Dear Ellen

Dear Ellen,

I remember the day I first met you. Church camp, 2011, around the bonfire. My husband was playing guitar and singing so I was juggling a 2 year old girl and attempting to push my 5 month old baby to sleep in the buggy at the same time, whilst not blocking anyones view, whilst trying to keep him from crying. You were standing behind me and asked if you could help, took the buggy and pushed him to sleep. I'd never met you before, yet you reached out to help another mum having a hard time. For me that first experience with you epitomises who you are.

You are someone who sees people in need, and reaches out to help. Especially young girls, and mums, but you cared about everyone. Someone who was shy, and at first perhaps hard to get to know, but you'd still get out of your comfort zone to help someone who was on your heart, even if you didn't know them very well. I'm always amazed at your courage, when you were doing your job with Hippy - driving around, meeting new mums, helping them. The very idea terrifies me. You are so brave.

We went through some big things together. Big talks, big confessions, big tears, and big hugs. Pondering the big issues through books we and blogs that we loved. These are the things I will miss. The fact that you trusted me, what a privilege. Driving together to conferences and events where neither of us wanted to turn up alone. Worrying about people together, whether they were okay, what we could do to help. You were always willing to do anything you felt you could. 

Bonding over music. Every song (except for Metallica, sorry - though I do have a soft spot now for that song!) that was played yesterday was one I have on my iTunes too. I love that I have so much to listen to now that will make me think of you.

And now you're gone, way too soon, I was so so SO excited about your wedding. You never got to have a cuddle with my baby. I've got regrets, plenty of them. And there's nothing any of us can do. I know there's no point in asking Why. I know that it's natural to do it, but instead the only thing I'm left with is to remember you, thank God for the season I had with you, and to try to live in a way that will honour your memory. And this is not about putting you on a pedestal, and making you perfect, because you'd be the first to admit that you weren't, and none of us are. But it's about celebrating you and keeping you alive in us. This will mean a different thing for each of your friends and family, but for me, because our friendship was born of deep and meaningful discussions rather than the day-to-day fun stuff, it will mean this:

Noticing, caring for, and reaching out to people who are on the sidelines, people in pain, people who are forgotten. You were an incredible example of this to me, and you had more stamina and more grace than I did. Your memory compels me to carry on what you've started. I won't forget them.

Speaking kindly. Treating others politely, even if I'm annoyed. Showing respect. These things mattered to you. Kindness, grace, mercy. Thank you for being an example to me.

And lastly, spending time with God. Pressing on with Him, spending time with Him, reading my bible, reading books, seeking Him, and doing the hard yards - whatever it takes - to move forward with Him and become who I am in Him. Your courage astounded me, many times. Your commitment and your passion. The experiences we shared that I get to keep as sacred between us. I wish we'd had more time so we could have had more and more of them.

I know that you found true love and peace in Jesus, and you're with him now, and you "get" all of this, in a way none of us do. I look forward to the day that I get to sit down with you again, and we have a deep and meaningful and analytical discussion about it all that takes far too long, just like we used to do.

Love you forever,

Sarah xxx

Note: All the images above, except for her photo, are from Ellens Pinterest boards. Take a look through them. It's awesome to see what she loved. Let me know if you need an invite to join.

Thoughts on this day, Mothers day

Today it's Mother's day, and I thought I'd write a wee something, in the honour of trying to write shorter posts more often :)
A rough start today, with hubby out insane-early to church and me having my first ever Sunday on Kids this morning (what an eye-opener), with lots of things to remember to bring and organise. Add to that a small boy who decided it was fun to use his snuggly lamb toy as a whip on his sister, and said sister walloping him back - all while I was trying to type out PowerPoint song lyrics on the kids computer - and I was exhausted before I even arrived!
But after church and after a meltdown my husband gave me this:

Oh yes. Not just 4 pieces either, which still would have been great, but heaps of pieces. And no, I'm not sharing. Well, I will share it with him since he paid for it but not with anyone else!  (And he didn't go out and buy it after I had a meltdown, he'd already got it. Plus a hand-made card from my kids. Organised husband, I salute you.)

Mothers day isn't a nice day for everybody. I think of friends who lost their mums well before they should have. I think of relationship breakdowns. I think of the kids today in church who didn't come with a mum, either because she's not around or she isn't the one bringing them to church. I loved Lisa-Jo's post "For the Motherless daughter", she says anything far better than I can and she gets it. I don't think you'd ever understand what it was like to not have a mother unless you didn't have one.

Some memories of my mum from my childhood are around various creative activities, though she probably wouldn't call herself overly creative in an arty sense. I'm grateful she nurtured that in us. School holidays surrounded by Lego villages. One set of holidays where I was obsessed with making clowns - ping pong ball heads, fabric bodies, funny colours. Her teaching me cross stitch, and how to use the sewing machine. As a child, watching her (probably nagging her, more likely), as she sewed us our tracksuits - very trendy in the 80's I have to say - and then getting to go to the shopping mall with her and choose a print from the fancy place where they put a picture on the front of your sweatshirt. The one I remember most was a Persian cat, hideous pastel coloured flowery thing that I adored. Pale pink tracksuit. White blonde bob haircut... you get the picture.

