Ho ho holy moly it's Christmas!

As ever, I am loving this Christmas period. I have been avoiding Mariah's All I Want For Christmas (is to cut off my ears so I never have to hear this song) wherever possible, taking advantage of my 'mince pies for breakfast' rule and am looking forward to a rest in the middle of nowhere with my family.

The unseasonal rainy weather, the striking emptiness of Shakin' Steven's terrible song and the atmosphere in the M&S food hall 48 hours before the big day, all amplify how hollow this season can become. We are expected to listen to crappy 80s Christmas tunes, drunkenly get with a lesser-known colleague and nurse a hangover through the queen's speech at an awkward family get together. 
"Because it's Christmas". 

What does that even mean?!?!

And for those who struggle, we are for some reason expected to slap on a smile and enjoy ourselves, "because it's Christmas", full in the knowledge that tomorrow it will be over and we will be faced with the brutal reality of normal life. 

So here's my take on it. We should point people to the 'real reason for Christmas'. Not because I Guess We Ought To, but because the real reason for Christmas is the only thing that stops this holiday being at best a period of anticlimactic escapism and at worst a brutal reminder of all that is lost or still to be or not quite right. 

Okay so I recognise that thus far, this is mega depressing. Apologies for that. Ho ho ho and all that. 

BUT. 

But, the fact is that the 'real reason for Christmas' is more beautiful, more healing, more mind-blowing that any amount of lights or presents or cheeky smooches under mistletoe. 

But, the only thing that could actually save us from such overwhelming despair came into our brokenness and flooded us with light. 

But, we have this hope that even in great darkness, death will not have the final say. 

But, even when I am forced to take down the decorations and face the bleak, Christmas-less midwinter of January, there is a hope that shines no less brightly for not being covered in tinsel. 

Happy Christmas y'all, hope it's a great one. 

And if it's not, hope you're encouraged that the light celebrated at Christmas shines into our futures and all that we face.

NB: A guy called Glen Scrivener has written on this topic an awful lot better than me. Check out his blog here.

Breather

I have to admit the one good thing about the sh***y times in life. They do on the whole make you savour the good times a whole lot more.

Take last night for instance. We had our collection of London friends around to eat, drink and generally celebrate both our birthdays and one year of residence here. Nothing particularly extraordinary happened - except for a gathering of people we care about in the same room.

Yet I savoured the evening, one of normal nice things, happiness and hopefulness - one to encourage me that life can still be beautiful, that there have been and are and will be good times. And in the midst of difficult times, these moments - a day or an hour - are a relief, a respite from the daily grind and struggles to face. A breather before the next wave of difficult reality crashes over us. And I'm so grateful for these times, the breathers which offer a moment to reflect on the good stuff before we must once again confront Monday morning and all it will throw at us.

Sometimes these happy times aren't how we expected them to be - sometimes people we always thought would be there are missing from the photos - but this doesn't detract from all the good and beauty of the evening.

Life is unexpected, surprising; bumpy.  But there are moments where you get washed up on the shore and have a moment to stop, reflect and enjoy the sunshine.

Letter to an unknown friend

Dear friend,

Do you ever sit at work and wonder if you're wasting your life away? 

I stare across at my colleague's equally blank face, and I wonder if she's thinking exactly the same thing. We spend 70% of our lives doing something we don't enjoy. We work 9 till 5 until we're 70, and then what? When I stare out the window, am I actually watching my life ebb away?

I spend my morning reading e-mails from people saying they don't want to receive our e-mails. I sever the communication ties. I know I shouldn't complain: someone has to do it, right? All things for the glory of God, right? Graduate employment is high, and yet I've been given a job.

I know I need to be humble about mundane tasks. But there is a 'but', I'm not sure what it is, BUT... I'm not okay with this. Life is fleeting and short - far too short, surely, to spend many minutes staring out the window wondering if I ought to be doing something else.

Because there's a whole world out there - full of people and problems and emotions and social structures and need. What am I doing about it? God gave me a brain and I intend to use it to change the world for the better.

Now I know that I'm one of the fortunate few that I even have the chance to consider that there might be something wrong with this, and that I have opportunity to do something about it. But I intend to take that precious opportunity and do something about it.

When I woke up this morning, I said to myself, "Today is going to be a good day". But then, I did quite a bit of crying today, so I'm not sure how that works.

