A Non-scare

“Fluff, what does ‘gullible’ mean?” Chip asks her big sister.

“It’s a swear word!” Fluff sounds shocked. “You mustn’t say it!”

Chip looks at her sister. “It isn’t.”

“It is!” Fluff is insistent, although she is smiling. Chip is unconvinced.

“Muuuum?”

“Hmm?” I look up.

“What does ‘gullible’ mean? Fluff says it’s a swear word.”

“It’s not swearing.” I pause. “There’s no such word, Chip.”

“Really? Fluff said it was a swear word!”

“No, it’s not a swear word.”

********

Two weeks later we are waiting in the hospital for me to see the breast specialist about a lump in my *breast. It is the same hospital in which we visited my dear mother-in-law before she died three weeks prior. Emotions hang raw in the air.

I am sitting with my new crochet project and Chip is quietly reading. She is, like her mother, addicted to stories.Suddenly she jumps up and runs over to me, her index finger against a word on the page.

“See, Mummy!” She cries, “It is a word!”

I look at the page to see what she is pointing at. I smile up at her and all of a sudden she gets it and looks at me with dismay, then disapproval and then amusement. There is a gleam in her eyes that I know means she is thinking of a way to get me back (the girls and I love jokes, but Daddy and Prince not so much, so we don’t play jokes on them). Prince wants to know what was funny and so I explain to him, several times, until he understands and grins. A difficult day becomes a little lighter.

*******

*It was just a large cyst, which was drained with an enormous needle. I am prone to them, apparently.

My word I was grateful that it was only a cyst! Not because we wouldn’t have somehow dealt with/struggled through any eventuality (because who has a choice in these things?), but because the last few months have been really hard. This non-cancer-scare actually felt like a bit of a turning point for me. It’s not just the grief of losing someone you love that can cause distress after the event, but the weeks leading up to death during which a loved one is suffering. I had become consumed by my mother-in-law’s suffering. I couldn’t bear to see her like that. I researched strokes and vascular dementia and end of life care, etc., etc., just to try to find some answers that would limit her intense distress. I came up with very little, to be honest. I just wanted to make her feel better. She was clearly distraught and in pain. I eventually realised that ‘the Lord gives and the Lord takes away’ and there was not one thing I could do about it either way, except be there for my husband, and pray. I don’t think I did a very good job of either.

Sometimes a non-scare can give you a bit of perspective.

Who?

Who said this: “[My uncle was] a shameless old man who taught us obscene folk songs in Genovese dialect. That’s why none of the words of the little Genovese I know is repeatable”?

Was it –

a) Donald Trump

b) Pope Francis

c) Prince Philip

d) Silvio Berlusconi

 

Scroll down for the answer 👇👇👇

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Answer: Pope Francis (yes, really!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarinet and Ukulele

Last week Fluff (13) had her first clarinet lesson. Her piano teacher also teaches clarinet so we’re very fortunate. Fluff often feels like she lives in the shadow of her sister, which is difficult when it’s your little sister. Chip (11) is one of those (annoying) people who is gifted at everything: she’s very academic, she’s a natural swimmer, she played for the school football team in primary school, she’s a gifted actress, she was voted form captain within the first fortnight of secondary school, she’s friends with everyone, she got the Head Teacher’s Commendation Award at the end of the first term (December ’16), she currently has both bronze and silver merit badges… Need I say more? I marvel at this girl. Is she really bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh?!

I adore my Chip but sometimes find it hard to relate to her seemingly inevitable success, not to mention her gushing abundance of self confidence. Fluff – fiercely independent, creative, very much her own person, not as academic but determined, a bit of a loner – I confess I relate to better. Fluff is currently discovering her innate talent for music (she’s just picked up my ukulele and begun playing, never having touched it before). We bought her a second-hand clarinet for Christmas and by the end of Boxing Day she was playing In the Bleak Midwinter.

The delightful thing, for me as her parent, is that because she’s not used to being as naturally good at something as her sister, she takes such joy in the discovery of music. She’s also recognised that hard work pays off: she has a natural talent but knows that musicianship is found in practise, and plenty of it.

I wonder if there’s a lesson in that? I wonder if something is the more wonderful when it is hard won? I wonder if joy is only truly found in the space between sorrows?

“The kingdom of heaven is like [yeast], which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till all of it was leavened.”

