The Moral Dilemma of the Tooth Fairy

In the three weeks that I have been working in a school I have had some interesting conversations with the kids about faith and religion. They have some pretty deep conversations – for example “did humans evolve or were they made from mud?”, “how could Mary also be God?” You know, just your standard topics for seven year olds.

But the other day I was asked one of the most serious questions of all and I had no idea what to say.

“Rachel, is the Tooth Fairy real?”

Five innocent faces turned to me awaiting confirmation of their argument that the Tooth Fairy is either real or your parents.

Such an innocent question that sparked a major Moral Dilemma and blind panic.

What was I supposed to say?

I had to either confirm a lie or destroy a belief in a kindly fairy that takes away your teeth that have fallen out and replaces it with money.

I had the opportunity to stand up for the Tooth Truth and defeat some of the lies adults needlessly tell children. The downside being it would probably make some kids cry and their parents very angry (although in the long run not having to give their kid money for every tooth would save them atleast £20).

Was this child asking me because they thought that as an adult I would tell them the truth? Or were they just asking me because I happened to be there at the time?

Cue the major soul searching. Did I want to lie? Did I want to crush their dreams?

In the end I totally wimped out and said “Well, the tooth fairy always visited me when I was young”. I mean, I had just sat there in their science lesson and not said anything about how the evolution of dinosaurs from lizards was more of an opinion rather than a fact, even though it’s taught as one.

I had better start prepping my answer to the Father Christmas question.

The Trials of Walking to Work

So, here we are, at the end of my first half term holiday. I have decided that half term is one of the greatest things ever. 

The school I work at is only a 35 minute walk away (30 minute brisk walk if I decided that I couldn't live without an extra 5 in bed)  and so I've set myself the challenge of walking to and from school four out of the five days I'm there. When I tell people this they sound amazed but I'm sure the tube/bus would take longer and so by walking I'm actually taking the lazier option that means I get to spend more time asleep.This walking commute has revealed to me a number of things, one of which is the lack of trust I have in my fellow Londoners:

I do not trust cyclists – they seem to think that they are above the Highway Code and so stopping at red lights are optional, even when they’re going at a million miles an hour and there are pedestrians (who have patiently waited for the green man) trying to cross the road. Suffice to say I have become an expert in diving out of the way of said cyclists while giving them a Death Stare that I hope conveys some of the contempt I have for them – in a loving Jesus way of course.

I do not trust motorbikes - you never know if it’s safe to cross or if they’ll nip round from behind a lorry and run you over.

I do not trust cars - when so many roads meet at a junction its impossible to watch every car to see if it’s likely to run straight toward you.

I do not trust pedestrian crossings - with traffic coming from 5 different directions how do I know that its got it right?

I do not trust that the guy reading a book as he walks down the road (just like Belle from Beauty and the Beast) will not walk into me.

All in all, if you aim to reach work without being run over there are many things to avoid and look out for (but don't worry mum, just in case I do get run over I make sure that my underwear matches). And so ultimately  I don't trust my own judgements when it comes to crossing roads. It's a miracle that I don't spend the whole day walking round and round the block.

Back to School

So, this week I went back to school. But instead of having to remember my homework and P.E. kit I had to remember the names of 30 kids and the names of 2D shapes (how many sides does a hexagon have again?). Welcome to the life of a teaching assistant. 

So how has my first week been?

Educational.

I have learned that my reception teacher’s catch phrase of “Don’t knock me I’m not a door” is a completely valid phrase to use when working with children.

I have learned that despite being relatively well educated (or atleast I made it through The System with no major problems) I don’t actually know the basic rules of grammar. I can use (most of) them and I choose to ignore several, but I don’t actually know the rules – this is kind of a problem when you’re expected to help others learn them.

I have learned that its harder to remember the names  

I have learned that I need to listen when the teacher gives instructions. 

I have learned race is something 6 and 7 years old discuss, and one of the first questions they’ll ask you (just because one is not white does not mean that one is not English yeah).

I have learned that I need to seperate my wardrobe into clothes that are nice but not too nice for school (just incase some kid throws up on me – paranoid much? Not me)

I have learned that male primary school teachers are human too (who ever would have thought).

I have learned that teaching would be much easier with less children or more adults.

I have learned that I am in danger of turning into my mother sooner than I thought – my mother has been a teaching assistant for over ten years and I'm finding myself using some of her favourite phrases.

I have learned that you should never judge a job by your first day.

I have learned that I need to find where I left my angry voice (somewhere in 2008 I think).

I have learned that I never want to be a teacher. If I ever tell you I want to be a teacher please ask for the real Rachel to please stand up because I have clearly been abducted and replaced by my stepford wife replacement.

As you can see – it’s been educational.

Am I looking forward to next week? I’ll let you know Sunday evening.

