Out and Proud

It seems it's not 'cool' or 'done' to be proud of yourself anymore. We aren't supposed to say or think 'good' things about ourselves, in case people think we're 'up ourselves' or that we are judging people who don't do things the way we do.

Well, stuff that.

I've had enough negativity for the moment. I've had enough of reading about how people are making stuff up on facebook just to make themselves look good (really?) or about how I shouldn't mention any of my own successes because they might make the person I'm talking to feel inadequate. I make mistakes (oh Lordy, do I make mistakes) but you know what? There are some things I am damn proud of and I own them. Here's a few.

I am proud that I have such a great, adult relationship with my parents and my brother. My mum is my best friend. My Dad will always do what is best for me and my brother always has my back. And you know what? It's because we've ALL worked at it. Relationships are hard work. We have chosen to put the time and energy into ours and it has paid off.

I am proud that my husband and I still love each other. More all the time. And I am proud that we are honest with each other and that we do work through our issues... eventually.

I am proud that my big girl has lovely manners and has a God awareness that enhances her life.

I am proud that my baby boy has never had formula or cried for more than a few minutes without a cuddle. That he has been carried, not pushed, and that he is really securely attached to his family. And that he sometimes says 'da' ('Ta'. We're working on it.)

I am proud that I have my black belt. Come on, how cool is that?

I am proud that I have two full degrees. I worked hard for those degrees, and I get good marks.

I am... humbled and overwhelmed that I will probably be ordained. There is no pride there, that is nothing that I have done that has made this happen... there is nothing to be proud of in trying to follow God's will. Not proud, but... satisfied. Deeper than pride. More meaningful. Soul deep.

That's my list. The things I am most proud of in my life. And there will be more, because I live my life in a way that lets me be proud of what I have achieved. And you know what? I don't think I am any better than a formula mum who used a pram from day dot and is divorced with no higher education. I really don't. Because being proud of MYSELF does not make me 'unproud' of anyone else. I can enjoy my successes without needing you to share them. Because wouldn't life be boring if we were all the same?

Clinical Pastoral Education... revealed!

So this is my final evaluation for CPE. We were told we could get creative, so instead of writing yet another boring monologue I wrote it in the form of a radio interview. I've edited out the bits about my peers - confidentiality, doncha know. But this may give some kind of idea what I spent more than 400 hours doing over the last 6 months.

Announcer: Good morning everybody, and welcome to “The CPE Final Evaluation Show!”. This morning we will attempt to enlighten you as to the significant journey Josie has been on as part of her CPE training. Let's start off with a bit of context. Josie, what prompted you to take this course?

Josie: Well, initially it was purely as a requirement for preparation for ordination. Basically, if I want to be ordained, I have to do it! But I had heard mysterious stories of personal growth and sleep deprivation from previous attendees so I was pretty keen to find out what this was all about.

Announcer: So you're an ordination candidate. Does that mean you're hoping to become an ordained priest?

Josie: Yes, if all goes well I'll be ordained in February 2013. I'll start off in a parish but hope to eventually move into a school.

Announcer: Sounds good! Let's move on to you learning goals. I hear you are quite a goal orientated person. How did you choose what goals you wished to work towards?

Josie: My first two goals I decided on very early in the course. My first came from a certain awkwardness I felt when praying in the company of others. Isn't awkward such an awkward word?

Announcer: Um, yes. So that first goal, can you remind us what it was again?

Josie: To be comfortable, confident and articulate in offering and sharing prayer in a pastoral context.

Announcer: I see. So where did this discomfort you felt come from?

Josie: Well, growing up in an unchurched family I was never exposed to prayer. And as I started to explore prayer for myself I found it difficult to find my own voice. I was always worried I was doing it 'wrong' if I didn't seem to pray like everyone else did. So although I was comfortable praying in a prepared manner, like at Church, I did not have any experience in offering prayer in a more intimate, pastoral situation.

Announcer: But later on you felt you had achieved this goal. What changed?

Josie: Partly practise. I mean, when you do something often enough you do start to get used to it. And I met some lovely patients who received my prayer with grace and thanks, for example Sally in verbatim #3. But the main thing that helped was finding my own voice in prayer.

