Today I went on a wander to try out some of the settings on my camera and the software I bought to accompany it. Not bad for a first attempt I thought!
The photos are a little big for the viewer 
but you can see them here.
Autumn in the village November 11, 2009
Yule-Thai’d & Red Cup Revels November 6, 2009
As I write, we are celebrating pseudo-Christmas here in our lovely house. Let me set the scene for you…. We are listening to Carols from Oxford on CD, we have winter green scented oil in the burner, we have ordered thai food (which I’ve never had before.) Later there will be crackers and homemade mince pies, and it’s all being washed down with Starbucks Christmas blend and some yummy mulled wine… happy times!! (pictures to follow).
Oh, and at the mo I am eating chocolate orange with popping candy… which is the most bizarre thing ever.
Tonight could be a metaphor for the whole week really. I have done a bit of work but a lot of revelling. This week has marked Red Cup day, which is when Starbucks launch their Christmas drinks range…
On Wednesday evening I went to a firework party with the guys from cell. Top marks for entertainment and ingenuity, for company and for nibbles 
I have been playing with the new software I bought for my mac. It means I can do all the graphic design and website creation stuff I need to for my course.
Oh and I have been getting to know Sirius, who is the new kitten living at our house. He is very lovely!
Travels & Significant Moments October 31, 2009
This week has been Reading Week. So I shall begin by admitting to having done no reading whatsoever… Three essays are looming so next week really must be the week of work. This week, however, has been the week of visiting friends and sharing in significant moments.
A lovely friend here offered me a free trip up to London, as she was heading that way anyway. I accepted, and last Saturday found us winding our way up towards our glorious capital, singing cheesy 90’s pop anthems and generally trying to wake ourselves up. I arrived and sought out the Wandsworth SA Fairtrade coffee-shop, a date that used to be one of my monthly highlights. Think bacon rolls, banana and walnut cake, and as many friends as you can fit into one building. It was lovely to stroll through the doors of church like it was the most normal thing in the world. Lovely, if a little strange.
The next few days passed in a whirl of friends, coffee shop visits and catching up. I went to church on the Sunday. I sat in the park for hours with a close friend. I ate surf & turf with two of my favourite people in the whole world. On Monday I popped into my old work and spent some time stuffing envelopes, just to help out and keep my hand in. Then I had lunch with my lovely ex-workmates. It was fab to see them all again. I went to Ikea, a favoured old haunt, and ate meatballs with more lovely people. On Tuesday night I took part in the church prayer walk… how I’ve missed those!
On Wednesday I travelled back here with my lovely friend, accompanied by the fantastic music of Take That. It had been nice to be away but it was great to be back, really great. I flung myself into more coffee meetings, cell group and just generally reacquainted myself with this place which I love so much.
Yesterday was a significant day, as Alan and the kids went to Giants Causeway to scatter Jo’s ashes. The grief and loss of it all seemed very real, as we thought about them, and the events of four months ago. I still really miss her. and then in another corner of the country, on a different beach, looking out across a different sea, myself and a friend marked loss and release in our own way, handing precious people over to God. So I think I feel a bit headwrecked after all of that, but still sure that God has all of these things in hand, and trusting him for the good plans he has for us.
Last night I headed to a half night of prayer at church. It probably sounds over-effusive, but I loved it. I miss the focussed intercession of prayernet in Wandsworth. I miss grappling with something and listening to God and feeding back. I miss creative prayer, but last night encouraged me and inspired me that, though in a different place, there is very definitely ‘prayer-stuff’ I can get my teeth into here, and God very definitely has things to say and do in this place. Hurrah for that!