C. S. Lewis - What A Ledge

So, I have one of those C. S. Lewis Quote apps on my ipod. The man was a Ledge (even if you take Narnia out of the equation). He had something to say about everything. Not all of it I agree with but here are a few thoughts to mull over:

The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own,’ or ‘real’ life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life – the life God is sending one day by day.

Critics who treat ‘adult’ as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence  And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even early manhood this concern about being adult is really a mark of arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly, when I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.

In those days a boy on the classical side officially did almost nothing but classics. I think this was wise; the greatest service we can do to education today is to teach a few subjects. No on e has time to do more than a very few things well before he is twenty, and when we force a boy to be a mediocrity in a dozen subjects we destroy his standards, perhaps for life.

It is not your business to succeed, but to do right. When you have done so, the rest lies with God. 

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no-one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness, but in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

Comparison & Jehovah Jireh

Comparison is a deadly thing.

And it’s becoming a problem.

A lot of my friends are entering into their third year of post-university employment. They’re climbing up the career ladder, becoming more confident in what they do/realising that this isn’t the career for them, getting more experience and getting paid more.

They don’t think twice about going to visit friends at the weekend (train fare + dinner out + night out + extras). Quite a few are living at home and not having to pay exorbitant rent (rent + bills + council tax). They seem to be going on exotic holidays every five minutes (air fare + hotels + food + transport + extras). They’re saving enough to be able to buy their own place in a few years (I don’t even know what this entails because it’s so far from my reality). They don’t spend time staring at the figures on their budget spreadsheet willingly them to somehow re-arrange themselves so that there's more left after the standard outgoings. They don’t have to make the lame but painfully true excuse of “ I'm sorry but I really can’t afford it.” They don’t have to swallow their pride and accept other people paying for them.

Comparison is a deadly thing.

I might sound bitter but I do not begrudge my friends their lifestyles. They made choices that have put them where they are today. As have I. 

I am about to start my first full-time salaried job. Praise Jesus! I am super excited about the job and super excited to actually be earning proper money (as is my Dad). But without carefully sticking to budget it won't work.

Sometimes I feel like Rachel, Joey and Phoebe in that episode of Friends where they try to explain to the others that they can’t afford all the expensive dinners and birthday celebrations. And I get that same blank look with a slight hint of disbelief. 

And on the days when I see what I don't have I struggle to remember that money is not the foundation of security. 

I struggle to remember that life is not about having a ‘good’ job, nice house and a couple of nice holidays a year.

I struggle to remember that in comparison to the 82% of the world who don’t have a bank account I am materially rich. In comparison to the families in Tower Hamlets struggling to provide enough food for their families I am materially rich.

I struggle to remember that the treasure of this earth can be destroyed but the treasure of heaven is eternal.

And I struggle to remember that I serve Jehovah Jireh - the God who sees, the God who provides and the God who will provide.

Comparison is a deadly thing.

Her phone is newer than mine. His hair is better than mine. She has a bigger house than me. He had a more expensive holiday than me. They have a nicer family than me. She's smarter than me. She has more money then me. He has better friends than me. His job is better then mine. Her car is nicer than mine. Their life is better than mine.

Comparison is a deadly thing. It steals peace, joy, contentment and life. It is based on the lie that if you had all those things you would be happier. 

I am thankful that through my struggles Jehovah Jireh, the God who sees, is with me. 

I am thankful that the God who sees reminds me that my worth is not based on my bank balance, savings account or perceived success of this world. 

I am thankful that the God who provides reminds of His provision over the last 12 months. 

I am thankful that Jehovah Jireh  reminds me that I should place my trust in Him, the God who sees all, the God who provides all, and the God who will provide. 

                                      

Hope

I’ve been thinking a lot about hope lately.

These three things will remain: faith, hope and love – and the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13 v 13 

I don’t think I’ve ever really full-on hoped for something with every fibre of my being. Sure there’s been things that I’ve wanted, but I’ve always known I would be ok if I didn’t get them.

So I've never completely understood why hope was in there.

Until recently.

A youth-worker friend was telling me about the hopelessness of some of the youth she works with: “They don’t know what they want to do in the future, they have no plans, no hope in doing anything other than live off benefits.”

Another friend who works for a small charity said similar things about some of the clients she sees: “Some of our clients have no intention of doing anything to change their circumstances, they have no hope that anything they do will change their situation.”

hope·less

adj \ˈhō-pləs\

Definition of HOPELESS

a : having no expectation of good or success : despairingb : not susceptible to remedy or curec : incapable of redemption or improvement

2

a : giving no ground for hope : desperateb : incapable of solution, management, or accomplishment :impossible

— hope·less·ness noun

There are many people with no hope that their situation will change. No hope that they can change their situation. They are hopeless.

Hope is what keeps us going in the toughest of situations - hope that it can and will get better.