Announcer: Was there someone in particular who helped you with this? (knowing look)

Josie: Why yes actually! Marjorie always seemed to comfortable and confident in her prayers. As first I thought I should try and pray like she does, because that seemed so effective. But Noela pointed out that Marjorie was so well loved because she was so authentic, and that finding my voice should prove the same. So I learned to offer prayer and if this offer was taken up to pray about what myself and the patient had been speaking about in my own words and those of the patient. And viola! It works! I do feel comfortable, confident and articulate in offering prayer because it is in my voice and with my understanding.

Announcer. That's great Josie.

Josie: But wait, there's more! About the same time I achieved this goal I also achieved the other one I set at the same time, to become secure in identifying myself as a pastoral carer.

Announcer: Oh?

Josie: Yeah, after a few (or maybe a few more) weeks of training it seemed silly to deny that I was fulfilling this role to others. When I was coming to people, in their beds or in their homes, it was as a pastoral carer and they accepted me as such (for example, Fred in verbatim 13). They were willing to share intimate parts of their lives with me. To deny my identity was also to deny their faith in me and in Christ. I came to realise that being a PC was not about me, it was about the patients. Kinda obvious really!

Announcer: Quite. So after you'd fulfilled these goals, did you set more?

Josie: Of course! I find setting and achieving goals to be very building of myself, and it is something I will continue with. My final two goals were to be accepting of my weaknesses, to see mistakes as opportunities for growth rather than misfortunes; and to use my newly found reflective listening skills in my intimate relationship as well as my professional ones.

Announcer: And how are they going?

Josie: Oh, I think these ones are going to take a little longer. As someone with a tendency towards perfectionism I can be quite hard on myself when I think I've stuffed up. Doing verbatims has been really helpful with this, because I've been able to listen, receive and give suggestions as to better practise in ministry without any anger or shame. It's occurring to me that a mistake can provide a learning you may not otherwise have found! As for my listening skills... well, that's something I will continue to work on. Practise makes perfect!

Announcer: Indeed it does. So, moving on to your Outcomes for basic part time CPE. Could you articulate for us some central themes of your religious heritage and the theological understanding that informs your ministry?

Josie: Probably.

Pause

Josie: Oh, you mean now? Sure. As an Anglican, a major part of my pastoral understanding is that we live through the via media, the middle way. We don't have a central ruling body that tells us what we have to think and believe, and this is very important to me. It means that even though we may have vastly different theological beliefs and understandings, mine is no more valid or real than yours. It means that though we may disagree, sometimes vehemently, in the end we are all brothers and sisters in Christ and connected in and through the Spirit in the power of God. I am comfortable and curious about differing views – and I find that my own can change as a result of new experiences and learnings.

Announcer: For example?

Josie: Well, I had never considered myself to be an embodiment of Christ, although I had professed to believe and live it. After all, in the creed I do say that I believe in the resurrection of the body, and to me that occurs every day in our lives as people of the Book. But it wasn't until I started CPE and we started talking about who we are to our patients that I saw how this reality is played out in a tangible way. It is humbling and scary and such a profound act of worship to be in this position – there are really no words to describe it.

Announcer: You've moved on a bit past where we were going here Josie. Shall we go back to outcome 2 in a moment and stick with number three, what have you learned about yourself as a minister and person?

Josie: Okey doke! When I started CPE I considered myself to be quite self aware, but as it happens I was quite mistaken. In good ways as well as not so good, actually. A big one is my relationship with my own mortality. I had thought that after my cancer journey I was quite comfortable with the concept of my own death, but reading a wonderful book called 'May I walk you home?' showed me just how much I was avoiding that particular topic. I was also forced to confront the issue of rejection and what it means to me. What I was able to discover is that a patient can not reject me as a person because they don't know who I am – what they are rejecting is who they think I am, what role I am playing in their head. When I understood this it became easier to distance myself from feelings of resentment or grief following a rejected offering of myself. On a more positive note, I cam into CPE thinking that I would really struggle with handling criticism, but this has not been the issue that I thought it was going to be. I think it is because any criticism levelled my way really was made in love and with my own best interest at heart, given to build me up rather than bring me down. I found I welcomed it as it gave me an opportunity to look at things in a different way. And I learned that if I disagreed with it, after thought and prayer on the issue, then I didn't have to own it. That was liberating as well.

