The sermon, indeed the whole service, on Sunday was on the subject of stewardship – stewardship of our money, stewardship of our time, stewardship of our talents. A very thought-provoking service that set me a-musing. No, not amusing, but amusing (though some of my musing was quite amusing, I have to admit).

I felt quite comfortable, in an uncomfortable kind of a way, as we were asked to contemplate our own stewardship and our plans for 2010. Strangely comforting, for me who used to question the sanity of those who said God spoke to them clearly, to find that God was speaking to me clearly. You may not agree with what I type here, but I am at peace with God over it, and you can come to your own place of peace which may be at total odds to mine, but that’s fine.

We were given a sheet of paper, a “personal stewardship plan for 2010″ upon which to jot down our thoughts during the service. Some times in my life this kind of thing has been useful. For a moment yesterday I felt guilty and uncomfortable for feeling resistant to it, but then I realised that it was not because I felt forced into making a commitment, but that I felt it might force me to restrict my commitment – to concentrate on the tenth that I was being asked to focus on rather than the 100% and more (more? Yes, it feels like more) that God has given me to use for his service. I realised I don’t need to feel guilty for not tithing, because I don’t actually believe in tithing. Was this a selfish thought or was God at peace with it too? I believe the latter… and I realised why I could feel happy in that thought. I did an hour’s shift at work before church, came home and had a nap, and overslept. I had time to get myself ready and then drive to church, or to go as I was and walk. And as I deliberated, I had a clear thought. “You don’t need to get changed – you were with Me while you were in work as well as in church so those clothes are fine. And you don’t need to sort out your bag so that you’ve got your glasses, pen and diary as today is not the day for making commitments that you put in writing. The sleep has done you good – now just come and be with Me.”

After the service I walked into an argument.. well, not an argument, but someone holding forth at the minister that we are given eight hours to work to earn the money to fulfil our needs, eight hours to sleep to revitalise our bodies so that we are able to work, and eight hours of leisure which we should be tithing, and that nobody should be spending more than eight hours working, sleeping or at leisure. I resisted the temptation to say “twaddle”, but it set me thinking even more. Time, talents, money – they’re not distinguishable gifts but all interlinked. For me, what God expects of me is that I accept these gifts with love and gratitude and that I use them, not only for my own wellbeing, but to serve him and others. Not 90% for me and 10% for Him. Not even 10% for me and 90% for Him. But Him in me… and 100% for us both.

So how do I count the work I do, to which I truly believe I was called by God? It takes my time. It really takes my talents. It takes my money (seeing as I had to take a major income cut to take the job). In earning the money to keep myself and the boys going, I am still serving God and my neighbour in the work I do and my attitude to it. So I am expected to be humble and to serve; to be amenable even when I feel grumpy and industrious even when I feel lethargic; to share my faith through my actions and sometimes even through my words; to willingly do not only my fair share, but more than my fair share, without complaint or seeking thanks or praise or reward. And how do I use my leisure time? That too involves my money and my talents as well as my time, but not only in what I volunteer to do within my community, but the presence I have with those around me, the care I take of my environment, my awareness of the presence of God and my conversations with him as the day goes by. Do I use my time positively or negatively? (I feel an embargo on Bejewelled Blitz coming on) Creatively or passively? With God or ignoring God? Do I do my best for my family and strive for their wellbeing, or do I put myself first? The assertive congregant at church claimed that caring for your family was part of your leisure as having children was what you chose to do and caring for them was pleasure. I disagree – my children were a gift from God – both of them – and in caring for them I am serving God as well as doing what I can for those I love dearly and getting that warm feeling inside that I am promoting their wellbeing.

The service and the sermon were incredibly helpful to me. My reluctance to write down my commitment for 2010 was not that I felt threatened by it, but that I felt restricted. God has given me so much, but it’s all on loan. He has fulfilled my every need, and more besides, and given me the opportunities to share in fulfilling the needs of others. We were asked in the service to name some of the blessings that we had experienced in the previous week. Hardly anyone spoke, me included. But not because I couldn’t think of any. Because I had so many that it was impossible to pick just one. And I guess many people felt the same.

