Sometimes life looks like this…
… and sometimes it’s more like this.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone! I wrote this post a week ago and I’m just getting around to posting it.  It occurred to me that perhaps it’s wildly inappropriate to be writing these things on Mother’s Day – but then again I thought maybe the opposite is true? I hope you don’t have a meltdown today, but I’m sure there’s no guarantee.  If you’re not a mum and you read this, maybe it will inspire you to give a mum you know a cuddle today!

I had a meltdown this week. By meltdown I mean a grown-up tantrum, unless when I write grown-up you think of rational, reasonable and proportionate, in which case it was just a tantrum.

And I just thought that I should tell you about it – lest you think that I’ve got it all together. Some people tell me I’m always calm. I can be screaming on the inside, but for some reason people will say to me things like, ‘How are you not stressed?’  My family (parents; brother; husband) find this all very amusing, because they know I’m like a wild donkey really in the emotions department. Anyway, I’d hate for you to think that, because I write this blog, I’m fine every day.  And even when I tell people I’ve had a meltdown, I will say it in a calm (or even entertaining) way, which detracts from the reality of the emotional rubbish heap I found myself in on Wednesday evening.

I think it’s normal to do this sometimes – to find a day really hard and to decide to sit and have a cry. Or worse, experience the thunderstorm on the inside but not quite know how to express it.  Maybe something obvious triggers it  – a toddler tantrum followed by the washing machine leaking and then rounded off with banging your head on the kitchen cupboard (I HATE banging my head.  It’s my least favourite thing to do).  In a way these times are simpler, because then when your husband comes home (or your mum walks in) and finds you in a heap on the floor, you can explain yourself.

Other times it’s less obvious. Could it be cumulative tiredness or stress?  Hormones? Doubts trickling in about God’s goodness? Worries about money occupying your thoughts and reducing your capacity and patience?

This time it wasn’t really anything obvious.  I wanted my husband to be home, and he was a bit late.  I suddenly felt really, really sick of looking after my children, all the while watching them and feeling incredibly guilty for having such selfish thoughts:  ‘I’ve been breastfeeding this baby for eight-and-a-half months and I’d like a day off!’  ‘God has sustained this life for eight-and-a-half months and all I can do is whine about it!’  Etc.

I’m no expert, but I assume that if I felt like this every day, I would probably be spiralling into a depression and should ask someone for some serious help.  But once in a while, is it normal for a mum to feel trapped and weary and a bit like she needs to scream into a pillow?  I dare say it is.

Now it’s probably the appropriate moment to present the solution to my emotional problems, in order to encourage any mums out there who can relate to what I’m saying.  But actually I don’t have the solution, and because I don’t think there is an easy fix, I’m not going to try giving you one.

My husband, like many men, is a fixer. This is a good quality, and I’m not knocking it.  But it’s a burden for him when there’s something he can’t fix.  That’s why it’s hard for him when I’m in labour! And it’s hard for him when I’m just feeling fed up of my 24/7/365 job.  He can encourage me to go to bed early, but that won’t necessarily stop me being tired (especially if the baby wakes in the night). He can remind me of God’s kindness and all there is to be thankful for.  Now that is a good one, but it won’t necessarily cheer me right up instantly. So sometimes, I just need a hug. It’s a cliché, but sometimes you do just need a shoulder to cry on, and for someone to tell you that it’s not really surprising that you quite fancy a holiday in the Maldives.

But when I’m feeling down, I need to preach to myself, rather than listen to myself.  Below I’ve listed a few things that spring to mind, in no particular order because this is not the place for a polished piece:

