“Hope”- Today’s Sermon by me (based on Mark 13:1-8 and psalm 16)

I started today’s sermon on Friday evening but gave up and setled down to complete it yesterday afternoon. A night’s sleep, I thought, and perhaps I would know more about what I needed to say by yesterday afternoon when I had set some time aside to complete it ahead of Morning Worship today.

The lectionary readings, the hymns that had been chosen prior to Friday, suddenly seemed to bring all that I needed to say together in the wake of the murders in France on Friday night. The sermon seemed to move quite a few people today so I thought I’d post it here, for it touches on our hope in God through terror, trauma and devastating experiences. So here goes;

“With growing up in London, the Tower of London was just a short tube ride away and often the place of school trips. It was fascinating to walk around and see where history, admittedly not always pleasant , took place.

Since that time I have been fortunate enough to travel and see places such as Rome. I have stood in the midst of the Colosseum imagining where gladiators and lions had gone before; seen literally ancient Roman ruins seeming on many street corners. I’ve been in the Sistine chapel and inside Buckingham Palace.

It is an amazing feeling to walk in the paths where kings, queens and popes walked centuries ago.It is a wonderful thing to walk around a medieval village weaving along the narrow streets and stumbling on the cobble stones knowing that people 5 or 6 or 7 centuries ago went about their daily tasks along those streets and were born, lived and died in those houses.We think that places that have stood for so long will be indestructible.

A place called Dura Europas housed the world’s oldest known Christian church, a beautifully decorated synagogue, and many other temples and Roman-era buildings. It has been destroyed by Isis.

The Christian Mar Elian Monastery was dedicated to a 4^th century saint and a place where many Christians took sanctuary. It was bulldozed and destroyed by ISIS.

Mar Behnam Monastery was established in the 4^th century and had been maintained by catholic monks since the 1800s. It survived the Mongol hordes in the 1200s- but fell to ISIS this year. The extremists used explosives to destroy the saint’s tomb and its elaborate carvings and decorations.

There are many more ancient and cultural sites that have been destroyed by ISIS. Buildings and places that have withstood centuries of history to eventually succumb to a brutality.

St. Mark’s Gospel locates us in Jerusalem, near the time of Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus and his disciples were leaving one of the most magnificent structures in biblical times. The disciples couldn’t help but marvel at its majesty.

The temple had been torn down twice by invading armies. King Herod undertook the rebuilding, expansion and beautification of the temple at about the time of Jesus’ birth. It was completed about the time the incident recorded took place. It was acknowledged as one of the most beautiful building complexes in the entire world.

There were gates and arches, tunnels and stairways, the stones were gleaming white with extensive gold overlay. The outside was decorated with marble walls and columns. The eastern side of the temple was plated with gold and the ten gates into the temple were covered in gold or silver. It must have been quite a sight as the gleaming white marble and stunning metal work flashed in the Middle Eastern sun. For the people of Jerusalem the temple was a sign of the glory that would return to Israel.

The disciples were obviously impressed and overawed at the sight of this remarkable building. “Look Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!” (v. 1).

What Jesus said next almost amounted to sacrilege.

“Do you see these great buildings?” he said. “There will not be left here one stone on another, which will not be thrown down” (v. 2).

What a thing to say! This magnificent house of God would be destroyed! This was completely unthinkable. The disciples thought that the temple would stand forever but it would be just a few short years and the Romans would strip the temple of all its precious metals and tear it down stone by stone, never to be rebuilt again.

If that isn’t bad enough, Jesus goes on to talk about the end of all things.

He warns the disciples,

“When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, don’t be troubled. For those must happen, but the end is not yet.  For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes in various places. There will be famines and troubles. These things are the beginning of birth pains” (Mark 13:7-8).

How unfortunately apt when we turn our minds to what happened on Friday night in Paris. A free and liberated and fortunate people such as the French, going about their usual business, at liberty to enjoy themselves at a rock concert, a football match and eating out. Just normal everyday people massacred, for what? The freedoms we hold dear under attack by pure evil. Paris shootings and bombings, Beirut suicide bombers, a suspected bomb on a plane killing so many Russian people 2 weeks ago , London tube and bus bombings, New York Twin Towers and the other flight brought down- all brought down in the name only of evil.

All that we take for granted can disappear in a moment. Scary, isn’t it? Things that we think are so permanent in our lives, in actual fact, are only temporary. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like without those things and those people that give us the sense of security and permanency. Our freedom, our democracy, our sense of safety, the things we own, our wealth whether material or rich in other ways, our accomplishments, all the things we think are important really are very temporary. In a moment they can be taken away and ‘the rug is pulled out from under us’ so to say. We discover that the things that we thought were so solid and important are not the things that we can really rely on.

It is then that faith in Jesus and the assurance, comfort and the hope that he offers is all that matters. The promises of Jesus that we have heard a thousand times before suddenly take on new meaning and importance as all the other things that we once thought important are relegated to the side-lines. Our God and his promises of love, strength to endure, and the joy of eternal life in the end are all that we need.

When Jesus talks about what will happen in the future, I don’t believe for one minute that he is telling us horror stories to terrify us like children huddled around a campfire listening to scary ghost stories. He is simply pointing out what we so easily forget. Our journey through life in this world is short, we are travellers passing through, and that our true home is in heaven and our true wealth is knowing Jesus’ love and care for each of us.

So how do we take heart in these times that can seem so evil, or in these times in which we have suffered great loss or trauma in our own lives? We have to try to focus on the fact that God is bigger than any disappointment or pain. God doesn’t watch our pain, He enters into our pain- not collectively but individually when we feel so alone with it- he is there with us, suffering with us but carrying us when we feel we don’t know how to go on. He was with each person that died on Friday night in Paris; he was there and still is there with the injured and the frightened. He is there amongst the relatives, the friends, those weeping and mourning. He is with each one of us today sharing our tears. He doesn’t watch his children suffer and provide comfort from a distance. He stands right there in the midst of our fire. When we hurt, God hurts.

God is good; his light is brighter than any darkness for he is the light that shines in the darkness. He can handle any doubts of His goodness. It is impossible to go through a tragedy, betrayal or trauma and not have the thought pop up, “if God is good why did he allow this to happen?” God does not cause pain and suffering but when it happens he works through it. You see kindness, solidarity, compassion; in the darkest moments when evil acts are committed you see the triumph of others compassion come through. Suffering builds compassion- the ability to enter into someone else’s pain like it is your own. Jesus had compassion on the sick and healed them.