I don't want to spend my life waiting and wishing and living for the weekend. Because that's only like 30% of our whole lives. And then sometimes you get to the weekend, and you still feel crap, and then what?

I remember I was in science class once and I was chatting to my teacher. I told him, "I want to get finished with school and college, so I can get on and start living my life". And he said, "but you're living your life right now". I hate to think that one day I'll look back at this time and wonder what I was doing waiting around.

But where do I go from here?

Yours,
Bewildered and Confused

Which way?

Maybe it's because it's grey and rainy, and my usually favourite season of autumn 

is showing its unpleasant damp side. Maybe it's the recent changes in my life, or a 

lack of time spent with my Heavenly Father. Or maybe it's just from spending time 

in the presence of good friends facing exactly the same sort of questions. But 

something about life right now seems to be throwing into sharp illumination the 

vague,grey form my life appears to have taken on at the moment. I feel like Rachel,

Phoebe and Monica from Friends in the episode where Rachel realises she has no plan

in life, and Phoebe assents that this stage is 'floopy'. Yes, on one hand, my 

freedom means apparent doors of opportunity, adventure, and possibility ahead - 

but in real life, it usually means a misty fog lying ahead of me, with no clear 

path or even vague light to direct the way. 
 

What is it about this stage of life - post-university, pre-full blown career, 

marriage, family - that makes me, us, feel so directionless? Is it just that we're

so accustomed to having life directed by the education system, or the ties of 

family, that we are thrown by suddenly having to carve out a way for ourselves, by 

ourselves?
 

This sense of 'floopiness' can seep into every part of life - not just work/career, 

though for many of us that's the primary example. My year was one of the last who 

was still instilled with the mantra that one should go to university in order to 

get a good job. Now we're out in the real world, and this mantra has fallen flat 

on its face. Graduates are two-a-penny; degrees appear worthless without 

'experience'; that degree exploring how to make the world a better place seems

 kind of unecessary when we find our jobs wrapped up in writing e-mails and 

ordering stationary. The great, ambitious plans of falling into career out of 

university are unmasked as foolish preconceptions of an easy life.
 

There are all sorts of brilliant talks, books, articles, on guidance, and trusting 

God. I'm aware that so many of our problematic doubts or 'floopy' feelings can 

transpire because of our desire to know what lies ahead and to be in control. 

However, right now, those things don't concern me. I'm not asking for a map-out 

of the next 20 years; I'm just asking for some vague sense of where I go next - 

in careers, in geographical location, in pretty much every aspect of life. And 

I'll admit that I'm impatient; life is too short for me to sit around watching 

life and opportunities to live pass me by. Maybe I should accept that sometimes 

God only allows the fog to lift when we force ourselves to stop and wait on Him. 
 

At times like this, it is far too easy to allow the bleakness of the weather, 

the relative loneliness of post-studenthood life, and the vague mist shrouding 

all that lies ahead, to get the better of me and be overwhelmed by it. As ever, 

my only choice is to force myself to lift my eyes to Him who has seen the end 

from the beginning, and is intimately involved and actually caring about the 

direction of my life. I have to stand, and fight as hard as I can against the 

strong current which seeks to floor me in the face of uncertainty and options. 

I have a choice about the way ahead: I can put my fears and apprehension about 

the future into the hands of him who holds it all; or I can be washed up by the 

sheer enormity of the choices ahead. I need to choose to be comforted by the fact 

that, however I feel on a Monday morning, my life is not directionless, that I Am 

Not on my own in this, and that God Is still at work in my life, even if it feels 

like He's having an extended tea-break.
 

I have to continually remind myself that my trust is in Him who is eternally 

loving, who doesn't forget, or get overwhelmed, or 'drop the ball' on us. 

And that, therefore, my future is in the safest of hands, the most reliable of 

Fathers.  

"...faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see." 

~ Hebrews 11:1

One Year On: Things I've learnt.

Today marks one year since Hannah and I arrived at our new home in south-east London to start the next stage of life. I cannot get over how much has changed since then – cue some emotional nostalgia.

We arrived in the middle of the Olympics, the whole city revelling in sun and sporting success. The playlist of those weeks was Emeli Sande and Florence & The Machine. We were introduced to Blackheath and watched Usain Bolt's 100 metre win on a sunny evening on the heath with locals.

