Growing up

It appears I am actually, despite all appearances, (and some people's opinions) growing up.  Recently I was getting worried that I might be turning into my father, since I'd noticed some of his traits and temprament in myself.  Not a good thing.  I'm hoping some recent events were mostly a biproduct of being stressed and not an actual trend towards getting angry when things didn't go right. 

And yet now it seems I was wrong.  I actually appear to be turning into my mother.  Sometimes I sound like her, talk about the same things, laugh like her, even sometimes look like her or use her expressions.  For ages it's been a joke amongst some of my friends that I'm something of a parent (ever since I started counting people when we were in Edinburgh a few years ago...).  It probably has something to do with me almost invariably being the one who notices when the house is low on toilet roll, or a bill needs paying; and always having a tissue or safety pin.

For the last two or three years I've been going through what my friends and I call 'the marriage phase' where pretty much everyone I knew at uni or from church was getting married.  Nowadays I struggle to think of couples among my friends who've been together more than a couple of months and who aren't married or engaged.  Not that this is a bad thing at all, it's just one of those phases.

But it seems this phase is beginning to come to an end.  So far there's only four or so weddings of couples I know happening this year.  It's moving on.  The 'baby phase' is beginning.  Several couples, mostly two or three years older than me but including one where the wife is younger than me, are having or have had their first child this year.

It's interesting to observe.  It's even more interesting to see on Facebook that people from my year at secondary school have children  who are now several years old.  And yet at least one friend is still surprised by the youth of the brides/grooms/parents who are a year or two older than me.  Is there an 'average' age for these things?  My circle of friends is affected by the number of Christians (especially of the evangelical, no sex outside marriage, sort) and perhaps this distorts the numbers in favour of early marriage.  But the age of the couple leaving full time education seems to affect this too, as many of those I knew who left school at 16 or 18 are already parents compared to those who I know from university. 

Perceptions of the family, and therefore the ages of each stage have changed throughout history.  What 'family' can be said to mean now is an endless debate.  I was amused to realise that according to official surveys and suchlike, I would probably be considered the head of my 'household' as the main income earner.  Is that why I seem to be taking on the role of a parent?  I doubt it- I think it's just the curse of being well organised!

So do I mind that I'm turning into my mother?  Not really.  It seems I'm destined to 'mother' the people around me, to care about them and worry about them, to try to help and look after them.  But it could be worse!

Looking outward

It's my opinion that as Christians we should be looking out more than we look in.  We have to connect with the world around us- the world of people outside the Church, who don't share our beliefs.  So I've always tried to make sure I don't get so caught up in church stuff that I loose all meaningful contact with those outside the church.  At the moment I'm fortunate enough to have some great friends, most of whom don't share my beliefs.  But sometimes I struggle because the assurances I have about my Christian friends just aren't there for my friends who aren't Christians.

This is something that's struck me over the last few days through WordLive readings.  Today's was about grieving.  For a Christian who believes that death is not the end, illness and death, though still unpleasant because of the pain and sense of loss, aren't quite as fearful as they could be.  There is hope beyond death.  And so, the notes say, we should grieve differently, because we are comforted by this hope.

All that is true.  But what if the person we're grieving for- a friend or family member- doesn't know God?  In a way that makes it even harder for a Christian to grieve, makes it something to be feared all the more.  Christianity is certainly not a soft option in that circumstance.

This is a problem I keep coming across when I'm praying for my friends.  Praying for myself, I know about all the promises that God will care for his people, will answer their prayers, that we shouldn't worry because he will provide what we need.  And I know- although sometimes I forget- that this is true, that whenever I have really been struggling either through lack of money, worries about housing, or not having a job, or when I've been feeling really down and hopeless, lonely and worthless- God has provided for me.  Maybe he's not given me what I want- the perfect job/ sufficient money not to have to be careful/ complete freedom from feeling rubbish, but he has given me what I need- enough money, somewhere to live, friends to sympathise and cheer me up.

