And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not

To all my friends, and anyone who reads this post, I wish you all the blessings of Christmas. I pray that your heart will know the glory of the incarnation on this holy day. With love, Naomi

Incarnation - The coming of God, the light, into his own creation, causing everything within to shine his reflected glory. 

My free time in October was dedicated to stitching the piece above, a meditation on the idea of incarnation.

In November, I spent every spare minute preparing for a craft fair that I organised with a few friends at my Dad's church (what do you do when you can't find a craft fair to sell at on the weekend you want? Organise your own!) We had lots of fun, and the parishioners at St John's in Crowborough were so welcoming. My talented friends ,Emma Wyton - Amazing illustrator, Caroline Armour - Crochet to the stars and Lauren Hawes - textile designer of incredible precision, put on a wonderful show... and if you're interested, we all take commissions!

I'm not ready

I'm not ready for kids
     Not ready to hand over my house
     To the mess and the grime and the slime of
          kids.
     Or to quit climbing my mountains
     To spend my time on
          kids.
     Not ready to lose my relationship
     In the stress and the hurry and hustle of
          kids.
     I'm not ready for the responsibility of
          kids,
     Or to lose myself for
          kids.
I'm not ready for kids.
     Not ready to fill my house with the
     Tears and giggles and hugs of
          kids.
     Not ready to be amazed at every
     car or dog or lamppost like
          kids,
     Or to watch my husband bloom into Dad
     when he's with our
          kids.
     I'm not ready to become a new
     a better person for my
          kids.
I'm not ready for kids
But tell me, who is?

Praying out Loud

I found myself today surrounded by my toddler (can you be surrounded by one person? Yes, when they're two and a half feet tall, charging about and destroying your living room, yes you can.) He was busy overturning the dining chairs and dismantling my armchair, and in the middle of it I was reciting out loud the words of the novena to Christ the King.

Oh by the way, there's this really cool thing:

praymorenovenas.com

It reminds you to pray novenas.

Occasionally, I had to pause to say something along the lines of "No, please don't hit the baby" or "OUCH!" or "ARGGGGGHHHH GET THE CHAIR OFF MY FOOT!" 

I could think: what good is any of this? I'm not really concentrating on the prayers, I'm not giving my son all the attention he wants. He's certainly not interested in praying. It is tempting to see it this way, and to just give up. 

But I chose to pray in that moment. I offered that moment to God because it was all that I had to give. All I have to give, one baby boy who smiles and screams, one little boy who spreads chaos as a matter of routine. All I have to give, a head full of worries and a trepidatious heart. I have to hand over the hoovering and the laundry and the tears I wipe from faces and the play doh apples that I'm ordered to make and the stories I read and the nappies I change and all the love I have for my little family. I give what I have and in so doing I find that I am rich. 

And for my son too the prayer time matters, we are trying to get him used to God. He makes the sign of the cross - even if he does get it a little mixed up with head, shoulders, knees and toes. He can point out Mummy Mary and St Joseph and Jesus when we go to church. We light a candle together - having to remind him that we should not blow it out because Jesus might like to look at it later. He can almost say Amen. He has a lot to learn, but we can only start with little steps. 

So I'll carry on praying out loud and I hope that the Lord will hear me over the din. And I'll keep making baby steps towards my God. If I am ever going to reach him, I must be like a child. I must be more like my little ones, and they make baby steps. My little ones have a lot to learn, but so do I. 

Travels with a Toddler - Lake District

In late October we travelled up to the Lake District for a weekend with old friends. Having left it late to book, as we usually do, our best choice for low cost family accommodation was YHA Hawkshead. Hawkshead is a lovely youth hostel housed in a grand old Regency style house across the water from Ambleside. Our room was in the main part of the house, and we had wonderful views over Esthwaite Water and out to the mountains.

Staying all together in one room was never going to be the easiest option with a 2 year old and a 2 month old and we learnt on the first night that for our older boy to go to sleep distraction had to be kept to a minimum. In the traditional youth hostels like this one, there is always somewhere to go aside from your own dorm or room, so I made use of the quiet lounge to feed the little one and get on with some needlework while Andy settled the larger one (with much difficulty).

Our days were magical, the toddler loved exploring the countryside (read throwing pebbles/rocks/sticks into lakes/streams/puddles). The autumn colours were absolutely splendid and transformed the countryside into a glittering jewellery box. By the second day I was growing tired of having to gasp in awe every time we turned round a bend in the car.

We visited friends at the National Trust campsite in Langdale - the same one the toddler and I stayed at last year, and had a barbeque - all the other campers were terribly jealous. We walked around Tarn Hows on the wonderfully buggy-friendly trail, discovering a herd of cows, a money tree and some of the most postcard worthy views in Cumbria. We strolled around Ambleside, and I thanked God for the friendly local library where I could retreat to feed the little one without having to buy yet another coffee - it's a hard life!