Hope is what motivates us to try and change our situation - hope that we can do it.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life – Proverbs 13 v 12

But hope is what so many people are lacking. 

So in order to serve those who find themselves in need, whether spiritually, emotionally or physically, maybe what we need to do is reinvigorate hope.

How do we do this? Answers on a postcard please.

Off to University?

So you’re about to depart the comfy confines of your mother’s house (with the never empty fridge and the Laundry Fairy that cleans your clothes for you) to fend for yourself in the strange world of university life. Here are my words of wisdom for those of you embarking on this historic journey:

1. Be  Social. Do you want to have no friends? Do you want to spend all your free time sitting in your room by yourself staring at a wall? I’m hoping the answer is no – so get out and meet people. Sure, you’re bound to meet some people you never want to hang out with again (always make sure you have a tenner and number for a local registered cab firm in case you want to make an early exit). But you’re also bound to meet some friends for life – shout out to my uni homegirls!  

2. Get used to answering the following questions: name, home town, course, halls. The proactive among you may want to get this printed on a business card to avoid having to repeat it a hundred times a day.

3. Find other people who love Jesus. When university life tests your faith and your boundaries it’s good to have other people facing the same pressures alongside you. Your Christian Union will most likely have a few events during freshers week – so go to them. University is often a make or break point for many. Find your CU here.

4. Find a church. So important I should have put it first. The first few weeks of term churches quite often put on a student lunch – meet with other Christians and free food - ForTheWin!

5. Get to know the people you live with.

6. Work out a budget and stick to it. No-one wants to eat nothing but beans and toast for the last few weeks of term because you bought a new pair of boots or a couple of computer games when your loan came it. Check out this article for some budgeting advice.

7. Be generous – share without expecting anything in return.

8. Join a few random clubs and societies. They often have free trials the first week. Pick a couple of things you’re interested in and something random that you’ve always wanted to try but never have. Join the first week is often free so take the opportunity to try out something different.

9. Decorate your room. At least stick a couple of posters up. Makes it much more homely and less clinical.

10. Eat properly. Laziness is not an excuse for eating pasta and pizza everyday. Add a few vegetables to your meals. Eat some fruit. You’ll feel physically better for it. Buy a student cook-book or check here for some easy recipes. Can't decide what to cook? Check this website for help deciding. 

11.   Contact your parents every once in a while – they want to know if you’re still alive.

12.  Study. Believe it or not you are primarily there to study. Don’t fall for the lie that university is all about staying up late, drinking too much, getting up late and missing lectures. You are there to study. Make it a priority.

13. Don't forget that through all the ups and downs of uni life God is with you.  He will never leave you. 

How to Solve the Problem of the Dealers at Your Door?

So I wouldn't say I live in the 'hood exactly. I wouldn't say that I lived in a dodgy area. And if you knew how much our rent was you'd probably think that we lived in a 'gated-community' with a butler, en suite rooms, private gym, walk in wardrobes a la Princess Diaries (a girl can dream), roof-top garden, actual garden, and view of the Thames/Buckingham Palace/Eiffel Tower.

But we don't. 

What we do have is a bunch (gang?) of guys who like to hang around in the courtyard  between the building where I live and the one opposite - and they do lower the tone rather. Here's us trendy hipsters trying (well not really trying because that wouldn't be ironic) to raise standards to oversized glasses frames, good coffee and creative alternatives but our efforts seem to be in vain - they do not care for such things. *sigh*

One or two will usually surface around lunchtime and by 8/9pm there's at least ten guys smoking, eating chicken, dropping litter and riding around on Boris Bikes until the early hours of the morning. I'm not sure of half of what they do, but the half I am sure of fo' sure ain't legal. Sometimes leaving the flat or coming home can be stressful when you know that you might have to walk past them, which is kinda ridiculous because they rarely say anything to you. And sometimes they do share useful security facts about how they watched some guy stealing bikes from the building - but didn't bother to stop him. 

Whether I like it or not they are part of my community. They are literally on my doorstep, quite often blocking the way to the door - but when they realise you want to get into the building they generally move out the way without you even having to ask - see, they're nice boys really I'm sure. 

Which poses the question of how to solve the problem of the dealers at your door? We've (flatmates and I) been wondering about this alot lately. Do we:

A. Ignore them? Fix your eyes on the floor/anywhere but them and purposefully walk past as if they're not there? Which is just ridiculous because it's obvious that you've seen them. 

B. Befriend them? I'm not even sure if this is possible.

C. Report them? The Police come every now and again, sometimes they search them and other times they don't. Not gonna lie - it can actually be quite entertaining, especially when they start complaining to the police about other people who 'lower the tone' but other times it's hard to watch.