But when I see my friends in need- through illness, or unemployment, or stress- I don't have those assurances.  When I pray for myself, I know that however much I struggle, in the end things will have worked out according to God's plan.  The journey may be hard, but I know I will reach the destination in the end.  There will be a good ending.  But with my friends I don't know that this will happen- that everything will be all right in the end.  I know God loves them- but since they don't care about him, do promises like Matthew 6 vs 25-34 -"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" -apply to them?  They are promises given to God's children.  And will they allow God to help them, or reject what he might want to do to help them out of a desire for independence?  

That doesn't stop me praying for them, though.  Because there's also the promise that God answers prayer, not in the way I always want or expect, but in his much better way, seen from his perspective outside space and time.  Perhaps I should be sure that God will answer my prayers to help my friends.  I know that he has their- as well as my- best interests at heart.  Perhaps what I want isn't the best or right thing for them- perhaps what God does or doesn't do to help them would be better.  I don't know.  But I trust that God does.  

And yet I often spend more time worrying about my friends' well being than about my own.  Perhaps that's taking looking outward to the extreme.  And yet perhaps that's better than not caring.

Advent 09- Housemates

I was at a very good concert last night performed by this choir.  Over the last few years many of my friends have been part of this choir, so I've been to hear them many times.

The previous few evenings had been rather different, encompassing juggling, cushion violence and random conversations.  Very, very random!  One thing they all had in common was late nights.

But what do these different ways of spending an evening had in common?

They all involve my housemates.  And they are certainly a Good Thing.

One thing you quickly learn when you move away from home is the importance of the people you live with.  It's often been said that 'friends are the family you choose for yourself' and this is certainly true with housemates.  Whether it's making sure there's enough milk in the fridge or fetching medicines for someone when they're ill, housemates can make your life a misery or a joy.  If you get on well with your housemates they can start taking the place of family, providing emotional and practical support for each other.  You often find that that someone (or more than one) will start to take on almost parental roles.  I'm a mum.  I know I am.

I've been pretty fortunate with my housemates over the years.  There have certainly been one or two oddities, but on the whole we've got on pretty well.  Some have become very close friends- I lived with one person for five years, if you include first year halls.  Some years I've worried about whether I'd be able to find anyone to live with, or whether people would be able to commit to deciding where they would live in time, but every year so far it's worked out, and I'm sure it will in the future.  I believe that's an answer to prayer, especially when I see some of the stresses other people have had.

And my current housemates are lovely people, and we get on very well, and I'm very thankful to them.  They might be surprised to hear it, but they are both answers to prayer.  I was more worried about housing this year than any previous one, but it turned out all right in the end.  I should probably learn to be more trusting!

Advent 09- Friends

Today my Good Thing is something- or some people- that I am really very thankful for.  My friends.

I was quite a lonely kid at school.  Through most of primary and secondary school I didn't really fit in- I didn't like the same music, wasn't interested in talking only about boys, didn't hang around the swings after school drinking and smoking.  In a way, I was too intellectual to fit in with half my year group, and too shy to push my way into the other half- the clever and cool half.

It wasn't really until sixth form, when people from several other schools joined ours and everyone was mixed around a bit, that I found any proper friends, people who had interests beyond pop stars and who fancies who, people who would notice when you were upset and try to help.  Before that, I'd either been alone or hung around the edges of gangs of people who couldn't care less about me- who would join in with the laughing and name calling when the bullies turned up- to make sure they didn't become the next victim.

But it was once I got to uni that I really found friends I could relax with and trust, friends from the CU and church and from G&S.  People who actually liked me as a person, and who are there, willing to listen, when something goes wrong.  That's the kind of friends I'm very grateful for.  Friends who, when I first met them, I never imagined that a few years later I would be helping them prepare for their weddings, or going on holiday with them, or living with them for five years.  And yet- those things have happened.

My friends are wonderful people, and an answer to many prayers, even if they don't realise it.  I've already thanked them once in this series.  But they're worth more than that.  So thank you again, all my friends, and I hope I can be as good a friend to you as you are to me.

Advent 09- Thank you!

A friend of mine is doing a blog advent calendar.  I liked the idea, and thought I'd nick it- trying to do a post (a short one) around a single theme every day from now till Christmas.  It probably won't work out quite like that, but here goes.