Mum introduced me to my favourite author, Madeleine L'engle. She managed to navigate choosing books for me in my pre-teen years which I just loved, which could have gone very wrong. The Little house series, Anne of Green Gables, Frank Peretti's Cooper Kids adventure books. My most favourite book was the first one she bought me of Madeleine L'engles, called "A ring of endless light". Actually the third book in a series about Vicky Austin and her family. Vicky is the middle child, a poet, misunderstood and hiding in the shadow of her blonde, outgoing younger sister. She explores identity and death and doesn't shy away from issues that sometimes people wouldn't want to discuss with kids that age. As I went into my teens my Grandmother became the one who introduced authors to me. Kate Atkinson's "Behind the scenes at the museum" was the beginning. I loved Carol Sheilds, another introduction from her. A doorway into a new world, grown-up and beautifully written. I haven't had the concentration to stick at books like those for years now, but on my Grandma's 87th birthday this year I bought her "Walking on Water" by Madeleine L'engle, and it is special to be able to reciprocate those moments of book-sharing, and of not knowing you loved something until it landed in your hands and you turned the pages. My Grandma also reads every Jane Austen book, every year, and I haven't done that in years but would love to follow her example once life allows for sitting with a book with long paragraphs and older language again. At the moment life allows for re-reading of extremely easy books, in between breaking up squabbles between small children.

Happy Mothers day, everyone. Whether you are one, or have one, or you don't, I hope you enjoy celebrating today those around you who bring life into the world - for that is indeed the most significant thing about a mother, and something that's gifted not only those of us who have gone through labour and childbirth. Women have in them the inherent characteristics of the creator, and he granted us that gift, the gift of giving life, of creation, of bringing life into the world. We can do this with our words, our friendships, our personality's, and our homes. May you all feel blessed and noticed today, beautiful life-giving women.

Sarah xx

Death, fear, and the promised land

Source: inspirationfeed.com via Sarah on PInterest

I have spent the last month away on "holiday" (in inverted comma's because, really, can you holiday with 2 pre-schoolers?) in Auckland and Northland. I have spent a portion of it fighting off the usual bouts of depressing mental scenarios of death and the subsequent consequences on my family and friends. If this sounds a bit morbid and mildly insane, I justify it by saying that 8 years ago I lost a very dear friend far too young on the Northland roads. She was almost 19, I was 22. My closest friend's younger sister. Her death dealt a blow to my faith and my life which I have never recovered from -and I hope I never do, because her death taught me so much and was the event which propelled me into this crazy journey from fear, anger, and doubt to discovery and a journey towards becoming more fully who God has always intended me to be. It's however an odd and unsettling thing that driving those roads, I can't help but think things that I usually manage to keep at bay.

To give a bit of background, for the 3 years after Erin's death I became, I'm not sure obsessed is the right word, but certainly overwhelmed by fear and thoughts of death. It was a horrible time (and weirdly, a wonderful time, as that year was the year my future husband and I were courting, to use an old-fashioned word, and he was a rock for me). 3 weeks after Erin died, another good friend lost a younger sister to a brain tumor - she was 15. That year we lost at least 2 family members. When you have to deal with so much grief in such a short space of time it feels like your heart has been through one of those old fashioned wringer washing machines. I got sick, my body sort of shut down on me, and I couldn't climb out of the blackness in my heart. I was filled with the "why?" and the "how could you let this happen?" and "but you promised you would look after us?", "you promised that you would answer our prayers?", and the clincher "People who love God are meant to have things work out for them!" It was most certainly not meant to be like it was. Death, despair, depression. Around every corner. 

Cutting a long story short (the journey of it all may be for another time), I got through those days. Years. It has been amazing, in the end. I'm astounded by my God and his redeeming power (hence my blog title). 

So this most recent summer holiday, I was going through some depressing scenarios in my head involving funerals and what-if's. There was a horrific news item just the week earlier about a young girl being attacked in a camping ground, and that wasn't helping my state of mind at all. However instead of blaming God and fighting him, as I once would have, I pressed in and tried to seek him through the stuff going on inside me. I also read a couple of awesome books which were just right for me. One was "The Shack" which people either love or totally hate, that's fine. It was what I needed and touched me, so I will leave it at that - read it and make your own assumptions! But I will talk about the other book, "One in a million" by Priscilla Shirer who is an American preacher/teacher from Texas. 

The premise of the book is a very detailed break-down of the book of Exodus, from the Israelites journey from slavery in Egypt to the wandering in the wilderness and then the promised land. From 2 million people, only 2 made it from Egypt to see the promised land. The book is about that - how to be the "One in a million". The ones who get to see the promised land and don't just die out in the wilderness. 

