"It's a miracle" - or is it?

Arriving at Zac's last night I found the room already crowded; by the time study was about to start there were 33 of us (including Baby) and we had to bring extra chairs in from the hall. I say we but, of course, I'm using it in the royal sense: the men did the carrying.

I muttered to Steve,' They're all out tonight,' meaning all the more eccentric regulars/occasionals were in attendance: with me leading the study this had the makings of a disaster waiting to happen.  

Steve managed eventually to get everyone's attention and he did the opening prayer while I, who was in a cold sweat by this time, sent up my own fervent/fevered plea for help.

And the evening went ... really well.

We were looking at Jesus, the miracle worker, reading the story of the first recorded miracle, turning water to wine. Lots of people joined in the animated discussion, there was disagreement but not discord, and a number of interesting and thought-provoking points were raised. And I only had to yell twice. (Although me yelling is about as effective as a banana trying to take control so I was grateful for the intervention of Kay and, more surprisingly, Golly, who also had some really good points to make.)

The thirty or so pancakes I made for Shrove Tuesday went down well too with a little sugar and lemon.

Quite often after I've led the study I'll be unable to sleep as I toss and turn fretting about all the things I should/shouldn't have said; last night I couldn't sleep but not because of what I did. But rather because God took charge. How cool is that?

What the future holds

It seems I was the only person to be surprised by the course of events but now I've fallen gracefully on my sword I am really looking forward to retiring in 4 or 5 months. It can't come soon enough: I have such great plans for what I will do with the extra time.

I'll become a published best-selling author; I'll throw myself into life in Zac's; I'll keep the house spotlessly clean (okay, maybe that's a step too far even for my imagination); I'll wear George out with huge long walks; I'll have amazing adventures with my grandchildren; I'll pay more regular visits to my elderly relatives. And all this in an extra ten hours a week!

And you and I both know what will happen to my plans. But that's fine because life is good and I enjoy being surprised by it.

You've never got a Swiss army knife when you need one

'Have you got a Swiss army knife?' I asked Husband.
'No. One of the boys had one but I don't know where it is. I've got a sheath knife though from when I was in scouts.'
'You'd be arrested for that these days.'
'Fourteen-year-old boys needed to carry a knife in case they felt like whittling.'
'Or skinning a rabbit.'

Thirty minutes later it occurred to me: 'You weren't in the scouts. And I wouldn't have thought there'd have been many whittling sticks or rabbits on a housing estate in the city of Derby.'
Husband just grinned.

So I had to take a scissors on my walk with me deflecting somewhat from the frontiers-woman image I was hoping to create.

I wasn't planning on cutting down camellias or rhododendrons from Clyne gardens you understand. I just needed a bit of washed-up rope. As it turned out the scissors was next to useless but fortunately I found a stray length I can use.

The ministry of cake

So, one weekend, I 'come out' at Linden and say I'm committing myself to Zac's and the next weekend sees tragedy hit Zac's. And a little voice says, 'Are you sure this is the church you want to commit to?'

Absolutely. There's no other place I'd rather be. I'm helpless and hopeless and I'm not good at talking to people but I make a tidy cake.

When I was being prayed for I was given two words in particular: redeemed and mother. So if nothing else I hope to see the mother, the Welsh mam, in me coming out. Mam's answer to everything: 'Sit down, have a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake.'

But it wasn't all gloomy

We also celebrated Nicole's 40th birthday. Nicole has taken enormous steps and turned her life around since I first met her - she is unrecognisable now as the same woman - and is a wonderful mother to her baby son. In spite of the tragedy of the weekend her life deserved to be celebrated - although she struggled to hold back the tears as she blew out her candles.

What was especially wonderful, and I admit slightly surprising to me, was that, although Andy was a quiet background sort of person, everyone I spoke to last night had their own story to relate. He affected a lot of people and leaves behind many good memories.

A happier day: Andy before his baptism last summer. And remembering him.

And death shall have no dominion

One of our Zac's regulars died on Saturday. A fragile soul who, over past months, had enjoyed the most stable period of his lifetime. Which in its way contributed to his death.

So there was a sombre atmosphere in Zac's last night. For those who wondered if God understood fear, depression, hopelessness, for us all, Sean had us read from Matthew 26:36-46, where, in Gethsemane, Jesus laments, 'My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.'

We lit candles in Andy's memory, in defiance of the darkness that would steal our peace because darkness cannot overcome the light.

And death shall have no dominion.

An eventful few days

Sunday
The leaders had invited me to explain to the church my reasons for taking time out/leaving Linden and to pray for me. I was quite scared about being prayed for: standing up the front - what if no-one wanted to pray for me? Yes, I know that's unlikely but worry is irrational.

Anyway come Sunday morning Chris called me forward and I began to speak, starting by saying that the last thing Husband had said to me before I'd set off for church was, 'Just relax - and don't say anything stupid.' Trouble is the more relaxed I was the more likely I was to say something stupid ...

But it didn't look as if I'd get the chance to say anything much stupid or wise when mid-explanation the fire alarm went off.

Everyone looked at each other and I muttered something along the lines of, 'could someone turn that off, please?' Eventually after some looking at each other the leaders and trustees decided that we really should evacuate until the building had been checked. So out we all trooped. 

When it had been confirmed that it was a false alarm - and I'd gone back in to explain how to switch off the alarm - everyone returned and Chris summoned me back out the front. Personally I felt that it was a sign that everyone should leave Linden ...

