Tag Archives: family

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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…

:)

Curiosity may get me in trouble from my friends…

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One thing is for sure, I think I’m discovering why there are so many ‘Mommy bloggers’ out there in the blogosphere. Kids sure provide you with much to write and think about. Sorry to say that not much to blog from last weekend when Mr Teapot turned 2 – but check out my friend’s creation for the event (totally homebaked from scratch!). The best part was the fact that it was chocolate cake inside.

The only downside – my jeans got literally ‘caked’ with Thomas. And I didn’t notice until I went to put my jeans on to go to church on Sunday morning. Ha ha!

However, last night was one of those nights that I had one of those potentially corrupting children moments. Several of them in fact, complete with a classic BK style malteser moment. It all began as me & Miss Sweetroot were watching a DVD of her dance show from a couple of years ago. We’re talking about the dances, and the dance teachers we’ve had. Then out of the blue she just asks:

“Do you have a job?”

I of course answer “Yes“

This is of course followed up by the key question: ”What do you do for your job?”

Panic sets in. This is my friend’s only just turned 7 year old daughter. I’m pretty sure they have not had ‘the talk’ with her at this point in her life. I’m definitely sure the subject of people getting pregnant when they don’t want to be pregnant has never been talked about because she has only known pregnancy as something to be celebrated and excited about. I’m now wishing I’d become a teacher. Teacher would be an acceptable self explanatory answer to this question that my friend’s daughter would already know about. Pregnancy counsellor and teacher of sex education? Even amongst adults in the pub this answer can be quite the conversation shocker.

I think my answer was quite honest (and hopefully not going to get me killed by her parents!)

“Well, I help people who are pregnant, and some Mummies whose babies went to heaven while they were still in their Mummy’s tummy before they got to be born“.

At this point I’m praying that this will be acceptable answer for her.

It seems to be.

She tells me of someone she knows whose baby went to heaven while it was in their tummy. But then she asks me the toughest question of all:

“Why does God let the babies go to heaven before they get to be born?“

Thankfully my truthful answer of “I don’t know” is acceptable. (Phew. Because I really don’t know.)

Later I take her up to bed and I read her a bible story (Jonah and the big fish), and she reads me a story (Chip & Wilf’s Arctic Adventure). We’ll skip the part where I had to climb up to her bunk bed and in the process caught my scarf with my leg, almost knocked myself out and fell in ungracefully into a pile of stuffed toys. We chat to God together for friends we know on holiday (prompting a question about whether they have sharks in Morocco in case our friend gets his arm bitten off while surfing like Bethany Hamilton).

I’ve no sooner gone downstairs, when I hear little creaks and footsteps outside the living room. I’m reading ‘Father Fiction‘ by Donald Miller.

“What is that book about?“

“It’s about people who grew up without having Daddies” I say.

“How does that happen?” she asks.

And let’s just say that for the next 20 minutes we have lots of chats about half-siblings, step siblings, step parents, how some people’s Daddys might go away by choice and others don’t, and whether the Mummy of mine she’s met before is my ‘real Mummy’ and how I have lots of brothers and a sister but we don’t have the same parents.

Thankfully, when my friends came home and I told them these stories, they did laugh. And they told me that when she starts asking how babies are made, they are going to tell her to ask me instead.

I really hope my friends are joking. (You are kidding, right?!)

Anyway. All this to say that I’m back in the business of corrupting children. Or trying not to corrupt them. These conversations are definitely up there with the time when Miss S asked me about why I had two earrings in each of my ears.

And I now realise I’m officially getting too old to try and climb onto bunk beds.

:)

 

The Giant Stuffed Koala reloaded

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So it was Australia Day this week, and I changed my profile pic on facebook to this picture (as I’ve done for the last 2 years on Australia Day).

My Mum’s response?

“please do not bring a koala that size home. No room.“

My retort?

“I’ll just have to get a house in Australia for it then. ;) “

My Mum has a fear of me moving ‘too far away’ (note to blog readers, when I chose to go to university 2.5 hours away you might have thought I was moving to the ends of the earth). So she backtracked..

“No need we can put him in the hut and let him eat the hedge instead.“

I’m wondering if the builders can put in some eucalyptus in our garden. To replace the hedge. And then at some point I’m going to have to get a giant stuffed koala from Sydney to Edinburgh.

