Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

The Leap Years of My Life

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The Leap Years of my Life
2012—Happy. Blogging happily, in Oxford, England.
2008—Oxford, England. Leading a Bible study with two other insecure, neurotic women (which makes 3). Huge stress.
The first year of running my little publishing company. HUGE stress and insecurity and uncertainty. Am not writing at all, and am very sad.
2004—Williamsburg, Virginia. We are moving to England in April, supposedly for 9 months. I am in total denial and keep writing till a couple of days before, and leave the house a total mess. We had planned to rent it out, and my friend Kathy kindly got it super-pretty and eminently rentable.
2000— Williamsburg, Virginia. The millennium year. Irene is one year old, Zoe starts kindergarten that year.
1996— Williamsburg, Virginia. Zoe is two. I am reading massively, listening to books on tape every chance I get, writing a lot. Rather depressed since my book manuscript was turned down the previous year. Travel a lot—2 weeks in New Zealand, a summer in England, a visit to India, winter in Madrid.
1992–Minneapolis, Minnesota. Ah, that was a memorable year, and happy. I loved living in Minneapolis. On the 29th Feb. we were invited to a posh dinner by Gene Golub, Roy’s post-doctoral adviser at Stanford, who turned 15 on that day, being born on Feb. 29th. We gave him a wrapped present, which began ringing as he accepted it. It was the University of Leuven, Belgium calling on his new mobile phone, offering him a honorary doctorate.
1988—Columbus, Ohio, First year in America. Masters student in poetry. All I talk, live, breathe and write is poetry (not very good poetry, alas).
1984—Oxford, England. Orwell gets his predictions so wrong, thank goodness. And it’s an amazing year for me. I come to Oxford to study English, and love it.
1980—Calcutta, India. Believe it or not, I was a nun then, at Mother Teresa’s convent. I was a postulant, loved my postulant mistress, Sister Ruby, who loved me too, and was, sort of, happy!!
1976—Nainital, India. Good year, enjoyed studying and reading.
1972—Nainital, India. A very naughty ten year old, but with a talent for writing. I would write totally fictitious accounts of prizes I won to visit Paris, and what I did there, and my teacher would ask seriously, “How long did you spend there?”
1968—Jamshedpur, India, Funny year. The headmistress suddenly decided I was a genius, and in the middle of a class, and a year, I and my books were moved up a grade. Academically, I kept pace except in Hindi, where I missed vital steps, and never recovered self-confidence. Fanatic stamp-collector especially of 1968 Mexico City, Olympics.
1964—Jamshedpur, India. The year would turn traumatic with the birth of my sister, but I was an indulged only child then, my first leap year on this earth.
Thanks for inspiration to Emma Major.

An Autobiography in Blog Posts I. Childhood, Boarding School, a Novice at Mother Teresa’s Convent!

By

Sister Josephine, IBMV
St Marys Convent High School, Nainital India
St. Mary’s Convent, Nainital
Nainital
Nainital in winter
Looking at my stats, I’ve realized that my readership has increased by 350 percent since September, so I thought I would rewrite my About Me page. Well, it grew… so I am doing a series of four autobiographical posts, tentatively covering
I. Childhood, Boarding School, a Novice at Mother Teresa’s Convent,
II. Undergraduate days at Oxford, graduate school in America, Marriage
III. Minneapolis and Williamsburg, motherhood, writing
IV. Back to Oxford, business, blogging. So…

