A piece of our work

Community work is so incredibly open-ended that I've felt very comfortable calling my time spent on crocheting and knitting for various projects "Work."  Like some qualitative jobs, I have to be content with never knowing how my "Work" is received, and whether or not it gains the desired affect.

Last Friday, Valentine's Day, I hit out early to randomly pepper our neighbourhood with pieces of my "Work" -- specifically small crocheted hearts with a tag saying, "you are loved" on each one.  In walking around later that day, and in the days since, I haven't seen a single one still out where I put them, which, I think, means we can safely assume that at least a few went to good homes.  But, really, I'll never know.

Still here, still scheming

In winter, a woman's thoughts turn to keeping warm and dreaming about the spring.  At least, mine do.  In my case, that means a mixture of making things (be it crocheted granny squares or fig and almond biscotti...), and trying to think how they might be used in a more public sense once we've all come out of our shells.

I've been inspired by three things lately, which have fed into my scheming.

The first is coming across the founder of the Craftivist Collective and taking a workshop with her to learn about more the craftivist idea (the melding of craft and activism) and to explore my own "footprint" as I dream about a more equal world (and my place in it).

The second was a Christmas gift from a friend -- the River Cottage Veg cookbook.  While you would often find me in the kitchen anyway, I go through long phases of cooking where I don't use recipes, and frankly, it makes the menu-planning process so much easier when you've got a book in front of you with convincing photos.  It's been a great resource for cooking for potlucks, cooking for when we have guests, cooking for others with new babies, etc.  It's inspired me/us to be even more excited about extending hospitality!

The third relates a little to the first: the aforementioned granny squares.  The truth is that I taught myself (thanks to the internet) last week how to crochet granny squares.  Ever since, I can't stop...Well, except yesterday when I didn't do any, but did manage to place an order for 2.2kg/nearly 5lbs worth of yarn.  This craftivism talk has gotten my mind thinking again to yarn bombing and thinking specifically of how to use yarn bombing to engage a little bit more in community, in addition to thinking about considering particular events to plan a yarn bombing around.  (I'm more than open to ideas and suggestions.)

Baby Investment.

Well, we've been on the MMN payroll for over a year now, and are just a few weeks short of a year on the ground in Hackney.  In typical bureaucratic fashion, that means we're starting (well, finishing, really) our annual reports, both reflecting back on 2013 and making (hopefully) reasonably-sized dreams for 2014.  Writing these is both easier and harder than what I imagined...But regardless, it helps to set the tone for a new year with a plan for a few new dreams.

Meanwhile, we remain very aware of our financial and prayer supporters back home...and not because they're peering over our shoulders, checking our receipts for how we're spending their generous donations. :)  Rather the opposite, really.

Many of you will know that this past Monday was Epiphany -- the day Christians celebrate the journey, visit, and gift of the three wise men to Jesus and his family.  Sunday evening, at our contemplative service at church, we took time to meditate on the extraordinary gifts the wise men brought, and the ordinary ways (the adult) Jesus gave to those around him.

A particular piece of the story of the wise men struck me.  One could surmise that this was a trip of a lifetime for the wise men.  There's no other mention of them in the New Testament, returning to meet the grown Jesus.  No, these men came when Jesus was very little, gave gifts of astounding financial worth, and then left for Joseph, Mary, and Jesus to get on with what they all needed to do.  The wise men invested in a baby.  (I'm guessing most financial advisers today would think this a preposterous idea.)

In a very similar way, we feel like there's a parallel here between Jesus' story and our own.  We have churches who have met us once, before we even left for England, and supported us willingly and generously.  People who barely know us invested in us and our work before we'd even proven we'd get a reasonable return.

Like Mary, we are humbled by that, and we treasure the gifts and prayers immensely.  And we hope we end up giving back even a smidgen of what we feel Jesus gave to the world when he was about our age, walking through the Middle East.

Thanks again for your support this last year!  We cannot say it enough.

Christmas in the Shire

And by the Shire, I do mean England...London to be precise.  Though, I can imagine some of Tolkien's hobbits would have loved the Christmas we've been whipping up in the kitchen these last days.

Justin, inspired by a need to feed the masses at a carol service, signed his name on the line for two dozen mince pies.  I did the shopping, made many helpful suggestions, and rolled up my sleeves to help on the assembly line...but Justin took charge of finding recipes, mixing the mince by hand, and then mixing the crust.  The proof of the pudding is in the pictures!

 

The pies turned out splendidly, though dwarfed the other mince pies they found themselves next to...We blame it on our North American dietary habits...Justin also mixed up some brown sugar brandy butter, after hearing one of our favourite cooking show hosts (Mary Berry) rave about her love of brandy butter.  Nice combo, but you'll start to see a pattern with Brits and their brandy...

 Today, in preparation for tomorrow's Christmas dinner with friends, we were assigned two more dishes that we were completely unfamiliar with:  bread sauce and brandy sauce.  The jury is still out, but we're hoping that what we've made is what is expected to be brought... :)

Bread sauce on the left; Brandy sauce on the right

Justin getting back into green coffee bean roasting!

 Merry Christmas to all!

Highlights

Highlight from last night's Youth and Mentor night with people from church -- watching A Christmas Story (for my 100th time) with a group who had never watched it.  Even with a bit of a delay getting the film started, and slightly choppy internet stream, I was so pleased with the consistent peals of laughter throughout Ralphie's story.  As we say in our neck of the woods, "A good time was had by all."



