Category Archives: General

The Wall: beaches

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Remember my wall? I realised as I was looking at it the other day that there was still lots on the wall to be shared. So today, I’ll share not a quote but some of the photographs on the wall.

The picture there is of 2 pictures. The one on the left, my friend took of me just before I was about to attempt a cartwheel on the dunes of Balmedie Beach at sunrise on the Summer Solstice. The picture on the right, I took a few weeks later at the White Sands of Morar.

Beaches mean a lot to me, and I’m not entirely sure why. I can’t remember ever being on a beach and not being able to gain a sense of clarity over mixed up emotions or thoughts. They have always been a place where I feel most alive and a place where I feel more able to communicate with God.

During my years at university, I began a quirky tradition where I would always try to cartwheel down a beach (I have never once been able to properly cartwheel). In fact, that I know of, this is closest thing to a decent cartwheel I’ve ever done:

Balmedie Beach and the Sands of Morar have particular significance for me. Balmedie was about a 20 minute-ish drive from my flat in Aberdeen. There were times while I was a student where I felt such huge anger or stress and I needed a place to vent that was better than my previous tactic of taking sharp objects to my arms or stomach. So at night I would get in my car, put on my ‘angry’ music mix tape, drive to Balmedie, get out of the car, run up the sand dunes and yell my head off. Sometimes I’d just scream into the wind, the way some people scream into a pillow when they are frustrated. Other times I’d yell at God and tell Him exactly how I was feeling and why.

It feel good to let it all out.

Morar has a different kind of significance. The Lochaber area is where I went to hide from my exam results after I’d quit high school. At the time, I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d already decided against going to a boarding school to do A Levels. While I was there, I reaggravated an ongoing  back injury I’d hidden from my dance teachers the previous term. When I had the abortion, I went back up there a few days after. I was feeling awful at the time, but somehow the peace gave me some kind of comfort. The day the picture was taken was several years later just after my graduation. Again I was feeling pretty bad from symptoms of (suspected) endometriosis, and was awaiting an appointment at the hospital for further testing. I’d been told a few months before that I probably would struggle to have children. Again, being in that area gave some kind of peace and comfort. It was like a place where I was able to get space from the normal everyday city life, think, reflect and gain some courage to go back and face things head on.

Now when I look at those pictures, I use them to help me imagine being back in those places.

Putting the emotions and thoughts out on the table.

Regaining clarity.

Receiving courage.

Leaving the rubbish behind.

Coming back stronger.

And if you’ve never taken the time to cartwheel down a beach…trust me, you can’t do it without smiling. Even when you end up falling in the sand. Next time you find yourself on a beach, do/attempt a cartwheel…then let me know!

 

My cure for insomnia…

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Since I was a teenager (at least!) I have had a lot of trouble with insomnia. When I moved back to Edinburgh (almost) 5 years ago, I discovered one of the issues – my body clock for whatever reason is not designed to have long sleeps before Midnight. 

When I was in high school I never got enough sleep due to the early mornings. If I went to bed early I would toss and turn and wake up all night long. I’d usually get to sleep a couple of hours before my alarm would go off. I found it so difficult to get up and most days if I managed to brush my hair before walking out the door to school, that was an accomplishment. If I got a wee bit of make up on, a massive achievement. If I had a shower and washed and dried my hair – award winning. 

Needless to say I was never the perfectly dressed made up teenage girl. And most of my classes found me head on my desk drooling as I failed to stay awake.  

My work in care was horrific. It was quickly established that I don’t function well if I’ve had to get up early. 7.30 a.m. shift start and I was walking into door frames, tripping over coffee tables and falling sideways (asleep) during handover. Even if I stayed awake all day exhausted, I would still not be able to sleep before Midnight to get up at 5.30 a.m. the next morning if I was on another early shift. 

I also quickly discovered that if I tried to go to sleep straight after coming home from work (so I’d get a good night’s sleep before going back in the morning) I would dream wildly. Again I’d wake up over and over. By morning I’d be more exhausted, anxious and feeling like crap.

And that my friends is when I discovered two things.

1. Gymnastics

If you want to know how I became a person that watched gymnastics once every four years to knowing who all the top gymnasts in the world are, NCAAs and all the latest gymnastic news…it’s all because of YouTube. I started watching gymnastics competitions, fluffs and interviews in bed to relax and escape.

