Who am I?

Posted on 18/05/2012 by pilgrimKath

Well, it’s Friday morning and for the first time in about 3 months I’m back in my favourite cafe in Brighton to recapture some of my writing mojo. This pregnancy lark certainly takes a while to get used to, but the nausea has stopped for now and there are thoughts to be processed onto these pages. As I emerge from my coma of sickness and tiredness a few things have changed in my landscape, I can no longer cycle/walk anywhere without being ridiculously puffed out, I was healthy dammit, I could run and everything. Now I’m lucky if I want to walk anywhere. I must get in the swimming pool this week and stop inhaling chocolate by the kilogram. I must.

I’m also thinking through another shift in my identity coming up. Limbo land is a weird place to be but it does at least give me a chance to start to ponder the changes that come with another label to attach to my person. Well, it gives me a chance to cry through the resulting fears and worries and present my snotty face to husbandface and let him laugh at me, reassure me and generally be lovely. This week I started to freak out that I was once more losing my name. A thing that would only be true if I never saw anyone but my future children for the rest of my life.  The Mum title will be given to me but it, once more, won’t be the most defining thing about me, and anyway it will be more fun to have than my current job title of fundraiser.

After bawling out my fears all over the aforementioned husbandface I sat down with that rather important book again to try and once more figure out and address my worries. I like that about our God, he doesn’t tell me that I’m a fool for having such worries, or scorn my over-thinking, over-analytical personality. He does gently prise me away from my crazy internal world and kindly, compassionately shows me a better reality to live in. This time it was back to the old old words written a long time ago which have such power to transform all of our lives. Ephesians 5:1-2 always has the answer to who we are and what we are doing down here.

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children  and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

We are dearly loved children of God and we’re called to live a life of love. Whether we have babies or not, whether we have 5 labels attached to our name or none, whether we are surrounded by people who think we are brilliant or whether it’s a struggle to face each day and encounter others. We are dearly loved children. Whether the worst or best happens to us today or we just bumble through the day like any other. We are dearly loved. Dearly loved. Dearly loved. We can walk through this world with confidence knowing that whatever changes in our situations and lives, that big fat truth remains, well, true.

We also all have a call on our lives, a role to play, a part in this grand epic story. We have a universal calling that applies to all our situations and circumstances. We are to live a life of love, imitating our kind loving Father, sacrificing as Jesus did when he walked this earth. Whether in a job, with housemates, with deep committed friends, with husbands and wives, with children and grandchildren. Through all the varying circumstances we live in the call is the same. To reach out in love. My life is going to look very different in 6 months time (God willing), mine and husbandface’s relationship will change and develop, friendships will change and develop, hopefully new friendships will be formed and old friendships will evolve. Through all that and more the heart of me remains. I am Kath, I am dearly loved and I am called to live a life of love in the arms of my Father.

That is where peace is finally found in my internal wranglings. Phew.

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On the joys of being ill

Posted on 09/05/2012 by pilgrimKath

This week is M.E awareness week, I can’t think of a more misunderstood condition than this one, please go to the lovely Tanya’s blog to find out more about what it’s like to actually live with M.E and hear some stories that might make you angry at how woefully it is viewed and treated in this country.  It’s been helping me reflect on the strange land of illness and how I want to live better within it. I am familiar to a small degree with the land of long term illness. I was in that place in my teenage years when I had Glandular Fever on and off for about 5 years. I experienced the world of doctors looking puzzled and expressing strange treatments like going to see a careers advisor to help with it and my depression which kicked in at the same time. Interesting.

Those years have left me a legacy of being rubbish when I’m ill. I tend to think I’m either making it all up, shouldn’t be so pathetic and get on with things, feel like everything around me is crumbling around and feel far from God. The depression that lurked around that time comes back like a bad memory and I’m unsure if I’m just remembering it or actually surrounded in a fog of gloom again. It feels wrong to be cheery when I’m ill, wrong to laugh and when I can no longer do the things that make me feel connected to God I generally conclude he is far away.

