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!

Skin deep?

We sometimes hear the phrase 'beauty is only skin deep' - often used to 'encourage' (or patronize?!) those of us who wouldn't call ourselves beauties; could never see ourselves doing the Miss World 'what would you wish for - world peace' thing! We're told that real beauty goes beyond skin deep; true beauty is what comes from inside and is so much more important.

Today I read this little phrase in the book of Luke - words spoken by John the Baptist - 'It's your life that must change, not your skin'. He's calling people to turn their lives around; change how they live; leave the past behind - or as Jesus would say later be 'born again'

It's an unusual little phrase - a different slant on John's usual 'Repent or else' message. He's talking about 'skins' because he's calling his hearers vipers or snakes. I suppose that makes the changing skin thing make sense.

Whatever - it made me think today. How much is the change Jesus makes in

our lives just skin deep? How easily satisfied are we with little changes or tweaks here and there? How content are we to enjoy all the surface stuff, but not let ourselves go 'over the top'? 

Recently I have seen lives profoundly changed by Jesus - real change going way beyond skin deep. Skin deep would in no way describe them. In fact, skin deep wouldn't have lasted. The surface make-over would have faded or been worn away by now. Deep change from within is clear in these lives. Nothing else would do. It is wonderful to see.

But I see other lives too. I hear all the right words; even see some of the right actions. Thinking of John's snake picture, I would see these lives as chameleons - they change according to circumstances. I've watched lizards in Africa change colour to blend in with surroundings - and I see people do the same thing. The change is skin deep.

I don't want to be a skin deep Christian - ever. I don't want to be a chameleon. I know the change Jesus made to my life began in my heart and I want that then to translate into who I am and how I behave on the outside. I don't want cosmetic, surface change simply because that doesn't last. And simply because Jesus wants and deserves more.

There's one more phrase while I'm at it - 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder'. Am I glad that my 'beholder' is my Jesus and I am beautiful!

Away with the birdies!

Today I listened to a song and watched a DVD clip of singer Glenn Campbell, who is presently in the advanced stages of Alzheimer's Disease. It was extremely poignant and very powerful. The whole project was a courageous venture for the whole family, laying bare how things are for those suffering, and those caught up in the Alzheimers' world.

Much of it rang so many bells with me, having seen both my mum and dad develop the disease. There is much talk about 'hidden' illnesses - those conditions not immediately obvious or visible - Depression or Fybromyalgia to mention two. Alzheimers has been a bit of a 'hidden' disease too for quite some time, perhaps in a slightly different way. 

The word 'dementia' has unhelpful connotations from the past when people were described as 'senile' or crazy - and were locked up in mental institutions. There was a sense of shame attached. Carers hid the problem, often suffering much behind closed doors, trying to shelter and protect the patient. Many still do, but things are slowly changing. There seems to be more help out there and more of a willingness to talk and share. Perhaps the stigma is on the run. 

One of the most cruel aspects of Alzheimers is the sense of loss suffered by family and friends. My dad used to 'see' things as part of his condition. He would see children in the house and little birds on the carpet. No amount of telling him or showing him would convince him he wasn't right. When life was

becoming very frustrating both for him and for those of us around him, we had a very helpful nurse who told us that these things were a very real part of my dad's new world. He could no longer live completely in our world, so we had to enter his. From then on we all saw the loveliest wee birds on the carpet! And many other very unusual things too as time went on!

But the hardest thing of all was 'losing' my dad. The day he looked at me and didn't know me - I'll never forget. It was painful and sad and would have been even more unbearable had dad not been happy most of the time in his world filled with lovely wee birds on the carpet. 

Glenn Cambell's last song is entitled 'I'm not gonna miss you'. Today it made me realise, after all this time, what I really missed. While happy when he was well and didn't seem to be suffering, I missed my dad; missed having a dad who was there but not there. And deep down somewhere I hurt then because I knew he didn't miss me. He didn't even know me.

I lost my dad a second time, a long time ago it seems, when he died. I celebrate the fact that he is now at peace - in yet another world with sights even more amazing than the loveliest birds on the carpet, with a Heavenly Father who has remembered him and will never forget me.

Out of the comfort zone

Our spell of good weather seems  to have come to an end - for now at least. As I was out this morning, all wrapped up in my winter coat, I couldn't help thinking that in spite of the rain, it was a nice feeling to be all snuggled up in a coat. If you're like me 'cosy' is a lovely word. For me it speaks of a glowing fire burning in the grate, warm jumper, slippers, hot chocolate and contented - even snoring - dogs!

And then, just as I slip into contented unconsciousness, I remember that I'm not meant to get too comfy - certainly not in my walk with God. I'm constantly told I need to move out of my comfort zone - not that I need told as I have often said the same to others! We move and work best in the UN-comfortable zone because that's where Jesus is. He's the one who had 'nowhere to lay his head'; no comfy fire, armchair and slippers. He was the one who walked the hot, dusty roads and went into those homes of awkward, embarrassed silences where no one knew quite what to say. He was the one who was despised by his enemies and deserted by his friends. He was the one tortured and beaten, and finally cruelly put to death. It doesn't come more uncomfortable than that.

And then there's that other side to the word 'comfort' that means to 'give strength to' and when I think of that, it all makes sense. When we step out of our comfortable places we often feel weak and vulnerable. They are places where we can't  always rely on the 'been there, done that' thing. The old and familiar have gone. Even the people we have come to rely on aren't there. And we don't feel like we can rely even on ourselves.

What better place to be?! In this place there is room for Jesus; a need of Jesus that sometimes gets lost. A dependence on him that was long gone. You want awakened out of the dull, daily routine that passes for life? Step out and join Jesus. You might have to leave the slippers - or whatever your particular 'comfort blanket' happens to be - but you'll never be more comfortable than in that place where Jesus is.

But beware - even what we think are the 'happening' places aren't. Our high risk, exciting, 'out of the comfort zone' places all too easily become new comfort zones full of people just like us - and we are so, so comfortable there.

#legend

A lot of people on my fb today seem quite starstruck. And once more the word 'legend' is being bandied about a fair bit. Every time I see #legend I wonder what the particular person has done to qualify as 'legend'. Or maybe it's nothing to do with what they've done - maybe it says more about the kind of person they are. It seems at times like someone can be 'legend' because they've brought you a nice timely coffee during a busy spell at work!

A dictionary tells me that a 'legend' can be so called because they are a celebrity, a star, a phenomenon, a 'big name', a megastar! My problem with this list is that our celebrities, stars etc. are often so short-lived; so 'here today, gone tomorrow'. So 'feet of clay'. Not what I would call 'legend'.

But the same dictionary also describes a legend as a 'wonder' - someone to be wondered at, amazed by or in awe of. Now I think that's more like it. I can remember being fascinated by old myths and legends; heroic tales leaving me lost in wonder and amazement. 

I still have some heroes; people I admire and look up to; people who have inspired me - and still do. Most of their names would be unheard of, but they have given me something to wonder at or aspire to. Most of them wouldn't want the #legend thing. They are simply doing their best to live out the life God has given them, following in the steps of the one true legend - God's son, Jesus. If anyone merits #legend it's Jesus. He certainly gets all my awe and wonder, and I know this is one 'legend' who will never let me down.

I've been #legend myself a time or two. I wobble on the pedestal now and again. Let's hope I don't fall off! Don't take it all too seriously is what I say!