Funny Friday

Seeing as I seem to have gone AWOL from the blogging world, and promptly forgotten about Funny Monday after posting the first one, here's a Funny Friday.

As children do, over the years the girls have given various things cute misnomers. Here are some of the best.

"Ki-weed" (keaweed?) for kiwi.

"Hotscotch" for hopscotch.

"Sunbabe" for sunbathe.

"Thomas" for houmous.

And my all-time favourite, what they genuinely think the Golden Arches of Happy Meal fame are called:

"Old McDonald's".


Happy Bank Holiday weekend!

Don't worry... start mourning

I wonder how many times a day, a week, a month, you speak, or hear, the words, "don't worry"? Probably quite a few. Sometimes its use is entirely justified; we tend to spend a lot of time pointlessly worrying.

But sometimes those words can be thoughtless, inappropriate, or even unloving. Why do we tell people not to worry? Is it sometimes, perhaps, because we don't want to deal with the fact that they are going through something that there isn't an answer for? Something that actually requires us to stop and acknowledge that sometimes, a lot of the time, this life is full of sadness? Something that we can't "fix", and makes us feel sad too?

All too often we express the sentiment that when someone is struggling with something, it's a case of "mind over matter", that you "just have to get on". I know that when I get hung up on things that really don't matter and I'm blowing them out of proportion, these trite sayings can be applicable and relevant. But much of the time someone "getting on" isn't possible until those around them have stopped to acknowledge the reality of the pain and heartache they are going through and committed themselves to grieve it and endure it by their side.

It's not something a lot of us are comfortable doing. It requires us to stop pretending life's always ok, to drop the pretence that we're always fine, and ultimately it requires us to be sad too, at least for a time.

Matthew 5:4 reads,

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted".

What are we called to mourn here? We mourn our own sin and that of others. We mourn the devastation a sin-sick world suffers. We are called to grieve the terrible results of our own selfish hearts and the suffering that shows itself in every facet of the world around us.

This means that when my friend tells me her child has been diagnosed with a serious illness, the sentences I utter in response shouldn't start with the words "At least..." "Try not to worry" or "She's in the best hands". It means that if we know someone who is going through a divorce we don't just tell them it's all in God's plan. It means that if you have a relative who is going through the pain of infertility you don't just read out the verse that says it's for their good. We don't try and "fix" it first and foremost, because we can't.

No, we are called to mourn, and to mourn with them. To mourn the bodies that are mortal and frail, to mourn the torture of a broken family, to mourn the heartache of a barren womb. We must give validation to the legitimacy of people's pain in the midst of a fallen world.

What we mustn't do is tell them not to worry.

Worrying isn't the question in situations like this; mourning is. Feeling the devastation of utter grief is not the same as worrying. Difficult emotions are not in themselves a sign that someone isn't trusting God and don't warrant a call to "let go and let God". They are a sign that someone is being called through the refiner's fire, and that we must walk with them as much as we can.

It's hard, because it means shattering our comfortable, British illusion that life is good, that we can make it good and keep it good. That as long as we have the right house, the right money and the right family, we'll be ok. It means facing the reality that we have little control over events that can turn our world upside. It means accepting that any day, any week, any month, we could receive that diagnosis or lose that child.

It also means feeling, by proxy, a shadow of the feelings those close to us go through when they suffer. And that's not comfortable.

Today is "Good Friday", a day when we particularly remember Jesus Christ dying on the cross. All the sin of his people was heaped on him, his perfect body and soul turned rotten by our depravity.

If there was ever an occasion to mourn, it was that day at Calvary, watching an innocent man, the Son of God, being killed by the Romans having been betrayed by his own people. If there was ever a time to feel the pain, the grief, of a fallen world it was that dark afternoon when the source of life itself became death.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted".

But they will be comforted. Why? Because death wasn't the end for Jesus Christ. He came back to life, bringing the sure hope of new life forever for those who believe in Him.

