Recently I have had the opportunity to visit the inside of a big house. And when I say big house, I really mean it. Think big enough to host a party of 50 people and not feel overcrowded. Think big enough to house a family of 5 and still feel like you are surrounded by great open spaces. Think big enough to keep a concert piano and a fantastic 3-piece-suite and a coal fire and a long, spacious toilet (which is one of several) like the kind you would expect to find in a restaurant. I'm talking BIG.
It's started me thinking. Would I ever like to have a big house? Would I be happy with so many possessions and space and facilities to meet my every need? Well let's not be over-analytical straight away, and let's say that at face value I can't help thinking that it might be quite nice. What would I do with a big house? How would having plenty help me in the longrun?
Good questions! If I had a big house... first off, I'd have parties. Lots of them. On Friday nights and Saturday nights there would be hoards of my friends around tables set up with buffet food and drinks in abundance, some good quality music coming through good-quality speakers, laughter and chatting and maybe some games... I wouldn't have to worry about making too much of a mess, because as part of the package deal (of having a big house and the lifestyle that goes with it) I would have a cleaner. Or maybe even a hired-help.
I would like to think that I would have an open-door policy where my friends could feel free to drop in whenever they wanted, so long as I was at home. Or even if I wasn', they could at least make use of the facilities; have a can of coke, borrow a book from my extensive library, look inside my extensive wardrobe for something to borrow for a special dinner... And of course I would have a few guest rooms and people staying frequently, especially over weekends or holidays.
It sounds quite nice, truth to be told! Imagine full cupbaords all the time, coffee hot and ready to be served at any given moment, friends happily tinkling on my concert piano, evenings writing songs with my fancy guitar in my studio...
But let's not get carried away. I set out to write this with the intention of focusing on the inconveniences of this kind of lifestlye. That's not to say that if ever I had the opportunity to live in a big house I wouldn't take it, or enjoy it. Perhaps I will. Who knows. But let's look at the other side; the off-puters.
First off-puter; the organising that would have to go into it! To have that kind of house one would need a good deal of money, so the money would have to be managed, bills payed and accounts balanced with great care. I'm sure that would take long hours and considerable stress. And who wants premature wrinkles.
Then of course, with the open-door policy thing and frequent parties, one would have to be careful that enough time was left to be alone and have often needful evenings of doing-nothingess or being alone with God (or with Skype, or a good film...)
Then I suppose there would be the danger of wanting even more things, or an even bigger house. Since we all seem to suffer from the 'the grass must be greener on the other side' syndrome, perhaps I wouldn't be able to settle for only one guest room or one flat-screen TV set. Maybe I would want a conservatory built onto the front of the house, or one of the bedrooms turned into a room for my dog(s), or the living-room divided into two so that I could make my own gymnasium; I'm sure my spontaneous creative ideas would be numerous and more and more expensive. Then what would happen to that extra money I'd put aside for a rainy day? Would it gradually dry up? (Pardon the pun!)
And what about the evenings when I was alone for whatever reason? Would the house be so big that I would feel swallowed up in it, and even more alone than if I had been in some small studio, all cosied-up on my small couch next to a heater, not having to think about leaving the key for the cleaner-lady who was coming in the morning?...
So maybe there are perks to having a big house, but there seem to be many cons, too. But maybe more perks. Hang on, does this mean I want a big house?
OK, so finally, I would have to say that having a big house isn't my goal, but I think that if I had one, I wouldn't cry myself to sleep every night.
And that's my thoughts on big houses.
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
My Desert Place
Looks like this blog is starting to become a kind of spiritual journal too... a day in the life of a day in the life of Nicola trying to get better acquainted with God... and hoping to move on in my Christian walk.
I hope that what I say, however negative it might seem at face-value, might encourage some people besides myself.
Basically, to be honest, I feel like my Christian walk has led me into something of a desert place. It's been like this for many months, perhaps even a year. But it's not hopeless. Of course I would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of a dry place, where all I can see is miles and miles of nothingness and when I feel like my 'flask' is always verging on running dry and there is often nobody there to guide me or keep me company, but I know that like all seasons in life, this one will pass. I know and believe (or at least have faith and am working towards the belief and knowledge) that God's going to bring me out into a place which is better than my wildest imaginings. I believe He's got some wonderful things in store for me, like He has for all of His children! I believe they are wonderful plans filled with goodness, to bless me and make me a blessing to many, many other people.
I believe God's hand is on me to do me good. (Nehemiah 2:18). And I also believe that even in this place -where I won't deny I often feel like lying down and giving up, or running a million miles in the opposite direction!- God will "cause waters to flow out of the rock for (me!)" (Isaiah 48:2). If there's only a couple of things I can take positively from this season in my life, still they exist, and they are that my faith is increasing, and so is my hunger and thirst for God. I know that I can't survive just now without Him. Every moment, when the pain is throbbing in my heart, when my head is swimming with troublesome thoughts I can't control, when I feel alone and even rejected and betrayed, I need to depend on Him to get me through. I can only function in His strength. Brokeness keeps me lying at the foot of His cross where only His grace is enough for me.
This is not the end of my story. I just need to hold on. And when I think I can't even do that, God will hold me up. I know He's going to give me a song, even in this desert place; a song which won't be silenced until eternity. One day it'll be songs of exultant rejoicing over what God did for me, even at this difficult time in my life.
P.s. If anyone feels to remember me in their prayers, remember me in your prayers!
I hope that what I say, however negative it might seem at face-value, might encourage some people besides myself.
