For Mattie’s 24th Birthday/30th December

 

Reposted as some difficulty experienced accessing oCan’t sleep. Wide awakeness mocks the hour.

Just like this night, twenty four years ago, wide awake, only then it was with an eager expectancy of the gift of life.

My labour pains had begun and I knew the end result would be new life – a baby born. Funny how a mother can recall the moments leading to a birth, crystal clear, like it was yesterday. Nursing new life in the womb, growing it, nurturing it, wanting it, is something worth recalling in minute detail. I ponder the memories of pain and joy and thankfulness for the safe arrival of my son. I ponder each precious moment of his life I got to share before he left prematurely, leaving a hole in my heart and an ache in my spirit, to be left untended until we meet again,

I have joined the ranks of women who have held their children in death … one child dies in this world every four seconds. That is a lot of children gone before they have had chance to be … that is a whole lot of women understanding the pain of losing a child, miscarrying, or stillbirth, or through hunger or disease.

And what of the fathers. Standing by, unable to make things right for the mothers or the children. Such loss, such feelings of inadequacy, such sadness to hold inside.

When Mary gave birth to Jesus in the stable it was said ‘she treasured all these things and continued to think about them’. Every memory of our children is precious to us as parents, we continue to think about them. Thirty three years later, Mary watched her son, the Son of God, die. If it had been one hundred years later it would still have seemed too soon for her. It is always too soon for a parent to lose their child.

One every four seconds …

But we choose to say that God is good all the time. We choose to praise him, and  to give Him thanks for the gift that was the time Matthew lived with us and all he meant to us. We give thanks for the gift that was his short life here on earth, and his and our eternal life.

Through Matt’s birth, both parents gained eternal life – he was the gateway … and how many others I wonder.

We celebrate today what would be his twenty forth year on this earth and what is the gift of his life, and thank God for it all … Eucharisteo – thanksgiving – joy – miracle.

Happy, joyous, thankful twenty-fourth celebration of your birthday, darling Matthew … until we meet again – we love you, infinity and beyond.

Remembering Mattie 24th November 2012

This gallery contains 4 photos.

Remembering Mattie – 24th November 2012

Considering writing is one of my most favourite forms of creative expression, I have penned little over the past eight months. That’s not to infer I have had little to say; on the contrary, those who know me will agree I usually have too much to impart! However, another house move, that unexpectedly developed into the major refurbishment of a property partially flooded earlier this year has found me without most of my belongings and camping in a caravan in the garden of our soon to be completed home.

The whole experience has made me more aware of those less fortunate, those who find themselves refugees, fleeing disaster of one form or another, those who have either lost everything they hold dear, or who had nothing to lose in the first place.

By world standards and statistics, as a privileged citizen of western civilisation, I know little of owning nothing, little of being disenfranchised, little of being homeless, little of being without the freedom to do as I choose, within the constraints of the land. And I am fortunate that I do not live in poverty.

What I have come to appreciate, in its rich fullness, is the value of relationships. The pleasure and comfort of counting my friends, the unexpected wonder of receiving a word of encouragement, the warmth of a hug, the succour of love, freely given. In short, I am learning to be thankful in, and for all things, and I do mean all.

It has not been a smooth road. It has, and still does take huge efforts to be thankful for everything in my life – the good and the not so good. I am a work in progress – thankfully, God is unbelievably patient with my stumbling efforts.

It is ten years since Mattie went home to glory with his Jesus. Ten years that seem like a millennia, and yet a nanosecond ago. Ten years for me to be able to thank God for Matt’s precious, fleeting life, his short time with us, and the fact that we will be reunited one day. Ten years of sulking, soaring, diving, believing, screaming, sobbing, laughing and finally spent, falling into the arms of a truly loving God, who will always be there for me, who feels my pain as acutely as I do.
Following Matthew’s death, I used to worry that he did not realise just how much I loved him while he was here with us. My mind was plagued with doubt when I recalled those times I admonished him, raised my voice in frustration, denied him things he requested. All normal thoughts in the course of bereavement I’m sure, though it wounded my mothering heart, and tempted me with regrets.

A chance comment by one of his friends spoke peace into my heart when he commented that Matthew was engulfed in the knowledge of our love for him, it was always something tangible and evident in our house whenever he visited. Such words of comfort, such appeasement in my anxiousness.