Announcer: You've touched on your cancer journey – can you share some other major life events, relationships and cultural contexts that influence personal identity as expressed in pastoral functioning?

Josie: Yeah, sure. I was brought up in a house that embraced difference and have worshipped in churches that do the same, from Sudanese refugees to parents of children with disabilities to our older citizens struggling with loneliness and loss. This means I am comfortable in many situations, not much phases or shocks me (yet). I have experienced mental illness in my life as well as those around me, and addiction as well. I understand that these issues run much deeper than can be seen or explained. Journeying with my father in law in his final months has given me an understanding and love for the dying. And of course having children gives me an automatic bond with anyone who has or loves children in their own life.

Announcer: So, do you feel more confident/competent in your ability to interact and communicate with patients/parishioners?

Josie: Absolutely. When presenting my verbatim about a woman with little sight or hearing, I discovered the importance of observing body language for permission for physical contact. It seems to be best not to ask too many questions, but to mirror the other's language and/or to put an emotion to what they are feeling, and people will often underrate their own emotions, for example they may say 'worried' instead of terrified (CPE 16/5/12). I am less worried about initiating a visit because the worst that can happen is that they will refuse. That's certainly not the end of the world! And we did some good work with Lynda about how to end a session to.

Announcer: You've mentioned initiating pastoral encounters. How hard/easy was this for you? What were the situations where this was difficult?

Josie: The longer I have been doing PC, the easier initiating a pastoral relationship gets. I can only offer myself, my presence and my time. I don't have to worry about not doing enough – I am not there to 'do' anything! I am certainly not there to 'help', as the guidelines for this evaluation seem to imply in this question.

Announcer: Ok, we'll keep that in mind. You've already touched on receiving feedback, saying that you found it easier than you expected. How about offering that feedback yourself?

Josie: That is something I struggled with at first, I must admit. I wanted to give feedback but I was worried I would come across too mean, so to speak. But when we reached a point where we trusted each other, it became natural to give feedback that I thought would help. It also became more about the other and less about me – if I failed to offer feedback because I was worried about how it would make me look I was doing no one any favours.

Announcer: So you found that when you focussed less on yourself it became easier to give and receive critique.

Josie: Exactly. I have never been in a small group situation like this one, and at first it felt very... confronting. I am a naturally open person so it wasn't that I didn't like sharing, but I did worry sometimes that I talk too much!

Announcer: You? Talk too much?

Josie: Silly, I know. But I had to become aware of the potential for me to dominate the conversation. Sometimes I really had to bite my tongue when I wanted to cut in or say something but realised that I needed to allow people time to think. I also was forced to become more comfortable with conflict. I know that it is a necessary and constructive part of life and relationships but it was something I needed to witness being used in a positive way to appreciate how it could be an effective communication tool.

Announcer: As we draw this segment to a close, is there anything you would like to say to the other participants in this course?

Josie: Why, yes!

Announcer: Well, that's enough talking from you, Josie. You are way over your word limit you know! Any final thoughts? Briefly?

Josie: I just want to thank everyone so much for joining me on this journey. It has been a privilege sharing it with you all, and I do strongly feel that God has a plan for all of our lives and that we are following it. Thanks be to God.

So what is a verbatim anyway?

This. Only not nornally with yourself. Ahem.

Name: Josie

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Married

Religion: Anglican

Date of visit: 6^th August

Place: Patient's home

Date when Written: ^{6th August}

Length of Visit: 10 minutes

Background:I know and trust this particular patient extremely well. We have no secrets although she does have hidden depths.

Plan: To be a pastoral presence to the patient, to see if there was anything she wanted to talk about and pray with her as indicated.

Impressions: Josie seemed to have something bothering her. She looked a little disturbed. There was a small child playing on the floor beside her.

Pastoral Call:

C1: Good morning Josie. I can see that something is bothering you. You look quite disturbed.

P2: I am disturbed. I am finding myself at odds with some of the core tenets of my faith and I just don't know what to do!

C3: You're finding yourself in disagreement with some of the core points of Christianity?

P4: I don't know, that's the problem.

Pause.