We should cry it out, scream it out. God is not offended by our emotions. Some pain or grief is quickly healed, some grief or pain lingers for years and some grief or pain seems to go with us for a lifetime. We will never forget the people we have lost. We may never forget how we felt the day the bad news came or the trauma occurred. God heals our memories. He brings comfort to them. He is our Healer. He is the world’s healer.

God’s plan is good even when it doesn’t feel like it. Some things we will never understand until we go to Heaven.

And that is our hope in God- that all things must pass away from this world but our future is with God in Heaven where there are no more tears or mourning.

Lastly Psalm 16 that we heard today is one of confidence and trust. In this psalm we see David as the faithful servant and the God as the Faithful Lord. This psalm begins with David being a refugee and being hunted, to having all things and ending up as God’s heir. In it we see God gives us stability, guidance and resurrection. In summary the psalm says, ―My real hope is not in anything I have, it‘s not in the friends I have, any external security. My real trust and hope is in God.

And so I’ll finish today with the words of our psalm again;

 ¹ Keep me safe, my God,
    for in you I take refuge.

² I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
    apart from you I have no good thing.”
³ I say of the holy people who are in the land,
    “They are the noble ones in whom is all my delight.”
⁴ Those who run after other gods will suffer more and more.
    I will not pour out libations of blood to such gods
    or take up their names on my lips.

⁵ Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure.
⁶ The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    surely I have a delightful inheritance.
⁷ I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
⁸ I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

⁹ Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest secure,
¹⁰ because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
    nor will you let your faithful^[b] one see decay.
¹¹ You make known to me the path of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour

Amen”

So we went back to France…..

It was a long journey- three and a half hours each way in a day. Add in stops and the day was quite arduous – that was the long journey back to the place where Kieran died.

The previous day, our first full day in France, we had all gone to the local Anglican Church. It was full of ex-pats, who were all so very friendly and welcoming and the service was just what I think we all needed-  the day before we went to Messanges.

I’ve left it too long this time to write about the service in any detail. I find that the day my boy died- the 24th July- is just the start of what seems to be a month of getting through, because of various events and memories that followed associated with his death. My memory fails me as to the content of the sermon and prayers but I do remember it seeming to be made for our family at that point in time… and indeed Aidan commenting to me that it was just what we all needed.

 

Anyway,as I said, it was a long journey- (we had purposely stopped well away and completely inland from Messanges) – but as we got to within just a few miles of Messanges, we started to recognise some road signs and landmarks we had passed previously, at a time  2 years ago when the holiday before us held  hope and expectations of an enjoybale and relaxing family time.

Either on the way, or on the way back, we saw the signs to Dax – where we had gone to the funeral directors; Souston, where Kieran’s body came ashore and we went to the mortuary to identify him.  Signs on the road and non-descript roads travelled held so much meaning and invoked such feelings. I told myself it was a different time, I was a different person, I was irevocably changed from before. But it was strange. Feelings bubbling away, memories……

We parked the cars at the campsite. Of course there were 7 of us this time. Before it had been Kevin, Tara, Kieran and me parking the car; this followed by my sister and brother-in-law, Den and John, joining Kevin, Tara and me- after Kieran had drowned.So this time out of the 7 of us drawing up in 2 cars, just 3 had been to this beautiful yet shocking place before.

We had to walk a little way in the camp site. I donned my sunglasses as the tears at this point began to fall. The bubbling up had overspilled and big fat tears were blobbing down onto my cheaks. I felt dread, a heavy heart, the bubbling had come to the fore.But Kevin held my hand firmly. We do not need to speak, he and I, for each knows what we cannot verbalise; united in a son lost to us forever and tortuously missed.  I just stayed with Kevin, trying to just let the tears roll under the sunglasses, because for Aidan and Sheila (and of course Alex and Beth) this was a new experience, something they had to face, wanted to face to try to understand and put into context the loss of a brother and grandson. There is no understanding of course. It remains a mystery why these things happen. Why so many were in the sea that day, further out too, but it was my boy who got caught in a wave and rip current. (We think of course, the consensus of opinion- for what else can it be? But we will never know what happened for no-one saw and my boy just disappeared).

We turned left to take the main path between the sand dunes. Rest benches had been added along the route which I think were new. We reached the point where you looked down on the beach and across the sea. The place by the Lifeguard station and the slope down onto the beach.

The sea was sparkling in the midday sun, the sand was as golden as ever, and there were families down on the beach and in the sea. Normal holiday makers enjoying themselves, just as we had been.

I think we all got upset, I remember hugging my eldest as he cried for his brother. But in a way, looking out to the sea I felt a reassurance that we would have done things exactly the same again, had this not happened. There was nothing to scream out that this was dangerous, nothing that made me think “what were we thinking of going down there”. And it reassured once again that it was a tragic accident as the coroner later stated.

We ate lunch at the campsite and toasted our boy’s life, and then we set off again back on the long journey back to the Gite.

Did it help me? Well it didn’t not help if you see what I mean and it made me realise that we had got through it, another tick for having faced up to something hard.

The 27th July

We went back to France a month before the 2 years that Kieran died on holiday. On the 24^th July this year, Kevin decided he wanted to work, wanted to keep busy. I had the day off as did Tara. Even though she no longer celebrates her birthday on this day but has it a week later, I still know it’s her birthday of course- nothing man-made can change that fact.

So on the two year anniversary that Kieran died it was my daughter’s 21^st birthday. 21 years since our beautiful Tara lit up our lives, our only daughter and middle child- always a middle child with two brothers- and indeed she continues to consider that she has 2 brothers, just as I consider I have two sons. Anyway we pottered about, went to Conkers again- but it rained. We took some flowers and rebelled by placing them where Kieran’s ashes lie rather than neatly to one side in a vase (I moved them 2 days later to conform – you know me- can’t rebel for long!)

On  Monday the 27^th I worked- but I was far more affected by this day than the actual 24^th. Fortunately I was working at home and wrote down my thoughts before I started, having been having a cry walking Max. It was raining again, the weather was unseasonal and autumnal. The storms in grief and bereavement are sometime sudden and seemingly come from nowhere. On 22^nd July it was the William Allitt Award Evening. Once again amongst the awards was the shield we had donated; the “Kieran Knight Award for Kindness and Compassion”. As we were going out of the door, Kevin turned a terrible shocked white colour and didn’t want to come- it was not how he remembered Kieran he said. Tara and I went but I was concerned about Kevin who had had some grief reaction. I felt selfish, I had just assumed, that like last year we would go along and see the award given in Kieran’s memory to this year’s deserving child. Something I got some comfort from, Kevin didn’t this time.