We rounded off the weekend with a visit to Grisedale, exploring some of their more accessible adventure options. The walk from the visitor centre down some mountain bike trails to Wood Moss Tarn was certainly a buggy adventure with some rough-ish paths and undulating terrain through the woods. Then the short accessible loop around the woods near the outdoor education centre proved a wonderful activity for everyone as we were able to appreciate some of the gorgeous sculptures that have been installed there. In certain places the trees have been turned into music boxes that play a pretty tune when you wind them up - can there be anything more magical?

All in all we had a fantastic weekend with our friends and were able to provide a taste of adventure for our little boys in a stunning environment. I relished the opportunity to take some landscape photographs as you will see below...

The accessible trail at Grisedale

In the woods at Grisedale on the way to Wood Moss Tarn

A view over Tarn Hows

Part of the path at Tarn Hows - with herd of picturesque cows loitering in the background

Resplendent autumn colours at a fork in the path

Tarn Hows posing area

The Miraculous Wedding - Breastfeeding in a Bridesmaids Dress

Three years ago, the morning after our wedding, I received a text message from my friend Rachel asking for my new brother-in-law's number. In that moment, I was a little nervous, if this worked out, it would be a dream, if not, I could spend every Christmas in the company of the man who broke my best friend's heart. Gradually it emerged from other guests that the two of them had barely spent a moment apart on that wedding day, while we were celebrating getting married, they were falling in love.

It didn't take long for Rachel to assimilate into the family, they were committed right from the start. Everyone who knew them was sure that they'd be married one day. So when in February, Rachel called from their skiing holiday in France, there was no doubt as to what had happened. Atop a mountain, in the snow, Martin had got down on one knee.

She had asked me to be her Matron of Honour long before they were engaged, I had said 'Yes but I'll probably be pregnant'. When she asked again during that (slghtly hysterical) phone call we figured out that I wouldn't be pregnant, but I would have a young baby by then, so I would be breastfeeding.

It turns out it would have been easier if I had been pregnant. Breastfeeding and bridesmaids dresses don't mix!

We searched all over for a dress that looked formal and pretty that would allow me to feed, and we found a grand total of nothing. When the search was exhausted I summed up the courage and offered to make something.

My plan was to make a V neck dress out of stretch fabric that would allow access, then, since I can't stand to be seen in a V neck, create a lacy crop top that could be worn loose over it.

So, I thought, if I'm making my own dress, and we want somethng that matches - I should probably make the other two as well...

Our mood board

I make no claim to be an expert in dressmaking, I am a competent seamstress at best. However, by keeping it simple and sticking to what I know works, I managed to design and make the three dresses. Each of them was a little different: sleeves here, a different neckline there. Each consisted of a basic stretch dress and a simple lace cover up. By the time I was finishing the dresses I was at the machine with a newborn on my lap - now theres an experience I'll never forget!

Rachel chose bright autumnal colours for us and allowed us each to wear what suited our shape and colouring. As a result, I think we made a stunning group. The whole day was a fairytale, from the flowers to the ceilidh dancing, but the real fairytale for me was that I gained my best friend as a sister (let's drop the -in-law.)

Oh and the dress was perfect for feeding, easy access and a built in cover. Super comfortable too!

Sarah, Hannah and I in our completed dresses 

Sourdough - simplicity

I started a new sourdough this week. People might think sourdough is complicated or difficult but in my experience it is neither, I've found it really simple and forgiving. The other day, I took a clean yogurt pot, put in a spoonful of yogurt, a spoonful of flour and enough tepid water to make it a batter-like consistency. Then I (wrestled it out of the grasp of my little boy who wanted to eat it) put a bit of kitchen roll over it and set it aside. The next day I mixed in some flour and water, and the next day I mixed in some flour and water.... and so on. When it split, I mixed it up again. When it started to look nice and bubbly after about 5 days I knew it was ready! 

To make bread with it I use about 2 parts sourdough to 3 parts flour, a few shakes of salt, a spoonful of sugar (a la Mary Poppins) and enough water to make a dough. I often dribble in some olive oil but it's not essential. The only difference to using yeast is that it takes longer to rise. So you mix it in the morning, prove all day, then shape it in the evening to bake later. 

Oh it makes good bread... 

All right, this loaf came out a little wonky... tastes good though!

And in the end it's just a matter of flour and water... To my mind it couldn't be simpler. 

When you've got your starter going you just feed it some flour and water each day and make whatever you want out of it. If you want it lower maintenance you keep it in the fridge and feed it every few days. I hear you can even freeze it. A goldfish is more work than that and you don't get any bread from a goldfish. And if you get fed up with sourdough you can just throw it away... Unlike the goldfish. A goldfish is for life. 

What if I did that with Love?

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned,^a but have not love, I gain nothing.