Bookmunching October 18, 2009
I have read three novels this week (coincidentally none of them are the ones I am meant to have read for my course… oops). I have loved, intrigued and eagerly devoured all three, and have thrice experienced that familiar paradox of satisfaction and disappointment as I finished the last word of the last paragraph of each one. So I thought I’d write about them
Firstly, I read Beloved, by Toni Morrison. An account of one woman and her family and their experience of slavery. The language was quite hard to get to grips with, as it’s based in 19th Century America, and the content was difficult, graphic, disturbing. That said I think it was one of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It was gritty and complex and I couldn’t switch off when I put it down. I found myself willing there to be a happy ending. I found myself thinking about the subject of slavery long after the story was over. I also found myself thinking about suffering, the strength of the human spirit, religion, and a whole bunch of related stuff that is still percolating in my mind.
Next on the list was The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas. The best surprise about this was that when I started reading I realised I recognised the scenery and the setting, so I could visualise what I was reading from almost the first page. That really brought the story alive for me. I loved the main character, Ariel… I could identify with her a lot, and so I found myself willing her to make the right decisions and to triumph. I liked the messiness and the unpredictability and the sheer imagination woven through the plot. I went straight to Amazon after finishing and got her next book (for a penny… result!).
Lastly I read A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka. I loved the merging of genres in this. Sometimes it felt like a history book, sometimes comedy, sometimes romance, and other times it made me feel so sad. I liked the way she surreptitiously makes comments about society, racism and loneliness. Like the other two, this felt like a story about struggle… I wasn’t sure how it would end or if good would triumph. It made me laugh and cry.
I suppose I should get back to Doctor Faustus now… Joy of joys!
Inspired… October 16, 2009
So, my course at uni is digital art, and so I spend a lot of time trawling the net for expressions of creativity expressed in digital form. I don’t really have an answer to the “What do you want to do when you graduate?” question, but I know it is something about creativity, healing, prayer… something that fuses together all of those things and helps people find freedom from different kinds of captivity.
Creativity has always energised, engaged me. Perhaps that’s what first got me into 24-7 prayer… the sense that my communication with God could be something tangible, expressive… something I splay across a page in bright paint, or form in my hands with wet clay. And one of the best things about this new, relaxed schedule I find myself enjoying, is that the creativity I simply didn’t have time for in London (or, I didn’t make time for…) is bursting out.
I have been scribbling in notebooks, taking lots of photos, doodling on the corners of seminar notes. It is so refreshing to have space to think. One of the projects we are doing this term is to create a self portrait website from scratch – a task which I am really enjoying – rifling through old journals and pictures I drew when I was a kid and building a picture that hopefully communicates something, and something that will hopefully point to the amazing difference God has made in my life.
Anyway, I started this post to talk about a website I found… I guess if being at uni has reminded me of anything, it’s that there are a lot of people struggling and a lot of them have little or no support. They have noone to turn to. That breaks my heart and inspires me to pray for them, and for opportunities to reflect hope to them.
There is a ministry in Amercia called, To Write Love On Her Arms, which aims to help people find freedom from Self Injury, and other destructive behaviour patterns. I often look at their stuff and am inspired and challenged by the stories I read. I often follow links and links from there too, just to see where I end up.
This week I found a site called Heart Connection, which is like an online community where people can share their stories and get help, ask questions, get prayer etc. I know that forums can be really helpful, so I was intrigued. I kept following links, and eventually found this site:
http://www.heartsupport.com/getinvolved/visualedition/
It’s a space where people can submit pictures, photos artwork that reflects where they are on their journeys. It reminds me a bit of postsecret, where people send in an anonymous, artworked postcard of a secret they want to share. I went through a lot of different emotions, looking at the photos – joy and hope at the freedom some people were finding, a sense of urgency that there is so much pain and need out there, and sadness, I felt so stirred up by the honesty and rawness in some of the submissions. The picture above is just one example.
…The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners… (Isaiah 61:1)
Ann on the bus, and other stories October 13, 2009
One of the most glorious features of the past two weeks has been the three visits from lovely, London-related friends. It was such a blessing that they would come, that they would choose to spend time here in this lovely but entirely unfamiliar city, and that they would feign interest in my dubious yet enthusiastic tourist guiding (“Look! Let’s stop and watch that bus trying to fit through those towers)…
This is a good place to visit. There are many lovely coffee shops, there is the beach, only a stones throw away, and many other delights. I have loved catching up with people I really care about, people I miss hugely – in this strange in-between season where I haven’t quite managed to convince myself that this is not a holiday, that I really can’t jump on a bus to their house for an spontaneous sausage sandwich… It was great to catch up.