So this is my prayer for 2010, my stewardship commitment for the coming year.

I am no longer my own but yours.
Your will, not mine, be done in all things,
wherever you may place me,
in all that I do
and in all that I may endure;
when there is work for me
and when there is none;
when I am troubled
and when I am at peace.
Your will be done
when I am valued
and when I am disregarded;
when I find fulfilment
and when it is lacking;
when I have all things,
and when I have nothing.
I willingly offer
all that I have and am
to serve you,
as and where you choose.

(excerpt from the Methodist covenant service)

OK, I hereby declare my intention of spending the next half hour a)vertical and b)sorting the kitchen out. At 10.15 I will reward myself with a cup of coffee and five minutes playing bejewelled. If you see me here before then, feel free to nag. And if you hear snoring, well, er, perhaps I need that coffee all the sooner!

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Doing well – just got to keep this up. I did half an hour, with some serious help in the kitchen in the form of my MP4 player, the Smudgelet’s speakers, and Mamma Mia. The drain’s still blocked, but I called the landlord and there’s someone coming to furk out all the gunk and clean it – in the meantime the laundry will have to wait and the bowlsful of washing up water are being carried to the toilet – probably as good a form of exercise as any I’ve done two bowlsful of washing up already, cleared the fridge out, sorted the rubbish, and am feeling quite pleased with myself – focussing on the pleasure of completing a task and on the challenge of the next task ahead of me rather than letting myself think about the rest of the work that needs doing. Flylady would be proud of me, even if my sink isn’t shiny yet.

The timer is now set for a 15 minute break, complete with mug of coffee (bother, more washing up!) and then I’ll be up and at it again for half an hour.

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Another break now and motivation still pretty good. The kitchen’s pretty good too. Still plenty to fill my time in there between now and work, but I can see my progress and that’s always a bit of a boost, isn’t it? Mind you, Mr Tesco was a bit of an interruption, though I’m glad I’d reached the stage where I could happily say to him “Bring the shopping through to the kitchen” rather than “It’s OK, you can just leave it here in the hall”.

The Tesco Man also brought me a treat. No, not a box of chocolates. And the bottle of wine wasn’t for me, either. But… tada… a new baking tray. I’ve treated myself, seeing as all my baking trays were showing the effects of time and too much use. In fact, I do believe one may have been close to being an antique! I bet I’ll regret binning it, next time Antiques Roadshow is on! But what I don’t regret is my evil plan – I used each of my baking trays in turn before consigning them to the dustbin, and all for mucky things like chicken kiev. That’s some considerable washing up time saved

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Hmm… does eating lunch count as working or having a break? Actually I’m going to count it as both, seeing as I think it would be foolish to do any more work before going to work and doing a 6.5 hour shift, with an early shift to follow tomorrow morning, so I’m going to enjoy my lunch and relax for a bit, content in the knowledge of a job well done. Thank you for being my motivators.. well, you and Abba…. and the Tesco Man.

Yes, it’s official, I have high blood pressure.

Now there’s a surprise!

I did the 24-hour test last week. Actually, I did it the week before as well, but broke the monitor. I joked that I’d broken it, even though it was really that the battery had run out of charge – obviously a dud. But no, it was in fact that I’d broken it. My blood pressure was so high that the cuff had to inflate really very hard indeed to stop the blood flow and so I’d run the brand new batteries down within five hours. The same happened with the second test, but the batteries lasted long enough this time to get sufficient readings, so obviously I was better that time around. No wonder my arm was bruised after the monitoring.
It was rather odd, though, wearing a cuff on my left arm which inflated (to the point of giving me a dead arm) every half hour on the dot. Good job I wasn’t at work! In fact, I had rather a lazy day, which is probably why the batteries lasted longer. And I was a good girl – I resisted the temptation to look at the monitor which gave a reading of my blood pressure each time it was taken. (*uncrosses fingers*). But it looks like blood pressure tablets for me.

