It's easier...

It's easier to shock in a bad way than in a good way.
It's easier to hurt than to heal.
It's easier to be mean than kind.
It's easier to criticise than to encourage.
It's easier to laugh at someone than to help them.
It's easier to bring pain than pleasure.
It's easier to be thoughtless than thoughtful.
It's easier to take than to give.
It's easier to ignore than to engage.

Am I being cynical? That's because it's easy.
But the easy way is rarely the best way.

That was close.

So having finally reached the eye of the storm in what is perhaps the most intensely busy period in my life so far, I set off on a long journey to go and be interviewed by the leadership of a church that are considering calling me to work for them. It was a rather pleasant journey, hurtling down the M3 with little traffic in the way – just me, singing along to all the depressingly cheesy pop love songs that I seem to have populated my iphone with. Absolute heaven. What could make this any better? A burger. And spotting a McDonald's, I heard its call and couldn't resist.

As I was returning to my car I noticed that the bonnet was open. Before leaving, I had been trying to fix my rebellious windscreen washers... and had left it open. Thankfully, it was caught on the safety catch, but it did occur to me that things could have turned out so horrifyingly different. After all, what do you do, when travelling in the fast lane of a motorway and your bonnet flies up so that you can't see in front of you? I think the options involve crashing, or causing someone else to crash. Probably both.

I'm thankful to God that it didn't and that I am still here and able to write this. Although I'm not really very thankful for the windscreen washers. They still don't work!

Funny running.

I'm sure we've all seen it. People who manage to walk perfectly normally, but then when they start to run seem unable to do so without their limbs flailing in a rather haphazard fashion. So what's my point?

Well it started whilst I had the joy of following a man who was running for the same train that I was. I say 'running', but it was not really a run; perhaps more of a trot or awkward canter. His legs seemed to ripple and jiggle through their strides – not producing much speed, but affording me a certain amount of amusement. My amusement was cut short as it occurred that since he was running, I should probably be running too.

As I ran, I did so in Great Manly Strides, easily overtaking the unfortunate individual and looking every bit like an olympic sprinter who could do this in his sleep. At least that's how I like to think I looked. In reality, I have no idea of what my limbs were doing – they just 'did'. Then it occurred to me – I had been so quick to judge the man in front, whilst I could, in fact, have such an unfortunate gait that I may have made that man look positively professional. As if to press home this worrying thought, the words of a friend from long ago came echoing to mind, "I saw Matt running for the train the other day and it made me laugh!"

It might just be that a person could get through their entire life without realising that they are in fact one of 'those funny runners'. After all, who is really going to take aside their friend to point out their unconventional running technique? It's just not the sort of thing you do and what would it achieve?

So there you have it. The next time you are tempted to smirk at someone's running style – beware, unless you have filmed yourself running, you could be worse...

Lion food.

I was staying at a farm. This farm had 'tame' lions. I had my doubts, but nevertheless went about my uneasy duties, keeping a watchful eye on the lions. One lion decided that it would playfully put my hand into its mouth. This then became my whole lower arm. I was obviously concerned, but since I had a thick glove on and the lion was tame, hoped that this was just the lion having a bit of fun.

At first the lion's grip was not too uncomfortable. However, as time went by, its bite became increasingly strong, until it became unbearable. I was completely unable to withdraw my arm and my skin was about to puncture. I called for help, but none seemed to be forthcoming. It was at this point I awoke. The dream troubled me and in my semi-conscious confusion I then tried to fabricate different ways to escape the lion's grip. None seemed satisfactory. Usually dreams are quickly forgotten, but this one lingered.

After thinking about it, I can see some interesting parallels. The lion is much like those things in our lives that we play with, but know we shouldn't. Those things or people that we know will be bad for us, but somehow think we have it all under control. Before you know it, you are in its grip and are in severe danger. That's what sin/a bad thing is like. Sin is never tame, it is never good and will always cause injury. So perhaps the moral of this dream is: be careful with who or what you play with – you may become entangled and it could prove costly.

