More drawings...

Drawn for my good friend and colleague, Helena Kittle for her work as the Youth and Childrens Coordinator on the Forever team. check out her blog here ----> 

Aim Lower

Start Date + Festival Outreach

Information postcard being given out at the event

    These are two fliers that I've designed and had printed for an Outreach that has been put together for next week. For the second year running we'll be going to Mind Body Spirit, a new age spiritual festival held in London and visited by thousands of people throughout the week. 

    It's exciting to be going with a team to offer prayer and present Christianity as a valid expression and avenue in exploring spirituality and faith.

More information?

http://www.forever2012.com/other-outreaches/

Start Date + A Game of Pool

While visiting Dorset over Easter I went with a group of friends to the pub for a good old fashioned game of pool.

Sadly though, I didn't frequent pool-table-owning establishments enough in my formative years, and so lacking the practice, I'm rubbish. Splitting into pairs, I tactfully positioned myself with the best player, Martyn so as to deflect my lack of talent on his abundance. 

With the opening break putting us at a disadvantage Martyn was nonplussed and promptly potted 4 balls before handing the cue over for me our next turn. I'd like to say that the balls that rolled around the table during my turns were strategically repositioned but realistically, they weren't. However, despite a few fouls on my part we only the first game ended in only a minor loss.

Beginning the second game Martyn and I developed a strategy in which he told me where roughly to hit the cue ball and enabled me to be a positive contributor to our second game. During a single turn in fact I potted 3 balls in a row and with them my confidence grew. The third game however only served to diminish it.

 Overly trusting of my ability to hold the game, Martyn frequented the bar more regularly and subsequently the gents thus leaving me on my own. Usually the first to assert my independence, I soon floundered when fending for myself and handed our opponents a severe advantage. 

While reflecting on life during a recent run with a friend I complained about my indecision and insecurity concerning certain choices I had before me. Having been party to my above display of pool-playing-skill, my friend used the game as an analogy God's guidance over our choices. 

Under His instruction and guidance I have not only the information but also the confidence to try things out of my strengths and expect successful results. However as our Father, God loves his children and have given us free choice to make decisions for ourselves. Yes, he loves to coach us and will advise us but there is a point when we just have to act and have faith that His Spirit will fill the gaps where our humanity fails. 

I guess my faith has been lacking more recently than I'd like to admit. 

I thought I was only questioning my own ability but I hadn't really allowed myself to think what I was really lacking was faith in God. Thankfully, he is much more faithful to me than often I am to him.

Striving for Peace

The spirit of the Ancient Olympics was peace. Every country participating in the Olympics signs a truce abstaining from violence during the season of the games. Needless to say little is done to follow this through.

To highlight this issue, Michael Bates is walking from Mount Olympus to London with the hope of changing our commitment to the pursuit of peace. 

"I couldn't move the Government an inch on this issue, so I decided to move myself 3500 miles." Michael Bates.  
 
In the light of recent events I think this is particularly important so please, visit the site, sign the petition and encourage Michael on his very brave journey.

Start Date + Wonkey Bagels

Soooooo...

Last Friday I had a friend visiting and in preparation went to purchase extra supplies. In most house holds bread and milk are staple foods, however being wheat-and-dairy-intolerant I rarely have reason to buy them.

Its funny how the smallest things create stress and ironically, catering for a friend with a non-restricted diet was one of them. 

Pressure is an excellent motivator though and so half an hour before my friend arrived I cycled to the shops and before I could be overwhelmed by the baked goods aisle purchased some cinnamon and raisin bagels.


While cutting them for breakfast I successfully manage to divide them into total unequal halves. Because of this only one of the rounds would fit into the toaster and the other I had to grill and this would take longer.


Slightly annoyed I then realised that this actually wasn't the worst plan in the world as by the time the toasted bagel was eaten the second would be ready and neither would be consumed cold. Win!


My friend then commented that this was actually a pretty good illustration of God's plans and ours.


It wasn't my intention to cut the bagels like that and at first it seemed like an inconvenience but it actually worked out for the best. 

