Third on the right!

Can't believe it's been so long! Where is the year going?!

Looking at the title, some who know me might think this is about my well renowned sense of direction - or lack of! But no, not this time!

Some reading this will know that during last week I got my singing voice back - more of that another time - but you won't know about the 'third on the right'

First day at the New Wine Ireland conference last week I bashed my toe badly in the bathroom and it turned a very dramatic shade of black. With my 'spongey' bones history, I even wondered if it was broken. I hobbled on and it certainly didn't hold me back.

Then at the same session where someone prayed for my voice, another person said they wanted to pray with someone who had a damaged foot - yes, you go it - 3rd toe on the right foot! My black toe!

Now I know for some this sounds nuts. It even makes me laugh. The thing with my voice kind of took over and I forgot about the tootsies. I have to admit the bruising vanished quite quickly with no broken bones.

I pray for healing for quite a few people and not many, I have to admit, are healed as we would like. My tiny toe would be well bottom of even my list of priorities. I certainly don't understand all there is to know about healing God's way. I know he heals but I also know that things don't always work out as we would like - but I do know that God knows.

As I listened to words that certainly described very accurately a couple of things wrong with me, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that God knew and God cared - whether it was about my quite serious voice problem - more of that again! - or the tiny '3rd on the right' toe!

When I was telling someone about my voice returning, I was describing that the first sense I had from God was him saying 'I know' and that was such a reassuring feeling that it would have been enough.

Whatever is going on; whatever happens in our lives, God knows. Whatever lies ahead God knows and is in control. God knows.

A New leaf

Among all the New Year messages drifting about I read this - 'Today is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one!'

I keep diaries on and off and was thinking that this year I'll give it a go again. This comes from the 'fun' I've had reading bits from diaries from the past - part of another big clear out! I've also done photo a day stuff once or twice - also great fun to look back on.

Of course if you keep either of the above honestly, there will be a mix of things there - really happy, joyous moments along with sad times and difficult spells. But it's all you, and actually looking back and seeing it all there, in black and white as it were, helps put everything in perspective.

And now I have the challenge from the quote here - 'today is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one!' That is not so much about keeping a diary - it's more about living life well day by day - like writing a book with my life. As a Christian I believe God has my 2015 planned out. He's with me as I enter it, but at the same time ahead of me preparing the way. He 'knows the end from the beginning'. I also believe that my life is in some ways like a book, available for others to read and that what I 'say' by my life is important.

But just because I believe God has it all planned doesn't mean I simply sit back and enjoy or endure the ride - and knowing my life so far that should read 'roller-coaster ride'!  I am a very active participant in my story or book. Even with God at the helm (we seem to have moved from roller-coaster to boat!) I will have decisions to make along the way, directions to move in, choices to make. God 'directs our paths' He 'makes our ways plain' but he also gives us free will and leaves part of the writing of our 2015 story to us.

I have no idea what 2015 will bring. None of us does. Apart from the things that will happen to me - way beyond my control - I'm sure I may well make some silly decisions, take some wrong roads and make some poor choices - but it will be my story and God will be there to forgive the mistakes and re-direct where necessary! 

I've always liked writing and I used to love really nice paper - the kind with a lovely faint watermark or pattern to it. As I open my 'Miriam 2015' blank book I like to think that each page is stamped with the presence of God, and that as I 'write' the latest adventures of me this year, I will be living my life to the full with and for Him.

Well, today's diary entry would be full of normal, ordinary things - bacon butty, grocery shopping, daft dogs, dafter bestie - but also a wonderful consciousness of God's presence on a day when I remember my dad and those last moments of his spent with me and his maker as He took him home one New Year's Day. Lots of smiles and laughs remembering him. And lots of hope for what's to come.

Happy Christmas!

My memories of childhood Christmases are good. 

It wasn't about the food. After catching my mum gutting the turkey one year both my brother and myself refused to eat turkey for the rest of our days at home! Best Christmas food memories involve chocolate - now there's a surprise!

It wasn't about presents. I did have some good ones. I absolutely loved the new set of colouring pencils I got each year. I remember being just a wee bit disappointed when what I thought was a red handbag turned out to be a nurse's kit. The disappointment didn't last long though when I realised how much fun I could have sticking needles into my guinea pig brother! And was I ever the red handbag sort of girl anyway?!

