Is God calling you?

This is not to do with Kieran but I am often asked to post my sermons and therefore here is last week’s – written not as an essay but something that was spoken..It’s about us hearing and being open to God calling us and based based on 1 Samuel 3:1-10

Opening prayer

Open our ears, O Lord, to hear your word and know your voice.

Speak to our hearts and strengthen our wills, that we may serve you today, now and always, Amen

Have you ever been called by God?

Perhaps some of us find this a difficult question to answer.  After all, not many of us have had the kind of dramatic call experiences that we read about in the Bible.  When we think of God’s call we perhaps think of a call like Moses experienced— a big booming voice coming out of a burning bush in the middle of the desert.  It’s a great story, but how many of us can actually relate to that?   If that’s what a call from God looks like, then I suspect our answer to this morning’s question for most of us would be a resounding no.  We hear these stories in the Bible about a God who calls people in extravagant and fantastical ways, and we notice the lack of such extravagant events in our own lives, and maybe we are left wondering– is God really still speaking to us?  Is God really still speaking to me?  And if God is in fact calling me to do something– how on earth will I know?

Unlike Moses’ call from the burning bush, Samuel’s call was much more ordinary, and much less clear.  As far as Samuel could tell, it wasn’t God’s voice at all that he heard, but rather the voice of his mentor Eli coming to him from the next room.  At the beginning of this story we are told some significant details. We are told in verse 2 that: “The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not common.” This reflects the situation at the end of the book of Judges; a sad commentary about God’s people which finishes with the words “Everyone did as he wanted to”

Yet there is a glimmer of hope here. We are also told in verse 3 that “the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was.”

In Samuel’s story, we can begin to see how understanding and responding to God’s voice is not usually easy.  Three times Samuel hears God’s call, and three times he jumps up from the temple floor, running to Eli in the next room, not recognizing that the voice calling to him was in fact coming from God.  Like Samuel, our process of discerning God’s voice amidst all the other voices clamouring for our attention is often a process of trial and error.  It may require us to strike out a few times, to risk imperfection or failure, to jump up and head in the wrong direction before working out where we need to go.

Sometimes I think we expect that God’s voice will be the voice that tells us exactly what to do, exactly how to do it, and exactly when to begin. We think that if it’s God’s voice calling us, there will be no room for ambiguity or uncertainty. But if that’s what we think, then we need to think again!

It is easy to miss God’s call, or attribute it to a human instead. In speaking of their call, most people do not describe a major disruption in their lives. Instead they speak of a quiet, slow awakening−perhaps to a life of service or an injustice that needs to be addressed. Like Samuel, they often tell about a period of uncertainty regarding what they are being called to do or be. Also, Samuel needed Eli to explain to him what these stirrings mean. It often takes others in our lives to aid us in understanding the call God places before us.

When reflecting on my own call to be a Reader I certainly didn’t recognise it at first, it took others to tell me! But although I thought I was wholly unsuited, not knowledgeable enough, hadn’t been a Christian long enough, didn’t understand all the Anglican or Churchy ways, etc, etc I agreed to open myself up and follow processes and see. Doors opened- every time I thought I was unworthy, something would happen to confirm that it was God’s choice – but it wasn’t until the very last day of my Reader Training, just before being admitted and licensed that I was overcome with emotion, someone lay their hands on me and told me what they saw was from God and that I accepted that I had been called. It took about 12 months of nudging me, a further 6 months exploring and then being accepted and then a further 3 years of training- so it certainly wasn’t quick.

Understanding our call is often a process of trial and error—of steps and missteps.  We can’t expect that our calls will be completely self-explanatory and perfectly laid out for us.  Notice that when Samuel first received his call from God, there were no instructions attached.  There was no grand plan laid out for him.  It was simply a moment of God calling Samuel’s name— trying to get his attention.  I think often this is exactly what it looks like when we first receive our call from God.  It’s those experiences we have of God getting our attention— snapping us out of our complacency— even if it’s only for one moment– in order to feel something extraordinary.  And then it’s up to us to take the next step and respond.  To listen for what may be coming next.  And to take a few risks along the way.