And I’m quite happy if it results in dreams of me doing gymnastics. They are fun dreams!

2. American TV series

I do know that watching NCIS, The Mentalist or Without A Trace is not a good idea RIGHT before I go to sleep. Because then I think about it too much. But a bit of Cougar Town or Friends is just what I need. I don’t have to think about it. It’s fun. It’s mindless. Yes, it can be a little trashy, but my brain can switch off. In fact with help from a little sunlight (thank you longer days) and Cougar Town, I’ve been able to get to sleep a little earlier and get up a little earlier too. This morning I managed to make porridge AND do a load of laundry before I went to work. I showered, put make up and everything too. 

3. Stand Up Comedy

Again. Thank you YouTube. I think I need to get some DVDs too though. It’s chilled, and I love it. Though it does result in me having to save up a lot of money when the Edinburgh Fringe Festival rolls around each summer with the amount of comedians on my ‘gotta see’ list!

I realise that online loads of people will say you shouldn’t watch rubbish on TV. We should be reading books etc. Well, I do agree. But I also disagree. I need to be able to switch my brain OFF before I go to sleep. Not do something that gets my brain whirring with more thoughts. I love to read books during the day when I have time off. I love to spend evenings doing things like helping with Girl Guides, having dinner with friends, going to housegroup, going to the gym with friends. Or writing on my blog like I am just now. :)

So I hope you won’t judge my mindless TV viewing too much. 

Anyway, gymnastics rocks. It’s inspiring. I would probably eat tons more junk and not bother going to the gym at all if it wasn’t watching those athletes put the entire world to shame!!

A new look (again)

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I get bored of my blog at least a few times a year, and so this afternoon I decided to give it a new look and update some stuff.

Like the photos – since the one on my ‘about’ page was taken over 3 years ago and I’m about 20lb heavier and my hair is probably double the length now. And I wear different glasses.

I still love the avatar my friend Diane created for me so it’s now taking prominent place on the ‘about me’ page. I’ve also updated my ‘Causes’ and my blogroll since I’ve got 2 more friends that have started blogging. Points if you can spot the additions to my blogroll!

Hope you like the new look – do let me know what you think!

 

Things that keep you humble

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Many moons ago we established that I am prone to what used to be known as my ‘blonde moments’ but got renamed ‘malteser moments’ when I went brunette. I’ve had a few this week.

Last week I returned home one evening to discover I couldn’t get into my house with my key. The reason? The builders had locked our front door but left the key in the lock. Luckily, one of our builders was only just getting into his van and was able to use their back door key to go round and let me in.

The next day I wasn’t so lucky. I’d gotten home later. I had a horrible headache. The builders were gone. They’d left the key in the front door again. And the only key we had for our new back door was inside the house. Sadly (for this circumstance) our house is pretty burglar proof. No windows available to climb through. Thankfully I had credit on my mobile to call my Mum at work.

She had to look up the builders’ number.

For some reason the one she had was the builders’ sister.

Safe to say I was confused when she answered, and she was confused too!

Thankfully she gave me her brother’s number and I got through to him. By this time a hailstorm shower starts so I’ve taken shelter in my car.

1 hour and 15 mins later I finally got into my house thanks to a builder (not happy with his mate who had left the key in the front door right after he said ‘make sure no one has left the key in the front door‘) came to my rescue.

Suffice to say that at the weekend when I was home alone I was totally paranoid about the same thing happening again so I took our back door key on my keychain!

Monday morning comes, and I let the builders in at 8 a.m. and leave for work a hour or so later. It is snowing (yes, snowing) and pouring with rain and they have the front door wide open as they bring in building materials to the guest room.

As I walk out the front door, I yell ‘Now remember not to leave the key in the front door today!‘ and we all laugh, and I get soaked walking to the bus stop.

As I run off the bus and speed walk through the Old Town to my office I go to grab my keys so I have them ready. Sleet is being blown into my face and I’m soggy and cold. I know I have a day filled with clients, and looking forward to rushing home to pick up my car to head to my friends’ house for dinner.

But they aren’t there.