I'm going to try and blog about something good every day.  Thinking about some of my previous posts I realise they come over a bit negative and depressed or frustrated (usually reflecting how I'm feeling at the time) so I think having to come up with something good every day will be good for me.  Maybe it'll be something I like about my church, or a friend, or a book or reading that's helped me.  Maybe something to give thanks for, something God has done for me or someone else (past or present), an answer to prayer, something that's encouraged me.  I don't know whether I'll manage it, but I'm going to have a go!

So, where do I start?  Well, having started by saying that my posts and my attitude can get quite negative at times, I think I should start by being thankful that both God and my friends are long-suffering and put up with me!  Really, guys, if you've ever had to listen to me moaning about something, then thank you.  It means a lot.  Thanks for your patience and for caring.

And thank you all for reading and putting up with me :)  Happy Advent!

Holiday season

A friend of mine has just written a post about the idea of 'staycations,' ie holidays in your home country. Since pretty much every holiday I've ever had (unless you count a couple of school trips) is a 'staycation' by this definition I have to admit to being slightly puzzled by all the fuss. Is the difference between holidays abroad and holidays in the UK really so big? Why isn't the UK a good enough tourist destination for some people- why doesn't it count as a 'proper' holiday, which is an implication of the term 'staycation'?

I went on holiday with some friends last week. It was only 3 nights and I wish it had been a bit longer, but I enjoyed it. It didn't rain at all during the day (unlike last year!) which is an important factor when you're camping. We went by trains, which (most surprisingly!) all ran on time. We carried all our tents and camping gear with us, which isn't the easiest thing to do by train and by foot, although I admit we cheated and got a taxi from the station to the campsite and back because we couldn't face carrying it, and were a bit concerned about time.

We were camping in the Peak District- Buxton, to be precise. We were there, not just because it is a lovely area (although I can remember some good holidays in the Peaks as a child) but mostly because it's where the International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival is held every year. This is the third year we've been. The first time, like this, was perfect camping weather during the day- not too hot, but pleasantly warm, with very little rain although it rather cold at night this year. Last year sadly was something of a washout, and a leaking tent didn't help! But we were close enough to civilisation and a warm, dry theatre to sit in in the evenings (not to mention local pubs!) so we survived!

So this year we were happy to divide our days between wandering the countryside looking for an elusive waterfall, patronising the local shops, (particularly the second hand bookshop!) and 'fringe' events at the festival. In the evenings there were G&S performances, we saw excellent productions of The Grand Duke, The Gondoliers and Princess Ida. Not to mention disturbing the local wildlife (and probably the local population) with our singing. And drinking tea.

The point I'm trying to make is that we had a good time. Obviously this kind of trip wouldn't be to everyone's tastes! But would I rather do that or have what many people consider a 'proper' holiday lounging on a Spanish beach? Well, I think that might get a bit boring after a day or two. Of course, I wouldn't mind a bit of sunshine, and a swim in the sea. But do you know, I think I'd choose Buxton with my friends. And the G&S.

Sharing

I'm not sure if I should publish this post. But here goes. It's not aimed at anyone in particular or with the intention of making anyone feel uncomfortable. It's just a metaphor for how I feel sometimes.

Imagine that you have discovered something- a piece of information, perhaps, or a book or a film or a place or an experience, which has made a big impact on you. You think it's amazing, and has made a difference to your life (OK that sounds like a big claim, but just imagine).

So naturally you want to tell your friends about this amazing thing. You try to talk to them about it and the effect it's had on you- maybe that's hard, but you try. Or you invite them to somewhere they can see or read it for themselves.

And they generally respond in one of three ways. Most often they're just not interested. They think it's nice that you like it, but it's not for them, it's not their cup of tea. Perhaps they can't understand what you see in it, they think you're a bit strange. Perhaps they're cynical about something that has those kind of effects.

Or they are interested, but they don't do anything about it, for any number of valid reasons. Perhaps they have too much on, or can't access it, or just don't feel they can cope. But for one reason or another it passes them by and they loose interest.

Or perhaps they take offence at what you're saying. They think that you feel that you're better than they are because of what you've seen, or read, or been to. They get annoyed, refuse to listen. Perhaps they treat you with suspicion, thinking you've been brainwashed.