Samuel could be considered the outsider in the story. Eli’s sons are from the priestly line, and it is their birth-right to serve in the Temple. We hear elsewhere in the book of Samuel that they have not acted justly. They have used their position for personal gain instead of service to the Lord. Throughout the Bible, God does not always choose the expected ones. Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and David were all unlikely choices. Jesus calls fishermen and labourers to serve as disciples instead of the priests and prophets of Jerusalem. Power and position in the church or community do not guarantee a similar place in God’s world. All, even outsiders, are given tasks in God’s kingdom.

So have you ever been called by God? If you’re still not sure about the answer to that question, let me put it to you another way:

Have you ever had an experience of being filled with God’s unfailing presence and love?  Perhaps in a time in your life when you really needed it?

Have you ever heard about a problem in our community and been moved to want to help, even if it was just in a small way?  Have you ever heard about an injustice somewhere and thought to yourself— “that’s not right, what can I do?”

Have you ever sat in church and felt inspired to live differently?  Have you ever thought to yourself: there is more to this life then what the mainstream culture has to offer- with its focus on climbing the ladder of success and materialism?  Well God is calling you. He called each of us here to be a Christian for starters! For some that would have been less obvious if you were brought up in the Church perhaps but even so there would have been a point or points where it went from being the faith you grew up in to becoming your personal faith. For some of us who weren’t Christians it may have been a sudden event- it may have been a right mixture and that is more likely- it will have been different for each one of us.

We may be tempted to think sometimes that if we aren’t somehow out there doing extraordinary things that we aren’t really called by God.  But if that is what we think then we would do well to remember the words of a very wise woman who once said that “we can do no great things.  We can only do small things with great love.  It’s not how much you do, it’s how much love you put into it.”  That was Mother Teresa.

God’s call is not something we necessarily can make sense of with our head, but a sense of peace fills your very being even when your head thinks it cannot be. Often when discerning God’s call we have to explore things that turn out not to be. We also should be open to the fact that if God’s call occurs in one way at a particular time it could be quite different at another time. Since being a Reader I haven’t felt that God is finished with me- I have explored Christian counselling, volunteering for the Samaritans, workplace ministry, being a Children’s Society speaker to name but a few- knowing that God wanted me to do something. And I was getting impatient listening (How long does God need!? I’ve been a Reader for 8 years this year for goodness sake!). So  I was exploring for myself what I thought God might want me to do. None of these things have worked out, due to time or cost – I work full time and have had a growing family. However I have stopped saying to God- “here I am then- come on please show me what you want me to do” to just being still,  no longer looking but opened myself to say “okay God- they’ll be no more action with me trying to find out what you want- I’m just going to listen”. I now have a Spiritual companion or Spiritual director, to help me with discerning what God appears to be revealing but I have finally accepted God’s time, not my own. The thing about God’s call too is when we have a bit of time on our hands we think now might be a good idea to launch ourselves into things and think it must be of God- but sometimes it is our own will, wanting to fill the time and convincing ourselves it is from God. From my own experience, it is when I am at my busiest that God’s call comes- when I am not actively searching.

God’s call comes when we least expect it and often to those we least expect. God is always the God of surprises. We, as the church, need to be like Eli, encouraging everyone to hear the voice that calls them forth into all they are created to be. At the same time, we help each other to tell the truth, even when the truth is hard to hear.

The truth is, we don’t really know what will happen when we decide to follow the call.  It may just be that extraordinary things do happen when we start to do small things with great love.  Or it may be that ordinary things happen– but that they have an extraordinary effect on someone, somewhere.  And we may never even know about it.  And like Samuel, we may falter a bit at first.  We may jump up and say— “Here I am Lord!”  Only to be faced with a brick wall or a frustrating road ahead.  But that doesn’t mean that we aren’t called.  It just means that we have to keep on listening.  We must continuously present ourselves before God, and respond just as Samuel himself responded—by saying “speak Lord, for your servants are listening.”

When God calls he hopes for a response, if we don’t respond he will try again. Yes- there is risk for God’s call does not come lightly. For some, there is risk that the newness that God brings will also bring an ending to their way of doing things, an ending of the security of the past. For others there is risk that they will be called to forge into new territory in the power of the Spirit, to announce and help build the newness that God is bringing. God pushes us out of our comfort zone.