After teasing the builders about locking me out, I’ve now locked myself out of my car, house and workplace in one fail swoop.

Because I haven’t picked up my keys on my way out of the door.

In between appointments I’m frantically texting or calling friends that I can think of that could possibly go round and get my keys from the builders and live somewhere I can get to from work by bus easily. Unfortunately they are all otherwise engaged (and the one person who wasn’t I didn’t think to call forgetting that they wouldn’t be at work in school holidays).

So this is the solution I came up with.

Phoning the head builder to get the numbers of the builders in our house that day. As irony would have it, the one I get a hold of is the one who locked me out the previous week.

I get the builder to hide my main bunch of keys in my car.

And then we come up with a place to hide my spare car key so it 1) won’t get soaked in our lovely Spring weather 2) can’t be found by any potential thieves and 3) will be able to be found by me after work.

The chosen hiding place was a little complicated but I think quite ingenious. I’d tell you, but then I might have to kill ya! ;)

As we’re having this conversation, Sarah is sitting on the other side of the office laughing.

This is a malteser moment of the finest degree, but also where watching NCIS came in really handy.

Thankfully the rest of the week has been mostly malteser moment free, until tonight when I slammed the door of my fridge closed without taking my fingers away from the ?door frame? of the fridge.

In the process I knocked a glass jar of pesto over with a few other food items which clanged loudly on the floor, and I yelled a curse word out (it HURT!) and I’m sad to say no one came running because the other residents of the house were busy arguing over bathroom tiles. Glad I was in any life threatening situation then.

I gave my finger a good bash. Kinda ironic given how often I’m saying ‘Fingers!’ and ‘Watch your fingers!’ to various kiddles every time I see them placing them remotely close to any doors.

Once the bathroom tile drama was over, I did eventually get some sympathy from my mother when she saw my finger.

All I can say is thank God for spare keys and frozen peas.

Oh, and friends that give me keyrings as gifts enabling our builders to easily identify which of the keys were mine.

:)

 

The story behind the ink…

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I realise a few people have not pieced together the what or why of my tattoo. On Tuesday evening I was at my friends’ home having dinner and we were reflecting on where life has taken us over the last 5 years. We were talking about the tattoo, as I had shown my friends Kathy & Vicky the design on my birthday. They know the journey because they were my sisters who supported me through it.

It all began 3 years ago.

I was down at a church in Watford with about 300 others to get our training and team building for going to South Africa a few months later. At the time, I had an infection in my gum which was causing my jaw to freeze or click out of place a lot. Near the end of the day, a guy felt God was saying to him that a few of us needed to be specially commissioned to for our trip, and one of those people had a problem with their jaw, and it had stemmed from a gum infection on bottom left molar.

Pretty specific. And no way I could deny I fitted the description.

I went forward, and some women prayed for me, and as soon as they begun praying I fell back onto the floor. No one pushed me, I hadn’t fainted and I hadn’t done it voluntarily!

While on the floor I had a vision of a woman wearing red, I sensed she was south African, and heard a word. I assumed it was a name at the time. (I later googled it, but I’d spelled it wrongly!)

Over the next few months, every obstacle believable stopped me from getting South Africa. To the point where my Mum said to me ‘There’s so much going wrong, maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t be going, maybe if you go you’re going to get killed or raped or something’. 

To list the ones I remember: My passport application being denied 3 times (because of the photos), my payment not going through as my references got lost in transit, almost being denied a place because of food allergies, my team host getting ill so my original team had nowhere to go, getting a sinus infection and not  being able to get my second set of vaccines when I was supposed to, extra bills and debts…Even the day before we departed there had been a terrorist alert and Edinburgh airport had been shut for several hours. Oh, yeah, and finding out that my Dad was in court and could go to prison while I was in South Africa.

But I got there. And it turned out God had reasons for some of it.

On our second day while in the minibus during our orientation, I asked Calvin (an intern in the church) and Ntuks (a young pastor) if they knew anyone in with this name or if it was a word they knew.

‘Do you mean themba?‘ they asked

I said I guess that’s what I meant.

‘It’s a Zulu word – it means faith or hope or love’.

I was floored.