  • Is God surprised by my tears? I assume not, otherwise why would he say that ‘he will wipe every tear from [our] eyes’?  (Rev 21.4)
  • If life is hard, then that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I can learn to change my expectations – life is not a bed of roses.  CS Lewis wrote: ‘If you think of this world as a place intended simply for our happiness, you find it quite intolerable: think of it as a place of training and correction and it’s not so bad.’  So I can thank God, even in the tears, that he’s teaching me something, even when I can’t fathom what that is at the moment.  Then I can go to bed – tomorrow is a new day.
  • My church family is there for me, so I need to be honest about how things are going.  Anything else is lying.  And they can’t help me at all if they think I’m absolutely fine.
  • Guilt and shame are a thing of the past, because I am in Christ.  Yes I should say sorry for wishing I were far away from my beautiful children. No I may not feel ashamed and guilty. ‘Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one.  Christ Jesus who died – more than that, who was raised to life – is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.’  Romans 8:33-34.
  • I need to pray that if God doesn’t want to change my situation, that he would change me instead. I trust he can do this, because he’s been doing it for about thirteen years now.  And sometimes, when I’m not looking, he does graciously change my situation too.  Thanks be to God.
  • My emotions don’t define me, so there’s no need to panic.  God is still God when I’ve locked myself in the bathroom.  The gospel is still true when I don’t know how I’m going to get through the day.
  • Sometimes, like Elijah in 1 Kings 19:3-6, what I actually need is to sleep, eat, then sleep some more.


The God of Small Things

The climax of God’s glorious creation – plus some trees and a lake.

Have you read ‘The God of Small Things’ by Arundhati Roy?  It’s both excellent and horrifying.  I highly recommend it unless you are in any way sensitive to violence, or are hormonal in any way.  I for one wish I’d never read it, but not because of anything to do with the quality of it.  But I’ve just borrowed the title for this blog post because sometimes I wonder, is our God actually the God of Small Things?

I’ve already mentioned that we recently had our church’s weekend away.  We were staying in a big house in the countryside, and the weather was amazing.  Amazing for England in March, i.e. sunny and breezy and a bit warm.  For one of the talks we sat outside in the sunshine (because our Pastor is fun!).  There we were, in the grounds of this house – trees, lakes, fields as far as the eye could see.  These things make your heart sing, don’t they?  God is awesome – in the actual sense of the word.  (Northern English people don’t say ‘awesome’ when they mean ‘pretty good’).  A friend of mine has just been to the Isle of Lewis (Scottish Island, really far away) and he was telling me how the beauty of God’s creation is crying out to you about God’s glory all the time when you’re there.  And that’s a biblical view, isn’t it?  Romans 1 says ‘For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities… have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made…’  (See also Psalm 19)

But do you know what shows us God’s glory more than a mountain?  The crowded bus stop near my flat.  The homeless man who sits outside my Doctor’s surgery.  My husband’s bed-bound grandfather.

‘So God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.’  Genesis 1:27.

The trouble with the city is, it’s full.  It takes half an hour to drive the three miles to my friend’s house, because there are other people in the way.  Where we live, you can rent a spacious 1 bedroom flat for £350 per week – because there are too many people and not enough space.  It’s hard to get your child into nursery, because the nursery is full of other people’s children.  The city is crammed, bulging and bursting at the seams, with people like you and me.  And that’s the glory of the city.  This is not a post about the city, though – maybe I’ll write one some day but while Tim Keller is around there seems little point in me trying to say anything worthwhile about the city.

Every person you’ve ever seen is made in God’s image.  And because of that, we have a responsibility to treat them with dignity and to value them above other things God has created.  That’s why the Bible says it’s OK to eat meat, but not to kill a person (Acts 10:9-13; Gen 9:6).

So as parents, what can we take away from this?  Often our role seems insignificant compared to other people we know.  You might have friends who deal with large sums of money each day, or who run successful businesses, or who create beautiful music or art or food.  You might have friends whose daily challenges include prescribing people the right medication, or rescuing people from domestic violence, or communicating the gospel to prisoners or gangsters or politicians.  I have friends who do these things.  And what do I do?  I get my children dressed.  I help them with jigsaws.  I grill fish fingers.  I hang the washing out.

Some friends of ours had their first baby this week. The father, a Doctor himself, texted me to ask if I knew what to do about the baby’s chapped lips.  I didn’t really know, but I tried to reassure him that it would probably be OK.  My husband and I were reminiscing about those first few days and weeks, in which your world shrinks.  Suddenly everything is about this little life, and how to sustain it.  ‘She’s pulling a face, is she OK?’ ‘He can’t get his wind up!’  ‘Is she meant to be cross-eyed?’  These things are all terribly important to you.  But do you ever wonder whether they’re important to God?  Can God really care if this child has dry skin or not?  Does God want me to care about that?