So listen, really listen to what God may be saying to you, don’t push it, don’t overthink it but be still and experience the peace of God. Turn off the radio, the TV, the computer- set your phone to voicemail. Read your Bible, say your prayers, give to God any guilt, resentment, failure and shame for these can get in the way of listening, really listening to God.  But then- be still -and in the silence, experience God’s presence. Open not your head and mind- although of course they are important too when wrestling with the Bible and world events and what it all means- but open your very being, your soul to God’s presence. Give yourself time- it may only be 10 minutes of stillness a day but make it count and make it the most important thing in your day- and don’t give up- it may take years, or it may not! And finally don’t be afraid- God equips us, gives us the strength and the skills for whatever task he has in mind for us- he would not call us to something he knew we couldn’t do.

In the words of the psalmist, God knitted us together in our mothers’ wombs, he knows us intimately, He made us and knows our every thought and word and deed. He knows us better than ourselves, better than those closest to us. He knows the parts of us that are hidden to others, and hidden even to ourselves. He knows us beyond how any human could hope to understand another or themselves.  God wants us to know him and invites us to an ever deepening relationship with him and by opening ourselves up and listening to his call he will reveal to us what we are made for and  how best we can serve him, so speak Lord for your servant is listening, Amen

Corrections and N’ree!

My lovely daughter pointed out 2 mistakes in my blog yesterday:

1) that I couldn’t count the cats left when Tom died and

2) I forgot N’ree!

So I have devoted a little paragraph to him here. N’ree- never Henry- he was too cool, too laid back for that! If there was such thing as a rapper cat N’ree would have fitted the bill. N’ree was a wanderer. He was the type of cat whom we never owned- he played and toyed with our affections, kept us under his thumb or claw so to speak. If you think of the old cartoon Top Cat but never an alley cat- too wise for that! Perhaps Bustopher Jones in TS Elliott’s poem- not black and white- but tabby and white- a gentlemanly cat, with an air or superiority about him!

N’ree lowered himself to come into our lives kidding us that we were giving a poor lost cat a home. He played the system and always landed on all 4 paws!

Kevin worked at Derby College at the time and noticed an internal posting from a fellow member of staff saying that they had been looking after a cat that had just turned up one day. Despite numerous local postings around the neighbourhood and vets, the lady had not been able to find the owner. She already had a cat and dog I think so wanted to rehome him. She lived further north in the county, so Kevin collected him after work and brought him home. N’ree was very affectionate but at the same time aloof as only cats can be. He tolerated us, enjoyed a bit of fuss and a warm bed – but his wander lust remained. In the warmer weather he would disappear for 1 or 2 days and then turn up, non-plussed when he felt like it. N’ree shared himself out- everyone knew N’ree as he strolled around, playing with the affection of all the neighbours. He was on to a good thing, and he knew it.

We had him for about a year. The next year came and with it his increased wanderings in the spring- he often went away for 3, even 4 days- but as this was his habit- and was very well-fed and healthy! We didn’t worry- that was N’ree we would say- he owned us, no-one owned him! He was of course neutered- not an entire Tom- but it still didn’t stop him roaming. Then he simply never returned- a week went by, then 2 weeks. After a few days we had posters and leaflets out, notices in the Vets- but that was it- he walked out of our lives one day, much like he sauntered in!

We’ll never know what happened to him- but I like to think he just found a house that offerred a better menu, a better class of establishment – and there we have the guest appearance of that cool cat N’ree.

Love, blessings and Pets- all done in the name of Randomness- which Kieran would have approved of!

Kieran’s birthday came and went. He would have been 18 on Epiphany (January 6th in case you weren’t sure!). My lovely sister and one of my nieces sent us cards that Kieran would have liked in his memory and in tribute to the fact that he would have been reaching a milestone, adulthood. One card had Daleks on it; the other  the Big Bang Theory. Kieran would have approved. I cried when I got up. Aidan was down in London of course- he’d had the day off and was plane spotting at Heathrow Airport. Tara was back in Aberystwyth, her exams starting that week- both were affected in their own ways; we were all affected in our own ways- all thinking of Kieran and such a loss to us.