I shall never regret the cuddles and kisses I gave, (forbidden within a mile radius of the school gate!) the hugs I received, the words of affirmation I spoke, the silly o’clock times in the mornings, when, as a baby, he would wake to fulfil his mission of emptying all our pasta into saucepans on the kitchen floor; the evenings spent lying with him on his bed, reading and telling stories and the helpless laughter as we lay on the bedroom floor trying to blow bubbles with mouth-filling pink gum. The times we took him wherever we were going, no matter what time it was, and the illicit holidays we stole during school term time, to benefit from Mark’s travel concessions. No, I do not regret his momentary absence from the classroom and academia in exchange for life-lessons and swims in turquoise pools and salty oceans. Foregoing an exemplary school attendance record, for memories I can draw upon to add sparkle to my day – with apologies to several Headmasters and Headmistresses!
That’s not to say I’m endorsing parents taking their children out of school for holidays, I’m just glad we did it, because in those times together we loved … and shared abundant life as family. There are no lessons that could be better than that.

I was raised by my mother and grandmother and vividly recall when I was about 4 years old, being woken, some time after being put to bed, to be taken to the cinema to watch an evening showing of Charlie Chaplin in the film Limelight. Clad in pyjamas and my outdoor coat, I snuggled deep into the cinema seat, enthralled at the story being played out on the screen. It was an event in my life I will always remember with affection. Interestingly, though I am sure my mother and grandmother must have admonished me on many occasions, I cannot honestly say I recall any details. I only remember the love I received and everything else paled in comparison.

We have the opportunity to show people how much we love them: by our actions, our affirmations, our respect, our acceptance. And when things don’t turn out the way we expect, we have the opportunity to forgive them, unconditionally.

Show someone love and forgiveness today.

In memory of a special, unique, loving, darling son. With Jesus, in Paradise. Ten years and still waiting expectantly to hug you in an embrace that will go on and on and on …

After the fall

It is amidst the post Christmas fall-out of being away from whence I find myself playing the familiar game of catch-up.

Thankfully, I was challenged last week, listening to someone suggest we concentrate on the essential issues in life, rather than just those we personally attach the label of importance to.

And also to take time out just to relax and be the person God made me to be, not the one I think I ought to be.

With that thought uppermost in my mind, I have turned a blind eye to major domestic chores, admin and the plethora of other things vying for my attention. Instead, my husband and I are making huge efforts to meet up with people we haven’t seen for ages, and take time out to do things we actually yearn to do, instead of the usual run of obligatory tasks. I’m not too sure how long I can resist the urge to do an overdue ‘Spring clean’, though I am in a new place of understanding the urge is there, and I can choose to ignore it, though I may just hoover tomorrow!

If you still count us in your circle of friends though have not seen us for far too long and would like to rectify that, now would probably be a good time to press us for a date! Please make contact. For those of you no longer wishing to see us, or think we have forgotten you, watch out – we know where you live!

Since Great Britain won the bid for the 2012 Olympics back in 2005, we have been exposed to much spoken in favour and against that event. Whichever camp you choose to be in, it would seem that hosting the Olympics here in Great Britain will have a huge effect on all our lives. Not least of which, our sense of patriotism that is aroused during such happenings as Royal weddings and state and international sporting events. Communities are being encouraged to get involved in supporting the Games and we will, no doubt, be told we can look forward to a summer of unity and harmony.

Though is that a true reflection of our country and its cosmopolitan inhabitants? Sadly, we live in a society now largely rejecting God, where culture encourages us to do whatever we want and feel is right for us as individuals, not caring about our neighbours or the consequences, and tragically perpetuates man’s inhumanity to man.

I watched with keen interest, the latest outcome of the court case into the Stephen Lawrence murder, and find myself thankful that there are people willing to investigate something until it reaches a conclusion, and those who seek justice, (Ref: Daily Mail Headline in 1997) sometimes at great personal cost.

With hindsight, for this and many other cases, one of the most important decisions Jack Straw made in his role as Home Secretary for the criminal justice system in this country was to repeal the double jeopardy law, thus allowing previously acquitted suspects to be tried for the same crime, due to new evidence becoming available. I pray this case may be pursued to its absolute conclusion and justice is done. It will not bring Stephen back, nor make amends for this abhorrent waste of life, though it may go some way to effecting changes in this race-torn country of ours.

Listening to the comments made by Stephen’s long-suffering parents, I could not fail to hope this development will help them achieve clarity and closure on the tragic death of their son, even though they may never understand so obvious a blatant and unprovoked racist attack.

I was similarly shocked and saddened recently, to watch a film entitled The Whistleblower. It is based on true accounts, reported by police officer Kathryn Bolkovac whilst serving as a peace-keeping officer in post-war Bosnia, and exposes compliance with human trafficking uncovered at the highest level of government agencies, including the UN. Were it not for a small dedicated group of people being assisted by this insider, the appalling crimes against women, young girls and children in that situation, would maybe have eluded the attention of the ordinary public.