More often storms build up, the weather gets hotter, more humid, more oppressive until the thunder claps, the lightening flashes across the sky and the heavens open, clearing it all out for a calmer day the next; storms as such occur in France, storms as such that brought Kieran back, storms hitting me on the 27^th as I wrote.

The day before on the 26^th I had looked at the remembrance book in church-open for the coming week. “Kieran Sean William Knight”, entered in there- date of death 27^th July. You see whilst we all know he died on 24^th, we were told that the date on his death certificate had to be 27^th,  the day his body was found and he was certified as dead by a doctor. 27^{th –}the day Kieran’s body was found following 3 days of waiting.

I’ve noticed that initially my writings were immediate. The need to write things down was a way of pouring out my feelings; initially on Facebook (which I’m rather embarrassed about really), and then in the blog (which is really just a pretend blog because I don’t do it properly). As time has gone on it is more reflective.  The need to write is still there but much less often, perhaps more considered. It is now a way of unpicking and reflecting on my journey. But occasionally I still need to outpour as it happens which was the case on the 27^th. But I did not post it, merely wrote my feelings down.

This year it has felt that when you get to 2 years people don’t expect you to still be grieving. It’s time to move on, get on with it.  Society expects the scars, yes to be there, but to get on- for after all, hasn’t everyone suffered a massive loss in their lives, whether through death, estrangement, loss of job or relationships, etc?

It’s been noticeable this year that there were fewer texts, people gradually drift away, either forgetting themselves- after all- it affected them only superficially;  or thinking that you are okay now and there is no need to check.

And I am the same with others, after all, what more can be said? “Hope you are okay”, “thinking of you”, “praying for you”, etc. How I agonise over the most suitable text to send. You’d think I’d know now wouldn’t you?

Those around are moving on and so are we- of course we are- but we move on with Kieran in our hearts every second or every day as my daughter put in her blog on her birthday/ Kieran’s death day.

The last month we have gone back to Messanges, seen someone else die (and be resuscitated- another post to write) and there is a feeling that I am doing well. Which I am. But the drums are beating, less audible, further away, the storm is brewing, less obvious – and then wham it hits you, caught in the thunderstorm, stupidly unprepared, thinking another year and I had got used to this grief lark!

The 27^th was another day, I wrote,  full of memories- but I think the main feeling that I remember  that day 2 years ago,was the loss of hope (of the earthly kind anyway). Although I knew as time passed on 24^th that Kieran was dead and the days that followed we were waiting for news of his body being washed up somewhere. When he was actually found, it was final, the end, the reality.

The 27^th held memories of identifying him (I think Kevin protects me from that). He could not identify him by looking at him and Tara and I were held back- both wanting to see but Kevin saying no- it does not look like him and the young policeman in haltering English and visibly moved saying to Tara he would not if it was his brother.

When I wrote this on 27^th my mum told me she’d lit a candle for Kieran the day before and cried again;  that they had remembered the date at her church and had put him on the annual prayers for the bereaved. Mum said she sat by the statue of the Virgin Mary (I think her long lost Catholicism is returning in what is a very high Anglo Catholic church).

On Sunday the day before I wandered round to move the flowers from Kieran’s patch of grass and put them by the side again- and cried in the rain- but had to then get my act together to go back into the coffee lounge and lead the after service prayers.

I’m okay again now- but the 27^th I snivelled my way through the morning. The month of memories starting on the 24^th builds up. You think you are coping, dealing with it, better than last year, but as one date and memory follows another, the storm clouds gather until the clap of thunder from your soul and the resulting rain pouring from your eyes is inevitable.

We miss you Kieran, we love you Kieran and whilst we may be getting on, you live forever in our minds- the hollowness and pain in my heart will always be there my love.

Just an Ordinary Family leading an Ordinary Life; a few more reflections on life’s journey

Reading Tara’s blog about why she is supporting the Royal National Lifeboat institute brought it home to me again….We were just an ordinary family having an ordinary holiday, celebrating a birthday and looking forward to 10 days in the sun before travelling  up France again. Just an ordinary family, expecting things to follow their normal course. Aidan going back for his 4^th and final final year at uni, Tara going into her 2^nd year and Kieran due to start college. Aidan at home whilst his now fiancée was about to undergo major heart surgery… but an ordinary family leading an ordinary life.  Things happen to other people don’t they? Tragedies happen in other families? These things don’t happen to you.

I think back to those days now and much of it is a blur. I remember completely shutting down. The slowness I think to start with, the reason for my non reaction to Kieran’s disappearance was that I didn’t believe it in those first few minutes. I thought as Kevin didn’t have his glasses on Kieran had just gone up the shore a bit. I couldn’t understand that he had just disappeared. I couldn’t understand the panic, It didn’t make any sense to me, it was all a mistake. Then as it started to dawn on me that Kieran really was missing in the sea I went numb.

You hope, you continue hoping for I don’t know 20 minutes. Then I remember my mind telling me that if he was pulled from the sea now and they managed to resuscitate him he would be brain damaged- too long without oxygen. 30 minutes, 40 minutes, an hour and you realise that all hope has gone but are still not believing what has happened. Your brain can’t catch up with the situation. It takes a long time for it to sink in. I still can’t make sense of what happened.

One minute my youngest son was alive, oh so alive, bursting with enthusiasm for the sea, the waves, the holiday, being with his dad in the sea, looking forward to a meal out for Tara’s birthday that evening- all gone in an instant. My mind was dull. My poor Tara had to cope with a useless mother, a mother that was just not comprehending what was happening, unfolding around her. A mother that was realising that one of the children she always held within her heart, had been ripped away from her, no warning, no good byes. Gone and as unbelieving gave way to realisation, she shut down, not consciously but I guess the body and mind’s protection system was kicking in. Her mind dull and shocked as she stood, just stood, waiting for what seemed a very long time. Her daughter took on the parent role as her husband had turned into action man, running around, getting help up the beach. The mother who was usually calm, trained in emergency situations, was a frozen block, unable to think or act in any useful way. Later that mother cried and cried and shouted and raged at God and cried and cried some more but at least so much crying meant that there was some respite in sleep before waking and crying again.