Basically, to be honest, I feel like my Christian walk has led me into something of a desert place. It's been like this for many months, perhaps even a year. But it's not hopeless. Of course I would rather be anywhere else than in the middle of a dry place, where all I can see is miles and miles of nothingness and when I feel like my 'flask' is always verging on running dry and there is often nobody there to guide me or keep me company, but I know that like all seasons in life, this one will pass. I know and believe (or at least have faith and am working towards the belief and knowledge) that God's going to bring me out into a place which is better than my wildest imaginings. I believe He's got some wonderful things in store for me, like He has for all of His children! I believe they are wonderful plans filled with goodness, to bless me and make me a blessing to many, many other people.
I believe God's hand is on me to do me good. (Nehemiah 2:18). And I also believe that even in this place -where I won't deny I often feel like lying down and giving up, or running a million miles in the opposite direction!- God will "cause waters to flow out of the rock for (me!)" (Isaiah 48:2). If there's only a couple of things I can take positively from this season in my life, still they exist, and they are that my faith is increasing, and so is my hunger and thirst for God. I know that I can't survive just now without Him. Every moment, when the pain is throbbing in my heart, when my head is swimming with troublesome thoughts I can't control, when I feel alone and even rejected and betrayed, I need to depend on Him to get me through. I can only function in His strength. Brokeness keeps me lying at the foot of His cross where only His grace is enough for me.
This is not the end of my story. I just need to hold on. And when I think I can't even do that, God will hold me up. I know He's going to give me a song, even in this desert place; a song which won't be silenced until eternity. One day it'll be songs of exultant rejoicing over what God did for me, even at this difficult time in my life.
P.s. If anyone feels to remember me in their prayers, remember me in your prayers!
Tuesday, 31 January 2012
Belt of Truth
In Youth Group on Sunday, we were looking at the issue of 'evil' and its impact on us as Christians. Although, as we explained, we should never spend too much time dwelling on the devil and his work (since why would we want to pay attention to such a loser?), the reality is that he is real and his dark work continues and will until the day Jesus finally crushes him under our feet, once and for all. (Romans 16:20)
I think one thing the devil tries to do to every Christian is distort our view of God. He does it to non-believers too, blinding them entirely from seeing the truth, making our loving Father seem so distant, so Holy, so demanding or downright awful that we find it difficult to come to Him and have life.
It must be no light think when God tells us to take up His armour:
"Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.
"Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.
"And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints...." Ephesians 6:10-18
It seems to me that more than ever we need to, as Christians seeking to live in God's victory, really do our part and take up this armour of God which has been provided for us. We need to 'gird our waist' with truth. What is the truth? Well we know that Jesus is the ultimate Truth. (John 14:6)And all His promises which come to us through His word are the truth. When God speaks, we need to hold onto the promise and never let go. The devil will pull and tug, but he will be defeated. We need to look to God's way of doing warfare. We can't do it on our own, but fortunately God is so much stronger than out wildest imaginings that we can completely trust Him to bring us through.
I don't know about you, but sometimes I just feel like I'm doing little more than standing. Like I'm tottering, about to fall over. I don't feel like I have the strength to keep on fighting. When God's preparing you for something special, I tihnk that's when the devil comes in the most to try and discourage. We can even discourage ourselves quite easily, I think, without the devil's help! I think whoever said 'we are our own worst enemy' was quite right.
I think it's time to stop agreeing with the devil, or even our own negative, discouraging voice, and trust that we have what it takes! We can come out victorious. Maybe we're going through some difficult things. Maybe we feel like we've hit a brick wall. But if we just stand, and having done all, stand...
I believe God will never forsake us. Even if we feel like He isn't coming. Even when we feel like everything is about to cave in and we're going to snap. We've all been there. But God's never failed us, and He won't now!
So stand! Stand on the promises of God and His truth. Feelings are always changing, but God's truth doesn't! If you can only hold onto one thing, hold onto this: God loves you, and He'll come through for you.
I think one thing the devil tries to do to every Christian is distort our view of God. He does it to non-believers too, blinding them entirely from seeing the truth, making our loving Father seem so distant, so Holy, so demanding or downright awful that we find it difficult to come to Him and have life.
It must be no light think when God tells us to take up His armour:
"Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.
"Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.
"And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints...." Ephesians 6:10-18
It seems to me that more than ever we need to, as Christians seeking to live in God's victory, really do our part and take up this armour of God which has been provided for us. We need to 'gird our waist' with truth. What is the truth? Well we know that Jesus is the ultimate Truth. (John 14:6)And all His promises which come to us through His word are the truth. When God speaks, we need to hold onto the promise and never let go. The devil will pull and tug, but he will be defeated. We need to look to God's way of doing warfare. We can't do it on our own, but fortunately God is so much stronger than out wildest imaginings that we can completely trust Him to bring us through.
I don't know about you, but sometimes I just feel like I'm doing little more than standing. Like I'm tottering, about to fall over. I don't feel like I have the strength to keep on fighting. When God's preparing you for something special, I tihnk that's when the devil comes in the most to try and discourage. We can even discourage ourselves quite easily, I think, without the devil's help! I think whoever said 'we are our own worst enemy' was quite right.
I think it's time to stop agreeing with the devil, or even our own negative, discouraging voice, and trust that we have what it takes! We can come out victorious. Maybe we're going through some difficult things. Maybe we feel like we've hit a brick wall. But if we just stand, and having done all, stand...
I believe God will never forsake us. Even if we feel like He isn't coming. Even when we feel like everything is about to cave in and we're going to snap. We've all been there. But God's never failed us, and He won't now!
So stand! Stand on the promises of God and His truth. Feelings are always changing, but God's truth doesn't! If you can only hold onto one thing, hold onto this: God loves you, and He'll come through for you.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
De l'eau pour les éléphants
J'ai vu ce beau film lundi et je veux parler du message que j'en ai déduit. Simplement dit, l'histoire est celle d'un jeune bel homme (Robert Pattinson) qui entre dans le cirque parce que ses parents sont morts. Il travaille avec les animaux là-bas comme il avait été étudiant vétérinaire. Le patron du cirque est méchant avec les animaux, et il bat même l'éléphant, Rosie, alors pour qu'elle l'obéisse.
