Spring will come

After Christmas a little part of be starts thinking winter is over 

-and every year I discover we are only half way through...

Spring is still awhile off -but it will come!

No matter how dark, wet, gray and drizzly today is.

There will be days like this again:

What are your top tips for enduring the last stretch of winter?

In our midst

As the pace is picking up as the party season starts I find myself shutting down. In this dark time of the year I find it very easy to retreat, life flattens out and melancholy lurks around the corner.  

So I find particular comfort in the art of advent - the art of anticipation.

the slow countdown of waiting

the quiet growing of expectancy

the gradual darkening of the day so dawn and dusk nearly meet

the lighting of the advent candles one by one until all are lit on Christmas day.

In our house on the first Sunday of advent Mary and Josef come down from the attic (just in case you didn't know where they normally live...) and they go on a journey around the living room until they arrive at the stables on Christmas Eve. 

Mary is heavily pregnant and Josef is walking by her side.  They are wading through our mess, also waiting for the One who came into the midst of our darkness and mess. And when He came, He came not as the one who has it all figured out, but as the helpless one who needed to be fed, cuddled, washed, warmed, soothed and comforted.

To do list

At the end of my pregnancy I went to a mum's group at a church and I was struck and a little upset by the underlying guilt and disappointment of not having enough time to read the bible, pray and do "spiritual" ministries that surfaced when they started articulating what they dreamt of and what they found a struggle in their lives as mums. 

I really do understand this feeling - in the midst of the reality of continues nappy changes, snack making and cleaning, living with God was yet another part of life that seemingly has to be sat on the shelf, along with other dreams and ambitions until the children are a little bigger. What it means and looks like to be "authentically" (whatever that means?!) living with God (at least in many of the Christian settings I'm in)-reading the bible and praying for X minutes/hours a day, being part of some ministry and so on just seems impossible to fit into the hectic life of a mum to little children (or any normal life...). Let's be honest sometimes, we don't have time to shower or brush your teeth because of all the things that need to be tended to around us... 

While I do think it is vital in the midst of the business of motherhood to sit down (or go for a walk), take a deep breath and (re)turn to God trough scripture, prayer, a smile or a glance -I do not think it is helpful to feel guilt or disappointment for not being able to spend an hour or five everyday being with God. 

God is not another thing on your list of things that need to be tended too. 

He is the One who tends to you, and He is here bidden or not.   

So here I am again trying to figure out what becoming someone who walks with God might mean. This time it's through the lens of motherhood. Being a mum (or anything thing really...) does not mean there is even less time for God, rather it is an invitations to see and encounter God in new ways -if I just start looking for Him in the small mundane things that make up my present, rather than waiting to "see" Him until I have the time to sit down for an hour sometime in the future. 

God is not on my to do list. He is here. 

-if you want to hear/read more along these lines I can recommend

Alan Ramsey's sermon "Looking Looking" and   The Practice of the Presence of God (Paraclete Essentials) by Brother Lawrence.

Status quo

I'm a sinner, I'm a saint

I'm a mother, I'm a wife

I'm a PhD student trying to lead a balanced life...

I'm a lady with a blog 

trying to navigate through the fog...

-cheesy- yes I know.Poetry is not my strength *wink*
But this kind of sums up my life at the moment. 

Being a mum brings out the worst and the best of me -never have I been so aware of the need for God's grace and never have I felt the laying down of self for someone else in this way. Truly I am a sinner and a saint. The two people that show me myself (and Christ) on a daily basis are:


Aline, who is now 4 months and she is the joy of our life. Without even knowing she might be the one who has taught me the most about myself and God, maybe ever.

Stefan is my man, I would not trade him for anything (-not even a life supply of vintage fabric in blues and greens and purples). The list of his attributes are to long to mention. However rumors have it that he might be starting his own blog to share his wisdom with the world so you might get to know him yourself in not too long.

My PhD buddy at the moment is Aquinas. He is long dead, but still baffles me in how relevant (and elegant) his thinking is - I just wish I had more time to read and write my PhD.

I really enjoy writing my little blog and it's been a great help to me in getting me making stuff, enjoying the little things, getting my thoughts straight and keeping me sane in through the fog and rain. (Thanks to all you you who have the patience to read my meanderings, encourage my making and for all the lovely comments you leave. You have no idea how many times you have made my day!)  


As a new mum people ask me what the change is like and how I'm finding it 
- truth be told I find as a new mum I haven't really had time to think about it...
 But it is catching up with me now - so up until Christmas I want to try and articulate in different posts what motherhood has done to me. 