About Me
I was born in India and was born a Catholic, which was odd. My grandparents were born in Mangalore, a town converted by the Portuguese in the 16th century.
My childhood, I guess, could be summed up in two words: “reading,” a lot, precociously, and “mischief”.  I was known as the naughtiest girl in the school and was expelled from my first school, aged 8.
I then went to a Catholic boarding school run by Irish and German nuns, St. Mary’s Convent, in Nainital, a beautiful pristine hill-station in the Himalayas. It gave me a solid academic foundation.
The nuns required almost the same devotions of us as of themselves: daily Mass; Benediction: a cascade of hymns every Sunday evening; Adoration: silent prayer before the “Blessed Sacrament” every first Sunday; Confession, Rosary, and choir-practices.
One highlight of school was reading. We had 2.5 hours of silent study a day & I finished my homework quickly, then sat and memorized—poems, speeches, whole Shakespeare plays, passages of luscious prose. I had (probably still have, haven’t tested it) a freak verbal memory, and know a poem or scripture passage pretty much by heart after a few readings. But perhaps I wouldn’t have discovered this if we didn’t have to sit and study, all fiction banned, but not poetry or drama
The other highlight of school was my relationship with Sister Josephine, an Irish nun who invested in me, and said she loved me best of all the girls she had taught over the last 40 years. She would get me books from the nun’s library or the senior classes, train me in elocution, and discuss Scripture with me for hours, because I had dozens of sceptical questions. She was an Irish Protestant convert to Catholicism, and I think I absorbed a Protestant world view (the centrality of Jesus) from her. She quietly ignored all the add-on aspects of Catholicism (the dear departed in purgatory, saints, rosaries, novenas, making it easier to shed them later).
I was rebellious, an atheist, “the naughtiest girl in the school”, but after a sudden conversion experience decided to enter Mother Teresa’s convent and become a nun.
It followed the ancient Benedictine model, a mixture of work and prayer. Since I was still in training, we spent mornings in classes on theology, Scripture and their constitution, and in prayer. We worked in Mother Teresa’s homes in the evenings– in the home for dying destitute, orphans, and the mentally handicapped. (I’ve written about my work at Kalighat, the home for dying destitute in Zaleski’s Best Spiritual Writing series.
 The recitation of the Liturgy of the Hours–laud, none, vespers and compline, a melange of psalms and traditional prayers–ring-fenced the day in prayer. In addition, there was Mass; an early morning half-hour of silent meditation on scripture; an hour of “adoration,” or contemplative prayer; and a half hour of spiritual reading. A total of 3.5 hours in various spiritual activities. I did gain much familiarity with Scripture, which has been a blessing to me.
When I was there, 1979-1980, it was a young religious order, and eccentric, shaped by a visionary, who was revered, and apparently unquestioningly obeyed.
One of her dearly-held ideas was that one needed to voluntarily share the hardships of the poorest of the poor to have empathy for them.
The deliberate quest for extreme poverty meant that we were put 25 to a room, and there was a constant time-consuming shifting and re-arranging as the room became a refectory, a classroom, and a dormitory.
There was no running water which meant we spent half an hour every day in a crocodile, drawing buckets of water from the wells and transporting it to the bathrooms and kitchen. We had just 2 sets of white sarees, which meant daily hand-washing…
The food was simple, and nutritious enough, but, another peculiarity: there were large fixed quantities one had to eat, which were quite extreme: 5 chapatis for breakfast, and five ladles of rich for lunch and dinner. After a couple of her sisters caught TB on her original diet of salt and rice, rice and salt, she imposed this as a safeguard against disease.
Everything, even the pettiest details–subjects to meditate on as one dressed, mending sarees from thread unravelled from scraps, eating the skin of papayas– was controlled by rules. It was high-control, almost like a cult, legalistic and judgmental.  After a while, it becomes easier not to think for yourself, and instead do whatever would get you praised, or avoid what would get you judged.
We slept at 10, and woke at 4.40 a.m. for church, with a half hour mid-day nap. Since I was 17 when I joined, I was perpetually tired and felt constantly sleep-deprived. Sleep deprivation (used by cults, and authoritarian systems: labour camps, prisons) makes it easy to go along with authority and not question. My first thought on waking and predominant longing was for naps and bedtime. It wasn’t sustainable.
The first three years were a kind of boot-camp, deliberately harsh. The novice-mistresses had complete power over us (one of the vows was obedience) and I struggled with perceived injustice, and the authoritarianism with no recourse of complaint.
The nervous intensity of prayer, and scripture study and meditation can ironically heighten irritability, and the rub of community life 24/7 with 25 people sharing a medium sized room.
Two people had breakdowns when I was there. One just sat and giggled helplessly. Another was sent home and attempted to jump out from the bars of the train. Leaving the convent once you join was viewed as disgraceful in Indian Catholic society.
Eventually, I saw an image of myself in a train going ever further in the wrong direction, but afraid to get off for fear of looking foolish. I conquered my adolescent fear of looking foolish and asked for permission to leave.
And, in fact, my health was shattered, though no one realized this while I was in the convent. I returned home, deeply exhausted, and within the month was diagnosed with both early stage TB and hepatitis!