Le personnage qui est joué par Robert Pattinson tombe amoureux d'une jeune femme qui est déjà mariée (Reese Witherspoon). Cependant, ils sont ensemble par la fin du film parce que le mari-méchant meurt.
Ce que j'ai appris est ceci. Rosie ne répond pas quand le patron la bat. En fait, c'est le contraire. Elle a peur et elle devient furieuse. Elle n'obéit pas. Ce n'est que quand le patron lui parle dans sa propre langue qu'elle va l'écouter. Pour moi, le message est le suivant. Si on veut que quelqu'un fasse quelque chose, qu'il change ou qu'il nous obéisse, il faut parler sa langue. La langue de l'amour est beaucoup plus forte que celle de la violence.
Le personnage qui est joué par Robert Pattinson tombe amoureux d'une jeune femme qui est déjà mariée (Reese Witherspoon). Cependant, ils sont ensemble par la fin du film parce que le mari-méchant meurt.
Ce que j'ai appris est ceci. Rosie ne répond pas quand le patron la bat. En fait, c'est le contraire. Elle a peur et elle devient furieuse. Elle n'obéit pas. Ce n'est que quand le patron lui parle dans sa propre langue qu'elle va l'écouter. Pour moi, le message est le suivant. Si on veut que quelqu'un fasse quelque chose, qu'il change ou qu'il nous obéisse, il faut parler sa langue. La langue de l'amour est beaucoup plus forte que celle de la violence.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Future Plans
I've just got back from a short break to London with my mum, which has been beneficial for many reasons: I got to catch up with my mum, whom I hadn't seen in person since Christmas, it was a complete change and break away from my normal routine, I was able to really catch up on some sleep, and I also got to see one of my best friends who came down to meet me for the afternoon from her university in Wales. I stayed in a four-star hotel in the area of London known as 'Kensington', whose name I refuse to give a nasal 'ng' sound when I pronounce it. Even though I've been corrected many times.
Part of our schedule included a shopping and Starbucks-trip to Oxford street, a delicious hotel fish-and-chips meal, two English-style cooked breakfasts, a trip to the Natural History Museum and lots of blethering!
One of the revelations I had during my break-away was something that every Christian brought-up-as-a-Christian has been taught since they were knee-high. Namely, that you shouldn't worry. Especially not about the future, since, as the cliché reminds us, "God is already there". I realised that, like I had heard in a sermon at church the Sunday before, that for many weeks I'd been living too far ahead of myself. What do I mean by this? Basically, I'd always been planning for the next deadline or event, trying to keep up with demands which were mostly self-imposed, and not being able to fully enjoy the moment.
I decided that I needed to focus on each day at a time, and only what I had to do in the next 12 hours. I needed to free myself up a little more and give myself time and room to relax and enjoy life. After all, being a student means two things. Work, of course, but also time to develop and enjoy hobbies and interests, time to meet and get to know friends better, even time to travel a little. Now I'm not saying I'm a workaholic or not able to enjoy myself. That's definetely not true, but I think that sometimes I can tend to bite off a little more than I can chew. I needed to remind myself again that all the 'have to dos' and 'must dos' can really only be done in God's grace, and he only gives us grace for each moment- not for something that's going to happen in 6 weeks time, or even next week or tomorrow. So actually there's no point in wasting any anxious thought over tomorrow. Of course it's good to plan ahead, but the NOW is far more important than the THEN. In the NOW we have the friends which belong to our present, the enjoyments of the present, and the God of the present, and we need to slow down and enjoy these. The present is indeed a gift, which so often goes to waste.
Since our future's safe in God's hands, why shouldn't we enjoy the present? I've decided I'm going to enjoy it. Fighting anxiety is something many people have to do, but I think it's definetely worth it.
Part of our schedule included a shopping and Starbucks-trip to Oxford street, a delicious hotel fish-and-chips meal, two English-style cooked breakfasts, a trip to the Natural History Museum and lots of blethering!
One of the revelations I had during my break-away was something that every Christian brought-up-as-a-Christian has been taught since they were knee-high. Namely, that you shouldn't worry. Especially not about the future, since, as the cliché reminds us, "God is already there". I realised that, like I had heard in a sermon at church the Sunday before, that for many weeks I'd been living too far ahead of myself. What do I mean by this? Basically, I'd always been planning for the next deadline or event, trying to keep up with demands which were mostly self-imposed, and not being able to fully enjoy the moment.
I decided that I needed to focus on each day at a time, and only what I had to do in the next 12 hours. I needed to free myself up a little more and give myself time and room to relax and enjoy life. After all, being a student means two things. Work, of course, but also time to develop and enjoy hobbies and interests, time to meet and get to know friends better, even time to travel a little. Now I'm not saying I'm a workaholic or not able to enjoy myself. That's definetely not true, but I think that sometimes I can tend to bite off a little more than I can chew. I needed to remind myself again that all the 'have to dos' and 'must dos' can really only be done in God's grace, and he only gives us grace for each moment- not for something that's going to happen in 6 weeks time, or even next week or tomorrow. So actually there's no point in wasting any anxious thought over tomorrow. Of course it's good to plan ahead, but the NOW is far more important than the THEN. In the NOW we have the friends which belong to our present, the enjoyments of the present, and the God of the present, and we need to slow down and enjoy these. The present is indeed a gift, which so often goes to waste.
Since our future's safe in God's hands, why shouldn't we enjoy the present? I've decided I'm going to enjoy it. Fighting anxiety is something many people have to do, but I think it's definetely worth it.
