Integrating the Alien - Refugees

When people leave their country of residence due to oppression and/or a fear for their life, they become refugees. The Hebrews, in the book of Exodus, were refugees.

The story of the Exodus in the Bible doesn't actually deal with the refugee situation very well. After all, the Biblical account tells of the Hebrews forcing their way into a land occupied by others with blood-shed to claim the land of Canaan as their own, under God's guiding hand, reflecting refugees as a danger to any host country.

There's no archaeological evidence to confirm that an entire nation wandered the Sinai desert for 40 years and most scholars now except the story as a myth constructed purely to demonstrate God's guidance and action in Judaic history. I was even taught as much at college. It isn't disputed that there was some kind of 'leaving' Egypt. The detail in scripture, although not providing any definite names or dates, does correspond to facts drawn from history with regard to the slavery taking place. The account in Exodus would probably not have been important enough to add to scripture if there was absolutely no experience of those conditions. But, it's now generally accepted that there was no war to claim any land, the Hebrews purely slid into the area and became absorbed as part of the population.

Canaan was a fertile place, situated on the Levent, we now know as the Near East, where there were rivers to water the land and vegetation grew easily. Why would they want to settle anywhere else. This was a land of milk and honey. The Hebrews went where there was adequate safety and nourishment for them to thrive.

They didn't have to apply to any governments for permission to stay in Canaan, they just settled there. Of course, back then, there was no border protection and no passports. The main stay was agriculture, and the more there were to work the land, the more prosperous an area became.

How does that story reflect on modern life?

Events in and around the Mediterranean Sea, over the last few years, has brought the same old conversations about refugees back into the spotlight. It's a conversation that mainly concentrates on whether we should accept these people into our country or not. Most notable is the reaction to those who are willing to speak against bringing them onto British Soil. They are stigmatised as inhumane and racist. Without a doubt, there are some who fit both of those titles, but not all. They are prepared to face such accusatory verbal abuse to try and bring an awareness of the economic impact these people have on our society and our own lives. It's a real fear, and to ignore and suppress it only serves to send it under-ground and fester it into an anger that splits our society.

Back in March, the Daily Express ran a story with the head-line:
"Tackling immigration fears in UK only way Britain will support EU in future"
And although the article was mainly with regard to free movement in the EU, the fear of which it reported has been heightened by reports from countries on the north side of the Mediterranean Sea. The Refugees escaping from war and tyranny, cramming onto small, usually unseaworthy, boats is a worry and concern to an entire continent.

Last week, the Guardian reported:
"Italian authorities were dealing with the arrival of another 2,900 migrants at southern ports, after 21 boats were rescued in the space of 24 hours from water off Libya."
2,900 people in just 24 hours. These figures include children, even babies. It takes desperation for a mother to risk the life of her children unless she felt it was the only route of protection. These are people trying to find safety.

Last year, Italy took in 170,000 of these refugees and so far this year 68,000. That equals, in the space of a year and a half 238,000 people. That's more than the population of Rochdale. Greece has taken in even more than Italy, estimated at 80,000 so far this year.

We need to also remember that, 1,800 people have died attempting to make similar journeys, and that figure is only for the first six months of this year. The refugee situation is a major European emergency.

The point our media keep bringing to our attention is that many of these haven't ended their journey, they have hidden on lorries and trains trying to reach our shores, good old Blighty. Our benefits system, the NHS, our housing policies make this the preferred destination of many. It seems, we are the Canaan of our times.

It's often been quoted that refugees are supposed to seek refuge in the first safe country from their homeland, but that's not the case. Neither the Geneva Conventions, subsequent protocols, Human Rights acts or any other treaties state where a refugee MUST seek asylum. However, all of these treaties and the governments which have agreed to them have presumed, and even expected, that it will be the first country, meaning that, although Italy, Greece and other south European countries are providing safe haven, following their rescue, they don't have to stay there.

We're a little island, which, over the last century has increased in population by 40%, from just under 43 million in 1914 to just over 60 million by end of 2014 (approximately). How much money does our little island have to provide for all these people? How much work is there to distribute? How many houses will need to be built to provide a home for everyone? Can our NHS cope with the health needs of all these people. Our NHS is struggling, millions are in poverty and dependent on foodbanks, charities and good will to feed and clothe them, benefits and services have been cut. We, as a nation, are struggling to care for our own. That's the cry! These are the fears. "charity begins at home".

So, does being humanitarian have to start at home?
Which should we protect first, our current population and its desire for a more comfortable way to live, or should we protect those whose lives are threatened and need the safety of our shores?
Perhaps the question is
Charity ................ or love

Have we made money and possessions more important than the care of our own race?
Matthew 6:25
"do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?"
Do these words not tell us that our needs and nourishment will be there, naturally, if we all pull together?

And that great philosopher, John Lennon, wrote:
"Imagine there's no countries, it isn't hard to do, nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too."
Was he not telling us that the divisions we construct for our protection and stability become tools used to separate us as a race?

In reality the majority opposed to the influx of refugees ... and I'm not referring to racists, .... wouldn't dream of sending them back, they do understand that these are desperate people, they do understand that these people need safety, but they are fearful of the effects if we welcome them with open arms. It's a fear that is sharpened because we are still clawing ourselves out of one of the worst recessions in decades, a recession that placed many western countries, including our own, very close to Bankruptcy, a situation we wouldn't have dreamed possible ten years ago, and a sad reality for Greece. As to what they think the alternative is ........... that isn't the position they're standing in, and so most even admit they don't know, while others believe we should be intervening with the root problem of the terror the displaced are running from.

But, is there an economic problem to accepting refugees?
Many believe that refugees are an asset to the host country. Not only does it create jobs for those who need to care for them and retrain them, but, in the long run, those refugees will give back to society more than the initial cost.
The Forced Migration Review or FMR have tried to work out the cost a refugee has on the host country. They said:
"The problem to date has been the lack of a comprehensive framework with appropriate analytical tools and systematic methodologies to provide the evidence base by which to evaluate the 'winners' and 'losers', and to develop policies which respond to the actual or potential impacts."

There have been, in the past, many refugees that have not only been an asset to the economy but also given to our pool of wisdom, the arts, philosophy and science and many other areas of beauty and knowledge that we would never have known if there hadn't been a safe haven from oppression and fear. Imagine how much money the rock group 'Queen' generated, and yet, Freddie Mercury was a refugee, along with his family, when they had to flee from Zanzibar. Lord Maurice Saatchi and his brother Charles are the sons of an Iraqi refugee. Einstein was a German Jew who fled to America to escape the nazi's. It's true, that among the current influx into Europe, there will, undoubtedly, be much talent. Do these few, alone, offset the cost of thousands?

Charity begins at home!
Where and what is home?
Is it within the walls of our own place of residence?
Is it the community in which we live our lives?
Or is it something else?
A few months ago, during a service at my church on 'Beauty', a picture of our planet was put up on the screen ....... or more correctly, up on the wall. When I asked what word came to mind, one person said "Home". Does our understanding of where our boundaries lie, make the difference? Is our desire for Social Justice and care directed by where we sub-consciously perceive the boundaries of 'home' to be?

The Hebrews saw the earth as their home. All they had to do was find a spot to settle where they would be safe and could be self sufficient, a place with arable land where they could support themselves without new fears of drought or famine. That's what humans do, what 'we' would do if we found ourselves having to leave the land we knew to settle somewhere else.

The difference between then and now is economic, Canaan gained from the Hebrew settlement, but then there weren't any Companies and corporations with power agendas, self sufficiency didn't depend on gaining work from an employer, it meant living only on what you could produce from the earth, along with handed down skills. What you couldn't produce yourself you gained from others in the bartering of your own surplus. And before I make it sound too fluffy, there were problems, there were disagreements, there was still a risk of failed crops and diseased livestock, as well as greed and war and other foes of a tranquil life. But population was sparse and the land itself was still a long way from any formal government or social structure. The land of Egypt, the land they fled from, was one of the first to form itself into a structured nation. The Hebrews ran from that structured life because they couldn't be part of it. Today's refugees run toward a structured life, in the hope of being part of it.