We try to carry on, and I think we all do a pretty good job of it considering! My eldest went through depression last year but came through with passing the degree he was convinced he’d failed and then getting his grad job as well as his engagement to Beth. They have been through much together with what happened to Kieran and with her significant health problems too. Tara completely turned her life around and has been changed since renewing her commitment and love to God, (and having a lovely boyfriend whom I can see cares for her). Kevin and I have held each other together. We carry on, making the most of the life we have been given- but sometimes it all comes crashing down as we remember anew. Remembering is often humorous. I can chat to Kieran, I can have a moan, we imagine him in certain situations, what he would have said, what he would have done- we can laugh and shed a tear and then carry on.

Most days are as okay as they are ever going to be without Kieran in our lives; other days (and they are fewer) can be unbearable. But having said that we obviously do bear them for we are still here and living. I lean on my husband, my family and God for strength and comfort. I try to take joy in all the good things and attempt to take the sad things in my stride. I am aware that I have a much more heightened awareness to others’ suffering now. Aware how alone they must feel when bereaved or fighting some illness. For their battle is theirs alone. No-one else can feel their grief- we can only imagine others grief and how they are feeling, based on our own experiences. As A Christian I know that God alone fully understands. But when something bad happens, you search for others that have experienced something similar; you search for understanding, desperate to make sense of something where there is no sense. But although it is a journey each of us do on their own; if we are fortunate, others surround us and carry us through. That is what happened to me, to my family. We have stuck together and that has meant understanding each other’s pain and how it is expressed- going through different stages of bereavement at different times, sometimes clashing, other times not- trying to understand- each paddling desperately on their own life raft- reaching out to each other and holding hands across each other’s boats- but still on our own in the dinghy, paddling away, trying to keep afloat, so to speak!

So Kevin and I had Kieran’s birthday off and went for a drive, ending up in a garden centre and a pub for lunch. The day passed and we smiled and we laughed and I cried- but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been I guess.

I went to pieces this Tuesday- a week after Kieran’s 18^{th. T}here is neither rhyme nor reason as to why. I woke up and felt sad, I walked the dogs and the sadness within me grew- the sheer longing to see my son again, the helpless and desperate longing…… I wallowed and cried and sobbed. Poor Kevin phoned me when he’d got to work and I’d seemed okay when he left- and there I was crying down the phone, trying to find a hanky. But I got it together finally and logged on for work and soon improved as I “went into my zone” focusing as I do to the exclusion of everything else.

The day after Kieran’s birthday it was also the 2^rd anniversary of our first dog’s death. Dear Beesley- we’d only had him for a year and he had a sudden ruptured spleen. I remember crying when he died- feeling so guilty that I hadn’t taken him to the vet earlier in the day, thinking he was just a bit off colour …and Kieran comforting me as I cried. I couldn’t look at photos of Beesley for a couple of months without crying. Breeze, our other dog, had to be put to sleep about 5 weeks later. She had come to us at the age of 11 when her owner died and we had her for about 10 months. We were a retirement home for her and when Beesley died, her already dodgy hips seemed to give up altogether over the next few weeks. It was when we went to see Max, with the hope that a younger dog again would perk her up (it failed miserably as she didn’t really like other dogs all that much!) that we were advised what we already knew really- that her time had come.

We  stroked her as she was sent to Rainbow Bridge (doggy heaven I think that is!) and then we took in Max the following weekend. Some may think it quick but I remember being told that the longer you wait, grieving for your pet, another dog waiting for rehoming is going to die. And then about 6 weeks later we fetched Tia.

 When Kieran died, Max and Tia gave us a reason to get up in the morning. Like children, they require structure, routine, food, warmth and love. They give this love back unconditionally and Kieran loved the dogs and KitKat. Kieran was like an overgrown puppy himself and so he and Max had a lot in common and enjoyed some good times. When we returned from France the dogs were restless- Kieran had been part of the pack and I felt sure they were looking for him. When we brought the clothes home from the Undertaker a couple of days later; clothes that Kieran had been wearing when he drowned- his swim shorts and goggles, they sniffed at the bag and it was then as if they knew. They settled, stopped expecting him to come in from his paper round each day and make a fuss of them,  stopped expecting him to walk through the door. I don’t know if I imagined this but it is said that animals are very perceptive and so I felt was the case with Max and Tia.