Christmas was all about Jesus. We didn't go to church at Christmas as kids. We were always taught that Christmas was about Jesus being born, but if I'm honest, he didn't figure hugely on the day itself.

But thinking about it now, I always knew he was there. I felt very unsafe during much of my childhood. I lived with a constant sense of danger and threat. But Christmas day was different. There was something inside that told me it was safe. Nothing bad was going to happen. I was safe.  Christmas Day was a happy day; it was fun with no sense of danger; it was safe. I can't explain why, but what I know is that when each Christmas comes my memories are happy, and I totally love the day.

Jesus came at Christmas and stayed. He can make the most amazing difference to a day - any day. And even if this Christmas is more than usually sad or dark or uncertain for you - Jesus is there.

So, Happy Christmas everyone. I don't think I'll be having colouring pencils - I hope not, Santa! Or a nurse's kit! But there is chocolate in the air! Happiness all round!

No room at the inn

'Thank you so much for the support you give us every time. My mother got the money for rent and we are so happy. They were almost throwing us outside but God is good'

'Thanks for the Rwf 90,000 you have given me. My landlord almost threw me out of the house'

Life for many in Rwanda is a daily struggle for food and shelter. Existence is often literally a hand to mouth existence and each day's activities are centered around finding food and keeping shelter.

We had a couple of letters just yesterday acknowledging some gifts we had given to cover rent for 2 families. I have to say a huge thank you to all of you who support us in any way, as the money for these rents came from money many of you, and many others, gave towards our last trip. 

Together we have made sure that for now at least these two families have kept a roof over their heads - and while we continue to pray that mums find work and can provide better for their families - we thank God that they have shelter today. 

But even more than shelter, we have given hope when it was almost gone. We have given a sense that someone is not alone. And a reminder to Tonia, who wrote the first letter above, that God is indeed good.

Both these letters seriously moved me. The first, maybe especially because it is written by a child - a little girl who shouldn't be going to bed at night, not sure whether or not she'll have a home next day.

The second is written by a mother of twins, and while no little girl should be worrying about having a home or not, it struck me how tough it must be for a mum not to be able to provide for her little girls. She goes on to say this - 'I am the single mother of twin girls. I am an orphan and I have no relatives. My girls are, you and your friends are the family that I have. I am jobless too, but I pray God helps me I find something to do that at least will provide my kids with food'

In case you hadn't noticed, it's Christmas, and the Christmas story tells us of another family seeking shelter and finding 'no room at the inn'. And this story is of the one who would later speak these words in Matthew 25 - 'I was hungry and you fed me; I was thirsty and you gave me a drink; I was homeless and you gave me a room'

Happy, blessed Christmas!

Lest we forget

November 11th was my dad's birthday. Had he lived he would have been 100 years old today. We have had lots of laughs remembering him, sharing stories and celebrating - not his birthday, but his life. Sally never knew my dad, but I'm sure she thinks she does and could tell all my stories as well as I can! For as long as I can remember, each year coming up to his birthday, he would say 'November 11th - lest we forget' As if we would forget - or be allowed to! As he grew older and was showing the first signs of dementia he had 'the interview' with a doctor. He asked the usual questions - name, year, name of the Prime Minister - and 'what is your date of birth Mr Hull?' It has to be confessed that he didn't do too well in this particular 'test', but to this last question he answered 'the 11th day of the 11th month - lest we forget'. It was to be the first time I had to smile at the first of many wacky, funny things my dad would say over the rest of his life.

Today has been a good day, doing little silly things that no one else would understand, that remind me of my dad. Of course I've shed a wee tear, but the laughter and fun have way outweighed the tears. I choose how I remember my childhood, which includes my dad. I choose to remember the happy times, the fun and the best moments. I could choose to remember differently, but then I'd have lost out. The memories would be purely bitter and I would be robbed of the little, silly things which never fail to bring a smile to my face - especially on a day like today. 

It's an amazing thing when you stop to think about it, but we have the power to choose in lots of circumstances of life. Through the Bible we're urged to 'choose life' and that is the major choice any of us will make. But as a result of making that choice we are then free to choose - forgiveness or bitterness - love or hate - imprisoned or free. Today I remember with love a dad who loved me and did the best he knew how to be a good dad. And today once more he brought a smile to my face.

