Willing

Things that gross me out:

Vomit.

Why is it that someone else vomits, it makes you want to vomit…then there’s two people’s vomit to clean up…but what if the person who comes along to help clean you up vomits as well?!

Diarrhoea.

I love Kaream. I loved caring for him as a baby, and didn’t mind changing his nappies. Even when he was going through what I describe as ‘The United Colours of Benetton’ phase. But when it’s runny and gross? And you can smell it from several rooms away? Too much.

Dirty bathrooms.

If you know me, you know I don’t pee-pee in public toilets. I don’t believe in the myths that you can catch HIV/AIDS from sitting on the same toilet seat as someone else. Not that I have ever sat on a public toilet seat (I have thighs of steel that allow me to hover above them).

But I do believe you can catch something pretty gross from them.

I remember being at university in 1^st year, on the top floor of our apartment block and most of the girls were either away or out for the evening. I heard the corridor door open and shut and someone run into their room. Then I heard it. The puking. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I had prayed for Father God to give me opportunities to show love and care, and share his truth with those who didn’t know much about him on campus. I knew I had to step out and help.

Following the wretching sound, I came to Ruth’s room, where it appeared she was praying to the porcelain god in her ensuite. I spent some time holding back her hair, rubbing her back and trying not to puke on her before tucking her into her Barbie bed sheets.

As she slept, I prayed over her…

…which I later found out she was awake for and had mistaken for me reading her last rites.

I loved my time living at Chris & Rainey’s house during my second year of Pais. There was so much fun and laughter in that house, and Chris was a real father to me. I was a surrogate big sister to their toddler twins, who slept in the room next door to me. Missing my younger brothers & cousins, I loved nothing more than playing with them.

One night I heard a cry, headed down the hall and then smelt something that almost floored me. Gabby had a dying animal inside of her coming out. Well, it smelt like that. I picked her up, gave her a little cuddle and used a dozen wet wipes as I changed her nappy/diaper.

I hardcore scrubbed my hands before returning to bed.

On a recent road trip, the inevitable happened: I needed to go to the bathroom.  

Rushing into the loo, I was greeted by someone else’s “mess”. There is that split second where you have to make a decision: leave and go into another stall, or just pee anyways.

With gritted teeth, I decided to clean it up.

No matter your class, you can still have an air of superiority about you.

A list of things you “just don’t do”,

things that are “below” you,

things that “someone else can do”.

Nevermind that the Son of Man came to serve, not to be served.

Nevermind that He declared that a servant is not ranked above his master, as he carefully washed the stinky, dirt-infested feet of his disciples.

We will gladly take a Kodak snap for the scrapbook with a dirty orphaned African child, but we can’t pick up a piece of trash in our street, or help that person cross the street, or gracefully respect those serving us.

Keen for a girls night out during the two weeks we spent doing training in San Antonio, myself and Adrienne gathered a group of raucous ladies for a night at the Londonder Pub. Sam, our waitress, was kept well amused by our loud antics and confusion over who was eating what as plates were passed hectically around the table. At the end, as we sorted the bills, she said:

“I don’t know what it is about your culture, but you guys were so polite tonight.”

[Rather than launch into a reading from the New Testament and tell her about Jesus, I spoiled the wonderful mood by declaring “That’s because they know I would spank them if they misbehaved.” Classy.]

Just before Christmas, two ladies started attending church after being invited by someone at the gym. Steve met them first and came over to me saying “The woman says she knows me from somewhere but I don’t know where. Come and meet her,” he pushed, knowing that if one of us was more likely to remember an individual, it was me, the social butterfly.

“I know where I know you from!” she exclaimed. “The hospital!”

We looked at each other thoroughly bemused, knowing that we hadn’t been to the hospital since my case of pleurisy almost two years previously.

“Yeah, you were ill and he was looking after you. I remember you because he was taking such good care of you.”

A twenty-three-month-old occurrence of service was so etched into a woman’s head that she felt like she already knew us when she entered our church.

Our Father is love.

Not merely loving,

But defined as love.

We most emulate Him, when we love those around us.

The littlest action, the smallest deed, the love we have for one another

Truly

Makes a difference.

So go ahead, serve someone.

If you don’t, I’ll spank you. 

Here

I believe in democracy;
if people vote, they should get what they want. 


I like to be the trend setter, 
but occasionally i just jump on the band wagon. 


