I start this post slightly dishevelled and confused. I have been on a survival weekend without even leaving my house. I shall do my best to explain.
Hubby (whom I have now decided to nickname the Raving Rev) is away at a conference all to do with his training. I have been left at home alone, yay. Before leaving the Raving Rev looks at me with great concern on his face, "now are you sure that you are going to be ok on your own?" I tut, of course I am. I am a fully grown woman, I think I can manage. He asks me at least 20 more times and I am beginning to get slightly annoyed that he seems to think that I cannot manage. His final question to me was more blunt "will you and the house still be in one piece when I get back?" I glared, what was that supposed to mean? I am not clumsy like him; I do not break things like him; rant, rant, rant. He backed off, nodded, gave me a kiss and was on his way. To add insult to injury my mother also kept texting me and phoning to ask if I would be alright. What was this? You would think I was a disaster waiting to happen. Turns out, I am.
Saturday morning, after a lovely long lie, I get up and decide that I will wash the dog beds. The upstairs one was particularly stinky and when I picked it up, to my horror, I found out why. My beloved little pooch had decided to stash some of his food up there under his bed and it had started growing, arrrgh, gross. I get it downstairs and in the washing machine. That was all fine and uneventful. Then the fun began. I decided to bath the dog. I managed to get him into the bath and everything was going well until I pushed him further down the bath so that I could use the shower head on him. He slipped and couldn't get his footing and was sliding around all over the place. I was trying to hold him in one hand and the shower head in the other and water and dog shampoo was going everywhere! I managed to rinse him off and he got out the bath himself and then the delightful drying began. Fifteen minutes later the dog emerges from the bathroom slightly damp and smelling sweet and I emerge looking like a half drowned rat.
I went downstairs and decide to wash the other dog bed. This is a large bed with memory foam insert (gift from parents). I gather the bed up and I push, heave and squeeze it into the washing machine. I then stop and have a thought. I don't really need to wash the inside, just the cover. I can fabreeze the inside and that will save time drying it. So I start to pull the bed out of the washing machine. I pull and I pull and I heave and it is refusing to budge. I grab a bit of it and give it a massive yank. The bed stayed put but the washing machine lurched forward. Thankfully it righted itself and I'm now getting slightly worried because I've got the bed stuck in the washing machine and its not budging. I sit on the floor, place both feet on the washing machine, grab the cushion and heave with all my might. On the fourth heave the cushion came flying out of the machine and I went flying backwards and hit my head on the cupboards, ouch. At least I've freed the cushion, hoorah. I proudly unzip the cover to retrieve the inside and was met with an explosion of foam. Apparently the cushion inside is ripped. I stood there, slightly stunned and confused as bits of foam went hurtling all over the kitchen. I yanked the cover off and, still with bits of foam in it, shoved it into the washing machine. I then went about the task of clearing up the foam which the dog thought was great and was spreading it throughout the house, nooooo.
Whilst gathering up the foam I noticed that the tumble dryer was making a strange noise. I went to investigate and became concerned that it was about to burst into flames, such was the strange noise it was making. I noticed the Raving Rev's bag stuffed down the side of it and decide to pull it out in case its that making the noise. As I pull the bag out, it hooks onto the sliding cupboard we have and pulled it straight out into my face. I reeled back in shock and hit the back of my head on the cupboard again, owwwwww.
I am now getting slightly distressed and all this has happened within an hour. I decide to do some food and settle for the easy option of pasta in a sauce. It's one of those packet pastas so I can't possible go wrong. I set about boiling the milk and water. I stand there watching the saucepan.....nothing. Sigh. The saying sprang to mind "a watched kettle never boils" so I grab the local paper and begin reading that. I stop and check the milk, nothing. Fine, carry on reading. Stop and check again, nothing. Reading, checking, nothing. Reading, checking, aaarrrgh. There is now a volcano of milk where there should be a saucepan. I grab the pan and turn the knob to reduce the heat. Suddenly I'm aware that I'm standing with the saucepan in one hand and the knob in the other. That can't be good. I put the saucepan down, manically shoved the knob at the space where it should be and thankfully, after some 'gentle' persuading, it reattached. After 40 minutes, I eventually managed to get my pasta that was only supposed to take 6-7 minutes.
