Today is Friday. I love Fridays, mostly because I can stay up late and not feel guilty about it. :) I also love to sleep, and Saturday mornings has always been my sleeping-in time. Finally, I love my husband. Even more than Fridays and sleeping in. So a new pattern is emerging in my life. I'm heading to bed earlier on Friday nights, so that I don't need to sleep in as much on Saturday, so that Big Man can get up early and go to our garden allotment without feeling guilty about making me get up to watch Little Man See how that works? Well, it does on the good days, anyway. Tonight, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so I would like to sleep in tomorrow, but Big Man has had a crazy week, and really needs his time in the dirt tomorrow. :)
Little Man and I went with Big Man to the allotment for the first time last week, and it was a lot of fun. Big Man has been 'allotmenting' for several months now - we bought into a plot already being worked by several of our friends at college. He really enjoys having a hobby that he gets to do with friends. He's the allotment handyman, as well, and has put a ton of hard work into getting the plot cleaned up, built up, and in shape. The people who had our plot before us pretty much trashed the place. All manner of glass, wood, metal, plastic, and any other kind of non-degradable debris has been turned up by the shovels and spades. This is one reason that Little Man has only just now made his first visit - it wasn't safe to turn him loose at first.
Little Man spent three hours basically digging for worms in one of the planting beds. And my word, did he ever find some! At one point, he came over to me with his hands cupped together, holding a heaping, overflowing, wriggling pile of worms--pink, grey, green, and brown ones. Quite a sight to behold. I only wish I'd had my camera with me! I was reminded over and over again of the book I read as a girl, How to Eat Fried Worms. Eeeeeeewwwwww! I'm sure Little Man will love that book.
I spent my time, not only oooohing and ahhhhing over Little Man's latest worm find, but also weeding a bed of leeks. My dad often put us on weed detail in his garden when I was a girl, and I hated it. This wasn't much better, if I'm honest. The work itself, anyway. I'm not good at weeding; I leave behind too many little bits, and can't always get the roots out. Big Man even said I need a weeding tutorial from Peter, one of our allotment partners. :D It was made infinitely more enjoyable, though, by the fact that, instead of my big brother chucking dirt clods at me, my friend Deirdre was in the next bed, also weeding, and occasionally exclaiming over a potato discovery, and chatting with me about gender identity and other fun things. (Though, I miss my brother enough right now that I'd let him chuck those dirt clods again if it meant he was in the garden with me.)
So tomorrow, I will get up and play with Little Man, who is also feeling a little under the weather, instead of sleeping in or even allotmenting with Big Man. And my husband will come home later in the morning absolutely filthy, but happy, and carrying yummy fresh veg, and satisfied with a good thing in his life. And that is worth a few hours of sleep!
Friday 18 September 2009
Friday 11 September 2009
New friends
Tonight we capped off a very busy week with dinner with our new friends. Paul and Diana are here in Manchester now, volunteering at the college. Paul is working with Big Man, and so we wanted to have them over for dinner as soon as we could.
It is always such an encouraging thing to me when new friends just seem to 'click'. It's a reminder to me of how the unity we have in Christ can do so much of the work for us, initially, in relationships. In these cases, it seems our common ground of faith and the shared Spirit make things so easy; it becomes obvious after only a few hours together that here are some kindred spirits. Now, I am not naive enough to believe this happens with all Christians; I know from experience that it doesn't always. But it happens often enough to make me think about why.
In fact, that has been the overwhelming experience of our move to Manchester. So very, very many of the people we've met here have been kindred spirits, immediately and obviously. It's as though the Lord came ahead of us and prepared just the right people to embrace us and welcome us into their lives. And why am I so surprised by that? It's exactly what we prayed for as we were preparing to come. And it's what He desires for His Church, after all, unity of spirit and friendship.
So tonight, in spite of all the stress that I am purposefully trying to ignore as it piles higher and deeper at the beginning of the semester, I praise the Lord for His goodness and mercy in loving us through His Church.
It is always such an encouraging thing to me when new friends just seem to 'click'. It's a reminder to me of how the unity we have in Christ can do so much of the work for us, initially, in relationships. In these cases, it seems our common ground of faith and the shared Spirit make things so easy; it becomes obvious after only a few hours together that here are some kindred spirits. Now, I am not naive enough to believe this happens with all Christians; I know from experience that it doesn't always. But it happens often enough to make me think about why.
In fact, that has been the overwhelming experience of our move to Manchester. So very, very many of the people we've met here have been kindred spirits, immediately and obviously. It's as though the Lord came ahead of us and prepared just the right people to embrace us and welcome us into their lives. And why am I so surprised by that? It's exactly what we prayed for as we were preparing to come. And it's what He desires for His Church, after all, unity of spirit and friendship.