We mourn now, but we will be comforted. The Cross gives us comfort even now as we know that despite the trials we go through, we have been saved from the very sin that is the root of those trials. But how much more we will be comforted in Heaven, when the cause of all our mourning is no more and the reason for our comfort is eternally present with us.

It would have been ridiculous to say to Jesus' followers (or even Jesus himself) at Golgotha, "Don't worry! He's coming back in a couple of days". The fact of his impending resurrection did not negate or cancel the seriousness of the sadness of Good Friday.

But thank God, "they will be comforted". Everyone has cause to mourn at one time or another. Life is hard. The Good News, and the reason it's called Good Friday, is that if we trust in Jesus, there's comfort to follow.

Ways Your Kids Cost You Money

You know you always hear that statistic about how a child costs 3 trillion pounds to raise until their 18^th birthday? Yes. Well, I never understood how that was possible until the last 5 years (*disclaimer: I still don’t think it’s possible if you’re not paying for childcare costs and/or don’t buy every single child-related item from Mamas & Papas).

Sure, we all recognise the fruit of our loins will need feeding, clothing, use some extra gas and electricity, need school uniforms and all that standard stuff. But I had no idea about the hidden costs involved in child-rearing.

Here are some of the ways our children have poked holes in our bank account.

• Breaking a next-to-new  iPod docking station by pulling the iPod out of it.
• Placing entire rolls of toilet paper right into the toilet bowl.
• Unravelling entire rolls of toilet paper and then placing the paper right into the toilet bowl.
• Learning to turn on light switches.
• Learning to turn on taps.
• Learning to use soap.
• Enjoying playing on the floor, causing every pair of jeans we own to wear through at the knees within a few months of purchasing.
• Slathering Sudocrem over items of clothing.
• Slathering sun lotion over items of clothing.
• Poking one PC-to-TV cable into another and snapping off its prongs so it doesn’t work properly.
• Emptying entire bottles of shampoo into the bath and then cackling at the bubbles.
• Insisting on saving poos for freshly changed nappies.
• Pushing all the extra buttons on the washing machine without my knowledge such as ‘7 rinse’ so the cycle takes approximately four hours longer.

People ask how I could have the patience to breastfeed and use cloth nappies; well, mainly it’s just a desperate attempt to offset the expense caused by the above shenanigans. I guess this is the part where I say “it’s a good job they’re cute”…

Please feel free to add your own.

Dads' Army

There’s one type of post that fills up my newsfeed a lot.

I’m not talking about adverts for raspberry ketones, threats to copy and paste this status -or-you-will-die-in-7-days or even pictures of cats.  

No, I’m talking about the mum posts. You know, the ones that go on about how awfully fantastic and amazing mums are, how our job is the hardest in the world and how we never get a break from our horrible annoying kids. Those ones.

I often wonder why there aren’t quite so many dad ones and I think there are three possible reasons why.

1) Dads are all rubbish.

2) Dads don’t like to shout about how fantastic they are as much as mums.

3) Dads aren’t as good at making memes.

But whatever the reason, I would like to just take a moment to acknowledge how hard dads all over the world work. Yes, I know, mums are the ones who tend to run the whole household, have 30 things in our head at once, organise the meals, pack for holidays, take the calls about the kids being sick, sort babysitters, arrange all the doctor’s appointments, write the lists, make sure everyone has clean clothes and food in their bellies… BUT, let’s not pretend that just because we do all that, dads don’t do anything.

There’s one particular dad I know. He leaves for work around 7 and works a long day. He arrives back home, gets straight into the most full-on part of the childcare: the time of the day where the kids are screaming, fighting and refusing to do anything you tell them. He does most of bathtime and bedtime and puts up with his grumpy wife who has run out of patience by the time he gets home.  He eats his tea, then carries on working for a few hours before hitting the sack and getting up with his alarm at 6.