So please bare with me in my ramblings - and my prayer is that you might find some inspiration and encouragement -maybe even a drop of wisdom in them too.

Unedited

First an apology to the (two) guys who read my blog - I love that you are here but you might find that this entry is not quite up your street.

After every pregnancy there comes several different occasions where there is a strong urge to wear jeans without an elasticated waistband again. 

The first one hit me 10days after Aline was born. Yes is was was not realistic at all that I would be able to get into my pre-pregnancy jeans - but in a desperate attempt to make my life normal, after the whirl-wind of change the arrival of Aline was, I did spend 15min trying to pull my jeans over my knees with little effect other than a flood of tears and dark thoughts of forever being banished to wearing maternity clothes. 

The second one crept up on me several weeks ago - just before going out to a party of course! In my mind a thought surely after three months my body must be getting back to normal so I pulled out my pre-pregnancy jeans again. After a lot of huffing and puffing and pulling sure enough I was able to pull them on AND just about button them up if I held my breath and didn't move (big change really -though not recognized at that moment). But the size of the muffin-tops made me want to go eat some cake. Poor Stefan had to pull out all his tricks to make me stop crying and get me patched together to leave for the party...

Normally I would consider my self a rather sensible shopper - never buy anything without a plan (except from Charlie at the market *wink* ) - you can see where this is going can't you... The other day I was in town and came across this offer for magic underwear (I do have some and they are normally my best friend) with my last disaster fresh in mind I was an easy target for the "Loose inches in seconds" and the "Get rid of Cellulite in 28 days" in big pink letters on the box. Stupidly I pick up two pack -one nude and one black- and even more stupidly -I don't know what I was thinking - probably in denial - I got a size smaller than I should have... When the lady at the till informed me that underwear could not be returned the thought did cross my mind to go grab a bigger size... but being in a good (and overconfident) mood I said nothing and swiped my card.

The next morning: Stefan's of to work, Aline's dressed and siting happily in her bouncy chair, watching me get dressed and there's 45min before we need to catch the bus. I unsheathe the magic underwear (MU) and happily get to work at squishing myself into them. 

1 min later: I'm happily tugging and pulling while Aline is smiling next to me. 
Progress: I've got them around my ankles.

5 min later: I'm singing to Aline to keep her happy, while still tugging and pulling -now with an edge of aggression at the pants. 
Progress: mid-calf 

10 min later: I've stopped singing and given Aline a toy. The hauling and yanking has become slightly more energetic and the regard for my nails had gone.
Progress: just over the knees...

15 min later: Aline is now board of her toy and has started to whine and wriggle. I've worked up a sweat and am too tangled in the MU to be able to do anything. One nail has broken, I've managed to make a hole in the MU (!).
Progress: half-way up my thighs.

25min after first starting: Aline's whining is getting louder. I am now lying on the floor wriggling like a worm trying to get the dam MU's over my hips. Two more nails have thrown in the towel and let's just say my happy mood from earlier that day had gone.

35 min after staring (10min before the bus leaves): Aline is crying. So am I. But the MU are finally on (yes I'm stubborn when I need to be). Well that is I've managed to pull most of it up, but the crotch is still half-way down my thighs making it very uncomfortable to walk...

36 min: I give Aline her dummy and hobble as fast as I can up stairs, pull out my jeans (-yes I have become a mad woman on a mission...), step into them and pull them up only to find that the button is just as hard to fasten and the muffintops are still there! What I disappointment! I'm sure you could hear my "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" in Headington.

40 min: I managed to unfold myself from the MU -that alone took 3min - throw on my maxi-dress - throw Aline into the pram (not literally of course) and run out the door to catch the bus only to see it just leave the bus stop...

Here is a picture of the dam thing:

Lesson: Be gracious towards my self, celebrities that are back in shape after 6 weeks are not human and getting your hair done can make up for wearing maternity jeans... healthy eating and exercise and time are now my good friends. After all Aline is worth it! 

Unedited

The other day I had a spontaneous tea-party with my lovely friends Sharon (an amazing fine art photographer who's just finished her MA at Uni. Westminster: go look at her beautiful work here), Mary (who really needs to start a blog, addressing the topics of this post) and Michelle (who now is back in Louisville).

Our conversation entered the realm of images (Yes we live in Oxford and are therefore inherently geeky - which shows in our topics of conversation...). 

Everyday we are bombarded with so many images of how our homes and our bodies should look - What clothes we should wear and how we ought to decorate our living spaces. And yes I must admit, I really enjoy looking at stunning interiors and well dressed people - taking every bit of inspiration from them that I can. 

