The tradition of the bedtime story (or, what if my child is an alien genius?)

Oh, here we go. That's Not My Cat. The humans like to read this book a lot, so I join in to show my allegiance. It's a bit repetitive, but I do like this one. It's better than That's Not My Unicorn. Plus, these humans actually have a cat living in their house, so there's always a little chuckle over that.

That's not my cat, the humans say, pointing at the front cover. Its tail is too soft. Obediently I reach for the textured part of the book. Yes, they say lovingly, well done!

They open the book and I read the next one quickly in my head, but of course they don't know I can read. I try to turn the page again before they've finished saying the line, so they don't get suspicious. 

That's not my cat... I try to turn back to the previous page this time. Ha! No, the humans say calmly, we turn it this way! They are a very patient species. We would normally abandon our offspring if they showed such little intelligence after so many months. 

That's not my cat. This next page is a good one to keep my cover - the textured bits are actually the cat's paws, but there is a picture of a ball in the middle which has darker patches on and so I grab for that instead. No, the humans say fondly, it's the paws! They guide my hands to the right bit. I don't think they have any idea yet.

That's not my cat, they read aloud. I start to tune out a little - to be honest I could recite the book to them by this point, but we're still pretending I can't speak either, so I mustn't give the game away. The other day at breakfast I forgot, and when they asked if I wanted more porridge, I said "no" without thinking. The humans stared at me in surprise, and then laughed, which was odd, but I think I got away with it.

That's my cat, they chorus on the final page, grabbing hold of my hands to make sure I feel the fluffy ears.

I'm not sure why they enjoy this book so much, especially as I've seen much more challenging material on their bookshelves. Maybe soon they'll read me Pride and Prejudice, or The Ladybird Book of the Zombie Apocalypse. I want to know how that one ends - I read most of it the other day, but I had to stop when they came to see why I was so quiet and I pretended I was just pulling all the books off the shelf again.

Nevertheless, it is a nice and calming pre-sleep routine, and I will report back that all humans do this before the offspring get to have their nighttime milk. It must be an ancient tradition. 

Recalling psalms in the small hours

1am. Baby is awake and needs rocking back to sleep. Perhaps I could try reciting a Bible verse in my head. What can I remember?

The Lord is my shepherd. Try not to sing the Vicar of Dibley theme tune. Although maybe it will help me remember the words. If God is my shepherd, I must be a sheep. We all like sheep have gone astray (baa baa doo baa baa). If I am a sheep, what does my shepherd do? Look after me, I suppose. Stop me escaping and getting lost. Stop other things getting in and harming me.

The Lord is my shepherd... what comes next? I lack nothing? I have everything I need? The hymns say 'I'll not want'. I have everything I need - that sounds simple, let's stick with that. Do I have everything I need? Well, the Bible says it, so it must be true... But sometimes I feel I don't have enough time, or patience, or energy. So what is it saying? The Lord is my shepherd + I have everything I need. Maybe that's why. I have everything I need because the Lord is my shepherd? Perhaps everything I need is the Lord being my shepherd?

The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He makes me. Whatever this is about, I don't think it's a suggestion. God says I need it. I'm not actually lying in a field, but that sounds like something restful. The shepherd has things under control, so this little sheep can rest, safe and provided for.

The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. Or still waters, in the hymn and Dibley versions. Still waters... run deep? No, that's what they say about quiet people. Quiet and still waters sound calm and pleasant though. He leads me, rather than makes me, this time. If I follow, he leads me to a place of refreshment.

The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. Refreshment, restoration, reset for the soul. That sounds good.

Baby is definitely asleep now.

The Lord's my shepherd. I'm glad he's mine.

I tried to write about something else

I tried to write about something else -

I had a few ideas

But somehow they didn't form themselves, 

And I had to deal with tears.

I tried to think about something other

Than what things baby may need,

But the house wants babyproofing 

And she awoke asking for a feed.