Max and Tia helped us and continue to help us with their loyalty and naturally giving nature that is part of being a dog. I have also been aware of the devastation and grief that others experience when their much loved furry member of the family dies. I have seen a number of posts and it is the realisation that grief touches us all whether human or animal and for each and every one of us grief is an inescapable part of life.

With humans we expect to see it when we are much older and our parents die or if our partner or spouse dies first, if the “natural expected order” occurs. Some of us experience things in the “wrong order” and for those of us that have pets we may experience it many times since they live much shorter lives.

But grief is unique; it’s like joining a club no-one wants to be in. All part of a club but desperately paddling our own boats in order to survive. Each death we experience will touch us differently, depending on the relationship, how the rest of our life is going at the time, how involved we were in that person’s (or animal’s) life, how long we had known them, how much they depended on us or us on them- so many variants that make the experience of grief shared and yet so lonely. No-one can experience what you experience. We can have similar experiences, but never the same. One thing the counsellor said to me is that in time one blessing I may find is that Kieran never knew real or multiple sadnesses. His Granddad died when he was little and Kieran missed him, but he never had to mourn our deaths.

Having a pet teaches us about loss though. I grew up with a black and white cat called Minksy. She grew old and arthritic and my parents explained to me when she was 16, (I was around 11 I think or thereabouts), that she was suffering and needed to be put to sleep. I didn’t have time to get used to the idea. My dad came home from work the next day and told me we were going to the vets. I held Minksy one last time and then she was put in a box and we went to the vets. Dad literally dropped her off and sat in waiting room with me whilst I sat and sobbed. I remember it being a full waiting room but just sitting there crying, desperately trying to keep a “stiff upper lip” but failing miserably. Then the Vet came out and dad paid the bill, and that was that!

I had 3 hamsters as well as a child. The first was the school hamster, a Chinese hamster, that I looked after in the holidays and then the teacher told me I could keep. Noella was followed by two others-  Horace and Sandy. I remember being upset when they died but it didn’t last any great length of time. I also remember praying for my pets when I first began to pray (when I received a Gideon’s New Testament at the age of 11 and first started awakening to faith).

When Kevin and I married he had a hamster- (I’m sorry I can’t remeber his name). The hamster developed a benign cyst on its head which we, (well- Kevin!), had to empty and apply ointment too! I think the shock of having him do that killed it! But really we started married life as cat people and it is only the last 3 years we have had dogs. Kevin grew up with having German Shepherds; they lived in the country and his dad was a farm foreman- their dog used to go to work on the tractor every day with him and run in the fields as he ploughed them.

Although Kevin had always wanted a dog it wasn’t practical when the children were growing up. As you will be aware, if I’m going to do something I give it a lot of thought and like to do things properly! We started having babies within 2 years of marriage and I worked part time. There was no way we could have cared for a dog properly.

Within a few months of being married we acquired a tiny black and white kitten with a poorly eye. Kevin used to walk to and from work back then and he passed a pet shop every day. For 2 weeks he used to give me a running commentary on the kittens that had arrived in there until there were just 2 kittens left. One was a bully and the other a shy little thing who had a sore eye. So you can guess what happened- Kevin came in with that little black and white kitten, we went to the vets and she almost lost that eye as the pet shop had not treated it. With antibiotics and bathing it cleared up but was always cloudy. We named her Purrdy (2 r’s to denote the “purr” she made). Purrdy used to like to climb the walls and curtain poles and was very loving. Kevin always talks about her as “his cat” because he found her and rescued her. After a couple of months we noticed adverts in the local paper from the Cat Protection League and decided to get another- after all what was one more? We got Tom, (we couldn’t think of a more original name at the time!), and he was a little scrag end of a thing. He was a black kitten that was living in a man’s shed with the stray mother cat whom had given birth to a litter and the CPL had been contacted to rehome them all. Tom had tiny little “peg” teeth that never grew much. He always seemed a little bit wild.

