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. 

River

My eyes look into

Judging eyes staring

Back

Daggers of disgust

Shock

Shame racks my body

I turn in fear

To give in

“I’ll just wait”

the pain is easier to bear

than the disdain of my peers

Your clammy hand

That’s “been there, done that”

Stretches forth

And grabs my

Dry

Scared palm

River waves rush up

Their eyes still look

But I still

Walk.

You hand makes me

Protected

Fearless

Invisible

Your hand brings me

Confidence

Freedom

Life.

“You can go now” I say

and push you away

But no

You are in this for the long haul

By my side you stay

For what feels like forever

And a day

Until

Relief.

Hands still holding we walk back

Facing the eyes

We walk back to the shore

Get in our boat

And paddle into a

New adventure

Yet

Our story

Still follows us. 

Plan

The run up to this year’s birthday was not a happy one. Unemployed. Father-in-Law with cancer. Crazy travel schedule. No glamorous party planned. But the sadness seemed disconnected to the events. There was something deeper.

When I was a little girl, I loved Crayola pencils. I loved drawing people, and designing clothes for them. And I loved drawing families.

I spent hours as a child creating villages with my Playmobile figures, making houses & schools & shops, even creating oatmeal in bowls for them. I loved the dynamics of their little families.

I never imagined being married. I never dreamt of a big white wedding day. I never knew what kind of house I really wanted to live in (though the heated bathroom floors in my friend Freya’s house are pretty cool).

But I always had in my head that at 25 I would have a child.

25 just seemed like the right age; enough maturity, but still young and fun.

And here I was, the light fading on my first quarter of a century, and there was no child to carry through the sunset.  The tears fell swiftly.

My plan was ruined.

When you translate the word “plan” into Hebrew there are a number of terms used. As I was reading through them, one stood out to me:

‘Damah’ meaning “to be like”

Plan…to be like…

Is that the problem?

Our plans set an expectation; something or someone we desire to be like?

Married by a certain age, driving a particular car, living in a specific area, promoted by a specified time…so we can be just like

Our brother

Parents

Cousin’s girlfriend’s best friend’s uncle’s dog.

Just like…the schematics detailing our existence that we have held so tightly onto…

But are now weeping abysmally as the ink on the paper drips off the page

“Exactly as I planned, it will happen

following my blueprints, it will take shape”

That’s, what he said

As he set himself up for failure.

Because those words weren’t his own.

But the speaking

Of Father God.

We will never fulfill our plans.

Things will never work out the way we expect.

Get over it.

Now.

Before life takes such a massive bite out of your butt that you cannot sit down for weeks.

“We plan the way we want to live,

but only God makes us able to live it”

I never would have planned that Steve and I, after two and a half months of dating, would spend a whole year in different countries.

I never would have planned to have a wedding in another country and give myself five and a half months to get ready and only arrive ten days before the service.

I never would have planned to live 5000 long miles away from all I knew and all who I knew.

I never would have planned that the majority of my friends in Texas were at least ten years older than me, all with children.

I never would have planned to leave a job with no guarantee of another job right away.

This is not what I planned to be like.

But.

Blob

In church yesterday, we were looking at what is called 'The Blob Tree':

Our challenge was to look at where we felt we were spiritually in terms of following after the purposes of God and where we desired to be.

Which one do you feel like?

This is how I felt:

The person desperately grabbing onto, clinging onto the tree…a little way up there, but with so much still left to climb.

Situations in the past six months have seen me worry about finances, wonder about our future family, wish for healing for our current family, wistfully hope for a future job.

My hands raw and blistered from just trying to cling onto this tree, something stronger than me.

Barely surviving. Just about holding on.

My favourite part of my birthday is the cards/messages I receive. The narcissistic side of me wants to know what people think of me. But the sensitive and probably slightly insecure part of me wants, no, needs to be affirmed by words. Needs to feel the love, especially when far from home, that I am cared about, considered and matter in this world.

“Thank you for being you. Someone who refuses to settle for anything less. For fighting the good fight with the right gloves on, and for patiently waiting for the right ring to step into. I’m one of many in your corner. I truly believe in you!”

“It’s been an encouragement to us to watch you really support and love Steve through this rough time! You’ve really been a great role model.”

“I cannot thank you enough for the impact you had on my life.”

“You are the most enthusiastic person we know. You love everything and everyone.”

“Thank you for all your constant words of wisdom! You’ve spoken loads into my life and helped this young man grow!!”

“Although I don’t really know you, I know that you are so gifted in writing and having so much fun with friends and you are so full of love and joy!”

“You challenge and inspire me to be more just by being who you are.”

And my favourite:

“I know that you are in an awkward stage in your life, but I just want to say that it is no mistake that you don’t have a job. I honestly have seen you change more these past few months than over the past few years. You are in just the place God wants you to be in.”

When you look back at the blob tree, at the person I picked, you notice something special:

Beneath the clinging yellow blob, is another blob.

Streching an arm upwards

Looking for a way to get higher

Needing help to get to the next level

And in the frantic desperate clinging of the yellow blob, the green blob notices something that they want, something that they aspire to, something that they want to be a part of.

People are messy. And it isn’t restricted to the peeing, pooping and puking stages of our infant years.

It is unleashed into the emotional turmoil of relationships, the financial craziness of being a “grown-up”, the frustrating tangling of not being the person, not having the character we want to have right now.

But somehow despite that being messy, despite each feeling as if we don’t have all our stuff sorted out, we look to oneanother

For help.

Solace.

Guidance.

Support.

Words of affirmation.

We are not just blobs, fatty messes, with an indistinct form. We are not blobs of ill-defined shapes.

We are blobs, spots that make a mark on this world.

That make a difference.

That in a word, deed, action could profoundly impact someone’s life without even realizing.

That are used by Father God to bring love and hope to others.

He is not ignorant of the miserable mess of our lives.

Rather, He uses us in spite of our messiness.

You, little yellow blob, are important to the tree.