Just the day before Kieran died we heard the news that our friend had been diagnosed with cancer- again out of the blue- no symptoms other than an annoying lump. She is now having her second lot of chemo, having undergone 2 lots of surgery. I think she said that in under  2 years this is her 7^th cancer.

My lovely brother-in-law too who drove us around in France with my darling sister- was diagnosed later that year and surgery and radiotherapy have followed.

A colleague at work has recently been diagnosed with a brain tumour and I’ve just done a home visit in my HR capacity to someone my age to ensure all their pension forms are signed, for they have a prognosis of just 6 months with cancer at the base of the brain/ top of the spine.

People often ask me if I ever missed being a “proper nurse” as Kieran would rub in! He knew how to wind me up- as I would declare that I was a proper nurse, I just no longer worked on wards but looking after people in the workplace. He’d grin and say “I know….but still…!”

I never did miss the wards and still don’t really. I did my stint as a staff nurse, senior staff nurse, etc. I had my “exciting times” on male orthopaedics with all the interesting injuries and having two intensive care beds where I’d enjoy my shift in “specialling” those patients. I loved my time with the chronically sick and terminally ill, sitting with the dying, those I had nursed and performing those last offices for them when they had slipped away.

There was Casualty of course, and the cot deaths, one of which was on Christmas day. I remember removing the tinsel around my hat as we knew what was coming in and at 20 years old being left with the parents as they mourned their 10 month old baby, lying there so still. I remember my management stint on gynaecology at the age of 21, being with a woman who gave birth onto a bedpan to a 20 week baby whom she had made the difficult and upsetting decision to terminate due to significant medical reasons and taking that baby away and looking, just looking at it. So very very tiny and whilst obviously there was something wrong with it- teeny weeny hands so perfectly formed.

I gave that type of nursing up when I had Aidan. I no longer wanted to work weekends or bank holidays. I wanted something to fit in with my new family.

It’s odd really. I wasn’t a Christian back then… well only in the sense that if asked my religion I would say C of E and always believed in God but never went to Church. When you nurse those that are dying, when they die, you know they have gone. I don’t think it is like sleep because at the moment of death I have always known that their soul has gone, the body becomes the shell that has carried that person but they are no longer there. And I always knew back then that couldn’t be the end. So whilst not a practicing Christian, I always believed that there was more, that wasn’t the end of the story. That life was such a miracle, that creation was so wonderous that it could never be by accident, by a mere concoction of gases. There might have been a “big bang” but there was always a much bigger God behind it.

I went to a diocesan church thingy day the other week. Something I was invited to. There were about 7 of us plus 3 clergy and a retired Bishop. The format of the day was a Quiet reflective day. A day where we started off with morning prayer, had mid day communion and finished with a short afternoon prayer. At each of these the Bishop spoke to us as a group. The first talk was about Mary saying yes to God. He went onto speak about how when she said Yes to God she just trusted and that she did something most wondrous- that she would carry our Saviour Jesus Christ but would have had no idea that she would see her son die. He went on about how no mother should have to experience the death of her child! I couldn’t believe it. I was sitting in a choir pew with a very few people and the Bishop had no idea. Basically it was about saying yes to God but never knowing what that might bring.

The Vicar that had invited me came up to me afterwards and asked me if I was okay- she was mortified for she knew my story. I was okay, it was one of these sermons that hit the spot, gosh it felt like a sword in my heart again… but it was okay… it wouldn’t stop me saying yes to what God wants me for. When you have experienced your child die and realised that with your whole heart and soul you would have died in his place so that he might live… and you get through this experience somehow, not in your own strength but that of God’s (how could I possibly get through something so awful without God’s love and strength, directly and indirectly through others), you sort of lose your fear. The realisation that Christ was tortured and died on the Cross in order that we can be reconciled to God in eternity hits home afresh too. The realisation that God loved the world so much that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. (John 3:16-17) and that if I was the only one alive in this world, Jesus would still have gone to that cross in my place.

Anyway- I don’t know how I ended up here! Writing about this! I was intending to reflect on our coming holiday to France and two forthcoming weddings.

I’ve just started to have CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). It’s basically about changing my behaviours as a response to my thoughts. So you will remember that tea and cake featured a lot in my life. From barely eating in those first 3 days to being made to eat and finding that it brought some comfort, something to do whilst in France. It gave others something to give me to comfort me when I came back, and I welcomed it. However food has become my crutch. I am a far more anxious person than I used to be. Not necessarily outwardly, but inwardly. And when I find myself getting anxious and agitated at times during the day I have to eat something. I think if I was a smoker I’d be drawing on a cigarette, or if a drinker, pouring out a glass of wine to get me through, to relax me, to take my focus away from my anxiety.

Anyway it became a crutch I think- hence the 3 stone in weight I put on! I felt silly and guilty and a failure for not being able to control myself,  which of course further intensified my feelings of anxiety, self loathing and failure- which always led back to Kieran and my inability to protect him, for him to die in the sea without me having the chance to save him.

So I contacted our counselling service at work and got a man who uses a psychoanalytical approach. He didn’t say much- it was telephone counselling.. and I felt that I had to keep talking, even when I didn’t want to, as I didn’t get much back! I’d been clear with this counselling that I didn’t need to be listened to, I needed someone to help me help myself, give me strategies to stop eating! But work don’t offer CBT, so I got someone with a “psychoanalytical” approach. To be fair there were things he picked up- words I used like “self sabotage”, “undeserving”, “failure”, etc…. and he did say that I needed to find another crutch- that food as my crutch couldn’t be solved by me simply throwing away the crutch and falling over, for then I would need two crutches. This made sense to me… but I still didn’t know what I needed to do with myself to sort myself out.

So the doctor (who I went to about my foot) picked up on the fact that it was still early days as far as losing Kieran was concerned and felt I needed CBT to help me. So now I am having it face to face at my local clinic- and it’s quite good actually- and quite hard work to change how I interpret/ behave with certain thoughts that pop in my head.

The amazing thing is that since I actually reached out and asked for help, despite feeling silly about it (far more people worse off and messed up than me!), I’ve stopped reaching for the food (and no I’m not reaching for the wine instead…. unless it’s Eurovision in which case I need a bottle to get me through the mandatory ordeal).