The other news from the doctor this morning was an explanation of why I haven’t blogged for ages. Well, not specifically, you understand, as I don’t think she reads my blogs. At least, I hope she doesn’t read my blogs. Especially considering I did only peep at the blood pressure monitor a couple of times. But she might tut a little at the number of mentions of chocolate as a blood pressure lowering medication!

The reason I haven’t blogged for ages is that it’s a side effect of the anti-depressants. Ought to be listed on the information sheet really: “This medication may hamper your ability to blog”. The cure is simple – if I start taking my anti-depressants at bedtime instead of first thing in the morning, I may find it easier to stay awake during the day! I thought it was depression/stress making me sleep and couldn’t understand because other than that I’m feeling pretty good really (apart from getting quite depressed at the fact that the flat is a total mess because I can’t stay awake long enough to get it clean and tidy) – it turns out that it’s not the symptoms causing the problem, it’s the cure!!!! A good illustration of how sleepy I am – the other morning I sneezed and was so sleepy I fell right over – fortunately I was standing next to the bed at the time. Luckily I’m able to control it at work – I feel lethargic but manage somehow not to fall asleep. (Not that there’s ever much opportunity to fall asleep at work!)

Some things are tough at the moment, many things are good, and God and I are walking hand in hand and puzzling it out together. And if I can stay awake long enough to get this post written, maybe I can stay awake long enough to tidy the kitchen. (Though before that I have to steel myself to go outside and prod around in the drain so that the washing up water and washing machine water runs away into the sewers instead of out over my neighbour’s garden! Thank goodness it’s winter – they don’t go into the garden and so I have noticed it before they have as I think it’s been happening for a while. Oops!)

When I was a child, building a snowman was always a dream but never fulfilled. My dad was always working, it seemed, when the opportunity arose and I had no brother and sisters at home to help. I’d start rolling the snowball to build up into the body, but would lose heart before it got much bigger than a snowball. A sad, sad tale indeed. And my friends were more interested in snowball fights, probably having learnt for themselves the monotony of amassing that initial mountain of snow that is necessary before the fun part begins. And when I had kids of my own, I lived in a part of the country where snowman building isn’t a frequent opportunity. So I’d never built a snowman before.

I never dreamed that work would be my first opportunity!

I arrived, having plodded through the snow, to a white world at work and a shout from the back garden “Come and help!” And there, supervised by the children, my colleague had built the most enormous snowman body, determined that this would be the biggest and best snowman ever built at the centre. Hooray! The boring bit was done! My colleague was frozen, so it was now my turn. My turn, and I got to do the fun bits.

The eyes. What to do for the eyes? Nothing was quite right. We tried mini-jaffa-cakes which worked best, but we thought they might not last long, so we finished the packet instead. There were no stones or lumps of coal to be found. I’d better not say what my colleague eventually found which did the trick just perfectly….. I may lose a friend!

We couldn’t find a hat anywhere – well, just one, but it looked silly perched on top of the huge head. Then inspiration hit. Well, the kitchen mop needed a new head on it – it was getting a bit tatty and worn and was much better suited as a snowman’s wig. On top of that, the hat looked just right. (Especially the following morning with a fresh layer of snow on top!)

I’d never built a snowman before, so it was quite something to hear the oohs and ahhs of the other staff next morning when they saw him standing there in the garden, 7 foot high. Several people said “I really like his arms and the mop of hair”. They were my bits

A bit sad this week, mind. A little pile of soggy mop, sodden scarf and hat, frozen carrot and two electric socket protector caps coloured green, lying in a little puddle alongside the broom.