D. Make them a cake - my standard solution to everything

E. Other. Suggestions on a postcard please.

So far we've gone for a mixture or A and B, depending on how brave we're feeling and how much weed we can smell. Not gonna lie I mostly go for A - ignore them. But braver flatmates than me have got them to carry heavy suitcases of groceries up two flights of stairs to the flat. And another one has had a long enough chat to discover that one of them really loves his girlfriend and would do anything for her but because their families are from different countries no-one wants them to be together or get married - you see, I'm sure they're nice boys really.

Apart from the noise they don't give us much trouble (although remind me to tell you about the Great Litter and Chicken Wing Debates) but it would be nice if any guest who arrives or leaves after 7pm didn't have to pass some Iron-man Bravery Contest just to get to our door.

Any ideas?

All Sons & Daughters

LOVING All Sons & Daughters right now.

In particular:

My life is yours 

My hope is in you only 

My heart you hold

‘Cause You made this sinner holy 

Holy, holy 

Your glory is so beautiful 

I fall onto my knees in awe

And the heartbeat of my life 

Is to worship in your light 

‘Cause Your glory is so beautiful 

Your glory is so beautiful 

The heartbeat of my life is to worship in your light.

London 2012

I am loving the Olympics right now.

Loving the drama. Loving how London’s transport system seems to be holding up and loving the nice shiny bling that Team GB seem to be rapidly collecting. Who knew that we could actually win stuff?! Look at our recent contenders: men's football in Euro 2012 - we never seem to win at football; Andy Murray at Wimbledon – please, as if his gruff British self could match up the effortless Swiss elegance of Rog. But maybe today is his day. Go Team GB!

But I’ve just discovered that we Brits have a history of being good at rowing and cycling. I thought Steve Redgrave and Chris Hoy were one-off freak successes - apparently not (I'd never heard of Bradley Wiggins before he won the Tour de France but rumour has it that he's actually won quite a few Olympic golds). I've also discovered that we finished fourth in the Beijing medal table – and given that the top two were China and the USA who we could never match, that’s not too bad.

I must admit that during the Olympics I suddenly start claiming my Jamaican heritage. Not that I'm a glory hunter and love a celebration or anything. I hear there's gonna be some good 50 years of independence parties too. Go Jamaica!

I think it was the 2000 Sydney Olympics that made me an Olympics fan. When else can you watch swimming, fencing, handball, hockey, tennis, football, shooting, archery, gymnastics, weightlifting, rowing, cycling  and a million more sports all in the space of a couple of hours and all from the comfort of your own home? Five Points the BBC for putting it all online. The Olympics is pretty much the one time every four years that I actually care about sport.

I am loving seeing the shades of Wimbledon polluted with colour, life and music. Some of the AELTC members are probably crying themselves to sleep.

I also love that on the one year anniversary of the start of the riots we had the best night in British Athletics. Five points to Jessica Ennis, Greg Rutherford and Mo Farah for giving us a night to be proud of.  (Although why I’m proud of complete strangers just because they happen to be the same nationality as me is a mystery).

One thing I'm not loving - how Will & Kate managed to get tickets for everything. What was that? Did someone say rigged ballot? Surely not.

All in all I’m loving London 2012. Team GB for the win!

The Past Few Weeks

So, I haven’t had my life sorted enough lately to find enough time to write anything. So here is a brief insight into the past few weeks:

I have achieved one of my lifelong dreams of becoming a Pirate! Not one of those super scary ones that like to kidnap people off the coast of Somali (but as my Nan says, “What are they doing sailing in pirate water in the first place?”). But one of those old skool pirates with peg legs and eye-patches that liked to kidnap people, and I’m sure you’ll all agree that they’re much friendlier. Anyways, I am volunteering with the Hackney Pirates, an “innovative education project developing literacy and creativity in young people, by giving them one to one attention in an unconventional learning environment” (click here for more info). We spend the first half of the session helping the kids with their homework and the second half on a creative project which then gets sold to raise funds. The kids have recently finished writing and recording some spoken word poems and are now writing dramatic monologues. Being a pirate is fun.

I have also become a Climber - of sorts. Wilma (roommate) and I completed a three week climbing course at the local climbing centre. Despite almost falling off the wall (and consequently to my death) when stuck four meters up one of the climbing walls it was a lot of fun. You should climb too. 

You should also read Peter Pan. I read it for the first time a couple of weeks ago. Genius. 

I also read Anne of Green Gables for the first time in years (I'm developing a slight habit of making regular trips to Oxfam Books – but surely a habit that benefits other people isn't really that bad). Most Romantic Gesture ever = Gilbert Blythe giving his job to Anne so that she can stay in Avonlea and look after Marilla. Next up on the Oxfam Books reading list is The School at the Chalet (that I now own two copies of - give me a shout if you want one). So I'll be spending the next few days dreaming of quitting my job and starting a boarding school in Austria. Speaking of work...