“…the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

Matthew 13:33, 45-46 (NKJV)

emphasis mine

Three in One and One in Three

Jesus said to them, ‘You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?’  They replied, ‘We are able.’ Then Jesus said to them, ‘The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized…’

Mark 10:38,39 (NRSVA)

Then [Jesus] took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many…

Mark 14:23-25

rubilev

The Hospitality of Abraham by Rubilev – see how each looks at the other, in a triangle? See how each hand reaches in the opposite direction to the eyes? See how they share the one cup?

‘Three in one and one in three, the godhead of the Trinity’ so says the hymn attributed to St. Patrick, caster-outer of snakes and paganism.

I think this is the core realization of every saint. Saints see things in their connectedness and wholeness. They don’t see things as separate. It’s all one, and yet like the Trinity, it is also different. What you do to the other, you do to yourself; how you love yourself is how you love your neighbor; how you love God is how you love yourself; how you love yourself is how you love God. How you do anything is how you do everything.

Reading these words from a blog post by Richard Rohr this week (emphasis added) brought to mind another post: Thou Shalt Love Yourself? by Laura Martin. It’s as if each one answers the questions posed by the other. Funny how God does that.

Perhaps the third part of this triangle would be my own post: A Mathemagical Puzzle. After studying statistics and probability all day my befuddled mind began a-wondering and a-pondering. It didn’t come up with much more than a desire to learn more about probability and the way stuff works. Much like theology, mathematics can be applied to every sphere of life, the universe and everything (perhaps I should have titled this post ’42’)?

They went to a place called Gethsemane; and [Jesus] said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ He… began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.’ And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed…, ‘Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.’

Mark 14:32-36

Three in one and one in three. I in You and You in me. I guess drinking from the same cup is terrible and glorious and yet – ordinary.

This Changes Everything

If a person really grasps the truths of the gospel and believes it, this changes everything. How can they ever be the same again? We are recipients of amazing grace! 

From Positively Powerless by L.L. Martin

This past week began with a very poorly little Chip who threw up all over her school bag and its contents and was then wiped out on the settee for a couple of days.

Yesterday, despite my best efforts to avoid catching it, I managed to throw up all over the mirror, the wall, the carpet, myself, the bathroom floor and my husband’s dressing gown. I had been lying in bed hoping it would go away and had not factored in the time it would take to jump out of bed, grab the nearest dressing gown, run along the hall, down three stairs, turn the corner, up two stairs and along the corridor to the bathroom. Hence the awful mess. I adore our big Victorian semi, but it has a few disadvantages. Not that I would change a thing. I love our higgledy piggledy house.

My dear, kind husband cleaned it all up while I climbed straight into the shower. Prince, in his adorably honest fashion, opened his bedroom door and imperiously demanded, “What on earth is going on?! It’s four o’clock in the morning!” You just can’t get the staff these days.

I felt awful so went back to bed with a bucket. Frank was supposed to be going to his cousin’s funeral yesterday, but instead he became my nurse and took over my usual role with great gusto. He even got Prince to walk to school, which is something of a miracle. Seriously. You’ve not met Prince. Think Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, only with learning disabilities. Even the mannerisms are similar. Prince does not like having his routine disrupted o_O

I spent yesterday in bed and in pain all over my body. I think it’s related to the M.E., which is itself a neurological disorder – it’s like the pain nerves get switched on, despite there not being anything actually wrong. I’m just glad I don’t generally have pain. Lots of M.E./CFS sufferers do.

So today I am resting and reading Positively Powerless by Laura Martin. The words above struck me. How great is our God! Amazing grace. Hallelujah! When I am better I will write a review. Positively Powerless brings to light some very pertinent issues for the 21st century Church, which have never been addressed elsewhere, despite their importance. I highly recommend it. More on that later.

This is a bit of a higgledy piggledy post. Never mind. Be blessed, friends.

Stoopid is Stoopid Does

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Image courtesy of idpinthat.com

I hate this illness. First I miss years of school because of it and now as I begin studying (again) at the age of 39, I find it’s taken me about five goes to get right something I would otherwise think of as basic algebra. Every time I am making really, really stupid mistakes, basic mistakes like copying the wrong number into an equation. Repeatedly. I could cry. But I guess a better thing to do would be to get a good night’s sleep and try again tomorrow. Patience is indeed a virtue.