There’s one child born every minute in the UK.  Can God really care about each one of those children?  Or in other words,

‘When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?’ (Psalm 8:3-4)

God is so big, and the world is so magnificent, so am I just losing track of what really matters?  As I pray about my daughter enjoying nursery more, or my son having tantrums less, or my baby suffering less with teething, is God really bothered?  The psalm goes on:

‘You have made them a little lower than the angels,
and crowned them with glory and honour.
You made them rulers over the works of your hand;
You put everything under their feet…’ (5-6)

God does care, because he’s chosen to make people in his image.  Your children matter to him, because he’s made them to be rulers over his magnificent creation.  God has made them, and they’re amazing.  They’re corrupt, oh yes, but they’re glorious.  In fact, the corruption is so much worse because of how glorious they are.  No wonder it’s so hard to bring them up right.

I heard a brilliant talk last year on Psalm 23 (‘The Lord is my Shepherd’).  The preacher used the example of Aron Ralston who got trapped down a ravine and had to cut his arm off to escape (made famous by the film ‘127 Hours’).  He was asking us if ever have ‘canyon moments’, where we feel completely stuck and helpless. Maybe it’s an illness, or financial problems, or addictions.  And then he said something like, ‘Or maybe you’re just facing an afternoon with a colicky baby…’  I was so relieved when he said that because, as I told him afterwards, I was sitting there thinking ‘Oh, I had a canyon moment the other day in Marks and Spencer’s.’  I have had serious problems and frightening times in my life of course, but usually the day-to-day struggles I have seem a bit unimpressive.  They involve the minutia of my children’s hearts. And, worse still, my own heart!  And I can end up wondering whether I’ve lost all perspective.  Sometimes I do lose perspective of course, but if my day has been difficult because I’ve spent it with three willful, beautiful, cruel, generous, sinful, glorious children, then that’s OK!  God knows it’s hard, and his glory is there in the middle of the mess.   I don’t need to go to the Isle of Lewis to see God’s glory in creation, because my flat is full of it.

And how can I respond to this God who cares when my discipline method fails again, or my daughter surprises me with her kindness, or my baby crawls across the room for the first time?

‘LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!’ (Psalm 8, v 9).

Dickens on Kids

Order! Order!


I went on our church’s weekend away last weekend.  It’s only the second one we’ve ever had, and it was absolutely smashing.  Not flawless, but certainly a little foretaste of the new creation.  God’s community; God’s word; beautiful weather.

We were learning about God from Genesis, Chapters 1 to 3.  I expect you’ve read those chapters, or at least have an idea what they’re about.  You may feel you’ve ‘done them to death’ (not the ideal expression), but we can always learn more from God’s word.  And as my circumstances change, I find God graciously teaching me new things from familiar bits of Scripture.

As you’ll know if you’re a parent (or ever speak to one), much of what you do when you’re caring for children is repetitive.  Phyllis Diller said ‘Cleaning your house while children are growing is like shovelling your driveway while it’s still snowing.’  My children follow me around the flat, undoing the work I’ve done.  Yesterday I did some cleaning, and for a few minutes the kids’ bedroom and the living room were clean and tidy, so I took photos.  I sent the photos to my husband to show him what I’d achieved, because I knew that by the time he got home the work would have been largely undone.

Other times, you do manage to create order in a little part of your home, but it goes pretty much unnoticed.  You tidy a shelf in a cupboard, or you sort out your husband’s sock drawer.  You may (as I do) feel you’ve won a little victory, but that moment of triumph makes no difference to the pile of washing up there is still to do in the kitchen.  Sometimes you can feel that your hard work just seems to have been wasted.

So what does Genesis 1 have to say about all of this?

‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.  God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness.’ Genesis 1, 1-4.

Before God spoke the light into being (feel free to ponder that mind-blowing fact for a moment or two!), the world was formless.  Like a lump of clay that hasn’t been yet fashioned into anything, it wasn’t any use.  Not only that, but the ‘darkness’ and ‘the deep’ are symbolic of chaos.  Chaos is not funny in the Bible; it’s not a word used to describe messy play or pancake day.  It’s dangerous.

So what does God do?  He creates order.  He separates.  Creating order and structure are good things to do; they’re godly things to do.