Continued–Oxford, America, Marriage, Writing

The Best Writing Advice: Love your Reader

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 Undercover Readers
  http://www.flickr.com/photos/lesbryant2/4058975175/

Don Miller says that this is the best writing advice: Love your Reader.The golden rule is also a good blogging precept: Write the kind of posts you would really like to read. Ask yourself: Would I like to read this? What would reading this do to me? If you wouldn’t care to read it on someone else’s blog, chances are nobody will want to read it on yours.

* * *

I can’t get enough of grace, of the deep love and mercy of God. And that’s fortunate—because grace and the love of God are some of the few things I can’t get too much of which are actually good for me. All the others things involve spending too much, or eating too much, or sitting too much, or…you get the picture.

And this is one way to blog daily without exhausting oneself, without boring oneself, without repeating oneself. By dipping one’s cup into the deep wells of the loving creativity of God: God’s stream of thoughts, which outnumbers the stars. (Psalm 139:18).

* * *

How exactly do we love our readers?

Well, for starters, we give them grace, rather than the law. Peter, who knew the disgrace of failing—lying, betraying, being pushy and envious–in public, eventually had little time for the law. Didn’t work for him; won’t work for us.  The question he asks the council of Jerusalem changes the course of church history: Now, therefore, why are you putting God to the test by placing a yoke on the neck of the disciples that neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear? But we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.” (Acts 15:10).

Grace rather than the law. The positive rather than the negative. There is a place for negativity and opposition, of course. If Christians hadn’t bitterly opposed other Christians, slavery might still exist because of the scriptural injunction, “Slaves, submit to your masters.”  Women would not be ordained because of “I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man.” And how unfair for one gender to always be preached at by the other!

* * *

And speaking of preaching: Don’t do it in blogs. People do not come to  blogs to be told what is good to do. They come because they are bored, they feel a little empty, a little depressed, perhaps; they come seeking stimulation and interest, inspiration and fullness.

If they are Christians, they probably have shelves of Bibles and Christian books, telling them what is good to be done. They do not come to your blog for that. They know the many good things they could be doing instead of reading blogs—housework, exercise, Bible study, prayer.

But they come to your blog for a little bit of beauty, a little bit of grace, a little bit of comfort, the energy to go on, perhaps.

So what is this reader offered? Law or grace?  Preaching or the honey of the Holy Spirit? If a reader came to your blog weary and heavy-laden, harassed and helpless, exhausted and overwhelmed, would this be an energizing hope-filled post or make their shoulders sag deeper?

* * *

As I grow older, I dislike what smacks of the law and burden-loading. I dislike preachiness, and tacking-on additional burdens to simple faith and grace.

I like hope-filled blogs, full of the wonder of the spiritual life and spiritual discoveries. Because Christianity is really a hopeful religion, full of Can-do and God’s infinite power, which is available for us who believe. Full of the power of prayer, and the infinity of grace. It’s annoying when it becomes a soul-shrinking, guilt-inducing To Do list.

* * *

Sometimes I feel we need to hear “Relax, God loves you,” in a hundred different ways. Relax, God is your Father. Trust God. Consider the lilies. In everything, give thanks.

Is that all Christianity is? No, of course, not. But if it takes seven compliments to undo one negative word, then we need to hear that God loves us, and delights in us seven times for every time we are reminded of the good Christian things we fail to do.

* * *

There are two yardsticks for our endeavours: temporal and eternal.  One might succeed brilliantly (or not) by temporal measures, which in blogging would be the quality of writing, readers, followers, ranking, and all that jazz.

But there is also an eternal standard. My friend, singer-songwriter Debby Barnes, ends her haunting song, In the End, by asking,

Was there any love there in the end?

And that is a scary and chastening question we will all be asked one day.

* * *

 

My blog post was first published in the Big Bible’s Digidisciple project.

C.S. Lewis’s Five Commonsensical Rules of Good Writing

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  1. C. S. Lewis What really matters is:–

    1. Always try to use the language so as to make quite clear what you mean and make sure your sentence couldn’t mean anything else.

    2. Always prefer the plain direct word to the long, vague one. Don’timplement promises, but keep them.

    3. Never use abstract nouns when concrete ones will do. If you mean “More people died” don’t say “Mortality rose.”

    4. In writing. Don’t use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was “terrible,” describe it so that we’ll be terrified. Don’t say it was “delightful”; make us say “delightful” when we’ve read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers, “Please will you do my job for me.”