The following year we acquired 2 more kittens. (I was now being regarded as a mad cat woman I think). So we had 4; Ginny and Tammy – sisters. Ginny was Tabby and white and had enormous ears. She was very playful and we had a little jingle we used to sing for her “ Ginny Rin in a spin”. Tammy was shyer and initially in her sister’s shadow but she came out of herself.

Tom died young when I was pregnant with Tara. He went off his food, we took him to the vets who thought he might be depressed at the time and gave him some medication. But he went out in the garden and laid down and died. We found him lying there in a sheltered spot. There is a bit of dark humour with this. I was upset and said to Kevin he had to be buried in the garden – so Kevin dug a big deep hole and placed him in a box and buried him. Then we phoned the vet to inform him that Tom hadn’t been depressed as he’d died! The vet then asked us if he could do a post mortem as he wanted to understand why he had died and would then cremate him for us and wave all vet fees. So Kevin went back out to the garden and dug Tom up. By this time Tom was as stiff as a board and so Kevin drove to the vets with an extremely dead and stiff cat. Turned out that Tom had a cat virus that he would have probably got from his mother as she was a stray and that manifests itself eventually. Nothing could have been done for him.

So I went through the rest of my pregnancy with 2 cats, (I hope you are keeping up)- Tammy and Ginny Rin. On the first day of being home from giving birth to Tara, Ginny came in dragging her tail. Back in those days Kevin only had 3 days paternity leave and then some holiday- so he took Ginny to the vet and she had to have her tail amputated- it’s thought that she was clipped by a car. She came home but was doubly incontinent. Kevin took her back to the vet after a couple of days and the vet catheterised her- within 45 minutes of Kevin coming home and her being catheterised they phoned to say she had died! It was a real shock and I had both post birth baby blues and was traumatised by what had happened to our Ginny Rin, the “big earred bat” as we lovingly referred to her. Turns out she had a slow leak in her bladder from the accident she must have had.

So then there was just Tammy and Purrdy left and 2 children and 1 husband. Purrdy died young too. She got up one day and started to have convulsions down the stairs. She was in Intensive care for 3 days as they think she had picked up poison and she went into liver failure. We had to make the decision to have her put down when the vet said she was now suffering. By now I had had Kieran and we went to see another little black kitten. We chose him because rather than back away from the children he was curious and inquisitive and seemed very friendly. So Tammy and Timmy are the cats that the children remembered really. Tammy died at the age of 17. She went off her back legs and her frailty was evident and she then stopped eating so we knew it was time to put her to sleep. I sat at the vets with her in my arms, thin and frail, and we said our goodbyes. Our oldest cat; and I think I cried the most for her because she had been with us the longest.

Timmy died of a stroke. Next door informed us he was lying under their parked car on their drive. He didn’t seem able to move. Kevin took him to the vets and he was kept in intensive care for 48 hours to see if he would recover. Then they told us he would not and we had to have him put to sleep. A few weeks before a little black and white kitten had started appearing at our front door and inviting himself in. I discouraged him as he clearly belonged to others but occasionally gave him a treat. He seemed to spend his time going between our house and an elderly couple opposite to us. We thought that he belonged to them. One day after Timmy had died he shot inside out house and up to our bedroom, shaking. Kevin looked at him and his eye was a complete mess. He wrapped him up and took him across the road to the neighbours whom we though he belonged to. He didn’t belong to them at all- it turns out he belonged to others who had moved to the other side of the village and weren’t bothered about him. Kevin took him to the vet and explained he wasn’t ours. The vet said that they would contact the RSPCA but the local branch was closed on this particular day. Our vet said that all he could do was keep him sedated and control his pain because hthe RSPCA used their own vet and so he couldn’t operate. Kevin came home and I was in tears….. so we told the vets that we would have him, to operate as soon as possible and we would pay the fee- in instalments if they’d let us! Which they did and he was home with us the next day with a collar on and a stitched up eye socket…. and this is KitKat.