So tonight, in spite of all the stress that I am purposefully trying to ignore as it piles higher and deeper at the beginning of the semester, I praise the Lord for His goodness and mercy in loving us through His Church.
Thursday 10 September 2009
I've been intending
Ok, so I'm about 5 years late in jumping on the blogging bandwagon. After all, what do I have to say that is worthy of the time anyone might spend to read it on a regular basis? On the other hand, there have been many moments in recent weeks when I've thought, "Oh, that could be something I could blog about." My next thought is always, "Just put it in a journal, Sarah." But my many attempts at journaling through the years have never proven successful. I'm really not sure why this is going to stand any better chance. We'll chalk it up to my eternal optimism. :)
I used to write updates about our move to England, but having been here almost two years now, that seems kind of presumptuous. It isn't as though we're missionaries keeping in contact with our supporters. Still, I know our parents, at least, would like to read occasional notes about our life here. And, as long as I'm having "I should blog about that!" thoughts, why not try it out?
My bloggable thought for this morning is how quickly good intentions get derailed. I was telling myself all morning as I was getting dressed, etc., that I needed to spend 10 minutes in silence when I first got to my office this morning (more about why later). Well, as I was attempting to unlock and open my 100-year-old office door--which I know is always a two-hand job, but I keep trying to manage with just one--my lunch bag took a dive onto the floor, and the soup escaped its container and managed to baptize everything else in the lunch bag. So, after an hour and a half of telling myself to do something, 10 minutes of cleaning up that mess sent the intended silence right out of my mind!
Now here I am almost three hours later and still no silence. Last night I led our discipleship group at church, and we talked about the sermon text from Sunday, Matthew 11:28-30, "Come to me all you who are weary..." We spent the whole evening discussing rest, stillness, and being yoked with Jesus, and our 'homework' for the week is to spend 10 minutes in restful silence and listening every day. We did a couple of practice runs together as a group--it was not surprising to me how many people were uncomfortable sitting in silence. I have enjoyed doing this ever since my first experience in a workshop at the Wesleyan/Holiness Women Clergy conference in Colorado Springs. But somehow, even though I always find it a wonderful time, I have failed to incorporate it into my regular routine.
Intentions, intentions. I've intended to write in a journal many, many times over the years, and haven't kept it up. I've intended to give time to silence and listening to God many, many times over the years, and haven't kept it up. I intended to spend 10 minutes in silence first thing this morning, and didn't. (My track record may suggest that beginning a blog is a hopeless cause!) But I will never forget what Pastor Brian at Trinity told us one week: it's called 'practicing the faith' for a reason, because it takes practice. You don't just try to run a marathon; you train to run a marathon. Likewise, you don't just try to live a life of faith; you train to live a life of faith. So this week, another training session, and off I go into silence. I'll let you know how it goes.
I used to write updates about our move to England, but having been here almost two years now, that seems kind of presumptuous. It isn't as though we're missionaries keeping in contact with our supporters. Still, I know our parents, at least, would like to read occasional notes about our life here. And, as long as I'm having "I should blog about that!" thoughts, why not try it out?
My bloggable thought for this morning is how quickly good intentions get derailed. I was telling myself all morning as I was getting dressed, etc., that I needed to spend 10 minutes in silence when I first got to my office this morning (more about why later). Well, as I was attempting to unlock and open my 100-year-old office door--which I know is always a two-hand job, but I keep trying to manage with just one--my lunch bag took a dive onto the floor, and the soup escaped its container and managed to baptize everything else in the lunch bag. So, after an hour and a half of telling myself to do something, 10 minutes of cleaning up that mess sent the intended silence right out of my mind!
Now here I am almost three hours later and still no silence. Last night I led our discipleship group at church, and we talked about the sermon text from Sunday, Matthew 11:28-30, "Come to me all you who are weary..." We spent the whole evening discussing rest, stillness, and being yoked with Jesus, and our 'homework' for the week is to spend 10 minutes in restful silence and listening every day. We did a couple of practice runs together as a group--it was not surprising to me how many people were uncomfortable sitting in silence. I have enjoyed doing this ever since my first experience in a workshop at the Wesleyan/Holiness Women Clergy conference in Colorado Springs. But somehow, even though I always find it a wonderful time, I have failed to incorporate it into my regular routine.
Intentions, intentions. I've intended to write in a journal many, many times over the years, and haven't kept it up. I've intended to give time to silence and listening to God many, many times over the years, and haven't kept it up. I intended to spend 10 minutes in silence first thing this morning, and didn't. (My track record may suggest that beginning a blog is a hopeless cause!) But I will never forget what Pastor Brian at Trinity told us one week: it's called 'practicing the faith' for a reason, because it takes practice. You don't just try to run a marathon; you train to run a marathon. Likewise, you don't just try to live a life of faith; you train to live a life of faith. So this week, another training session, and off I go into silence. I'll let you know how it goes.
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