New Year's Eve with our family.

This still makes me laugh – some of my family on NYE. It probably won't play on a mobile as there are copyright issues, so you have to be on a computer to see this...

We need these words.

I love words. They don't particularly love me, but I can accept that. I love words because they are one of the primary ways that we can express ourselves. Of course, a look, a touch, a smell, an action and even our appearance all communicate in one way or another. In fact, pretty much everything we do (or don't do) communicates something! But verbal communication is... well, for once I'm lost for words.

Good job then, that I came across this article entitled '25 Handy Words That Simply Don’t Exist In English'. I've picked out my favourite 14 below:


1 Age-otori (Japanese): To look worse after a haircut

2 Arigata-meiwaku (Japanese): An act someone does for you that you didn’t want to have them do and tried to avoid having them do, but they went ahead anyway, determined to do you a favour, and then things went wrong and caused you a lot of trouble, yet in the end social conventions required you to express gratitude

3 Backpfeifengesicht (German): A face badly in need of a fist

4 Desenrascanço (Portuguese): “to disentangle” yourself out of a bad situation (To MacGyver it)

5 Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

6 Gigil (pronounced Gheegle; Filipino): The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute

7 L’esprit de l’escalier (French): usually translated as “staircase wit,” is the act of thinking of a clever comeback when it is too late to deliver it

8 Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan): A look between two people that suggests an unspoken, shared desire

9 Manja (Malay): “to pamper”, it describes gooey, childlike and coquettish behavior by women designed to elicit sympathy or pampering by men.

10 Meraki (pronounced may-rah-kee; Greek): Doing something with soul, creativity, or love. It’s when you put something of yourself into what you’re doing

11 Pena ajena (Mexican Spanish): The embarrassment you feel watching someone else’s humiliation

12 Schadenfreude (German): the pleasure derived from someone else’s pain

13 Fremdschämen (German): Being embarrassed for someone who should be but isn't

14 Kummerspeck (German): refers to excess weight gained due to emotional overeating. The word literally translates as "grief bacon"

999

It's was a strange feeling that I felt, holding my young daughter whilst she was writhing in pain and struggling to breathe.

It was late at night and my daughter was in a lot of pain. There was nothing else for it, it was time to call an ambulance. I tried to keep calm as my fingers fumbled on the buttons. I tried to control my voice as I explained the situation to the emergency operator, whilst in the background I could my daughters cries. The operator assured me help would soon be with us and as I hung up the phone I felt a real feeling of helplessness. My wife went to get dressed and so I took over cuddling my daughter. She was fighting for every breath, her sternum raising and falling with great difficulty. She clutched her stomach and began to vomit. She was scared and so was I.

She couldn't explain what was wrong, but something deep within her was in great panic. Whatever it is within us – that urge to breathe was being tested to it's uppermost. As she clung to me, there were a few moments when I truly thought that she might not make it. It seemed that every breath was becoming more laboured and I found myself almost waiting for her to stop. As the minutes passed while we waited for the ambulance to arrive, I began to feel angry. Didn't they know that my little girl was in desperate need? I then began to worry – perhaps in my panic I had given them the wrong address or not made myself clear?

Of course I prayed – the kind of desperate heartfelt emergency prayer that seems so natural in our times of desperation. As the minutes went by she began to calm down and although still in obvious distress, was much better by the time the medics arrived. They whisked her off to hospital and did what they needed to. I'm glad to say she is fine.

But it did get me thinking about that strange compulsion we have; the desire to survive. Our bodies are wonderfully made. They operate without our conscious thought: our hearts keep beating and we keep on breathing. I believe it is good that we have no conscious control of these things. After all, if every breathe was a struggle, would there not come a point when, in our pain and anguish, carrying on might seem like too much effort? But no, we don't have the ability to do that. Most other activities and functions require effort. But in the case of breathing it actually requires effort not to breathe. And this is due to something very basic in our design. You may attribute it to evolution, but I attribute it to a rather cunning bit of design work by God. And that, I think, is because even when we are ready to give up, He ensures we can't – it's an area where we don't have free choice, and I'm glad of that. Because life is a wonderful gift of God and we should count everyday as a blessing, embrace the life we have and make the most of it. Life is for living, don't waste it – because one day, when our breathing does finally stop, we shall meet Him and give an account for what we have done or not done with His gift of life.

