didn’t get to be Mary in the nativity, this year I’m very aware there is no child in my Christmas.

I don't want this to turn into a, "it will all be ok cos Jesus" blog. Because right now I'm sad and jealous, and my Christmas feels a bit empty.

However, there is of course a baby in my Christmas, Jesus, and tomorrow I will preach about joy in all things. The deep seated God given happiness, looking on the bright side of life's journey, and I do truly believe that, as I hold on to that baby, that most important baby of Christmas that all will be well. That doesn't mean life will be easy, that tomorrow I will wake up and all my dreams will come true, and that joy is not coloured by the sadness, anger, fear and disgust that life also carries. (Can you tell I found the Inside Out film very helpful in understanding emotions?)

So this Christmas I seek joy through sadness, in the children and adults I get to journey through life with and in the Saviour I seek to serve who came to earth and dealt with being a human with all our complex emotions.

Placing the child in the centre

I don't often write prayers but sometimes I have an idea, and can't find what I want on google so I have to write it myself. Feel free to use it or adapt it if you wish.
I used this when preaching on Mark 9:36-37.

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for all God’s children across the world, those hurt, unsafe or starving, those ill and dying, those lonely or alone.

God parent of all, be with your children

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for all those who hold power, who’s decisions impact the lives of others, may they choose to protect those in their care. We pray for those who lead and teach, may they enable others to grow to their full potential

God parent of all, be with your children

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for parents, grandparents, God parents and all those who act like parents. We pray for those for whom parenthood is difficult, those who have lost a child, and those who long to be parents.

God parent of all, be with your children

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for those children known to us, the children in our Sunday school and youth groups, the children we are related to, or love as our own, those we see grow day by day and those we see infrequently, those we know by name and those we don’t.

God parent of all, be with your children

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for those known to us who at this time need to know your love – (prayer book)

God parent of all, be with your children

As we place the child in the centre, we pray for ourselves, reminding ourselves that we are beloved children of God, the God who knows our needs before we even ask.

God parent of all, be with your children.

Amen