It was a good idea, the idea of giving the Smudgelet responsibility for the washing up for one week. A good idea leaving him to discover that washing up is best done on the day it is created. Less good an idea when I find he’s gone to school and I want a cup of coffee. There is not a single clean mug, plate, dish, knife, fork or spoon in the house. AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH !

Good job I love him. Shame I won’t see him again until tomorrow evening. Or actually, perhaps it’s a good job. His life may depend upon it.

It’s always nice to get a birthday card from a long lost friend through the post.
A bit odd, though, when it’s not your birthday.
Even odder when the long lost friend isn’t anyone you know.
Weird.

I mean, I do know someone called Roy, but I don’t think the card is from him, seeing as I had a Christmas card from him only a few weeks ago. And the other Roy I recall is a teacher from High School and this certainly isn’t him.

No sender’s address, postmark illegible, but nice message:

“With fondest love and blessings for today and every day. Dear Smudgie,” (Well, I think the name was slightly different, but it was my name, nonetheless). “It was (almost) by chance I came across you registered at this address when doing some research at work. I can’t be sure it is the Smudgie I know but there are not many Smudgies about and it is simething you talked of doing long ago. I admire your courage and hope your independance has brought you freedom and the happiness you deserve. Roy.”

Lovely message – I almost wish I was the Smudgie it was intended for.

Suddenly it would appear that the mainland does indeed have its attractions for the Smudgelet. After all, the Island may be Wight but the outskirts of London are really White! When I rang him to tell him school was closed (he was already on his way there on the bus) my ears were pierced by his squeals of delight.

I now need to find out what happens about work. I am on duty this afternoon from 2.30 until 9pm and the snow’s still falling.
Wish I didn’t have such an irritating cough – I’m almost tempted to go out and make a snowman!

It took for ever to de-ice the car this morning. That’s when a 7am start at work simply isn’t fun, especially when you were working until just after 10 the previous evening. There I stood in the darkness, chipping away with the ice-pick while the engine did its level best to warm up quickly enough to assist me in my herculean task.

Mind you, if I thought that was bad, I hadn’t really anticipated the fun of de-icing an entire minibus with the aid of one cassette case (my new invention – a better scraper for scraping ice off windscreens than a proper windscreen ice scraper!) and one kitchen fishslice (plastic, I hasten to add). The latter is now done for. As were my fingers, at least temporarily.

Still, it was nice to get our kids out into the open air for an hour, seeing as the sun was shining. Off to the playpark we went. Brilliant fun. But what about the slide. I happened to find myself at the top of the slide, just as my colleagues were discussing whether it was safe for one of the kids to use it because it was quite icy. So, self-sacrificing hero that I am, I gave it a test run. The slide was rather narrow – I half expected to get stuck at the top, but was quite gratified to find that I could indeed just slide down it, even if it was a bit painful. In fact, I slid down it jolly well. Quite fast, in fact, as the layer of snow and ice accumulated under my trousers and I found myself shooting downwards at great speed. As I reached the ground we discovered that the slide was now quite safe for my colleagues and kids. The layer of ice and snow had gone. It was now all collected at the bottom. And I don’t mean the bottom of the slide!

Still, I soon warmed up while talking to my boss. He reckoned it was purely accidental that his coffee cup did a triple back somersault off his desk and landed, inverted, in my lap. He didn’t even laugh….. much!

Honestly, it’s a dangerous place I work in.

Tell you something, though. How many people can honestly say that, when they find themselves with the prospect of arriving at work twenty minutes early, are actually quite pleased? Though, as all places, it has its stresses (and I am quite utterly exhausted tonight, which is not an unusual state of affairs after four days at work), I am delighted to say that I still really love my job.

But fun though it may be, it’s really rather nice to find myself here at a quarter past eight, tucked up in bed with my laptop (nearly out of battery – know just how it feels), a good book of which I probably shaln’t stay awake long enough to read more than a couple of lines, a mug of white hot chocolate laced with Baileys, and my beddypenguin (just like a beddybear, only cuter!). Good night. Sleep well. I shall!

