Joneses

I want to be like the Joneses.

The Joneses are a great couple.

Fun, lively, adventurous.

And most importantly,

They have lots of money.

They’re both professionals, well respected in their jobs,

And at the end of the month, when their pay cheque arrives

They don’t weep with sadness.

The Joneses love to travel and go and see their friends all the time

They always buy everyone’s drinks at the bar

They produce the most unique and expensive birthday presents for friends

Their clothing is impeccable.

Parties, at the fancy hotels they hire, are an extravagant evening of outrageous fun.

Holidays are filled with business class jaunts across the world

And they can often afford to pay

for other members of their family to join them.

The Joneses are cool.

The Joneses are great.

But the Joneses are not the Millers.

And that makes me envious.

I have this nagging feeling that the Millers

will never be that couple who earn tons of money.

And I thought I was ok with that.

Neither one of us has a tremendous desire to climb the corporate ladder

After Miller man’s brief encounter of retail management,

he realised that he wanted to grow people and not profits

After Miller woman’s profound calling to youth ministry aged 15,

she knew that she was inspired by the thought of impacting the lives of the broken, young and hurting

Neither one of these comes with a massive pay packet

And that was ok

I thought

But five years following graduation

Not even earning enough to meet student loan pay off threshold

And you start to wonder

Is the life of the Millers that good

That effective

That profitable?

And you peek over the fence

And the grass looks lush and bright

And for just a day, or a week

It seems great to roll around

On the other side

Profound night thoughts make me ponder

What is true wealth?

For our wealth of experiences

Of travels to African continent

Jet set transatlantic life

Training people who impact a generation

Helping write book that calls others to action

Mentoring young people and seeing them thrive in their futures

Being told by non-Christians, that our faith seems so strong

Is there not a great richness in this as well?

And commitment made, and stuck to, alongside marriage vows

To live debtless

Unchained

Without credit card, store cards

Mortgage or car loan

And see the real freedom

That could be had

Are we not richer with bank balance that stays in black?

When Father’s holy word says

“fret not yourself”

and

“do not be envious”

I must remind myself

We are the Millers

Called to something different than the Joneses

Or the Smiths, or the Blacks, or the Scots

Our path is individual

And looking over fences

Merely distracts from the garden I am to tend on my own patch

Being rich is not a crime

Being poor is a not a sin

The real travesty of life

Is when I’m so blinded by the endeavour for the more and different to what I have

The world misses out on me concentrating

On the things I am called to

The things the Millers are meant to do.

Photo © Paul Green

Right

This isn’t the right time.

Amidst a flailing of instruction reading and nervousness, we had taken the pregnancy test (as I tried not to pee on my hand), and it came up positive.

We’d only been back in the country four months.

Steve’s dad had only passed away two months before.

Steve had barely started his new teaching assistant job, and was in the process of applying for the extremely competitive and demanding Graduate Teaching Programme.

It wasn’t the right time.

Never mind that Steve and I have a nine year friendship, with a nearly four year marriage.

Great degrees, successful careers so far with plenty of hope for future prospects.

Spent years travelling and serving with a great Christian ministry.

Loving and supportive families excited for the latest member.

Amazing friends ecstatic at the new addition.

A lovely (rented) house with plenty of space.

It still wasn’t the right time.

I had been rejected from the Step Up to Social Work programme.

I was two days from the UCAS deadline for the Masters in Social Work.

I had applied for jobs and not heard back.

I was still working out my career.

That’s what I mean by “it wasn’t the right time.”

Nothing can prepare you for that overwhelming feeling

The pressure of that new life growing inside you

That will be totally dependent upon you

Rely on you for everything

Will look up to you

And you feel you have nothing to give.

Would my child understand all the ups and downs of changing countries, and changing careers? Would my child understand the fact I just got into retail again so I could have a job while Steve looked after his dad, and I tried to find something different but nothing seemed to open up, and then I found out about them, and it was harder to get another job, and risk losing substantial paid maternity leave

For the sake of a

Future career

Future pipedream

Would my child understand?

Do I really understand?

What is my worth found in?

The right career

The right title

The right view of me that I have built up, that I aim for, that I am seeking to have.

I crave that perfect life,

superwoman career mum,

that bakes organic,

giving 100% to marriage

to childcare

to cooking

to church

to hobbies and friends and socialising

and as my belly grows, aches with preparatory birthing pains

my spirit grows more in tune to Father’s whisper

you can’t have it all

so what do you want?

