Messengers of Hope

Messengers of Hope

26th May 1995

On 26th May 1995 my parents were commissioned officers in The Salvation Army at the Royal Albert Hall in London. It was an amazing day and I remember walking proudly onto that stage in my new dress and matching hat. What you can't see in this picture are my white frilly socks with gold beading embellishment and black patent shoes (a particular treat as I loved patent shoes but always scuffed them!). Their sessional name was the 'Messengers of Hope' (for those unfamiliar with SA training - each year group is a called a session with its own name).

Fast forward 20 years and although my parents are no longer SA officers; they continue to be Messengers of Hope. Their lives are inspirational, having overcome personal hardships and they make sacrifices to put others first.

In what was traditionally considered a 'mans role', Mum serves the fishing community in Hull working for The Fishermens Mission. She brings tenderness to those in need, and is compassionate and kind, helping people in practical ways and providing emotional support. She befriends those that have no friends. Her abilities were recognised when she was asked to travel to the Falklands to support their fishing community.

Dad is a committed and hard working teacher, he has recently established the poignantly named Hope School in a very poor community in Sierra Leone. He goes the extra mile and does not give up. He loves and prioritises people that others would consider a lost cause: those percieved as unloveable. William Booth once said: 'If I thought I could win one more soul to the Lord by walking on my head and playing the tamborine with my toes, I'd learn how!'. That is my dad's attitude.

Thank you Mum and Dad for teaching me to put others first, for modelling your covenant promises 'to care for the poor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, love the unlovable, and befriend those who have no friends.'

I am very proud of you both.

Weeding

Weeding in my back garden, 11th March 2014

I would love to have a beautiful garden.

Whilst I was off work, I managed to get outside more than usual. However my garden is not the blissful haven that I was seeking.

My garden is large, and long neglected by previous owners. The perilous journey to the shed at the bottom of the garden requires fierce determination to battle the myriad of angry weeds with spikes and stingers ready to attack. 

But I decreed that I was going to be the conqueror of this parlous land and create a 'New-Eden' in my own back yard. Back down on Earth, I soon released that weed killer was not going to cut it. In a moment of valiance, I decided to retrieve the garden fork and spade from the cobwebbed corner of the shed and dig up the entire garden, in order to pull those weeds right out from the roots. A drastic measure, but warranted, if I actually want anything beautiful and fruitful to grow.

And so it is with the mind. Negative thoughts can be like weeds. They take root in the mind, and sprout their ugly heads. In time they multiply and grow spikes and stingers, strangling the healthy thoughts around them. 

So at the minute I'm weeding, and starting to sow seeds that I know with perseverance and commitment, will grow into something strong, healthy, and beautiful.

Musing there an hour alone

Last Thursday, I returned to work following a two month gap. This hiatus was unplanned, and due to ill health. During this time, I have made great strides with the way in which I see myself and others, and many people have commented in the change in me- 'You've got your sparkle back' - they have said.

I have a habit of fixating my mind on negative thoughts and ideas and obsessing over them to unhealthy levels. This means that I allow bright, pure, and lovely moments to glide by me, whilst I'm stuck in a sludge of negativity.

So this is my project. When I have 'an hour alone': to notice, muse upon, and appreciate the good, the worthy, and the wonderful.