    5. Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say “infinitely” when you mean “very”; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.

From

C. S. Lewis’s Letter’s to Children

Tricking Oneself into Writing

By

woman-writing-a-book
Image Credit

So I am trying to make the transition back from blogging to “real” writing.
                                                      * * *
Anyway, here are a few tips that have helped me trick more writing out of myself.
1 Sometimes, when I think I am mentally tired, I am not really. My conscious has worked as much as it can on what I am writing. I am bored, or have hit a wall. I need to put it aside now for an hour or two, to let my unconscious mull over it.
However, taking up a new piece of work will give me fresh energy and passion.
2  When I don’t feel like writing, feel sleepy, tired, lethargic, sluggish, then putting a timer for just 15 minutes, or just 5, gets me going. The timer goes off and feels like an intrusion. I want to continue writing.
3 After a few days of serious work, my spirit protests. I feel as if I want a break. It really, really helps to just declare a Sabbath. I garden, I exercise, I tidy up, I pray. I shop online. The wells fill up. Thoughts clarify. And then, after an hour or two, I am delighted to get back to work.
 If on the whole, you love writing, and occasionally really don’t want to, don’t. Do other things, be physical, wait until the underground springs bubble up like a geyser.
What are your favourite tricks for tricking writing out of yourself?

Garden pictures on Nov. 20th, and personal Facebook updates

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Ragged courgette plants may produce one last harvest
Houttuynia (a variegated herb)
Pigeon’s nest exposed by the falling grape leaves
One last yellow Buddleia
Pepper plant to be brought into the conservatory
Parsley flower/seed head
Duck drying off

A last strawberry
Pak choi (Bok Choi)
Apple mint seed heads (left for the goldfinches)
Medlar (Eastern European fruit)
Raised bed with lamb’s lettuce and spinach
Broad bean (winter hardy I’m told)
Cabbage
What are these lovely berries?
Ducks enjoying fresh water
Ducks about to take the plunge

Herb garden showing plentiful sage

Roy has been working from home since June 2010. He’s become super-organised, and usually has something in the oven for when the girls come home. Lancashire hot-pot today. Beef stew, lamb roast, and roast duck are some of his other specialties. His latest saying, “Men should run houses; we do SO much better!”
3 October
Ah, Roy’s latest culinary achievement–pretty darn good homemade, whole wheat bread. And it wasn’t too hard either. Thanks,Klaudia for giving us the idea. I think he is going to go on experimenting until he’s got it perfected!
12 October Looking forward to a quiet family weekend of movies and maybe board games. Thanks to Ruth and Matthew for introducing us to new ones in my first board games evening in years. I also enjoyed having Lesley Crawley, Alan Crawley, Erika Baker and Klaudia Schwenk here for lunch. They motivated me to get my house all picked up and tidy:)
Cold snap setting in. Grr. And we have booked a beach cabin belonging to Lee Abbey in Exmoor, Devon next week. We are looking forward to a week of some worship and quiet time at the Abbey, along with long walks on the beaches and moors. He leads me by still waters; he restores my soul. In moors of green, he makes me rest, by the quiet ocean.
16 OctoberWomen perform 66 percent of the world’s work, produce 50 percent of the food, but earn 10 percent of the income and own 1 percent of the property!

Enjoying Roy Godwin’s “The Grace Outpouring” about the Ffald-y-Brenin retreat centre in Pembrokeshire. Going there in Dec. Has anyone been?

Irene, 12 who reads and listens to books on tape constantly speaks and writes like a book. She wrote a brilliant essay, & her teacher accused her of copying it from the internet. She didn’t. It’s just how she speaks and writes. She protested & the teacher said, “Of course, dear. Class, I would rather you expressed things badly than copied off the internet. I too, twice, when younger, was accused of plagiarism because my work was too good. Grrr.

The family’s bathroom is full of a dazzling array of haircare and beauty products–NONE of which I have bought or use! Sigh! #motherofIrene!

Enjoyed my Zumba class : high energy mixture of salsa, Latin and African inspired dance. Felt high as a cloud doing it. Now, happy but SORE!

Well-deserved Booker win for Julian Barnes. Still can’t believe his lovely “Flaubert’s Parrot,” lost to Anita Brookner all those years ago!