He’s an Assistant Headteacher (with responsibility for Maths throughout the whole school) who is also a full-time Year 6 class teacher. The school has recently come out of Special Measures, and the kids are “spirited”. He is under pressure from the Government, the Governors, the Council, the rest of the Senior Leadership, the parents, the kids, the Academy, the media and Ofsted. With SATS coming up he faces the task of getting a bunch of feisty, lazy 11-year-olds to do well in tests that will reflect badly on him and not them if they don’t.

As the sole breadwinner in our family, he feels the pressure of providing for 5 people. That’s five human beings to feed, clothe, transport and the rest. And we don’t come cheap.

He also does nearly all the DIY, including fixing, glueing, putting together many, many IKEA flatpacks, refilling screenwash and mowing the lawn.

As a husband, according to society, he’s supposed to be the ideal modern man, taking responsibility for his share of the housework and childcare well as buying me flowers, chocolate and perfume at every opportunity and running me baths. I don’t expect this, but I know I do put him under pressure sometimes to be a “good husband”. And while I sometimes fall into the temptation of criticising him to others, I know he has barely spoken a bad word about me over the years.

As a deacon at our church, he’s responsible for overseeing “technology”; the running of the PA and recording system, the website and producing publicity for church events. He sometimes leads services, regularly leads Bible studies and occasionally preaches.

Now, this isn’t a complaint; we see all these things as blessings and privileges, and on the whole my husband enjoys them. And I’m conscious that there are many men who have harder jobs, work longer hours and are under more pressure. The point is that us “supermums” are often partnered by a “superdad”. And just because a superdad doesn’t always shake the clothes out before hanging them up or clean the shaving stubble up from around the sink doesn’t make them any less super.

Let’s appreciate them for a change. Instead of bandying around “useless men” jokes, let’s recognise that there is an army of fathers and husbands out there with their noses to the grindstone for other people. We’re honoured enough to know many of them ourselves.

Now who’s going to make the meme?

Funny Monday

Just to cheer us up on a Monday, I'm going to try and post a funny quote from one of my children each week.

This one is old but never fails to make me "lol", as they say.

Following an occasion on which my eldest (3 at the time) panicked that the congealed cereal on her chair was poo (it was in fact Weetabix), we had this exchange:

Me: "Isla, you need to change your pants"
Isla: "Whyyyyyy"
Me: "Because they've got poo on them"
Isla: "No they haven't! Let me see"
[inspects] "No, it's fine, it's just Weetabix"

Because we're worth it?

I've just read this article, which I was putting off because of the title.

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/vanessa-olorenshaw/maternal-care-politics-of-mothering_b_6882018.html

(For a start, it's not just mothers who are stay-at-home parents.)

It's a point of view I agree with on the whole, and I find it frustrating that stay-at-home parents are quite so devalued by the government currently. I would also love it if my own tax-free earning allowance could be transferred to my husband! I've seen online quizzes that attempt to calculate just how much a SAHM's job is worth, per annum.

But it's reassuring as Christians to know that our value as mothers doesn't come from the government, or society, or status, or a wage.

Our value as mothers comes from God. Just as he values every human being, he values us. And the Bible has much to say about women who were given little value by those around them in the circumstances they found themselves.

Mary, the mother of Jesus: a poor girl from Nazareth, chosen to grow, give birth to and raise the Son of God. No doubt as her pregnant belly grew, the comments and stigma from those around her did too. But God has chosen to pour out his blessing and favour on her.

The women who found Jesus had risen from the dead; running to tell their (male) friends, they were disbelieved; pah, they're women! What do they know? But God had chosen to reveal the risen Jesus to them first.

The poor widow who put her lowly offering into the collection box and was sneered at; Jesus praised her sacrificial spirit.

The woman who smashed an exorbitantly expensive jar of perfume and poured it over Jesus' feet out of love for him. The men berated her for such waste; Jesus berated them!

The list is endless. And it's not just confined to women; God's speciality is blessing the weak, the poor, the helpless and the stigmatised (we would do well to learn from this ourselves more often). The shepherds, for example, were the first to know of Jesus' birth - men who were certainly low down on the pecking order in Israel.

