Finding Life Hard?

I am very grateful for the new Severn Bridge. It cuts off even more of the journey from Wales to the West Country than the old Severn suspension bridge used to, and far more than the old drive all the way round through Gloucestershire. Not that I remember that. Any trips we made to the West Country when I was a child were made on the train - the smelly old steam train that went through the tunnel under the river. You had to make sure the windows were closed when you approached the tunnel else your compartment would be filled with smoke.

That's a photo I found on the internet: I'm in Devon and don't have access to my photos of the bridge. Not only am I grateful for the usefulness of the bridge, I appreciate it for its beauty. It's a truly lovely creation, with fabulous lines and colours. I am in awe of the design and engineering skills that went into its construction, not to mention the actual feat of building across fast-flowing tidal water.

And now I'm safely in Devon and GrandDaughter keeps crying at me! I am feeling very unlovely.

Husband said, 'You should have enough fuel to get to Daughter's. At least you should make it to the end of the motorway.'

I'd just come over the bridge and the first sign I saw said Exeter 71 miles; Minni said I had enough fuel to do 68. Don't panic!

Next sign said Exeter 64 miles; Minni was saying I could do 70. Hey, I'm making petrol again. (Yes, Husband, I know: diesel!)

By the next sign we'd evened out and both sign and Minni said 49 miles.

We were two junctions off leaving the motorway and within the space of 1 minute Minni's 'number of miles you can do' gauge dropped from 21 to 13. And as I was approaching the last but one junction we were back up to 19.

Now I knew it wasn't 19 miles to the next junction, where I'd leave and go straight to Tesco's petrol station, but the way Minni's gauge had been going, should I cut my losses and get off early and try and find another garage?

Should I? Should I? Shoul ... oops, too late.

Well, we made it to Tesco's with a few miles to spare but I'm never leaving home without filling up first again!

I was lying on the floor after circuit training, supposed to be relaxing, and all I could think of was what I should have said to someone this morning.
It's so annoying when that happens.
I'd been telling someone - let's call him Charlie - how I'd been struck by the simplicity and power of the early church (as I blogged last Wednesday), and saying how far we'd come from that ideal. I also mentioned how impressed I'd been by the fact that people were attracted by what they saw.
Charlie pointed out that those were different days and there was no social services and that the church is no longer the first port of call for those in distress. And that, if the church was being born now, it would look different. From that he somehow got on to these mega and very theatrical churches like Hillsong and Willow Creek, and how some churches are attractional when they should be incarnational.
And, as usual, I ended up thinking, 'Yes, you're right; I'm wrong.'
But now I want to say, 'Why? Why would it look different?' I mean obviously it would look different physically but the underlying basis, the caring and sharing, and the teaching of Christ are still the most important and the things that would attract. And that the early church didn't 'attract' in the way grand productions and flashy shows attract, but they attracted because they were incarnational. Because they were living a life that said Jesus.
So that's what I should have said.
I always used to think Charlie was very clever - and he is very good at articulating and arguing and debating - but I've realised that he's very well-read and gets most of his arguments from books. That's not necessarily a bad thing - but it's not original.
Right, so I got that out of my system. Husband said I should phone Charlie and tell him but he'd only come up with other arguments and I'd end up losing again. So I'll just settle for blogging.

I am grateful for my son-in-law.
He and Daughter have been together for about 12 years now, and married for 7 of those. He is devoted to Daughter and shows it. He is a hard worker who's doing well in his career, and he loves his own daughter to bits. He's a very hands-on dad and does his fair share of changing pooey nappies as well as cuddling.
He's very athletic and a keen cyclist. Back in 2008, on a wet and miserable day, he took part in L'Etape (the amateur stage of Le Tour de France). We went to France with them and the first sunny day after the event we drove along the same route, up, up, up, into the mountains to the Col de Tourmalet, so Son-in-law - and we - could see where he'd cycled and just what he'd achieved. Up in the clouds, we were impressed.
Son-in-law is willing to learn and open to advice - especially from his father-in-law about whisky and DIY! That's the only problem really: he's picking up his father-in-law's sense of humour. They say daughters choose men who are like their fathers ...