After all this, I decide to dry the dog beds in the tumble dryer and tidy up the rest of the house. After a bit I become aware that something is not right. I don't know what it was but I ran to the kitchen to the tumble dryer where all appeared to be fine but I knew something was amiss. I yanked open the door to discover that rogue foam had entered the tumble dryer, blocked up the filter and was starting to make the dryer overheat, aaargh. Nearly had a fire, oh good grief. Then, one of my poor, elderly rabbits took one of his fits. I grabbed him out of the hutch, brought him round and was just putting him back when our adopted auntie popped in to see me. I was stood there covered in bedding, hay and rabbit fluff and looking slightly harassed. Straight away, she checked on the bunny, made sure he was ok and then laughed as I told her about my day.
Suddenly, I realised why the Raving Rev and my mother were so concerned. Memories began to flash before my eyes. Like the time in our last house when I was left alone, the tap in the bathroom kept dripping and wouldn't stop. I took a hammer to it and it never dripped again. Didn't work again either until the Raving Rev replaced it. Or the time I was assembling a cabinet by myself and I couldn't find a bradawl so I used whatever I could find. Raving Rev came in and I proudly showed off the cabinet. He was impressed until he spotted my DIY bradawl, apparently it was the thermometer thing for the microwave. You would stab it in the food and it would tell you if it was done. Well, by the time I had finished with it, that thermometer was done. Then there was the time that the chimney caught fire. I kept calm and went into the kitchen and grabbed one of the saucepans off the side (it was the weekend and I hadn't washed up from the night before tut tut), filled it with water and then went and threw it on the fire. The chimney fire went out and the whole house turned black/brown. Raving Rev came downstairs and stared at me whilst I, with a big grin, proudly announced that I had put the fire out. "You threw it on? Are you crazy? It could have exploded into your face!" Also the saucepan that I used had fat in it which I had also thrown onto the fire, ooops. The other bit as well was that all the soot and ash had come flying out of the fire and into the house. My dressing gown was lovely and white at the back and brown all up the front (as was my face). The dog we had then who was white, as he had been laying down, he had one white side and one brown side. The house rabbits were covered, the settee, everything. Ten seconds to put the fire out, five hours to clean the house.
I think I'm beginning to understand their concern, perhaps I'm not safe to be left alone. What will I be like in a manse? Can you imagine me trying to serve tea to visiting parishioners? Or trying to do a dinner for guests? Will we all survive?
Be blessed.
Monday 27 August 2012
Friday 3 August 2012
Seeing God Work
I've been away working at a Christian summer youth camp for a week and what an amazing week it was! I felt truly blessed and honoured to be there. What happened? Well, grab a cuppa and a biscuit, put your feet up and read on.
I should probably explain what this camp was so that you understand. Camp was not 'camping', there was not a tent in sight or, needless to say, I would not have been there. After my last experience with a tent where the inflatable bed started to deflate during the night which made my husband and I roll together and get stuck in the middle of the darn thing with 2 inflated sides which would allow no escape; ducks who insisted on doing a night raid around our tent and thought it was great fun to try and pull the guy ropes out; camping on the side of a hill (hubby's great idea) so that we awoke in the morning down the bottom of the tent where we had slid down with the dog on top of our heads, I'm not a lover of camping. This camp was a residential setting where adult leaders and approximately 43 teenagers stayed in dorms in a fantastic old building (nice comfy beds and warm showers, my kinda camping). We had morning and evening meetings where we learnt about God, built friendships and throughout the day we had outdoor activities. Ah the activities...more about them later.
It's hard to know where to begin when telling this story. Do I start at the very beginning of the journey where my husband directed me to the wrong ferry port at 6am and I then had to race in my car to the other ferry port at high speed, praying all the way, cursing all the cute fluffy bunnies that kept leaping out on us and trying to make us crash and listening to my husband sob and squeak "I want to live! I want to live! Please God, I want to live"?