Friday, 25 February 2011
A Scottish Christmas
So I thought I’d take advantage of my exceedingly-precious, three-week Christmas holiday and do a bit more blogging. What a better way to begin again than by writing about my time back in Scotland. This is my first time home since last Christmas, so I suspect I will almost feel a bit like a tourist for a few days. I’m very excited to see my family and friends, some of which I haven’t seen for a year, and to spend a relaxing few days resting and enjoying myself. I just need to remember that ‘aye’ means ‘yes’, that one doesn’t need to put quite so much milk in one’s coffee to make it palatable, and that cars drive on the left-hand side of the road, so when I cross the road I’ll have to look right-left-right instead of left-right-left! (Or is it right-left-right in Britain? Hmmmm, I’m confused already!)
23rd December 2010
I’m currently sitting on the Eurostar, going through the ‘Chunnel’, or Channel Tunnel, on my way to London. Due to the heavy snowfall of the last few days, especially in Belgium, but also in Lille, the Eurostar service has been running rather spasmodically and unreliably. Many people have found getting back to Britain a bit of a task. However, with only (!) a 2 hour delay, I’m safely aboard and on my way home. I’ll miss my original connection at London Euston, but that’s OK because the Virgin Train service has announced that for today and tomorrow, passengers with non-refundable tickets (this includes me) can actually travel on any Virgin train at any time. This is good news. So I’m convinced I’ll actually be home tonight. A nice old lady at Gare Lille Europe told me that if the train is 2 hours late, passengers are usually entitled to a free ticket. As to whether this situation counts or not, I’m not quite sure. Should the Eurostar Service be held accountable for the snow? On the other hand, should passengers be forced to wait more than 2 hours? There is a fine line here; has Eurostar crossed it or not? Hmmm, this is the question.
In some ways it’s hard to believe I’m actually headed back to Scotland. Sitting here somewhere between France and England, I’m reminded of the fact that Scotland isn’t exactly on France’s doorstep. I think it’s amazing that I can feel so at home in a land which is so far away from the land of my origins. But I do. I suppose that’s because ‘home is where the heart is’, and my heart is with those who I love in whichever place that may be; whether it’s France or Scotland. However, there are certainly things about Scotland which I’ve missed. Starbucks, Primark, and Mum-cooked dinners, for example.
Glasgow, j’arrive!
I missed my initial connection at London Euston as foretold, but was able to get the train an hour later. While the train was being prepared, I treated my hungry stomach to some sandwiches and a coffee from Costa. I was overwhelmed by the sheer wonderfulness of my coffee. I ordered one of my preferences- a chai tea latte with soy milk. I chose the medium size, but the medium is already double or even triple the size of the biggest-sized coffee in France. It was hot, milky and spicy and I felt like I was drinking Christmas itself. I have missed a good British coffee.
Since my ticket was for the previous train, I no longer held a reserved seat, so when I first got on I had to sit by a door. I wasn’t looking forward to spending 5 hours like that, but I thought, well, at least I’m getting home! However, a member of staff found me and another girl who sat by the other door, and told us there were spare seats in the next carriage we could have. I was very grateful. I even got to take advantage of some of the (although less-than-perfect) free internet connection. I passed my time a little online, sleeping, reading a magazine I found on the seat next to me, and trying to work out in which part of Britain we were.
Once we were in Scotland two men got on and sat diagonally opposite me. They had distinct broad Glaswegian voices with- shall we say- much colourful language. I thought to myself, yes, I am back in Scotland indeed.
It was so lovely to see my mum and sister when I got off of the train at Glasgow Central. We took the train back to Port Glasgow where Mum bought me a Chinese for my dinner. We took it home and I was reunited with the house, which I was disturbingly disorientated in for a little while. I tried to throw a dirty tissue in a wall-paper paste can and couldn’t find cups. I also made acquaintance with the newest addition to the family- my sister’s hamster, Fudge- and was reacquainted with our elderly dog, Penny. At first she didn’t recognize me and growled and cowered away, but gradually she’s getting used to me again.
Then it was upstairs to bed, lovingly pre-made by my mother and covered with the pretty covers I had gotten for my 18th birthday. This was after being reunited with certain pieces of jewellery and clothing which I’d sadly left behind in life.
Christmas Eve, 2010
I woke up this morning in my room in Scotland. It was a peculiar feeling. It was my room, but at the same it wasn’t any more.
In the morning, my sister and I went for a walk to the massive Tesco Extra which is only a five minute walk away from our house by the sea in Port Glasgow. As I walked along the promenade and was able to look over the clear, sapphire-blue water to the snow-topped mountains, I was reminded of Scotland’s beauty. I took plenty of photographs.
Walking into Tesco was also a peculiar experience. It was a massive store filled with every item you could ever wish to buy, for almost half the price of some things you find in France. There were happily-familiar items and the items which I’d even forgotten existed. I was struck with the apparent more luxurious lifestyle of the British. Almost all houses- even in the notorious and less-than-well-off Port Glasgow- are equipped with dishwashers and have double or even triple-glazed windows.
People were bustling about Tesco in a desperate rush to buy last-minute food items and presents for the next day, because it’s clear that Christmas- or at least the trappings of Christmas- are observed more in Britain than in France. And what was even more striking was the constant stream of broad Port-glaswegian. This is stronger and even less comprehendible than Glaswegian. It isn’t a very pretty dialect, I don’t think.