J B Phillips: “translating the Bible was like rewiring a house with the electricity plugged in.” So too is studying it! Must carve out time!

You know your daughter is doing A level philosophy when you say, “I can’t make myself pack till the last moment” & Zoe says, “Nonsense. That’s a fatalistic approach. Jean-Paul Sarte would be shocked!”

Zoe effortlessly did something on my new MacBook which floored me and Roy. Zoe, I said, amazed, we’re floored. No, you are not flawed, mum and dad, she said in all seriousness. You’re just old.”

Irene stands in front on the mirror, with a beanie hat on, trying to sneer . “Don’t I look really dodgy?” Zoe, “Nonsense. You can’t look dodgy with a dimple.”

We try to hike the Valley of Rocks in Exmoor. I tell Irene, “The First Rule of Mountains: Things change. Be prepared.” I stride off. She joins me 20 minutes later. It is a bright, sunny day, but she has brought 1) an umbrella 2) a coat 3) hat, gloves, muffler, 4) A bag of snacks 5 A book in case she gets bored 6) A torch.
“Don’t be so literal-minded, Irene,” I now scold.

Roy and Zoe get stuck into sorting out our bookshelves, and I fear they will not eat till they are done. Roy was to fix lunch. “We have human bodies,”I remind him. “And human bodies need food.” “You have a human body, but the face of an angel,” he tells me. I wander off, digesting this happily, forgetting lunch.
I hear him say, “They say, ‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere. It’s not true!”
Zoe’s seventeenth birthday party–75 Indian nibbles, trays of pullao rice and naan bread, 5 curries–balti, pasanda, korma, madras, and tikka masala, kulfi and cake. Think we’re set! To be honest, Roy’s cooking one tray, and we are resorting to take-out for the rest–which should be just as or more delicious than our endeavours, hopefully!!
30 OctoberTrying to eat significantly less. Amazing how clear-headed this helps one feel and how well one can concentrate:)

Grieving for the hour of daylight so soon to be stolen from me. Celebrating it with a bonfire for Zoe’s 17th birthday 🙂 #Hatewintertime.

A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song. – Maya Angelou

Roy’s just returned from our brilliant small group, which, sadly, I decided not to go to today. A member of the group who spends the meeting sleeping explained why. He’s an early riser. “Christians who want to go to heaven should be asleep by 11.” Lol! Never heard that one. Which gives me 48 minutes to be asleep. Good night, world!
Don’t we all need a reference letter from the poor when we meet Christ?
Ann Voskamp

Confused. I wrote and spelled Indian English, then British English, until I moved to America in my twenties, and then wrote and spelled American English for 17 years. When I returned to England in 2004, I used American English, though have slowly begun shifting back to UK English. Thank goodness for spell-checkers, since I have honestly forgotten a lot of British spellings. Realised, not realized. Goodness!
13 November Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. It doesn’t mean you have to have lunch with that person. Anne Lamott.
Description: https://fbcdn-photos-a.akamaihd.net/photos-ak-snc1/v27562/23/2231777543/app_2_2231777543_9553.gifFor domestic goddesses: “The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” William Morris
Okay, we attend a beautiful baptism and confirmation service yesterday. And you know what Roy whispers to me as we exchange the peace? “It’s like Halloween. The inflatable swimming pool for baptisms. The vicar in fishing waders. The bishop in golden vestments. His dishy chaplain in red vestments, carrying an outsize crozier.” Nope, not Halloween. Just a bit Anglo-Catholic!
14 NovemberLesley Crawley, Alan Crawley, thank for hosting such a relaxed, lovely lunch. Jules Middleton, I loved meeting you at last:)

Surprise gift of an evening! Was about to go out to a friend’s house at 7.45 p.m. when I was overtaken by a paroxysm of coughing. Stayed home. Surprise free evening. Yummy. Odd how happy you are when even things you had looked forward to going to get cancelled. I am so enjoying blogging these days:-)
 Overheard in our home, “Mum, you need to have an extremely interesting life to be on Twitter.” !!

‎22nd Wedding Anniversary. Roy gives me a gift engraved with, “When I count my blessings, I count you twice.” “Aww,” I say, and he adds, “I won’t say how often I count you when I count my worries and my problems.” 22 years, and we’re still untrained!!

My daughter, Irene, 12. “God should have put evolution in the Bible. If that’s not in there, it makes you wonder what else is not in there!”