The dream of 'one world, one people, one loving race' is, no doubt, a vision we hope for our future, but it is when there is a human emergency that we test the water as to how far away we are from making that dream a reality.
Charity or love?

In our self review, we could ask the question:
If a stranger was in need outside our own front door, would we bring them into the house and care for them without counting the cost of the tea and bandages they use?
"Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?"

To believe that charity begins at home begs the question:
Where is 'your' front door?

Freedom of Respect

The acts of terror that took place in Paris last week were, without any doubt, a disgusting and appalling action by those who have very extreme religious views. Such acts have come in continual flow since the horrors in the U.S. back in 2001.

Although I was never in agreement with the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which emanated from the 9/11 attacks, I could see the necessity to try and eradicate the underlying danger. As both wars are apparently now finished, Al-Qaeda has continued, albeit, without Bin Laden, but a new Islamic threat has materialised in ISIS, which only goes to prove that the answer has to be more focused on dealing with 'frame of mind' and the educational understandings than on physical combat.

It is becoming evident that the behaviour of 'The West' has been a large factor in the aggressions.

Many of us, the majority I suspect, are thankful of living in a country which prides itself on 'Freedom of Speech', but, as the old saying goes, "Give 'em an inch and they'll take a yard". What 'The West' appears to have done is, with its pride of freedom, is to forget to ensure that respect is never allowed to dwindle or disappear.

Those who have bothered to investigate and educate themselves on the religion of Islam will, undoubtedly, know that its teachings are ultimately focused on care in the community, caring for the suffering, and on equality. Of course, its teachings are contextual as are those of Judaism and Christianity. We all have to appreciate that, as a society, we have built our own country's culture and judicial system around the scriptures of the faith which once ruled our land. And so it is with other nations. Whether or not we agree with the fundamental principles of another nation's expectations and laws, the people of each nation have, within their own history, chosen the book or teachings which they wished to build their nation on.

Most world religions do not require any respectful behaviour from outside the faith but there are exceptions. In the case of Islam it is well know that to make any attempt at depicting the prophet Muhammad (pbuh) is an insult to the entire religion and its community. Most decent people, outside of the faith, wouldn't dream of doing such a thing and causing such a distress because we understand the principles of respect.

In the U.K. and other western nations, there has been a continual slip towards individualism. The result of mixing 'freedom of speech' with individualism is that it becomes far too easy to ignore how other people feel about the things we say and do.

I have no doubt that the staff at Charlie Hebdo feel hurt and angry about what happened to their colleagues last week, but when we want to make a stand against the tyrant we need to think about how we aim our stand at the terrorist and ensure we don't insult or hurt the innocent in the process.

Charlie Hebdo's form of satire reflects 'Freedom of Speech' in print form, and therefore, encourages it's opinion on others, as does any writing, painting, drawing or anything which turns the individual thought, feeling or opinion into visual state. By satirising the Prophet, as means of revenge, they have managed to insult the entire Muslim faith and not just the terrorists. As Al-Qaeda and ISIS see 'The West' as disrespectful and sinful, drawing this as the basis for their crusade, Charlie Hebdo's actions have not just confirmed that opinion but also heightened it. In turn, Charlie Hebdo's actions will, undoubtedly, affect us all in 'The West' in the months and years to come. Alienating a faith which leads over 20% of the world population is naive and encourages the terrorist rather than deter them.

It's time we all started analysing our freedoms and using them responsibly. True Freedom is that which flows with care for our fellow human beings. Instead of focusing on our 'Freedom of Speech' we should be driving the importance of Freedom of Respect.

World War I - How we remember

It would be impossible to miss the fact that, this year, it is one hundred years since the outbreak of World War I. It's on the news, there are special editions of much loved programmes, and even favourite tourist attractions are plastering themselves in memorabilia.

Although there are no longer any veterans from that conflict still alive, there are a great many of our population who suffered from the aftermath of it. Some have had to grow up with a father or uncle who had been scared or affected by 'shell shock' or the mustard gas. There are many more who were deprived of parents or grandparents, and even great-grandparents, because of the untimely deaths of so many young men, many of whom were forced into the trenches under conscription. The affects of all war ripples down the generations.

World War I was considered to be 'the war to end all wars' and perhaps that is why it has often been referred to as 'The Great War', although that title makes me cringe. The naivety behind both of those titles, designed in such hope, must have made the outbreak of World War II feel all the more painful.

I feel like I'm stating the obvious here, but I want to make it very clear how much I understand the importance of remembering such a life changing and social ordering event. One hundred years is not really that long ago, if we remove our own life-spans from the timescale. It is right for us to recognise it and remember the fallen. Just as much, it is also important to remind ourselves of what was learned from such a war. The problem I have is the overwhelming amount of reference to it, that I'm becoming concerned that such a catastrophic event is being glorified and even turned into a celebration. No war, no matter how long ago or who was considered to be the victor, should ever be celebrated.

I've noticed that there are many recitals of poetry and letters written to loved ones by those on the front-line. Many of us recognise the ironic scepticism and human fear behind much of those writings. It is, undoubtedly, important for us all to be reminded of the human fear and suffering, and, ultimately, that war consists of innocent people fighting on behalf of politicians. Sadly, there are young people that will only catch on to the 'bravery' aspect. They will see war as the strength and might of men standing shoulder to shoulder, as in the picture here.

It was right that there be a commemorative service at Westminster Abbey and in four years time it will be right to demonstrate a celebratory feel to match that of such a horrific war coming to an end, but our media need to be very careful of how their behaviour in-between could turn young opinions to a state of 'glory in conflict' even if unintentionally. It is interesting that, even up until recent times I was never aware of what caused the outbreak of World War I. It was always very clear to me, even as a child, the cause of World War II. It makes me wonder, to what extent, our own country regretted the allegiance that dragged us into such horror. As much as nations should unite against any kind of impending invasion or political atrocities and tyranny, there are ways and means to all peace-making and I wonder if there was something else on the table which, having been rejected, would have been a better option. I can't help being suspicious of things which appear to have been kept silent, especially under such historic circumstances.

I've been told, although I don't know how true this is, that these references to World War I are going to continue along this route for a full four years until we reach the centenary of the end of the war in 1918. I truly hope not. We need to stop now and return to everyday thoughts, news reports and programmes, until we are called on to mark the other end of that war in 2018.

If anyone wants to demonstrate to any youngster that war is NOT glory, let me take you back to the earlier picture. If we home in on one soldier .......

War is heartbreak, no matter which part you play, no matter how close or distant, it is heartbreak.

Emotions of Loving Kindness

Emotions are the oddity of creaturely life! Emotions are the 'unseen' that paints our behaviours and our lives. Emotions can be beautiful, they can display the love, compassion and true connection for others and our world, the part of us we call 'the heart'. At the other extreme, the display of hatred and anger when understanding is hampered and the only emotion which comes forward is fear, which blocks all other feelings. In the middle is a vast array of other colours and shades that form our character, temporarily or permanently.

Emotions are working on us all the time, 24 hours a day. The emotions that we pay most attention to are the ones that have intensity. The most recent, in my case, and as an example, was that of fear, not the aggressive kind, but the one that puts butterflies in your tummy. We refer to such times as 'nerves', and yes I was nervous. When I'm nervous, I pace, which actually amounts to good exercise too ....... who knows how many calories I burn off!!! (laugh!) Luckily, most of those around me found it amusing and in doing so, helped me keep my sanity. I love making people laugh and, part of my brain kept switching to 'fool' mode and, for brief seconds, switched me back to normality. Others were sympathetic which demonstrated I was being 'held' and that was good too, as 'playing the fool' is sometimes inappropriate. It didn't calm me down, nothing was gonna do that, but it did demonstrate understanding.

