Gay Lego and why we need other people

 

Back in June I bought my first set of lego for many many years.  Diverse, respectful of Trans and non white heritage, beautifully striped, neatly made, it has sat on my shelf with the figures all orderly and sat on their right coloured stripes.

It feels like a brave and happy thing.  I don't see being made in God's image as a problem to be solved, or something that I need to hide or cringe about anymore. If Exeter had had Pride this year, I  would have donned a purple "Christians at Pride" T shirt and joined in, or been a steward if allowed to volunteer.  What an incredible transformation those words are from the person who would have argued that God's will was singleness.  I still opt for singleness, but know that this is a happenstance, a chosen option, not a forced decision because of who God has made me.

Yesterday my lego got rearranged. First the figures waved - that was the total extent of my tranformation.  My spiritual director, delighted at seeing the completed set, which she had first seen as heap of little plastic shapes tipped out on her table, moved the black lady to the pink spot.  And vice versa.  I felt slightly uncomfortable. Change very rarely comes at my hand!

"Leave it on your shelf" she said "your visitors will play"  Not just the visitors but the homeowner. It occurred to me that transposing the colours and the wigs would be far more fun.  

And so it is.

At work, I make tiny modifications, ususally when prompted.  Today, doing church felt awkward, happy, strange and encouraging - singing - weird - talking over tea and excellent sticky pastries to celebrate our vicar going on maternity leave.  I'm still trying to work out where an overthinking, friendly person who would prefer to blog and to read fits in. But in all contexts of my life I am very slowly and hesitantly learning that as much as I need other people maybe they also need me.

Hillsong

 Last night I caught up on watching a documentary on Hillsong church.  My colleague Marcus had mentioned watching it.  It followed the development of the brand, the mega church, the power and influence of the main pastor and his all white, mostly all male leaders through many nations.

It was very difficult to watch, in that I am middle aged, a follower of Jesus, and I was never, ever cool, one of the in crowd - I always felt an outsider at school.  When I was a teenager, I was part of a church that edged towards this level of control, power encounters with God, a family who led and still lead the church.  It didn't do much for my young faith except lead to one incredibly unwise decision that I wasn't equipped to make.

Occasional forays into a scaled down version of Hillsong would be the women's conferences held by my friend's church in Cheltenham racecourse.  With lights, big screens, smoke machine, powerful speakers, prayer ministry, and the gimmicky and expensive goodie bags and merchandising.  I felt uncomfortable, awkward, manipulated, yet I found it a memorable experience because my good friend loved it so much. It was time spent with her where she found God at work. That meant a lot to me.  

So I can see the appeal.

The young pastor, tattoed, with "fedora, leathers, skinnies and boots" the hillsong brand "starter kit" was incredibly passionate about living all out for Jesus.  It is so hard to question that, it is an attractive thing.  But the film did make me think - this is all about image, all about numbers, "insta" and selfies - particularly the selfies and filming at the holy sites in Jerusalem were awkward - other christians were lost in devotion, these cool young guys were like tourists with little understanding of their faith but so much enthusiasm. 

Despite all the abuse - a history of sexual abuse not reported, abuse of power, control, money irregularities, I felt conflicted.

Here is a church which gets young people committed to Christ, to reading the bible, to bringing their friends to church.  It provides a home and family for the lost and lonely, the city kids, the damaged.

It is smart, it is definitely somewhere you would not be ashamed of attending.  It has amazing music, quality drama, plaform speakers whose rhetoric is easy to digest.

And yet, and this is a criticism levelled at me, it seemed so far from the Jesus in the gospels. I know I hide my faith too often, I know it is isn't centre stage sometimes and these extrovert guys just want the world to know they love Jesus - what is not to like about that?

Like the young pastor, I pray I will have Jesus' integrity, his honour, his love and ability to sacrifice.  I just wonder if that is what my colleagues see, worked out day by day.

On middle aged reading

 This morning I met up with a friend for tea and cake.  We shared a lemon muffin chosen on the basis of eeny-meeny-miney-mo, or however it is actually spelt.  Sharp, sweet, light and very good but how you eat an entire one on your own I am not sure.

My friend loves books - we used to be in the same bookgroup.  She likes the kind of books where nothing happens but there is lots of meaningful dialogue and deep and intensely thought provoking ideas floating around.  I like thrillers, murder mysteries, nature books, history and straightforward biographies.  It is a good thing we are different, as it allows our ideas to cross-pollinate.

Currently I am reading Monty Don "My garden world" which is when my friends tells me I am becoming very middle aged.  She has a huge crush on Monty Don - I once tried to find her a calendar featuring him, but obviously I wasn't too successful. Firemen, footballers, nature scenes but not BBC2 style garden show presenters.  I tell her that I am a one woman weed destruction machine, having spent several hours clearing what friends jokingly call "Armegeddon" - a patch of nettles, thistles, grasses and the odd gnome and dog toy that ramps joyfully at the back of their equally generously built house.