On Day 7 I injured my knee, and on Day 8 I was hopping around the Seed of Hope centre and was struggling to join in as we taught a song that became the kids favourite. The premise of the song is based around the story of Noah and the ark, and how to show God’s promised convenant with his people he puts a rainbow across the sky.

That day we came out, to find a rainbow across Bhekuwandle.

The next day, I met my woman in red.

At the time the blog readers who knew the story from March were leaving me tweets and comments about whether I’d met ‘the woman in red’ yet. So I was relieved she did exist! And that what I shared with her was an answer to something she had been praying about for a while.

After that, I wanted to remember what God did that year. Not only in asking me to trust Him that I was meant to go to South Africa, but the fact that I have no other explanation how a woman who had no knowledge of Zulu language could fall the ground, hear a random word, it turn out to be quite  a poignant meaning and in Zulu and be told something and see someone in a vision who she’d never met before then meet her 4 months later in another country.

It was bizarre.

And I wanted to remember.

Because there are days when I question my beliefs and think I’m totally mad. There are days when I wonder if God exists, then where the heck is He? (I actually think Kevin Bridges theory on this at 8:16 is more accurate than he maybe realises). Shitty things happen in life and I have no answers for why one person dies tragically and someone else experiences a medical miracle or by chance ends up not being in the plane they should have been on that crashed.

I just know there is always, always hope that good will come out of the crap.

I trust in that.

An extra bit to this story that made me feel a little bit emotional when I went to get my inking done is that on Tuesday evening, a friend of mine – in fact one of the people who supported me in getting to South Africa those years ago – text me to say that her friend’s daughter had died very suddenly with no explanation to why.

It’s difficult to trust in faith, hope or love when you hear news like that.

But I’ve seen the resilience that themba brings to people who have faced unimaginable pain and heartbreak.

And so now, I’ll always be reminded.

Even when I don’t want to be reminded – it’ll still be there.

Inked on my skin.

Trust. Hope. Faith. Love.

Themba.

 

Inked

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Well. This morning was mental. Builders arriving talking and then Mum springs on me “Can you give me a lift to work?”. Folks I’m standing in our half-finished kitchen in my pyjamas eating porridge. With plans to shower, shave my legs, do my make up before I go to meet my friend to get lunch prior to the inking event.

Instead it’s deodorant wipes out my gym bag, throw on some clothes and sit in traffic because it’s not enough to have trams in Edinburgh. We need to dig up and close roads all over parts of the city too. Like the road to my Mum’s office.

Then on the while I’m on the bus (having dumped my car, applied a little bit of make up and ran back out the door), I get a call from the Body Art place to say that my appointment needs to be changed to a different guy and earlier.

At this point my heart sinks – my careful planning is going to pot. ARRRGGH.

Turns out, it was a good thing. The artist I would have had doesn’t let anyone in the room with you. The one I got allowed my friend Cat to come in the room with me (as we were in a room where two people can get tattoos done at the same time, and I was the only one getting my tattoo done).

Getting the design finalised – Rob is fixing the font so the letters are better spaced out.

Getting all antiseptic-ed and ready for the transfer to go on!

transfer template going on…

 Are you ok with it? If so…this is it…

And after looking and saying yes…

I held onto my friend’s hand.

The same hand I held onto when I got my navel pierced many years ago.

You can also see my mini Lindt easter bunny I had in case I fainted for a sugar boost.

I did NOT enjoy the sound of the tattoo gun. It shares similarities with a dentist drill. At some points it didn’t hurt at all, and then it would suddenly be kinda sore. I also did not like hearing a commentary of what he was doing. :)

In fact I’ll let you hear…

Getting Inked

 And then within about 10 minutes it was done…

Yes. I have dancers feet.

I apologise.

Then they put special cream stuff on it and covered it in cling film, talked me through all the after care and how I’m not allowed to pick at it when it scabs (that’s gonna be sooo tough. Parenting friends will tell you how much I love to pick at baby’s cradle cap…!!)

And after that it was off to get lunch – and had some (non alcoholic) cocktails.

And I was hyper like I’d eaten a packet of Haribo all afternoon. We headed to some of our teenage haunts – discovered our favourite pub is now a restaurant, and window shopped in our favourite vintage clothing store. Then the National Museum Of Scotland (where we spotted Richard Bacon) and then we headed home.