I am strong, 
but peer pressure is often hard to deal with. 


And so this is how I find myself, 
the owner
and writer
of a blog. 


I believe the term is a "blagger". 




ps. Proof I am further a woman of my word, check out my new ONLINE STORE where you can buy copies of 'Comfort Zone' and other pieces of my writing!!

Promise

A recent editorial in The Daily Mail (a British tabloid newspaper) stated that 2010 was: 

Throughout the year the newspaper reported a seeming record number of cases of infidelity in the celebrity world: Tiger Woods, Wayne Rooney, Peter Crouch, Tony Parker, Jesse James, Ashley Cole, Vernon Kay, Ronan Keating, Mark Owen…every high profile male it seemed was caught having his cake and eating if off a young blonde.

Don’t get me wrong and think I am about to launch into a man-hating rant. I vehemently believe in the following two things:

(1) Men aren’t always the bad guys.

Women cheat too (but I would argue that it appears to be less than men).

(2) It takes two to tango.

Besides every cheating husband/boyfriend is a mistress, struggling with issues of self worth. 

The editorial continued to discuss the reasons why these well-established males, aware that their every action was constantly commented on in the media, thought they could get away with such illicit affairs.

Was it arrogance, a sense that they were above the law, that they would never get caught?

Was it feelings of insecurity, their masculinity compromised by the meteoric rise of their successful wives, much more than a pretty accessory on the red carpet?  

Was it a lack of self-control; the opportunities were there, so why not take them?

My opinion?

It was, quite simply, that their vows meant nothing to them.

I have to be careful when I use the word “vow” as my brother-in-law will hastily bring up the fact that I made a slip during my wedding. Within our self-scribed vows I clumsily declared to Steve:

 “I will love you not because I want to but because I have to.”

Needless to say, I learnt the hard way that the words we say have significance and meaning.

Our words, in one breath, can bring life to a relationship:

“Of course, I want to thank my wife…she given me three amazing boys…the support... she is truly an inspiration for me every single day.”

- David Beckham (on accepting a lifetime achievement award for sports in December) -

And in the next sentence bring death to both the relationship and their character:

“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”

- Bill Clinton (on claims of extra-marital relations)

“I take you,

to have and to hold from this day forward,

for better or for worse,

for richer or for poorer,

in sickness and in health,

to love and to cherish

'til death do you part.”

Vows, in this society, don’t mean much.

It seems it is no longer honorable to be a person who sticks to their convictions and their word.

Cheaters are studs living the Lou Bega dream: “…a little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long...”

Character, it seems, is not as important as charisma.

And our world is suffering.

The institute for the Study of Civil Society states the effects on all the family when a biological father is absent:

• Lone mothers are more likely to be poorer than their married counterparts, to suffer from stress & depression, have health problems and more problems interacting with their children.
• Children are more likely to live in poverty and deprivation, have more trouble in school, more trouble getting along with others, higher risk of health problems and more likely to run away from home.
• Teenagers are more likely to experience problems with sexual health, become teenage parents, offend, smoke, drink alcohol, take drugs, leave school at 16 and have adjustment problems.
• Young adults are less likely to attain qualifications, more likely to experience unemployment, have low incomes and be on income support, experience homelessness, suffer long-term emotional and psychological problems and divorce or dissolve their cohabiting unions.

There are always exceptions to the rule.

Your foundation in life does not define you.

But your foundation in life shapes a lot of who you are.

Our society needs men who stand by their words.

The young men need to see older men who model it.

Young men need mentors.

Old men need to realize they are being watched.

“Do not shoot off your mouth, or speak before you think. Over-talk shows you up as a fool. When you tell God you’ll do something, do it-now.”

If you believe in God enough to have a wedding in a church, then believe in God enough to know there is sanctity in your wedding vows.

If you believe in Jesus enough to swear on his name to show your honesty, then believe enough to know that He may just hold you to it.

Where are the men who will rise up?

Where are the promise keepers not the heart breakers?

I know there are a lot of bad apples.

I’ve been hurt by them.

I’ve cried over them.

I’ve cursed the day they were created.

But these truths have risen like a phoenix from the ashes:

I believe in men.

I believe there is a reason Father God created them first, and women second.

I believe they are better than the newspapers portray them.

I believe they are the leaders of our families.

I believe that they can love unconditionally.