The thing about the CBT last time is that I spoke of how I was feeling about going back to France. I owned up to feeling scared, very scared. So we did a CBT approach and she asked me what I was specifically scared about and what I thought the worse was that could happen. And I realised and verablised that it was going back emotionally to that place nearly 2 years ago, reliving the memories when I looked at the beach, and being catapulted backwards. That I don’t want to go through the experience again. That I would be so very distressed and that this time I might not bounce back or recover -that I would be back in that place, experiencing it all again like groundhog day!

We of course are staying 3 hours away from Messanges and not by the coast and are only going back to see the place on one day, almost as soon as we get there so it doesn’t hang over the whole holiday.

Anyway she said to me that this wouldn’t happen as whilst I would naturally get very upset, I would not be back in the same place as not quite 2 years before as everything had moved forward since then, including me and my emotions. And that helped because of course she is right.

Life has moved on. With that moving forwards though Kieran is missed more than ever for he is not part of this life we are all living any more.

It has been a time of celebration. Aidan and Beth of course got engaged just over a year ago and are all set to marry in May next year. And now Tara and Alex have got engaged and are marrying at Easter. Seeing my children happy but both expressing things to me about Kieran not being there and knowing how they feel that, at the most important and blessed days of their lives, sharing their love with their soon to be wife/husband by publicly declaring and promising in front of friends and family… but that their brother is missing from it all. I try to look at it this way- that they are making their vows in front of God, who is all seeing and all knowing. And Kieran is with God and so it will seem as though Kieran’s spirit is there somehow. Both are marrying in the church they all grew up in, that Kieran was baptised in and whose ashes are buried in the garden of remembrance just outside.

So it is a time for joy, plenty of tears perhaps but joy. Kieran was promoted to glory in Heaven and needs no worrying about now for he is surrounded by the perfect love of God and the angels. Nothing can ever touch him again and one day we will see him again. And joy for my children here that they have found love and blessings.

And to all a Celtic Blessing:

Insensitivity and Sensitivity

The other evening I was taken aback. Caught out as it were, completely wrong footed. I had gone to a Diocesan meeting. Usually things are done at deanery level-I’m on the Deanery synod so used to meeting with others from local churches in the surrounding area, but the diocese covers the wider Derbyshire. Anyway I met two people with whom I had known quite well over many years but they moved away about 4 years ago. I last saw them at Kieran’s funeral and have exchanged texts perhaps a handful of times since then.

The first thing that struck me was that the one half of the couple, whilst very caring was asking me how I was and how some days must still be very difficult, etc. I found that quite hard to start with in a strange way. I think that it is because although I am still grieving, and let’s face it, always will be, I am not in the same place I was when I was at Kieran’s funeral. It made me realise that I am not that person anymore.

I was one Dawn before Kieran died- my way of measuring and sense checking things: before Kieran’s death and after Kieran’s death. But I am an evolving Dawn- as my journey continues I discover new things all the time about myself, about God, about others. In a way my eyes and soul are more open than they have ever been. I have deeper insight, greater understanding and just when I think I have plateaued in my grief journey, something afresh comes from it. Sometimes it throws me back but more often than not I am aware of taking little steps forward. Like a child learning to walk, who stumbles all the time to start with and then gets more and more confident whilst still tumbling from time to time.

So anyway- I found it a little awkward to be honest- I was at an event that was to discuss a particular thing. I was not there as a grieving mother; I was just there as Dawn the Christian.

The other half of the couple appeared and by this time there were two others with them who had come with them. I was introduced to the first one by the second half of the couple saying we had something in common- this other person was a doctor and Dawn was a nurse. That was fine of course, we nodded and acknowledged each other… but then … I couldn’t believe it… then I was introduced to this other person by the fact that we too had something in common, something like, “this is X. You too both have something in common, although it’s rather sad. X’s son committed suicide last year and [to X], Dawn’s 16 year old son drowned. Although X’s son was an adult”.

Where do I start! Complete strangers at an unconnected event being introduced and having the fact that your sons both died as something you have in common! We both stood there, looked at each other and said “oh!..” The other one that I’d just been introduced also took a sharp intake of breath.

 The searing pain and shock was so unexpected. The other woman’s eyes welled up. I felt for her more than myself. She was dealing with her son’s suicide and the throwaway line by this person, “well he was an adult”- so what! I could see she was speechless and horrified.

I remember saying something like” it doesn’t matter the age, he is still your child” and said “when there are no words I learnt that a hug is best” and tried to give her a hug but she had her arms full or resources so that was a bit awkward too! So I rapidly changed the subject and said that I had better get back and needed the loo first so best do that before they locked up around me!

 I couldn’t stop thinking about it on the way home. It was just so inappropriate. I knew the person to always have been straight talking and blunt and could tell that they were absolutely oblivious that there was anything wrong with what they had just done. I found myself so amazed that a dark humour took over me and I started laughing when I got home and recounted it to Kevin. Elephant in the room or what! The next day, however, I was still thinking about it and I then felt very angry.

How dared these two people to presume to know me now! They hadn’t been with me these last 20 months. My family, my friends, my Church family have been with me, have seen what I have become, what I am becoming- and despite the grief and desperation for my youngest child- I have moved forwards I think in human empathy and understanding, in faith in God.

These two people no longer know me. I am different. I am changed. I am not where I was. I’m not sure where I am, but it isn’t where they presumed me to be and the fact that this other lady and I were labelled as having something in common because our sons had both died- made me want to shout- “I am not defined by that, I won’t be defined by that. I am still Dawn, a new Dawn [pardon the pun], but I am still wife and mother and all the things I ever was!”

I know that sounds like a contradiction and I find it hard to describe. I guess it might be a bit like in medical terms how we have gone from labelling patients as “the diabetic”, “ the epileptic”, “the disabled” to the X who happens to have diabetes, etc. From the outside you wonder at the difference perhaps but on the inside it makes a great deal.

The other thing about this incident is that I was unprepared of course. The tiring thing about my situation is always having to be prepared. I’m always on the alert. Before I am entering situations I consider what might come up, how I might act, what is the most appropriate thing to say to avoid the other person’s embarrassment, to not harp on and make everything about me and my son. Grief is selfish you see. I want to talk about Kieran and my feelings a lot -and yet on the flip side I don’t want to be defined by it!

Well- with a blog people have the choice not to read it- so I can talk away until my heart’s content- it helps my need but likewise others can switch off and I never know. But to be put into a situation where you think you are safe and then something like this comes out of nowhere throws you completely.