I'll so often look at something God's asked me to do and think that its gone wrong or doesn't look how I expected it to but actually, in the end, it plays out better than my original plan.

Stream of consciousness...

I wrote this at about midnight last night and just wrote, only going back to correct my horrific spelling oversights so if it doesn't track quite right then.. well. that'd be why

This evening I was sat with my roommate talking about confession and what a powerful method it is to release us from the fear and shame that sin holds on us.

But bow often do I confess my sin and seek forgiveness?

When I'm told to before I take Holy Communion?
When I know in my heart that I have wronged someone?
When I feel the weight of guilt of an action I know I shouldn't have committed?

How about those daily niggles?

Those bitchy, throw-away comments that sometimes slip out.
But they're ok because 'At least I'm being honest.' Right?
The criticism I justify because its 'constructive'.
The sarsacm I just can't seem to keep inside because, well I'm Brtiish.
I mean, so what if I  allow a look to linger just   a
                                                                                 little  
                                                                                            too                    long        ?
Or I hold onto a thought that I shouldn't nurture.

Before I know it I've categorized sin into 'Small' 'Medium' and 'Large' '
I dismiss confessing 'minor' sin because, well, its hardly worth mentioning.
But it is still sin and no matter how small, how trivial, how faint a blemish it might make to the eyes of those around me it is still a mark on something God desires to be perfect.
All sin is serious and yet I still put them in trays to be 'dealt with later'

Yet soon the box labeled 'Small' is actually quite large itself and I'm beginning to wish I had sought forgiveness sooner because at least then the burden would be lighter.
The guilt battles with the desire to be free and yet to be released means admitting my faults, my failures, my fickleness and putting up my hands to say,
'These are the things I've thought I've said I've done. I can't cover them on my own, please help!'

My common sense shouts loudly behind me: 'You're only human! Just hide the box and run!'
As if in support, the voice of the World reasons logically,
'Don't worry, no body knows. Just relax. This is who you are, it can't be changed'

Both sound loudly and with confidence but they soon grow worn out with all the effort of their show and as they tire I can't help but hear the comforting cheer of a voice that has been there along, speaking with a deep yet gentle authority,
'Do not be afraid, you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated'

I daily fail and yet not matter how seemingly insignificant and unnoticed those failures still matter and separate me from the one I love.
But this does not deter me because God's love is so much greater than my mistakes.
The battle still rages inside of me, saying that He is tired of my prayers for help, he is tired of my basic inability to go one day, hour, moment without slipping up and that actually, I've gone too far this time.

He demands perfection, and I am far from that, but we have His Son, interceding for us, covering our shame and giving us the confidence to kneel before Him in his Holiness and be accepted as His child.
'

Start Date + A visit from the tooth fairy

For the past 18 months or so I have had to contend with the dull ache of a wisdom tooth on a mission. The attention seeking molar would rear its pearly head for a period of about a week before quietening itself again for months at a time. It was during one of these silent periods that I last visited the dentist and for this reason he'd decided it wasn't ready to come out. 

Recently I moved away from my paternal abode and as if preparing for the performance of a lifetime, my wisdom tooth resumed its residual ache right on que.

In December finally I organised myself enough to fill out the approximately one million page long application for free dental care and in celebration I booked myself an appointment for my return home during the Christmas break. 

 The only problem with this was that my appointment was just a few days before Christmas and there was no way I was going to let my primadonna of a tooth upstage my enjoyment of festive food.

 

The evening prior to the dental appointment I was with friends at my brother's house and I told them of my tooth ache. Being the pillars of life-experience that they are they reassured me that it was unlikely that the dentist would just whip it out. More likely he would make me a second appointment for the surgery and thus not only enable me to gorge myself to my hearts delight but also give ample time for me to psyche myself out for the experience.

Knocking back a glass of mulled wine I thought this an excellent idea.

