Embracing where we are

I am about to turn 40.

And you know what? I am totally ok about it.

I think there is some level of expectation that I should be facing it with trepidation or mild depression or a sense of impending doom. Conversations about entering the next decade, whichever one, always seem to be prefaced with some sense of "it is all downhill from here". 

But, you see, that hasn't really been my experience of any other decade (ok, to be fair, being under ten was way more fun than being a teenager, but that aside) so I'm assuming it won't be for this one either. 

There seems to be a societal obsession with "younger is better". Fuelled, undoubtedly, partly by celebrity culture, and by a multi-billion pound (probably, I haven't exactly checked) industry which tries to sell us youth in consumer products. 

Fuelled, ultimately I guess, by the fact that being happy with who and where you are in life is not good for business. Our economic model of consumer capitalism relies on dissatisfaction. And as getting older applies to us all, if you are relying on creating a culture of dissatisfaction with your reality it is probably a pretty good target. Like all the best marketing strategies it is subtle and insidious and pervasive. And, it seems, it works. 

It saddens me that we are trained to think, and so many of us seem to succumb to thinking that it is always some part of our past that is "the best days of my life". That there are all those things labelled as "good to do while you are young" which are for some reason going to be out of bounds past a certain age. That being and staying young is some sort of (unachievable) state we should somehow all aspire too. Even though it is not how I really feel, at times I find myself slipping into that rhetoric too. And then we are encouraged to spend our energy and our cash trying to fill the gaps in a life which isn't as good as it once was, isn't as good as it could have been, could still be if we dared to embrace possibilities we have written off as not things to do at "this age". 

And yes, maybe I'll feel differently about this whole age thing when my mind or body start failing me. But that is not where I am right now.

Right now life remains rich and full. Right now there is so much more to come.

I do personally think anyone who says school is the best days of your life is frankly bonkers or in extreme denial! I did, though, love my formative university years, source of so many happy memories. But my twenties too were full of variety and adventure and experience and growth and were genuinely wonderful. My thirties have been different to that which had come before, but in many ways life has continued to get fuller and richer (apart from maybe the last year or so which isn't entirely what I'd have chosen!)

And so I guess I trust the same will be true of my forties. The journey continues. It won't be the same as that which preceded it. There is no reason to think it isn't full of the potential to be even better. 

This started out with intention of being a pretty simple statement of the fact that you know what, being forty is probably going to be ok. It seems it turned into a bit more of a rambling treatise. I suspect no-one reading it is in the least bit surprised! 

Soaring with Clipped Wings

I haven't written very much poetry recently. I have, however, had the privilege of working with a very wonderful group of people to help them write what are, I think, some very beautiful poems. 

Most of them do not speak English as a first language, and most of them would not naturally describe themselves as poets. Despite these things their words are able to express the depths and heights of their human experience.

Earlier in the year, one of them exclaimed "we should publish this!" That exclamation stands as testament to their growing confidence, their sense of self-worth, and to their deepening understanding that they have a voice, one that others should hear.  

And so from that exclamation, came this book. This week, Refugee Week, the poetry book "Soaring with Clipped Wings", containing much of what we have written together over the past 18 months arrived. It is the fruit of lots of conversations, plenty of laughter, a few tears. Altogether 36 people from 22 different countries were in some way involved in writing it. 

I am delighted with it. More importantly, so are they. 

This video is one of the poems from the book: inspired by a poem of the same name by Maya Angelou,  written collaboratively and performed by some of the members of the group. 

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaI0mwQKAFY)

It would be remiss of me not to mention that the book is available for sale for £5 (plus p&p). 

First and foremost because we believe their words are beautiful and powerful and deserve an audience, but also as a fundraiser for the Stories of Hope and Home project. 

There is no easy online sales option, sorry, but you can order copies by sending an email to info@storiesofhome.org.uk

Under the tree of Mamre

In Genesis 18, Abraham and Sarah receive three visitors. They are welcomed: with water to wash their feet, freshly-baked bread and the killing of a fatted calf. In return Abraham and Sarah receive a promise: that despite their old age, they will still bear a son. It is a promise that seems impossible: Abraham wonders, Sarah laughs; but it is a promise which, we are told a couple of chapters later, come true.

It is a story which is filled with rich imagery and theological depth.

It is also a simple story of welcome and hospitality.

The imaginative contemplation shared here is a variation on one I have used a number of times, to invite others to reflect on the gift of encounter, including most recently with some very lovely year 5s (yes, I've been allowed out on real-life school visits, not on zoom, that was fun!)

Imagine. Abraham was sitting under a tree in Mamre, but imagining ourselves back a few thousand years to a very different culture and context isn't always easy, so don’t try to imagine yourself there. Find your own equivalent. Find what this story really means to us, here and now. This is home. Imagine yourself into a place where you feel safe, comfortable, happy. When the day's work is mostly done and it is time to relax.

Picture that scene. What can you see, hear, smell? Above all, how do you feel?

And then. Imagine. Three strangers appear at the edge of your field of vision: over the garden fence, perhaps, or glimpsed through the window. You have never seen them before and it is unusual to see people in that place or at that time. This is not a normal time of day to be travelling. These people are not supposed to be here. 

What are your first thoughts? Your first reaction?

Do you look up ... or look away? Do you hope that they see you ... or hope that they don't? Do you smile and wave ... or quickly duck behind the curtains? 

Would you run to greet them? Or run and hide?

In Abraham’s story, what happens next is a moment of encounter. Imagine. Make that be true in your story too. Imagine meeting those three strangers. How does it go? Do you speak the same language? Do you manage to communicate? How is your offer of hospitality received? What do you choose to offer or to share ... and what do you choose to withhold? 