 I am aware that those of us grieving are a contradictory lot though so how can anyone win?

 On the other side of things though, I had to speak to another priest about something the other week and had to complete a form. The form asked me how many children I had and their ages amongst other things. I duly completed it and then spoke to the priest about what I needed to. Part of what I needed to discuss meant that I had to speak about Kieran dying and the events surrounding that (I was prepared for this as I said- whilst I don’t want to be defined as the grieving mother, I am a woman who has lost a son and that has changed me irrevocably). At the end she asked me if I had put Kieran on the form, and when she realised I hadn’t she said she felt it was important to add him- she did so, with his date of birth and death. But how wonderful, how sensitive- for my son Kieran lived and still lives on in Heaven and this was acknowledged.

Thanks be to God.

Mothering Sunday. “Everybody Welcome” -Children

Few things are more powerful than the tears and prayers of a mother. Few things are more tender than a mother’s hug or compassionate touch.

2,000 years ago God chose a young girl to give birth to Jesus Christ. Mary could have said; “Lord I’m just a girl I’m not ready to be a mother, I’m not wealthy, I’m not educated – I’m not worthy of this maybe it would be better if you got someone else.” But in fact she said, “I am the Lord’s servant, may it be as you have said…” Mary, as well as being fearful,  saw it as an honour and as a blessing.

Most of the time motherhood & protection go hand in hand. From the very moment Jesus was born his life was in danger, the wicked King Herod was on the throne and he soon sought the life of Jesus, forcing Mary to flee to Egypt. Mary protected Jesus from Herod and from many other things that would hurt Him.

Mary also protected Jesus’ identity. Though Mary knew who Jesus was and who he was to become she did not go about telling of all the wonderful, supernatural things she knew about her baby boy. Rather, as Luke says in Luke k 2:19 after saying how the shepherds told what they had heard; “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart…” The Greek word used here for treasure is a word that means “an intense, protective keeping.”

Mary’s love and devotion – for Jesus began before he was born and lasted even beyondthe cross.The first picture we have of Mary is as teenage girl in Nazareth and the final picture we see of Mary is that of an older women, hair probably a little grey – with skin dark and wrinkled by years of exposure to the Judean sun, with eyes that show the wear of years of struggle.

Do you know where it is that we find this last glimpse of Mary? Not not at the cross of her son – though she was there. Not when Jesus hung on the cross and said to her and John, “Woman behold your son – son behold your mother…” The last glimpse we see of her is in the book of Acts;

“They all joined together constantly in prayer along with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus and with his brothers…”Acts 1:14

30+ years later and Mary is still right where she is supposed to be – and Jesus is still the centre of her attention and the focus of her entire being. Mary’s love and devotion for Jesus is unquestionable. It must have been very difficult for her. Remember what the Old prophet Simeon said to Mary as she presented her month old baby boy at the temple, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel… and a sword will pierce your soul too” (Luke 2:33-34)

In Mark 3 there’s another occasion that must have pierced her soul. The respected leaders in Jerusalem were saying that Jesus was a fanatic, a lunatic who was demon possessed. What mother wouldn’t be hurt if people were saying those kinds of things about her child.

And then on that dark Friday; her Jesus, the baby she had given birth to – when Mary watched his hands and feet nailed to a cross… Hands and feet that she had once held in her hands – as she watched them beat her son, strip her son, mock her son — kill her son Mary’s soul was pierced…

Loving Jesus wasn’t easy. Yet Mary’s love and devotion was unwavering from conception to the cross… and even beyond. When others mistreated Jesus, Mary was there. When others turned Him away, he always knew that His mother wouldn’t. Even at the cross she was there, when she could no longer protect him, how helpless she would have felt.

Loving our children may not always be easy. The road may get very difficult – and our souls too will be pierced many times by the things that happen to them… When they are hurt, when they are sick, when they are betrayed and maybe even when they die…

And our soul will also be pierced at times by what they do. They may live a life that goes against all that we believe and hold dear… They may even rebel against and reject our love. But even then our love & devotion needs to be unwavering. We don’t have to condone all they do to love them unconditionally.

So we’ve looked at the example Mary set as Mother of Jesus so let’s extend this out wider now. As a community we all have a mothering or fathering role in terms of caring of welcoming, guiding and caring for the families and children God brings to our church. We are a community and we should model our parenting role not just on our own flesh and blood but for all children.

I want to tell you a brief story now.

We started going to church about 21 years ago. Our first child had been born and we needed to find somewhere to have him baptised. We weren’t practising Christians but had some exposure as children through school and church parades. Nevertheless there was something important about having our child baptised, and also something in us that wanted our child to have a “churched” background, a “good Christian” upbringing. So we thought we’d better find a church. We went to a small rural church a good 30 minutes’ drive away- the church attached to my husband’s old primary school- now long closed.

There were no toilets, no church hall and no other families or children. I remember changing my son’s nappy on the back seat of the car in the carpark. The people were lovely and tiny babies can usually be comforted by feeding them or rocking them to sleep. So not an issue initially.  Not quite 2 years later we had our daughter and things were becoming less manageable and more stressful at the church. Our eldest, by then was a boisterous toddler who spent his time walking up and down in the aisles. We would be able to sit with him and point pictures out in books for about 5 minutes at a time but he would soon become restless and want to explore.  He took a liking to the organist and used to like to stand close by and watch.

 However the organist was the one person who felt that children should be seen and not heard even though the rest of the congregation (about a dozen of them) used to reassure us. One day the vicar asked us if there was any possibility we could keep Aidan in the pew more as the organist had complained that he was putting him off!  So my husband spent increasing amounts of time, wandering around the church with the children outside- no hall, no other children, nowhere else to go. The penny dropped. What was the point in coming to church if all we did was sit there tensely and or spend most of the time outside of the church keeping the children amused. We went less and less and finally stopped going. The church continued to decline and whilst still open it no longer has a service every week.

Two young children were talking with each other about parent problems. One of them complained to the other, saying: “First they teach you to talk, then they teach you to walk, and as soon as you learn how, they tell you to ‘Sit down and be quiet”

In today’s gospel, it appears that Jesus’ disciples were attempting to quieten the children and prevent them from coming to see Jesus. Mark tells us that people were bringing their little children to Jesus hoping that he would touch them and, along with his touch, bless them. What were the disciples doing when they tried to send the children away from Jesus? Did they think that they were trying to protect Jesus and give him a chance to rest? Did they feel that children were not important to Jesus? That children did not belong in God’s kingdom? The disciples’ behaviour here seems a little strange, since it was quite customary for Jewish rabbis to bless children. In that blessing, the rabbis were bestowing on the children the hope of a life filled with health, joy, prosperity and peace. Well, whatever caused the disciples to do what they did, Mark tells us that Jesus thought and acted differently.