I have wanted motherhood

since spending summers building Playmobile families and homes around my room

since being oldest girl grandchild caring for all oxford cousins

since learning to read early and gathering nursery group for story time

since holding newborn baby brother in my teenage arms

since texas days surrounded by families babysitting for fun

yet shock of motherhood entering my house unexpectedly

made me forget all these things

forget that I have known for a year which nappies I want to use

forget that Steve and I hunted down random family in airport to see brand of their buggy

forget conversations spent learning about family dynamics to be prepared

forget heart racing moments and disappointment of previous pregnancy “scares”

forget burning desire in heart

to nurture

care

create that cute

ginger afro

competitive machine

the world so yearns for

yet is so not ready for

Baby Baby,

I was made ready for you

And your timing, Father, is just right.

Others

Another morning spent praying to the porcelain God…

My whole body aches and wretches in pain as, once again, part of my day is spent trying to count the pounds of food wasted, destined for life as sewage

I pride myself on being a relatively healthy person. No major ailments other than anaemia, no broken bones, no big diseases, in fact my only childhood trip to the hospital was to the ear, nose & eye clinic in Oxford, where aged six I lodged a stone up my nose during a boring outdoor assembly.

I have always been an overachiever.

Pregnancy however is proving my Achilles heel, sapping my freakish man strength from my very core:

Anaemia – haemoglobin count lower than ever, creating uber tiredness

PGP – Pelvic girdle pain, causing excruciating hip pain when I sleep on my back and often getting in/out of bed

Pulled muscle in chest – pain breathing deeply, coughing, sneezing, laughing too hard

Suspected UTI – urinary tract infection, causing frequent peeing and pain

At times I have felt my body completely defeated me

And then I remember “them”

That growing life needing energy and nutrients and safety

And I find myself saying to people:

“I don’t care how sick I get, as long as “they” are ok.”

If I puke everyday, which I seem to enjoy so much, it seems worthwhile pain to endure as long as baby is alright.

Pregnancy seems to be cracking this snow queen’s heart.

Making her think of someone other than self.

And I’m reminded of Jesus:

“When he saw the multitudes, He was moved by compassion for them…”

“He said, ‘They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.’”

“Ok, My Father, if this cup [dying for man’s sins on the cross] cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.”

I know I am no Jesus.

But this womb growing seeks to shape and embrace the fullness of this simple truth.

Others first.

What situation today is Father God using to call you into that place?

The place where you sip

Bitter drink

Gladly

For joy is found when that cup

Is empty

Drunk

Fully devoured

To save the lives

of others. 

The Worst.

Worst things about being pregnant

#1:

not being able to eat sushi.

#2:

not being able to eat smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels.

#3:

going up a size in clothes.

#4:

working in fashion store that does not have a maternity department thus being resigned to squeezing yourself into jeans that are too tight.

#5:

feeling/looking/being fat because of #2 & #3.

#6:

peeing lots thus needing to break your perfectly rational fear of not using public toilets in case you get a disease.

#7:

having to take blood tests (which you hate) for diseases you know you don’t have (like syphilis) and then the tests getting lost (which is typical) so that you have to give more blood (which you detest).

#8:

lets not even talk about bras/bust size.

#9:

even if you have a normal ailment, such as muscular pain in your ribs, you are not able to see your normal doctor and are scared into visiting the triage maternity unit, where you wait four hours, lying on an uncomfortable “bed” lined with rustling paper towels, listening behind an ugly nylon curtain to harrowing tales of women further along in their pregnancy, only to find out that your baby is fine, it is just, as you thought, muscular pain.

#10:

having to master the art of holding puke in your mouth because you need to pee/poop at the same time and unfortunately they haven’t developed an app for that.

Don't have sex (before you are married), because you will get pregnant and not be able to eat sushi or wear cool clothes and be miserable for eternity!!

NB. People who “enjoyed” being pregnant need not comment on this post for fear of me hurting them (remember, I can blame everything on my mood swings and pregnancy hormones…even manslaughter).

Best thing about being pregnant:

#1 (a mute (moo) point as currently there only seems to be one):

The little thing inside of me, currently the size of a mango, who is going to come out (after hurting me some more) all covered in poop and blood, but will get placed into it my ams, wrapped in our organic cotton blankets, and smile at me, thus helping me realize it was all very much worth it, and showing me so much more of the purity and love of Father God. 

Shame that’s still 4.5 months away.

But I guess worse things could happen. 