This week, which heralds the celebration of a full four weeks here, has been great so far. Yesterday, I felt like a real student when we all got kicked out of our seminar for not having read the text (We’re all sure she didn’t tell us to). I spent some time hanging out with a good friend from my course, then we went back to my house and drank tea (surely doing much damage to the myth that I am engaging in any sort of student hedonism. It’s all tea and early nights here). Then my lovely house companions made yummy salmon, and we had rhubarb crumble (no supernoodles for me!!).
Today, I am in the library studying… studying not blogging… Must. Do. Work.
But I did want to tell two stories that impacted me from the weekend. On Saturday, myself and my two lovely friends caught a bus to the seaside. It’s only a short journey, probably fifteen minutes or so, and I just happened to sit on the outside, nearest to the other passengers. I got talking to a lovely lady called Ann (or maybe Anne… it makes me feel sad that I don’t know how it is spelt). Ann was telling me about her journey, about how she’d spent two hours on a bus to get to the seaside for a day, how it was the only outing she’d had for a while, and that she so missed being around people, so talking to me on the bus made her day. It was one of those conversations – we talked about the weather, the bus (which had just been involved in a minor collision), the election, the state of the nation, her family… I could tell that she was really lonely, and I really wanted to spend more time with her, to hear her story. It made me think about how I take contact and interaction for granted, I speak to people all the time, I have countless coffee meetings each week, and yet Ann had noone to talk to at all. It made me think about London, and how noone talks to anyone on buses there (except when it snows, or when there is a national emergency)… it made me want to keep my eyes open for more lonely people on buses who could just do with an inconsequential natter. It’s made me think twice about plugging my headphones in and withdrawing from the world around me this week for sure.
I hope Ann had a nice time at the beach. I hope she enjoyed her tuna sandwiches. I’m praying that she gets to enjoy the beauty of community back where she lives, that someone will draw alongside her and just listen. Bless her.
My other story involves scones, and was probably the funniest thing that happened to us on Saturday. We had decided that a perfect accoutrement to tea would be scones, with jam and cream (refer to my earlier point about the lack of hedonism), and so had proudly snaffled some before we left seaside-land. The purchase itself had been amusing, because my friends choose the wise option of a pack of scones reduced to 72p, while I viewed this with a certain suspicion. Anyway, we got home and decided to have a brief break. My friends went to have a snooze, while I went on a trip to the supermarket to procure some clotted cream.
I got back, to find a scene of carnage in the kitchen. Dogs are lovely, but they seem to have no food-related decorum (at least the dogs in question, anyhow). All that was left of the scones were some ripped up cellophane, and a smattering of crumbs strewn liberally around. I think they had enjoyed the feast (not minding that the scones were short-dated it seems). I stood there for a while, holding the now-redundant clotted-cream, wondering what to do.
This is where my friends husband saves the day. He decided to make us some new scones, and glorious they were. There were bacon and red onion scones, with special homemade maple chutney, and then normal scones, with fab raspberry jam. We feasted… and the dogs got none. We decided to take it as a spiritual lesson – that when stuff gets stolen, God always has better in store!
I think that’s all my stories for today… Back to Doctor Faustus then!
Updates September 30, 2009
So much to say but with no logical order in which to frame it, hmm… I think I felt more confident blogging when I was telling exciting tales about my forays into the world of prayer, but is writing about freshers flu, myriad coffee meets, and the delights of library tours as worthy? I think so…
I love being a student. One of our first assignments is to create a self portrait website. We’ve been given a ‘blank page’ when it comes to layout, design, content – it can feature whatever we like (and as ever my imagination is far outrunning my technical expertise). How exactly do you get handwritten words to curl up off a journal page and project themselves onto blank walls? How do you make pages flick over as if caught by the wind? How do I make a bookcase slide forward on a click, revealing an Anne Frank-style secret room behind? These are the questions permeating my mind while I sip double shot lattes and wait for buses (which never run on time in the countryside, let me tell you!!).