We heard this reading from 1 Corinthians Chapter 13 at a wedding last week, and the priest exhorted us to do everything - even or perhaps especially the most mundane things of life - with love. This is the question I have been asking myself over the past week. If I am called to do everything 'with love' how do I go about it. What does it look like to order my day 'with love', how do I do the washing up 'with love', how do I chastise a naughty toddler 'with love'?

Another question has been haunting me recently too, this one arising in a book I was reading (I must admit now, the book bored me and got thrown across the room never to be finished soon after reading this particular quote)

And suddenly, in the middle of the central nave, I realize something very important: the cathedral is me, it is all of us. We are all growing and changing shape, we notice certain weaknesses that need to be corrected, we don't always choose the best solutions, but we carry on regardless, trying to remain upright and decent, in order to do honor not to the walls or the doors or the windows, but to the empty space inside, the space where we worship and venerate what is dearest and most important to us.

― Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

I have been asking myself what or who I put at the centre of my 'cathedral'. Is the inner sanctum of my cathedral reserved, as I would like to think it is, for Christ? Or does my metaphorical cathedral contain nothing more than an engorged and hideous graven image of myself?

Perhaps the two questions come together thus. Christ asks me to perform every action with love. Seeing Christ in all people around me and relating to God in my life of prayer, when my actions honour God, either in prayer or in helping others then I am acting with love. When I centre my life on Christ I cannot help but act with love. When I act with love, I cannot disentangle my life from Christ.

So in the last week, I have been trying more consciously to order my day with moments of prayer, moments to appreciate the people around me and time to practise the gifts that I have been given, knowing that writing and craftwork are calming to my soul because God made me this way. I have been washing up with a willing heart, banishing the tempting thought of resentment - 'Why should I have to wash up from breakfast and lunch' - and making an effort to notice and be grateful when my husband does the chores. I have been trying to calm myself when the little boy is misbehaving so as not to discipline him from a spirit of anger, but with the clear motive of correction.

Still, it's hard work and I haven't managed any of that quite yet. I'm still quite often a noisy gong and a clashing cymbal. But I'm working on it.

A Thought on Trinity Sunday

The Trinity is a mystery, just as it should be. God himself is beyond the perception of man, only through his own revelation can we know about him, only through relationship can we know him. Therefore analogising the Trinity seems to have fallen out of favour since the time of St Patrick, any analogy will fall short. But if we know that to begin with, can we not use an analogy as a starting place to meditate on the truth that God reveals of himself?

I'm sure this analogy has been hashed and rehashed and taken apart many times before, but the one that caught my attention this Trinity Sunday was the idea of light as shown through a prism. The light is one, both before passing through and after, but the prism reveals distinct colours in the light. For me then, the prism represented God's revelation of himself. He reveals himself in three distinct persons while always remaining One. The light loses nothing by being viewed through the prism, each of the colours remains what it always was, radience, but each shows to the onlooker something about the light. God is whole in each of the persons of the Trinity, not a part of a whole, but a whole, but showing himself in three guises, each adds in abundance to the glory of the Unity.

My mother loves to hang crystals at the East facing window at home - call her Pollyanna - in the morning the room is filled with rainbow colours. When the children are visiting she will climb up and spin the crystals, the room becomes a sunrise disco of dancing light and colour. God is so much more than any analogy could ever tell of him, but in a room of light and colour like that it is hard to miss the wonder of radience that he has built into our world. 

Christ is the light of the world, and light brings colour. Am I allowed to meditate on God through this analogy of light and colour?

Reflecting 19/05/16

Today I followed the Liturgy of the Hours for the first time in a long time. It did me a lot of good, but there were two lines in particular that stood out to me and felt very personal. 

From Psalm 126

They wept as they went, went with seed for the sowing;

but with joy they will come, come bearing the sheaves

There has been a lot of weeping lately. We're still waiting for someone to take a chance on offering us a job. We're sowing now, planting seeds that we're not sure will grow, that we think won't grow, but we have no choice but to continue. I had never understood why the sowing of seeds would involve sadness. I now know it's the sadness of uncertainty, fear, anxiety. It's the space where hope should fit, and sometimes does not. But there, in the next line is the promise: they will reap with joy. And the sweetness of the crop will be enhanced by the bitterness of the sowing. There will be a harvest because God does not abandon his people. I must try to feel like I haven't been abandoned. 

From Isaiah 40

Like a shepherd he feeds his flock,

  he gathers the lambs in his arms and lifts them to his breast;

  he carries the pregnant ewes.

The good shepherd extends his utmost tenderness to the pregnant ewes. This touched a pregnant lady's soul. The good shepherd cares well for his pregnant ewe, and the good Lord will not abandon me.

It was all going so well...

and then my laptop died. This is why I haven't written in ages! But I'm up and running again with a new set up and plan to show you all the craft work I've been doing over the last few months and write down some of the strange thoughts that have been floating through my head.

For now though here are a few teaser images to give you an idea of what I've been up to.