Tock

We stand to attention at its bells

Grudgingly wake up to its alarms

Wait nervously as its hands tick

This wonderfully uncontrollable thing

Silently is in control of us

It comes

To no surprise

That I delight in nothing more

Than sprinting ahead

Of the tocking master

To chase it down

And refuse to let it grab its hands on me

But sometimes

Especially in this time

Time defeats me

By not telling me how long

I must wait

Wait for a job

Wait for a house

Wait for friends

Wait for course answers

Wait for money

Wait for these things

But what am I really waiting for

My heart cries “What time is it Mr Wolf” desperate to run paces ahead

To a sweet victory

And not be devoured

By the dinner time of the enemy

Who lies in wait

For those who would waste the ticking minutes

Pouring over pages of John’s words

I read over and again

It is not yet me time

My time is not come

Brother Jesus seems to enthralled with the

Watching of the clock too

For there is something ahead

That cannot be awaken

Until its due time

What am I waiting for?

Lessons.

For Kingdom school is starting

Lining up outside

Awaiting the creaking of an opening door

To the room of revelation

Where head master would draw me in

And show me the things I have not yet grasped

My lesson now?
Patience.

And yes this is a lesson I have repeatedly learnt

But each time I flunk out

Because what has been remembered for the test

Has been forgotten for the life

Patience.

To not think my short-nosed plan is so correct and accurate

That I need not wait to see how things pan out

To realise there was no real way to prepare for all this changing

The moving of bags

The moving of roles

The moving of heart, and connections with friends

The moving of place where we learnt to be married, where we learnt to be missionaries, where we learnt to be truly us

Patience to settle back into this land of cold unfamiliarity

My house

not yet restored to being

my home

nothing yet has gone to “plan”
no job or school was one on our list three weeks ago

no idea remains for the rest of the year

for the nearly four weeks

have been a rollercoaster no end

Tick.

I still have much patience to learn.

So much to learn about the sovereignty of the clock maker.

Inbetween

Life As We Know It

I haven’t been very good at writing recently.

So much going on, so many thoughts…

But an inability to write has remained

Is it possible that so much is happening

So much is overwhelming

That the thoughts of it all just totally take over

And I can’t get any kind of words out

This “inbetween” stage is hard because there are no real inbetween stages in life

We are constantly going and moving

And Father God is teaching us something in it all

So I search through all the dirt and grit

To find those jewels

Those treasures

That I can hold onto

And that make this striving feel worthwhile

Short details on the various areas of our life:

Steve’s dad continues to be ill. Not sure how much improvement there is. He knows who we are when we visit the hospital so that is comforting, but he is very confused and tired. His mobility is by no means back to 100%. He had two small falls over the weekend at the hospital as he seemingly tried to do too much. He had a CT scan yesterday showing some swelling which led them to do an MRI today. Visiting hours are 2-4pm and 6:30-8:30pm each day. Steve, Ruth and I try and attend one each day, with amazing friends and beautiful congregation from St. Germain’s church going to the other hours. He is still on the Orthopaedic ward because of the broken bones. We are hoping he will move to the Oncology ward as soon as possible to get treatment for the tumour/cancer more effectively.

Steve’s desire to be a teacher continues. He is currently in ‘Plan A’ – getting a Full Time job with a primary school willing to put him through his GTP (graduate teacher programme – paid on the job teacher training for a year). He will keep going with this until the end of next week, and if there is no luck, he will move onto his ‘Plan B.’ He has been contacting dozens of schools via email and telephone. He is so organised ordered and courageous in it all. So proud of him and inspired by him. Today he had a look around at a school ahead of sending in an application for a Learning Support Assistant role at a local school. He really liked the school, and is hoping to get an interview.

My future plans have two paths. Path one is getting short term employment so we have money to live on. Last week I sent out/delivered my (very pretty) cv/resume to several female clothing stores in the city centre. Had some news/feedback for a couple saying there were now no vacancies or only 4 hr contracts, but I have an interview with one tomorrow (Wednesday) which is just a part-time role, with the potential for more hours at their store, or one of the other branches in the city. Not sure which one will be the right one, but hopeful Father God will lead me.

Path two is getting onto a social work masters course. Path two splits into two separate plans [the Millers are loving their plans at the moment!!]

‘Plan A’: Step Up to Social Work starting Feb 2012, paid masters course with Sandwell County Council (West Birmingham). I have made it through the first stage (review of the 2700 applications) and now my application is with the Sandwell County Council for them to review. I will find out by the end of the month if I have made it though to the next stage [interview/assessment centre day].