What is important here is how our reactions to the behaviours of others can make all the difference!

When we identify emotional extremes in others, our reactions to those extremes demonstrate our connectedness. We show others what we desire for them. Our reactions are 'key' to the marks we place on relationship. When you place this trail of thought onto the 'bigger picture' we all have the power to send people along a particular thread on the web of life. Again, using my recent experience as an example, because I was treated so lovingly during my nervous experience, I was enabled to recognise my own nerves and laugh at them, and even accept them as part of what was happening, as it was a big occasion. In turn, this meant that as the event I was nervous about took place, it was for me to find my own centre and experience it to the best of my ability. In other words, those around me had given me permission to be myself and allow the outcome to be in my hands. The thread I would have been sent down is the one which held the positive outcome. Had I experienced adverse reactions to my nervousness, my nervousness may have increased and so, not only the event, but the reactions of others would have added to how I was feeling, possibly leading me to lose sight of what I had to do and then the experience itself, had it gone badly, would then have coloured my self-esteem, even inviting levels of blame. The thread I would have been sent down is the one which held the negative outcome. In both cases, I'm moulded, effecting how I respond the next time I feel nervous.

Fundamentally, we are rarely aware of our reactions, we 'do' by instant reactionary impulses and don't 'think it out'. Because these things happen so naturally, we display, without intention, 'who we are'. Isn't it a natural human need to be seen as loving and caring and be liked and loved? Yet, we can affirm or dispel these positive thoughts towards us, by others, in a split second.

Most important to all of this is how we are all part of the web of life, not just our own part, but we are interweaved with everyone around us. We are so connected and yet 21st century life seems so individualistic, disconnected. Our aims are, so often, purely to do with our own wants and needs that it becomes far too easy to forget to check ourselves for how we respond to one another. If we could all remember just how amazing life is and that we are so much part of each other's lives, even to the most fleeting of interactions, the guy on the bus, the woman in front of you in the queue at the supermarket, the salesman, the taxi driver, the doctor, etc, etc, etc,. We leave marks on everyone we meet. How amazing is that?!!!

And so:
Speak slowly and hear the words coming from your mouth.
Speak slowly that you have enough time to recognise the impact of what you say.
Speak slowly that you are sure your words will have the effect you wish for 'the other'
Speak slowly that you are sure your words will colour you in loving kindness by 'the other'
Speak slowly and precisely.
In the words of Max Ehrmann "Speak your truth quietly, and clearly"

May we meet each other on the web of life at the point of 'loving kindness'.

My Favourite Things - Part 2

It's been a struggle to keep adding to my list of favourite things. Our eldest cat, Freddie, died just over 24 hours after my last blog and, as anyone will know when they've had loving animals in their life, my heart was heavy with tears.

It seems to be the mornings that hurt the most, when he and I would have been alone together in the office. After his morning meal he would come to me for a fuss before he curled up beside my chair and had a 'cat-nap'. He was with me for 15 years and it's not going to be a speedy adjustment to his passing.

It is because of the hurt I've felt that I have continued, although slowly, with my list of 'Favourite Things'. It has been important for me to remember that such heartbreak comes 'within' life and not to 'devour' it. And so, after every little crying session, I've forced myself to think of additions to my list so as to bring the balance of life back. When I need to be sad, I'm sad, but when the tears are over, it's time to get back on life's train.

When I said, in my last blog, that doing a list of 'Favourite Things' was therapeutic , I had no idea how valuable a therapy it would turn out to be, and continue to be.

Of course, I'm not going to keep blogging lists, I'd bore everyone to tears, but these additions to those mentioned before, I publish as a dedication to a beautiful soul who oozed wisdom and had much to do with the making of the person I am today.

In memory of Freddie Andrew Webster, 25/04/1998 to 05/11/2013.

1. Warm towel when I get out the shower
2. Nat King Cole
3. Squidward (from Spongebob Squarepants)
4. Led Zeppelin IV (Four Symbols LP)
5. White Linen air freshner
6. Fireworks (organised displays only)
7. Revels (I may not eat chocolate often, but these will always hit the spot)
8. The film 'Deep Impact' (because it could happen, and how humanity can still be self-sacrificing for the sake of others.)
9. Watching the degu make their bed after a cage clean
10. The hymn 'Dear Lord and Father'
11. My partner holding my hand
12. The old 'Tom and Jerry' cartoons
13. Hindu chants (Asian, Near and Middle Eastern music in general)
14. Platform shoes (considering my height)
15. Buddha (skinny one for meditation and fat one for a smile)
16. Ralph McTell's 'Streets of London' (very poignant)
17. Terry Wogan
18. A certain line from 'Mrs Brown's Boys' (I'm not telling which one)
19. Puppies with big clumsy paws
20. Lego
21. Lord of the Rings
22. The sound of an Infants School playground
23. The end credits to 'X Factor' (because it's finished)
24. Central Heating
25. Arm and Hammer toothpaste
26. Watching the sunset from Lindisfarne
27. 2p machines in Blackpool (yes I do watch 'Tipping Point')
28. Potato and Leek Soup
29. Tomato Soup
30. Ralph Catts' laugh (he's a fellow student at UCM)
31. Yellow highlighter pens
32. Stationary in genera
l 33. Desiderata (usually credited to Max Ehrmann)
34. Walt Disney's 'Mary Poppins'
35. Esther Rantzen (for Childline)
36. Greg Lake's 'I believe in Father Christmas'
37. I'm a Celebrity ... get me out of here (but not when their eating creepy crawlies)
38. Sunlight
39. Twiglets (it's that 'Marmite' taste)
40. The song 'Fly me to the moon' (especially sung by Frank Sinatra)
41. Our degu fighting over 'who's got the biggest walnut'
42. Any 'Queen' song (but not too keen on Radio ga ga)
43. U2's 'The Joshua Tree' LP
44. Donkeys
45. Tigger (from 'Winnie the Pooh')
46. The Tao Te Ching
47. Gary Barlow (excellent songwriter but does a lot of good work too)
48. Beaumaris
49. Miss Dior (perfume)
50. The urge to sway when singing the hymn 'One more step along the world I go'
51. My partner Pat doing impersonations in embarrassing places
52. Having my feet massaged/tickled/stroked
53. My favourite tree at Luther King House Theological College
54. Phil Waldron (fellow student - excellent sense of humour but also gentle and kind)
55. Wholemeal bread
56. Singing 'loudly' in the car
57. Walt Disney's 'Jungle Book'
58. 'Compare the Market' adverts (Meerkats)
59. Coffee
60. General Assembly Meetings - lots of Unitarian faces, lots of Unitarian friends
61. Philip Schofield
62. Any book written by Graham Hancock
63. My partner's fascination with 'baby' programmes (CBeebies)
64. Mike Oldfield's 'Tubular Bells' all three volumes
65. Cognac

It is important in life to remember that our hurts are our joys and our joys are our hurts. Both are important in order to be sure that we have lived our lives with love.

Blessings

My Favourite Things

Isn't it strange how we remember the bad things in life easily but not the good? In Customer Service training, it is common to prepare a new workforce in the statistics that a customer will probably only tell 1 or 2 people about a good experience and yet tell 15 to 20 people about a bad one. What a miserable lot we are.

Yesterday, while driving home from chapel, I started thinking about the Julie Andrews song 'My Favourite Things' ..... you know the one, from 'Sound of Music' ..... "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens ..." About half way through I started wondering what the words would be if I had written the song, what are my favourite things?