It was an incredible read. Often it's not that bad in the wilderness. Just sort of average, fine, sometimes quite good actually. In her words: "Too many believers... get settled and content on the outer fringes of abundant life, feeling as thought they've got all of God they really want or need. They're pretty much OK with the way things are, not really believing or even desiring more than what just comes from showing up dressed every morning. In fact, if they were being perfectly honest, they think that people who do venture out boldly with God are taking this faith things a little too far, to the point of being foolish. They'd be a bit embarrassed, frankly, to carry on like that." 

Source: http://needasweetdistraction.tumblr.com/ via Sarah at PInterest

For myself, so much of the book rang true. Because I so deeply long to go past the average and the usual with my life as a follower of Christ. I don't want to just live year after year going to church on Sunday, feeling guilty about not reading my bible or praying, being a good neighbour, trying not to swear or commit any other obvious "sin" all the while committing plenty of not-so-obvious ones. I don't say this stuff to stand in judgement on anyone else. I just feel like there is more and we're missing it.  The book didn't hold back in it's blunt assessment of why we get stuck in the same old place for so many years. I learnt so much and here's my main one: Life isn't perfect in the promised land.

So often we have a grass-is-greener mentality on our lives. So many dangerous and pointless words we preach to ourselves: "if only...", "once I have done...", "if I just had that..." then my life would be better. Then I'd feel better. Then I'd get myself sorted out. If my husband changed, then life would feel better. If my kids slept through the night, then I'd think about reading my bible again. I'm just going to enjoy my life for a few more years before I get serious with God. Every time I try to be a good Christian, someone else messes up and no one cares so why should I try so hard? And know this, I am so talking about myself here. "If only our house was finished, then I'd be more hospitable and welcome people into my life". "Once I've lost weigh then I'll feel better about myself". "It's just not realistic to spend heaps of time with God when you've got young kids and you're tired". "Well I know those books do have some stuff in them that isn't great, but the story telling is so wonderful and people would think I was a dork if I got rid of them". All just rubbish that holds us back. I can't say it as good as she can, so I highly recommend you read the book. 

The promised land for the Israelites was not easy. It wasn't free from troubles. There was war, battles, conflict. But they were in God's will. From the book again: "Promised land living. This is what it looks like. Not easy chairs. Not happy-go-lucky. NO, it's something far superior to that. Promised land living is power, confidence, endurance, thankfulness. It's boldness that can't be shaken by anything, even when an earthquake is erupting all around you. No matter the noise level and magnitude. It's forgiveness, freedom, full-expectation. It's strapping on the armour and daring any devil in hell to try defeating what God is accomplishing in you."

And through the bible you see this. I realised in the years after Erin's death that I had always remembered the good parts of the scriptures and not the other parts. But we can't take that stuff out of context and then yell at God "But you promised to protect me!". Here are some examples. 

Psalm 91: ... Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor fear the dangers of the day, nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday. Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you. But you will see it with your eyes..."

I don't know about you, but if I had terrors at night, dangers during the day, plagues, disasters, thousands falling and dying around me - I wouldn't feel like God was with me. I wouldn't feel like I was in the promised land. But you can't read a psalm like that and just put "When you call on me, I will answer, I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue them and honour them" on your fridge and ignore the rest. 

Jesus himself told us what to expect in John 17: "When the world hates you, remember it hated me before it hated you. The world would love you if you belonged to it, but you don't. I chose you to come out of the world, and so it hates you... Since they persecuted me, naturally they will persecute you... The people of the world will hate you because you belong to me, for they don't know God who sent me"

And at the end of that is one of my most loved verses of all time, when Jesus says to them: "Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world".

Paul in Phillippians talks about learning to get along with food or without, with nothing or with everything. When I have no food I can't say that I feel particularly joyful or thankful. And the faith chapter, Hebrews 11, lists all the awful things that these people of faith endured. Including being sawed in half , chained in dungeons, and having their backs cut open with whips. Nope, not the promised land by our usual standards.
The grass isn't greener. You can move town, divorce your husband, get a new job, cut your hair, lose weight, and none of it will make a bit of difference if on the inside you stay the same. What matters is our heart, our attitude, and our relationship with our maker. When we start with this stuff, we are in a better place to appreciate the blessings when they do come, and we can endure and be thankful during the trials. I'm on a journey to this place, and I'm determined to see it through. My fears include the fear of alienating people close to me by being "too Christian". Argh. I hate that one. I'm not sorry, I am not going to compromise in order to make sure that everyone else around me feels ok about where they are at. I am sorry though if I lose people close to me because of it. But "one in a million" is going to be a lonely place and I want to go beyond the drudgery that sometimes normal life can be. I'm scaring myself writing these words. I am grateful that I serve a God of grace, who is good, and who loves me, and who will take my hand and lead me through as I continue on this journey of being a follower of Jesus.
I hope this has served as a start for a lot of thinking and praying, and that it inspires someone. Don't let it drive you to guilt because that's not of God and it's not going to do any good. God is with you on your journey too.
Sarah xxx