Pregnancy has left me exhausted and nauseous for most of the first 3 months. I’m fairly convinced that it’s not an illness (there is an excellent reason for the grimness and my body is adjusting to something that is natural and what it is designed to do) but it feels like old illness come back to haunt me and so it’s been tempting to head back down the old well trodden path of my teenage reactions to feeling like this. My usual self medicated cures for the melancholy of my soul don’t work at the moment, I’ve not done this little exercise for years and I miss the endorphins. Food is tricky and tiredness means I have little energy to engage in deep profound conversations on the state of the world and just want to sleep or watch trash tv. I’m reassured by web forums that this is normal for pregnant women, that I don’t have to pull myself together and get on with life and that rest is good for me and the small creature growing inside me.

However, the stinky cold I have this week (without the usual dousing in lempsip, cough mixture and flu tablets that are all out for pregnant people) has sent me back into the old spiral. Yesterday though I sat on my sofa and pondered. Surely my relationship with God can’t be based on whether I am able to form a cohesive sentence to him or not? Surely the reality of God can’t be based on whether I’ve written in my notebook and read some of the Bible today? Surely his love and grace are not dependent on whether I think I’ve done enough for him today?

The crazy reality that I wish was my default belief setting is that breathing really is enough. When we have no coherent thoughts, when we can’t sit up straight because we’re so tired, when we can barely move God’s love remains constant. When we wake up in the morning we wake up in the Fathers arms and nothing can take us out of them. When we wake up in the morning we wake up into a world that is loved, we wake up to a world where we are loved and we live in the strength of that. We don’t have to work our way into God’s love each day, not having to do things to convince ourselves that we are still here.  How do I know? One man, Jesus. He’s bought the right for me to be in God’s family. He’s adopted me into the family, I am his beautiful daughter and I am part of a new world.

That’s the beauty of grace, there is nothing we bring to the table. Illness reminds me of that, and reminds me of the wonderful truth that God loves first and out of his initiative, not as a result of mine. I believe that with all my heart for everyone else on this journey of life with God, it’s taking a little while longer to get through my thick skull and dare to believe it’s true for me as well.

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A new Blog

Posted on 07/05/2012 by pilgrimKath

I’m so excited by this blog that it deserves a blog post all of it’s own. My lovely Brother and Sister-in-Law have just returned from the land of Canada.  Spewed up on the shore of England once more they find themselves in a new landscape and have made the wonderful decision to get their writing and life out there in the bloggy world. I like this for a number of reasons.

1.They can both write. Like really well. Like better than these sentences.
2. They don’t fit a mould, this will be a blog that is always interesting, thought provoking and will point you back to our brilliant God in ways you weren’t expecting.
3. It’ll be fun guessing who wrote which post.
4. It’s about finding God in life. Whether that’s in the study, in the kitchen, bringing up two boys or any other senario these are people who want us to find God in all of life. I need reminding of that. I need the refreshing truth of that. I’m pretty sure you do to.
5. I love these guys.You should too.

There you go. Click here now.

Why are you still here…? Off you go…

But still come back and visit sometime OK?

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A slightly roundabout way of saying something rather important.

Posted on 04/05/2012 by pilgrimKath

The thing about writing is that I just need to start doing it. The thing about new areas of life to be written about is that I just need to start writing. Whenever new things happen in my life this fair blog goes a bit silent. I need time to mull over them, to reflect without sharing those instant reflections with all and sundry (the few people who pass by this way occasionally). I think it’s a good thing, I’m aware that this is a space for reflection after I have communicated in flesh and blood ways to people I know and love and who can respond in personal ways. I think it’s good to be slow in announcing stuff and slow in thinking about how to start writing about new things. It is right that I have told many actual people in personal ways about this news before I have written about it here.  But sometimes I get paralysed by thinking about how this new thing can be written about, can be shared with the world, especially when it is something that has the potential to cause pain in others lives, and lets face it the potential to go horribly wrong. (go me and my less than optimistic personality)

I had this paralysis when it came to going out with someone, becoming their fiancee and then marrying them all in the space of 9 months. I didn’t know how to write about it all, mainly because my life had been so clearly defined by being single and dealing with that for so long. I knew people would struggle to hear the news, I knew that because I’d been there myself in that tangled place of joy, sorrow, envy and thankfulness. I know that I can’t help peoples reactions, I know that I am not responsible for others reactions and yet being aware of them stops me writing. Lets get this clear. Empathy is a good thing, over analysis and trying to make everyone happy is not such a good thing. One is loving, the other is, lets face it, a little bit over controlling.