At first, Julie Andrews was a hindrance because I couldn't get her list out of my head ..... the 'sing-a-long problem. Then I started using her list as a guide. 'Raindrops on roses' does nothing for me but I like thick snow where no foot (not even a paw) has trodden. 'Whiskers on kittens' reminded me of how much I love our Matthew (the cat) padding my face to wake me in the mornings. In the end Julie and her list were no longer required, I was building momentum on my own. Here's just a few (in no particular order):-

Dunking bread into soup or stew
Bay City Roller songs (they're usually happy and bouncy)
Marmite and cheese on toast
The mountains of Snowdonia
Listening to Ludovico Einaudi with my eyes closed
Fields covered in bluebells
Bohemian rhapsody
Being greeted by the dog when I come home (my partner never shows that much excitement)
Brass bands
Red welly-boots
Sitting outdoors on warm summer evenings with friends, chatting
Watching the guinea pigs at 'Pets at Home' (I want one but we've got enough animals)
Long, slow walks (although I don't get the opportunity often enough)

The list is still growing and surprisingly getting longer as I continue to search my brain for the brighter things in life.

It gets easier when you start categorising e.g. favourite films, favourite books, favourite places, favourite food etc...

This is good fun, I highly recommend it. It makes you feel good too. I wonder how long my list will get?

THE DREAM OF YESTERDAY

I dreamt a dream of yesterday
It's presence clear and strong
It told me of tomorrow
and the gift of right and wrong

It held me in its wonder
And smote me with its might
It growled its evil thunder
And soothed me in my plight

"Be gone!" my silence whispered
"Take all of it away,
Tomorrow is my mystery
And deceives what is today."

Its fingers grasped me tightly
And laughter filled my head
"Don't you wish for yesterday
And regret the things you said?"

My wincing heart then crumbled
And my dreams became a mist
And the things which I depended on
Took on their evil twist

"Come with me to yesterday
And view the things so wrong
I'll show you how such mournings
Are not where they belong."

A scrape of ungreased latches
The creaking of a door
My steps so slow and cautious
As I glanced toward 'before'

And then the dream stopped me
"Why follow what is gone.
The dealt hand of experience
Is where it must belong.

Temptation is to listen
To things that are not there
To brood on where the living
Was cruel and so unfair

Your heart is not broken
It only shed the shell
Of the hurt that you keep living
While you grapple with the spell"

The hand of my tomorrows
Gently touched my cheek
"You failed to answer rightly
But it doesn't mean you're weak.

For yesterday is always there
It cannot be ignored
And its memory will always raise
The acts that you deplored.

Follow not the voices
That lead you to the doors
where you locked away your past
and turned on your 'before'.

You are what you have been through
It made you what you are
The price you paid for yesterday
Will always have its scar

Let it lead you to tomorrow
And not toward the past
Feed it with the dreams you've made
And a love you know will last

And when you've learnt to have such faith
Your cup filled by 'today'
Then well oiled doors will let you in
To sweep the past away."

I dreamt a dream of yesterday
And I'll dream it many times
As I live in my tomorrows
'til acceptance becomes mine.

Copyright - Shammy Webster

Pat & Sham's New Year Message

May we take this opportunity to wish you all a happy new year.

May this year, be the year, when all your paths lead to the higher plain of love.
Let go of yesterday, for it has been and gone.
Today is always the first step to the future.
Grasp each minute with enthusiasm.

Remember, there is no such thing as failure, only learning.
You are a precious and special person
Never forget your value.
The universe may be infinite in size, but like any puzzle, all pieces are important in order for the picture to be complete.

Be all you want to be this coming year.

Jimmy Savile

The current news about the sexual appetite of Jimmy Savile has very much been on my mind since the news broke at the weekend. I won’t deny that my initial reaction was “thank God, at last!” I’d been told of his sexual antics back in the early eighties and always had a suspicion that, at some point, something would come out nationally.

Sexual abuse is one of the most degrading forms of violence and it’s rare for it not to affect the rest of the life of the person who has been abused. I can fully understand why the women involved in the ITV documentary still felt they needed to bring these misdemeanours out in the open. There is no better way of cleansing than that of ‘telling’ what is haunting the mind and soul. By saying that I hope it is clear that I fully support the women involved, however there is another side to this.

Jimmy Savile died last year. The allegations being aired on the documentary will no longer make an ‘a’peth’ of difference to him. You can’t bring the dead to court. That said, I have no doubt that a large proportion of the audience for the documentary will only focus on Sir Jimmy and what he did during his lifetime and forget where the real investigative problem lies.

There is no gain from focusing on Sir Jimmy as either positive or negative, he’s dead. The message that should be learned from what has come to light is how easily money and power can pervert the course of justice and protect the rich and famous from having to abide by the same laws as the rest of the population. We are a nation that is obsessed with wealth, fame and power and while we suffer from this self-deceitful way of living we will always come across those who use such things to manipulate to their advantage.

I beg that, although Jimmy Savile is the person being focused on (and I acknowledge that it will be difficult to not feel some kind of anger or pity on the man for what is being divulged) we should focus our attention on those who knew what was going on and didn’t do anything about it. What were their reasons for abiding by his wishes and were they valid reasons?

I leave it to you all and your individual consciences to decide.

May ‘The Way’ of the divine perfection be your path.

Being There ..... Where The Divine wants us to be!

There is something very spiritual about being separated from normal life. Some of the people at college have been on retreats and isolated themselves purposely. The idea is for some uninterrupted time to be with their god and their own sense of self. I’m told the experience is very cleansing but I’ve never done it myself. I can’t tell how much difference there is between such intentional retreating and an unexpected isolation but my own recent experience of being ‘cut-off’ was certainly a valuable learning.

My Partner Pat and I had booked a holiday cottage in Dorset, a beautiful little village called Winterbourne Steepleton. The weather had been a little wet in the days leading to our departure but we didn’t see that as a problem. We were looking forward to some time away and the opportunity to visit places like Stonehenge and Glastonbury and even visit my childhood favourite of Western-Super-Mare. Neither of us are sun worshippers, we are just as happy in wet weather as we are in sunshine, although we would both prefer the latter.

On the drive down it rained a little but it was quite warm in the car. When we made a stop for lunch, the clouds gave us a little respite in order to keep our dog, Harry, dry (he doesn’t like the rain, in fact, he doesn’t like water in any other form than to drink).

As we neared the end of the journey we suddenly hit a problem. The ‘Sat Nav’ was telling us to use a road that the police had closed due to flooding. How do you tell technology that it needs to think of an alternative? Pat rang the cottage owner on her mobile to advise that we were going to arrive later than planned and see if they could guide us as to an alternative route. While she was on the phone I decided to back track and go round Yeovil the other side so that Brenda (which is the name we have given to our ‘Sat Nav’) would have the opportunity of considering our journey from a different point. As our journey expanded by 20 miles, Pat chatted to the cottage owners like old friends and it became apparent that they would not be able to meet us at the cottage as originally arranged because of some flooding at their end (in Dorchester). They told us the code for the key safe and apologised for the unexpected difficulties, especially the fact that they didn’t really know how to solve our journey problem. In the meantime, I did the re-route so well that we started seeing signs for Winterbourne Abbas, which we knew was the next village along from where we were heading. Brenda was redundant.

We found our little cottage and despite a little more rain we unloaded the car and set about investigating the cottage and garden.

Harry’s nose covered the entire floor-space. It had been a long journey and so, once we had familiarised ourselves with our surroundings, we spent the evening relaxing with a glass of brandy. Having a cigarette was a little tricky as the rain had returned with a vengeance and so we had to stand outside (due to the laws on smoking) and tuck ourselves as close to the cottage wall as possible in order to gain some cover from the eaves. We had taken our Chess set with us and we set that up on the kitchen table, ready for what we hoped would be a week-long game. The table was not anticipated as being required for meals as, in good-old holiday mode, we had decided that our meals would be while we were out and about and we would only be having sandwiches or small nibbles in the cottage. We had already agreed to attend the Unitarian Chapel in Bridport the following morning, having previously enquired as to whether Harry would be welcome, and so, having had such a long day and with an early rise required, it wasn’t very late when we decided that ‘bo-bo’s’ would be a good idea.