I tried to look at something else

For once since becoming a mum,

But somehow entire days pass by

Watching baby find her thumb.

I tried to talk about something other 

Than whether my baby was happy,

But then the wee one made it clear

That what she needed was a nappy!

I tried to walk somewhere else

Without feeling I was rushing,

But my baby woke up in the pram

And I had to keep on pushing.

I tried to write about something other 

Than baby being the reason,

But then I realised - that's ok -

This is my current season.

Enjoy every minute.

When our daughter was born, several people told me that the time passes so quickly and therefore I should enjoy every minute. While I am generally a believer in the Mary Poppins "find the fun" school of thought, there are a lot of minutes in a day. And in the night. Enjoy every one?

Recently a friend sent me a message asking "how is motherhood?" I replied with "tiring, fun, anxious, repetitive, special, relentless". Some minutes are lovely, and some minutes are laugh-or-cry, but surely every life journey has minutes that cannot be dressed up as good. Some minutes in any life are going to be awful. Dark. Painful. Lonely. Disappointing. Wasted.

I do realise that most of the "enjoy every minute" well-wishers are probably not meaning this to be taken entirely literally. But the phrase has stuck in my mind, because even in the first few days of caring for a precious baby, it seemed jarring. 

The Bible talks about joy and being joyful in difficult circumstances, and tells us to rejoice always. One memorable passage in the book of James, chapter 1, says this: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." We should have joy in trials and testing? Really?

A few years ago, I read a little book by the Christian missionary Helen Roseveare called Count It All Joy. Despite some truly horrific 'minutes' in her life, she writes that she heard God saying, "Can you thank me for trusting you with this experience even if I never tell you why?" 

This was a helpful way of reframing joy for me. We tend to equate joy with happiness, and we can therefore feel guilty or frustrated when the Bible says we should be joyful always. How can we be happy and enjoy life when things are falling apart? Did the Bible writers not live on this planet?! 

Of course they did, and many went through terrible ordeals. These are not naive platitudes then, but something more. 

This is a subject a brief blog post cannot do justice to, but it seems to me that, to some extent at least, this kind of joy is a choice (although I think the theologian and retired pastor John Piper may disagree with me - see his article on the definition of joy). We aren't going to feel joyful when we wallow in challenging circumstances. We may not feel happy, but we can have joy. We can learn to trust God and, like Helen Roseveare, choose to thank Him for whatever situations He has ordained for us.

Our lives will be filled with all different kinds of minutes. Happy, sad, empty, full, painful, numb. Minutes that feel like hours. Minutes we want to remember. Minutes we would rather forget. 

We might not enjoy every minute, and I think that is ok. But we can begin to recognise God at work, trust and thank him, and so practise choosing to count it all joy.

Picking up where I left off

Hello again, world. 

It's been a while since I put virtual pen to paper, and I'm no doubt a little rusty. I last posted some reflections during the first Covid lockdown, and while there has been plenty to write about since then, it has been hard to find the words, or the time. 

A lot has changed, and on the surface life today looks very different to how it looked six years ago. Some things have changed permanently, while other changes were - or are - temporary. But when I look beyond the surface, many things remain the same. 

We are so used to the constant changing nature of life that perhaps we lose an appreciation of the "unchanging". There are the big changes of course - births, deaths, marriages, new jobs, new houses - which we expect to alter our experience in big ways. 

But even when there are no big life events and life is stable, life is not static. New shoes. New car. New road layout ahead. Your monthly direct debit is increasing. Sainsburys have moved the eggs to the other side of the shop. 

Not much in life is truly a constant. But God is, and always will be. 

So for today, take comfort in the truly unchanging rock of ages, who is the same yesterday today and for ever, from everlasting to everlasting. He the LORD does not change, and he is our ever-present help in trouble (Hebrews 13v8, Psalm 90, Malachi 3v6, Psalm 46).

All by myself?

One little word: lonely. 
  