I have been to Salisbury, home of the Trussell Trust HQ, quite a lot lately. One of the trips was for a Trussell Trust Team Day, where all the staff from different departments came together to meet each other and talk about how things were going. In the last couple of years the Trussell Trust has grown so so much and they really are doing some amazing things (click here to find out more about the children's camps in Bulgaria). It was a great day but it made me sad that I’ll be leaving in September and will no longer be a part of such an inspirational team.*

One of the side-effects of my job has been that I've learned all the tube lines by colour. And now I've discovered another side effect - I can name and locate all the London boroughs, which you have to admit is quite a good life skill to have. You never know when you'll need to distinguish Havering from Hounslow, Bromley from Brent or  Camden from Croydon. You may laugh now but these places are at opposite ends of the city and I'll get the last laugh when you take the wrong turning and end up in Redbridge instead of Richmond. 

I have recently discovered that one of the side-effects of living in Shoreditch is that I am becoming fearless about what I wear. As one of my flatmates put it, “You live in Shoreditch, you can wear whatever you like!” Totally claiming that one! As part of this boldness I have decided to embrace my naturally out of control curly hair and stop straightening it. My beloved GHDs have been put away. Apologies in advance if you have to be seen with me and my hair looks like this:

However if I am wearing my amazingly beautiful new shoes you might not mind the state of my hair so much.  I bought new shoes yesterday. Black five and half inch platform court wedges. They are Beautiful and I LOVE them. I will probably break my neck, but  it's a small price to pay for such beautiful shoes (I am more of a girl than I care to admit). Paolo Nutini was so right.

And now that I own the most beautiful shoes ever, top of my wish list is this set of cake tins:

Combining two of my favourite things: London and Cake (just in case you’re feeling generous here's the link: http://www.lakeland.co.uk/43167/My-London-Cake-Tin-Duo, I can send you my address. I'll even bake you a cake). London really is the best city in the world. I love it. How often can you join city workers eating their lunch while watching some old folks take part in an open air tea dance with a brass band? (Spitalfield’s market y’all). However not all of London is so pretty or fun but I'll write about that later because I doubt anyone will read this far. Five points to you if you're still with me.

So there we go, a random collection of things.

*(don’t ask me what I’ll be doing yet because I simply don’t know – but it will probably involve living in East London because lets face it – outside of Croydon why would you want to live anywhere else?)

I Will Not Take My Love Away

This has been going round and round and round and round my head all day.

During breakfast, work, prayer meeting and everything in-between I could not escape it.

Maybe I still need to hear it.

Maybe you need to hear it.

Maybe we both need to understand it better.

I will not take my love away

When praises cease and seasons change

While the whole world turns the other way

I will not take my love away

I will not leave you all alone

When striving leads you far from home

And there's no yield for what you've sown

I will not leave you all alone

I will give you what you need

In plenty or in poverty

Forever, always, look to me

And I will give you what you need 

Rhythm

So What's Next?

So you’re wondering what’s next, what do to with your life. Join the club. This has been my most FAQ for the past couple of years. When I was in New Zealand we had many many conversations about calling and identity. We had one speaker tell us that we should pray like crazy and not do anything unless God tells us to do it. Another said that we’re not idiots and God knows this so we should figure it out ourselves. I was totally (to use an old skool phrase) confused-dot-com.

And since then it hasn’t gotten that much better. Over the past couple of years I have received a lot of advice on future plans and what I should be focusing on. Some of it has been really helpful and some of it not so much – one friend told me that I should “do something irrational. Have a family.” Thanks. Good Plan. That would solve all my problems right now. And I've even had that awkward conversation of “God told me you should train to be a missionary and then come and join me on the mission field in Asia. Just kidding. But not really. Just kidding. Hahahaha.” Excellent. Ha. Ha. Ha. I just threw up from laughing so much at the hilariousness of that comment, you should really consider becoming a stand up comedian.

Talk about first world problem – too many options and don’t know what to do.

Here is a collection of advice and thoughts and bits of conversations I've has over the past couple of years on how to figure out what's next:

The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind...Love your neighbour as yourself. Matthew 22 v 37-39

0 to 25 - Try everything but sin (rock climb, play sport, study arts, study science, write a book).

25 to 30 - Focus on ten things.

30 to 40 - Do two things really well.

40 onwards - Mentor and invest.

So do not worry about having enough food or drink or clothing...Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs, and He will give you all you need from day to day if you live for Him and make the Kingdom of God your primary concern. Matthew 6 v 31-33

God’s will is all over scripture, we know what He wants so why do we keep asking what His will is? Why don’t we instead try and figure out how we, in the fullness of how we've been made, play a part in it? 

How do you want to be living? What are the values and rhythms you want to be living out?