I hate goodbyes.

As I look to the future, I foresee it is going to involve a lot of goodbyes.

Some will be said, but not felt. Some will not be said, but felt.

Some will be forever and some only for awhile.

But I hate goodbyes. For they signal an end, be it permanent or temporary of something that was in all probability good. So why is it 'good' bye?

"To say goodbye is to die a little."
Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

Is it ever good to be gullible?

Who wants to be thought as naive or gullible? Not many. But I find two laws at work in me. Firstly, there is what experience has taught me: that all people lie and deceive to some degree (however small). Secondly, that I wish that it wasn't so.

This can be illustrated by something that happened to me many years ago. On my way to work, I was approached by a complete stranger who claimed to have locked himself out of his flat and had left the oven on with food in it. He said he needed money for a cab fare to get to his sister's house to pick up some spare keys. He promised to repay me, but of course I knew that there was a high probability that he was lying. But I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that I was being a 'good samaritan' and that I was helping someone in their hour of need. As I pressed the money into his grateful hands I wanted to tell him that in his hands he held my faith in the good of humanity. I wanted to tell him that I was no fool and realised I would probably never see him again. On that occasion I choose to be willingly gullible in the hope that he would prove my cynicism wrong. Unfortunately he didn't.

I hoped that my extension of trust, my willingness to take a chance on him would pay off. I held this hope because I felt that if in my hour of need, I reached I might find someone willing to help me. Of course as he purchased his drink or drugs or whatever he spent the money on, he probably laughed at the fool he'd so easily duped. Would I do it again? Would I help a complete stranger in need? I would like to think I would.

I would like to say my life experience has taught me that the majority of people are honest. Sadly, experience has taught me that most people will take what they think they can get away with – and if others are silly enough to allow themselves to be conned or to make a mistake – then they deserve it.

I would suggest that in most people there are two laws at work. There is the desire to do good and be honest, but there is also the desire to take what we can for our own advantage. Essentially, it comes down to this: are people basically good or basically bad? I guess the answer changes depending on what standard we measure with or to whom we compare ourselves to. Despite this, I would still like to be able trust people; to take them at their word. Perhaps that makes me gullible and naive? Perhaps I'm just a silly optimist? Perhaps that's why I'm such a 'fan' of God? After all, Jesus said that "no one is good – except God alone." And so even when we trust people and they let us down, when we try to help people and they rip us off, there is One who will never fail, never lie and never con us. And He is good. He is God. And because I know He loves me I find within myself a strange desire to love others – even though I fail so very often.

So is it ever good to be gullible? Probably not. But is it bad to want to trust people, even if you know that by making yourself vulnerable and trying to help, you may be taken advantage of? Probably not. Because within reason, that's not being gullible, that's just being kind and gracious; and along with honesty, that's two things this world is very short on.

The Problem of Pain – C.S. Lewis.

C. S. Lewis was a man of great insight and understanding. He was one of those rare men who can make great mysteries intelligable. Here's one of my favourite quotes:

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

(C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, Centenary Press, 1940, 81.)

An ipain in the ibum.

I dislike ranting in blogs because it's boring and achieves little. However, I feel the need to rant. So I will. But promise to keep it short, if not sweet.

When I bought my top-of-the-range imac two years ago I was very excited. I had saved hard and finally it was delivered. It's been brilliant. Loved it. Awesomeness in the shape of a 27" screen – get the picture? However, it does have a fault. In fact, it has two. Firstly, ever since I have had it when it goes into power-save mode the screen begins to flicker. It's annoying and to be fair I should have sent it straight back, but I was too excited and that would have been a pain. The second problem is that during a certain period of time Apple used some dodgy hard disks from Seagate. They are now recalling all the Macs that used them and replacing the disks for free. It was only by chance that I stumbled across a thread that led me to discover this.

