For Possum

Well, I have finally got around to updating my blog from the last 6 or so months... if anyone is still interested! You might want to go right down to "It's Over" and read from there. Don't be fooled by the dates, as they refer to the day I made the post, not the day I wrote the blog.

This is all for Paula, who continually pesters me to update and without whom I probably would have not bothered at all. I am blessed that she is so much a greater part of my life than my blog.

Enjoy!

Moving On

So its here… time to move on again. I’m feeling a bit mixed. Not quite sure which way it’s going – should be more excited about getting back to Harlesden because it’s always been all about moving there. Should feel better about leaving Pompey behind because there’s never been anything worth staying around for here.

I’ve always prided myself on my honesty – being who I am and everyone knowing that. No masks on this girl!! Sure, it can take me a while to let people in but I’ve never tried to be something I’m not. But then again, I’m realising that who I am is not that straight forward. And as I move from one experience to another, who I am is developing and growing and getting more complicated!! I have had so many different roles in different contexts with different people over the past few years that it’s not really that crazy that I should have a couple different versions of myself. In fact, people have commented on my ability to fit in with all kinds of people, and just a brief poll of my friends shows a considerable variety. I love that!! And am so thankful for it, because each and every one of them adds another amazing dimension to my life.

But I’ve never before felt like I’m living two different lives. I’ve never felt split in this way before… not quite sure if my old friends will get the person I’ve become, or my new friends really understand the full extent of who I am at the core. I like the new confidence I’ve found, the friends I’ve made, the way I’ve lived my life while I’ve been at home… but I’m unsure about how it’s all going to fit when I move back to Harlesden. Because will those people be expecting the Susie from a year ago? How will they deal with the girl she is now? The differences are probably subtle but they are there, even if no one knows exactly what they are. Is there space for them without judgement? How are these friendships going to feel now? How much can I share?

You know sometimes and you just want to curl up in a hole and sleep until the sun comes out again, and things seem a bit easier? Yep, that’s right where I’m at. But I shouldn’t have anything to be worried about… should I?

Broken

I am a woman. And there is a part of me that’s broken.

It’s a really small part. So small that I can hide it away in the deepest place within me. So small that I can forget that it’s there, and that it’s still broken.

But it’s the smallest things that bear the most potent poison… manifest in a single question, the brokenness resonates upwards through the many layers of complexity that comprise my womanhood to subtly taint every aspect of my being. The question is simply this… am I enough?

The core of my very existence is crippled by this one doubt… As it permeates my life, it fractures into an array of variants. Am I enough to be useful – am I needed? Am I enough to be valuable – am I wanted? Am I enough to be enjoyed – am I desired?

I hate neediness – often to the point of contempt when I observe it in others. It makes me feel so uncomfortable. I have been told that the things that frustrate or annoy you in others usually cause that reaction because they are actually a problem within yourself. And if there is one thing I seek, it is to be useful, to be needed. If I am needed there is less chance of me being rejected. In order to understand my role or purpose, I have to validate my presence within any kind of circle by being a useful, contributing member. While on the surface this is a constructive aim to have, the motivation of avoiding rejection leads me to cultivate independence. It is important for others to need me, but for me to need others (particularly if they DON’T need me as much) is a sign of weakness. There’s too much hurt to risk in not being needed.

In striving to be needed all the time, I have struggled with the concept of being wanted. By that I mean wanted for who I am not what I do… To just be, in a friendship. Not to function in any other way but to be me. To be loved. My God of grace has much patience with me, and has been turning my heart round to the idea that just maybe I am enough to be valued, worthy of His love and interest. I haven’t the faintest idea why that may be, except for an inkling that it’s the great mystery of Love. Allowing this Love into my life has begun to seal up some of the fractures caused by this question. I have begun to heal, to be restored. I can now accept love where I don’t understand it.

Of course, to love is to risk rejection, and often to suffer it. So I can only love to the degree I have allowed this Love to re-build the broken parts within me, to strengthen me against the fear of it all coming crashing down, of rejection – the ultimate answer NO to my question.

Still causing me trouble is the last one – am I enough to be desired? Am I beautiful, am I lovable, am I enough to stir a passion? Some say the time has not come yet… you will not get your answer until it does. Yet I still seek it! Waiting for a husband is not the solution, as my hidden brokenness is crying out with a fervour that demands to sated… ignoring it does no good. There have been those that seem to offer an answer, but so far not one with enough integrity that I can lean into and be supported in the full knowledge of acceptance. Yet still I seek it, at times with almost a single-mindedness.

I know where I should get my answer

“The King is enthralled by your beauty…” Psalm 45 v 11

Now the question is…
Do I believe it?

Cards

A major part of my job has just become selling credit cards. I know... I'm supposed to be working in a ladies clothing dept. Go figure. I was supposed to be a Christmas temp, just tidying up clothes and watching the fitting room BUT all has now changed.