The next day saw Dorset play the ever faithful role of maintaining a status of Winter Wonderland, or rather 'Winter Walk-out-of-you-house-and fall-on-your-bum-der-land'.
The streets of the village were icy and treacherous to walk or drive on so many cars had been stranded as any slight slope had been transformed into an incline to reckoned with. Since returning home for the Christmas break, aside from visiting my brother the night before I had only ventured out once. Being house bound had also negated the need to coordinate outfits too studiously and since leaving only meant putting on more clothes I simply donned an extra hoodie, my signature pink coat and wellingtons before edging my way to the surgery.

 Once there it became clear that the NHS were clearly pumping their funds into heating the place and I'd underestimated quite how warm I would be. After removing my heavy-winter layers I realised I was wearing yet more pink and a dutch t-shirt with a cow on it. Looking very few of my 23 years I also remembered that my child-hood dentist had been replaced by a much younger model - and Model was the operative word.
Introducing himself with a name that instantly fell out of my head, he shook my hand and asked what language that was on my t-shirt.
'Dutch'
'Oh, right, what does it say?'

'Moo says the cow'

I watched as my age decreased yet more. 

Sitting back in the dentists chair he began numbering my teeth to the nurse who was diligently taking notes. The wisdom tooth itself had barely began to break through the gum line yet was causing pain because my mouth simply wasn't big enough to accommodate it.
Oh, and it was growing directing outwards into my cheek rather than down into my mouth.

Deciding to take an x-ray of my mouth to determine the actual position of the tooth and the scale of its root, the dentist clamped what seemed to be a black strip of plastic into my mouth. My jaw however seemed to want to underline its lack of capacity by demonstrating its incapability to hold this accessory.

However, after some gentle persuasion and an embarrassing amount of dribble on my part, the x-ray was taken, unveiling a perfect side-view of my front teeth. It seemed my usually gregarious tooth was suffering stage fright and noting that a second x-ray would likely prove equally unsuccessful it appeared my options were one-fold:
1. Just take the tooth out now. 
Eyes wide with something other than enthusiasm, I nearly voiced my shock that he even suggested this choice without someone there to hold my hand.
Instead I summoned all the cool nonchalance that I could and replied with a frighteningly sure nod. 

Next thing I know I'm having two injections in my mouth to numb the area and of its apparently small size the dentist managed to numb 79% of it. Looking up at a lucid-yellow poster of Spongebob Square Pants I couldn't settle on having my eyes open or closed and so lay there blinking like a startled deer.
After beginning with a combination of forceps the dentist soon requested the least reassuring of instruments.
Pliers. 
I tightened my grip on the chair as the dentist tugged at my tooth, wrenching it from its socket and dropping it into my mouth. Mopping the blood from my mouth and tears from my cheeks up I held out my exemption form and timidly asked if I could have my tooth.
Sealed in an over-sized zip-lock bag I held it like a validation certificate of my ordeal.
As if the swollen cheek and inability to form consonants wasn't going to be enough.

I only live a 5 minute walk from the surgery but the experience had sent my legs to jelly and being the pillar of stoicism that i am, called my Mum. The combination of facial numbness and cold had caused me to be unable to form words properly and after I'd dribbled down the phone to her she slipped her way up the road to meet and guide me home.

Judging by this story it might come as a shock to learn that I haven't always been such a stalwart. 

Hard to believe, I know but in my family I have in fact gained the unenviable nick-name of  'Cuckoo'. 

This term of endearment was won by repeatedly seeking out the affection of my parents while they were actually paying attention to another of my siblings and in effect 'pushing them out of the nest.' 

Much like the evolutionary arms race caused by actual brood parasites I would argue that this was character building for my kin and after 23 years I haven't quite lost my tendency to want to build their characters further. For days the story on my slightly lop-sided lips was a tale of bravery, pain and endurance. My overly dramatic tooth had given me a larger stage on which to perch. 

Needless to say my tooth was safely deposited under my pillow to await a subtlety recommended visit from the tooth fairy.

 

 

On Christmas Eve my jaw ache was finally wearing off and so was the novelty. Looking forward to being freed from the 4 hour round of pain killers and not willing to be defeated by the ice-rink of a pavement, I walked to the carol service and fell promptly on my bottom.