So perhaps you give up for a while. But you can't keep quiet for long about something that's such a big part of your life, and some time later you try again to interest your friends in whatever it is you're so enthusiastic about. But you get a similar response. It's difficult, because you don't want to annoy your friends by harping on about something they don't care about, because you know that'll only put them off more. But this thing is really important to you, and you want to share it with your friends, so you keep trying, without much success. No one does anything about it; despite all your invitations, nobody comes.

This hurts. When you care deeply about something and, because of your love for your friends, you want them to understand and recognise that thing to be real, but they don't, it saddens you.

Some people react in an even worse way. They accuse you and people like you of being not just wrong, but acting in a way that is evil. They say you are trying to drag people into a dangerous cult, a group that destroys people by taking away their capacity for rational thought or freedom to do as they please. They think you should be stopped from talking about this thing that to you is so wonderful and liberating that you want everyone to know about it. They think that it is harmful, and that you are either sadly misguided or trying to harm other people mentally or even physically. Because some of the people who claim to agree with you have acted in ways that are wrong, they think you are all tarred with the same brush and lack credibility.

This hurts even more. Especially when you can see that your friends are more willing to accept this negative view of what you believe than they are to accept what you say about it.

Perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised. In the parable of the sower Jesus describes the different responses people would make to the message that he brought, a message of God's love for all humanity and of restoration for the world. Sometimes people would hear the message, but not understand, and it would just pass them by. Sometimes people would listen to the message, but not put down deep enough 'roots' to allow them to cope when tough times come. Sometimes people would listen to the message, but other things going on in their lives would drown it out and distract them from doing anything about it.

But sometimes people would listen, and would take the message of God's love on board and believe, going on to spread the 'seeds' of the message to many other people. I suppose the right response in the light of this is just to try and deal with the hurt- not to ignore it, because it can lead to prayer and crying out to God for my friends, which is a good thing- and not to give up. Because some of these 'seeds' will, I hope, be like the ones that fell on the good soil, and will be fruitful in their turn. I hope.

Invitation

I'm often sad that so many of my friends seem to have only a negative- or at best uninterested- view of the church and Christianity. They've come across things that have put them off. Or they can't understand things, or feel they cannot accept things, or feel excluded. So they aren't interested in the church, and pay no attention to it- or worse, consider everything relating to it and to faith in a negative light.

But I'd like to offer all of you an invitation. From the evening of Monday 6th July there will be a FREE cafe in my church, St Michael le Belfrey, next to the Minster. It's running during the day and evening during that week.

Monday 6th July: 8pm-10.30pm
Tuesday 7th- Thursday 9th July: 11am-4pm, 8pm-10.30pm

Friday 10th July: 11am-4pm with an evening youth event

and also in the Minster on Saturday 11th July between 11am and 4pm (all being well!).

You can come in for free tea, coffee, juice and homemade cake, or just for a sit down. No one's going to try to make you do, say or sing anything, it really is free, no strings attached. We just want to serve people, to give them something for nothing, as a gift. I should know what it's going to be like, I've been helping organise things. I'm your friend, you can trust me (hopefully!)

So please come!

One of those personal posts

I woke up this morning in the same mood I went to bed in: somewhat melancholy and wistful. The reasons are complicated, and partly to do with an ongoing situation which I'm not happy with, but partly to do with what I was thinking about last night.

Friends had asked me to look after their hamster and water their vegetable plants while they're on holiday. I was quite happy to agree, but it was only afterwards that I was thinking that it was rather a grown-up request. He's a year or so older than me and she is a year younger, they've been married almost a year, and although I'm not suggesting that anyone's life is perfect, in some ways I can't help feeling a little jealous.

Sometimes I feel that I- and probably other people in a similar phase of life- have most of the responsibilities of adulthood- being expected to support and take care of one's self, and probably others to some degree; not being able to get away with things that people would excuse in children or students- you get the idea. But at the same time we don't get the benefits or rewards of being grown up. People still- at least in my case- refuse much of the time to treat me as a proper adult; because I look younger than I am and still have friends who are students, because I'm single, because I don't have a proper graduate job, because I share a house with other people rather than living alone or being married, which is of course the ultimate sign that you are an adult, apart perhaps from having children.