I think we assume that everyone knows what they want to do. It’s much closer to the truth to say that most of us somehow fall into the jobs we have. And only half of those people end up doing something that they like, and only half of those people do something that they love.

We’re not really given space to wander. Some people try out a number of different career paths before they find one they’re comfortable with. But we frown on this and say that they’re flaky. When maybe they’re the ones brave enough to try new things in search of what they enjoy. 

We’ll probs be working till we drop dead on the job, so do something you enjoy. If it takes ten years of wandering to get there then don’t sweat it, you still have another million years until retirement/dropping dead. So don’t be afraid of wandering, but do be intentional. 

God-given gifts + acquired skills + developed passions = vocation because of and for the sake of community.

Who do you know? Who do you enjoy working with? Who inspires you? What work environment suits you best?

What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?

Maybe there’s not one perfect career for you. There could be several different things that you could really enjoy doing and that you could thrive in. So there’s not necessarily one right option. So don’t worry about making the wrong wrong choice.

Go to New Zealand.

Maybe God cares about who we are becoming more than what we are specifically doing 

Don’t forget to b r e a t h e.

  

I have been all over the place with this. I’ve had days when I’ve been super excited about the future, days when I’ve been so stressed I couldn’t do anything but try to run from my own thoughts (well, more kind of like baking than actually running) and then there’s been the days when I’ve not thought about it so it’s been fine.

The most important thing I have learned about this is that God is there no matter what. Whether I come up with a five year plan in the next week, or whether it takes one/two/five/ten years, God will be there no matter what I end up doing. He does not change. I can count on His character and His promises no matter where I am or what I am doing. And at the end of the day, I’m only visiting this planet.

"And be sure of this: I am with you always, even until the end of the age" 

Matthew 28 v 20

The Generosity of Millwall Fans

So last Saturday I spent a few hours hanging around one of the entrances to the Millwall football ground trying to persuade everyone who went by to donate some money to the Trussell Trust. Yeah, at Millwall – the team with the reputation for having the nicest fans in the country.

Why was I there? Good Question (those mind reading psych lectures have really paid off) and one I asked myself several times over the course of the day. This crazy/amazing lady called Alex was doing a 24 hour run in order to raise money for the Trussell Trust foodbank network.

Yes, 24 hours of non-stop running.

I don’t understand how it works either. I can barely stay awake for 24 hours let alone run at the same time. Like I said, crazy/amazing. She started on the track at the Crystal Palace Sports Centre on Friday afternoon and then kept running till she lapped the pitch during half-time of the Millwall game. You can still donate: http://www.justgiving.com/AlexFoodbank24hour.

So there I was, bucket in hand, fake smiling so much I felt like Barbie and getting sick of hearing myself say “We’re collecting for the foodbank network” when I was reminded of the vast spectrum of generosity (I usually get this epiphany during supermarket collections).

At one end you have those who ignore you as they walk past muttering something about 'charity muggers' (Hello! I am right next to you! I'm not deaf so say it to my face!), and at the other end you have those who donate notes rather than coins without you even having to ask. In-between you get those who give you two coppers from their fist full of change and those who dig around in their pockets for five minutes and give a few pounds. And then there’s those who ask where the money goes and give their stamp of approval that it’s to help people in the UK. I’m not wanting to judge people’s generosity (I have been several of these people), what they do with their money is between them and God, but I was just reminded of how different we are.

My favourite moment of the day was when a kid, around 6 years old, pulled on his Dad’s sleeve asking for money to give. I doubt he had any idea what I was collecting for, but something in him wanted to give money away. Maybe because he doesn't have any money of his own, giving away his Dad's money is an easy thing to do (hmmm, I think there's a lesson here). It was totally worth standing in the freezing cold and being called "flower" and "love" by scary Millwall fans more times than I can count  just to see that kid make his Dad stop and search for some money. O the things you can learn from children...

What do you want to see?

Today was the church AGM (social highlight of the year obvs). Maybe not the easiest of things of follow (accounts completely baffle me) but important all the same. During the Q & A section a friend turned to me and said “What do you want to see Rach?”

I gave my standard answer when my head is empty but full of wondering what exactly the implications are of  the restricted and unrestricted funds section of the accounts – “Good question. I’m not sure, haven't thought about it that much.” Which to be honest isn't the whole truth. I know what I want to see in the Church as a whole, but I’d never really thought about what I wanted to see in my local church. 

Which is kinda lazy and crazy (check tha’ rhymes) given that one of the reasons I chose to attend St Peter’s was because I believe in the vision of the church. But I guess part of that was me signing on to someone else’s vision. Which is strange because I have a million and five opinions on what I think the Church should look like, and yes, some of these opinions definitely contradict (keeping track of a million and five opinions is hard work).

So what do I want to see?

It’s simple really - Love. 

I want to see a community of people who Love.

Love God, love each other & love those in our community.