My fellow students are an intriguing bunch. I love the variety and the colour and the spice they bring into my life. Gone is ’safe-christian world’ where most people I know have the same thoughts and beliefs and even goals as me. Welcome to the eclectic melee of different backgrounds, ideologies, life-experiences that is the educational establishment: The ‘athiestic corner’ that detest studying medieval morality plays – (“I don’t get why they’re all ’bout Jesus ‘n stuff”, winning quote of the week prize I think); the scraggled early-morning bunch gathered for morning office in the uni chapel (they all knew when to stand up and sit down though, and they definitely knew what a canticle was, unlike my good self…); the varying degrees of hangover observable during the progression of freshers week, overhearing conversations that intrigue, horrify cause ones mind to boggle… it all gives me much to muse over.
I’m also loving delving into new relationships, new forms of community. Wandsworth was great for that – like a jumper that fits you just right, and there may be holes in the elbows now but that kinda just adds to the charm. So coming here was a bit of a worry on that score. What if I just didn’t find that? What if here was some sort of relational black-hole? What if I just didn’t fit in? (and a thousand other thoughts and little insecurities that many freshers before me have thought I’m sure). And I have been homesick. I knew it was bad today when I found myself thinking about and missing the little raised up bit of pavement by the HSBC cashpoint in Wandsworth that I always used, and always made the effort to walk on even when I wasn’t using the cashpoint (not obsessive much….). Anyway…
I’ve been relieved to find out that my fears haven’t been realised. Here is different, but not bad different, it’s refreshing. In fact it’s been a bit of a social whirlwind… I’ve been to new cell groups (which I’ve loved, felt energised by, been prayed for at, felt at home in, ate yummy calzone in, and generally been able to be myself at…Woop!), I’ve sung in Handel’s Messiah (yes, really… it felt good to dust off those good ole top soprano notes that haven’t had much use for a while), I’ve been to a church prayer meeting, (and then joined them for coffee and a tea-cake afterwards in the most endearing little coffee-shop), I’ve sat in Macdonalds with some of my fellow-freshers (and tried not to feel out of place, being over 20 and not exactly revering the aforementioned fast-food option), oh – and I helped to set the cakes and biscuits out on a plate at church on Sunday evening (you know you fit in somewhere when you know where they keep cling film).
I think I like the second week in a new place better than the first. Last week I was sorely tempted to buy a T-Shirt with “I am Vicki, I am a student at…, I am studying…, I used to live in London” etc on. At times it felt daunting to have to introduce myself all the time, and even just the intensity of finding the rooms where our lectures were, understanding the groups and abbreviations, remembering student IDs and IT passwords and the like. There were times when I wanted to stay in and just not have to face another round of introductions. But this week I feel more resolute. This morning I dared to venture to the chapel, this morning I remembered the names of some of my classmates, this morning I didn’t have to extricate my much-folded campus map from its cosy home in my rucksack – it’s all becoming a little more intuitive. It feels a bit like there is the space to enjoy some of this now, to remember how much I love this place, to get excited about what God is doing here, to actually think about what I can contribute and what I want to build into my rhythm of life in this season. To pick a picture analogy, I guess it feels like the cement in the foundations has solidified enough to support me putting some metal beams in place – to begin building a framework of life and community and celebration and stillness and discipline and accountability and freedom and grace that will hopefully typify and give structure and stability to these next few years.