Some of the abuse uncovered in the research was so abhorrent that Director Larysa Kondraki actually had to exclude some evidence as being too shocking to air. The tragedy is surely that it should be necessary to soften the horrors of what man is capable of doing to his fellow human being from those of us who are ignorant of this level of abuse. Why should we not be shocked by atrocities and injustices that go on outside our peripheral vision? Why should we ‘look away’ if the visial evidence becomes uncomfortable and disturbing? Equally shocking as the discovery of this level of sexual enslavement of young girls, is the revelation that some UN peacemakers and private contractors were major customers, and beggars belief. Given diplomatic immunity by the State Department when hired on, the men were never punished for their complicity in the criminal enterprise. By contrast, Bolkovac as the whistleblower was excoriated and blackballed for exposing the scandal.

Nonetheless, expose it she did, despite all efforts to thwart her. However, the price she paid has been huge. She now lives in the Netherlands working at a desk job, unable to get work with any humanitarian organisation. It’s a small community – she is infamous. I pray she may ultimately achieve meaning, clarity and closure for her selfless efforts. The alternative human condition can threaten to engulf us in remorse, bitterness and a feeling of inadequacy.

Not all injustice is weighted on one side of the coin. Sometimes we become aware of systems and protocols that disallow consideration of each individual on their own merit, merely to push through what governing bodies believe to be the best and safest solution to a social problem. In a recent drama on BBC, entitled Public Enemies, by a miscarriage of justice, and a coercive confession, a released prisoner, erroneously convicted of murder, is forced almost to the point of compliance with a lie and madness, or a return to prison, for a crime he did not actually commit, all because the probation service labels him as high risk because he attempts to proclaim his innocence only after serving 10 years for a crime he did not commit.

Finally, his probation officer takes a decision to believe him and offers help, risking her job, relationship, and reputation because she realises she is not providing a solution, but rather creating another problem. It provided a contrastive look at difficulties faced by ex-offenders, whether guilty or innocent, during their so-called rehabilitation into society. The cards are heavily stacked against them, even when they show remorse and have served their sentence. Please understand, I am not condoning acts crime, merely discovering there are major miscarriages of justice.

I have recently had the privilege of coaching a young man, who has spent time in prison for crimes committed through bad choices he made, and who sincerely wants to change the direction his life has taken. He takes responsibility for his past actions, and desperately wants to be given a new start. It has not been easy to convince organisations he has approached for further education and possible employment, of his change of lifestyle, and a sad indictment of society’s attitude towards anyone caught and punished for wrongdoing is they are often made to wear the label ‘ex-con’ for an indeterminate amount of time.

Mankind, it seems, has made noticeable distinctions between what it considers to be wrong-doings and God’s original game plan. Lies, adultery, jealousy, disrespect and malicious gossip – are just as capable of wreaking havoc, yet our culture seems to overlook or actually encourage such damaging behaviour.

So, where’s the application for my life? I’m working on seeing things from all perspectives and not just taking information on face value – I’m researching more before I make decisions or choices. Having been made aware of the plight of victims of human trafficking, I am resolved to use the internet more and do whatever small thing I can to offer help to those who are providing a voice for the abused.

Also, I am asking you, reading this, perhaps to read more and get involved. By reposting this blog to your circle of friends, it might inspire someone else to get proactive. Watch The Whistleblower, if you haven’t seen it. The least we can do is treat others the way we would like to be treated ourselves: to love our neighbours as ourselves, as God loves us; to love our world, as God loves it. We live after the fall but that doesn’t mean we cannot understand our priceless worth as human beings, or encourage others to appreciate theirs.

There is the Good News …

Picture this …

30th December 2011

I picture you the moment I first saw you, pink and newborn, our longed-for son.

I picture you the moment you spoke your first word, in the back of the car, you said “JUICE!!!”

I picture you walking to school, pretending to be Buzz Lightyear, protecting your mum and saving the world.

I picture you swimming on holiday, fast and strong as a dolphin through the water.

I picture you standing alongside your friends, chatting and smiling and sharing your lives.

I picture you smiling, hugging me tight.
If the world were to end then it would be alright.

If you were here, you’d be celebrating your 23rd birthday with us on this earth.
I wonder how old you really are.

I picture you hanging out with Jesus, understanding the universe, seeing it all.
I picture the next time I see you and joy fills my heart, for I know that picture will go on and on and on …

Can you see I’m smiling at you?
Happy Birthday here on earth, my darling Matthew!