Over the centuries, and even today, it seems that some Christians have adopted the same attitude as the disciples. They, unfortunately, also either try to send children away or they don’t consider children as very important members of God’s kingdom.
It is important to listen to children. They hear things that we no longer hear. They have priorities we once had and now have lost.

Back to our story- fortunately it didn’t end with the first church

I became pregnant with my youngest child, Kieran and we had not been to any church for about 18 months and so we came to Emmanuel- at the time it had a thriving Sunday school and lots of children. Children were welcomed here, there were many of them and no one minded or if they did they were outnumbered by children at that time. Many of you may remember how my youngest used to regularly fidget and full off the pew, they’d be a short pause before an almighty cry, and then when he was a little older he’d say “amen” rather loudly just after everyone else had said it. We may have very few children right now but these things go in cycles- many of the children grew up in the church and their numbers declined when they went to college or university. But the point is we were made to feel welcome back then- I came for my children, developed in faith myself through this community and have ended up a Reader for the last 8 years.

Ours is not a remarkable story. It is a story where just one person made enough of a complaint to make us feel unwelcome with children in one church, and then we came to another church where it really didn’t and doesn’t matter if a child wanders around, is noisy and playful.

A teacher who listened to children used to take off his hat and bow to them at the beginning of each school day. Because they were, he explained, the future in our midst. Not surprisingly, one of the pupils was a boy called Martin Luther.

 Our children should not only be welcomed into church but actively listened to and learnt from. They aren’t the church of the future- they are the church of here and now. They are the church right this moment just as much as an adult.

Unfortunately the truth is generally speaking we don’t listen to children much. We assume they should listen to us. Children spend a lot of time sitting while adult voices talk at them.

In shops they can be ignored as adults are served first. We hang pictures high up on our walls as though everyone was tall. We ask children what they are going to be when they grow up, as though they are nothing in their present state.

Adults have much to learn from children. Children are an important part of the church community.

Jesus said the kingdom of God must be received “like a child.” It is true that Paul said he “gave up childish ways” when he grew up (1 Corinthians 13:11). But childishness is not what Jesus is referring to. Childishness is petulance. Childish people imagine the whole world is centred around them and if they cry loudly enough they will be served. Some childish people are adults. Jesus, on the other hand, asks us to be childlike. He is speaking about that open, trusting responsive part of us which laughs and cries and is willing to risk.

Listen to the children. Not just the children who are young in years. There is a child inside of all of us, no matter how old we are, who needs to be listened to.

Who knows, when we adults start listening more to the child within us, we may learn to be more joyful, less weighed down with worries and anxieties, able to enjoy the wonder, beauty and mystery of life all the more. The child in us can show us the gift of life and help us live it to the fullest. The child in us shall cherish and share the gift of imagination and creativity. The child in us can reveal the grace of God all around us.

As adults, we can have a tremendous amount of influence on children. We can take our role as mentors seriously; making the church the most welcoming place we possibly can for children. What children remember about church in their younger years will stay with them for the rest of their lives. So, like Jesus, hopefully we can be as inclusive towards children as he was—valuing them as precious members of God’s kingdom because they model for us the marvellous grace of God.

 So we looked at the model  of motherhood that  Mary set  but the perfect parent is of course God. God who loved his wayward children, whom despite us humans being chastised and put straight time and time again, continued to rebel. And so God came down to earth as a baby, born of a lowly young woman.  He was the  only perfect human being- without any sin at all,  miraculously both fully man and fully God. He came down to live among us, to reveal something of his nature, to teach us, to challenge us;  but ultimately to die for us by taking our punishment for all the sins that have been committed and will yet to be committed- by all those who have ever lived or have yet to be born. All we have to do is accept Him into our lives and follow him. Age is no barrier for  every man, woman or child is equally welcome in God’s kingdom.

Amen

Part 2: After

So we took Tia and stroked her as she lay down to sleep for her last time. We both cried. Kevin went to get Max from the car as I buried my tears in her fur as she lay still, unbreathing but warm. We thought we would take Max in afterwards so he could see and sniff Tia and understand in his doggy way that she wasn’t coming home.

He didn’t want to hang around- he gave her a quick sniff and then couldn’t wait to leave. He came home and curled up in the lounge as Kevin and I had tea and coffee and I cried a bit more. We didn’t do much for a couple of hours. My eyes ache and Kevin needed a nap as he said he felt physically and emotionally drained. But this afternoon I went out and bought Max a new toy- a long snake with 2 different squeaker sections. I got him a bone and a new collar. Tia had a new luxury soft red leather collar before Christmas and I’ve been meaning to replace Max’s- it’s been looking rather a faded khaki.

Before we took Tia to the vets I was getting cold feet- she seemed a bit better this morning…..I put her on the front lawn so she could have a final bark at the world- which she did admirably when a small terrier came around the corner- but it unbalanced her and she had to sit down. I then had to lift her up the step. I kept saying to Kevin- “we are doing the right thing aren’t we?”- I think I was still not believing that this lovely, still quite bright dog was not going to get better. Kevin carried her into the vet’s and we were barely seated when we were called in. Tia never minded the vet’s really- she was so patient and put up with so much in her life- she would have been worse if the vet had come out to us- wanting to protect the home. I know it is the right thing deep down but I can’t help feeling like an executioner.

As she slipped over onto Rainbow Bridge I told her Kieran was waiting for her- daft I know she couldn’t understand but it give me some comfort thinking of my darling son up there with all the pets we have loved and lost and getting very excited as he saw Tia coming over that bridge towards him. I imagine him introducing her to Breeze and Beesley, and then Tia and Breeze seeing who could be literally the barkiest bitch in Heaven.

 (As a side to all this Kevin also took Kitkat to the vets a couple of hours before we took Tia together. The last 2 days Kitkat has gone to the bathroom, got in the bath and wee-ed blood. Verdict cystitis, antibiotics, special diet and follow up in 4-5 days. Let’s hope Max remains healthy for a long time to come).