Depending on your personality and gifts, you might love order and structure, or you might not.  God has made each of us different, and that should be celebrated.  I have friends who run their homes with military precision, and I have friends who just ‘go with the flow.’  And don’t worry, I’m not saying that Genesis 1 commands you to go now and organise your child’s bookshelf or make a cleaning rota for yourself.   What encouraged me was that God separated the night from the day.  So even when we separate our day up, we are doing a good thing.  “It’s breakfast time!”  “It’s bath time!”  “It’s quite play time!” (Worth a try?)  So if you’re a bit of a ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ type parent, then please be encouraged that as you structure your day you are behaving a bit like God, in whose image you’ve been created.  And if you spend a lot of time organising things and creating order in your home, but nobody really notices, please remember that God appreciates order.

I probably should mention, that there is a challenge or here to us, too.

Some of us might be tempted to find our refuge in organisation.  These are the mums who, on maternity leave, felt their world was falling apart because they no longer had any structure to their day.  Structure feels safe; structure makes us feel we’ve achieved something.  This is my tendency, although by organised I do not mean tidy.  I like to have my admin sorted, but picking stuff up off the floor is a different kettle of fish.  So I need to remember that whether my day has structure or not, God is my refuge; God gives me significance; God satisfies me.

Others of us might rather not have order.  We feel stifled by structure.  We love spontaneity and we don’t like to plan.  I suppose for those parents, it’s good to remember that God actually is a God of order, so it’s not something to avoid as though it’s going to trap us and make us feel powerless.  I recently heard someone say that she felt that planning was a bad thing, because if you don’t plan you rely on God more.  I will now resist the temptation to write 2000 words on why I disagree, and instead will just say that in order to be good stewards of the time and money God has given us, we probably do need to have some structure and planning in our lives.  Even if that just means writing a shopping list today for tonight’s tea.

(An aside: my husband is from an impulsive, spontaneous family and I am from a plan-ahead family, and thanks be to God he has kept us happily married for eight and a half years!  We are learning, by God’s grace, the benefits of each other’s way of doing things!)

Have you noticed that your kids love structure too?  My children certainly know when it’s breakfast time!  Whether you’re a demand feeder or a Gina-Ford-Handbook wielder, your day will have structure.  And in my days as a secondary school teacher, I saw how much the children I taught felt safe in a structured environment.  For some of them, school was the only place where they knew where they stood and what was happening next.  So the next time you tell your children that it’s lunchtime soon, or bedtime was half an hour ago, or that we don’t get undressed at the dinner table, I hope you’ll remember that you’re blessing your children, and you can thank God for that.

Book Review Alert: ‘Compared to Her…’

Hello friends, sorry I haven’t written in a couple of weeks.  I have at least one post swimming around in my head, but haven’t had the time or energy to get it down in a coherent way.  In the meantime, though, please hop over to Good Reads if you’d like to learn about a brilliant, short, Biblical, short, helpful and potentially life-changing book.  Oh and I should tell you (because I know if you’re a mum that this blog post might be the first thing you’ve had time to read in about eight days) that it’s nice and short.  Hope to write again soon!

Quick, Quick, S l o w


‘Which best describes you?  a) You like to get things done, or b) You like to know that everyone’s getting on well’
I said ‘b’ because surely people are more important than tasks!
My Mum-in-law (who knows me too well) said, ‘Really?  Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course.’

Since that conversation I’ve often looked back and admitted regretfully, ‘No, I should have said ‘a’.’  I’d like to think that, in a house full of guests, I’d be content just to know everyone was having a good time and enjoying each other’s company.  But really, I’d be mentally totting up the jobs that need doing in preparation/clear-up.  And when I can tick something off my list, that’s what gives me a buzz.  I think in personality-test-world this is called ‘Task oriented.’  Sigh.  Now don’t get me wrong, I know we need task-oriented people in order to get things done, and thankfully I have many relationship-oriented people around me so I think we do OK.  But that’s not why I’m harping on about this.

I recently wrote a post about making sure you have a quiet time (Fight for your Life) and since then I was blessed to hear some teaching on why we don’t do quiet times.  One reason stood out to me because it applied to me and I’d never thought of it before (my dullness (aka stupidity) never ceases to amaze me).  He said that sometimes we don’t do quiet times because we don’t have the patience.  If I read my Bible at 10am, I probably won’t see the results by 10.45.  So, if I’m honest, I find it hard to see the point.  It takes too long, the results aren’t usually tangible, I can’t really tick anything off my list, so it just gets shoved down my priority list along with phoning my great aunt and going for a coffee with that eccentric lady at church.  I know, I’m a wretch.

