Spring Harvest

In the twenty years since I last went to Spring Harvest some things have changed – Steve Chalke is twenty years older, grey haired and leading the big top celebrations rather than the teen sessions. Graham Kendrick is older but still as prolific with his songwriting. The venue was different too, Skegness rather than Minehead.

But despite the superficial changes some things remain the same. God’s goodness and love was still apparent in everything we did. From the little things like the atmosphere of everyone on site to the teenagers who picked my daughter up after she’d fallen over. They dusted her down, cleaned her knee and put a plaster on before helping her to where we were meeting. Teenagers I might add that I would have hesitated to talk to in the street – a lesson perhaps not to judge a book by it’s cover.

For me personally I felt as though I’d come a long way since that first visit, but also that life had come full circle.

As an 18 year old I was single, childless and had youth and vitality on my side. Now, some 20 years later, I’ve two children, rather more grey hairs and somewhat less energy than back then.

But God still spoke to me. He spoke about getting out there, into his world and his community, showing his love in practical daily tasks. Finally I realised the worth in all the domestic routines and chores I do. Showing God’s love in action isn’t some abstract concept, it’s in the nitty gritty of life. For some people it’s in the home, for other’s its at work.But wherever we are we can find opportunities to show God’s love in action.

Obviously though, we need to share God’s love, not just keep it in a holy huddle in our churches, and that was something that was talked about a lot this week – taking church out into our community. The challenge is to get down and dirty with the poor, the needy, the lonely, the disenfranchised who live round the corner from us. We need to move forward from Hope 08, not get stuck in a rut, and so the challenge for us is to ask, ‘What next?’

A new start

I finally feel ready to do something about loosing weight. Some months ago I signed up for the GP referral scheme at the Uni gym with the intention of doing some exercise. Its been a long process as they do a whole body system there where they talk about nutrition as well as exercise and other things. The lady I see has been on holiday a couple of times and what with one thing and another I've not actually been in the gym for a workout.

But all that changes tomorrow morning at 9am when I shall be doing my first workout for about 12 years!

I've also started cycling the children to school, this week we managed 3 days and I worked out that I've cycled nearly 12 miles just going to school and back - wow!

Coupled with that I also joined weight watchers on Friday because I've found in the past that it really helps me to loose weight when I can meet with other people who also need to loose weight. The slight downside is that I finally realised how much weight I need to loose - about 10st 11lbs - which is huge. The upside is the new (to me) weight watchers website which has an online forum section where you can chat with other people. There's a whole segment for people who have over 5 st to loose so I've posted there and read loads. I've been inspired by one lady who started at 26 st and is now down to 14st on her way to goal.

With luck and some hard work hopefully there will be much less of me in the coming months.

I'm going to try and be good an post here each week to let you all know how I'm getting on. I may even summon up the courage to post some pics when I've lost some weight.

Catch you all next week.

Eve

Photo's and the memories they trigger

We talked a lot about this today, both the memories themselves and the words associated with photography. Many people apparently remember things in terms of a memory snapshot and then remember the details of an event from that. Me, I tend to remember the overall event and then zoom in onto a specific detail. But I guess that's what makes me different to everyone else.
I wrote a piece tonight about a photograph.

Family Portrait
Take an instant
Pose, zoom in,
Filter out the rest.
Focus on the subjects.
One moment in time
Captured forever.
The happy smiles fill the photo.
Wind on a frame or so,
The baby cries,
The smiles wane,
The parents argue.
Like flashlight batteries running down
The marriage fades
Till all that is left is one
Wrinkled snapshot.
A Polaroid of happier time.

Bathtime Reflections

This week we've looked at how our lives have changed since we were children and how our time usage had altered. I realised that my time went from being mainly time to myself to do what I liked to being mostly for others with little time to me. I wrote a piece, projecting myself forward some ten years or so and looking back to when my children were small. Its incomplete and needs some working on but here's the first draft.

The end?
She reclined into the warm bath, soft scented bubble floating around her. The bathroom had taken on a fantasy atmosphere, lit as it was by candles flickering in the draughts. She closed her tired eyes and exhaled a deep sigh.
Today had been a busy day, helping her children to move out of home for the first time. One had gone to a flat share with a good friend, the other to live near a new job. Why it had to both be on the same day Louise would never know. There had been a big flurry of packing and repacking of boxes as childhood memories had been transported to their new abodes.
Louise settled her shoulders under the warm water and reflected on how things had changed. How life had been when the girls were small and family life was just starting.
Back then there had been precious little time to herself, certainly no time to indulge in the luxury of a candlelit bath. She remembers hurried early morning showers as she rushed to get washed and dressed for work, praying that the children would stay asleep just that bit longer so she could get her make-up done without helping hands. Once she was ready the Nanny would take over and the children would become her responsibility... well apart from the time she'd managed to lock herself out when she went out to empty the bin and the girls had been sitting indoors watching TV... Louise had made it home in record time that afternoon.
It was constantly like that then, a never ending round of work, shopping, running the washing machine, time with the children and sleep. Although sleep was something squeezed into the time remaining after everything else was done.
Then as the girls got older and went to school the after school activities had started and they were all over the place after school.
How she managed Louise never knew, life became a blur of survival, whirling from one crisis to the next, a helter skelter ride you couldn't get off.
Except she had...finally.
The children had left home to start their own treadmills and she was free....to do... what?