I like the book.  He has a gentle countryman's style, and it is written as if it were a series of seasonal blogs, describing the flora and fauna in his extensive garden and Welsh hill farm. It feels soothing after a day of staring at screens.  Some of the plants I know, most I don't so it is slowly educating me.

As for the fauna - I loved reading that Pine Martens are more common these days. I remember my delight in seeing a stoat on the footpaths around Lee Abbey and the thought of seeing this beautiful little predator with it's neat creamy chest, compact ears and chocolatey back makes me very jealous indeed!

I enjoy his writing on birds the most.  Woodpeckers, sparrow hawks, cuckoos, garden birds.  Lots to enjoy.  It has been a busy few weeks.  I realised, today, sitting in the garden with a glass of rioja and a decent sausage casserole, that I hadn't had a spare Saturday for a while. Even going round Morrisons felt like normality.

Edward's demise

 There is a folk legend that King Edward 2 was murdered, unpleasantly, with a red hot poker inserted somewhere you don't even want to think of having such a thing.  Gruesome tales have a way of making a visit to a castle very exciting.  Maybe for small children but also for me.  Berkeley Castle is privately owned and I am sure that pre Covid it was a lot more fun to visit.  But restrictions meant that a lot of the attractions seemed to be closed.  The castle didn't seem to make much of the legend either - advising me, soberly, that he was probably smothered with a pillow.  Oh dear.

My temper hadn't been improved by being unceremoniously dumped on a small road by my Sat Nav, announcing "you have arrived at your destination"  Which I clearly hadn't. The castle is very straightforward to find if you use the road atlas!

 But it was a beautiful day, windy and bright, with a lovely view and plenty of wire sculptures to give a sense of atmosphere.  I really like sculpture.  The texture and that you can walk all round it. That you can imagine it being a living being.  Once I reached the kitchens I felt a little more amicable towards the castle.  Clearly the table and sinks were built for persons of short stature - as serving folk would surely have been in days when they probably weren't so well fed.  Being the granddaughter of a cook in service, I noted the fixtures were fine for a five foot lady but if you were much taller, you would have developed a very sore back from bending all day at the sink.

The cellar has a collection of vast casks and barrels and I think that this family would not have been short of a few well earned drinks!  On the whole it was a good place to visit, but I missed the very National Trust-y signs, guides and information

Nettles and the Karate kid

 Yesterday, I had an epic 120 mile round trip, collecting parents from holiday in Barnstaple, driving them to Sidmouth and breaking for a quick leftover cold meats and salad lunch at my house so they could see the new double glazed windows.  They thought the rapid appearance of a feast fairly miraculous!  Mum calls packet salad "dandelions" - she ate the spinach leaves I threw in from another pack without realising.  "I hate spinach!!" Fair play, the salad leaves do look like dandelions.

I drove back to go to Thorverton for spiritual direction.  Sometimes my planning skills go awry like this. Taking show and tell was a good idea.  At the moment I am reading (as part of the "big church read) with a couple friends, Pete Grieg on prayer. His quote that I had read that morning was about slowing down and being quiet with God.  Regarding our heads, he says we find it is "Like some wild cocktail party of which we find ourselves the embarrassed host" That is an exact description of my head at present!

So, when asked what I want to look at in spiritual direction, I say "how to be quiet" And think that this is like climbing snowdon for me. Challenging, kind of exciting?  Basically I absolutely need some time away and what my friend Lynn calls a "mental holiday"  Relaxation. Exercise.

Many years ago my friend Sandy and I watched the "karate kid", original version. The trainee karate kid goes to his master, and he is asked "paint the fence" clean the car, "wax on, wax off" Phrases that people of a certain age trot out when giving someone something tedious to do. Turns out that the moves you need to perform karate well are the same actions the kid has done over and over again whilst being practical.

What's the point of that?  Well, Kathy the spiritual director has a house with an acre of garden. It's an outside gym really, keeping that from descending into chaos. So I asked if I could help.I am grateful for the time and listening.  And I either put a bit back via foodbank or this time, muscle power.  Because I am both grateful and like being there. 