When our resources such as time, money, space are limited such inspiration can make me thrifty and creative. However, a lot of the time such images give me false aspirations of what I think my life should be like. 
Let's be honest - my house is going to look lived in, there will be dust in the corners and on the bookshelves, the laundry pile will probably never completely disappear - neither will my stretchmarks and cellulite, bills will continue coming through the door and I might never be a size 10... 
There will never be enough hours in one day to: make everything in the house from scratch - be an amazing creative mum - do my PhD - be a caring friend - a loving wife - have flawless make-up - have a little business selling stuff I make - and change the world - ect... (randomized order of course...*smile*)

But I can do a lot, if I don't try to do all at once and most importantly if I stop trying to shape my life after the edited and perfectly styled images that surround me. 

So to sum up my rather long rant- 
YES to appreciating what we have and where we are, rather than wanting to be somewhere else.
YES to seeing the heavenliness in the unedited, mundane and messy lives that we actually live in.

The challenge? 

Bring out and nurture forth the beauty and potential in our surroundings, without editing away the messy and broken. 
As an exercise in this, and hopefully an encouragement to you, I want to regularly post a photo from my life - no tidying, styling or editing (apart from light and contrast after the photo is taken) as a different kind of inspiration from the images we normally are bombarded with.

Here is the first one:

  The table the day we talked about these things.
   





         

Sometinhg in the house that inspired me today!

Now that I am back at home and settling into a rhythm with Aline, I am inevitably spending more time at home. But I don't want to degenerate into nothingness - or more likely end up watching soaps on Iplayer all day - so I have a given myself a little task. 
- Which is to notice and appreciate one thing or situation that inspires me. I want it first and foremost to be something in the house as a way of being conscious of that being at home with Aline is not a matter of putting my life on hold or being trapped at home and that there is beauty in the everyday moments of life.

So this is my first contribution:

A

A belt that I bought this summer, a card I bought yesterday, a flee-market find from a few years ago and a flower from our garden. 

Good to be back! 

The Promise of Bare Branches

The text for the second Sunday in lent can be found here

Early spring can have such a moody nature, at least here in Oxford. One day you catch glimpses of the sun and feel the warmth on your back, only to have the next day be gray, damp and cold - with all promises of warmer weather blown away. 

Abram (this is before he is given his new name)has had previous meetings with God (Gen. 12) where he had been given the promise of children and a great inheritance, had set out on a strenuous journey in faith, but he has still not seen any of it come to pass. So when God comes to Abram this time proclaiming that He is his shield, rather than being comforting to Abram, it evokes despair and doubt. He questions God and the fulfillment of the promises the Lord has made to him. Even though he has had encounters with Gods glory, he is still overcome by gray cloud of the mundane and lack of fruition of the promises he thought were given him. God takes him outside, but there is no spectacular vision the Lord shows Abram. He asks him to look at the starlit skies, probably one of the most ordinary, mundane and familiar sights Abram knew having spent a lifetime living under them. God takes the ordinary and shows that it is an embodiment of His promises, He makes it a meeting point and constant reminder of His relationship to Abram.

Under those same stars, when Abram has descended into deep sleep and terrifying darkness - again so different from what I think the experience of God's glory might be - God forms a covenant with Abram. A commitment made by God that Abram only has a sleeping part in... God is the initiator and upholder of the promise made.

To me this infuses the season of spring and Lent with new depths, let me see if I can articulate why...

Spring and Lent are both to me times of fluttering of life. 

Spring is moody in nature, just as much making starkly obvious the lack of life in the bare branches, the withered decomposing remnants of last years plants and the dark empty soil, as announcing the new life to come in the returning heat and light of the sun, the tips of green sprouting from the ground. As one prone to winter depression, a lovely spring day can sometimes seem even more cruel than a dark winters day as the contrast becomes too great and the fear of being left behind in the death of winter darkness, when others emerge in the new life of spring, can hit hard. 

Likewise Lent to me has the same characteristics of making starkly obvious the lack of life in the stripping bare - in the laying down comforts through the practice of fasting, an unveiling of the heart in the disconcerting and unfamiliar clouds of God's glory (as in the previous musing on Moses's encounter with God) and the knowing that the darkness of Good Friday - where all that is left us is, echoing Mary Magdalene words, it that: "Our Lord is dead, and we do not know where they have put him.". Yet at the same time in the practice of lent and the stories we read and the in knowledge of the Resurrection that is to come, just as with spring, we are always reminded of the life and promises that are breaking through just under the surface - this is the promise the bare branches of spring carry for me. 

And until it comes into fruition, God comes, like He did to Moses, showing us His glory and promises in the humdrum of our everyday lives - if needed, he even comes into the midst of our tiredness and surrounding darkness, letting us sleep while he does the work.              
 