Melissa and I bought the ingredients necessary to make chocolate-fridge cake; a recipe which I’ve invented and wanted to teach my sister how to make, and also to take some to the cottage which we’re spending Christmas in. Mum had bought the vegetables to take for Christmas dinner and some dessert, and my mum’s best friend and my non-official Aunty Darlene and dear friend Becky (her daughter) would be providing all the meat and other trappings, but I felt I wanted to contribute something. We took all the ingredients back home and knocked some chocolate-fridge cake together, then went about packing for going away.
We’re spending Christmas in a lovely cottage in the North-central town of Pitlocherie. My non-official Aunty Darlene works for the Church of Scotland and this cottage- which is connected with a church and the manse- is provided as a holiday cottage for their workers. She and Becky went up last Wednesday, managing to get there despite the snow, and have been there since. It’s a lovely cottage, hidden away from most civilization, except from the beautiful church building and manse.
Pitlocherie is a town, but the cottage is set apart from it. It’s surrounded by woodland and fields, with highland cows and pigs in a field nearby, beautiful snowy-hills in the distance, with cold, clear tap-water coming from a well, and the smell and feel of the countryside. When you look out of the window, you feel like you’re looking out over a scene from Narnia, with the fir trees all covered in a fine dusting of snow like icing-sugar.
It took us a little over 2 hours to get there. When we arrived, I was very excited because I was looking forward to seeing Darlene and Becky for the first time in a year. It didn’t take long before I felt like it had been no time at all. To me they didn’t seem to have changed much at all, and we started back where we had left off. They feel, however, that I’ve changed quite a lot in a positive way. There was much hugging at our reunion.
Becky had made some pasta which we received gratefully, then Darlene, Becky and I headed out for the Carol Service at the church. I was so happy to be able to go to a carol service on Christmas Eve. The church is very tiny but sweet, and quite a handful of people turned up for the service, even though it lies in such a secluded area. Becky and I were asked to help light some candles. There was much caroling and passage-reading, and the peace of the Prince of Peace touched my heart again, amidst this busy, yet wonderful season. After the service we retired to the cottage, only to discover that there had been a power cut!
However, an electrician was called in, and since the power cut had affected our neighbours who have a baby, he was quick to come and fix the problem. We were happy to have it sorted for cooking the next day, but going about in candlelight for a short time had actually been rather lovely- heightening the Christmassy-feel of the evening.
Christmas Day, 2010
I woke up on Christmas Day with Aunty Darlene pulling open the curtain in front of my bed to expose the beautiful white wonderland which was outside. I got ready and then joined Mum and Becky for some breakfast. Once everybody was up, we gathered in the sitting-room to open Christmas presents. I had wrapped my presents the night before and added them to the massive collection which were piled under the little Christmas tree. As an aside, the Church of Scotland kindly donated the little Christmas tree to Aunty Darlene because there wasn’t one in the cottage. We wrapped some red ribbon around it and I put some golden chocolate coins amongst the branches and it actually looks quite attractive now.
Anyway, every one of us was completely overwhelmed by the quantity and quality of the gifts we received. I got some beautiful tops and a lovely dress, a handbag, a couple of perfumes, some jewellery, some cuddly toys, some craft stuff; everything a girl could ever ask for, actually! The gift opening lasted for quite some time. After we were tidied up and ready for action, we headed into the kitchen, two or three at a time, to prepare a laid-back Christmas dinner.
Christmas-dinner convenience is the way forward I reckon. Darlene cooked the turkey in a roasting bag; a trick which my mum has discovered in recent years. As a result, the turkey turned out to be the most delicious tasting turkey we’d ever eaten. There was also ham and plenty of vegetables. I dealt with the parsnips and roast potatoes, while Mum dealt with the sprouts and carrots, Becky with the ham and helpful cooking suggestions. Becky is a naturally-born cook. I sometimes tend to lack a measure of common sense in the kitchen, but what I lack in this respect, I make up for in creativity. No-one even suspected that I had never tried frying parsnips in honey before. Little did they know…
We had a delicious mid-afternoon dinner. We had plenty and there was plenty to spare. Everything tasted surprisingly good considering the lack of stress that had gone into preparing it! We were so full up afterwards that dessert was out of the question for a few hours anyway. Oh, and we drunk a lot of Shloer; a treat that tends to only happen once year.
In the evening we watched two ‘Santa Claus’ movies, had lots of teas and coffees, and finally ate dessert. Becky, Darlene and I also spent a lot of time in conversation. Needless to say we didn’t go to bed very early, but when I finally did, I must have gone out like a light. It had been a long yet lovely day, doing lots of nothing-much.
Boxing Day, 2010
On Boxing Day, like the previous morning, we got up quite slowly. As tends to happen with Darlene, she had already established a friendship with the cottage’s caretaker, a lovely woman in her sixties, who came to join us for breakfast. So when I finally appeared for breakfast, I joined her and my mum at the table, while Becky, bless her cotton socks, prepared us a cooked breakfast.
It turns out that this lady is bilingual in French and English and spent some years in France, in a very similar way to me. She went out as an assistant for one year and tried to renew but it didn’t work. So she went out some years later to work with Eurostar. She was actually there at the time of the ‘Chunnel’s’ construction.
Like me, this lady got involved with an English speaking church while she was in France. She loves translation and worked as a translator, too. She was very keen to hear about my life in France, about my flat and the food and the friends I’d made. I enjoyed sharing with her.
After a cooked breakfast, the lady decided to leave but gave us some directions in how to get to some nice grounds for walking on. Almost immediately, all five of us plus dog piled into my mum’s Yaris and we headed towards the Duke of Apple’s land in Blair Atholl.
Blair Atholl Castle is impressive although not overwhelmingly big. Like the lady had promised, the grounds around were extensive and beautiful. We walked along a woodland path, with the hore frost making it look as though we were in some kind of enchanted forest, and then along the edge of the walled-in castle gardens. There was a peculiar statue of Hercules and a lion, as well as many pretty little bridges. There was hardly anyone about at the castle, except from a family whose children were playing on a sledge. The grounds were perfect for sledging. I envied them there sledge on a day like it was.