Being by yourself is one thing. But lots of people feel trapped in their aloneness. And in this season of restricted social movement, more people are alone against their will and finding themselves lonely. 
  
In a cloud of loneliness the other afternoon, I flicked on our church Spotify playlist to distract me with some more wholesome music. 
  
“Messiah still, and all alone…”
  
This line lodged in my mind for a moment. Jesus was all alone at the cross. Jesus knows what it is like to experience being alone in a horrible situation. 
  
We read in the New Testament accounts of his death that Jesus calls out from the cross, in a reference to Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
  
He felt forsaken. Utterly abandoned. Jesus was cut off from relationships. He was abandoned by his friends, who ran away when he got arrested. And worse than that, he was cut off from his Father, with whom he has had the closest of relationships since before the creation of the world. At the cross, Jesus took on the sin of the whole world, and sin breaks relationships with God. 
  
So Jesus was alone. He has felt the terrible pain of separation. He has felt this aloneness.
  
He has gone through this and more. He has felt like this and worse. And it was for us. 
  
He loves us and he has been through the trials of human life on earth, just like us. 
  
The writer of Hebrews puts it like this: 
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to feel sympathy for our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”
  
We may still be lonely. But we can bring this to him, knowing he knows, and he cares. 
  
(Hear the full song: O Praise the Name by Hillsong Worship) 

One more year in Yorkshire

Incredibly, it’s been two years since I packed up my life to come to the Yorkshire coast and join Trinity Church Scarborough. I have grown to love this town, on sunny days and grey days, days when it’s sunny everywhere else but misty right here, days when it smells like seaweed when I step outside my front door. It is still nowhere near an IKEA, but somehow I’ve learned to reassess my need for meatballs, and to plan better for flatpack-related emergencies. 

The second year has flown by even faster than the first. I feel properly settled in my home, in church, and at work. And yet, the past year has brought its own set of changes and challenges at work, at home, with family, among friends. Anxieties, hopes, celebrations, disappointments. 

My mind takes longer to process things, emotions run high, and I have often been in need of more headspace. I have reduced my hours at work – and I find that a day off during the week is a regular reminder to me that life is not all about paid employment, and gives me time to catch up with to-do lists and freedom to spend more time with people. 

I am making new friends and deepening friendships with others. I have joined a lovely choir. And I have seen the good news of the Christian faith being shared in many different contexts. 

The summer has been particularly busy. Over the past few weeks, we have seen lots of visiting children in our Sunday sessions for kids. There has been a team of people on the beach engaging with families. Various people spent time in the town centre talking to people about their thoughts about God. I spent one morning with them, walking up and down the high street (with a friend who was wearing an inflatable horse and cowboy suit) inviting people to our church ‘Wild West’ themed holiday club, which is happening this week. 

And several of us spent a week in the Scottish borders on an 11-14s camp, which despite the rain, exhaustion, and physical challenges, gave us so many opportunities to talk about Jesus. It was a joy to see teenagers think about the message of hope for themselves, but I am still recovering from the week! I haven’t been away for a break yet, although one of the delights of living here is that an ordinary day off by the sea can feel like an instant holiday.

There are always smaller everyday conversations to be had, with Christians and others, encouraging each other in what can seem like small ways but that can have a lasting impact. I am often not as bold as I should be, and there is a challenge to make more of our normal interactions with the people who “happen to be there”. 

I asked my midweek small group to pray with me a few months back that I would use the space in my house and the time in my week well. I have had so many opportunities to use the house I’ve been given – from hosting meals, to family holidays, from friends visiting the coast, to beach team volunteers, and even Christmas. 

Life still feels hectic at times. There are good days and bad days. I need to take my comfort from God’s faithful promises in the Bible, rather than the changeable attention of those around me. I am trying to recognise my own limitations, and think about how I can best use my free hours. I will undoubtedly make mistakes in every one of these things.

As I sit and look back, I can also look forward with confidence. I may not know what the next two years might hold, but I know that I face them with a loving church family, and an unchanging God.