I wrote recently about the joy in sharing in others adventures however different they are and in principle I’m totally all up for this, but I find it easier when I have to be the one dealing with loss, pain, envy etc. I always find it a bit easier to be the one struggling than the one who is perceived to have much. There is a dangerous appeal of identity in the pain. It is these emotions I am used to, these I know how to fight. When I’m given amazing gifts that I know others long for it’s a little bit harder to deal with.

I think I find this because it’s easy to buy into the lie that my former life was one of emptiness whilst this new world is one of fullness. The reality is that I had a very full life before husbandface came along, my 20s were brilliant years, I enjoyed deep fulfilling friendships and fought for contentment in the world. I wouldn’t change them for anything. When we started a relationship husbandface didn’t complete me, fill my empty world or any other strange lie the music industry would like to tell us. He’s wonderful and I deeply love and enjoy being married to him but it doesn’t stop loneliness, fear, rejection, envy or pride. (odd that) Our world before the possibility of a real live baby was not empty and is not now suddenly full. It’s just a differently shaped world. I do my friends a disservice when I assume because I have what they don’t that their world is empty and mine is full. They do themselves a disservice when they look at my world and think it’s full and theirs is empty. And yet that seems to be a big fat lie of the culture around us. I can’t stop friends going through painful times, I can’t control people’s reactions, I can only try to walk through this life with a generous heart, grateful for the presence of our wise kind Father in the midst of the joys and sorrows that our different adventures bring us, trusting that He will be enough for me and for those around me.

There, that was a nice roundabout, over anaylsing way of saying, I’m pregnant and we’re, all being well, going to have a baby at the end of October. This blog will pretty much stay as always on the rambling topic of faith in the midst of this crazy world and will probably include slightly more stories of how having a child affects that. But fear not, I’m not going to have a countdown clock to when the baby appears nor will I go on about my theories of parenting in a slightly militant style (I’d have to actually, you know, have some theories, for that to happen). I’ll save the parenting blogs for those who are actually good at it (Circus Queen being one if you are a parent out there, not militant at all and very helpful indeed) and who set their blogs up for that very purpose.

Your correspondent, slightly afraid that now this is out there in the public arena that everything will go wrong. Yep she’s one of those worrying mother types. Any advice on dealing with worry will be gratefully received.

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Am I the only one?

Posted on 23/04/2012 by pilgrimKath

This is going to be one of those posts in which I wonder once again… am I the only one?  Today I want to talk about that beast of all beasts, the telephone.  I usually think my incompetence and fear when it comes to using this device is another one of those proofs that I’ve never really grown up or become an adult. It just doesn’t seem a socially acceptable fear to have. I’ve hated the telephone as long as I can remember. The idea of phoning up someone you can’t see and having a conversation honestly makes me feel a bit sick. If I have to do it I’ll plan out in my head what I’m going to say, rehearse and procrastinate everything else in my life until I’ve made the call. Thoughts of the call will circle around my head until I’ve made it when I can get back to thinking about normal life like a sane person again. (this doesn’t count when dealing with close friends, I love talking to them on the phone, I can imagine their faces and know they’ll forgive any social awkwardness.)

Being in a job where I had to answer the phone and make phone calls to people helped my fears a little bit. I’ve managed to improve in answering the phone, after all, the ball is in the other person’s court and in my office I could always pass them onto someone else if I had no idea how to deal with them.  I also find it much easier answering as someone from a company/charity. It’s easier to have a line to say rather than my mumbled attempts at hello. I’d still rather not answer the phone to someone I know even if we have a great face to face relationship unless I know why they are phoning, I fear the awkward how are yous, the not knowing how long the conversation should last for, the lack of social etiquette to help us through this conversation. My face will turn red at fumbled awkward moments and I’ll have to walk around the house for a bit after the call trying to shake off the weirdness. I have issues. I know.