I believe that they can be faithful.

The moment I buy into the lie of the year of the love rat, that men are unable to be monogamous, that men will not commit, that there’s no such thing as a “good man”, I declare that there is no future.

And that is something I just don’t believe.

“It is far better not to vow in the first place than to vow and not pay up.”

I hope more men make that vow.

For the sake of the generations to come.

For the hope of our society.

And because I have a lot of beautiful single female friends that I am trying to marry off.

Tug

I am working on changing my guilt into action

Over the past few years, I think a mindset has instilled within me that unless I am doing a big thing, I am doing nothing.

Competitive Texans say: "Go big or Go Home."


When I haven't been able to do something big, i have shyed away, believing I won't make a different.
Cautious about helping with families that are well-off Christians because surely there are people with more need than them.
Not sure about helping in programs that only have 7 girls in them as with my experience, I should be working with groups of 50, 70, 100 or even 1000.
Worried that the times I think Father is speaking to me and then I write a cuple of pages, that they are merely words with no power.

I have come to this point:

Father God deserves a person who does what is laid before them. 


Each of us has something; a leaning, a gifting, a preference.

We will make an impact on the world around us.
That world may stretch 5 miles. It may stretch 500. It may stretch 5000.

But it stretches.

Jesus said: "The harvest is plentiful but the labourers are few."


Maybe that is because the labourers thought that the work set before them was too small, too unimportant, and went looking for a bigger field.

The people around you deserve your help.

I know a story of a shepherd who had 100 sheep but discovered one was missing. He left the flock in search of the one, found it and rejoiced with his friends and neighbours.

A massive party, for one being helped.
One being rescued
One being saved.

Because one searched within their community, looked around, and saw help was needed.

Your help.



Hannah loves romance. 


In my first year month of university she told me, "Don't date in your first year - its the time you work out who you are, and you can't find that in another person."
She explored the intimate relationship Father wants with us, but we seek out in the arms of the 'wrong-but-right-there' person.
This passion has led her to teach in Welsh schools and youth groups about sex & relationships and now move further afield to Zambia in Africa.

This is her tug

Luke loves mental health. 


There is something about schizophrenia in minority ethnic communities that fascinates him, inspiring him to gain understanding and answers to help the community around him.

Led to do a pHD, he tirelessly studies and undergoes ethnographical research to play a part in changing his community.

This is his world.

Anna loves women. 


A fierce protector of those with the XX chromosome and their children, she has worked tirelessly in shelters for the abused, social work and Sure Start centres to support them through hard times.

She not only knows the statistics of domestic violence, she knows the faces.

This is her pull.

Dan loves music. 


His crazy talent for both playing and composing, allow him to write melodies that say everything you were thinking. When he leads worship, the Holy Spirit sweeps in. He isn't interested in the status of being a world famous musician; he's interested in hearts connecting with their heavenly creator.

This is his mission.




I remember a couple of years ago, organizing a crazy sports day with our friends, and we had a Tug-O-War.
I had rope burn for the following week, such was a my sheer determination to win, combined with my freakish man strength.
I put everything I had into that pull.

Your world, your community, your house, your street, your school, your city
Deserves
Your tug.

Steve declared during university to a group of friends that his life goals were simply to be "a great husband and a great father." I remember discussing this, deriding him for "not thinking big enough" and pushing him to think about more things he wanted to achieve, naively believing i was somehow superior with my ambitions of world domination.

One person, on hearing Steve's goals, said:
"You will achieve that in a few years - you need to have something bigger."


But to look at the disintegration of family in our modern society, for a man to make a vocal stand, to declare a fervent desire above all else to be the best father and husband possible, one would clearly see that this is no small task, nor something of unimportance.

Steve and I love families.
We love our mummies, daddies, brothers & sisters, cousins, grandma's etc, but we also love the wider concept of "family" as well as community. We desire to turn dysfunction into delight, to step in the gap of of single-parent homes and orphaned children.
With no kids of our own, we somehow end up on museum trips, teaching English to children, cooking dinners and babysitting kids, watching Disney DVDS and talking with parents on how to raise children. One time, we asked some parents if their kids could stay over at our house so we could build a fort with them; I let the girls try on my wedding dress while Steve drew schematics and taught on construction techniques.