A whole year on, I think I’ve learnt a few things about myself, the world, London, and life. I thought I’d fill you in....

1.      People DO (occasionally) smile on the tube. In fact, a man did actually speak to me once. But he was American, so maybe that doesn’t count. Similarly, in the early days I informed a colleague that I relished smiling at strangers on the tube – and that some actually smiled back. I was bluntly informed that “That’s cos they think you’re mental”. Well, at least she was honest. 

      Another thing I’ve learnt is that a morning commute essentially means you will be forced to share a highly un-British and uncomfortably small amount of space with complete strangers. This inevitably results in the unsociability that pervades London transport: the only way you can get through a train ride with your face in someone else’s armpit is to avoid all eye contact.

2.      After a whole year, working near travelling past the London Eye, South Bank and Westminster hasn’t got old yet. But having to shove through huge crowds of tourists all taking the same shot of Big Ben did, really quickly.

3.      I can manage a whole month living alone in a new city, without being found half-eaten by Alsatians (a concern at one point – see here)

4.      One of the most valuable things for getting settled into a new place is good friends and family to show you round – thank you Emily and siblings.

5.      No matter how cold it is outside, when on board a train you will need to remove almost all clothing to avoid sweating profusely.

6.      A good thing about our location is that people often want to stay over for the night. Guests include: Mim, Shepka, Luke, Fran & Miller, Lydia, Hannah, Tingley & Pete, Becky and Colette. Fortunate guests of Chateau Cope-Randerson will have become accustomed to Hannah’s ridiculously loud coffee maker, and my loud singing in the shower (actually, my loud singing full stop).

7.      Don’t dress up in a dragon onesie in front of your boss – unless you decide you care more about having fun than getting a promotion. Ditto, dalek costumes.

8.      The best place to go and think about the Big Things of life during your lunch break is Parliament Square. Even if it’s sleeting and 2° outside. Parliament Square is also a brilliant setting for a motivating walk to work – walking along past statues of Churchill, Abe Lincoln and Nelson Mandela really gears oneself up for a day of e-mails and stapling.

9.      On that note – unless you do a grad-scheme or ‘get lucky’, your first job out of uni will likely be occasionally interesting, but often boring. Once you start, you will realise just how little you know, and how young you feel (although dressing up as a Dalek probably didn’t help my case). The more you learn, the more you’ll realise your ignorance. But God has been showing me this year that it’s not what I do but who I am doing it for.

10.  The only way to walk in central London, is quickly. If you’re not going to walk quickly, get out of our way.

11.  In addition – something about London makes me more impatient. And perhaps, people generally. Maybe it is that Londoners have become so used to accessing whatever so quickly – materials, food, transport, entertainment – that even a brief wait is too long and perceived as an inconvenience.

12.  Google maps, Google maps, Google maps. Forget the London A-Z. This little treasure was the one thing that (usually) stopped me getting completely overwhelminghly lost in London, and the one thing that means I turn up to vaguely the right event venue at vaguely the right time.

13.  Going to church on your own for the first time is really daunting, even if you’re a Full-On Extrovert. Be especially friendly to the people who turn up looking awkward and new-ish. Unless you stay in the same place your entire life, one day it will be you.

14.  If your flatmate comes home excited after a wedding, chances are she got engaged whilst she was away.

15.  Don’t travel through central London, on your own, on New Years’ Eve. You will be forced to traipse up and down the Strand following policemens’ directions and be immersed in a shoving crowd of drunk revellers all trying to get home.

16.  Living with a hyper-organised person will, on the whole, make you more organised. Lists can be useful. Planning can be fun. (Oh gosh, who have I become?) Living with Hannah means making sure the toilet lid is kept down at all times (except, when you’re using it) and the DVDs are alphebetised – Richard, take note.

17.  In a similar vein, the past year of living with Hannah has also taught me that: 1) salad can be a tasty meal (provided it involves meat and the word ‘Epic’ is placed in front);  2) One can apparently never have enough couscous; 3) Made In Chelsea is ridiculous, but also shamefully addictive; 4) if your flatmate rearranges the entire living room furniture, the world does not actually end; 5) Don’t Ever Touch Hannah When She’s Hot; 6) The only way to plan a wedding 18 months in advance is with multiple spreadsheets.