A Scriptural mandate to rest!A whole day to rest! Oh how I love Sundays!! (Middle-aged moment!)


Roy has been working from home since June 2010. He’s become super-organised, and usually has something in the oven for when the girls come home. Lancashire hot-pot today. Beef stew, lamb roast, and roast duck are some of his other specialties. His latest saying, “Men should run houses; we do SO much better!”
3 OctoberAh, Roy’s latest culinary achievement–pretty darn good homemade, whole wheat bread. And it wasn’t too hard either. Thanks,Klaudia for giving us the idea. I think he is going to go on experimenting until he’s got it perfected!
12 October Looking forward to a quiet family weekend of movies and maybe board games. Thanks to Ruth and Matthew for introducing us to new ones in my first board games evening in years. I also enjoyed having Lesley Crawley, Alan Crawley, Erika Baker and Klaudia Schwenk here for lunch. They motivated me to get my house all picked up and tidy:)
L14 OctoberCold snap setting in. Grr. And we have booked a beach cabin belonging to Lee Abbey in Exmoor, Devon next week. We are looking forward to a week of some worship and quiet time at the Abbey, along with long walks on the beaches and moors. He leads me by still waters; he restores my soul. In moors of green, he makes me rest, by the quiet ocean.
Like · · 16 OctoberWomen perform 66 percent of the world’s work, produce 50 percent of the food, but earn 10 percent of the income and own 1 percent of the property!

Enjoying Roy Godwin’s “The Grace Outpouring” about the Ffald-y-Brenin retreat centre in Pembrokeshire. Going there in Dec. Has anyone been?

Irene, 12 who reads and listens to books on tape constantly speaks and writes like a book. She wrote a brilliant essay, & her teacher accused her of copying it from the internet. She didn’t. It’s just how she speaks and writes. She protested & the teacher said, “Of course, dear. Class, I would rather you expressed things badly than copied off the internet. I too, twice, when younger, was accused of plagiarism because my work was too good. Grrr.

The family’s bathroom is full of a dazzling array of haircare and beauty products–NONE of which I have bought or use! Sigh! #motherofIrene!

Enjoyed my Zumba class : high energy mixture of salsa, Latin and African inspired dance. Felt high as a cloud doing it. Now, happy but SORE!

Well-deserved Booker win for Julian Barnes. Still can’t believe his lovely “Flaubert’s Parrot,” lost to Anita Brookner all those years ago!

J B Phillips: “translating the Bible was like rewiring a house with the electricity plugged in.” So too is studying it! Must carve out time!

You know your daughter is doing A level philosophy when you say, “I can’t make myself pack till the last moment” & Zoe says, “Nonsense. That’s a fatalistic approach. Jean-Paul Sarte would be shocked!”

Zoe effortlessly did something on my new MacBook which floored me and Roy. Zoe, I said, amazed, we’re floored. No, you are not flawed, mum and dad, she said in all seriousness. You’re just old.”

Irene stands in front on the mirror, with a beanie hat on, trying to sneer . “Don’t I look really dodgy?” Zoe, “Nonsense. You can’t look dodgy with a dimple.”

We try to hike the Valley of Rocks in Exmoor. I tell Irene, “The First Rule of Mountains: Things change. Be prepared.” I stride off. She joins me 20 minutes later. It is a bright, sunny day, but she has brought 1) an umbrella 2) a coat 3) hat, gloves, muffler, 4) A bag of snacks 5 A book in case she gets bored 6) A torch.
“Don’t be so literal-minded, Irene,” I now scold.

Roy and Zoe get stuck into sorting out our bookshelves, and I fear they will not eat till they are done. Roy was to fix lunch. “We have human bodies,”I remind him. “And human bodies need food.” “You have a human body, but the face of an angel,” he tells me. I wander off, digesting this happily, forgetting lunch.
I hear him say, “They say, ‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere. It’s not true!”
29 October Zoe’s seventeenth birthday party–75 Indian nibbles, trays of pullao rice and naan bread, 5 curries–balti, pasanda, korma, madras, and tikka masala, kulfi and cake. Think we’re set! To be honest, Roy’s cooking one tray, and we are resorting to take-out for the rest–which should be just as or more delicious than our endeavours, hopefully!!
Trying to eat significantly less. Amazing how clear-headed this helps one feel and how well one can concentrate:)

Grieving for the hour of daylight so soon to be stolen from me. Celebrating it with a bonfire for Zoe’s 17th birthday 🙂 #Hatewintertime.