When we got back home, I used a little of the German chocolate which I had bought in Aachen to give to people as presents to make some hot chocolate. We watched another movie and relaxed beside the crackling coal-fire, which Becky has become an expert in lighting and dealing with. On Christmas morning I’d tried putting some Christmas paper balls into the fire but the result had been somewhat disastrous, so from that point on I was banned from any dealings with it.
For dinner, Melissa and I helped Mum make her traditional Boxing-Dinner; Cranberry Turkey. It’s one of my favourite meals and it uses up left-over turkey as well as left-over cranberry sauce. The caretaker lady joined us again for dinner, then we retreated into the sitting-room to chat. I decided to take an early-bed since I’d been lulled into a sleepy stupor by the heat and the food.
23rd December 2010
I’m currently sitting on the Eurostar, going through the ‘Chunnel’, or Channel Tunnel, on my way to London. Due to the heavy snowfall of the last few days, especially in Belgium, but also in Lille, the Eurostar service has been running rather spasmodically and unreliably. Many people have found getting back to Britain a bit of a task. However, with only (!) a 2 hour delay, I’m safely aboard and on my way home. I’ll miss my original connection at London Euston, but that’s OK because the Virgin Train service has announced that for today and tomorrow, passengers with non-refundable tickets (this includes me) can actually travel on any Virgin train at any time. This is good news. So I’m convinced I’ll actually be home tonight. A nice old lady at Gare Lille Europe told me that if the train is 2 hours late, passengers are usually entitled to a free ticket. As to whether this situation counts or not, I’m not quite sure. Should the Eurostar Service be held accountable for the snow? On the other hand, should passengers be forced to wait more than 2 hours? There is a fine line here; has Eurostar crossed it or not? Hmmm, this is the question.
In some ways it’s hard to believe I’m actually headed back to Scotland. Sitting here somewhere between France and England, I’m reminded of the fact that Scotland isn’t exactly on France’s doorstep. I think it’s amazing that I can feel so at home in a land which is so far away from the land of my origins. But I do. I suppose that’s because ‘home is where the heart is’, and my heart is with those who I love in whichever place that may be; whether it’s France or Scotland. However, there are certainly things about Scotland which I’ve missed. Starbucks, Primark, and Mum-cooked dinners, for example.
Glasgow, j’arrive!
I missed my initial connection at London Euston as foretold, but was able to get the train an hour later. While the train was being prepared, I treated my hungry stomach to some sandwiches and a coffee from Costa. I was overwhelmed by the sheer wonderfulness of my coffee. I ordered one of my preferences- a chai tea latte with soy milk. I chose the medium size, but the medium is already double or even triple the size of the biggest-sized coffee in France. It was hot, milky and spicy and I felt like I was drinking Christmas itself. I have missed a good British coffee.
Since my ticket was for the previous train, I no longer held a reserved seat, so when I first got on I had to sit by a door. I wasn’t looking forward to spending 5 hours like that, but I thought, well, at least I’m getting home! However, a member of staff found me and another girl who sat by the other door, and told us there were spare seats in the next carriage we could have. I was very grateful. I even got to take advantage of some of the (although less-than-perfect) free internet connection. I passed my time a little online, sleeping, reading a magazine I found on the seat next to me, and trying to work out in which part of Britain we were.
Once we were in Scotland two men got on and sat diagonally opposite me. They had distinct broad Glaswegian voices with- shall we say- much colourful language. I thought to myself, yes, I am back in Scotland indeed.
It was so lovely to see my mum and sister when I got off of the train at Glasgow Central. We took the train back to Port Glasgow where Mum bought me a Chinese for my dinner. We took it home and I was reunited with the house, which I was disturbingly disorientated in for a little while. I tried to throw a dirty tissue in a wall-paper paste can and couldn’t find cups. I also made acquaintance with the newest addition to the family- my sister’s hamster, Fudge- and was reacquainted with our elderly dog, Penny. At first she didn’t recognize me and growled and cowered away, but gradually she’s getting used to me again.
Then it was upstairs to bed, lovingly pre-made by my mother and covered with the pretty covers I had gotten for my 18th birthday. This was after being reunited with certain pieces of jewellery and clothing which I’d sadly left behind in life.
Christmas Eve, 2010
I woke up this morning in my room in Scotland. It was a peculiar feeling. It was my room, but at the same it wasn’t any more.
In the morning, my sister and I went for a walk to the massive Tesco Extra which is only a five minute walk away from our house by the sea in Port Glasgow. As I walked along the promenade and was able to look over the clear, sapphire-blue water to the snow-topped mountains, I was reminded of Scotland’s beauty. I took plenty of photographs.
Walking into Tesco was also a peculiar experience. It was a massive store filled with every item you could ever wish to buy, for almost half the price of some things you find in France. There were happily-familiar items and the items which I’d even forgotten existed. I was struck with the apparent more luxurious lifestyle of the British. Almost all houses- even in the notorious and less-than-well-off Port Glasgow- are equipped with dishwashers and have double or even triple-glazed windows.
People were bustling about Tesco in a desperate rush to buy last-minute food items and presents for the next day, because it’s clear that Christmas- or at least the trappings of Christmas- are observed more in Britain than in France. And what was even more striking was the constant stream of broad Port-glaswegian. This is stronger and even less comprehendible than Glaswegian. It isn’t a very pretty dialect, I don’t think.