18.  Things I have taught Hannah: 1) Spontaneity CAN be fun; 2) If I go too long without a hug I am prepared to chase her around the living room until she gives in; 3) I will happily shout ‘HANNYBEAR, WAIT FOR ME’ in public if I want to embarrass her at any point; 4) The Guardian is a normal newspaper and not only for hippies; 5) I am remarkably calm in a panic situation, say, when the brakes stop working whilst Hannah is driving.

19.  Working in central London will expose you to people who have a lot more than you and people with a lot less. Trying to remain content in every situation is difficult but valuable.

20.  Trafalgar Square is a fantastic location for a game of Where’s Thea.

21.  The journey between London and Birmingham is not all that long and completely worth it when there are lovely people to see at the other end.

22.  If the landlady tells you that your flat is in a quiet neighbourhood, what she means is that you won’t speak to your neighbours all year (except a fateful evening after the first day of the new job where upstairs’ flood leaks through to your flat). You will, however, be sharing a neighbourhood with people who get arrested under the terrorism act, and a man who enjoys blasting a single reggae song from his penthouse at bizarre times of night.

But I guess more than any of this, the most important thing I’ve learnt over the past year is that God is so incredibly, immensely faithful. He had to ‘throw me out of the nest’ (so to speak) for me to fly. A year ago, I was bewildered, daunted, fearful, and totally doubting what I was doing here (read my blog here). My mum pointed me to Exodus and the Israelites’ doubting God’s purposes for them after Egypt. I was forced to hold on and trust that God had a plan in this. Being dragged (kicking and screaming, as it sometimes felt) to London, by God, was exactly what I needed to get stronger, grow and have loads of exciting adventures. I’ve seen for myself that God can bring us out of the valleys, that he is the one who ‘restores my soul’. It was by being thrown so totally out of my comfort zone that I have flourished and come to really full-on love life again.

I am Happy.

This month's blog comes with a disclaimer: there is a small chance that I am currently under the influence, that is, inebriated, with the heady, blissful fragrance of spring sunshine. 

That's right, after seemingly endless months of grey, freezing days, I am FINALLY enjoying a warm spring evening. At one point I truly did believe that the White Witch had returned to curse us with an eternal winter, but surely as my hope in Jesus has not been displaced, neither has my trust that spring would, finally, arrive. 

I say I'm under the influence because it is shocking and (some might say) concerning how affected I am by this gorgeous sunny weather. 

But, whilst fully accepting the role a healthy dose of much-needed vitamin D has played on my mood, I feel the need to declare that, aside from this, 

I am happy.

I'm really happy.

I LOVE life.

It’s fair to say that anyone who's known me for a while knows that I would not always have said this, and I'm not the type of person to slap a fake smile on a crappy situation. I'm for authenticity - being real when things are tough, saying it as it is. I believe our hope in Jesus frees us to admit not only our blessings but our struggles and sorrows.

Last year, if I'm truly honest with you, a lot of the time I did not love life.

Sometimes (without being melodramatic), I severely disliked life. But just as I felt the need to be honest about that, I feel the need now to declare that right now, life is REALLY good. 

Most of the time, I'm not struggling with crippling anxiety. I'm peaceful and confident and fiercely determined to fight this beast. 

I live in an amazing city. I LOVE it. Yes, you all get sick of me posting countless pictures of Big Ben. But I do it because I'm still so excited to be living and working in this iconic place. I'm amazed at this blessing, to not only have a job, one I can cope with, but where the people are friendly. Actually, most of the time my job is really pretty dull. But in this time and season, God's not only giving me an opportunity to develop important skills for working life, but is also teaching me about His ability to be glorified through all aspects of our work, however boring or menial.

I have amazing relationships that are life- and joy-giving, some that are deeply rooted and others that are in their infancy. 

I'm at a place in life where, crazily enough, despite not knowing what my 'next step' is and without a plan, I am happy, peaceful and content. Within the last year, I've come from a place of sometimes despair, through fear, uncertainty, and through to a current place of flourishing and fruitfulness. If you look back to my blog from 6 months ago, I was feeling daunted and very apprehensive about this new place God had brought me to. And yet embracing this new place and season of life has, I believe, been God’s way of bringing me out into a spacious and fruitful place, one where I can grow.