It's not really loneliness, I have some great friends who I know I can trust and rely on- much as I poke fun at some of them! It's more a sort of wistfulness for things I don't have and don't really expect to have, at least any time soon. And a feeling that in some ways, I'm missing out. When you've grown up, as I have, with older parents you can't ignore that at some point in your life you are going to need people close to you to help you, usually family. You also can't ignore the fact that while your contemporaries' parents will be there for them for a good while yet, yours are already approaching the stage where they are the ones needing help. Perhaps knowing that they won't be here forever is one of the things making me somewhat envious of those who have found someone who will always be there for them.

Working in a solicitors' where we see a fair number of people coming in to discuss care for their elderly relatives probably adds to the feeling, as does the sheer number of friends' weddings taking place this year. It's also something it's quite hard to talk about. When I say jealous, I don't mean resentful. I'm glad my friends are happy in that respect, and I recognise too that they have their problems and worries.

I like to try and resolve these posts and put something positive at the end. But I'm struggling here. It's not that I'm incredibly upset or anything about this, it's just a sort of background feeling that's occasionally brought to the fore by something, and makes me go quiet and thoughtful for a bit. In a way trying to rationalise feelings doesn't really work, because they're not completely rational. I guess I need to remember that I have got some great friends, even if they're not all as close as I would like, and that I have a lot to be glad about. And to avoid sitting in church feeling annoyed because certain preachers assume that everyone is (or at least soon will be) married.

P.S. And to continue the theme of the day... news that another baby will be joining my extended family. So come Christmas I'll be getting yet more of the 'when will it be your turn?' questions and looks. Ah well!

Don't Panic!

Things we haven't all died of yet:
vCJD
SARS
The Millennium Bug (ok, our computers haven't died, but you know what I mean)
Mobile phones
Bird Flu
Snow
Swine Flu

Obviously that doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful, or take precautions where it's appropriate. To be honest, the things we're being told to do to avoid swine flu (use a tissue, wash your hands) are things that should be basic hygiene anyway. But don't panic! Panic is probably the best thing we could do to make things worse. And so far, for those of us safely in Britain, the actual spread of the virus doesn't warrant it.

It reminds me of something said recently about Matthew 6: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?" Jesus isn't saying "don't think about the future or take responsibility for planning for it." He's saying that we need to trust God and not ourselves. We're not to panic, because if God is the focus of our life, and where we put our energy and values, then everything else falls into perspective from that. Get the big thing right, and the rest will follow. It's not easy to remember, especially when your instincts are telling you to panic, but in the long run it's better than living a life constantly anxious and afraid of what might happen.

It's something I haven't quite managed to get my head round yet. In some areas I think I may be getting there. Some of the time. Being unemployed and working voluntarily for the church helped there! It's somehow easier to rely on faith when there isn't anything else anyway! But in other ways I still struggle- for example, I worry a lot about other people, and I'm not sure how trust and faith work in that situation. One day it'll make sense. At least, I hope so!

My faith

I thought I'd follow up my post on faith and what it is by describing my own faith, and how I came to have it, in the hope it might make the previous post make more sense.

So, where did it all begin? Like so many Christians, I was fortunate enough to grow up in a family where my parents had faith and shared it with me from a young age. My father still has the pictures that he drew to amuse me in church when I was only a toddler. Then I moved on to Sunday school (or junior church as we called it) and went through the various age groups until I was about 11, by which point I was the only person in the church between the ages of about 6 and 45. Fed up with just being expected to help the smaller children rather than learning anything myself, I started going into "big church" to sit with my mother (my dad was usually at another of our group of churches preaching).

I think that's when I learnt not to blindly accept everything one is taught (whoever is doing the teaching), but to critically evaluate it against what you already know. Methodist churches have what I think is a very good practice of encouraging (trained) lay people to preach, but some of the local preachers didn't have such a good grasp of the centre of the faith and biblical teaching as perhaps they should have done. I've heard some 20 minute sermons where it's 15 minutes into the talk before God or the Bible was even mentioned! But I did learn, not just from church services but also from reading by myself.