Imagine. Share food together. For you it might not be freshly-baked bread and a choice tender calf. What is your own equivalent? Your special meal, your generous welcome. Imagine the sounds, the smells, the tastes as you sit at table together.

Above all, how do you feel?

And then there is an offer, a promise, a gift. 

Imagine. What do these travellers bring to you? And how do you react to what is offered when you realise it is something good? Are you surprised, troubled and confused? Do you laugh, and deny that it is possible? Do you fold your arms across your chest, thinking you don’t need or want anything from them? 

Or do you open your hands, your mind, your heart? Do you receive what is offered?

Do you recognise it just might be of God?

"Continue to love one another as brothers and sisters; and remember always to welcome strangers; for by doing this, some people have entertained angels without knowing it"

Hebrews 13: 1 - 2 

Adjusting to a new reality (again)

"Adjusting to a new reality" was the title of the blog post I wrote in early April last year, the first I had written since the Covid-19 pandemic had turned all our lives upside down. It is quite possibly, a title I could have used a fair few times in the interim as we have followed the twists of turns of life in a pandemic. It is, certainly, one it seems apt to use now. 

Because here we are again, adapting, adjusting, to another new reality which we don't fully understand: even if this one is at least superficially more similar to the normal we once knew. 

And a bit like in spring last year, when I initially struggled to put the experience into words but knew that I wanted to; now too it feels important to try and capture this experience in all its raw reality. I have returned to this post several times in the last couple of weeks without making much progress.

There is so much that is so good about having reached step 3 on the roadmap, with step 4 hovering on the horizon almost in view. For over a year this is that towards which our souls have yearned.

• We have had visitors to the flat again. We have even had visitors who were there when we went to bed and still there when we woke up in the morning!
• I have experienced the generous hospitality of others, in their homes. I have been able to plan to meet or visit people without having a proviso of "but not it it rains." 
• The Stories of Hope and Home group have not only been able to start meeting again, but have even, at last, been able to drink tea together.
• I have blown a million bubbles and seen the irrepressible smiles of the families finally welcomed back to the Birch drop-in. 
• I have welcomed back the junior church children and been reminded how much it is valued by both the children and their parents.
• I have travelled outside Birmingham, have breathed in the fresh air of the countryside, and watched the sunset over the sea.
• I have a diary filling up with things which are not just yet more zoom meeting, I am seeing glimmers of variety where there was only mundanity, and I am recapturing a new sense of busy-ness and purpose.
• I have started to dare to make plans more than just a few days ahead and to believe that they will be able to happen.
• I have hugged friends.
• I have, I hope, remembered to be immensely thankful and not to take any of this for granted.

I am genuinely very happy about all of this. This is much closer to the life I love and want to live.

And yet, somehow, it would be dishonest to paint this as a picture of perfection with no downsides because that wouldn't entirely reflect reality. Despite, or perhaps because of the waiting, not everything about following this roadmap has always been easy and without issue. Sometimes it feels like we are supposed to be in full celebratory mood seeing only the positives as we step out along this road, but I suspect I am not alone in thinking there also still needs to be space to admit to the parts which are still something of a struggle. 

• Things are not yet "back to normal" and the ways in which they are also shine a light revealing the ways in which they are not. I, we all, are still existing in a heightened state of vigilance, a constant weighing up of what is ok, what is safe, a constant balancing and rebalancing of risks and benefits and I think we would do well not to underestimate the impact that living with that constant tension, of never, really being able to fully relax, is having on us. 
• Seeing again, really seeing, with the possibility of deeper conversations and more personal encounters, some of those I care most deeply about has of course been wonderful, but it has also revealed more clearly the toll the last year has taken, both on on group dynamics which need to be rebuilt, and on many of those individuals.
• The city centre is busy again: and I love the bustle and colour and variety and life of it ... but after a year surrounded by closed shops, the reopening has also brought into stark relief the hideous excesses of consumerism. I like seeing people, but seeing people choosing to spend sunny days queuing in order to shop for things they probably don't need is frankly somewhat depressing.
• Those who know me will know I am not very good at map reading ... and perhaps roadmap reading is no different! I have spent so many hours reading and rereading government guidance, writing and rewriting risk assessments. 
• I am having to relearn to build a routine in which time works differently: that whereas before a zoom meeting, it takes mere minutes to switch from one activity to the next, that when the meeting is elsewhere getting ready time and travelling time need to be factored in. There are good things about this: the liminal space between things which I have somewhat lost over the last year is helpful and healthy, but there's a definite readjustment required. 
• I am definitely an extrovert and enjoy and draw life from the company of others, and yet even for me, I am finding I am having to relearn how to exist in all these different social contexts and for all the joy and life it brings, and don't get me wrong, it really does, I am also finding it quite exhausting. It's a different kind of tired to the lethargy I have experienced in the last year, a better kind of tired, really, I think. But still, I am definitely going to have to build up my stamina again! I shudder to think how my introvert friends are feeling and hope they are finding a route along this map which works for them.

I feel like my "not so perfect list" became longer than my celebratory one. That probably isn't a fair reflection of the balance of how I feel. Overall I am very, very glad to have reached this point. Overall I will definitely take the exhaustion as a price well worth paying for the excitement of encounters and reunions and possibilities and plans. Onwards! 

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On another unrelated note: Blogger tells me that some point this month the current email subscription set-up will come to an end. I need to decide whether to look into setting up a different way of sharing my blog by email, or just relying on people clicking on it from time to time to see what's new. If you read this by email and would like to continue to get emails, could you maybe let me know. Thank you!