Basically, my faith and my identity are tied together intimately. My body, my mind, my soul – all these are part of my self as part of God's creation. And obviously being female, a woman, is a huge part of that. But so much of what we say in Church is tied to a masculine understanding of God. In the creed, we talk about the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, who we call the Lord. Three male entities. How I can I be part of something that is male? How can a God that is understood as male be a part of me, a female?

C5: You sound very distressed. It's hard when you feel like you are being denied a place in God.

P6: Yes! That is how it feels, like I am being denied, like my essential femaleness is somehow less than important. I know that people say that it shouldn't matter, that God is essentially genderless, but a central part of Anglicanism is 'what we pray is what we believe'. So when we pray to a male God we are internalising this message that God, and Godliness, is male.

C7: You are conflicted.

P8: Yes. When I am on my own I can understand God as genderless or Father or Mother or Spirit or anything really, depending on who I need God to be at that time. God is fluid and ever changing. But when in a group I feel like I need to pray to God the father. And that's when I feel like I am betraying a part of myself. I wouldn't mind if this was one of a number of ways we image God, but it seems to be the predominant one.

C9: So when you are praying in Church or with a group of people, you feel like praying to a male God is separating you from God. That sounds terribly upsetting.

P10: It is. And then I start to wonder how I can belong to a Church, be ordained into a Church, when I disagree so strongly with so much of our tradition.

C11:You worry that if you don't agree with the party line you shouldn't be part of the group?

P12: I guess so. And how can I, who know so little, be right and the whole historical Church be wrong?

C13: You feel like you aren't equipped to make this decision.

P14: But that's silly thinking. No one except me can tell me how I should or shouldn't be feeling. And nothing would ever change if no one ever questioned the status flow. We are celebrating 20 years of women priests this year and that would never have happened if someone, somewhere, hadn't challenged however many years of tradition.

C15: Every change starts small, I guess.

P16: Yes. And I'm not forcing anyone to change the way they talk or think about God, I'm just using my God given gifts and spirit to choose the way I talk and think about God.

C17: You sound a little more positive about that. That you can only be faithful to yourself and God.

P18: I think I am. We don't have to agree with everything our denomination does to be a member of it, especially Anglicanism! I can dislike the gendered language for God and change it within my own sphere and talk to others about it and still be a faithful Anglican, and more importantly a faithful child of God. I really don't feel like God wants me to change who I am in that regard – I am a woman and I am concious of those who find gender a barrier to God. Maybe one of God's paths for me is to challenge this understanding! It's very biblical, after all.

C19: Maybe you are someone who will change the way we understand God, even on a small scale. That sounds exciting.

P20: It is. Exciting and a little daunting. But I know God will lead me, one way or another. I can only do what I feel drawn to do, and hope God will correct me if I go too far astray.

C21: Faith and hope. An excellent combination.

P22: I think so.

At this point the baby needed attention so we wrapped it up.

Analysis:

What happened or was happening in me during the visit? How was I responding?

This is an issue which is close to my own heart, so I felt I really understood where the patient was coming from. It was hard not to give advice or validate what she was saying, but that's not why I was there. It's not about whether or not I approve of what she is doing, but how she feels about it that matters.

Theological Evaluation:

This was one of the rare encounters (for me) which is explicitly theological. I am reminded that Jesus challenged many centuries of tradition in understanding God – and gave us a relational term for speaking to God , 'Abba'. I think it was the relational rather than male aspect of this that is important. And Moses also had trouble defining his role when God summoned him. Maybe it's ok to be confused!

Pastoral Opportunity: I found this very helpful, to have a discussion with myself and dig deeper into how I was feeling. I think this is something I can continue to do.

Supervisory Request: Is speaking to yourself the first sign of insanity? Or is it just using the skills I have been given to grow in God?

Weight(y) Matters

This has been spinning around in my head for some time. Over the last 8 years I have lost a total of 43kg. When I started weight watchers for the first time I weighed 104kg and was a size 18-20. This morning I weighed 61kg and I'm a size 10.