Before Christmas, Father God laid before me two opportunities to help families - to support a homeschooling family, with four adorable children, three times a week, and to volunteer in Fort Worth with an after-school program with seven beautiful African-American girls, picked because they are from single-parent homes and need encouragement.

I grab them with open arms, excited and expectant.

Repeatedly Steve and I have been led to people, conversations, books, blogs, tv shows and other things that have talked of orphans, adoptions, fostering...this week I felt Father God clearly say that I need to put aside my utopia picture of two biological children, that fit neatly into a compact car, and prepare our home that will, in His perfect timing, open its doors to multiple children from multiple backgrounds.

It won't fit neatly.
It won't be tidy.

But as it always is with us,
it will be an adventure.

This is our tug.

"To be a great husband and a great father."


"Bolding seeking Father first, to be made more and more into his likeness; unconditionally loving each other while providing a loving and God-centered environment for all those who enter our home and our lives."


"To love our neighbour as we love ourselves."


Imagine if Steve's goals stirred men to make the bed they lie in, and maybe even bring breakfast to it.
Inspired men to give their families time not money.
Encouraged them to keep their vows of fidelity.
Motived them to see the pleasure of monogamy.

Your tug could make breaking news.

Deserve

Injustice frustrates me.

It boils in me this anger and insistence that the right thing will be done; the bad will be punished and the good will get their reward and compensation.

Steve and I were friends when was celebrating his 22^nd birthday. I was at his apartment as he opened his table football set from his buddy Iain and was filled with joy until he realized that two of the four defenders were missing. Before he knew it, I was on the phone to the store stating my disapproval. When the help I received was not satisfactory, I called the head office customer services declaring “You wouldn’t ask England to play without Sol Campbell and Rio Ferdinand would you?!” I was one step away from calling a national state of emergency.

My irrational passion paid off: we were provided a new set as well as reimbursement for travel costs incurred. I had defeated “The Man”.

On my birthday, I received SOOO many lovely messages; my primary love language is ‘Words of Affirmation’ meaning I feel most “loved” when people say or write nice things about me (though oddly enough it thoroughly embarrasses me when people say them to my face!!)

“I hope you have had a fab day and been totally spoilt as you deserve”

“Hope you enjoy ur day, u deserve it”

“Have a lovely day you deserve it”

What do I deserve?

I don’t know why this word has troubled me in recent weeks

If you are deemed good then society says you “deserve” good things – a good birthday getting wasted with loads of presents…a great family…

I guess I struggle when I think of those who have the same birthday as me, born the same year as me, and what they got.

Dirty water? Family death? HIV?

Why weren’t their gifts good? Didn’t they deserve it too?

Yet while I sympathize, my actions tell a different tale.

Why does only the injustice of missing plastic football players drive me to the telephone and time demanding a wrong is put to right but I tell no one of the suffering of those both home and abroad.

Clean water.

Internet connection.

Rent payment.

Social networking.

Deadly mosquito bites.

Sinus trouble.

HIV.

Often our worries are petty, pathetic and pedestrian in comparison to the real issues of this world – education, healthcare, sanitation, communicable disease,

I think about my recent adventure to the African continent. Did Ghana change me?? Yes, it opened my eyes to another world, though I have experienced poverty of that magnitude in Nicaragua, and arguably in some places in England and America, but was I so changed that my life looks completely different??

Honestly and ashamedly, no.

It has affected my heart, yes. I look through my pictures and videos, or bring it up into conversation and the smell of the red ground permeates, as I am right there walking through the streets.

But still I am still.

Unmoved by these words:

“Anyone who sets himself up as "religious" by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world.”

Check out www.GlobalRichList.com – it simply calculates where you in terms of the richest people in the world. Last year with my modest missionary wage (not including Steve’s money) I was in the top 13%.  This year despite no fixed  salary, I am in the top 14.81%

By simply being a part of the West, by my currency being strong, my country being a superpower, with no job I end up in the top 15%.

Do I deserve this?

People deserve to be equal. When I posted a previous note entitled “Feminists”, several of my favourite girl friends and I had a great discussion on whether we really were equal. I had several days and nights of pondering and questioning all that was shared.

Our world isn’t equal.

I read once that there is enough money in the world for everyone to have $17 million.

Cancer affects 1/3 of people during their lifetime.

Clean water is a merely a dream for too many.

People don’t always get what they deserve.

Sometimes they get more.

Sometimes they get less.

I am working on changing this guilt into action.