Introducing Father Priest

We recently bought a picture missal for our little boy to begin following the mass and while he's still more interested in playing with cars, shouting and climbing over the pews, he does sometimes look at the pictures and he likes to point out the priest. Thinking about what other things we could do to help him participate a little in the mass, I thought that a priest doll could be a really fun tool and I realised that with a little ingenuity I could make one. So I did!

I made a mock up first to figure out the pattern (I made 3 practice heads before I decided on the final shape) he's still kicking around the house lovingly known as Father Priest mark 1. Then it was a case of cutting head and hands from an off white scrap of cotton and body legs and arms from a black wool skirt that had felted in the wash. A white collar and some facial features from felt completed the basic doll.

I had great fun making his vestments. In time I plan to make all the liturgical colours but so far we're just ready for ordinary time. I've made the white alb, green stole from some ribbon and the green chasuble (one fat quarter was the perfect fit 😄) all hand stitched because I love to make extra work for myself and hate lugging the sewing machine around the house. Next on the to do list: purple for Lent.

User feedback so far has ranged from "He's got a cute face" to "I don't want Farva Pwiest" via "he's a bright balloon." So I'm going to say mixed. The baby definitely likes him though - he giggles at him and then tries to eat his head.

Welcoming the New Year

We certainly aren't the only ones to have had a difficult year in 2016. We have been struggling with unemployment. In so many ways we have found ourselves discouraged over the past year. For me personally, this has been difficult to cope with spiritually. At various times I have felt disappointment, fear, a lack of faith and a failure of hope. It has been hard to keep praying.

When you are praying for the same intercession over such a long time, with no sign of an answer you start to question yourself, to doubt God's love. People tend to suggest that perhaps what you're asking for is not what God wills for you and for a while, I let that idea get to me. I could never believe though, that with two young children to care for that the Lord willed for us to be without the means to support ourselves. Didn't he say to us 7 “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened."? (Matt 7)
Didn't he give practical help to the blind and the lame? Hasn't he, through the intercessions of the saints, answered two thousand years worth of prayers and more? 

So at last I came to the realisation that I had only one choice: to believe. I had to know for sure that God would answer our prayers and trust in him to sustain us in our wait. 

At last, our prayers were answered, and in such a way that we could be in no doubt that God was in it. We will both go into the new year employed by the same University in roles that suit our backgrounds. My husband's job offer even came on the same day of his graduation - and his name day. 

I continue to pray, now that we can make a success of this opportunity we have been given. And to praise the Lord for his goodness, For the concern he shows for all his little ones, even in my own life. 

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour"

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.