Love that is patient and kind. Love that is not jealous, or boastful or proud or rude. Love that does not demand its own way. Love that is not irritable or counts when it has been wronged. Love that rejoices in truth and justice. Love that never gives up or loses faith. Love that endures through every circumstance.  

An all encompassing love that is good news to the poor, comforts the broken hearted and sets captives free. 

I want to see a people who give freely, serve joyfully and worship faithfully.

A family where all are welcomed and no-one is left out. 

A family who rejoices with you in times of celebration. 

A family who helps carry you when you’re in a valley and all is dark.

A family who is right beside you through all seasons of life.

In other words I want to see a church that looks more like Jesus and less like the rest of us. 

So the challenge to myself is am I one of those people? Am I contributing to the Church I want to see?

Not always.

But the great thing is that there’s always an opportunity to start.

Shoutout to one of the YWAM crew for the photo.

For the Struggling Creative Types...

Prosperity Brownies

A couple of weeks ago I went to visit a friend in Hove and as we wandered into Brighton we happened up a few stalls taking part in the Food Festival. For some reason unknown/bad planning, all the stalls were selling food and 8 out the 10 stalls were selling cake, of which there were many free samples! So I put aside all my concerns of people touching what I was about to eat with their filthy filthy hands and embraced the free samples. Of which there were many brownies. 

And so in typical browser style we tried all the samples, didn’t buy anything and went about our business. But on the way back I couldn't resist the temptation to get something. I could hear the brownies calling my name, and it would have been rude to ignore them.

But then I faced the ultimate question – which brownie was best?!

We decided (obviously this was too important a decision to make by myself) that rather than re-try all the brownies we would just go with whatever one we remembered as being the best. Fortunately we both decided that the first stall we had gone to was the proud owner of the Rachel & Fabienne 2012 Best Brownie Award (I don’t know what we would have done if we had disagreed, probs hold a street bake-off or something – highly illegal I know but do you have a better idea?!).

So we wondered over to the first stall where all the brownies were neatly packaged in cute little cardboard boxes. To be honest the quest almost failed at this point – “brownies packaged in boxes?!” I thought, “they must be made in a factory and pumped full of more preservatives than the Duke of Edinburgh.” But I was wrong (for a change), the stall proudly held a sign proclaiming that all the ingredients were kitchen cupboard ingredients (you never know what people keep in their kitchen cupboards though).

“Prosperity Brownies”. Bit of an odd name I thought, must be some kind of play on prosperity gospel. It wasn’t until later when about to partake of said brownie that I read the cute little box and the explanation on it:

“Whilst prosperity brownies is about baking beautiful brownies, our chocolate heart is committed to the prosperity of underprivileged kids. 10% of all our peofits are donated to children’s charities, Viva and global compassion. These two wonderful organisations are dedicated to helping children at risk around the world.”

A quick read of the website reveals that Prosperity Brownies was started by a woman who had a great recipe for brownies and a desire to make a difference to others. Prosperity Brownies was born. 

Not only a great brownie but also committed to helping others! Cake with a conscience. LOVE IT!

Check www.propseritybrownies.com for more info.

How Tearfund cured me of wanting an iphone but got me to join twitter

So a couple of weeks ago I spent the day down at Tearfund HQ in deepest darkest South West London (Teddington) with the Tearfund communications team and a bunch of other people who love Jesus and write and blog and draw things.

It was a really interesting day despite a bad start (getting up late, running for the train, getting off two stops too early, waiting half an hour for the next train and then walking in the completely wrong direction from the train station – a good sense of direction is not my spiritual gift).

We spent the day talking with various Tearfund staff about their work and about digital communication. To which I concluded:

1.   Tearfund are doing a great job
2.   I should probs join twitter (follow me @rachsherlyh)

One of the things I learned was that Tearfund is all about resourcing the local church. The majority of their work is carried out in conjunction with local partners and churches. As someone who works for a charity that resources churches to start and run foodbanks, and as someone who believes that local community is more important and powerful than we realise, quite why I have never thought about church and community and international development is beyond me. But now that I have thought about it, I realise it's probs the way forward.

So for the last few months I’ve been saying that I need to get a new phone (the one I have is slowly falling apart) but haven’t been able to work out what phone I wanted, until recently...

It seems like everyone has an iphone. Everywhere I go I see people elegantly and silently typing out text messages on their touch screen while I’m still having to press the ‘9’ key four times just to write the letter z, and don’t get me started on having to be patient when using a word with too many m, n or o’s in it (first world problem or what?!). “There’s an App for that” is a phrase I’m beginning to hear all too often. It began to seem that all my problems would be fixed if I had an iphone. Now, I’ve never been concerned about having the latest technology (I got an ipod for Christmas a few years ago and had to be told what it was) and tend to avoid anything with a ridiculous amount of buttons or settings, but for some reason I decided that an iphone was the way to go.