My task?  Clearing nettles.  Huge 5ft nettles.  Lots of them.  With a full size fork and wheelbarrow. Wearing shorts and borrowed leather gloves.  They sting.  Even when you pull the buggers up and stack them on the compost heap.  You can tell I am not a gardener can't you?  My grandad was a "jobbing gardener, my dad hated but did gardening, and I can't tell weeds from flowers (according to a gardening friend) 

 But funnily enough and I have absolutely no idea if this was the aim or not, the plodding work for an hour calmed me and my head down. Listening to blackbirds whistling and singing, smelling fresh cut grass and clippings on the compost pile. The stamp and wrestle with the fork.  Sunshine dappling through.  A cuddle with the beautiful, brainlessly affectionate labrador and hauling the cutting and clippings to the compost heap and the bonfire pile.  

I will definitely go back and have another nettle battle some time!

LLF & G&T

 LLF & G&T? The power of acronyms! 

This morning in costa I listened/watched/read the first session of the "Living in Love and Faith" in the booklet that goes with the course that the church of England is doing on modern relationships in all their glorious complexity! I have never liked to turn up to a session of anything unprepared and this starts on Thursday night.  Wednesday night is my "book group" for the Big church read which I seemed to have volunteered to lead - 3 friends, one book, one easy-peasy cheat sheet of questions...

Then I picked up the parents for their big, excellent adventure - a much anticipated and welcome break in Barnstaple. They love the hotel, the staff look after them well and, as they are increasingly tottery I am quite glad that they can potter around, enjoy some nice food and wine and raid Marks and Spencer and the local bookshops.  They love to sit in Queen Anne's cafe most mornings and play scrabble in the evening.  But how are they going to do the crossword without their crossword fiend - me?

How to scare a nervous passenger? Overtake a very dodgy motobike and sidecar combination that was weaving in and out the lanes, by hitting the gas and driving in the outside lane.  Mum says, fearfully, from the Command Chair next to me "what speed are we doing?" Um, 80ish at that point, but usually a nice steady 70.  I do try to be legal.  She says she is shutting her eyes!

We hit the link road and having asked Mum what the legal speed limit is (it's 60) so one up to me as she thinks it is either 50 or 70....glad it is me driving.  I teach her "car snooker" while Dad dozes happily in the back.  Spot a red car, colour car (pink/green/blue/brown/black/white(cue ball) red car etc until you either get bored or reach Barnstaple.  Dad is counting caravans/motor homes.

Bless them, I hate watching their tottery progress.  Getting back, I down 2 pints water, 2 cups of tea and a  tin mix of G&T before church. It's a frying hot day and I feel totally dehydrated and in need of fizzing bubbling low level alcoholic sustenance!

Randomness

 This morning was one of those lovely fresh, clean blue sky mornings.  I don't have blackout curtains - they are certainly pretty but the light leaks round the edges by 5am.  Irks me on a Saturday, so I retrieved my phone and listened to the radio until the more decent hour of 6am.  As it was so early, booking an 8am swim seemed a nice Saturday possibility.  The joy depends on the ratio of porridge to stomach. If I judge it wrong, then the swim feels like swimming against a bellyful of lead!

This morning the swimmers all seemed to know each other, a Saturday splash of slow in the medium lane.  I'm not really fast enough to overtake them, but too fast to swim behind so I duck, weave, cut short circuits round them and build a nice 20 lengths or 500 metres to my English Channel swim virtual challenge. This one of course doesn't really have much streetview.  But I did trawl around the virtual map and found myself "virtually" in the gents toilets in the cross channel ferry.  How totally bizarre.  It is a great way of ensuring I count my lengths rather than aimlessly drift along. Although I have, before, done a charity swim of 26 miles in 12 weeks, that was ludicrous and I'm too sensible these days.

Afterwards I met a friend who is a good birder and we walked from Darts Farm to Topsham, looking through the cutouts on the wooden cycle bridge, and spotting a patiently fishing  heron and some kind of bird of prey.  Fabulous day!  It circled lazily, running the sky, hovering, dropping down to grass level, fighting the air currents.  I personally have not a clue what it was- friend says probably buzzard. It didn't cry out like a buzzard but it wasn't sparrowhawk grey.  A fan tailed brownish bird who brought joy.

I'm reading Monty Don's book on garden wildlife and flowers through the year.  It is a stress busting evening or before bed read. Not that I am stressed but it does mean that I will sleep.  He describes plants with love and a naturalists eye.  It's not the kind of book I usually pick up - Gardeners world isn't really my kind of show - but it was cheap in Tesco and is a lovely read. I also have chapters of "The big church read" book - Pete Grieg, how to pray to work through.  So far it is good, he has a poets knack of creating memorable images, and crafting the chapters so that I feel I am learning in a small way that doesn't kick off the oh so easy to kick off guilt and failure cycle.  That wouldn't be helpful at all.

As I type I can hear seagulls wailing but can't see them. I bought a water pistol of my own but so far it has been far more useful to clean their mess off the nice new windows.  I would so love to surprise them with a quick, watery blast!