This isn’t just a 21st Century problem.  Look at Mary and Martha in Luke 10:

38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Jesus knows I’ve got many things to do.  But let’s get our priorities right.  Mary chose what is better.  I need to sit down and shut up.  I need to read my Bible and hear the Lord speak to me.

God is so kind that he forced me into this the other day.  I was feeling really stressed and wound up because I had lots to do and I didn’t think I had enough time.  And to top it all off, I had to go to the dentist.  Thankfully a kind friend offered to look after my younger children for me, and she told me not to bother coming home again in between the appointment and the school pick-up.  Then the dentist appointment only took five minutes, so I had 45 minutes to spare before I had to be at the school gate.  What to do?  The only thing I could do, friend – I went to Starbucks and read.  For the first ten minutes or so I was still on edge.  But as I sat there reasoning that I couldn’t do anything else anyway so I might as well just try to calm down and read, I slowly started to unwind.  Heck, I really enjoyed myself.  And I went home feeling much calmer and generally less crazy.  Sometimes I whip myself into a frenzy, and reading the Bible gives me the perspective I need to go back to my to-do list and realise that the world will not end if I don’t get it all done today (well it might, but the two will be unrelated).

Again, I do know that task-oriented people are not bad, but there’s no way I need to remind myself to be more task oriented!  If you, however, are completely the opposite and never get anything done, all the while getting on marvellously with everyone, then you probably can’t relate to this!  However, if you are a bit like me (but maybe less frantic and a bit nicer), I hope you’ll be encouraged.  Relationships take time, don’t they?  We know that because our kiddiwinks demand so much of our time (or friends/family if you’re not a parent).  Sometimes you do have to abandon the chopping board in favour of a jigsaw, or let the wet washing sit a bit longer so you can listen to your child’s long-winded account of the day.  And you know that’s right.  Nobody gets to the end of their life and thinks, ‘I wish I’d hoovered more often.  Once a fortnight just wasn’t enough.’  But the time you spend now with your kids will be paying off for decades, and even generations to come.  How much more so, then, with your time spent with the Lord?  I want to look through the photo albums in my old age and say, ‘Yes, we never did paint the kitchen or put up that garden fence!’ and then sing another song about Jesus.  So I’m going to try to slow down, and choose what’s better.  I hope you’ll join me.



This week I’ve been looking at 1 Samuel 8, where the people of Israel ask Samuel, the prophet, for a king, ‘such as all the other nations have.’  In case we missed it, they say it again later: ‘We want a King over us, then we shall be like all the other nations.’  They had the unique honour of being God’s chosen people, set apart from the other nations.  But here, they’re looking around and they decide they want to ditch God and be like the other nations: ‘they have rejected [the LORD] as their King.’  It’s just astonishingly ungrateful, rebellious and, well, stupid.  The Lord has shown them over and over that he’s the one who provides for them and fights for them, but they’d rather trust in something else instead – be it a box (the ark), a foreign god or, now, a human king. 

One reason for their rejection of the Lord seems to be a sort of peer pressure.  They look around them at all the other nations, and they feel very small and very different.  I suppose this feeling is what many of our children might experience when they’re with unbelievers, be it at school or anywhere else.  In his excellent commentary on 1 Samuel, Dale Ralph Davis quotes Alexander Maclaren: 

‘One of the first lessons which we have to learn… is a wholesome disregard of other people’s ways.’ (p.88)

I don’t know about you, but in my gut there lurks a fear my children will be more influenced by their peers and teachers than by us, their parents.  From seemingly little things such as which trainers to wear and which scooter to scoot, right up to, I suppose, whether or not to take drugs and jump of a balcony (argh!), peer pressure is always going to be a part of children’s lives. 

I’m so thankful that, as yet, my four-year-old seems naively unaware of the issues of fashion and what’s cool, but I know that, eventually, all kids want to fit in.  I remember it well myself – the desperate desire to be doing the right thing, listening to the right music, saying the right words.  I was terrified of being noticed for the wrong reasons.  I wish I’d known then that it’s actually OK – even a good thing! – to stand out from the crowd.