Tiddlywinks

Well, Mark has just completed his latest triathlon, at Chichester, West Sussex.

The weather could have been better. Cycling on main roads in driving rain with frequent traffic sending back a spray of water, like being soaked with a hose, can’t be the conditions of choice. However, it didn’t dampen the spirits of our brave biker, who confided that he kept an image of Matt’s smiling face in his mind’s eye all the time. Although Mark didn’t beat his best cycling time over the distance of 20 km, he did perform well on the swimming leg, and managed to do a best on the final 5 km run. Congratulations, my sporting hero! Well done for raising valuable funds for the charity and thanks to all his sponsors.

I have to take my hat off to Mark. Despite being quite keen during my school years, I was never a natural athlete, preferring a knitting marathon, or a friendly cook-off, to anything vaguely resembling physical exertion. If there were a gold medal offered for reading books, my cupboards would probably be full of them. I am now reaping the harvest of that, in as much as I have to exert real effort to maintain a sustained and healthy weight, whereas Mark usually eats and drinks what he likes without too much fluctuation, the odd exception, notwithstanding. Such are the injustices I have to bear!

In attendance last Sunday to support his valiant efforts, I watched the diverse participants in relative comfort from underneath my waterproof hooded jacket. Whether male, female, young, old, fit or not, everyone was focused on each section of the triathlon, and especially on the final finish line. They’d made a commitment, signed up, paid their fees, and whether they were doing it for personal achievement, to raise money for a worthy cause, or just for the fun of it, all sought the prize of self satisfaction, to be able to say, “I did that, I finished.”

One chap had to run quite a distance, barefoot, steering his bike, with puncture, in the pouring rain, so as to complete the official route and not risk disqualification by taking a short cut. He made it, his focus and determination paid off.

Whether our commitment is to undertake a sporting event, a degree, a training course, read a book, or just complete a task we have set ourselves, it is so often the doing of the task that speaks volumes to us of our character. Are we starters and finishers, or are we only starters?

I have realised that it suits my personality to have more than one commitment on the go at a time, much like the pile of books on my bedside table that I read simultaneously. With several things to dip in and out of, I like the diversity and the feeling of finishing several tasks within a short space of time. A bit like when, as a child playing Tiddlywinks, I preferred to have all my counters chasing each other closely around the board, rather than concentrating on getting one home and dry, before focusing my attention on the next.

That’s all very well, as long as I do commit to finishing all the tasks, otherwise I am in danger of being drowned in a sea of uncompleted projects, whilst being tempted to get involved in just ‘one more thing’. I have spent the best part of a year doing accounts for the Trust and publishing company. A lengthy and formidable chore for one such as I, who would far rather be writing, knitting or painting; or cooking, even cleaning, anything but figures!

The truth is, had I spent more time planning, prioritising and focusing, I may not have had to endure such a protracted time of all things admin now. A hard lesson, and regretfully, not the first time I have had the opportunity of learning it.

While I was chatting to God the other day, He dropped the question inconspicuously into my head, “If I asked you to come home with me today, would you?” My immediate, knee-jerk response was, “Yes, of course”, thinking – “great, a win-win, I see Jesus and Matt today!” However, a few uncomfortable moments later, all my ongoing projects flashed across my mind. I suddenly felt quite embarrassed about leaving such a pile of tasks, started, though not finished. I wanted to ask God if I should just complete them and then go on home with Him.

It was at that point I realised I can do that anyway, everyday, whether the promise of going home is imminent or not. I can focus and finish whatever I set my mind to. I can complete so much if I plan, prioritise and stop procrastinating.

So before I embark on another new thing, I am resolved to work my way through my collection of tiddlywinks that are all bunched up together and cluttering up my house, because you never know when the opportunity will arrive to actually cross the finishing line. I can’t promise not to peek into more than one book at a time, though I will limit the numbers. After all, when I go home, I will be travelling light, and I don’t want to leave a mess for someone else to clear up after I’ve gone.

What are your tiddlywinks, and where are they? All bunched up, unfinished, or evenly spread out, with the majority home and dry?

Pilgrim’s Progress

Trying to action being kind to myself, I thought I’d take 30 minutes out from office work today and write something – a pastime I love to do, though sadly push to the bottom of the pile all too often.

It’s been an interesting couple of months since I last wrote. Lots of frustrations, challenges and tantrums as I attempt to get our admin house in order for the publishing company and trust. The clear learning from that particular journey has to be setting proper systems in place at the beginning of projects. It is by far the better way!