People keep asking me how I did it. Well, as the above states, it took a fair amount of time. But not as long as it looks, because it's not like I was trying to lose weight for all those years! I started weight watchers in (I think) 2004. I have no idea what prompted it - maybe watching Dad struggle with his weight I realised I didn't want that for myself. Mainly I suspect it's because I was sick of struggling to find clothes that fit - I must admit that I am quite vain. It is really hard being 22 and unable to wear any of the clothes that you would like to because they don't exist in your size. But that's a whole 'nother story (rant). That first time on WW I lost 20kg over about 9 months, got down to 84kg and a size 14, and was very happy with that.

When I was pregnant with Abby I went a little overboard on the eating (comfort eating mainly, I do bad pregnant lady) and put on 15kg. When she was 10 weeks old I went back to good old WW and got down to 74kg. Still a size 14 though, which drove me bonkers. But hey, I was fit and healthy and could buy clothes from 'standard' stores, so I was happy.

With William, I was soooo sick and tired all the time I just couldn't face the thought of eating. So I only put on 8 kg the entire pregnancy, 6 of which I lost within weeks of him being born. But now I was determined to get down to my 'healthy' weight, which for me is (apparently) between 51-64kg. I know, I KNOW that the whole BMI thing is a load of crap, that it is meant to be used as a measure of population change not as a perscriptive guide to an individual's weight, but I'm a goal orientated person and I needed a number. So I chose one.

How did I do it? Good question. I think what it comes down to is that I wanted to lose weight more than I wanted to eat more than I needed to. Seriously, that's all it was in the end. I could exercise, meditate and affirm myself to my hearts content but as long as I was eating more than I needed to my weight was not going to change. I wanted to lose weight for me - not because society told me I 'should', not because my best friend or work colleague or random celebrity was, but because I felt that it was time. Time for me to make some positive changes to my life. And I had to want it badly enough to override all the other parts of me that would say 'oh come on, just one slice won't hurt' or 'I'll go for a walk tomorrow and that will make up for it' or 'but I really really want it and denying youself never works anyway'.

William is now 10.5 months old and I am a size 10 for the first time in my life. I've maintained this weight for 2 months so far and it looks like I'll stay this way, The wierd thing though is that despite my size and weight, I'm still the same person I was when I was 22, just 8 years older.

You see, to me, a size 10 was like the holy grail of weight loss. Somehow, when I reached it I would become taller, blonder, smoother, more tanned... because size 10 is model material. People who were small didn't have any body problems - I'm not talking about those sad souls who struggle with eating disorders but those who are naturally (or unnaturally) built small enough to fit into this magic size. I would look at all the beautiful clothes in the magazines, and the even more beautiful people wearing them, and imagine that I would be just like them if I could only shift that last 20/10/5kg.

Of course, I didn't realise all this was going through my head until I reached my current size and was a little bemused to discover that I'm still me. I have horrible skin. I have brown hair and I'm so pale I practically grow in the dark. And you know what? I still have a wobbly, saggy tum. I still have flaps of flesh under my arms. And my butt still looks like an undercooked cake covered in lumpy frosting.

And I still love my body.

I can do high kicks and break boards. I can lift my children and squash them till they're breathless. I can run quite a distance (in an appropriate bra) and I can kick the arse of any foolish teenager who thinks I'm an easy target because I'm short and (now) slight. (You see this black belt? You SEE this black belt? You wanna take me on? HUH?).

Am I healthier, fitter, stronger now than I was as a size 14? I don't know. I will always get sick a lot, that's just the way my body works. But I sure eat a hell of a lot better than I used to, and if I have eaten half a roll of uncooked peanut paste/choc chip biccies today I'll work it off tomorrow. I no longer beat myself up about the occasional slice of pizza or piece of cake, because it really is occasional. And if I know I want to comfort eat I'll reach for the apricots or the nuts instead of the chips or chocolate.

I'm more flexible now. I can kick almost over my shoulder, which is a new and somewhat frightening experience. I can run further, although I'm not sure how much of that is general fitness and how much is because my poor breasts are finally starting to get a little smaller.

I guess the most important thing is though, am I happier?

Am I?

You know what, I think I am. Because I am finally treating my body the way it deserves to be treated. Because I know my kids will grow up seeing a mother who is comfortable an secure in her body and who eats well, not to lose weight but as a natural response to hunger.

And I can fit in to size 10 skinny jeans. So you'll have to excuse me while my size ten butt walks over to the oven. There's some biccies a-bakin'.