So over lunch at Tearfund we were chatting about various things when the conversation landed on technology. I tried to keep up, I really did, but I didn’t understand half of what was said. My confusion must have been obvious because one of the guys turned to me and asked if I was a techie (I presumed he meant was I into technology not was I a Star Trek fan – but maybe that’s trekkie instead? Anyone know?). To which I replied “No, I only use what I have to and avoid the rest.” 

And just like that I realised that I didn’t need an iphone. I think I had begun to believe the lie that because nearly everyone (it seems) has one I probably needed one too or that it would make my life easier (because my life is so hard as it is!). And that realisation completely cured me of wanting an iphone. I am now content to use my current phone until it completely gives up on me. Thank you Tearfund. 

Community is... a choice

I've been asked quite a lot lately about what living ‘as a community’ actually means. My father thinks I live in a commune – I’m not that much of a hippy just yet (but I have started wearing more tye-dye clothes whenever I go home, just to freak him out a bit you know).

Each week living as a community means something different.

Last week was definitely about choices & being intentional.

Sometimes it’s just carrying out decisions that you’ve already made as a group:

• Choosing to share incomes and contribute to living expenses on the basis of what you earn and can afford
• Choosing to buy food as a household and cook together (one simple rule avoids confusion and the crushing disappointment of opening the fridge to discover the food you were dreaming about all day has gone - if you wan’ it then you gotta put ya name on it)

Or decisions that you need to make together:

• Choosing to spend time together (you know your lives have gotten too busy when you have to schedule 8am breakfast meetings with your flatmates so that you can all get your diaries out and book in time to spend together over the next two months)
• Choosing to pray with each other
• Choosing to pray for each other
• Choosing whether or nor to invest in a tumble drier ( with four girls a tumble drier is definitely for the win!)

And then there are the daily decisions:

• Choosing to not throw a book/table/chair at you roommate when she sings that one line from that really annoying song for the millionth time that day
• Choosing not to throw your roommate out the window when she tries to have a conversation with you before you've had breakfast, even though she knows you can’t deal with it (for those of you wondering - I had breakfast half an hour before our breakfast meeting)
• Choosing to forgive your flatmates when they don’t even realise you feel wronged
• Choosing to say sorry when you don’t understand what you did wrong/knowingly did something wrong
• Choosing to invite people into your home when you really need a night off to watch Gypsy Weddings
• Choosing to clean more often than you think necessary because you know that in the same way you can't deal with mornings, your flatmate can't deal with mess
• Choosing to share your burdens with others and help others carry theirs'
• Choosing to sing along to Bryan Adams at the top of your voice while you cook dinner with your flatmate (Bryan Adams – For shame! Minus 5 points to Rachel)

But then there are the days when the sun is shining, life is perfect (enough) and the harder choices, that require more courage and greater love, are o so easy to make. 

And then community is less about making choices and more about just living your life, with maybe a bit more grace and depth and love then you might otherwise have done. 

Decisions Decisions

So I’m standing in my most favourite stationary store of them all (Paperchase of course), a notebook in each hand trying to decide between the two products.

In my right hand I have the Hippy Central notebook – made from recycled paper and using vegetable based inks only (although maybe a real hippy would make one out of dead leaves they found in the street instead of buying one).

In my left hand I have the notebook version of a banker – straight lines, white paper and the ink is probably made out of baby panda spleen. Not a hint of anything recycled or environmentally friendly in sight.

The hippy notebook has 100 less pages than the banker notebook. The hippy notebook has yellower (is that even a word?) pages than then banker notebook. The hippy notebook doesn’t have a spiral spine or perforated pages. But the hippy notebook costs £2.50 more than the banker notebook.

Decisions decisions.

Do I stick to my principles of trying to be environmentally friendly but pay more for a slightly lesser product? Or do I sell out and get the product that is more functional and cheaper but more damaging to the environment?

Am I willing to act on what I claim to believe even when there is a cost?

This is a question I face more than I would like.

Last week I was walking through H&M in the Eastfield Temple (the Westfield in East London – get to know!) acutely aware that most of their clothes sport labels proclaiming ‘Made in Bangladesh’ or ‘Made in Vietnam.’

Now I don’t know for sure that the workers who had to sew these labels in were being exploited but my guess is that it’s more likely than not. So what do I do? Do I buy the cheaper clothes that make a profit from someone else’s misery? Or do I save up and only get fair-trade stuff from somewhere like People Tree?

Am I willing to act on what I claim to believe even when there is a cost?

Are you willing to act on what you believe even when there is a cost?

I am pleased to say that I put the banker notebook back on the shelf and proudly took my Little Hippy Notebook to the till.

But I did get the clothes from H&M (birthday present for my brother. He will almost certainly take them back though. It’s the thought that counts right?).