Firstly they have realised how awesomely amazing I am. To be fair to them, it didn't take long. So they have decided to put my awesome amazingness to good use, and train me up for the tills and the account card. I was quite keen for this, because let's face it, even 4 hours a day tidying clothes gets a bit much. On Mega days I did get to hand out leaflets, but that also is annoying after about 5 seconds.


However, part of me is wondering what I have let myself in for. I now have targets. TARGETS! To open one card per day I work. I don't think we have enough customers for us all to reach that target. More like one a week... In an effort to mobilise the workforce into reaching these lofty aspirations, we are now expected to spend at least half an hour every day "clipping", which basically means we have to walk around the shop with a wadge of application forms on a clipboard and pounce upon our blissfully unaware customers, who happen to be perusing the exciting range of ladieswear we have on offer, and try and convince them that their life will end if they don't open a store card with us.

"Hello madam, how are you this fine day? I was hoping to extol the virtues of our wonderful new reward scheme with you... all you have to do is hand over some very personal information so the bank can run a detailed credit check against you, and soon you could be earning not only more credit-induced debt but also great value reward points that are only valid in our store. And once in a while we will hold an exclusive 20% off day, so you are encouraged to buy loads more things than you really want or need purely because you get a discount on that day. Would one be interested in such an arrangement? Yes? Wonderful, sign your life away here please..."

Ok, so my main problem is that I am morally opposed to pressuring old dears into opening new credit cards during one of the worst economic crisies in history. Sorry, I just think that's wrong. But my managers think that it's because I don't like approaching people on the shop floor. Clearly I don't have an issue with that! So I am having to bite the bullet, put on my fakest smile and chat my way through the LONGEST half hour in the world every day. I have developed a couple of avoidence strategies... being 5/10 minutes late to take on the clipboard is sometimes workable, especially if you are in the middle of a big job and loose track of time; jumping on the till during busy periods is the lesser of 2 evils; helping a customer on a non-account card related issue can kill a lot of time, especially if you have to go down and check for size options in the store; sometimes you are lucky and land one of the sweet old things that wants to talk the hind leg off your donkey - of course you don't want to be rude, do you?!

At the end of the day, I don't need to agree with everything in order to do the job. Especially when I'm just after some short term cash, not looking to build a managerial career. But it makes me wonder where you draw the line on such a question...

Pompey Life

Whenever I meet a new peson and I'm introducing myself, I always answer the question "Where are you from" with some reference to Portsmouth. I grew up here. I was born in St Mary's hospital, have lived here all my life (except for the couple years in Brunei, right up until uni) and I still refer to it as home, even if that is out of habit more than anything!!

When I was a teenager, I developed a disdain for Portsmouth that grew to the point that I couldn't wait to leave. I seriously could not think of anything worse than becoming trapped into a life centred around this city, which I saw as one of the most depressing places in the world (clearly I had not yet been to Dungeness...). I'll admit there was probably a good portion of teenage melodrama shaping that particular worldview, but nonetheless, I was looking for my first ticket out of here...

Thankfully that really wasn't too much of a problem, as my priviledge and wonderful parents practically entitled me to go to university. And my academic success meant I could go pretty much anywhere. Naturally I didn't even consider Portsmouth Uni, and ended up in Egham, of all places, at Royal Holloway. But that's another story (or maybe even an epic serialisation...?). As I grew older and had more opportunity to travel and visit, even to live, in other places around the world I found my distaste for "home" melting and gradually being replaced with, dare I say it, a fondness?!! Maturity has brought with it an understanding of the value of where you came from in shaping where you are going next.

Imagine my surprisethen, when I realise that after 25 years of believing that I came from Portsmouth, and even more than that, understanding what it means to come from Portsmouth, I actually have had very little to do with the city. I lived over the hill in Waterlooville or Cowplain, as did most of my friends... I went to school in Havant and then Chichester, and I always seemed to work nearer Southampton. In reality, the only time I went down into the city while I was growing up was to go shopping or to the cinema, or going to church with my parents in the dockyard. On such occasions, we would be in and out as quickly as possible!!

The past few months have been somewhat of an education in "Portsmouth". Working in a retail environment in the heart of the city, travelling in and out every day on the bus... it has opened my eyes to what Portsmouth is really like. I have made friends, people that I care about, that have lived less than half an hour away from me my whole life but have this completely different experience. And I am now convinced that the best way to get to know the character of the area you live in is to work on a shop floor!!

The funny thing is, to be brutally honest I haven't been that surprised at what I have seen... it's just the first time I have actually experienced it myself, rather than assuming. BUT what has knocked me for six is the way I feel about it. From hating to indifference to a degree of fondness, my journey is now moving on to a level of compassion and love that I would NEVER have expected. The way I see my city has changed, and the people who live there have become part of my life. For the first time I have become involved, and I care about it in a way that moves me. So now leaving will be that bit harder...