A few other highlights from the last month or so...

Justin and I went north to Windermere in the Lake District for a conference on the United Reformed Church (for whom we work.)  We tacked on a few extra days to see the sights and do a bit of hiking in the "mountains."  It was beautiful.

Shortly thereafter, Justin turned 30.  This ended up entailing such risky behaviours as trying the old Menthos-in-Coke trick, which Justin got whole-heartedly into...as evidenced by the drill being out to make holes in the Menthos for stringing together...Use your imagination for the rest.  (Or look on YouTube for videos of how it turns out.)

Life then morphed into a whirlwind with a lovely visit from my parents.  Our time ranged from taste-testing several scones to practising our audio-tour techniques in places like Westminster Abbey, Windsor Castle, and Bath.

As these things go, all good things must come to an end.  We're getting back into the swing of work, but present now in this unique season of Advent.  It is strange how our connection to the season is a bit stunted this year, even with working for a religious institution that champions Advent.  Perhaps it is the different location, away from normal traditions with family, and choosing not to "invest" in Christmas-y decor since we're only here for two Christmases.  There will be no lemon tree with a string of lights and a couple ornaments in our room, no long hours at the bakery, rolling out thousands of Christmas tree-shaped sugar cookies, no sledding down the hill in the field behind the house.  There will be mince pies and mulled wine, attempting to stay up for the midnight Christmas Eve service, and enjoying the company of fine friends on Christmas Day.  I've gotten to share one of my traditions -- watching A Christmas Story -- and will surely share more in the coming days.  When good things come to an end, other good things can get started.

Show me what you've got, Christmas 2013.

When the Hope of Spring Comes Early

The last few days, Justin and I went to a "Welcome to the URC" course up north in Windermere, which is in the Lake District in Cumbria.  We spent time with others new to the denomination (the United Reformed Church), and learned all about its history, theology, and structure.

In one of the final worship times we had as a group, we were invited to each choose a postcard from a random selection spread on the floor in front of us.  I picked up one that had a charcoal drawing by Roy Wright called "You Can Never Hold Back Spring IV."  We were given time to reflect on the postcards, listening for how God was speaking to us through the images.

You Can Never Hold Back Spring IV

If you click on the image so it enlarges, you see that the gnarled, old tree is starting to show signs that it is ready to burst into the first blooms of Spring.

The tree has obviously been pruned a few times, but more likely from needing to take off snapped branches, and less for looks.  Twisted branches and random bulges give the tree character, and you inherently know that this tree will last a few more years, even if storms pass through.

It came to mind that though this image represents a season that we have yet to start planning for (since we're just now stepping into Winter), it does says something about the season of Advent that we're about to enter into.  We might often ascribe spring-like feelings to the longing for Easter, but this year, and at this time, the longing is for something new to blossom.  We long in Advent for the long-expected hope that we will be silenced in the arrival of a child whose character will be spoken of for many seasons in the future.  That is what this image says to me, though we are in the dark days of the Northern Hemisphere's winter, growing shorter and darker, both in a physical sense and in what can feel like a spiritual sense.  The world is messy, with twisted branches and random bulges, but is the birth of hope just around the corner?

I also post Justin's choice below, and though I won't speak much to what Justin reflected on, there is also a note of hopeful anticipation in a bird's first flight...Leaping off into a new experience, getting ready to see things from a different perspective.

First Flight by Nicolette Savage

What's in a name?

There's a lot in a person's name.  Some time ago, I skimmed through a book that dealt with the phenomenon of how our names often end up reflecting our personality, interests, or perhaps even outlook on life.  Perhaps some might think this has more to do with thinking along the lines of astrology and our 'signs'...But, I do think our names are deeply meaningful to our conscious and subconscious.  We are known to the world initially through our names.  Usually, before you know much about a person, you do know their name (or what they prefer to be called.)

As a person whose name is occasionally shortened, I've noticed that I react (inwardly, usually) when I'm called Val versus Valerie.  While my siblings occasionally call me Val, I have never introduced myself as Val, partly because I don't think I've ever identified with those three letters as my name...as "who I am."  I don't notice it with my siblings (perhaps because of a deep level of trust and long history that they Know Me), but I am often surprised when people, meeting me for the first time, refer to me as Val (even if I introduce myself as Valerie.)  I know that many times, it is because they may know someone else who shortens their name to Val, but I find that to be an unfair assumption.

On the surface, I realise this seems like a trivial topic.  But our names are these public things that we carry around with us wherever we go, and, as far as I know, everyone has names and so the conversation affects all of us!

I'm also aware that how we pronounce names is just as imperative as how many letters of a name we say. From the rarer names to the everyday names, there are so many different pronunciations, and yet to assume one way or another until you get it from the source, is again, unfair.  And should I mention spelling?  As much as "Val" gets my goat, so does "Valarie."  Gross.  That is not me.  (Though I'm sure it fits someone else very nicely.)

The moral of this mini-sermon:  It says a lot about how well you know someone when you address them with their preferred name, and pronounced correctly.  It says that you have let them define for you who they are or who they want to be, rather than needing your projection of them to define them. :)

Regardless of who we are, and what others call us, I am reminded of God's promise to the Israelites in Isaiah 49, "...look, I've written your names on the palms of my hands..."  We are known by God.  That is something to treasure.