My sister decided that, bearing in mind the events of the last few years, wishing me a happy new year was a bit optimistic, so we’re making do with wishing a happy new day. In fact, we decided to play safe and stick to “happy new ten minutes” .. which of course necessitated ten minutely phone calls.. but we then realised that this was maybe a bit impractical, seeing as I had a mount-everest of housework to get done before work.

My cat has a bright blue paw. Not sure how or why, but it’s very pretty.

Leaving the car at work the other day and going in by bus and a walk through Richmond Park seemed like a good idea at the time. Seems wrong to be going in to work on New Year’s Day at all.

Yes, I did see the new year in. Not deliberately, I hasten to add. But you’d have thought a kingsize bed and duvet would be big enough for a mother to cope with having her son sleep alongside her for one night – his room was far too noisy for anyone to sleep in, being right next to the pub – but I was wrong. After several kicks and half a night spent without any duvet whatsoever, I gave up and relocated to his room, judging the band and the fireworks less of an endurance trial… or at least a finite one.

This year my brother didn’t ring until about 9. Bless him. I don’t think he’s ever recovered from the “friendly” greeting he got one new year – my sisters rang him at midnight and left a message on his answerphone saying “give us a quick ring when you get in”, expecting him to be home just after midnight. So when he got in, he rang them, and me. 4.30am!!! I think he’s been afraid ever to phone us to wish us a happy new year since then!

Anyway, I wish you the sort of year I wish myself. That your needs are all supplied and some of your desires met. That you be granted strength for the tough times, comfort for the sad times, appreciation for the happy times, and the health and energy to enjoy the fun times to the full. Because one thing is sure, the year will contain all of the above to some degree or other, no matter what our circumstances. But throughout it all, God will be there by our side, living every minute alongside us, and giving us all we need to live the life we’re given.

So my thoughts and prayers are with you for the coming year, and I trust yours are with us too. Lovely place this, isn’t it?

It was wonderful. Doubly wonderful, actually, as there was a second sense of magic which the Smudgelet actually sensed too.

A sort of surreal aura of pleasure at being able to finish work at 2.30 (thank you, dear shift leader, for helping me out by letting me depart slightly early) and by 5.30 be stood in the crowded courtyard of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre (OK, in a reproduction of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, but the most amazing place to be in under any circumstances. Just google it and see!) in anticipation of an evening of magical entertainment. We got right at the front so the Smudgelet’s nose was actually resting on the edge of the stage Did it matter that we were going to be standing for the whole evening? Not a bit of it, even if I was still walking wounded after my adventures of the previous day. Did it matter that it was steadily raining down on us and the Globe theatre is open to the elements? Not in the slightest. In some ways it almost added to it, apart from the persistant drip which performed a sort of water torture by landing on the same tender spot on my left shoulder again and again and again. Once glimpse of the stage and my heart said to me “no matter where we move in the future or what happens, nobody can ever take this experience away from me. It has become part of me. I am in the Globe Theatre, for the second time, and it is pure magic”.

The show was an extravaganza of entertainments in Shakespearean-time style, with lots of exaggerated characters, tightrope walking, humour (including some which quite appealed to the Smudgelet’s schoolboy humour but shocked him that I found it funny too!), bright colours and lots of references to Shakespearean characters which went right over the boy’s head but which were really quite funny. Very visual, very frenetic, great fun. And the perfect end to our Christmassy treats.
As we walked back to the station, we were hard pressed to decide which was our favourite bit as we recalled the entire show bit by bit.

And the Smudgelet turned to me and said “Isn’t it amazing? One minute we were at home, and the next minute we were in the middle of London, in the Globe Theatre”.

Now I have a day off and suddenly it’s down to earth with a bump. My sister and brother-in-law are coming to stay for the weekend and I am suddenly viewing the flat through their eyes. It’s a post-Christmas tip! i could do with some magic – it’s going to take a lot of hard work to get this place habitable by tomorrow!