He is loyal, loving, a scallywag and a devil for catching and beheading mice and other such creatures! He rules the roost and everyone loves him as he shares himself around- trying out all laps in a room. He saunters in front of the dogs, rolls over in submissive position to them and then bats a tail or two. Tia licks him and Max is puzzled by him! We have also had a rabbit who died of myxamatosis and for whom Aidan at the time was very upset. And we had 3 guinea pigs together, 2 of whom met a tragic end and Kieran was upset.

Anyway- God, my husband, children, sister and family and friends make this journey more bearable; but sometimes the grief and shock submerges you beneath the waves (how apt since Kieran drowned in the waves). The sea becomes calmer and then a storm comes from nowhere and you feel yourself fighting to keep afloat. But, as I’ve said before, it is getting less and I think now that this will always be the pattern of things. And it reflects the pattern and journey of our lives. How can we count our blessings if all of life were smooth and untroubled? For blessings would not be recognised then! So with the pain and grief and mourning and longing there comes a new awareness and, in a way, you are reborn- for you are completely and irrevocably changed by each experience.

I hope it makes me more understanding and empathetic of others and I hope that from this awful thing, this awful death of my child, growth will continue to come from it and others will be helped in some way. I thank God for those I love and those who love me each and every day. And I thank God for Kieran and the legacy he left of goodness, gentleness, kindness, randomness, funniness and the blessings he gave. And I thank God that through my faith in Lord Jesus Christ I know that Kieran is in Heaven, as will I be one day- it is not the end- and that gives me hope.

 

Christmas and New Year Blessings

So another Christmas and New Year without our youngest. However I want this post to be more optimistic really so am actually writing it when I don’t feel a compulsion to do so. You’ll be aware that when my feelings overspill I have to write, to get out onto paper what I am experiencing. However my concern has been that this will always be perceived as negative, that it’s Dawn going on again, that no-one ever wants to read it as I end up depressing everyone.

 I’m sorry that there are some miserable bits but I try to explain the whole thing, how things set me off crying but how things are getting more manageable. I continue to miss Kieran every day and know that I will never be whole again, that a sadness will always be there… but I am able to laugh more and be “normal” much of the time.

I cried of course at New Year’s Eve- but then I have never liked it really- ever since a child- feeling sad that another year has gone by and wondering what the New Year will hold. I cried that a whole year had passed without Kieran being alive in it. I cried because I’m now in another year without my son.

This morning I was not positive, I cried when Kevin took the dogs for a walk; my thinking went along the lines of all the things I had failed to do in 2014- failed to lose weight and had allowed myself to become middle aged and hefty; failed to have any will power in controlling my comfort eating; failed to keep up the gym in the last 6 weeks because I can’t bear the sight of myself in gym clothes; failed to do my uni work such that it will now take a miracle to get it all done before the deadline; failed to keep motivated; failed in concentrating more… but of course all these thoughts were leading in one direction- my ultimate failure in keeping my youngest safe, my ultimate failure in letting my son die.

I cried because I worry about my oldest, I cried because I worry about my middleun (always my middleun- there will always be 3 in my heart). I cried because I should be a better wife, a better friend, a better employee, a better sister, a better daughter, etc, etc- woe was me- feeling sorry for myself!

I cried as I took the Christmas Tree down- took the 5 knitted Tardis’s off that dearest Pat had knitted for us last year at work (we will always be 5 you see- that was our family unit), cried as I took off the simple nativity scenes that Kevin brought back from Germany that first time when he went with Aidan in that first year; cried as I bubble wrapped the baubles, the Nativity figures…. and yet it was different this year- last Christmas I could not abide any frivolity- that first Christmas without Kieran had been very simple.

 This year as I cried I noticed that I needed another strand of silver tinsel next year and one more set of silver lights for the tree- it needed just a little more glitter. The cuddly snowman had come down from the loft with the decorations and I had kept it out- in the back bedroom. Max had taken a liking to it as soon as his eyes clapped on it- his tail had wagged and he went to take it out of my hands expectantly- but I had rescued it and kept it out of his way- not wanting him to completely destroy it within half an hour! So when I think- tears but little glimmers that show it was better this year.