In Preperation for Glory

Today, as you might know, is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. Over Lent I have decided to write down some of the thoughts I have around the texts that are set out in the Lectionary for the Sundays until Easter as part of the way I will be 'doing' Lent this year. So here are my ponderings on the first text from Sunday the 14th of February; Exodus 34:29-34(stay tuned for the next one!)

 

Moses came down from the mountains having met with God. He was transformed by this encounter - his face shone so brightly that he had to cover it with a veil when speaking to the Israelites so that they would not be afraid. What a glorious encounter that must have been to produce such effects! Moses must have been taken to the very throne room of heaven, surrounded by angles singing 'Holy, Holy, Holy to the Lord God Almighty', felt rapture and bliss...  

Yet when we read of this encounter in chapter 34 it is far from the kind of glorious encounter I imagine it should be. It happens in the clouds and mist. Moses is standing on the rock as he was told to do, squinting into the mist trying to make out his surroundings. He probably looses track of time as he stands there in the early morning chill. Maybe there is a small pile of stones behind him that he accidentally dislodges that causes him to spin around to catch a glimpse of God only to stare into another direction of cloud.

Then suddenly he finds himself in the narrow cleft of the rock. Squashed on every side by cold black stone. The water trickling down the inside of the cleft finds its way down his neck, a jagged rock is poking him in his side but there is no room to move into a more comfortable position. Mist and darkness enshroud his senses. If he had not lost track of time before, he certainly did now. In the darkness of the cleft every second lasted forever. He strained his senses to become aware of God's glory passing by, but God had covered the rock with his hand. 

God was passing by on the outside.

Out there Moses could hear the Lord proclaiming His name: The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children, to the third and the fourth generation". 

How long would it take for God in his entire glory to pass by? 

When Moses found himself free of the rock, his experiences of God is like the smell of a lingering cologne or the settling of dust after a herd of sheep has passed by and he falls to the ground in worship.             

This is the glorious encounter with God that transformed Moses, one that might have been a wet, dark and confusing encounter for Moses...yet in the midst of cloud Moses gets to know God in a way that lets him go before the Lord unveiled. "Whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with him, he would remove the veil, until he came out."

When in a place of darkness, feeling stuck and uncomfortable, surrounded by cloud and mist and loosing the capacity of one's senses, it not only feels like a light veil covering my face, but like a heavy bag pulled over my head, and there is no awareness of glory in that experience. 

It might be that what is  happening is an unveiling of my heart, a stripping back of the scaffolding that holds my conception of God together and all my pretty answers of how things should and shouldn't be. The God I encounter in the cloud and mist has no boundaries I can grab hold of to shape into a nice comfortable place. Rather the encounter forces me to trust a God I cannot clearly make out, in a situation I cannot control. I am stripped of my layers, unveiled before God, encountering God's glory in a manner I cannot fathom. 

     

Battered and bruised

This is one of Stefan's treasures - battered, bruised, dented... it has lost its handle and shine and the lid doesn't fit anymore. He found it in an old tattered cardboard box hidden out of sight at an antique market in Oslo several years ago. He took pity on it knowing that no one else would ever buy it, gave the man at the stall 50p and came running over to me to show me his amazing find. I must admit that I could not see the amazingness...I was quietly thinking 'this is why I love you, but I will quietly hide that "treasure" away and out of sight when we come home'. But Stefan loved it, and it wasn't forgotten despite my efforts of packing it away in storage when we where moving from Norway to Oxford. Stefan found it and took it with us. Here in Oxford its been moved (by me) out of sight, found (by Stefan) and placed on the table or in the window sill. Last week Stefan found it (again), lifting it down from the very top of the bookshelf, where it had been carefully hiding behind a speaker, and placed it on our coffee table. So there it was back in my life...

It caught my eye when setting up the blog yesterday, it struck me that Stefan had seen this little mundane, worn, battered and bruised pot NOT for its potential - how it could be renewed, brought back to life, polished up or give some story or charm to an orchestrated display like I tend to do, rather he saw it as it is, and found it beautiful.

I need that.

Making room for the broken and battered, not because it gives more depth or authenticity or any other instrumental value, but because it simply is a part of life. It should not be hidden away, but valued and cared for, even though the thing that is broken or bruised might never transform. In doing so I pray that my eyes will be transformed so that I can recognize the mundane as beautiful and see Him in all things.

May God expand our horizon to include the things, people and events that we write off at first glance or hide away out of sight.

And please do share your thoughts on this! I'd love to hear your stories. What is the quiet whisper in your day so far?