So it’s goodnight and lots of kisses and hugs thrown up to Heaven to Kieran and Tia and all those we have loved and lost whether human or pet and time to wipe my eyes, wipe my nose and make a fuss of Max and Kitkat (and Kevin of course!)

Another loss: before

Part one: In my last post I spoke about our pets over the years. Today we are about to lose another. Today is Tia’s day. As I mentioned in my last post, Kieran loved our pets, and adored Max and Tia who arrived bountiful into our home in 2013, the year of our darling son’s death. Kieran had 5 months with Max and 3 months with Tia before he died, and today, our hearts heavy, is the day we become executioners and wave goodbye to Tia as she crosses Rainbow Bridge into Kieran’s arms. She will be able to wag her tail again, all 4 legs will work and she will be pain free and Kieran will be giving her belly rubs and rolling on Heaven’s floor, chasing stars with her. So to Tia’s story- well what I know.

Tia was rescued, along with about 5 other dogs by the RSPCA and German Shepherd Rescue Elite. I remember being told that she was GSRE’s first true rescue- most dogs are given up, rehomed… but Tia was rescued from a house where she had been neglected, had a chronic skin condition and kept for breeding puppies to feed the man’s drug addiction.

She was 5 years old and this had been her life, if you could call it that! She was fostered with Allison, one of the founders of GSRE where she was nursed back to health. Whilst she was there Tia met Max- who was about 15 months old and had been dropped off my his previous owner. She was still being nursed back to health there when we adopted Max. About 2 months later she was ready to be rehomed and we went and walked her with Max to see how they got on again. We were going to have her for a “sleepover” the second time but actually there was no need- I brought her home and we felt honoured to be her chosen owners.

When we walked into the house for the first time there was no need for careful introduction with Max- they greeted each other like long lost friends and tails wagged as they settled down to the next 22 months together. They played a lot. Max was boisterous but Tia, having been a mum so many times, recognised Max for the adolescent he was and put him in his place if he tried anything too much. Tia loves her food too and gobbles it up in half the time it takes Max!

When Kieran died she was there to lick the tears away, to lie by our feet, to get us up in the morning. She is a lovely dog, despite how she had previously been treated, she is beautiful. Her ears might have been on the large side, her legs on the short, and her body on the long- but to us she is perfect, adorable and wonderful.

Last June, when we came back from a week in Germany, having left her and Max in the very wonderful kennels, NAPTHHA (they look after the dogs well and board some of the GSRE dogs waiting to be rehomed- but they actually work with them and help them and spend time with them to assist in making them ready for rehoming) – well anyway- when we arrived to pick them up they were very enthusiastic to see us. Tia took a flying leap into the back of the car. The next day she became lame. Initially we thought it might be sprain- short legs overstretching themselves jumping in the boot. We took her to our fantastic vet- she was quite new to the surgery and has been great with both Tia and us throughout. Vibrant, enthusiastic, willing to try all things for the best for Tia-but not afraid to tell us her prognosis.

We had x-rays where it was discovered she actually had terrible hips- hip dysplasia- that awful progressive joint disease more prevalent in German Shepherds. We were shown the x-rays and her hips were so worn that it was a surprise that she hadn’t had any issues before really. Well our vet thought given her young age (she was 6 when she was diagnosed) that she might be a candidate for a hip replacement so we went off to see an orthopaedic specialist (thank goodness for pet insurance). It was disappointing because of her underlying skin condition- well controlled but still a long term condition- the risk of bone infection would be too great- so we came back and she was started on Rimadyl.

Well within 3 weeks she was like a new dog again- back to playing with Max, back to walking- in September we went down and moved our oldest son (only son now- but always our oldest- for there will always be 3 in our hearts) and his fiancée down to Cheshunt in Herts for him to start on his graduate training scheme with TfL. They are living only 5 minutes’ walk from the huge Lea Valley Park and so Max and Tia went on a very long walk with Kevin and she was absolutely fine. She started to deteriorate again in November time I think- just a bit limpy if she went too far- but always willing, always wanting to go with Max- always first out the door if we’d let her!

Her medicine was changed in January- I guess the cold and damp of winter had been taking its toll- she was still up for it but we had to moderate her exercise. Only one walk a day now for about half an hour- and that was enough for her, though she still enjoyed it. If she had 2 walks then we had to rest her the next day. 2 weekends ago we went to see our daughter, in her final year of university. Max and Tia came with us- we stopped off at the Red Kite centre and let the dogs have a half hour potter then later on we took them to the beach- again just to potter- Max chased balls but Tia pottered next to us and seemed perfectly happy doing her usual trick of picking up the ball Max discarded, as we threw him another.

That night we were stopping in a dog friendly b&b outside of Aberystwyth. Tia would not settle- she was in pain- she was whimpering all night, restless, couldn’t get comfortable- and we sat up half the night with her. We took her to the vet when we got home- not our usual one- but another at the practice. He gave her Tramadol and not a lot else- told us to go back. So this last week we have watched to see if she improves. Her pain has improved, we just get gentle whimpers when she wakes up stiff now, and she has gone from holding her leg completely behind the other to it coming slightly lower down and touching the ground slightly. You look for the signs of improvement, waiting, hoping. But then the last 3 days you realise that her tail is now limp and she has woken up in her own urine.

She has to be helped out into the garden – lifted up and down the step- and when she does her business cannot move her leg or tail at all. We took her to our vet last night. I knew that it would come to this at some time in the future but my head and heart had not yet given up on some recovery- our vet took one look at her and knew she was much worse. She said she could do more x-rays but it wouldn’t change the outcome. I mentioned hydrotherapy that had previously been mentioned but she said that she wouldn’t benefit form that any more- that she had nerve damage, her spine was unstable and that whilst she might recover a little in about 8 weeks- it would only be very temporary again and there were no guarantees. She was so king- she has really seemed to care for Tia and followed her story- but she said the prognosis was not good and that her quality of life now was such that she thought the time had come! We could not do it there and then- I had not taken her to have her put to sleep- I had taken her to hope that something else could be suggested or to be told that we could try another medicine and that would improve her for a bit longer. But there we are. We were going to have today with her- one final day- but it now seems cruel to keep her going all day. We will be phoning g the vet shortly and looking at some time today. For now she will breakfast like the Queen she is, have a fuss- and then we will stroke her as she goes to sleep one final time. She will emerge from the sleep to be greeted by Kieran, bathed in heavenly light. He will call her and she will run to him, free and bountiful again.

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.