But there's another angle to this. The women I've mentioned above have one thing in common. They all loved God above all else. They made their love for him known even when it meant they were insulted and looked down upon. Because they knew it was worth it; He was worth it.

On a day (which let's face it is most of them) where I'm feeling tired and downtrodden, scraping food off the floor, pulling violent siblings apart and wiping poo off bottoms, I know that God has put me here, and that the work I am doing is His work. I know that God sees, and he values, and he blesses. Even when no one else does. What I am doing is of eternal worth, and what I am learning is of eternal joy. The challenge for me is to love God more, to know him more and to enjoy him more so that any feelings of resentment are dispelled by the sweet knowledge that my true fulfillment comes not in worldly worth or end of the drudgery, but my Saviour and my sure hope of Heaven. I'm pretty rubbish at this right now, as my husband and children will testify; my sure hope of Heaven often fades into the background as I sinfully erupt at the latest cup of spilled water, clump of hair held spitefully in a sister's hand or paint spattered around every corner of the room...

So the next time I start to question how much I'm worth, I am going to try and remember that it's not because I'm worth it... it's because He's worth it.

Creamy cheese burgers

Sometimes my kids ask for the most ridiculous things. The first ray of sunshine is seen on a winter’s day and they’re demanding to get the paddling pool out and eat ice cream. They wake up and ask for chocolate for breakfast. They’re about to go to bed and they want to go to soft play, RIGHT NOW. They want to get out of the car because they’re bored when we’re in the middle of the M1.

I’ve sometimes struggled with the idea that God wants us to pray “according to his will”. So we pray in line with his promises and his will, and he will answer our prayers; isn’t that a little… narrow-minded? True, I’ve experienced the wonderful fulfilment of these promises over the years. There’s no doubt about that. I’ve prayed for patience; I’ve been given patience. I’ve prayed to be enabled to pray more; He’s answered. I’ve asked for strength and grace to get through a tough day with the children; He never fails. These have been prayers “according to His will”.

But I admit that I’ve struggled to enjoy this facet of our Heavenly Father at times. I’ve found it difficult to feel joy that my prayer requests must be constrained by His will and not mine.

Today God gave me a deeper, sweeter understanding of this.

I was walking with my 3-year-old last week and she said,

“Mumma, at Christmas we had creamy cheese burgers.”

“Creamy cheese burgers? Really?” [I rack my brain to translate before the rage ensues]

“Creamy cheese burgers. And Auntie Beth and Uncle Josh were here.”

“Ohhhhhh. Cream cheese bagels!”

“Yeah. Can we have them next Christmas?”

“Sure. We can have them any time. I’ll get some next week!”

So today we all had “creamy cheese burgers” for breakfast. And it was a joy to be able to give my daughter something she had asked for, that I was totally able and happy to give. Cream cheese and bagels are pretty healthy foods that will help them grow and give them energy. They’re good for breakfast. They’re not expensive (especially not at Aldi). We all enjoy them.

It was a pleasure to answer her request, because it fitted with all my desires to give my children the best, based on what I know is good for them.

And that made me realise: praying in accordance with God’s will is not some narcissistic, arbitrary rule set in place to restrict us. Praying in accordance with God’s will means asking for things that He loves to give us, because they are good for us and He knows they are best. And that in itself brings him glory, because it magnifies his beautiful, powerful character.

Sometimes we ask for chocolate cake for breakfast – stuff that’s not even good for us. Sometimes we ask to get out of a moving car and he graciously says “no”. Sometimes we ask for ice cream on a hot day, and He gives it to us, because He loves to surprise us with His good gifts. Sometimes He gives when we haven’t even asked for it.  And sometimes, we ask for creamy cheese burgers, and He always says “yes”. And I think I understand a bit more of our Heavenly Father today thanks to a 3-year-olds innocent request.

Luke 11:11-13

“What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent;  or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”