I've always loved reading. As a small child my parents read with me, not just Thomas the Tank Engine and Mog the cat but children's bible story books (I hope I still have them somewhere!) and went through activity books based round bible stories with me. When I got older I read fiction books by Christian authors, and (with periods of not being bothered) used children's bible study notes. What I missed out on was the joy of being with other people my age who shared my beliefs, worshipping and learning with them and being able to share experiences and difficulties. There simply weren't any young people's groups locally. Every summer I went to a holiday club run by a church in Norwich, which gave me a real 'buzz' and a sense of what I was missing the rest of the year. I probably learnt more in a week there than I did the rest of the year at my own church.

All this might sound to some people suspiciously like indoctrination. They'd say that children brought up in this kind of environment can't choose whether or not to be part of a faith. They protest that children shouldn't be forced into something they might otherwise have chosen to reject. I understand their objections, but really don't think they need to worry. Many young people do reject their parents' faith in their teens, either because they decide it's not for them or because once they have the option they just don't care any more. That's a problem the church has to address. And merely taking part in the rituals and routeins of church life doesn't make you a Christian- it's the decision to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour which does that, and that is something between the individual and God, at whatever age the commitment is made.

I made that decision for myself at about the age of eight, as the result of a book I'd been reading (Treasures of the Snow by Patricia St John, a bit old-fashioned but that's not something you realise aged 8!). I think the main thing that influenced me was the idea that God was bigger than all our problems and would be with us all the time and we wouldn't need to be afraid. I just prayed and asked Jesus to "come in" to my life. It wasn't a big deal and I don't remember telling anyone about it at the time, or feeling any different because of the decision. I don't think children find these things as strange or creepy as adults do.

I'd never been a popular child and had experienced a bit of bullying during primary school, but once I'd got to secondary school this got a lot worse. A lot of it was to do with ways in which I was different from other people- I didn't swear, for example,- many of which had something to do with my faith. People I had thought were friends started to either join in the bullying or just ignore it- standing out was dangerous and would have led to them being bullied too. I was hurt by this betrayal, as it seemed, and tended to spend a lot of time by myself. I was lonely, but I knew God was with me and cared about me, even if I didn't understand why my prayers asking for friends and freedom from the bullies weren't answered.

Like many Christians, I often experienced doubts- what if I've got it wrong? What if there is no God, or if I've got the wrong one? When I was fifteen I went on a holiday run by Scripture Union called Harriers. That was the first time in years I had been with other Christians my own age, and I learnt so much and had a great time (and went back for the next six years). It was also the first time that I can say I had an experience of the Holy Spirit. While we were singing the worship song My Jesus, My saviour I suddenly knew that it was true. Jesus was my saviour, he loved me, even though I didn't deserve it. From then on I have had very few doubts about God's existence, because I know he is real. I've felt him at work in my life. Again, it wasn't something to shout about, nothing exciting, but enough to convince me of the reality of God. Not everyone has an experience like that which they can point. And of course my faith in God rests on far more than just one evening's experience.

So there you are. Once I got to uni and joined the Christian Union and St Michael le Belfrey church, my journey of faith changed course and seemed to move up a gear as I learnt a lot about God and began to discover what his plan for me might be. But the really important bit was that by then I had decided that I trusted God. I made the decision, on the basis of hearing about God, that I wanted to know him, to be his friend. So I'd asked him to be part of my life, and he became part of what I was and am. My life would probably have been very different if I hadn't made that decision. But I'm glad I did.

Facing the uncertain future

My mother came to visit at the weekend. Whilst I love spending time with her and hearing about the rest of the family, it always (unintentionally) serves to remind me about things I'd prefer not to dwell on. My parents are both fairly elderly, and I know I can't expect them to be around forever. It's even possible that I, being without other ties, might find myself in a position where I have to look after and take responsibility for them.

It reminds me of something I am afraid of. In a few years I'm likely to have to face being alone in the world, without people who I can call on for back up if everything goes wrong. The rest of my family are scattered around the country, but none live near me, and they all have their own families (spouses, children) and own priorities, so I'm not that close to any of them.