For that the only One to be praised is the living God, who daily shows his power in restoring broken things for His glory, and making beautiful things out of ugly situations.

When things are really good like this, I get scared – things can’t be this good, I can’t be this healthy – surely something will go wrong. And yet, in Jesus, I have the freedom to fully embrace the fact that this peace and happiness may only be a season, and could be interrupted by sorrow or relapse. However, that’s not for me to know. Right now I’m in a place of flourishing, happiness, and gratitude for all of this.

I have to remind myself that my happiness is ultimately not grounded in whether the sun shines or life looks sunny, but in my unshakeable Saviour and the hope I have in Him.

Keeping warm against the January blues

“Meaningless! Meaningless!... Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

I really hope you enjoyed that encouraging, positive beginning to the blogs of 2013.

Now let’s be honest here, I’m generally a fairly positive person (I even get chastised for enthusiasm at work). However, yesterday was officially deemed to be ‘Blue Monday’, the most depressing day of the year (or something like that). 

    Now who knows how they reached that kind of consensus (and if you ask me, the way to perk everyone up on a Monday morning is not to announce that this is the day everyone will feel depressed). But I’m also going to be honest and say that this verse did pass through my mind as I trudged home tonight through the slushy remnants of snow and constant freezing temperatures.

It’s stupidly cold, and whilst London is still exciting, I guess in some senses the novelty is wearing off (well it had to, sooner or later). Don’t get me wrong, I’m still very grateful to be here and I LOVE London – but aside from anything else, it’s too darn cold and dark to do much once a day at the office is done.

   5 months into the job, and I start questioning where I am and where I’m going. Actually, let’s just do that for the whole of life. WHERE ARE YOU GOING IN YOUR LIFE? Eh? EH?

But just take one minute to stop; breathe; fix my eyes on Him again, and the blindingly obvious suddenly dawns on me, yet again. 

   This whole putting my future (and come to that, my present) in God’s hands and for His glory – it’s not about my career development, or wearing a big white dress, or future happiness (whatever that even looks like). It’s about Him and me, doing life right now, for His glory. Right now, I don’t even have to be able to see further than tomorrow. He goes before me, and that makes everything possible.

And, breathe.

Autumn Routines

It’s a wonder how quickly randomness turns to routine, even faster than the leaves turning orange and brown and the sunshine bowing out for another year.

Even since my last post, things seem to have moved on rather a lot. I’m ‘settled’, I think it’s safe to say, although how long it will take to be truly settled, and how one measures that, may be rather harder to ascertain  But I do feel settled and happy; London’s an amazing city and I love that I have so much more to explore yet. 

My own Bridget Jones comparisons haven’t stopped - I’ve made a number of stuff-ups at work, and although my skirts are considerably longer and I’m not yet overweight, I am heading that way. Healthy-eating rears its head for the occasional lunchbreak before being silenced by chocolate cravings on a Tuesday afternoon.

I still don’t know where I’m going, where life is heading, and still, that’s okay. I know it’s being guided by the One who holds the sun and the stars in place- what an incredible thought. I have to remind myself of that all the time; that I’m right here doing what I’m doing for a reason, whether I know what it is or not.

And so, this is the pattern that each day takes- attempting to live it for God’s glory, praying that He will make beautiful things from my mistakes, clumsiness and weak efforts. 

Walking in the Dark

Sometimes being here feels wonderful and exciting and I can’t believe God’s blessing in bringing me to this place and blessing me with a job. Other times, like today, I wonder what on earth I’m doing here. God, why did you bring me here? Why did you take me out of the place I knew, from the people I loved, to set up camp in this random place where transport never stops and the orange smog never clears? And why bring me to something I clearly can’t do, with challenges beyond my reach, struggling out of my depth? What’s wrong with me being in on Your plans?