24 days of Christmas: All I want for Christmas is… (by Lori)

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Lori Wilhite serves alongside her husband, Jud who is the Senior Pastor at Central Christian Church in Las Vegas. They have two kids Emma and Ethan, and the world’s cutest bulldog, Roxy. She loves Starbucks chai tea lattes and is slightly Jane Austen obsessed. Lori is the founder of Leading and Loving It: Connecting, Encouraging, and Equipping Pastors’ Wives and Women in Ministry. 

All I Want For Christmas is… a bowling ball

I remember running into our living room, wearing flannel pajamas with some major bed-head happening.

I rounded the corner, excited to see what was under the tree …

A bowling ball.

My parents had gotten me a bowling ball.

A marbleized-purple bowling ball.

Now, to fully understand the incredibly irony of me and a bowling ball, a little description is necessary:

1. I’m the girl who wears heels to walk to pick up my kids at school.

2. Feet freak me out. Seriously. The thought of me putting on someone else’s sweaty bowling shoes is … well … kind of laughable.

3. I don’t have an athletic bone in my body. Not a one. I fall on a daily basis. I run into random objects often. And have broken my ankle by running … just running.

4. To say I have incredibly limited upper body strength is an understatement.

So, here I was … my little sting-bean arms jutting out of my PJs … staring at that purple bowling ball under the tree.

And I loved it.

Maybe it was of all of the excitement of Christmas morning. Maybe it was because I loved my crazy parents. Maybe it is because you could give me a gum wrapper and if you said it made you think of me, I’d love it.

Maybe it is because, in the end, the relationships are far, far more important than the gifts under the tree … or the not-so-perfect holiday meal … or Christmas morning chaos.

In the midst of all the hustle and bustle, stress and anxiety, we can tend to overlook the most important pieces of the holiday … really the most important pieces of everyday. I need to fight to make sure that my relationships … with Jesus, my husband, my 2 kids, our families, and our friends … don’t get swept up in the Christmas craziness. But instead, let those relationships trump all of the challenges, stress, anxiety, and distraction of the season.

So, this year when my kiddos come running down the stairs and open their version of the purple bowling ball, I’ll remind them how much they love me despite the lame gift and how much better our family is than that disappointing bowling ball.

No matter what is under your tree this year, really enjoy the greater gifts that wouldn’t fit under there anyway.

Merry Christmas.

*******

Lori’s post is part of a series of posts over the Christmas period. Please feel free to comment on what Lori has shared, and haste ye back for more guest bloggers who will be sharing over the next 24 days. You can find all the posts so far by clicking here.

24 days of Christmas: Happy Birthday (by Scott)

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Whilst Scott likes Christmas he doesn’t like the over-abundance of glitter that this time of year brings. He is slowly retroactively realising his own blog is on hiatus.

Happy Birthday

I love Christmas.

I really love it. It is, after all, a birthday party for the greatest, bestest gift giver of them all. Yes, the guest of honour and praise was born thousands of years ago and probably some time in late spring rather than darkest winter and hasn’t been corporeal in almost as long but it is still a birthday party.

It makes me a little sad that the marketing folk of high-end products and supermarkets are hijacking the party. I remember when adverts just sold the features and benefits of the product and not the idea that it would fill the empty hole in your life; at least then it was less manipulative.

Let us ignore that part though, cast away any feeling of stress about buying the right gift. Let us think more about the things we can give that can’t be bought from catalogues and department stores.

When The Birthday Boy had a brief post-death jaunt on this earthly plain he met up with his friends and had a special lunch. The food itself, though a miraculous catch, was pretty simple: flame-grilled fish. The special part was the people he shared with.

That is perhaps the crux of it. Christmas is not about giving or getting but sharing what we have with the people we are with. And no slowed down cover version of an Eighties pop song will change that.

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Scott’s post is part of a series of posts over the Christmas period. Please feel free to comment on what Scott has shared, and haste ye back for more guest bloggers who will be sharing over the next 24 days. You can find all the posts so far by clicking here.

Again and again…

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I’ve not written much in the last week, because to be honest, I’ve not had the emotional energy to write much. Last week was trying to say the least where I basically worked 6 days straight (not something I’ve done much of in the last 4 years). It was stressful and really really not worth it. On Saturday I missed 2 birthdays, falling asleep when an unexpected guest left, waking up, and then getting a phone call from my Dad to say that my suspicions had been confirmed…my Grandpa has been officially diagnosed with throat cancer.

This is where life gets strange.

Life as a ‘divorced kid’ seems to be affecting me more now that I’m in my twenties than it ever did during my childhood.

I don’t really know how to respond to this news that my Grandpa is (most likely) dying from cancer.