Maybe I should start during the leaders training weekend, a behind the scenes look where we invented ceilidh style extreme ping pong (or table tennis, no table necessary). I never knew ping pong could be so viscous nor how much a ping pong ball hurts when it hits you in the face (thanks to the very tall dude for that who then brutally laughed, you know who you are!). Or when we all played catapults by tying together elastic bands, attaching the elastic bands to our big toes and then 'pinged' bits of paper at one another. Again, this is very painful when you've got a young, strong American lad who pings the paper at your face and who is then rude enough to avoid all the bits of paper you try to ping back at him grrrr.
It was a serious training weekend but the fun bits are, well, fun. Our serious bits were good and everything was going well until the leaders had to say which activities they would do. As I said earlier, there were activities most of which were outdoor ones, I'm sure you can possibly see where this is going with me. We began with canoeing and kayaking, faces turned to me. Um, no, I can't swim. Ok, next activity - caving. Me "Are you serious? Look how tall I am? I'm sure it's against health and safety regulations to put someone my size into a tight, dark hole". Ok, next....mountain biking. When I managed to catch my breath from laughing they realised that the answer was probably no. The last time I was on a bike I was 8 years old and as soon as I climbed on it I promptly fell off. I'm also, only ever so slightly unfit. Not biking then. I wasn't offered the high ropes as I had never done it before and couldn't tie off the ropes....awww but I really wanted to do that one, ahem. Sailing - can't swim. Gorge walking - seriously? Why would I want to go for a walk where I'll get soaked? If I wanted that I'd go out in the rain. Crafts - YES, I mean, yeah sure! I can do crafts. I am brilliant at stick men. Crafts is good and no-one else seemed too keen to do them. For the sake of the other leaders, I'll take the crafts hahaha. I also volunteered to do the first aid with the teenagers. This sadly did not happen due to the paramedic unfortunately breaking her ankle, I kid you not.
So with the training weekend over and done with the leaders waited with baited breath for the teenagers to come (and while we waited we ate jam doughnuts - it was tough week haha). The teens came and the week began and I truly don't know how to explain it. Going into every detail would take too long and become boring. Skimming over it makes it sound unimportant, so how do I tell you about it. Perhaps in the way that my memory works. Laughter, singing, eating together and laughing and joking, the meetings where we read the bible and learnt together, the small groups where we gathered to discuss what we had learnt during the meetings, drinking tea and sitting in the sun talking about favourite bands and music, wet teens running around when they came back from a wet activity, funny stories and the list goes on.
My treasured memories are during the small groups, a twelve year old taught me something about my faith that, although I had heard it a hundred times before, had never really taken it in and understood it. Their simple outlook and explanation really hit home with me and blew me away and the smile on their face when I told them that they had taught me something was amazing. Sitting outside in the sun, drinking tea, discussing a band with a teen that we both love. I loved this conversation because we went from discussing our love for the music to how in the lyrics you could hear that these people have everything that a lot of people long for (fame, money etc) but are desperately lonely and unhappy. This led to discussing the Christian faith, topics we had covered earlier in the week and then back to the music. It was a natural flowing conversation and it was great to connect with the young people and to hear their views and thoughts. Watching the youngsters participate in the talent show - we had a rapper, a guitarist, a rocker (who did Paint It Black, totally rocked), a singer (Your song) which brought tears to my eyes and a dance act (cha cha slide). These youngsters were fantastic! I was so proud of each and every one of them for being brave enough to get up there and perform and their gifts were amazing. They bought tears to my eyes and I'm not one that easily cries. Finally, my most treasured memory, on the last morning, the youngsters were asked to remain standing if they had experienced God throughout the week or had decided to have a relationship with Him. In all honesty, I expected most of them to sit down. In truth, only 5 or 6 sat down. Out of 43 children, about 37 teenagers remained standing for God. To see God working in them, touching their lives, it was awesome and humbling. I was astounded and yes, I cried. The beauty, seeing God work, witnessing this was brilliant. I struggle to try and describe it. Amazing.