A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song. – Maya Angelou

Roy’s just returned from our brilliant small group, which, sadly, I decided not to go to today. A member of the group who spends the meeting sleeping explained why. He’s an early riser. “Christians who want to go to heaven should be asleep by 11.” Lol! Never heard that one. Which gives me 48 minutes to be asleep. Good night, world!
Don’t we all need a reference letter from the poor when we meet Christ?
Ann Voskamp

Confused. I wrote and spelled Indian English, then British English, until I moved to America in my twenties, and then wrote and spelled American English for 17 years. When I returned to England in 2004, I used American English, though have slowly begun shifting back to UK English. Thank goodness for spell-checkers, since I have honestly forgotten a lot of British spellings. Realised, not realized. Goodness!
13 November Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back. It doesn’t mean you have to have lunch with that person. Anne Lamott.
Description: https://fbcdn-photos-a.akamaihd.net/photos-ak-snc1/v27562/23/2231777543/app_2_2231777543_9553.gif
For domestic goddesses: “The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” William Morris

Okay, we attend a beautiful baptism and confirmation service yesterday. And you know what Roy whispers to me as we exchange the peace? “It’s like Halloween. The inflatable swimming pool for baptisms. The vicar in fishing waders. The bishop in golden vestments. His dishy chaplain in red vestments, carrying an outsize crozier.” Nope, not Halloween. Just a bit Anglo-Catholic!

Like · · Share · 14 November‎Lesley Crawley, Alan Crawley, thank for hosting such a relaxed, lovely lunch. Jules Middleton, I loved meeting you at last:)

Surprise gift of an evening! Was about to go out to a friend’s house at 7.45 p.m. when I was overtaken by a paroxysm of coughing. Stayed home. Surprise free evening. Yummy. Odd how happy you are when even things you had looked forward to going to get cancelled. I am so enjoying blogging these days:-)
16 NovemberOverheard in our home, “Mum, you need to have an extremely interesting life to be on Twitter.” !!

‎22nd Wedding Anniversary. Roy gives me a gift engraved with, “When I count my blessings, I count you twice.” “Aww,” I say, and he adds, “I won’t say how often I count you when I count my worries and my problems.” 22 years, and we’re still untrained!!

My daughter, Irene, 12. “God should have put evolution in the Bible. If that’s not in there, it makes you wonder what else is not in there!”

A Scriptural mandate to rest!A whole day to rest! Oh how I love Sundays!! (Middle-aged moment!)

Secret Disciples and Celebrity Christians: Not Necessarily the Same

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 These are the best read Christian authors in the world today: Francis Chan, David Platt, Ann Voskamp, Randy Alcorn, Lysa TerKeurst Here are the top 5 Christian bloggers in the world : Justin Taylor, Trevin Wax, the Resurgence, Desiring God, Tim Challies.And the most influential Christians on Twitter according to the New York Times are Rick Warren, Joel Osteen, and Joyce Meyer.

* * *

And are these the greatest Christians now alive?

The most famous Christians are not necessarily the greatest Christians, and the quest for fame is intrinsically at odds with the spiritual life.

When Edith Shaeffer was asked who the greatest living Christian woman in the world was, she replied memorably, ‘We don’t know her name. She is dying of cancer somewhere in a hospital in India.’

Who is the greatest? The disciples were vexed by this question, and Jesus tried to solve it more than once. The one who believes like a child. The one who can serve others.

* * *

The blogosphere can be a noisy place. A clamour of opinion, attack, self-promotion and the trivial, though shot through with gems of insight, wisdom, humour and beauty. And sometimes, even with the divine.

Sometimes, the difference between the echo chamber of anger, finger pointing and “outing” in the Christian blogosphere, and the gentle whisper in which God ultimately speaks to Elijah can be striking.

And just when you despair, you hear gentle voices which are close to God’s heartbeat, Ann Voskamp, definitely, and often, the more polemic John Piper, and you feel better. You realize that even the snakes and ladders world of fame, celebrity, attention, followers, is, of course, under the sovereignty of God. That God is sovereign over the literary world, and sovereign over the blogosphere. That God has an interest in promoting mystics like Ann Voskamp whose heart beats like his.