So I’m going to be asking God our Father to help my kids to know that, actually, they don’t need to fit in because they are always welcome in the Kingdom of God.  They’re always noticed for the right reasons.  They’re always accepted; always loved; always understood.  One of the reasons I treasure my church family is that they give my kids that kind of security.  And I hope and pray that as they see this lived out through God’s people, my children would know that it’s just a shadow of the love and acceptance they have from their Heavenly Father.  Then, even if we can’t afford a Nintendo DS or we’re the only ones not going to the Halloween party, that won’t consume them because they’ll know that their identity is in Christ. 

So I can pray, and I can teach my children this stuff, but there’s another thing I really should do.  Yep, there it is!  Live it out! 

Peer pressure – remember that teenage problem?  Oh hang on, you mean like the pressure to put my children’s education first, to get on the property ladder, to go on nice holidays, to keep up with the latest fashions and music trends, to dress my kids nicely, to have a clean and tidy home, to go back to work and fulfil my “true potential”, to spend my weekends taking my children from ballet to swimming lessons, to go to the gym..?  This pressure to conform to a certain standard will look different depending on your culture and background, but whether it bothers us or not I think we all experience it to some degree.  Some of us don’t mind standing out, but even so we are bombarded daily by the idolatry of our society.

I think 1 Samuel 8 should teach us to be on our guard.  The values of the culture around us can easily creep into the church, and before we know it our Christian community is putting their trust in something other than the Lord, such as success in education, or job security, or having nice stuff.  (These are very Western examples, so please forgive me if you can’t relate to them!)

We have made decisions as a family which make absolutely no sense to our friends who aren’t believers in the Lord Jesus Christ.  Of course!  And so we try to avoid their mystified, sometimes offended and occasionally angry gazes, and plough on.  That can be hard enough, but even amongst the Christians we know we’ve had some rather awkward conversations about the choices we’ve made for our family.  And don’t get me wrong, we’re not exactly radicals – I wish we were!   But some things, especially when children are involved, can be seen as just taking this Christian thing a bit too far.

So what I’m trying to say is that, naturally, we’re like the Israelites.  We want to fit in, and we’re inclined to put our trust in whatever those around us are trusting in.  And if I’m not battling against that inclination, then how can I expect my kids to want to stand out for Jesus?  And what an honour it is to do that.  Look at Israel – The Lord had made them a people; rescued them out of Egypt, and brought them into the Promised Land.  Why wouldn’t they want to stand out?  But how much more should we desire to be different, to stand out for our King Jesus?  Think of all He’s done for us, rescuing us from slavery to sin, and fighting for us the battle we could never win – against death!  How can we look to anything else to provide for us and protect us?  I’m so thankful that we have the Spirit in us, giving us that desire to keep turning from idols and trusting in the Lord.  And let’s keep reminding each other what a privilege it is to be children of God.  Here’s how Peter puts it:

 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.  Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. 1 Peter 2:9-10.

How precious it is to be God’s people.  Let’s pray we’d set an example to our children, showing them that as the people of God we might not always fit in, but belonging to God is much better than belonging anywhere else. 

Learning to say ‘Thank You’

One day this will be a nostalgic image for me!

I’ve been excavating this week.  When you have your second or subsequent baby, you have to unearth all of the baby paraphernalia that you’d hidden under the bed/on top of the wardrobe/at your mum’s house.  It’s quite heartwarming in a way, because it takes you back to those early days with your older child(ren) which seem so long ago. But in other ways, it’s a tiny bit disheartening.  What I mean is, I find it really satisfying to get rid of stuff I don’t need anymore because I’ve moved on to a new stage.  So going back to the earlier stages and starting all over again can bruise my organisational ego.  I’ve realised that I often look forward to the day when I won’t need an entire kitchen cupboard dedicated to plastic crockery, sippy cups, bottles and baby food.  Or when I won’t need to buy kiddie snacks or dairylea slices, because the kids will eat what we eat (this may never happen but shhhh don’t tell me).  But even as I long for this I do have a sneaking suspicion that it’s not a very godly way to think.