Sermon for Pentacost

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27 And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Today we are given three different pictures of the Holy Spirit. It blows through the house like a violent wind and dances on heads like tongues of fire, empowering people to speak in other languages so that all might hear what God has done in Jesus Christ (Acts).  It stands beside us as the Advocate who speaks from God in order to guide us into the truth (John). 

And when all those words are inadequate, when all that speaking cannot express what is deepest within us, the Spirit intercedes on our behalf with wordless, inexpressible groans (Romans).  It was true in the time of Paul and the Gospel writers, and it remains true today: the Spirit is as close as wind and words and no words.  The Spirit in this passage hovers over two equally true realities.  On the one hand, our adoption papers have already been served; we have a place in the family of God.  Together with the whole of creation, already we are caught up in God as heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.  Already we have tasted the fruits of the Spirit, the life-giving, life-altering reality of living within God's embrace. 

What does this look like to you? Where in your life have you seen the changes that living in the sure knowledge of the eternal love and of Christ brings? This is not a rhetorical question. It is one that I would really like you to think about, and maybe to share if you feel comfortable. I'll go first.

In 2010 I was diagnosed with bowel cancer. It was a scary time – I was only 28, I had a 3 year old daughter and obviously I was terrified! It made me confront my own mortality in the most real way for the first time. I had always said, both to myself and to others, that in my personal prayer life I did not pray for God to influence external events but internal realities. So, to use a rather trivial example, I would not ask God to help me pass my exams but to give me the mindset to study and the focus to retain. Suddenly, I was confronted with a situation that was not at all trivial. There were two weeks between finding out I had a tumour and the surgery that would both remove it and tell us how serious this was going to be. Those were the scariest two weeks of our lives.

And I prayed. I prayed a lot. But to my surprise, when confronted with the possible end of my life, with leaving my daughter and husband and family, I didn't pray for God to take the tumour away, or to minimise it's effects on me. In my world, God doesn't work like that. I prayer for strength, for courage, for serenity, for wisdom... for myself, my family and the wonderful team of doctors who were responsible for my wellbeing.

And God answered my prayers.

We made it through that terrible time, we were incredibly lucky that the skilled surgeon was able to remove the tumour before it spread, and I am now living cancer free, hopefully for the rest of my life! But it was with the God's grace shown in and through me in the Holy Spirit that made our cancer journey, and I say our because as I'm sure you know it is never just one person affected by such an illness, what it was. Through all the pain and fear it became a life giving, life affirming experience, not just for me but for the people around me. If I hadn't had God to carry me through, if I hadn't felt the Spirit at work in and around me, this would have been a much harder time that it turned out to be. I thank God daily still, not just for my healing but for the way the Spirit filled me and the people around me to ensure I was surrounded by divine love shown through human hands.

Would I do it again? Well, yes... and no. I can put a positive spin on it as much as I like, but although the surgery itself went well, the recovery was long and sometimes brutal. It took well over a year before I really felt back to normal. There were times when I did feel deserted. There were times when I couldn't find the words to talk to God – me, for whom words are such an integral part of my being! And there still are. Times when something so unbelievably hard happens, when we can't find the words to call on God. Times when creation itself must be groaning in immeasurable pain at what is happening to her, when the words to call God just aren't there.

And it is then, in those very times when we feel most alone, that the Spirit is at hand. When we are mired in the darkest of despair, when humanity seems to be failing ourselves and the world around us – that is when the Spirit intercedes on our behalf.

Because standing in the middle of this passage is hope. Hope that this dark time will end, that no matter how wrong it seems there is some right that will come of it, hope that we are all God's children, in our despair as well as in our joy. And when we can't find this hope, when all really is lost, when we are forced to contemplate a life or even a death that is so different from what we had planned, the Spirit hopes on our behalf, the church endures with us, the whole creation groans in solidarity.  We are not alone.