The following morning was beautifully bright, sunny and warm and it really felt like the holiday had begun. We got washed and dressed, got ourselves and Harry in the car, got to the end of the lane and turned on to the main road and that’s when we had to stop. There at the side of the road was a hand-written sign saying “Road Flooded – Turn back”, it wasn’t wrong!

The road ahead had become an extension of the little river that ran through the village. Having stopped the car, we both just sat there trying to think of what to do next. As a stroke of luck walking just a yard or two in front of us was a woman and young boy who obviously saw our distraught faces and approached the car. “You won’t get through, it’s too deep for your car and goes on for about quarter of a mile” the woman told us. Pat enquired as to whether there was a route in the other direction to which the woman replied “it’s even worse that end”. The conversation established that there was only the one road in or out of the village, we were stuck. I have to admit that such a situation had never occurred to me before and I was completely blank about what this all meant. Luckily, Pat was more on the ball and told the woman that we had only just arrived on holiday and had no supplies. It was then established that the woman lived on the lane in which our cottage was situated and we were about to learn how people in small communities really do ‘pull together’. Names were exchanged, the woman now identified herself as Tara and the boy was her son George. “If you want to write a list of what you need, my husband will be going to the farm-shop shortly. We’ve got a tractor and it’ll get through.”

Back at the cottage, Pat had to find pen and something to write on, and although we had no idea what supplies a farm-shop would have, she wrote down as much as she could think of for an emergency supply.

George came and collected the list about an hour later and Pat and I retreated into the garden to sit in the sun. Twenty minutes later we heard a tractor engine start-up somewhere over the back of the cottages and guessed that George and his Dad were on their way. In the meantime, the couple next-door had obviously realised that we may have a problem and the husband (who we later identified as Colin) came to ask if there was anything we were desperate for. “Milk” said Pat, she was desperate for a cup of tea. Within five minutes he returned with a pint of milk. It was such a hot and lovely day, the whole scenario didn’t seem to make sense but on the plus side we had found fellowship from half the residents of the lane. It took about an hour before Tara and George appeared at the door with a bag of supplies. Most of Pat’s list was unobtainable “It’s only a little farm-shop Pat” was Tara’s comment. There was at least enough to keep us fed although it was very basic.

Later in the day, we took Harry for a walk. We knew that if we turned right out of the lane the flood was about sixty yards in front of us, but we hadn’t been the other way and our curiosity was as strong as Harry’s need to stretch his legs.

We managed to walk about two hundred and fifty yards up a slight hill and down the other side before we decided that to continue was not safe as a pedestrian. The road rose again to a sharp turn and with there being no pavement, on-coming traffic could be a hazard if travelling at any speed. We turned back, much to Harry’s frustration, and returned to the main part of the village. We walked round the small grounds of the village church which was situated at the end of the Lane and then returned to the cottage. Despite the situation, by the evening we both felt more relaxed and spent the evening in the garden with a brandy and Harry trotting around. Tara had suggested we listen to Wessex Radio as they were known in the area for giving detailed reports of what was going on and we would be kept up to date with the flood situation. We decided to leave updates until the morning. Pat switched the television on and we had that going on in the background until the evening cooled off and we withdrew back into the cottage to watch, this was when we realised just how far spread the floods were in the area and how many people were in a much worse situation than us. Up the road in Winterbourne Abbas the houses were flooded, the entire village was cut off and desperate. The local petrol garage was closed as water had forced its way into the fuel wells and contaminated the petrol. It was very humbling to watch, especially when we reviewed our initial reaction to our situation. Our first day had not turned out as expected but we were safe, dry and now fed and I had a wonderful feeling about the humanity and generosity of the people around us. In our naive way, we began making plans for the next day, somehow convincing ourselves that the water would disappear over-night . . . . wrong!

Monday morning came. I tuned in to Wessex Radio and realised that I may be hoping for miracles regarding our plans for the day. Harry and I went to have a look as to the flood situation at the end of the lane. Nothing had changed.

As the day wore on, I began to notice how uncomfortable Pat felt about being so isolated. She was almost continually on Facebook using her mobile phone and even rang a friend for a chat. The fact that I was quite relaxed and absorbing the humility of village life, I had to come to terms with the fact that my partner was not getting the same kind of spiritual nourishment from the situation. It felt strange that after ten years together we had never discovered such differences before. I found myself learning about myself and Pat and our expectations of each other. On the flip side of this, Pat must have found it frustrating that I wasn’t worried about our situation and even appeared to be enjoying it. Sometimes spiritual journeys can teach us things about ourselves that we would rather not learn, but it was an important learning and we both grew from it as well as complimenting each other’s outlook.

Tuesday morning and Wessex Radio confirmed what Harry and I fully expected, the water looked mildly shallower but not enough to even contemplate driving through. I met

Colin at the bottom of the Lane with his dog ‘Poppy’ and he confirmed that the water was not passable yet. We got into conversation about what was happening and his past experiences of the village being ‘cut-off’ although the last time was snow. While we were chatting, George and his Dad Steve came through the flood water on their bicycles. Apparently there was a small shop just outside Winterbourne Abbas that had re-opened. The conversation was friendly and I felt like I had known these people for years instead of hours. More supplies turned up with the owner of the cottage who was desperately worried about our situation. Norman and his wife had driven as far as they could and then he had got on his bicycle and with tins and packets packed in a rucksack he had cycled through the flood to reach us. He didn’t need to do that. How much more kindness could two people handle?

Later that day, Pat and I decided we would get in the car and find out what the flood looked like in the other direction. We hadn’t seen the flooding towards Martinstown. We drove for about two minutes, up and over the hill which we had avoided on foot and there was a puddle. “Looks like the water has gone at this end” said Pat. A bend in the road brought to light the reality. The entire road was like a lake and there were cars abandoned in it with water up to their radiators. We returned to the cottage, Pat was quite obviously feeling stressed about how long we would be stuck. It may sound a little bit ‘over-the-top’ but I began to feel that God had designed the situation in order to be part of my learning. That this holiday was not in any way our making apart from the location, I realised the importance of understanding everything that was going on around me.

The spirituality of the whole thing reached fever pitch that evening. Pat is far more psychically sensitive than I am in that she sees orbs. It is very rare for her to have such an experience outside of our own home but on this occasion, they had joined us in our solitude. Not being able to see such things myself, I’ve always had to rely on Pat’s commentary of where they were and what they were doing. This time Pat was not alone in her observation. Harry could see them as well and started trying to chase them. Whoever our visitors were decided that teasing the dog was more fun than tending to us and began purposely bouncing around the living room to get Harry excited. They teased him for a good five minutes before departing, leaving Harry completely exhausted.

On the Wednesday morning, Harry and I went to view the flood again. I stood and watched while a van stopped, a young driver got out, took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers and began to wade through the water. He disappeared around the corner for about three minutes before returning. By this time another car was behind his van and he went to advise the driver of his findings. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of finding out if it was passable. I waited for him to finish talking to the other driver and watched as the car drove ahead. “What’s it like round there?” I asked him. “I only walked a few yards round the corner, I can’t tell how far it goes on for but the bit I walked seems passable as long as you keep hard to the left.” I didn’t need convincing. I returned to the cottage and told Pat “We’re going, get packed.” All the supplies that we had left were put in a bag and I took them to Tara’s house. “We’re going, would you like our left-overs?” Tara thanked me for the bits and pieces which would come in handy and we got chatting. “Steve went to work this morning, the water is drivable but you need to go slowly. If you’re going to go, today is the day to do it, there’s more rain on the way and the water will rise again.” She advised.