So after this, we made sure that our youngsters knew about clubs, meetings, etc that they could come along to so that they can grow within the faith. Then it was time to say goodbye. There were tears, photos, hugs, waving and suddenly it was quiet. The leaders packed away all the tech stuff, checked the dorms were clean and that was us away. Of course, my story doesn't quite end there.
In my small car I had 4 people and something like 8 bags/cases (I was giving lifts to the train station). Hubby was squashed into the back along with a suitcase and tall dude who had his suitcase on his lap with our youngster in the front (who couldn't help but giggle and occasionally mention the leg room that they plenty of). Well, I had to stop for ferry tickets (yes another ferry) and as I came out of the shop I saw hubby squeezing back into the car. I thought that I would be helpful and closed the back door as I got in so that he wouldn't have to. Instead of a thank you I was greeted with a howl and a moan that I had now hurt his side. Tut, no gratitude. On the ferry, tall dude, youngster and I are chatting whilst hubby is mumbling away to himself. On the road hubby carries on moaning that it hurt when I shut the door. After a while I told him to shut up and stop being such a drama queen. I had apologised and I won't shut the door for him again. Well, after a hospital trip on Sunday, turns out I'd busted his ribs when I shut the door, oops. That's me eating humble pie then.
God bless.
I should probably explain what this camp was so that you understand. Camp was not 'camping', there was not a tent in sight or, needless to say, I would not have been there. After my last experience with a tent where the inflatable bed started to deflate during the night which made my husband and I roll together and get stuck in the middle of the darn thing with 2 inflated sides which would allow no escape; ducks who insisted on doing a night raid around our tent and thought it was great fun to try and pull the guy ropes out; camping on the side of a hill (hubby's great idea) so that we awoke in the morning down the bottom of the tent where we had slid down with the dog on top of our heads, I'm not a lover of camping. This camp was a residential setting where adult leaders and approximately 43 teenagers stayed in dorms in a fantastic old building (nice comfy beds and warm showers, my kinda camping). We had morning and evening meetings where we learnt about God, built friendships and throughout the day we had outdoor activities. Ah the activities...more about them later.
It's hard to know where to begin when telling this story. Do I start at the very beginning of the journey where my husband directed me to the wrong ferry port at 6am and I then had to race in my car to the other ferry port at high speed, praying all the way, cursing all the cute fluffy bunnies that kept leaping out on us and trying to make us crash and listening to my husband sob and squeak "I want to live! I want to live! Please God, I want to live"?
Maybe I should start during the leaders training weekend, a behind the scenes look where we invented ceilidh style extreme ping pong (or table tennis, no table necessary). I never knew ping pong could be so viscous nor how much a ping pong ball hurts when it hits you in the face (thanks to the very tall dude for that who then brutally laughed, you know who you are!). Or when we all played catapults by tying together elastic bands, attaching the elastic bands to our big toes and then 'pinged' bits of paper at one another. Again, this is very painful when you've got a young, strong American lad who pings the paper at your face and who is then rude enough to avoid all the bits of paper you try to ping back at him grrrr.
It was a serious training weekend but the fun bits are, well, fun. Our serious bits were good and everything was going well until the leaders had to say which activities they would do. As I said earlier, there were activities most of which were outdoor ones, I'm sure you can possibly see where this is going with me. We began with canoeing and kayaking, faces turned to me. Um, no, I can't swim. Ok, next activity - caving. Me "Are you serious? Look how tall I am? I'm sure it's against health and safety regulations to put someone my size into a tight, dark hole". Ok, next....mountain biking. When I managed to catch my breath from laughing they realised that the answer was probably no. The last time I was on a bike I was 8 years old and as soon as I climbed on it I promptly fell off. I'm also, only ever so slightly unfit. Not biking then. I wasn't offered the high ropes as I had never done it before and couldn't tie off the ropes....awww but I really wanted to do that one, ahem. Sailing - can't swim. Gorge walking - seriously? Why would I want to go for a walk where I'll get soaked? If I wanted that I'd go out in the rain. Crafts - YES, I mean, yeah sure! I can do crafts. I am brilliant at stick men. Crafts is good and no-one else seemed too keen to do them. For the sake of the other leaders, I'll take the crafts hahaha. I also volunteered to do the first aid with the teenagers. This sadly did not happen due to the paramedic unfortunately breaking her ankle, I kid you not.
