They say pride comes before a fall, well I’m expecting a fall

I know pride isn’t generally a good thing but the thing is I am so very proud of my husband and the vocation he has pursued. It has been a long road to Joel being ordained – two degrees, years of waiting, interviews, moving house, our family growing and we have so many more adventures to come. 

Everyday Joel faces different challenges. Even the plan he starts the day with is generally not the same plan by lunch time. This week will be particularly challenging as he is conducting two funerals. The emotion, sensitivity and the self control required to honor the family and their loved one is intense.

I mean he has to manage people’s expectations especially during members meetings. I think everyone can agree that managing people in general can be a nightmare but when those 40 people employ you, it changes the dynamic again. His professionalism amazes me (especially as I know how unprofessional he can be).

I guess what I’m getting round to saying is Joel I love you and I’m proud of you. Keep working, supporting those who need it and I’ll be there for you….. Now I have to ask, please will someone catch me when I fall?

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*Parp*…Sorry, that was me…

My brain farts* seem to be a regular occurrence at the moment.  I don’t know whether it’s the situations I’m in, like church where 40-50 people immediately identify who I am because of Joel or the amount I need to remember is increasing but I’m definitely trumping all over the place.  Today, I rang up the carpet fitters to arrange a time for them to finish laying some vinyl in our bathroom. They answered the phone and I instantly forgot why I was calling! But of course, they had answered and I couldn’t just hang up as the words “Hello” had already escaped. So I started jabbering away in an attempt to buy my brain some time. They must have thought I was a right loon!

Well, it’s not the first time peoplehttp://www.beingfibromom.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/1ef04c749f635bf18521d26b7649234c.jpg have thought I was a loon and it won’t be the last. I think I’ve lost count of the number of people who say “Hello, Vicki” and my brain
responds with “Oh, crap. I don’t know! I just don’t know who that is!” I then find myself having this completely weird conversation trying to construct general questions to gleam information about said person, while my brain frantically tries to work out who they are.

Some days I win, some days I don’t.

Ah but do you know what even worse! Top-trumps moments! When my brain won’t kick in to gear at all. Let’s set the scene. Your at a playgroup (or in any group) and want to chat to people but your feeling a bit nervous and self conscience. You wade in, and to start your having a lush conversation. You continue but then start to run out of things to say until you can’t think of anything to say….panic sets in…Now at this point, my brain shuts down comprehensible thought and I turn into a “Top Trumps” player. You know the type of conversation I mean? Where for some reason you always have it better or worse than the other person. At this point, I’m usually wishing that I could scream at myself “Shut up, just shut up!” but of course I can’t.

So I guess now is a good time to say, if  I have ever turned top-trumps-esk on you, I am truly, from the bottom of my heart sorry. Like I said, some days I win, some days I don’t.
*By the way, a brain fart is a temporary mental lapse or failure to reason correctly e.g. I’m having a brain fart and can’t spell his name correctly. 

 

Er, Awkward….

I enjoy meeting up with my friends for a natter and to meet up with out the kids around means we are usually enjoying a drink (or two). Usually, we are amazed that we get to finish our sentences without being interrupted by someone crying or screaming (sorry about that girls, sometimes I just can’t stop myself). Our conversations flow nicely and rapidly interlinking and ranging from hobbies, to complaining about the kids or our husbands/partners or even sex. I love these conversations rambling and varying conversations because

a) you never know what your going to end you talking about;
b) you can vent (“sometimes they are up here but now they are down there”); and,
c) some people can find it unnerving to talk to me about (what I call) awkward topics such as sex, because of Joel’s job.

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Queen of awkward moments the awesome Zooey Deschanel

Talking about topics such as sex with my friends can be hilarious and provides an opportunity for great banter. Some of my friends are not bothered by my label (Minister’s wife) so will share freely and accept my contributions to blue conversations without batting an eyelid. However, others do feel uneasy and I hear comments like “Should we be discussing this with you?” or if I share a story it is met with stunned faces followed by “You can’t say that!”I guess this makes me feel singled out, not majorly, but enough to feel I have to justify myself. So, it’s at this point I like to point out that I have two children, and I didn’t find them in a cabbage patch……..

Oh! me lads, ye shud a’ seen w’us gannin,

Bear with me on this one I’m missing the North East (probably with rose tinned glasses on)!

I recently watched Further Tales of Northumberland from Robson Green. It wasn’t the most amazing piece of film making but for me it was full of nostalgia and passion. Being from the North East, I spent many weekends with my family exploring Northumberland, , which is a truly beautiful part of the country.  (Although to be honest, as a teenager, I probably spent most of the time complain that I wasn’t allowed to go shopping with my mates, rather than appreciating the time with my family).

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Watching the North East on telly makes me jealous that i’m not there, it takes me back to my childhood, and helps me feel connected to my roots. I must admit, this is me clutching at straws to call myself a Geordie, having
not lived there for 10 years or so and ashamedly lost my accent (Well, except when I’m angry according to my husband). You can take the Geordie out of the North East but you
can’t take the North East out of the Geordie. I havebrick (2) such a strong understanding of what it is to be a Geordie it’s like part of my identity. And to put it bluntly moving down south was a culture shock.

Now here is my concern, being called to ministerial life means our family will move around. How will my children be proud of where they come from when that changes every 7-10 years (for example)? Will they suffer as a result of slotting into different cultures and adapting this part of their identity we move around? After all we choose this vocation, my kids did not.

Part of me is saying they will know who they are through the love you show them and should they choose to follow Jesus they will have a strong foundation to build their identity on, no matter where you live.

In the end what these ramblings come down to is that I want my kids to be confident in who they are and above all else, happy.