About an hour later, everything was in the car, including us and Harry and I turned to face what was left of the flood water. The first few yards were ok, it was like driving through a large puddle, but then, round the corner, the full extent of the flood was still evident and I was now committed. It has to rank highly amongst my most scary driving experiences. Our car is not small and yet I could feel the pull of the water. It was like a tide. The sensors were beeping like mad as the water danced over and around them. I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake. It took about ten minutes to go through half a mile of flood water. What I had been viewing on the road in Winterbourne Steepleton was only the end of it, I had no idea how far it stretched until now. My heart was in my mouth. As the road ahead became dry I could see our turning which would take us up hill toward the main A37. Both Pat and I were relieved as we began our ascent and I just wanted to get home.

I should feel robbed of a holiday which had cost a lot of money to book and ‘acts of God’ are not covered for a refund, but instead, I reached Manchester aware that I had learnt more than any teacher or lecturer could ever divulge. Although I have had to shorten the telling of our experiences during those four days, I hope I have managed to capture at least a small part of the value of what should have been a disaster. There is a line to a Lorie True song which Pat and I often quote when things happen that we don’t understand and our Dorset experience certainly deserves the quoting: “God’s got a plan and it’s bigger than this.”

And Spring!

The Cherry Blossom pushes forth her white flower
Ready to blush in the face of the sun.
The prism of Spring awakens to burst it’s colour
In streams across the landscape, singing songs of ‘New Life’.
Beauty has shed her cloak to dance in soft linen.
O’ that my eyes witness such things!

My worries and fears have not departed,
But their burden is lightened somehow.
My spirit is renewed, with the season of the gift.

My heart is no longer required to be my warmth
And turns to more needing things
As the Mother of the earth now glows in its place
Beaming fresh garb over her green body.
Praise! Praise!

God provides and yet the glory in my being will always fall short.
I am but flesh and bone, but I know what is beautiful.

Paradox?

This just came upon me. Out of nowhere I found myself writing.

Paradox?

And when evening meanders through the streets
And twilight deceives the glass shielded eye.
The era comes forward with imitation warmth
Speak to me of greens and reds and golds
All shades of winter’s colour
Tell me your truth where you meet the hard earth
And humble it in your presence.

Our synthetic lives bear no resemblance to the prophet
When did our clothes nurse us through the night?
When did our feet feel the cold and harsh dust?
Or the mire of yesterday’s burst?

That I was birthed in times of comfort
That I came forth knowing no poverty
That I sleep in deep covers
Praise be to the evolution we inspire

As evening meanders through the streets
And winters cold lulls nature to sleep
My lullaby remains in the modernity of England
And the knowing that many know a different winter
Tell me your truth where you meet the desert
Humble me in your poverty and need
Our era the same, the experience not.

Woodland Walk

Once a week we take Harry the dog to the park for a woodland walk. Other walks consist of speed for exercise but the woodland walk is always my partner Pat and I strolling while Harry gets a good run around. As the year has progressed we’ve watched the walk change colour. As summer has turned to autumn the leaves have been falling. Gold and browns of different shades laying all around. That wonderful sound of crackling leaves under foot confirms that the seasons have turned and the year is growing old.
How many autumns have I experienced? Why was today so different?
As Harry jogged ahead, my eyes took in a new colour on the ground. Pat noticed it too and said “Sham, have you noticed? Look at the ground. Red leaves! Isn’t it beautiful?”
I verbally agreed in some kind of drab fashion but I was already absorbed in it. The path and surrounding area was so strikingly majestic and yet the feeling it imposed on me was not one of cold dignified alienation but one of such an embracing warmth that I won’t deny I considered scooping up an armful to take home.
Autumn can be such a heavy time when surrounded by the end of the annual glow of summer and trees become bare and enfolded in an invisible solitude. The dying of the beauty we adored in the warm hazy months of the mid-year can easily bring to the heart a desire to die with it, not in a physical sense but in the way we close ourselves in around the warmth of radiators and fires, making the outside world a mental wilderness during it’s time of re-energising.
Those red leaves connected to me. They told me of life. They reminded me that colour is superficial and unimportant and that autumn sings of a cycle. Nature is not dying, she is merely going to sleep, wrapping herself in her coat of brown and gold and red to recharge her batteries ready for the bursting forth of spring. The image is no different than one of me snuggling under the duvet to unwind, calming the events of the day and sleeping so that I’m ready for the day to come.
Although the ‘day’ of the year moves slower than my own cycle of re-energising, it is just as beautiful and peaceful and I viewed its peaceful enfolding today.
I can now look forward to the vigour of awakening on that woodland walk. The sudden burst of nature’s morning is only a sleep away.
What a wonderful world we live in, if only we paid more attention to the beauty in which we live.
My trust in the artistic stroke of the Divine Spirit is ever renewed.

Blessings

TRAINING FOR THE FUTURE

When I was interviewed for Ministry training I was told I would be a different person by the time they had finished with me. Gosh! It sounded a bit scary!
Here I am, half way through the first semester and, having been scared to death of being in a college environment and my own ability, I have found a world that oozes the very subject I have adored for more than a quarter of a century. Here I am, a person that is so opposite to the me of twenty five years ago. Here I am, absorbing every moment of college and home life and learning to read myself in a way that most people would find totally frightening. Here I am! If this is me now, I’m intrigued to know what the person they will change me into will be like.
I don’t walk this path alone. I’ve been issued with a mentor to take all my personal problems and concerns to and I’ve been blessed with being issued with someone who I know I can trust and is calm and gentle enough to get through to me with balanced conversation. I’ve started the course at the same time as someone I have known for some time and get on well with. The other student also helped to organise me in the first few weeks when I was over-whelmed with the amount of information I was snowed under with, we make a great supportive duo.
There are many others in the complex system that know more about the vocation I have chosen than I yet do. These people are there, in contact but waiting. Ministry is a lonely and stressful career choice and I am aware of the path that lies ahead even though I’m aware I’m not experienced enough to really know how much it will burden my soul in the years to come. Now, is when I am being taught to unburden. The price of sanity lies with being able to turn to others and that’s something I’ve never been good at in the past, much to my cost.
Here I am, at the beginning of a new chapter in my life and so full that I wish I could scoop up everyone and everything I love into my arms and hold it tight. I feel like I’m finally doing something I love and learning to do something so very special .............. giving something back, helping, loving, supporting and dedicating myself to others. Even though I know I’ve failed so dreadfully at this in the past (although there have been wonderful times too). All my past hurts and failings have helped me learn how NOT to do things and now I’m learning how to do things well.
The wonders of life, of living, of being in a world where just making a miniscule difference seems worth it. Bring it on!!!

A New Path

A dream opened my heart and bared my soul naked
The path commenced at my feet and disappeared to a far-off hill
My going forward suddenly blocked
He stood miles high, a face beyond view
I knew this stranger

“Why do you fear?” The voice deep and dominating
Conscious of the weight I felt within “I am so small”.
The voice was silent but my heart heard
“Is the seed less important than the flower?
Does the field mouse bow to the elephant?”

Birds flew from the depths of my being
My weight carried in their flight of freedom
My path cleared
With deep breath I placed a foot in front
Joy!

The smell of sweet grass in my nostrils
The path welcoming
I set my glance towards the hill
I will meet him again, but not this day.

Angels - the art of extinguishing demons

How can anyone consider a rapist or murderer as an angel?

Surely, we are all moved to consider angels to be those who guide us through the bad things in life. Angels are supposed to be our saviours in time of need. Angels are told in stories to be messengers of God bringing news and tidings that will give us hope for the future. Angels are goodies ......... aren’t they?

If the suggestion of those we refer to as evil being angels makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, perhaps you should read Appreciating Angels: Sarah’s Story by Sally Asling. It was a book that has certainly changed my opinion regarding my own past and many, who have had difficult lives, may find it quite medicinal to read.

It’s a very bitter pill to swallow when there is a very ‘close to home’ feel to the situations portrayed in the book and the possibility that our own ghosts and those that cause us hurt, pain and suffering are handed a title that we hold in such high esteem. Even when the heart pulls us towards forgiveness for the sake of our own beliefs, some things can be too painful to release from the grasp of anger.