Thursdays are my busiest day lecture-wise, and then I have a weekend of showing much-beloved friends around my new locality to look forward to. I can’t wait to see them – to drink coffee with them, to show them my soon-to-be-familiar-but-as-yet-still-new haunts, to blow raspberries on their tummies and bounce them on my knee, to talk about pterodactyls and diggers and to wander round shops comparing fabric remnants (they represent a selection of ages, you understand). I love it that the life and loves I enjoyed in Wandsworth and over the past five years do not end because I am here, but I get to experience new depths to them, as the distance makes me appreciate them even more.
Will hopefully post some photos post-weekend. Hurrah for exciting new chapters eh!
Everything they tell you about Freshers week is true September 23, 2009
Uni started on Monday, with a bunch of us, awkward with nervousness, waiting outside a classroom. Inside they blinded us with technical terms and room numbers, but we each made a friend or two I think.
Today was the first real lecture. We had to practise logging into macs, (and very spangly they were too) and then identify our favourite colours, music, food, and place, as well as significant events in our lives and memories etc. The point of this was to create a sort-of self portrait… apparently these things define us. Apparently by subscribing to social networking sites we are just adopting the “denim-boiler-suit mold of uniformity”, and in the process eliminating segments of our identities (there’s a phrase to throw into the next pro vs anti-facebook debate I find myself embroigled in).
So our first assignment is to create a digital, on-line self portrait in the form of a website. My mind was working overtime with thoughts and creative ways of presenting it and quite how definite I felt about my self-portrait not including what favour crisps I enjoy… I can’t wait to get started.
My lecturer also raised an interesting point by suggesting ‘the devil’ when my polish classmate was having trouble thinking up his favourite fictional character. I was a little incensed – why would anyone pick that as their favourite? And… fictional?!?! I think not!
Anyway… after our lecture was done we were exposed full-tilt to the extremities of freshers fair. I kinda had this mental image of a sedate line of tables, with people sat on chairs with polite clipboards offering entry to the lacrosse society etc. What I found myself immersed in was a full-scale sensory assault – loud pumping music, people on all sides touting their wares (“Free Pizza”, “S Club 7 Reunion night tickets” “Insure your computers” “Excuse me have you thought about joining amnesty?”), enough paper and leaflets being shoved into ones hands to forest a small area of South America, and a lot of meandering, overwhelmed freshers herded into a very small space.
I managed to dodge the very enthusiastic karate club members, secure a yummy bit of pizza, collect a lot of free pens and several free T-shirts, and get out with my life and sanity still intact – result!!
The choice and selection of clubs and societies really were overwhelming, and everyone had that perma-smiley, slightly artificial “yes come and join our club because it really is the best of them all and it will change your life” type sales pitch. I also felt sorry for the people who’ll be data-entrying all the hundreds of email addresses they collected…
I feel like a proper fresher though now, having navigated my way through the excitement and intrigue of that. (although my classmate was bemused today by my avoidance of the pirate pub crawl night, and the school disco party on Friday).
So all is well on the whole. And heres to exciting times ahead!!
Leaving Shenanigans! September 17, 2009
I left Wandsworth today. There’s a weird sentence to type. I think my heads in too much of a fuzz to comment much, except to say that I am thankful for all that has been, and excited – so excited about all that is to come.
In the mean time, some photees from my last weeks at Wandsworth:
Ruth made me an amazing starbucks cake (the medium sized cup was entirely edible!)
Caz made me a beautiful chocolate and raspberry cake:
There was a lovely party, with speeches:
Mandy came too, which was lovely (and then she helped me drive stuff many miles)… woop for her!
More soon… must unpack!
Love, Live, Learn, Lose September 10, 2009
For the past three years I’ve been working for the Salvation Army based at our wondrous Uk & Ireland headquarters in London.
Today is my last day, which is weird. I don’t think I expected to have such a melee of feelings, for the bittersweet-ness to be quite this intense! This lunchtime I shared a meal with a small group of my colleagues, and I have to admit to pulling back from the conversation a few times just to muse about that little group of people, about the joys and challenges of journeying together, and about all the things I have seen over the past 36-ish months.