Phoning people is still a massive hurdle to overcome.  I have to work myself up to it, I have to wait until the office was clear, and then worry about it some more until the dreaded moment.  What makes the whole sorry debacle worse is when the person I’m trying to speak to is out- it delays the inevitable, and I have to go through the whole sweaty process again. Give me email any day, let me express myself to strangers in words and I’m happy.

I think I fear the phone so much because it gives so little. All I have is my rather strange voice and my fumbling words, the person can’t see my winsome smile or be amused by my body language, I can’t read the non-verbal signals they are giving telling me it’s ok to keep talking, or that they haven’t a clue what I’m talking about or that I need to repeat myself clearly as they are looking at me with an increasingly puzzled expression on their face. I hate the social awkwardness of the telephone, the not knowing whose turn it is to speak and the randomness of trying to work out how to engage with someone based on their voice, and my voice. I hate that sometimes people think I’m a man on the phone, that I can’t parade my obvious signs of being a woman.  I hate that if we have an awkward goodbye it will stay with me for hours afterwards, I’ll worry if I offended them or if their shortness with me was because of me or because they just saw a giant rabbit eating their plants and had to deal with it straightaway. There are no physical reassurances at the end of a phone call, no smiles to see, no clues to pick up on that all might not be ok with the other person. I’m getting better at this phone business slowly but it doesn’t get easier to phone up random people.

I know I’m a big wuss, my Mum battles with a stammer and has an excellent reason to hate the phone, I have none of that, just a red face, a whole pile of social awkwardness and maybe a love of actual physical face to face interaction.

Am I the only one?

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Dear Diary… It’s been a while…

Posted on 19/04/2012 by pilgrimKath

We’ve been back from holiday for a week now and it really is high time I started this thing called writing again. As ever, to get back into the world of blogging, I feel like I have to write a post filling in the gaps. So it’s another dear diary post for me today.

We spent the Easter Holidays in Chicago enjoying the hospitality of our American family (it’s a long story but they pretty much adopted husbandface as an honorary son back when he was small and by default I got invited into the family when we got married). We had wonderful times hanging out with them, wandering around pretty places, eating amazing food and generally soaking up the joys of big city living in America. As ever it was fascinating noticing the differences in our cultures, in expressions of faith and the way we live our lives. It’s always tempting to think we are pretty similar but there are so many different ways we approach this thing called life.

This time I was struck once again by the continuing existence of the American Dream, despite all the battering of recession and hard times there is still a sense that you can achieve what you want to with your life, that hard work will pay off, that hope is a reality to infect today, that no-one is going to give you stuff for free so being an entrepreneur will pay off. It’s a good thing to try hard.

I’m sure it’s not like that for everyone but there does seem to be a bit more optimism around over the other side of the pond. Over here I think we’re tired and cynical. It’s easy to give up learning, growing or trying. We still feel the shame of the nerdy kid at school who knew all the answers and think that effort, learning and growth aren’t things to champion, it’s almost a bit too geeky to care about your job that you want to develop in it. If we are like that the best way is to play it cool. Husbandface is doing a masters at the moment and the general consensus of his colleagues is scorn, wondering why he would give up his Saturdays to think about teaching.

I know we’re into giant stereotyping world here but I sense this pull toward apathy and cynicism in my life, towards a fear of trying for what I might look like if I fail and a scorn for those more optimistic in this life. I’m sure I’m not the only one. I’m also sure that there are people over here who still have hope and who are up for making the most of this life, whose brains haven’t been dulled to death by spending all free time in front of the TV. It’s just that they seem harder to find.

Anyways, enough of pontificating with no real basis for my conclusions. What do you reckon? Have we lost the plot over here? Is there any hope left?

Whilst you have a think about that, here are some pretty sights we saw out there.

The view from the apartment, Chicago by night.

Don’t look down… At the top of the Willis Seers Tower on the skydeck with Meredith.

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