:)

Friendships are worth more than chocolate & flowers

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Chocolate and flowers seems to be the theme of this last week. My friend – a pastor in Zambia – wished me a Happy birthday and Lord’s blessing over me. But you know what I realised? I’m already blessed. It’s nice to get chocolate eggs and to come home to find a bunch of pretty flowers on your doorstep, but the friendships I have mean much, much more to me.

Saturday afternoon was a blessed time. Sure, it wasn’t so great that Mr Teapot threw up all over himself and the sofa just as his parents were leaving the house (though I am sincerely glad that it happened BEFORE they left…and I rather calmly went upstairs to get him a clean outfit while they disposed of the pukey things!!). But my favourite moments were sitting round the kitchen table eating apple talking about Easter and the days they were born and playing with Cars 2 play-dough. Elastatoddler sitting on my lap with his Spanish/French workbook from school and asking me to show him how to count in French and Spanish. (And me being seriously thankful we had a workbook. Because I’ve forgotten pretty much all my French and Spanish!!)

Perhaps the funniest part was while trying to put clean clothes on Mr Teapot and Elastatoddler appeared with a gift bag and card.

On the envelope it said ‘Laurie’.

He pointed to it and said “It says Laurie, but that’s really your second name“.

“What’s my first name then?” I asked him

“Auntie.” he replied quite matter of factly, looking at me like I was very silly for not knowing what my ‘first’ name is.

“You’re Auntie Laurie. Auntie is your first name, and Laurie is your second name”  he told me.

And he is right. That’s why I don’t mind changing pooey nappies and wiping poopy bottoms. It’s why I feel proud when I’m told ‘Auntie Laurie I need the toilet‘ after the little accident that had happened earlier in the afternoon. It’s why I don’t get phased by them crying/shrieking when they don’t get their way (though a deep breath to remain calm and pray for one’s ears may sometimes be required). It’s why I have shoes covered in red and blue play dough. It’s why I smile when I see their joy at the simple fun of making someone ‘disappear’ by throwing a towel over them or when 2 brothers play together taking turns with their favourite toys (as opposed to fighting because they don’t want to share). It’s why I don’t leave until I know they are ok when they run and leap face first into a toy fire station and bust their lip and chin just as I’m about to leave the house with an ‘¡Adios Auntie Laurie!’

It’s also why I believe my parenting friends just may be superheroes for doing these things all day, every day for years and years.

Every time I spend time with these boys, I wonder what they’ll grow to be and do in the world, and I think how lucky I am that my friends let me be part of their lives and even trust me to take care of them (for a few hours at a time)!

Rebirth

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Yesterday, me, Elastatoddler and Mr Teapot were sitting around the kitchen table while they ate apple I had chopped up for them to eat. We were talking about birthdays (since it was mine on Thursday, will be Elastatoddler’s on Tuesday and their Mummy’s (my friend Carrie) next weekend. I asked my godson

“Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“We get to eat chocolate tomorrow!!!”

“Why do we get to eat chocolate?”

“Because Jesus died on the cross and then HE CAME ALIVE AGAIN!” *please picture some bouncing here*

Essentially that is what Easter Sunday is all about. Not Jesus death, but Jesus coming back to life. And everyone having a second chance as a result.

The eggs I guess are a symbol of new life and rolling them a mixture of making eggs crack (as they would when what’s inside is ready to be ‘born’) but also the stone being rolled away from the tomb where Jesus lay.

This Easter Sunday is extra special to me. 8th April 2007 was also Easter Sunday. It was the day that I moved back to Edinburgh. God had told me to move back to Edinburgh at Christmas, and I had ignored him. He gave me a second chance to go. Not only that, but I also got the greatest gift – the chance to go to Australia. It was a time of healing and rebirth for me.

The other thing I mention on Easter Sunday is organ donation. I was saddened this week to receive a magazine from a Christian organisation. I’ve never actually supported this particular organisation but because I have some connections with them, I’m somehow on their mailing list. I was saddened to see an article about how they were opposing proposals to introduce an opt-out scheme for organ donation in the UK. For me, organ donation is a no-brainer. I’ve seen people die waiting for organs. I believe Jesus died for me so I could have a second chance at life. It makes perfect sense then that if I die, it should mean (if it is possible) that someone else have a second chance at life. I think it is scary that my wishes could be trumped by my next of kin who maybe are scared of losing me and selfishly say ‘No’ to letting medical staff harvest my organs in that moment.