A lot of people think that THQ is quirky, and it is true that it has its own unique character and personality. When you have sat, desk quivering through the sprinkler-test, or ridden out the boil-freeze-boil-freeze heating system, I think you come out the other end with a real fondness for the place and for the people, and for a greater desire than ever to see this denomination fulfil what is was raised up to do – to save souls, to grow saints and to serve suffering humanity. Actually, I don’t think that’s a reflection on the sprinkler system, I think it’s the spirit of God that hovers in the place, sometimes unnoticed but always having an impact.
I’ve come to the conclusion that every member of the Salvation Army should work or volunteer at THQ for at least a month of their lives. It gives you such a fuller picture of how the SA fits together – like seeing the cogs that turn the machine wheels, and I’ve found it inspirational. I’ve tried to add some colour to the place – with my bright socks and glittery reindeer adorning my desk, but more than appearance it’s about attitude… working here has given me a refreshed vision for the Salvation Army, re-invigorating my hope for a church raised up to live out an Isaiah 61 sort-of Christianity: setting the captives free and proclaiming good news for the poor and the downtrodden and the oppressed.
I’ve already mentioned the year of discipleship, and ALOVE uk chose the four words above to explore this theme further. I like to think they sum up my experience of working for the Salvation Army, and specifically working to champion the cause of prayer within it. I was and will remain passionate that we are called to pray and to wrestle and to ‘believe the future into being’ with our prayers.
These years have been about Loving – the most fervent prayer, in my opinion, springs out of a love relationship with God and with a passionate belief that we are his beloved. I long for more people to grasp what this means, and for the church as a whole to live out of that place – understanding our position as friends and lovers, as opposed to servants and employees of our creator. Love gives and spends itself on behalf of others, love inspires the desperate prayer for a lost family member or a broken colleague or peace in our world. Oh that we, that I, would learn to love more perfectly.
They have been about Living – understanding prayer as something that weaves through our day to day lives with beauty and simplicity, living out a journey of ups and downs and sudden-corners that shake and unnerve us but that we can make it through as a community of believers with a unified mission. It has been believing that the ‘life in fullness’ promise of God extends to my life in the office, behind a desk, wrestling with a photocopier – the mundane and everyday things we all do.
There has been Learning, many many lessons that I have grappled with and often only petulantly accepted. I’ve learned about myself, my skills and talents as well as my weaknesses and struggles. I have learnt to work in a team and to be more ready to ask for help and to be less frightened of failing. I have learnt that no-one has it all together and we are all walking and changing and being healed. I have learnt that prayer helps me learn – I hear Gods voice and he teaches me at a pace which is perfect and which never pulls me down or makes me feel small.
And then, there’s Losing. (We’ll leave this one to last because it’s hard to come up with a natty paragraph about stuff which still stirs my heart, still hurts to think about). I remember when I started this job, some keen prophetic type told me that, as my influence rose, at the same time there would be a going down, a stripping away, a brokenness that would increase simultaneously. I wasn’t so sure what all that meant at the time. The thought of my having any influence at all freaked me out, and brokenness just didn’t seem to fit into my nice, neat plans for things. Why would God bring me down at the same time as raising me up? From my three years older and maybe a little wiser place, I think I understand it a little more. I’ve felt the sting of unanswered prayer and I’ve seen the frustrations of unmet expectations around me. I’ve lost people who I loved desperately at seemingly the most untimely moments, when so much seems unfinished. There have been many, many times when my prayers have been ‘God… this makes no sense… what are you playing at?’
Through all these experiences, there have been some truths that I hold on to, that have been I think indelibly written on my heart through these past years of triumph and struggle, of joy and of sorrow. These include: Prayer works, Jesus always does something even if it looks like the opposite is true. None of us are too far away from God, or our lives too ‘messed up’ for him to heal and change and use for his glory. I’ve learnt that he really does choose the weak and foolish things to shame the wise, and that he really does use all things for good for those that love him.
This truly has been a beautiful chapter of my life, and one I will thank God for, ponder on, and learn from as long as I live.