I’ve always believed that things happen for a reason. This book has provided me with the understanding I was missing to unlock the chains of yesterday. I only bought it because it was cheap on Kindle and yet it has changed my life. I know I’m sounding a bit over the top but it really did make me consider my past differently, especially as I have only very recently pulled myself out of a sticky and painful time. I have come to terms with, not just recent problems but, more importantly, past ghosts that have overshadowed my life.

Over the last four of five months I’ve been clearing out emotional debris. We all have times when our personal circumstances seem to gather a lot of burdens that are hard to shed and before we managed to tackle the first one another has appeared. My most recent experience had been a constant build up over several years. With the burdens now lifted or at least become easier to accept, putting the pieces of life back into their rightful places takes a little time. While we go through the black parts of life we rarely appreciate what we’re gaining. Here, at the other end of the tunnel, I look back and see how the pieces of the puzzle all fitted together and recognise the importance of people who hurt me as part of the path that would lead me back into the sunshine.

I’m soon to begin intense training towards Ministry. I promise, there is no halo over my head, and I can assure there never will be. I would love to become the perfect Minister, level headed, full of wisdom and spiritual calm and nothing but love for all my fellow human beings no matter who or what they are, but it ain’t gonna happen. I can only hope to keep working at being that perfect Minister in the hope that I will get as close to perfection as humanly possible.

It’s always been so easy for me to talk to others, in a pastoral situation, with calm and understanding and be able to guide them towards other perspectives, but I have to admit that I have never been able to commit the same wisdom to my own problems. Being a very feeling person, I seem to absorb a lot and not know how to respond even when innocence is the conclusion. My past has led me to accept whatever accusation is thrown and lay silent hoping that life itself will be my proof, but has seldom been my retribution. Some choose to carry burdens of guilt and misery for their pain. Some choose to point fingers of anger or even hatred towards those involved with their hurt. Some choose to point the finger of blame and ignore their own importance in situations. Some do all of these and more. I have, innocently believed that, things will work themselves out for the better. I used to believe that patience was all that was required and often, painfully, waited for animosity to extinguish itself and peace reign supreme. I was waiting for the ‘goodie’ Angel to appear and make things right. How innocent am I?

It’s quite normal for us to want our lives to be full of sunshine and joy. Hurt, pain, heartache, grief and sadness are all the bits we’d rather avoid. Few of us are expert at handling the negative things that happen and even fewer are talented enough to recognise the need and reason for their occurrence. We can only ever reach for the stars, our feet will always remain on terra firma.

Socrates used to tell his students that he knew nothing and in knowing that was itself wisdom. In such a complicated world I can see the wisdom of his words.

Trying to understand how a loving God would send such heartache and pain in order for us to become the person we need to be is quite a big step. This is definitely a time to review what we expect, from The Divine, that we were never promised. This is time for us to work out what is reality and what are our own expectations blown into something called normality.

Life is a very painful path but pain is, very definitely, close to pleasure. As we walk along the paths of our lives we would be naive to really expect endless sunshine. The patterns of nature and the weather she subjects the land to, should be our lesson as to how our lives should be.

So as for the Angels in our lives. It’s not easy to accept but I have to agree that I would not be the person I am had it not been for the dreadful things that have happened in my life. Those I have long felt unable to come to terms with are, amazingly, the very people that pushed me towards being the person I am today. The process doesn’t end, every hurt has it’s reason and directs us towards a place where our experience is needed.

So I guess I have to accept that those who are called evil are the angels that are sent to mould us into the people we need to be in order to follow the road that awaits us. We may not like the analogy but something has to ensure that we are in the right place at the right time to be the people we need to be. Sometimes, we have to be in a dark place in order for us to be the salvation of another further down the path.

Divine Spirit,
Bless all those who mould our lives and our thinking.
Bless the gentle and the aggressive
Bless the lost and the found
Bless those who offend and those who are offended
Bring all your mystery and wonder to the table and let us feel life in total and not just in the ways of hope and imagination.

Amen.

Precious is the pain of the heart

One of my favourite spiritual writers has to be Khalil Gibran. I have quite a selection of his works, some of which are so deep and intricate that I don’t understand the point he’s making but the vast majority truly speak to my spirituality. His most popular work, The Prophet, is, to me, a true manual of life. Anyone who hasn’t read his work, I would urge you to fill this gap in your being.

My own place of worship, New Chapel, Denton, has a bimonthly newsletter which is carefully and lovingly put together by one of the Chapel members. There is, more often than not, a selection of poetry in each issue and the latest edition has an entire centre piece dedicated to some wonderful works. Amongst the selection in the latest issue there is a piece by Khalil Gibran that I have not come across before. On reading it, yet again, as usually happens with his work, my spirit danced in agreement of his words. It is such a beautiful piece that I would like to share it with you.

A Tear and A Smile

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter.
I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding of life’s secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and to be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.
A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.
I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening’s coming the flower folds her petals and sleeps, embracing her longing.
At morning’s approach she opens her lips to meet the sun’s kisses.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapour and rise and come together and are cloud.
And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping to the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to return to the sea, its home.
The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from the greater spirit to move in the world of matter and pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow and the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death and return whence it came.
To the ocean of love and beauty – to God.

These are certainly words for the heart to hold in consideration when life deals its ration of pain and despondency, they are also words to hold close when our path is filled with joy, so that we remember how precious all the moments of our lives truly are.

Thank you to Keith Hinds for putting these words into print for me to read and absorb.

May the Divine unfold in our lives in all its forms and colours and may we learn to see our own moulding in every manifestation of life.

Broken and Grown

Last night I felt like a broken woman but from the experience I’ve learnt a lot.

When we got our dog Harry, I was aware that we had taken on a lot of hard work. He had been mistreated and was bound to have been affected by his past experiences. We took on the responsibility knowing that there was no history or information on his life to use as a guide and that it was extremely important that we didn’t give up as we would then add to his problems. With all the good intentions in the world and a full love of animals we brought him home.

His first week with us was not the way we’d planned. Within 48 hours we had found out that his neutering was infected and that he should never have been released to us. We willingly paid for his treatment to correct the problem but was told that until his infection had been identified we should not introduce him to the cats. We knew the longer we went without them meeting the harder it would be but we wanted to protect all our animals and so we adhered.

Poor Harry spent the first 10 days with a bucket collar on. Not good for his street-cred LOL.

During those first 10 days, Harry began to show his personality. He had obviously not had any discipline or training and so behaved like an excited puppy even down to biting (not viciously) and bouncing over us and the furniture, and chewing everything in sight. He’s a powerful dog with his staffy make-up and with Pat’s disability, I have had to do most of the tugging and absorb most of the biting to try and bring him into line.

Once the bucket collar came off, I thought walks would tire him out so I started a regime of 4 walks a day of no less than 30 minutes. It didn’t help. I believed that God had sent him to us, not just to help him as the infection would have killed him but for him to teach me patience.

The best investment we made was paying for a dog trainer to come and meet Harry and help us to try and get some respect into him.

We’ve had him with us for nearly three weeks now but last night, I was tired, I was behind with writing my service for Sunday and I felt guilty that my lovely cats hadn’t been allowed to roam their own home as if they had done something wrong. I had spent the last 2.5 weeks looking on the bright side and that we would get there in the end but last night, I felt my will break. I felt I couldn’t handle any more and that I would have to break my own rules, do the very thing that I find disgusting in others and take him back. I couldn’t sleep for fear and worry of what he was doing or destroying. I couldn’t get on with anything in the house because he was so unruly. I had hit the bottom.

I got up this morning feeling dreadful, tearful and beaten. When Pat got up I told her I couldn’t take anymore and that I would be returning him back to Cheshire dogs home this afternoon. Problem was that I love him. The idea of letting go of him hurt as much as what we’d been going through and the idea that I’d be doing him damage by taking him back was like a knife.