   

The wisdom of my incredible mother took me to Exodus, where it didn’t take a lot of reading or praying to see myself reflected page after page in the fearful, cynical Israelites. They change their mind more often than the British weather. One minute they’re praising God for getting them out of Egypt; the next they’re challenging His decision to ever get them out in the first place. So it is with me. I prayed for a job and a new direction. God gave me a job and a new location. I told him I couldn’t do it. He gave me a friend to take the step with me. He gave me incredible family and friends. He provided lovely people at a good church. He heard my friend’s prayer and put not one but two Christians in the place I work. He answered every fear of the last weeks. And yet after one yucky day, I hear myself say to God, ‘What were you doing bringing me here?’ And turning on myself to say ‘Why did you ever think you could make it?’ Just like the Israelites, I spent last year moaning to God that I didn’t have a job and didn’t know what to do and needed Him to make radical changes in my life. Now that I have a job and a new direction, all I can do is moan at God that He took me from a place I was apparently so happy in and put me in a job I find challenging.

   

The interesting thing about the exodus from Egypt is that even though the Israelites cry out to God for freedom, they have no way of attaining it; and the minute they get a taste of it, they’d rather go back to the known, even if that means turning their back on freedom.

I totally get this. Even if the present state is mediocre or paralysing or ridden with anxiety or holds you hostage- it’s a much safer option than flying into the unknown, even on the promise of your God. Or so I would see it. Surely, however, we’re  most safe when we are relying fully on God and where He wants to place us, even if it feels more risky than our own known prisons. This reminds me of my favourite lyrics, potentially ever, from Brooke Fraser’s ‘C.S Lewis Song’:

-          “‘cos my comfort would prefer for me to be numb / than enjoy the impending birth of who I was born to become”

My comfort is a lot better off knowing exactly what restrictions, strongholds and barriers surround my own life. I’ve got used to living with them. It’s far more frightening to trust God and believe that He is the one who can bring us into more freedom.

Similarly, this move means growing pains and effort and tiredness and emotion; a lot more bother than I would have had if I’d stayed where I was. Instead of complaining that God has brought me out here to sink, or thinking that God won’t be bothered with me now that I’m not involved in full-time Christian ministry, I have a choice, a leap in the dark. I can choose to believe that He’s brought me here and, just as with the Israelites, He will graciously hear my unfounded complaints and choose to bless me despite them.

Starting Out: Lessons from Bridget Jones

    So I knew this would all be hard, but I don’t think I realised how much or in what ways. Pretty good day at the office trundles along and is punctuated by a freak-out and then growing realisation that I am spending my evening doing precisely zilch, with precisely no one. Which isn’t necessarily a problem, but when I try to think back to the last time I purposefully spent an evening on my own, I begin to wonder if it was when I was in the womb. (Even then I was as close to my mum as physically possible). As I moved down to the city I jokingly compared myself to Bridget Jones (not the first time the connection’s been made... concerning). And as I look into my fridge which will soon be empty, my mind wanders to the part of the film where Bridget contemplates her future being found by a neighbour two weeks later, half-eaten by Alsatians. Well, I guess that’s one possibility. Although not sure how the Alsatians would get in.

 I could resort to Bridget’s other coping techniques- joining a gym and starting an intense exercise regime (yeah, right); eating my weight in Ben and Jerry’s (pretty tempting right now); or drinking a lot of vodka (less tempting).

New coping strategies include:

-          Taking extended commutes home and subsequently exploring the wider South East London area. I’m already getting quite good at this as I’ve managed to get on the wrong train twice, despite many year’s experience of getting on and off trains (let’s face it, it’s not exactly difficult). Note to self: check departure boards more closely. Or, choose more interesting places to accidentally go to.

-          Blaring music very loudly through my flat and dancing. If I close my eyes, it will almost be like being in a club. Almost.

-          Picking up a new hobby. Actually, I have borrowed a short CD Course in speaking Greek from my local library. (Oh gosh, could I sound any more like a middle-aged man?) So I guess I’ll scrub up my language skills. Ka-ta-la-ven-eh-day.

-          Making friends with strangers on the tube. Just today, I stood on at least two people’s feet on my way to work. That’s gotta count for something, surely. All I need to do is get names, numbers, email addresses and I could make friends with all sorts of randoms across the city.

Or I could just come to terms with the fact that moving somewhere you don’t know many people and effectively living on my own for the next month whilst flatmate is away is going to be a bit tough at times, especially for an Extreme Extrovert and Needy Person like myself.

To be fair, if I’m following in the footsteps of Bridget Jones, it’s not long before Colin Firth’s about to invite himself over and then fight with Hugh Grant in a Greek restaurant (see, told you the language lessons would come in handy). I doubt it’ll be quiet for long.