* * *

We write to be read. When I first began blogging, I worried, because it seemed that controversy, attack and tearing down definitely got more traction, readers, attention and links, than things which might be a blessing, be soul-nourishing and soul-fattening.

But there are spiritual dangers in tearing down other Christians, or other Christian bloggers. It’s the work of “the accuser of the brethren who accuses them night and day before the throne.” Though sometimes, if the views of an influential Christian are harmful, something might need to be said. Or done.

* * *

But there are spiritual dangers too in writing about the spiritual life. The wonderful Norwegian writer, O. Hallesby, said that one’s secret life with Christ in the secret places of prayer is like a cosy, warm Norwegian cottage in a blustery winter. If you talk about your prayer life, you open the door, and cold wintry blasts enter.

The only justification for doing so is that that’s the song I have to sing. One of my deepest interests. I read Christian memoirs and autobiographies as travel dispatches from people who have ventured deeper into the holy wilds of God than I have, and I want to hear the news, the travel conditions, their blog, Facebook, and twitter reports of their travels, so to say. Similarly, by honestly describing my spiritual adventuring, I might be able construct a travel map, a topographical map for those who might be called to follow similar routes.

But we need grace, for writing about the spiritual life has all sorts of dangers—pride, self-promotion, exaggeration, and the dangers of “garden writing:” that one might spend more time describing the fruits and flowers in the garden of your soul than tending them. That one can continue with spiritual “garden writing,” even while the real garden grows weedy, unwatered and unkempt. This happens to many Christian preachers, speakers, celebrities and writers. But may it not be true of me, Lord.

                                                                                                                               * * *

 My hope, my goal in my blog posts is that I hear or overhear what God is saying, and saying to me, and express it. I want to see the world and see reality as he does.

We write to be read. Amid the clamour of many voices and the self-promotion of commercial Christianity, will gentle whispers ever be heard?

Yes. Because if one has sat at Christ’s feet long enough to hear his voice and feel his heartbeat, then he is as interested in having your voice heard as you are yourself.

So, relax, oh Christian blogger. If you do indeed have something to say which might bless the world, you have a friend in high places, a powerful connection, who also wants your voice to be heard, your words to be read, and know the best way to bring about this happy eventuality.

Oh to Blog Hearing the Father’s Voice, Not My Own!

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 David Cooke in Cookie’s Days, had this moving post.

It’s time to lay down the blog for a while.  Any blog that quotes Tim Keller as much as I do needs to watch its idolatry-o-meter as it tries to apply a lesson or two from Counterfeit Gods. 

You see, I have to be so careful not to like the sound of my own voice more than I long for the sound of the Father’s. I want to long for the Spirit more than the attention of others and I have noticed the two conflicting with each other slightly too much recently. 

I am going to take some time out to read the book Eugene Peterson says is one of the most important he has ever encountered. It’s called the ‘Descent of the Dove‘ by Charles Williams (one of Lewis’s pals who he supped warm ale with in the Eagle and Child).

 For all my, at times, strong opinions about the church that I love and the gospel I haplessly preach as best I can, I must remind myself anew that it is not about me and that the Holy Spirit is at work whatever I do or write. 

Maybe sometimes not always as I would like in the C of E, but to be honest what I think is of no consequence. What matters is what God thinks. The plan is that we each one of us love Jesus, try to stay humble (always a tricky one as our most humble moments can in fact be pride in disguise) and we need to remember afresh that we don’t have to prove anything. Grace really is sufficient.

I read it, shuddered, and felt convicted. I enjoy blogging. Blog posts compose themselves in my head all the time–most of which don’t get written down.

But it’s scary–I guess I too hear my own voice more than the Father’s, and so I too have to be “careful not to like the sound of my own voice more than I long for the sound of the Father’s.”

I too need to long for the Spirit more than anything.

I want my blog to flow out of my relationship with God, the way that Matt Redman, Michael Card and Rich Mullins’ song-writing organically flows out of their love affair with God, and their spiritual lives.

Besides, if my blog mostly flows out of hearing the Father’s voice and his heart and perspective, it will be far more of a blessing than if my blog merely expressed my own voice and perspective.

Not to say that there is no value in an individual’s voice–of course there is—but that value is overshadowed by the blessing of being able to hear the Father’s voice, and to hear the notes and lyrics of the song that he continually sings over us.

 The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zeph 3:17)