I have friends whom I love and trust, but I know only too well that once people are separated by distance or gain other priorities like careers or partners, it's easy to drift apart. Communication, even in the current digital age, has to be a two-way thing, and I know some of my closest friends struggle with that even when they're only away for a few weeks. I've often struggle with making friends, and I've had so many 'friends' who it's turned out don't really care, or who haven't kept in contact once they moved away. I am so grateful for those who do listen and are there when I need someone. And who I can be there for- the reciprocal side of friendship.

There's a general apprehension of the impermanence of my current situation. My current job, while (hopefully) stable is not something I want to do for any longer than I have to (mainly for financial reasons). I need to find somewhere to live (and people to live with) from the summer, and that's made more complicated by the fact that I don't earn much and that many of my friends (and potential housemates) are uncertain of their own futures.

I wouldn't describe my attitude towards the future as fear, or even as worry (most of the time!) although there are some pretty daunting challenges to face up to. I know that I can rely on God, I trust that whatever happens is part of his plan- even though I don't understand how- and that even if it seems rubbish good will come of it. I wouldn't want to be without that certainty. And part of me says that God is always with me, whatever happens, so I don't need to worry about being alone. But while I know that's true, it doesn't stop me wishing. God created us for relationships- with friends, most of all with him- and he frequently used friends to do his work in comforting and helping us.

It's a selfish want, of course, but I do wish, sometimes, that I could have the security of knowing that there will always be someone- a friend, a partner; whatever, just someone- who I can go to when I'm in trouble, who I can rely on to be there when I need them. Because yes, I'm afraid that in a few years' time there will be no one left who can say they love me.

Show stress

I've spent a lot of time this last few weeks helping to get ready for the show we're putting on next week- The Mikado, University of York Central Hall, 26th-28th February, see our website for more info! Administration and organisation (booking rooms, completing the paperwork- there's soo much!), building the set, sewing the costumes, putting up posters, proofreading programmes, every aspect of what goes on. Not to mention rehearsals!

Those of us on the committee seem to most often be the ones putting in the most effort- unsurprisingly, in a way, because we're the ones who've shown ourselves most committed to the society. That's why we're on the committee. Others, often ex-committee members or new members (the committee members of the future, mwahaha) also put in a lot of effort. But there are also always a few people who seem to (without meaning to criticise them) put less in to making the show happen, who are quite willing to let others do the work, who can't turn up because they have work (paid or uni work) to do. And that's understandable. But some people manage to do all that, and take an active part in the show as well. I guess it's all down to priorities.

For some of us, the society is one of our main ways of socialising, the other members are close friends. For others it's a more casual relationship than a long-term commitment. And that's fine, the greater commitment isn't for everyone. But too many of that kind of people, and those of us who are always to be relied upon, the 'geeky' ones, end up with a lot of work.

Because as well as those who do their fair share, there are some who do far more than their fair share and yet still come back the next day, knowing that there's a job to be done if the show is to happen and that someone's got to do it, because the show must go on! I'm afraid that's usually me. But I'm starting to wonder if sometimes people rely on those of us like that too much, if they assume that they needn't turn up because we'll be there and it'll all be fine.

So I'd like to try and take a step back, to see what happens. Because if there are other people who will then step forward and take things on, they should have the chance to. And if there aren't- well that's another problem. But I know the trouble- if I see something that needs to be done not being done it'll either frustrate me- or I'll end up stepping forward to do it anyway.

The other thing that bugs me sometimes is that I end up doing a lot and putting a lot of effort into the show- but I'm not one of the people who gets a chance to really 'own' the show and put their creative influence on it. I'm in the chorus. I'm the ordinary member (read: general dogsbody and odd-job person) running around cleaning paintbrushes and remembering all the little jobs that everyone else is too busy to remember. Being that extra soprano that isn't really needed and I'm sure would not be missed (10 points if you spotted the quote!) And these are good, important things to do, I know. And I don't want for a second to say that the people who do direct, or are principals don't deserve to be, or that they're not much better at it than I would be, but sometimes I wish I had the chance to be something more. Doubt it'll happen though! Too many other good (and more obviously talented) candidates!

So, if you're in York or the surrounding area next week, some and see our show! It's going to be great, and (despite all my moaning!) worth the hard work!