I'm grateful for this beautiful sunny spring Sunday morning.

Gosh, Saturday went without me noticing so, in retrospect, I'm grateful that George only got each of us up once in the night, and that the butter didn't make him poo all over the house.
(Look, I said, this gratitude list would be random!)

I started making a big Christmas-style cake this afternoon. I put all the fruit to soak in brandy - a bit more, okay, maybe twice as much, than it said in the recipe as 6 tablespoons didn't look enough - and then I put 1 pound of butter in a large mixing bowl with brown sugar. Then I left the bowl on the work surface while the butter softened.Which is where George came across it. Note how he's carefully licked out ALL the pound of butter and left the sugar ...
If he gets us up in the middle of the night he will be doubly unpopular.

the seat collapses under me.
I look in the mirror and think, 'What's the matter with my hair?' Then I realise it's not my hair; my hair looks fine. It's my face that has seen better days.
Yes, I'm having a fat, old and grumpy day.
Which is not the right day to go and buy a new toilet seat. Because I come back with one that is ... (I would put the photo here but Blogger doesn't let me move photos around any more - so see next post) black and SPARKLY!

On Monday evening we started a new circuit in Thrive (circuit training class). It was mostly okay except for one particular exercise.
For this you had to squat down - as someone once described it to me - 'as if you're doing a poo in the woods'. Then you had to leap straight into a star jump.
And we had to do this for 60 seconds. Go on, you try it.
As luck would have it, my regular partner wasn't there so I was paired with the woman who, in 2 weeks' time, is doing a 30-mile sponsored run. And she kept talking to me, which would have been okay if she hadn't been asking me questions and expecting answers.
Monday night is the - I was going to say 'easy' class but it's not so instead I'll say I also go to Thrive on Thursday, which is the 'advanced' class. This week I missed it as I was in Devon. Husband, who went, told me, 'It was hard.'
I am so very grateful I didn't go to Thursday Thrive this week and I won't be going next week either as I'm back in Devon.

HollyDog, Grand-Daughter and I went for an explore this afternoon. We decided we'd follow a lane and see where it went: it didn't go anywhere. Probably my own fault for choosing the way, at the crossroads, that wasn't marked as leading to anywhere.

In fact it did lead somewhere: to Flock Mill and Old Heazle's Farm, which in turn led to a quick rendition of Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me your grey mare, all along down along out along lea .... And Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

We didn't mind not getting anywhere as it was a beautiful sunny afternoon to wander the peaceful Devonshire country lanes. We saw little lambs, a fat pheasant strutting across a field and a hare.
'How do you know it's a hare?' HollyDog asked.
'Because it looks like one.'
'What's the difference between a hare and a rabbit?'
'I have no idea.'
HollyDog looked at me rather skeptically. 'That then puts your identification of the hoppity thing into doubt I believe.'
I shook my head, 'It's March!'

(I had to explain about March hares and I don't think she was convinced but as neither she nor GrandDaughter, who was asleep, saw it, I think I can say without fear of contradiction that it was a hare. So there.)

I'm writing this in Daughter's office. Their garden backs onto a churchyard and tonight is bell-ringing practice. I do love church bells.

And now I'm going downstairs to have a cup of tea and a cookie - yes, in spite of saying, 'If I never see another cookie again it will be too soon,' I made some for Daughter this afternoon.

I am very grateful for my peeler.

I've had the same style one for years - the sort with a bit of string wrapped round the handle. The original one had its string renewed so many time before it finally gave up the ghost. My father-in-law, after seeing me use it one time when they were visiting, kindly bought me a new super-whizzo peeler ... but I couldn't get to grips with it.

I finally found another one the same as my first love - although without the bit of string.

I am reminded how much I love my peeler after struggling with Daughter's.

It's the simple things that make life simple.

I got two marriage proposals last night on the strength of my cookies.
They only love me for my cooking ...