Firstly, my stepmother basically stopped my Dad seeing his family from when I was about 9 years old. After that point I never saw much of that set of grandparents, so I don’t really know them.

Secondly, I’ve ended up with several sets of grandparents. My Nana & Grandad and step-grandfather have all died in the last 6 years. The 2 grandfathers also died of this kind of cancer.

When my Dad called me a few weeks ago, and told me that ‘Grandpa hasn’t been very well’ and told me his symptoms, I knew immediately what was wrong. However, I’m not a doctor, so at the point I could not say ‘well, it sounds like he has cancer of his oesophagus and/or throat’. Because I might have been wrong. I wasn’t wrong. My Dad then asked me, just like my Mum asked me 6 years ago as my Nana lay in an ICU – ‘what does that mean?‘ – how can you tell your parents what’s going to come?

Of course, if my Dad and Mum had been married, he would have seen what happened to my Grandad and he’d know what is to come because he’d have seen it and been through it already.

But they aren’t.

And so I have seen it but he has not.

I have decided not to go and visit him. That may be the wrong decision, but certainly I don’t believe I have the strength or emotional energy to cope with being stuck miles from home with a family who do not know me, nor have they ever fought to get to know me even when I’ve made effort with them. I ended up having a massive argument with my Dad as he realised that I do not trust him and that I haven’t forgotten the things he has done in the past which he denies. I also do not have much respect for my grandfather knowing the abuse directed at my father most of his life.

What a mess.

One thing is for sure, and that is that the fathers in my family have made a huge mess of things, and it creates a domino effect down the generations.

I am one of five children – and none of us see or speak to our biological fathers often.

I just hope that if any of us have children of our own, we’ll be able to break the pattern.

Only time will tell I guess.

All I can do is pray. Pray that whatever happens over the coming weeks and months would bring our family closer together, changed for better and not for the worse.

:)

My desire? To build community…

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If there’s one thing I’ve been passionate about since Idontrememberwhen it is building family-like community.

I grew up in a very close-knit family. I saw my Aunt, cousin, uncle, Nana & Grandad all the time growing up. In fact for pretty much the first 4 years of my life I lived with my grandparents, and for the next six my Nana was my daytime carer while my Mum worked.

At dance school I liked to make sure everyone in our class was included.

In university halls we created a family – 21 girls together (which is no easy feat by the way). If one of us didn’t come home at night, we’d be calling to find out where they were. Every time someone had a birthday we’d all put £1 in and buy them a present.

Church seemed like quite an exclusive community when I first entered into it. Until I visited a church on February 10th 2002. They treated me like I was one of them and all feelings of ‘outsider’ fell away. Plus they fed me some amazing homemade chocolate cake. I think that helped a lot. ;)

For the first 2.5 years in Edinburgh I became part of a smallgroup. They became my family. I know my way around most of their kitchens.

I have deeply missed community in the last 18 months.

I can feel that loss in my faith and relationships so much.

And in the fact a number of my friends no longer go to church and some of them speak about it with such bitterness and resentment. That’s been sad for me to see.

That crowd of witnesses cheering each other on to run that race – the crowd has got fewer and fewer in number.

I can’t remember the last time someone asked me what I’ve been reading in the bible lately, or text me excited about something God was doing, or replied ‘yes’ when I’ve asked ‘Are you going to church on Sunday?’ in a manner at which they were looking forward to gathering with friends to worship our God together.

I want my house to be like Piccadilly Circus again with people staying over so they can meet with friends. I want to gather with friends church and have people share words, pictures and prophecy with each other again. I want to go to the pub or cafe or park or beach after to just hang out and eat food and talk about life and God together. I want people to text me at 2 a.m. when something urgent needs prayer. I want to be leading people I know and love in worship to our God and be full of joy doing it. I want to write songs with my friends again. I want to be encouraged and supported in the ministry God has given me to do. I want to encourage and support others in the ministry God has given them to do. I want to disciple women a little bit younger than me. I want to pick up people on the way to church/music practice/night out in Cassie the Corsa.

What I want: is to be building community again.

Organically.

Not artificially.

Together.

Popping in for a cuppa…

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…or in this house, a cupcake.

on Sunday night, a momentous thing happened. As I was considering swearing at my laptop and chucking it out of the window while the spinny beach ball reigned and Firefox crashed over and over again as I tried to log into the Central Christian Church facebook campus for to get a bit of worship & teaching sustenance (and maybe catch an old uni friend), my phone rang.