Knowing that God is present in the midst of our greatest need is good news that enables us to endure.  What does that look like where you are?  For me it came in the reassurance that should something happen to me, my children are surrounded by people who will love them and support them. That the God I love will never separate me from them for as long as they need me – if not in body then in spirit. Thinking of the floods, I can see so many ways the Spirit has flowed through others in order to help others endure. Sometimes it is with food, money, shelter, hope... sometimes with a presence who will just listen and be. Sometimes the Spirit is at work through me in a way that I don't even recognise at the time, in a way that I may never know – we touch people's lives every day through actions or words that are small and meaningless to us but Christ like to others.

When we have our morning tea together today, when we bond through fellowship and Spirit, why don't we try and share a way the Spirit has helped us through our labours. Let's own it. Let's share it. And in the words of Paul, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit”.

Amen.

Death and the Maiden.

OK, so I haven't been a maiden for... ahem... quite a while. But death is on my mind at the moment.

After CPE on Wednesday I borrowed a book from one of the facilitators. It was a book of stories, experiences really, written by a lady who has been a palliative care hospice worker for many years. I devoured it all. In about 2 hours. To be honest, that was probably a really baaad idea. Hey Josie, let's read a whole heap of stories about death right before you go to bed! Sweet dreams!

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Most of the stories were... beautiful. Death is a very natural process, and by the time you are in a hospice you are prepared for the journey. There were stories of gentle endings, permission being given and accepted, people leaving this life in love and faith. But there was one that I can't find the beauty in.

A young, single mum to a nine year old boy was dying. By the time the carer was there, she had only hours to live. She was in a coma, but she wasn't peaceful. The carer describes herself as a midwife to the dying, and she described this woman as having contractions when she would get very distressed, calling out her son's name as her body spasmed. These grew shorter and softer until she died. The carer stayed with her, reassured her that she was not alone in this journey, that God was waiting for her... but as she died she was still calling for her son. He was on her mind to the end, she felt that she couldn't leave him... but she had to.

This hurts.

I can't help but put myself in her place. She didn't KNOW that her son would be taken care of, loved and cherished as she did.  Or maybe she did. I have to read the story again (probably many times) but I'm going of my impressions for this one. The thing is, she did not die at peace and with acceptance, she fought right up to the end... for her son.

I spoke to my facilitator about this story today. Clearly I am identifying very strongly with this mum. I don't want to die. Obviously I'm not expecting to, but we don't get a choice as to when death comes. She suggested that I write down would I would feel as a loss if I were to die today.

So what would I lose?

My children. That's the thing. I would lose my children, helping them grow up, sharing their stories, kissing and hugging them, feeding their minds and souls, loving them. I would lose my family, my friends, my husband.... but mainly my children.

But would I?

I believe in God. I believe that life doesn't end when we leave this world. I believe that God wants what is best for us. So I MUST believe that death could NOT separate me from my children.

There is no way I can lose my babies. Even if I am not physically present, I WILL be there, loving them, nurturing them, teaching them. Nothing can separate me from them, nothing in this life or the next. God CAN NOT do that, not the God of love that I know and worship. I know that one day my babies will be grown up and they will move on and have families of their own. I know that one day (hopefully many, MANY years from now) I will be ready to let them go. But that time is not now.





There is another difference between me and that mum. I was thinking about all the people that would have to die before my children would not be loved with the same intensity I do. Jason, my parents, Jason's mum, Tim and Cath, Jen, Bill, Margaret, Britta, Dee and Chris, James and Emily, Mel, Warren, Ethan and Eliza, the Jordans, Elizabeth...  and that's just the start. My children are blessed with so much love they will never lack for it. If I have to die I would fight it for as long as I can, but when I couldn't fight anymore I think I could leave in peace knowing that I was only leaving in body, that I will be there for my little ones as long as they need me, and that they will never lack for deeply passionate Mother love.

Wow.

I love you Abigail. I love you William. Now and forever.

To my boychick

I love you baby boy.

My favourite time of day is when I'm giving you your last feed of the night. I go to bed around 8pm and your Daddy brings you in to me about 9pm. You're a little asleep, a little awake and very dopey. You're wearing your sleepsuit and you smell like baby. You lie beside me and feed, your little starfish hands stroke me or hold me. You make little happy noises in your sleep.

Some nights when you've had enough you roll over onto your other side. Then you change your mind, roll back and have some more. Other nights you feed and suck and suck and feed till your daddy comes back at 9:30 and takes you back to your bed.

I love you baby boy.