I am so glad I passed my driving test way back when. If I had to retake it today I dread to consider the result. Not because I'm a bad driver, you understand! But because today's test includes parallel parking.
I will drive for miles to find a space I can just pull into.
And if I hadn't passed my test I wouldn't be able to drive to Devon today!
Yay! I'm spending the next 3 days helping to look after Grand-Daughter while her mum does some copy-writing work. It's a hard task but someone has to do it ...
Yay! Yay! Yay!

They lived in wonderful harmony, holding everything in common. They sold what they owned and pooled their resources so that each person's need was met....People in general liked what they saw.
It sounds idyllic, doesn't it? You'd never guess that the author is talking about a church.
But that's because the author is Luke, of gospel fame, and he's writing about the first Christian church.
The first believers devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles - who had it straight from the mouth of Jesus - living, eating and praying together. In The Message version of the Bible it says, 'every meal a celebration, exuberant and joyful, as they praised God.' It goes on to say, 'Every day their number grew ...'
How very far from the first idea of church have we come? And what a challenge it is. The list of things the believers did doesn't include going out and preaching at people, warning them of the hell fire that they're headed for; rather people went to the believers because they liked what they saw.
In many ways it's easier to preach at someone than to live a life that says Jesus, a life of love, forgiveness, compassion, a life that includes the excluded, that sacrifices. That's hard but it's what we're called to do.
We're looking at the Book of Acts in our current bible study in Zac's and this was the bit we looked at last night. Just five verses. Initially I thought, 'we can't get much from five verses, and verses, at that, which just talk of everyday life rather than amazing miracles or wonderful happenings.'
How wrong I was.
And if anywhere comes close to that ideal of church then it's Zac's. Looking around the group, after the 'formal' (ha ha) study bit, when this incredible diversity of people are all enjoying each other's company, drinking coffee, eating (fairtrade!) cookies, and talking meaningfully together, I get a tiny glimpse of what it must have been like back then. When people flocked to church 'because they liked what they saw.'

This is hard! Doing a daily thanks. Not finding things for which to be grateful but finding the time to write about them, in a way that will do justice. So, as it's time for bed, I'll use a photo and simply say I'm grateful for water, and even though I may sometimes grumble about the amount of rain we have, I'm glad that we have it in plentiful supply.

There's an old saying that goes something like this:

"To be born Welsh is to be born not with a silver spoon in your mouth but with music in your heart and poetry in your soul"

Today, on our patron saint David's day, I am grateful that I am Welsh - even though I can neither sing nor write poetry.

As I've grown older I have learned to appreciate - and love - all that being Welsh means. The history, the legend, the culture, the hwyl, the ups and downs on the rugby field, the male voice choirs, even Tom Jones.

The saying I've quoted comes from the first verse of a poem, In Passing, by Brian Harris:

To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.

The poem goes on to talk about 'ugliness that scars the Spirit', 'wounds that weep in hills', and 'stigmata of sorrow, of pain and poverty'.

In the history of our country, from early invasion to the horror of Aberfan, from the fifteenth century defeat of Owain Glyndwr to the twentieth century defeat of the miners, there is indeed cause for sorrow but also pride. I have discovered that to be Welsh is to have a sense of belonging, a connection with the homeland that not so long ago I would have laughed at. The word hiraeth is hard to define but loosely it means a deep longing for home. It's the reason I sigh as we pass the Welcome to Wales sign on re-entering my country.

I am grateful for my beautiful daughter (here celebrating her 30th birthday).

She's clever (1st class Honours), talented (Freelancer of the Year 2008), a gifted writer, a wonderful cook and a marvellous mother. She's also loving, kind, supportive, encouraging, forgiving, sensitive, wise and thoughtful.

I am delighted to call her Daughter.

Belatedly, my gratitude for yesterday is for the GX volunteers who came to the tea dance and made it the success it was. (We had a great time and I do so want to start dancing again!)

We have nine GX volunteers in Swansea. The scheme is a joint VSO/British Council initiative and involves volunteers from Britain and a third world country working together for 3 months at a time in Britain and the third world country. This year the overseas volunteers are from Zambia. The volunteers live with host families and in this country get £15 a week and in Zambia £3.

It was lovely to have them with us last night and two of them taught us a Zambian dance.