So with the training weekend over and done with the leaders waited with baited breath for the teenagers to come (and while we waited we ate jam doughnuts - it was tough week haha). The teens came and the week began and I truly don't know how to explain it. Going into every detail would take too long and become boring. Skimming over it makes it sound unimportant, so how do I tell you about it. Perhaps in the way that my memory works. Laughter, singing, eating together and laughing and joking, the meetings where we read the bible and learnt together, the small groups where we gathered to discuss what we had learnt during the meetings, drinking tea and sitting in the sun talking about favourite bands and music, wet teens running around when they came back from a wet activity, funny stories and the list goes on.
My treasured memories are during the small groups, a twelve year old taught me something about my faith that, although I had heard it a hundred times before, had never really taken it in and understood it. Their simple outlook and explanation really hit home with me and blew me away and the smile on their face when I told them that they had taught me something was amazing. Sitting outside in the sun, drinking tea, discussing a band with a teen that we both love. I loved this conversation because we went from discussing our love for the music to how in the lyrics you could hear that these people have everything that a lot of people long for (fame, money etc) but are desperately lonely and unhappy. This led to discussing the Christian faith, topics we had covered earlier in the week and then back to the music. It was a natural flowing conversation and it was great to connect with the young people and to hear their views and thoughts. Watching the youngsters participate in the talent show - we had a rapper, a guitarist, a rocker (who did Paint It Black, totally rocked), a singer (Your song) which brought tears to my eyes and a dance act (cha cha slide). These youngsters were fantastic! I was so proud of each and every one of them for being brave enough to get up there and perform and their gifts were amazing. They bought tears to my eyes and I'm not one that easily cries. Finally, my most treasured memory, on the last morning, the youngsters were asked to remain standing if they had experienced God throughout the week or had decided to have a relationship with Him. In all honesty, I expected most of them to sit down. In truth, only 5 or 6 sat down. Out of 43 children, about 37 teenagers remained standing for God. To see God working in them, touching their lives, it was awesome and humbling. I was astounded and yes, I cried. The beauty, seeing God work, witnessing this was brilliant. I struggle to try and describe it. Amazing.
So after this, we made sure that our youngsters knew about clubs, meetings, etc that they could come along to so that they can grow within the faith. Then it was time to say goodbye. There were tears, photos, hugs, waving and suddenly it was quiet. The leaders packed away all the tech stuff, checked the dorms were clean and that was us away. Of course, my story doesn't quite end there.
In my small car I had 4 people and something like 8 bags/cases (I was giving lifts to the train station). Hubby was squashed into the back along with a suitcase and tall dude who had his suitcase on his lap with our youngster in the front (who couldn't help but giggle and occasionally mention the leg room that they plenty of). Well, I had to stop for ferry tickets (yes another ferry) and as I came out of the shop I saw hubby squeezing back into the car. I thought that I would be helpful and closed the back door as I got in so that he wouldn't have to. Instead of a thank you I was greeted with a howl and a moan that I had now hurt his side. Tut, no gratitude. On the ferry, tall dude, youngster and I are chatting whilst hubby is mumbling away to himself. On the road hubby carries on moaning that it hurt when I shut the door. After a while I told him to shut up and stop being such a drama queen. I had apologised and I won't shut the door for him again. Well, after a hospital trip on Sunday, turns out I'd busted his ribs when I shut the door, oops. That's me eating humble pie then.
God bless.
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