Childhood Games

It was interesting in class last night to talk about the games that we remembered from our childhood.
Here we were, a class full of diverse people, diverse ages, cultures and geographical origin. Yet there were many games that we all recalled, although some of the names were very different. Among the chase and tag games, conkers, marbles, french skipping, hopscotch and Mr Wolfe were some more interesting nuggets - Pelvering was the most unusual, from someone who grew up in Somerset.
We then looked at using childhood games as a memory device and using them as a metaphor.
As a child I loved to play chess and was a big supporter of the school chess group. It drew me to use it as a metaphor. I hope you like it.

Pawn
Mary felt like a Pawn, easily lost in the shuffling game of life. Her whole life, she had been moved around, subject to the whim of other people. It started as a child when her father would decide that the current job he was employed at wasn't working and that the solution was to relocate the whole family to a different area and begin a 'new life' with a different job.
How many new lives had she had, Mary wondered? There was the Cornish life where her father had been a fisherman, time as a bricklayer's daughter in Birmingham, then further north to Nottingham where her father had done something else, she couldn't remember what now.
Mary could trace her families progression diagonally up the country, zig, zagging from one dead end opportunity to the next, like the Bishop peddling his empty rhetoric of religion, each meaningless and unsatisfying.
After her father it had been her husband, leaping into her life like a Knight on its charger to rescue her. They'd met, fallen in love and married even before her father had moved to yet another job. They'd leaped away from him to a different life, or so it was promised. But it hadn't worked out that way, her Knight was always having to leap our of the way of imminent danger, usually bought on himself by another crazy get rich quick scheme.
All the while Mary had plodded slowly on, managing to avoid being captured and beaten by circumstances.
When her husband leap at his final tangent (this time to rescue another damsel in distress) she'd stayed the course. Finally Mary realised she'd reached the other side of the board. She was a Queen in her own right. No longer subject to the whims and vagaries of other players in her life, no longer a Pawn pushed around by everyone else, insignificant and easily lost.
Now she was in control of her own life. Gliding majestically along, serene and complete.

The Nature of a Memory

We've been doing about life memory writing in my class and its bought up some interesting things. I thought I'd share them with you as I go along.

What is a memory?
It can be a distant glimpse of a faraway time, fleeting like an Autumn leaf blown on the wind. It can be vibrant and vivid, full of minute detail, plunging you back into a time and place forever gone. It can be shared with a loved one, drawing you closer together or tearing you further apart.
Some memories are easily forgotten, time moves on and they became unimportant. Others remain indelibly etched upon your soul, carrying the details of an event to your grave.

Writers Block Turned Positive.

So for a couple of weeks now I've worried about my lack of writing and how difficult I've found my course.
Last night was mostly sleepless, yet I managed to start a new poem and with a couple of hours work this evening I've managed to complete it. It would be good to hear what you think of it but perhaps the most important thing I've learned over the last couple of weeks is, that it doesn't matter as long as I like it :)

Writers Block

I sit here and listen to those all around,
Whose words captivate, completely profound.
A profusion of prose all written and rounded,
Like nothing before has ever been sounded.
And yet in my corner no words outpour,
Feels like I’ve never done this before.

Some years ago my family I astounded,
The long-standing critics I completely confounded.
I passed my ‘A’ levels with a ‘B’,
Then went on to complete an Honours Degree.
Rich words were tucked under my belt,
Enough to write prose till the arctic melt.

Strange it is then, that I find,
No words at all spring to mind.
Yet when I glance down at the paper,
My mind has been on its own jolly caper.
A complete poem has simply appeared,
No block for me, as I’d long feared.
By Eve Laws

Strange things

Interestingly, after my last post I sat here and wrote half a poem! It needs some work still and I'm searching for a word or two, but the outline is there and I like it.
Then later while checking my mails and things I came across this. I don't know if it will work properly but I'll try and copy and paste it to here for you. I thought it was timely and interesting, not to mention very apt for me. Let me know how you fare and whether its apt for you too.

Your Birthdate: May 29

You have the mind of an artist, even if you haven't developed the talent yet. Expressive and aware, you enjoy finding new ways to share your feelings. You often feel like you don't fit in - especially in traditional environments. You have big dreams. The problem is putting those dreams into action. Your strength: Your vivid imagination Your weakness: Fear of failure Your power color: Coral Your power symbol: Oval Your power month: November

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Backwards rather than forwards

Tonight was week three on my creative writing course and to be honest I'm begining to wonder what I'm doing there. I can't remember a time when I felt less creative. Its not just the writing front, my knitting's not holding my attention, neither are the books I'm reading, the newspapers, tv or the internet.
But the thing that's worrying me most is the writing. I'm sitting in class each week listening to things that other people have written, at the same time as me, on the same topic and I hear lively, polished pieces with a clear voice, wonderful vocabulary and interesting details. In comparison my writing feels dull and lacklusture. I feel like I've completely forgotten how to write.
The much beloved is trying to be understanding and supportive in telling me that as long as I'm happy writing that's the main thing. It doesn't matter if we get published or what everyone else's is like. I'd love to believe him, but this whole year is costing him £500 and I'm a tad worried that at the end of the year I'll have nothing to show for it and nothing even vaguely publishable. Perhaps all this year is going to do is reveal me as a literary wanabe and a fake?