‘Plan B’: traditional Social Work masters starting Sept 2012, unpaid masters course with (hopefully) the University of Birmingham. I am completing my application, and have to write a one page personal statement on why I want to do the course, thoughts on social work, past experience etc. The deadline is January 15^th, but I want to get it in mid October to give myself the best chance of placement.

We have visited friends and family in Bristol and Oxford and look forward to visits to Burnley, York, Boure and St Neots from Thurs-Sun. Lots of driving, but lots of fun with people we spend far too little time with.

There is lots of other boring admin involving driving licenses, visiting doctors and dentists, and various other things. The only exciting part is I had my eyes tested (it had been 4 years since I last had them done) and discovered my left eye has got weaker and my right eye is over compensating for it, but that is putting a strain on my eyes so I need to change my prescription. I am sure there is a spiritual lesson in there somewhere. Plus side – there was a ‘2 for 1’ offer on glasses, so my two new pairs will be arriving soon. Very excited from a stylistic point of view.

I wish I had in me more inspiring words.

They are there somewhere. Buried. Deep.

Please pray for us and all the various needs we have.

Also to throw in there, I need to have documentation of my school exams taken aged 16 & 18 which are in a file somewhere in my Oxford house. Despite 4 hours of searching over the weekend, we are yet to find them. Cost to replace them is in excess of £200 ($300), money we would prefer not to spend on something like that.

Missing our Texas people lots and lots.

Missing the sun too.

Next Step

Notes have been lacking throughout the month of August due to being in San Antonio for three weeks, and then Colorado for a week for Pais Training. It's a hard life, really it is. 

My last note, Ahead, spoke of my conversation with Father God to step back from planning for our future in England (housing, jobs, courses, finances) and concentrate on pouring into the apprentices and leaders on Pais. 

Ten days ago, I received an email from my mother who somehow had found online an opportunity to get paid to do a masters in social work (the qualification I have been seeking to get) in 18 months (rather than 24 months) and start in February (rather than September next year).

A chance had fallen into my lap without me even trying and Father God once again confirmed that He sees everything and is ordering everything.

And He does a better job than I do.

Somehow, amongst all the craziness, training and flights, I managed to complete the application and today sent it off!!

Thanks to you for all your words of encouragement!!

Thanks to professional advice from many but especially Anna, Dave, Luke, Nikki and Debs!!

I am excited to see how this all works out. In September they contact all the people who haven't made it through to the Assessment Centre/Interview stage. So I am hoping to hear from someone in October to say I have made it through!! 

I will still be applying for the traditional masters course next month, but I am hopeful that this is a door that Father God has opened for me to step through. If not, all it has done is increased by drive and passion for social work and making an impact on the community. 

For now, I will leave you with my personal statement from my application. 

There may be grammtical errors, things you would change or things you don't like about it. 

My mother always said, if you haven't got anything good to say, don't say anything at all. 

And as she told me on the phone today as I told her I had submitted it, "All we can do is pray. What is done, is done. It cannot be undone."

----

A love for books and a passion for people led me to study English Literature and Sociology.

I am fascinated by the why’s of social interaction.

I have learnt that the issue is not the issue; what appears to be the reason behind an action, even if verbalised, is often shadowing something deeper within.

My dissertation on Black British culture analysed some of the continued inequalities and struggles faced within our society.

I have used my blog as a medium to inform and inspire on issues such as race, adoption, and relationships.

The last five years spent 5000 miles from family and friends produced resilience and strength to endure in difficult circumstances.

Marriage at just 23 has taught me the value of family and unity, as well as developed maturity that I do not believe I would possess otherwise.

Ten years of involvement in youth and children’s work has cultivated strong communication skills, both written and verbal.

I love speaking to groups of people, particularly females.

My heart breaks over the increased sexualisation of young girls, the rise of teenage pregnancy and body dysmorphia.

Through mentoring of both individuals and groups of girls (some for 3-4years), I have sought to intervene into these unfortunate social trends.

Through The Pais Project, I have learnt to work as a team player in partnership with colleagues, church leaders, and school staff to facilitate lasting change in young peoples lives.

Naturally a speaker, I have slowly learned to listen more and better help those around me.

Friends employed as social workers are all unanimous in communicating the demanding and often exhausting nature of their profession.

Testimonies from the current Step Up cohort are clear in describing isolation and course intensity.

I go into this venture sure of its difficulty, but excited by its potential.

I believe there is always hope…an opportunity for more than we are all living for, and more than we are experiencing right now.