Growing up I was always told, ‘Don’t wish your life away.’  I think that was because I always wanted to be about three to five years older than I was (those days are gone, I can assure you).  Although this isn’t a phrase from the Bible, it is wise advice.  Always pining for the next thing is really a recipe for discontentment.  While I’m longing for the days when I can have a serious conversation with my son, I’m missing the blessings of the here and now.  While I’m pining for the time when I won’t have to cadunk my buggy up the steps because my buggy will be long gone, I’m ignoring the beauty of cute babes in a pushchair.

I’m reading a really interesting book which has encouraged me massively – One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  Today I read this, as Ann recollects holding her sleeping daughter, the youngest of six children:

‘My baby is five… She is leaving me, she’s growing up and moving away from me, and she stirs and I sweep back the crop of golden ringlets.  Stay, Little One, stay.  Love’s a deep wound and what is a mother without a child and why can’t I hold on to now forever and her here and me here and why does time snatch away a heart I don’t think mine can beat without?’ (p. 160)

I felt so rebuked by this.  My eldest isn’t five yet, and I often wish she were just a bit older.  But I’m sure one day (maybe soon) I’ll turn around and mourn the loss of their early years.  That will also be discontentment of course!  So what’s the solution?  How do I enjoy the here and now; savour the moment?  Well, Voskamp’s book is all about thankfulness.  I know I should be thankful for today, but how?

One wonderful thing about being a parent of young children is that you have someone showing you how to live in the moment and enjoy the here and now, every single day.   Here are a few things my tots were excited about today (and these are just the ones they shouted about):

–       steam from a chimney

–       an aeroplane (many, many times, we live under the Heathrow flight path)

–       a blue van

–       ‘Sparkles’ (Actually the sunlight reflected in raindrops on a grey, dirty pavement)

I want to be more like that.  I want to be enchanted by the mundane and thankful for the ordinary.  If I can learn to do that, then I’ll start to focus on the beautiful things in my life, great and small, and to sideline the hard things that I can’t change.

At the end of a wearying day, I want to tell my husband every detail of the battles I’ve endured.  I don’t want to focus on the lovely things, because… hmmm, if I’m honest I don’t want him thinking I’ve had an easy day.  Then he might not sympathise with me.  If I tell him all the blessings, then who gets the glory?  Not me, of course, but the Lord, the giver.  I want this, and I don’t want it.  My new, spirit-filled heart wants to praise the Lord; it’s my sinful, self-centred self who wants to wallow in self-pity, ingratitude and dissatisfaction.

I’ve heard many times before that being thankful is a way to find joy and to be content.  But it seems so hard to do.  It is hard, but I’m realising that it’s a lesson to learn, and a lesson that takes time.  We can train ourselves to be thankful.  Ann Voskamp trained herself by writing one thousand things she loves, or in other words one thousand gifts she is thankful for.  I’ve started trying to do this myself.  I’m making quite slow progress, partly because I’m out of practice (I’ve never been in practice), and partly because I don’t have my notebook lying around all day (for fear of it being splattered/snatched/accidentally recycled), so I have to remember things and write them down later.  But even so, I can tell that God is gently changing me as I discipline myself to find the beauty in my life.

So may I encourage you now to try this – you don’t have to write it down or set yourself a target of course, but if you would like to find more joy, try learning to be thankful for the ‘now’ you’re in.  Maybe you live in a beautiful location, in which case your list will probably be full of natural beauty.  However, may I refer you to the title of this blog, and remind you that I live far away from wildlife (unless you count pigeons and the odd urban fox, which I absolutely do not!) or sweeping landscapes.  But there is still beauty in my life, and I’m learning to find it.  Here are ten items from my list so far, just to encourage you to give it a go:

7. Help up the stairs

10. Soft slippers on aching feet

16.  My children stopping at the road

20. Double glazing

23. A cup of tea by the bed

26. The listening ear of a friend

44. The kitchen bin, empty

60. The radio

62. The generosity of friends

111. Anaesthetic

Nothing spectacular I know, but they’re God’s gifts to me and it’s right that I thank him for them.  You can probably think of something more joy-filling than an empty kitchen bin, and I encourage you right now to thank God for whatever that is!

So I’m hoping, by God’s grace, that by cultivating a thankful heart, I will bring glory to God with my attitude, I’ll find joy, and I won’t get to the end of my life and realise I’ve spent it wishing I were somewhere else.

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18.