Melissa and I bought the ingredients necessary to make chocolate-fridge cake; a recipe which I’ve invented and wanted to teach my sister how to make, and also to take some to the cottage which we’re spending Christmas in. Mum had bought the vegetables to take for Christmas dinner and some dessert, and my mum’s best friend and my non-official Aunty Darlene and dear friend Becky (her daughter) would be providing all the meat and other trappings, but I felt I wanted to contribute something. We took all the ingredients back home and knocked some chocolate-fridge cake together, then went about packing for going away.
We’re spending Christmas in a lovely cottage in the North-central town of Pitlocherie. My non-official Aunty Darlene works for the Church of Scotland and this cottage- which is connected with a church and the manse- is provided as a holiday cottage for their workers. She and Becky went up last Wednesday, managing to get there despite the snow, and have been there since. It’s a lovely cottage, hidden away from most civilization, except from the beautiful church building and manse.
Pitlocherie is a town, but the cottage is set apart from it. It’s surrounded by woodland and fields, with highland cows and pigs in a field nearby, beautiful snowy-hills in the distance, with cold, clear tap-water coming from a well, and the smell and feel of the countryside. When you look out of the window, you feel like you’re looking out over a scene from Narnia, with the fir trees all covered in a fine dusting of snow like icing-sugar.
It took us a little over 2 hours to get there. When we arrived, I was very excited because I was looking forward to seeing Darlene and Becky for the first time in a year. It didn’t take long before I felt like it had been no time at all. To me they didn’t seem to have changed much at all, and we started back where we had left off. They feel, however, that I’ve changed quite a lot in a positive way. There was much hugging at our reunion.
Becky had made some pasta which we received gratefully, then Darlene, Becky and I headed out for the Carol Service at the church. I was so happy to be able to go to a carol service on Christmas Eve. The church is very tiny but sweet, and quite a handful of people turned up for the service, even though it lies in such a secluded area. Becky and I were asked to help light some candles. There was much caroling and passage-reading, and the peace of the Prince of Peace touched my heart again, amidst this busy, yet wonderful season. After the service we retired to the cottage, only to discover that there had been a power cut!
However, an electrician was called in, and since the power cut had affected our neighbours who have a baby, he was quick to come and fix the problem. We were happy to have it sorted for cooking the next day, but going about in candlelight for a short time had actually been rather lovely- heightening the Christmassy-feel of the evening.
Christmas Day, 2010
I woke up on Christmas Day with Aunty Darlene pulling open the curtain in front of my bed to expose the beautiful white wonderland which was outside. I got ready and then joined Mum and Becky for some breakfast. Once everybody was up, we gathered in the sitting-room to open Christmas presents. I had wrapped my presents the night before and added them to the massive collection which were piled under the little Christmas tree. As an aside, the Church of Scotland kindly donated the little Christmas tree to Aunty Darlene because there wasn’t one in the cottage. We wrapped some red ribbon around it and I put some golden chocolate coins amongst the branches and it actually looks quite attractive now.
Anyway, every one of us was completely overwhelmed by the quantity and quality of the gifts we received. I got some beautiful tops and a lovely dress, a handbag, a couple of perfumes, some jewellery, some cuddly toys, some craft stuff; everything a girl could ever ask for, actually! The gift opening lasted for quite some time. After we were tidied up and ready for action, we headed into the kitchen, two or three at a time, to prepare a laid-back Christmas dinner.
Christmas-dinner convenience is the way forward I reckon. Darlene cooked the turkey in a roasting bag; a trick which my mum has discovered in recent years. As a result, the turkey turned out to be the most delicious tasting turkey we’d ever eaten. There was also ham and plenty of vegetables. I dealt with the parsnips and roast potatoes, while Mum dealt with the sprouts and carrots, Becky with the ham and helpful cooking suggestions. Becky is a naturally-born cook. I sometimes tend to lack a measure of common sense in the kitchen, but what I lack in this respect, I make up for in creativity. No-one even suspected that I had never tried frying parsnips in honey before. Little did they know…
We had a delicious mid-afternoon dinner. We had plenty and there was plenty to spare. Everything tasted surprisingly good considering the lack of stress that had gone into preparing it! We were so full up afterwards that dessert was out of the question for a few hours anyway. Oh, and we drunk a lot of Shloer; a treat that tends to only happen once year.
In the evening we watched two ‘Santa Claus’ movies, had lots of teas and coffees, and finally ate dessert. Becky, Darlene and I also spent a lot of time in conversation. Needless to say we didn’t go to bed very early, but when I finally did, I must have gone out like a light. It had been a long yet lovely day, doing lots of nothing-much.
Boxing Day, 2010
On Boxing Day, like the previous morning, we got up quite slowly. As tends to happen with Darlene, she had already established a friendship with the cottage’s caretaker, a lovely woman in her sixties, who came to join us for breakfast. So when I finally appeared for breakfast, I joined her and my mum at the table, while Becky, bless her cotton socks, prepared us a cooked breakfast.
It turns out that this lady is bilingual in French and English and spent some years in France, in a very similar way to me. She went out as an assistant for one year and tried to renew but it didn’t work. So she went out some years later to work with Eurostar. She was actually there at the time of the ‘Chunnel’s’ construction.
Like me, this lady got involved with an English speaking church while she was in France. She loves translation and worked as a translator, too. She was very keen to hear about my life in France, about my flat and the food and the friends I’d made. I enjoyed sharing with her.
After a cooked breakfast, the lady decided to leave but gave us some directions in how to get to some nice grounds for walking on. Almost immediately, all five of us plus dog piled into my mum’s Yaris and we headed towards the Duke of Apple’s land in Blair Atholl.
Blair Atholl Castle is impressive although not overwhelmingly big. Like the lady had promised, the grounds around were extensive and beautiful. We walked along a woodland path, with the hore frost making it look as though we were in some kind of enchanted forest, and then along the edge of the walled-in castle gardens. There was a peculiar statue of Hercules and a lion, as well as many pretty little bridges. There was hardly anyone about at the castle, except from a family whose children were playing on a sledge. The grounds were perfect for sledging. I envied them there sledge on a day like it was.