In spite of my anxiety the being prayed for bit was really rather nice and comforting and supportive. So that was that.

Monday
Coincidentally my annual staff review had been scheduled in here. Because of my decision things were now a little up in the air so we've agreed that we'll meet again in two weeks having thought about what we/I want to do. Watch this space ...

Tuesday 
Off to Devon for GrandSon2's second birthday.

The sun was shining so it seemed an ideal opportunity to eat ice cream on the quay at Exeter. My suggestion unsurprisingly. Followed by a birthday tea and chocolate cake.

Wednesday
Took the grandchildren swimming and then pottered before returning home. All was well until midnight. From then on I spent the time mostly with my head down the toilet. You'd think your body would realise when there was nothing left to come up, wouldn't you? That'll teach me to share straws and drinks with children who've just got over a tummy bug. 

Thursday
Felt very sorry for myself and slept most of the day. Woken at lunchtime by the bottles on the bedroom sink rattling. In my bleary state I thought it was George, creeping around looking for me and bumping into things. Turned out it was an earth tremor.
Resisted a strong craving for eggs and chips in the evening.

Friday
Feeling as if I've been kicked in the stomach by a carthorse. Not ill very often and don't cope well with it. Still have this craving but now it's for poached eggs on toast. Think I might be able to manage some in a little while. Perhaps I should paint big white cross and hang it on the gate. Unclean, unclean! 

Sympathy please. 

Not being Sean

Steve was supposed to be leading Zac's on Tuesday but he ended up in hospital after a cardiac arrest: the things some people will do to avoid leading. Anyway I offered to do it and afterwards Ric said, 'Well, that was another study you scraped through by the skin of your teeth.'
I asked him what I could do to be better. He replied, 'Be Sean.' Which isn't exactly helpful but true.

The trouble is, for lots of our regulars, it's not so much Zac's place as Sean's place, and anyone trying to step into his shoes is at an instant disadvantage. That aside I don't help myself.

At the end we prayed for one young lad whose mother had just died. In the prayer I asked that God would be a mother to him. 'And father, and brother ...' and instead of stopping there I sort of carried on. And on. I was just about on the verge of asking God to be great-aunt and sister-in-law to the boy when I said, 'and child. No, not child. I don't mean child. I'll stop now. Amen.'

You see I panic. I'll say something with conviction ending it with 'as it says in the bible,' and then I'll doubt myself. And instead of just keeping quiet I say, 'I think it says that in the bible; does it say that in the bible? I think it does.' And I'm usually right but by focusing on it I draw attention to my uncertainty.

Afterwards Nigel took me aside and said, 'when you were praying, just before you said child, I sent up a quick prayer. I said, please stop Liz now; she's waffling.'

So you see it was Nigel and God's fault. But if I hadn't panicked I'd have got away with it because most people would have got bored and stopped listening by then.

I need the gift of authority and the ability to - not bluff exactly but to keep calm and - deny everything.

Cleavage and failure to connect

Undressing and getting ready for bed the other night I took off my bra and Husband burst out laughing. Which isn't really the reaction a girl hopes to produce.

It turned out that the tissues I'd stuffed in my cleavage earlier had stayed in place even when I'd removed my bra. (I know: too much information)

* * * * * * * * * *
On Monday mornings I get into work and get down on my knees - and try and work out why the modem isn't working.

This morning I had jiggled and twisted, pulled out and pushed in, switched off and switched on everything I possibly could jiggle, pull or switch and I still wasn't getting a connection. 

There was only one thing for it: I'd have to phone one of the techy-men. Which is when I discovered we didn't have a phone connection either.

I used Husband's mobile, which happened to be in the car, to call him and ask him to report the fault to BT. It wasn't until I was back in the office - we don't get a signal inside - that I remembered we're not with BT. When I tried to call him again I discovered he was out of credit. That's when I adopted Garfield's 'I hate Mondays' pose and went back to bed (metaphorically speaking). 

(Allegedly the weather was responsible.)

Husband has a mean streak

In all the years we've known him Husband has never given George a bit of his breakfast toast yet George continues to hope that this will be the day that it all changes.

It wasn't.

A very good weekend - almost

It was Daughter's birthday yesterday so we've been in Devon for the weekend. Son-in-law took Daughter out on Saturday afternoon while we took the grandchildren swimming and then GrandDaughter and I set to making a cake. GrandDaughter is definitely of the opinion that more is better when it comes to chocolate hearts, chocolate balls and mini marshmallows.

Daughter was very pleased with the present I almost kept for myself: The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook. Yummy recipes and fun words to accompany them. I found it in a local bookshop but have just noticed it's available for kindle on Amazon. It won't be the same as a book though ...

She was also pleased with her large box of Thorntons Viennese truffles, which she opened straightaway ... and offered to the children!!!! I was appalled. 'You don't give those to children!!!' When our children were little we didn't give them chocolate for years: we even ate their Easter eggs (for their good of course) until they got wise to us. They certainly didn't get to eat any of our 'posh' chocolates.

Somewhere along the way during the course of the weekend we watched the Wales Ireland rugby game. In bed that night I tried to think of something positive to take from it: I couldn't think of a single thing. The best I could come up with was: at least they didn't totally thrash and humiliate us. Oh wait, yes, they did.