Apparently Apple are contacting everyone who is affected by this issue... yeah right! After entering my serial number into the Apple website I was told I am eligible for the replacement. Okay, so why wasn't I contacted? Oh no! Wait a minute – two minutes after I've entered my serial number into their website I get an urgent email from Apple telling me about the problem and that I need to take me computer in for maintenance and should not delay. How kind of them to alert me to the problem. So they advise me to contact my local Apple store and direct me to the phone number. Going well so far. After waiting over thirty minutes to talk to someone at the Kingston Apple store, I'm told that I need to google the Kingston Apple store and book an appointment online (can you just not book me in? No?). Great. And will they be able to replace the drive on the spot? No, apparently that will take between 7-10 days. And what will I do without a computer for 7-10 days? "Sorry, Sir, I don't know." Funny – BECAUSE NEITHER DO I!

So, just to clarify. I spent over 30 minutes on the phone, had to then book the appointment online, am going to have to waste a morning carrying 20kg of computer from my car to the shop (and presumably another morning picking it up), and then make do without a computer for over a week (baring in mind I work from home). And if I am not mistaken, I have to restore all my data and applications myself. And is any of this my fault? No, because let's face it, companies don't recall products unless they really have to. So since Apple are to blame, you would expect the least they could do was: arrange to pick it up; send out an engineer to do it at my home; be able to do it in store while I waited; or provide a suitable computer on loan. But no, Apple like to 'think different'.

In fact, they've just launched a new imac. The little tag line reads "Performance and design. Taken right to the edge." Well they've certainly taken me to the edge... and I kind of get the impression that if they could, they'd give me a little push – then they wouldn't have to mend my Mac.

Ooooh it hurts.

Team High Hopes

The day of the race finally came. It was freezing; I mean frost on the windows of the car freezing. Nevertheless, off we set at 6.30am. We arrived in plenty of time, tested out the portable toilets (no explanation needed – these are universally disgusting), and then stood by the roadside slowly 'chilling' whilst we waited for the race to start. As it happened we left it too long and so ended up quite far back from the finish line.

Bizarrely, a completely unknown female competitor asked me if I could check if her rear pocket zip was closed (just above her, er, bottom). So, numbed by the cold, I observed her lift the back of her top to show me her rear pocket. I couldn't see very clearly, and feeling slightly stunned by her request, I found myself reaching out (what was I thinking?) to try and rearrange the pocket to get a better view. I gave the zip a gentle tug before realising this was probably not what she had meant and quickly retracted my ice cold hands before mumbling something to the affirmative. It felt awkward. Anyway, I have digressed.

Finally the waiting was over. The air-horn sounded and the crowd surged forward. Phil Sapey, my running mate, and I weaved through the crowds, determined not to get caught up with all the slower runners – this involved a fair bit of effort, but worth it. We ran the first mile in 6.30 minutes and we pressed on hard.

I have to confess that I suddenly discovered a strange desire to actually come first. I kept seeing other runners ahead and to be quite frank I found that irritating. But I guess you have to know your limits. So how did we do? Phil, managed a time of 56.22 minutes and I came in just 11 seconds later at 56.33. That put us in the overall positions of 36 and 40 respectively. And out of over 750 people I think that's not too poor.

The amount that the six of us have raised is now over £700 and is still growing. Plus, I attained my goal of running the race in under an hour. So it's all good – except that everything aches. But it's a contented aching :)

1 day to go...

25 days ago, I blogged about The Race. But now that it is almost upon us it's hard to put into words how I feel about it. So far, thanks to many kind friends we will raise £462 (£568.75 including gift aid) for the Cystic Fibrosis Trust, in memory of our friend. Not too shabby.