So today – by all means enjoy hunting for Easter eggs, rolling them and eating them. But please remember what this day is really all about.

Rebirth.

And maybe, if you haven’t already, you might want to consider joining your country’s organ donor register in remembrance of that.

:)

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Yep. It’s true. I am definitely edging closer to the big 3-0 by the day. Yesterday was the anniversary of my birth, and to be honest I wasn’t expecting much from it. The weather this week has been proper MINGING and BALTIC (as we say in this Northern land). A lot of my friends were away. The builders are still in, and we can’t remember what colour the remaining carpets used to be. I’ve been locked out twice this week as builders have left our spare key in the front door so our keys wouldn’t work and I think all our staff and volunteers at the centre have made a mass Easter exodus!

The day began with my Mum bursting into my room singing Happy birthday and scaring the builders by pretending to be in labour (a tradition she started when I was 14). She points out that they were laughing about it. I point out that she is the one paying their wages right now. ;) And the builders played the ‘Guess what age you are’ game. Apparently I don’t look old enough to be my age.

But I knew that already.

And it’s great when you like to act like a big kid!

The sun shone all day. The sun was shining even as I de-iced my car to head over to my doctor’s surgery, where (thankfully) I was greeted by the friendly non-crazy nurse. And sooo thankful that this was not one of the days where I had to get my blood pressure and weight checked before I got my tri-monthly injection!

From there it was Sainsbury’s where my Dad amused and confused me by ringing and hanging up a number of times before finally getting a grip on the technology so he could play this tune down the phone to me. Let’s just say here that my Dad coming through with a card for me the night before my birthday and then calling on my birthday is some kind of miracle in itself. I haven’t heard from my Dad on my birthday since I turned 24 and it was days before he left the country without leaving any kind of forwarding address. So that was special. Even if it was while I was standing in the vegetable aisle at the time.

In the afternoon I headed over to my friend’s house. I was expecting a wee catch up, but hiding behind her kitchen worktop were our friend Vicky and her daughter (Miss S) and son (Mini Kahuna). They had made me a huge chocolate birthday cake with cream and raspberries in the middle, homemade biscuits and Kathy’s A-MA-ZING chocolate brownies. And they’d hidden mini Lindt bunnies all around the house for me to find. So I hid mini chocolate easter eggs around the house for them to find while I was searching for bunnies.

And then we danced on the Wii, and threw easter eggs around Kathy’s living room because the Mini Kahuna thought it was fun game.

And if anyone asks, it was totally the Mini Kahuna who started the game.

I would never do such a thing.

Obviously.

Ahem.

(It was my birthday!!!)

In the evening a few of my friends and my Mum went for a meal to a restaurant that doesn’t serve pasta. Because I’m suddenly remembering that automatical response I had to pasta when I was pregnant again. I am now so sick of pasta that the thought of eating it makes me feel sick. Seriously.

I think it’s going to be a while before I’ll be able to eat pasta.

I came home and opened gifts from my friends – I’m not a person that expects gifts at all. I always feel guilty accepting gifts – I don’t know why, and it’s one of the things in life I’m ‘working’ on. Beautiful flowers, favourite chocolates, vouchers for the shops I most often shop in (I love getting vouchers!), funky books, gifts that I think travelled all the way from India and the Hummingbird Bakery cookbook (bring on our new oven!!!).

But perhaps the best gift ever was a text that came in the afternoon announcing that my friend had given birth – a little girl who shares a name with me (coincidentally – I know it was a name her Mamma really liked!!) and born on 5th April too! Yay!

Tomorrow, I’m spending the day with my favourite April baby – my godson  - and his little brother (he’s my favourite February baby) – and we’re going to watch Cars 2. Appropriate as my godson is getting a Lightning McQueen themed dressing up outfit for his birthday gift from me. But apparently I need to learn who Francesco is. And I’ve been assured that my honourary nephew is going to be able to introduce me!

Meanwhile this godmother is trying to work out how I fill my spiritual parental duties by somehow linking Cars 2 to the Easter Story…

:)