Tonight's celebration of my dad involves chocolate - come on, you might have guessed! He wasn't a big lover of chocolate or sweets - how could he be my dad, I wonder?! But he loved Bounty bars and I bought them for him regularly - including a Bounty egg at Easter. So tonight - chocolate here I come Thank you dad - like I need an excuse for chocolate!

Light and dark

I saw a couple of little girls the other day playing with dolls and prams. When I was their age no one would have commented on that. It would not have been at all unusual. I clearly remember my dolls. I vaguely remember Belinda. I think she must have been my first doll, given to me by my grandfather. Sadly my memory of her is with a bashed in head!  I remember Elizabeth who lost her hair courtesy of my younger brother. If you had one of those - younger brother - you might know how it is! I remember Carol. She was a much later doll - and she could walk - kind of! And favourite of all, Glenys. She was named after a cousin. Where the other names came from I have no idea. But Glenys was special and I still have her. She's in bits at the moment, waiting for a trip to the doll hospital. In spite of all this talk of bashed heads and hairless dolls, I loved my dolls. I mothered them, was their nurse, doctor  and teacher, and walked them regularly in their prams. They became sadly neglected when our neighbour had a baby and then I had a real live 'doll' to take to the park. I used to knock on their door almost daily and ask to take the baby out. Nuisance or mummy's little helper? Who knows?!

There was something lovely about the little girls playing with dolls - in sharp contrast to the miniature witches and werewolves on the same streets at the same time. The contrast was as great as that between darkness and light. And it reminded me about how important it is to fill our children with good things - things of the light and not of the darkness. I'm conscious of being accused of pouring cold water on all the 'fun' of Hallowe'en. What harm is there after all in little children looking cute in witches' dresses and wizards' hats? All I can say is that year after year I see progressively more darkness about celebrations at this time of year. And we call it 'fun' - and even more troubling - 'normal'. 

And yes, this little doll loving girl thought that one day she'd be a mum. God's plan for me didn't include that. But I have had some amazing children in my life - and still do. And a while back, in Rwanda, guess what lots of them received from their mama - dolls! Giving away these little dolls, knitted for us by an older lady in a Residential Home, was a lovely experience. The look on the face of each child was truly priceless.

Little Girl Blue

I was looking at some photos the other day and discovered that in 4 of my school photos (yes, they did do them in my day!) I am wearing spotty frocks - 4 different ones. I don't remember liking spots - it's all down either to my mum, or to my grandmother who used to send me dresses for gifts. I imagine it was the latter. I vaguely remember some of them, especially the colour. More than one of them - maybe all 4 - were blue.

This year in Rwanda one of our 'hope visits' took us to a very poor home in a rural area where we've visited and worked before. This visit was a tough one. Materially the family were poor. There was almost nothing in the house and the surrounding area looked parched and bare. It was like not only was there no food for now, but little hope of anything anytime soon.

The conditions we found there were not unusual in some ways, but there was something else. Looking at the family, there was such a sense of hopelessness about them. The mother and father looked worn and tired. The older boy looked dark, tough, and even aggressive. When asked his age, the younger boy told us to ask his dad. None of the children had had any kind of education. There was almost a sense of it being too late. We'd got there too late. Of course I know that's not true, and we hope our little time there brought some of God's light and hope into a very dark place.

And then there was the little girl in blue. In the darkness - literally and

spiritually - of that home, there was Clementine. She is the third child in the house, and on the day we visited, stood out, dressed in a bright blue dress. This wee girl had tried to go to school; had been on and off; had been sent home because she hadn't the money. People often say to me that they couldn't deal with going to Africa or other such places because they would have to bring all the children home. I won't go into all the answers to that one just now, but in a way, I do bring children home. One I brought home this year was Clementine. I brought her story home because the little blue dress almost haunted me - in a good way - I couldn't forget her. 

We found Clementine a sponsor - in fact more people asked about sponsoring her than any other individual child. She'll now go to school. Her life has changed forever. And that will help her family's life change too. There is light where there was once darkness. There is hope and a future. And that's how it works - one by one; little by little.

I was often dressed in blue as a baby and then as a child - apparently I looked 'hideous' - my mum's word - in pink. And the jaundice and yellow dress combo didn't quite work either! All these years later one little 'girl blue' met another - and God did his stuff. Amazing!