As for the actual race, I think I'm looking forward to it. Over the last three weeks, two friends and I have run 10k (6.2m) every Saturday, managing to cut our time down to 46.02 minutes. I think that's reasonable, but it's not good enough. My personal goal is to achieve the 13.2km (8.2m) in under an hour. Currently we are running a seven and a half minute mile. This means that if we can maintain that speed, we will finish the race in 61 minutes. However, considering I have never actually run over 10k, this could be challenging. Perhaps I shouldn't worry. Perhaps it doesn't matter – the money will still be raised. But it's a personal goal kinda thing.

So on the eve of the race, how do I feel? Excited and nervous, but determined. Tomorrow I will run. And I will run fast. I will run it for our friend Claire; I will run it for all of those who sponsored us; I will run it for all those still suffering with CF. But I shall also run it for myself. And come Monday morning I shall ache – but if I come in under an hour, it will be a contented ache.

To sponsor us, visit out team's fundraising page. Check back here or on Facebook tomorrow – I'll report on how we did and will no doubt include some unflattering, red faced and sweaty looking pics of us all. The only downside is that it is forecast to be 4º when we run – so maybe not so much of the sweat :(

Acrostic love.

I think it's love.
Perhaps that's too much?

How can I resist the beauty of your form?
Or how simple you make my life?
No complications, just fun and no strife.

Everyday you are there for me.
Failing not, and full of energy.

I've never had another like you,
Vying for my thoughts and time.
Everlasting love? Is that a crime?

If I were a woman...

Now let me be very explicit. I have not now or ever had the desire to be a woman, not that being a woman is bad – it's just I'm a man and am totally comfortable and happy with that. But a curious thought occurred to me today: if I was a woman, what kind of woman would I be? A slightly strange thought perhaps, but let me explain...

I was on the train into Waterloo and sat opposite me was a girl in her twenties. Since I was engrossed in a game of Words with friends, my eyes were focussed on my phone. Unfortunately, this meant that they were also pointing in the direction of the legs of my fellow commuters. And what I couldn't help but notice was that the aforementioned girl had decided to wear a very short skirt. I don't have any particular issue with the length of people's skirts, but as she stood up to exit the train, I couldn't help but feel that it was rather a bold move on her part. There was nothing wrong with her figure, but it did set off an interesting train of thought (the skirt, not her figure). Why did she choose that skirt? Was it simply because wearing it made her feel good? Or was she wearing it in the hope that people would look at her legs? Was she heading off to an office somewhere with a particular prey in mind? Of course, it would have been inappropriate to enquire, but the seed was sown. This led me to consider the question, if I was a woman, would I wear such as short skirt? With the next logical question being: if I was a woman, what kind of woman would I be? (This of course works in reverse as well).

Let's start with the mind. Would I actually think in the same way as I do now or is my very thinking controlled by my sex? And if my thinking would be different, would that stem from nature or nurture? Obviously, one would assume that I would be attracted to the opposite sex, so indeed my mind and desires would have to be severely modified. Would I develop a strange love for shopping? Would I suddenly find myself feeling strangely incomplete unless I acquired those boots and the matching accessories? Would my inability to keep in contact with friends improve? Stereotypes, perhaps – but they are just that for a reason. But since I've strayed into the clothing arena, let's develop that thought.

When choosing my clothes for the day, what would be my driving force? To feel good? To impress men? Both? Would I even be aware of the effect my choice of clothing would have on the opposite sex? I guess I'd have to be naive not to. So what kind of clothes would I wear? Would I have any taste in choosing clothes? I fear I would be useless. But to bring us back to where we began, would I have the guts to wear a short skirt? To be honest I guess that depends on my age and figure – but presuming both were favourable – would I do it? To be honest I've only grappled with this quandary for a few minutes, but with all things considered and in the right context (I can hardly believe I'm writing this) I think I might. Okay, I'm shocked at myself. And to be honest thinking like this is like trying to get my mind to run the wrong way up an escalator – it's just not comfortable. So we'll leave it there.