Though, all in all, it seems to me this pilgrim is heading onwards in the right direction. Having sloughed-off Obstinate and Pliable, I’ve firmly grasped the hand of Help to lay some burdens down, and find myself striding forward with an air of enquiry and anticipation.

Last year, Mark and I reached an impasse in our marriage. Despite there being a great deal of love, there were also dangerous offences, taken up by both of us, that settled themselves into our psyche and there, nurtured by our belief systems, rampantly spread like noxious weeds.

We agreed to live apart awhile, to see if we could address the sad situation without constantly bickering, and Mark made arrangements to leave the marital home. Due to a pre-arranged business meeting in connection with our publishing ventures, he returned a week later for the appointment. We had not communicated during his absence and so it was with an estranged air that we welcomed the visitors into our home.

I’m still not quite sure what the (intended) purpose of that meeting was, except to say that our desperate prayers and God’s purposes were unequivocally addressed that pivotal July afternoon. After two questions and four and a half hours of coaching (for that is what it was, though not discernible to either Mark or myself), our marriage was re-ignited from the ashes and given an opportunity to move forward. And not just any old move forward. We were both invited to attend a year’s course that would re-educate and re-wire our brains, change the way we lived our lives, and equip us with the accreditation to pass those new tools onto others.

Miraculously, we were both offered places for free. The only drawbacks: we’d missed 6 days of the 24, meaning we’d have to work doubly hard to catch-up, and our attendance was required in two days time, Saturday and Sunday, in London! Due to our rather fragile relationship, neither of us had anything else planned for that weekend, and to make it even easier to accept, the gentleman heading up the course, offered to give us a lift from and to his home, fifteen minutes away, on those, and all future days of the course.

Both Mark and I were rendered speechless when our guests left the house. Finally Mark spoke: ‘I think we really need to be on this course, Lynette.‘ For the first time in ages – we agreed on something!

The rest, as they say, is history. Though that’s not strictly true, for the rest is the future – our future – together. We have now completed the course, and as well as having achieved very respectable passes, we find our lives and belief systems considerably changed, our marriage injected with new mutual love and respect, and a whole new way of treating ourselves and each other with kindness. We are learning how to walk with our loss, on the days when we cry as well as those we don’t; how to give each other the space to be ourselves, without weighing each other down with unrealistic expectations, and how to listen instead of judge.

It’s interesting to remind myself that kindness is one of the nine visible attributes of the Holy Spirit that hopefully sums up the Christian life in each of us. Kindness does not necessarily mean ‘being nice’. Nice is defined as being agreeable. In contrast, kindness is acting for the good of people, no matter what they do. Kindness is doing something and not expecting anything in return. Kindness is respect and helping others without waiting for someone to help one back.

Treating ourselves with kindness can often be overlooked. We can often blame ourselves for perceived wrong actions and hold onto guilt for our behaviour, or lack of it. These feelings, in turn, can chip away at our self-esteem, the worth we attribute to ourselves. It can misdirect us into confusing what we are with what we have or what we do.

Being kind to myself is realising that I was not responsible for being unable to heal my son from cancer. It is reminding myself, despite all the times I messed up, I did the best job I could do as his mother. I gave him all the love I could, all the care and attention I was able to at the time, and to be content in the knowledge that Mattie grew up in a home, surrounded by love, cared for, appreciated and valued for what he was – our precious son.

Being kind to Mark is realising that neither was he to blame for the tragic events that happened ten years ago. He did the best job of being Matt’s dad as he could do. Despite what inner agonies he endured, he never faltered being a supportive, loving husband and dedicated dad.

Being kind to our marriage is acting for the good of our relationship, no matter what, not expecting anything in return. And to keep on doing it, even if it seems hopeless, even if it hurts my prideful ego.

Please do not think in the writing of these thoughts that I have arrived, nor think myself so.
I fall flat on my face almost every day; and even by saying ‘almost’, possibly implies my ego thinks I get it right sometimes. I have come to a place in my life where I am happy to be in a place of not knowing – a place of enquiry, as my coach would say.

This pilgrim is happy to consider how far she has travelled, and even happier to focus on where she is headed towards. This pilgrim is learning to be kind to herself, and others. This pilgrim is allowing herself to have a life post-Matthew, without the sorrow and guilt. It is a daily laying down of pain and taking up of joy. And yes – I do miss him, with all my heart. And I do not know when I will see him again – though of that I am sure – I will see him again.

This pilgrim is progressing.

If you are interested in learning more about the coaching we have experienced and studied, please get in touch.