Thank God we had invested in a dog trainer. A 30 minute phone-call with him early this afternoon laid all our problems to rest. I’m not saying that Harry is any better behaved now than he was this morning but the trainer put some more rules down and even suggested a crate to put him in as a doggie den to give us a rest.

I’ve put the new rules into effect and there is already a marked difference, however, much as I had always thought it cruel to put a dog in a crate, I have to say, not only has it given us time to breathe and let the cats back in the living room to socialise with us, but Harry actually seems to like the crate. The dog trainer did tell us this might be the case as dogs like somewhere they can think of as their own den.

There is no way I intend on sending him back now and both Pat and I are extremely grateful to our fantastic trainer for his support.

I have to say I have learnt so much from the experience of having Harry that I can now see how it’s possible to love someone or something so much but still feel that it would be better to part, and how much the idea of splitting up must hurt. I’m not presuming for a moment that I could ever know what divorce feels like or handing a child over to social services. I’m aware we’re talking about my relationship with a dog, but some experiences are sent in different clothing in order for understanding to be real towards the feelings of others.

I guess God really has sent Harry to us to work on us as much as we have to work on him. Who says things don’t happen for a reason. These lessons could never be learnt in a college.

Harry Tobias, we’ll get there boy 

New Addition

People seem to find it shocking when I say that I trust an animal more than I would ever trust any human being. The statement seems to bring people to the conclusion that I don’t like people and that isn’t true. Human beings have a tendency for deceit, we all do it. Most, hopefully tell little lies, ones that don’t hurt anyone, but some tell some crackers. Whichever way you look at it, deceit is deceit but we often seem to find an excuse for its use. Animals don’t do deceit, no fibs or lies, they are straight forward in their attitude to people, other animals, any aspect of life. What you see is what you get.

I know that our cats will come to us when they want affection and trying to force it on them is usually tolerated but rarely appreciated. Our degu are only interested if we’re feeding them or giving them a new toy to play with. In both cases, the main thing that really makes the difference is that, despite their sometimes ignorant attitude to us, if another human being comes in the house, the degu hide and so do the cats. The message we get from their behaviour is that we are known, trusted and that they feel safe with us and that’s all I ask of them.

I think I’m probably a sucker for the underdog by way of concern for children and animals. Cruelty to either is just not acceptable. In all honesty cruelty to anyone or any living thing is unacceptable but in the case of children and animals they are so dependent that to abuse them is the lowest of actions and puts bacteria and amoeba in a higher rank of life than the offender.

What is it that brings this subject to mind? Recent events in our home have brought us a new addition.

My partner, Pat, has always been a dog person but she’s been won over with my love of cats and we’ve trundled along on the feline side for the duration of our 9 year relationship. Our dog, Tim, mainly lived with Pat’s parents and so my experience of our canine friends was a little vague. Tim died in 2006 at the age of 15 and although he and I were good friends (I used to play with him while the adults did the boring talking) we couldn’t have him live with us. It would have been cruel, in his old age, to have been taken away from the environment he’d always known and with both Pat and I working full time it just wasn’t an option.

Last year, while discussing my future ministry training I asked Pat if we could have a dog if I qualified. It didn’t take much for her to say yes. I haven’t even started my training yet but we’ve got the dog.

A couple of weeks ago, and without going into too much detail, a family member asked us if we would have their dog as they had ceased interest since the birth of their baby. We said yes, after all, that way we could be sure he’d go to a good home and he’s a lovely dog. We certainly weren’t expecting the ‘kick-off’ in the family that followed and we had to retract our offer in order to keep some kind of peace. When you’ve had your expectations built up and then deflated so suddenly it can make you change previously sound plans. A couple of times since, Pat has mentioned about us getting a dog, I think she was looking forward to having a canine friend around again. Sunday afternoon, just over a week ago, I asked her if she wanted to go and have a look at the dogs at the local dogs home.

Cheshire Dogs Home is smaller than I had expected but the tragedy of these innocent lives is frustrating to say the very least. Easily 95% of the dogs were Staff or Pitbull breed, which made me wonder if this meant that some people had decided it would be some kind of status symbol which they found also needed looking after and had changed their minds.

Pat fell in love with a beautiful white and tan chap, sitting quietly at the back of the pen. We had a walk round with him and he seemed to very much like us. This was when I was won over. He was so loving and affectionate that I couldn’t help but find myself wanting to take him home. The following day, we went back and adopted him.

These dogs come with little, if any, reliable history and so adopting one is a big responsibility because it means taking on possible problems and mental health issues which have been incurred during their lives. It has to be a decision to do as much as possible to ensure that you do not add to the animals problems and try and give them a stable and loving environment to recuperate from the past and have hope in the future.

Our new addition came to us with an infection which had not been picked up by the home and has displayed behaviours that certainly need checking. I can tell, for a while at least, he’s going to be hard work, but I can also see what a wonderful companion and friend he will make to both of us for seeing him through. We’ll all gain from the experience.

Harry is a cross between a whippet and a Staffordshire terrier. He’s a very strong dog and pulls my arm out of its socket taking him for a walk. The work starts here and that’s fine.

Humanity is truly the most aggressive and dangerous of all animals. If we didn’t cause so much suffering animal homes would not be required. I sadly see so many comparisons between how we treat animals and how we treat children and the comparisons are not always pleasant.

We all come from the same force of life. We are all part of the one divine entity. We are all from the same family and our common parent is God or whatever force you believe in.

Divine Spirit,
Grant us the patience and determination to live with all your creation in harmony and peace.
When our motivation begins to lumber, grant us the grace to ensure the marks we leave on this life are not those that scar the heart of another.
Amen.

Let the Youth lead our movement

Well, I’ve done it at last!

I’ve been leading worship for nearly 5 years and kept to the hymn sandwich used at every chapel I’ve been to. Opening words, hymn, prayer, reading, hymn etc, etc, etc. I’ve known that the younger generation have been crying out for something more spiritual, something that speaks to them but I’ve done as I was told and done what was expected of me by older congregations who see no reason to change what to them ‘has always worked’.

A couple of years ago I sat through worship prepared by young people and was completely mesmerised by the depth of their spirituality which spoke to my heart in ways Sunday worship rarely achieved. I could see clearer than ever how behind the times our chapels are. How do you get the young into our places of worship when their needs are so different from the older generations?

I’ve wanted to lead a new style of worship ever since those young people showed me how wonderful it could be. Today I did it. My guinea pigs were the wonderful congregation at Chorlton Chapel who are already used to involving all sorts of different things in their worship. Chorlton have long been doing what other chapels refuse to even attempt, they are a Minister’s dream come true and they provide the blue print to our spiritual future. I guess it was a little cowardly of me to make my first attempt at new worship at such an already open chapel but you have to start somewhere and I figured I’d get a much more constructive feedback from people used to doing new things.

There was no sermon/address, the old ‘Order of Service’ was thrown out. The congregation joined in with two prayers, four hymns (from our modern and upbeat purple hymn book ‘Sing your Faith’) and a discussion on Spiritual places and what speaks to our own spirituality. I felt wonderful afterwards and the congregation seemed to think I’d done well too which is what really matters.

If only I could find a way of introducing this style to the other chapels who are so afraid of change.

One of the Unitarian youth leaders is thinking of starting a completely new service for our younger people rather than them keep having to wait for their spirituality to matter at Sunday Worship. She asked me, among many others, for ideas and whether we would be able to help. I don’t know if she reads this blog but if she or one of the other youth leaders does, I’ve already said I’ll help but I’d like to add the following:-
‘Get it going girl, I’m hungry for it. This new style of worship is so much more fulfilling I don’t just want to be involved ......... I NEED TO BE INVOLVED’

To all church goers .............. young people can teach us a spirituality we never even dreamed of. Make them your leaders. We should be learning from them and not the other way round.

I think I’ve caught the bug and I don’t want to find the cure 