I'm sure my fellow commuter had her own motives for choosing her clothing today. But one thing I'm pretty sure of, was that she'll have no idea of just where it led my thoughts (and not in a lewd way). Perhaps in the future I should just stick to playing Words with friends – my head is beginning to hurt, and it makes me thankful that I'm a man.

Addendum: This article should be taken in the spirit in which it is written – one of playful, explorative and inquisitive thought :)

The nature of love...

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails...

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

I cried.

I really should stop blogging and get on with some work. But this made me laugh more than I have for ages. But you probably had to be there...

The other night, when bedtime was approaching, I was a little peckish. Since my wife was in the kitchen I called to her, "Can you bring me something to eat please?"
"What would you like?" she replied.
"Some chocolate."
"We haven't got any."
"Yes we have, that bar of really horrible stuff that someone gave us ages ago."
"Where is it?" she asked.
"Down the bottom of the cupboard – it's that gross swirly orange chocolate."

There was some rummaging and a pause...

"OOOOOOOOIIIIII, that's the chocolate that ME and the GIRLS bought you when we came back from holiday!!!"
"...oh."

I laughed so much I cried. I couldn't stop. After about 30 seconds of my hysterical sobbing my wife came in with the chocolate and offered me a tissue as well. And the chocolate wasn't soooo bad after all :)

Richard Bach on friends, soul mates, love and lies.

This American writer appears to have a slightly odd philosophy on life  – that 'our apparent physical limits and mortality are merely appearance' (if wikipedia is to be believed). Hmm, so it only 'appears that people die'? Perhaps, I'm taking him out of context. Anyway, whatever else he is, he does have a way with words and I wanted to squirrel these here for later pickings – could be useful sermon fodder. I don't really agree with him in a lot of what he says – but there's some nice sentiment. Cool – consider them squirrelled.

“Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.”

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.”

“If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.”

“The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we'll lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy.”

Do we need the bitter to appreciate the sweet?

What if life was always good? A life where everything always turned out well? What kind of people would we be if we lacked nothing, knew no frustration, difficulties or heartbreak? One would hope the answer would be 'contented, happy and fulfilled people'. But would we be?

We are amazing creatures. Our capacity to adapt is phenomenal. Not that adapting to new situations and circumstances is enjoyable – for the most part change fills us with fear and can be very traumatic. But if we're to survive we have to adapt, and so we do. Surprisingly quickly our new situation can become the norm – for better or worse. So where there is an injury, the whole body compensates. Where there is a change of income, the standard of living falls or rises. Of course some changes take weeks, months or even years to accept. Perhaps the loss of someone precious to us is one such example. But change and adapt we do.

If we happen to enjoy good health then when illness breaks that norm, we long to return to it, and for a short while appreciate our good health. When sleeping in an usual and uncomfortable bed, we long for and appreciate the comforts of home. When friends reject us or let us down we find a new appreciation for those who stay with us. It occurs to me that this runs like a thread throughout everything. When our employment, family, security, health, friendships, love or happiness is threatened we have that deep desire to see things return to the norm, to how things were, because suddenly we realise how good it was.

This of course is not just negative. Positively, where there is pain, it's removal brings relief and appreciation of our wellbeing. Where there is hunger, food never tastes so good. Where there is a broken relationship, reconciliation brings great joy. But without the negative can we really comprehend the positive? The negatives make us crave the positives, just as pain makes us desire its relief. And perhaps all these things are meant to drive us to the one who never fails, and in whom we are most fulfilled, God.

And so it is, that although no one likes to imagine themselves as ungrateful and no one desires trials or heartache... it is just possible that without the bitter things in life we might be unaware that perhaps we have adapted and accepted to a second-best norm. Pain, bitterness or heartache make us aware that things are not right, and may provide the impetus and desire to seek after that which is sweet. I don't think pain gives us meaning. That just seems perverse. But I think pain and problems can bring our focus to bear on the things that do have meaning, which we might not otherwise appreciate, and so cause us to treasure when we have them.

Count your blessings.

iPhone 5

Oh yes :)