A friend, driving back from the airport, wondering if I was in so she could pop in for a cuppa.

Yes. I was indeed in.

I abandoned the object of my frustration to spin the beach ball and went downstairs to put the kettle on.

Thinking…..HURRAH!

You see, when I lived in Leith as a teenager, popping in was a regular occurrence. Especially if it meant I’d help with a geography exercise so they didn’t have to wander around mapping things in the pouring rain! (Why do that when you can do it  by picking my memory in my Mum’s living room?).

In Aberdeen, my friends knew exactly where my kettle, spoons and mugs were! My flat could get a lot like Piccadilly Circus, and probably the most surreal ‘pop round’ occurrence was when 2 friends showed up with 2 boxes of kids cake mixes, plastic aprons and a dog food fork saying ‘We’re bored. Do you want to make cakes?‘

Sunday was the first time EVER that it’s happened since I moved back to Edinburgh.

And it was lovely.

I love that a friend felt they could do that. I love that we sat in our conservatory drinking herbal tea and eating blueberry cupcakes chatting away.

And I wish it happened way more often. :)

Surviving Christmas

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**Video from Central Christian Church, Las Vegas**

The last few years has made Christmas a really unfun time. One of my previous flatmates actually dreaded going to Christmas services because everyone was so cheery and excited about it, and she would be dreading it.

The last 2 years I’ve really begun to understand where she’s been coming from.

Don’t get me wrong – Christmas Eve is always lovely, with the tradition that began in Christmas 2002 (?) where my Mum started coming with me to Davidson’s Mains Parish Church for their Midnight Service. A year or two later, one of my good friends from high school’s family started coming along, and over the years others have chosen to go to that particular service too, making for a lovely reunion over a short service of traditional carols by candlelight and some shortbread and hot spiced apple juice after.

The day itself is another matter.

For one thing, we don’t live in Leith no more – so I feel very cut off. In the past friends and I used to go to the pub or to each others houses. Usually by about 6/7 p.m. on Christmas Day someone who had quite enough family time for one day would show up at our house!

I would much rather be having a laugh with lots of people than anything else over the Christmas/New Year period. I have great memories of pulling crackers, games of Trivial Pursuit, Hide and Seek and Karaoke or my Auntie playing golf in the hallway of our old flat after Christmas dinner. And my Nana insisting that the Queen’s speech be put on – and the entire family finding numerous other important things to do during said speech!

Though we don’t have the busy family Christmas with a house full of people that we used to, remembering particularly Boxing Day/Hogmanay drama on the other side of the Firth, I love the idea of the ‘Family Survival Kit’. And we may need one this year in our house because I’ve seen the TV schedule for Christmas Day and it doesn’t look good…!

My only question is: When will they be available in the UK?

;)

Heading North (again)

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This weekend, I was hoping to be in London seeing Priscilla with Ruth, Rebecca & Carolyn. But it turns out me and Ruth are pretty poor at the moment and about to get poorer (financially at least).

However, I found out last week that a youth work training in sex & relationships education toolkit created by a pregnancy centre in Aberdeen was being run, and seen as I’m hoping to do something similar in Central Scotland, I thought it’d be a good idea to pop along and steal some ideas get some inspiration. Luckily, I know the manager and we do not frown upon plagiarism amongst our Scottish pregnancy crisis centres. Hee hee. I believe the phrase we use is share good practice. ;)

That, coupled with the fact one of my lovely Assent sisters, Tanja is doing a year with DNA starting on Monday, along with 2 other lovely folks I know at City Church Aberdeen (Ali, how are you graduated already?!). They are catching a flight from Edinburgh to London early Monday morning and they are crashing in my brothers’ room since the trains and buses wouldn’t get them there on time! Good thing I live so close to the airport.

And so, I’m making a weekend of it.

I can’t wait to be reunited with people from my old church, and see firsthand what I’ve been hearing about – I know it’s not the church I left behind in April 2007.

I’m also hoping that a weekend with friends away from Edinburgh will give me some perspective and enable me to better discern some decisions and thoughts at the moment. Plus 2 years ago I lost contact with a ton of my Aberdeen friends when my phone (and most of my contact numbers) became a casualty in the ‘Dad drama’. At the time it was far too raw and confusing to explain, plus the story grew arms and legs as time went on!

I’m guessing ‘How have you been doing?’ is not going to be a simple question to answer this weekend. :)

But I am looking forward to it. And I hope Cassie the Corsa survives it…