I cooked Christmas -just for the 4 of us- Kevin, his mum, Tara and me- it was enough; to do more would have been overwhelming! (I feel such a lightweight these days) But Christmas day was fine actually- a lie in until time for Church (for we had been to Midnight Communion on Christmas Eve), Tara and I playing along to the Carols in Church on Christmas morn. We opened just a few presents before dinner but the bulk was afterwards… and then we sat and watched TV. Moments of snatched tears when it was just Kevin by my side- but not so that they were noticed -and they soon went.

Boxing Day came and with it brought Aidan and Beth in the afternoon and a buffet tea (how I am heartily sick of buffet food now!). They went home on the 27^th and Tara and I went to fetch Alex from Telford- he had travelled from his home in North Wales. We all then went down to Essex for my aunt’s 70^th birthday. I’m pleased we did that- we were invited to something last year- but it was too soon, too overwhelming and the weekend before Kieran’s birthday so we didn’t go. This was the first time I had seen cousins since Kieran’s funeral- and it was so lovely and I realised how wonderful my family is.

Alex went home after Church on 28^th (he is a brilliant musician and we were without an organist so dear Alex played) and then it was back to work on 29^th.

So I realised that not only had we survived Christmas this year but that it was better than the last when we were so lost and couldn’t think what to do.

Whilst I have always wanted to do my best and never settled for less, this last year I have had trouble in caring as much and each thing I have perceived as a failure has meant a downward spiral really and a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 However I am trying to be objective and take on board things people tell me- to be kind to myself. I am grateful to put one foot in front of the other, to be able to work and keep my mind occupied, to be able to face the weekends now without going to pieces as we did in the early days when the structure from the working week disappeared. I changed my career this year whilst working for the same very supportive company, I seem to be doing a reasonable job (still got my bonus and also had accolade from a couple of managers who were grateful for my ongoing help, and managed to pick up a few “good jobs” done along the way. I’m now Global ERA Lead dealing with HR issues with the most senior people in the company (bit scary since I don’t know what I’m doing still but shhh don’t tell anyone as they all seem to think I do!), I’m the UK Health and Wellbeing ERA lead (need to work that one out- one of these roles where you need to work it out for yourself) plus of course the regular Employee Relations stuff. So work wise I seem to have been quite successful (however you measure success)… but I know I am not 100%- my mind is sluggish and unfocused compared to how it used to work quickly (perhaps it’s my age) but I think it’s really me being hard on myself as I’ve always been.

Kevin and I went on a number of breaks and had a nice time- having targets, things planned to look forward to is the key. This year there will be less of them as we’re lacking in money for one reason or another, but just days out, planned and to look forward to, are vitally important- we need to know that there are points on “the journey” to look forward to. In fact this is probably more important for Kevin than me even. He focuses on our next trip, planning, finding out everything- and I’m happy for him to do that. The two breaks we had in the summer I couldn’t get excited about until probably the day or two before. I think Kevin found that hard- he was enthusiastic weeks ahead. Perhaps it was the first summer with no children with us- summer holidays taken in “term time”- underlining the fact that we had no children at home when then should have been one with us still for at least another couple of years. (Although that said- Aidan opted out of coming with us when he was 16 as he didn’t like the walks we always did and preferred to go with his girlfriend and her parents). Tara has always been quite happy to come with us though and of course Kieran was- he was always happy to just be with us.

Our anniversary break however was different; we have been used to having breaks away at that time of year without the children- so it felt “more normal”. I got very excited about it and it started to feel very Christmassy when we came out of the underground station in Leipzig to gentle snowflakes.

So the way to cope is to plan little things (looking forward to going to Aidan and Beth’s next weekend and seeing “The Railway Children” on stage at Kings Cross (tickets they bought us for our anniversary), then in February going across to Aberystwyth with the dogs to see Tara (and Alex of course).

So motto is – get out of bed, keep the routine, work for structure and distraction, leisure with plans so that days don’t become a blur or simply to be endured, count my blessings always and try to focus on these- for when blessings are counted you realise how good it is to be alive and how important it is to live the life you have been given in the best way possible.

So rather than “Happy New Year”- for new year’s then are bound to disappoint- life is a mixture- I prefer to say have a peaceful year and one where you can count your blessings and thank God (if you believe). Peace be with us all. Amen