When we got back home, I used a little of the German chocolate which I had bought in Aachen to give to people as presents to make some hot chocolate. We watched another movie and relaxed beside the crackling coal-fire, which Becky has become an expert in lighting and dealing with. On Christmas morning I’d tried putting some Christmas paper balls into the fire but the result had been somewhat disastrous, so from that point on I was banned from any dealings with it.
For dinner, Melissa and I helped Mum make her traditional Boxing-Dinner; Cranberry Turkey. It’s one of my favourite meals and it uses up left-over turkey as well as left-over cranberry sauce. The caretaker lady joined us again for dinner, then we retreated into the sitting-room to chat. I decided to take an early-bed since I’d been lulled into a sleepy stupor by the heat and the food.
Friday, 19 November 2010
Just the way you are
I would like to share something that I was thinking about today. I think it is an inspiring topic.
I'm currently listening to "Just the way you are" by Bruno Mars. It's a beautiful song with beautiful words. One line is very lovely indeed: 'If perfect's what you're searching for then just stay the same." The man in the song loves the woman so much that he doesn't see a single flaw in her, even though she probably sees plenty in herself!
Being a woman brings with it very common plaguing fears over, sadly, what we perceive to be our inadequacies. We go through rituals of comparing ourselves to others, fretting over the size of our hips, the spots on our face, the shade of our teeth- the list is endless. And when we feel we have 'worked out' one inadequacy, it won't be long before we're battling with another.
It isn't just in appearance. We worry about out personalities, about being too shy or too loud, or too overbearing, or too weak, or too serious, or too sad; again, the list is endless.
When it comes to being a Christian, I know that I can often do the same thing with my spiritual life. I think about all the mistakes I've made that week or that day, and I compare myself with this person who prays for an hour every morning when I can barely manage more than fifteen minutes at a time, or with somebody else who also seems to be 'doing much more for God' than me, and I wonder how on earth I'll get any better.
Today I had a revelation which, if I endeavour to put into practice as much as possible, I'm sure will sort out my attitudes so that suddenly all these 'plaguing fears' will be put to rest!
I was standing in the queue to buy a sandwhich for my lunch. Suddenly the thought crossed my mind, 'you know, God sees you as perfect.' The Bruno Mars song popped into my head, and particularly that line, 'If perfect's what you're searching for then just stay the same.' I had just been churning over many less-than-happy thoughts about my appearance and inadequacies. I thought, 'nice thought!', but promptly forgot about it as I thought it would take far too much of an effort of faith to thoroughly believe it with all my heart- not just in my head.
Then when I got into the shop, you'll never guess what song was playing! That's right, Bruno Mars, "Just the way you are"! Call me a romantic, call me far-fetched, call me whatever you like!, but I believe that was God speaking to me. He sees me as a perfect, just because I have faith in him.
To me, that song represents how God feels about us. He adores us, and sees no imperfection in us, even though we're fundamentally sinners, and will be untill we die! He just loves us, and that's it.
It's time we- and I- started living in the light of this, and stopped living in the lies which makes us feel so bad about ourselves.
Jesus died for us, so let's not live like we're worthless! We're unique, beautiful, lovely and LOVED. Just the way we are.
I'm currently listening to "Just the way you are" by Bruno Mars. It's a beautiful song with beautiful words. One line is very lovely indeed: 'If perfect's what you're searching for then just stay the same." The man in the song loves the woman so much that he doesn't see a single flaw in her, even though she probably sees plenty in herself!
Being a woman brings with it very common plaguing fears over, sadly, what we perceive to be our inadequacies. We go through rituals of comparing ourselves to others, fretting over the size of our hips, the spots on our face, the shade of our teeth- the list is endless. And when we feel we have 'worked out' one inadequacy, it won't be long before we're battling with another.
It isn't just in appearance. We worry about out personalities, about being too shy or too loud, or too overbearing, or too weak, or too serious, or too sad; again, the list is endless.
When it comes to being a Christian, I know that I can often do the same thing with my spiritual life. I think about all the mistakes I've made that week or that day, and I compare myself with this person who prays for an hour every morning when I can barely manage more than fifteen minutes at a time, or with somebody else who also seems to be 'doing much more for God' than me, and I wonder how on earth I'll get any better.
Today I had a revelation which, if I endeavour to put into practice as much as possible, I'm sure will sort out my attitudes so that suddenly all these 'plaguing fears' will be put to rest!
I was standing in the queue to buy a sandwhich for my lunch. Suddenly the thought crossed my mind, 'you know, God sees you as perfect.' The Bruno Mars song popped into my head, and particularly that line, 'If perfect's what you're searching for then just stay the same.' I had just been churning over many less-than-happy thoughts about my appearance and inadequacies. I thought, 'nice thought!', but promptly forgot about it as I thought it would take far too much of an effort of faith to thoroughly believe it with all my heart- not just in my head.
Then when I got into the shop, you'll never guess what song was playing! That's right, Bruno Mars, "Just the way you are"! Call me a romantic, call me far-fetched, call me whatever you like!, but I believe that was God speaking to me. He sees me as a perfect, just because I have faith in him.
To me, that song represents how God feels about us. He adores us, and sees no imperfection in us, even though we're fundamentally sinners, and will be untill we die! He just loves us, and that's it.
It's time we- and I- started living in the light of this, and stopped living in the lies which makes us feel so bad about ourselves.
Jesus died for us, so let's not live like we're worthless! We're unique, beautiful, lovely and LOVED. Just the way we are.
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