Friendships... Are Better Than Normal Ships.

Today I got a text right out of the blue from my friend Chelsea. It was more a surprise than your average random "Hey we should meet up!" because Chels is American and had significant problems with her visa last time she came to the UK (stupid immigration people) and I didn't even think she could come back here. Yet here she was... in Southampton of all places and free for a coffee! How incredible...

Seeing her again after over a year got me thinking about friendship. I realised I have quite a high expectation of friendship... sometimes it's quite unrealistic! As I move through life and bat from one place to another, I have collected a variety of friends from different circles. It always seems to be time to leave some behind, or time to get to know someone new. Both of these are incredibly daunting tasks, involving no small amout of risk and vulnerability. Yet I know how essential these relationships are to me while I try to cope with life...

I am a people person. I love to be involved with people, to get to know them, to share with them. And one of my love languages is quality time - so I tend to feel closest to the people I spent the most time with. It's maybe a bit ironic (or unfortunate? or interesting?) then, that my life tends to lead me back and forth between different groups of friends every few months. How do I view the friendships that I don't get to invest time in?

There are obviously those that are a fundamental part of my life - I can't imagine ever not being friends with some people and don't really consider that we would ever loose touch. However, there are many more I would love to spend more time with or keep more up to date with... but life just doesn't stretch that far!! It's these friendships that continually amaze me. Some you think are pretty solid but eventually end up just drifting away into nothing, until you become as good as strangers and there's little hope of reconnecting - those make me sad in a way I don't feel sad about anything else. But it's part of life I guess, everything has it's season. Learning to let go is as important as learning to hold on.

But for every friendship you have to let go... there's one that endures in the face of whatever seperation life's lottery calls in, and continues to bless and enrich your life despite distance or circumstance. These are the ones that yield untold joy in my heart, at the most unexpected times. I can never tell which friendships will stand the test of time in this way, and I think that part of the joy is that surprise when you discover another one :)

Falling Falling

A few months back I was looking at this website with my friend Tessa. It’s called ASBO Jesus and has loads of cartoons on it, mostly trying to make some amusing but deeply satirical point about how the church relates today. There was one that I initially reacted against, it was entitled “Stepping Out In Faith” or something like that and was a little cartoon stick man falling off the edge of a cliff. That’s not cool, I thought… having faith in God doesn’t mean you fall off a cliff. When you step out in faith He’s always there to catch you. I pointed this out to Tessa, and she suggested that falling off a cliff is exactly what it feels like sometimes. In hindsight, of course we can see how God works out situations in our life but the reality we deal with “in the moment” is not always what we can tangibly attribute to our perception of safety and security.

So now, about 9 months later, I’m sat here thinking about my life and what I want it to mean, and I remember this cartoon. And I understand it. Over the past few years I’ve had some pretty out of control experiences… some up, others down, some were by my design, others not exactly my first choice of valley to walk through. For a while it felt pretty non-stop, like I never really had time to come up for air. All the way through I’ve been learning about trusting in God… what that means in many different ways. Taking risks, in faith, has been a big thing that I’ve seen, faced and grown through. I even preached about it once!! Yet in this moment I sit and feel the most like I’m stepping out over the edge of a cliff. Because I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen…

Spleepy

So I’m back in England… wow it’s cold!! Thought we were still in summer here people? August? A bit of sunshine too much to ask??

Oh well, the glories of the motherland…

So I’m staying with my parents for the foreseeable future. Bear in mind that my future is only really foreseeable about 2 weeks ahead at a stretch currently. More like 2 days, 2 hours most of the time. I probably could/should make some plans, but that would involve a degree of alertness and the motivation to get off my bum and be a little pro-active. What with still being well and truly in the clutches of jetlag, I don’t think that’s an option yet.

I learned something about myself while I was away (phew – not a waste of time then ;)) and that is that my coping mechanism for stress is sleep. Whenever there is something that’s too complex to handle, I fall into this state of lethargy and physical exhaustion which results in me moping the days away in-between naps and long periods of doing nothing.

Some days I have made it through til bedtime without falling asleep, but on others I manage to sleep for 5 hours during the afternoon. It doesn’t seem to matter how well I sleep, or what time of the day/night it is, I never wake up feeling refreshed and my energy levels expire at the mere thought of doing something productive. I’m too exhausted to make any decisions or sort my life out, which has been put on hold in the most abrupt manner by my return home to a very-much-still-in the-process of being redecorated room, lacking not only curtains and a carpet but also a proper bed.

There are many people I should be catching up with… loads of really valuable and dearly loved friends who are (apparently) dying to see me and hear ALL about my trip. Which is awesome. Except for the completely overwhelming fact that I don’t know what to say. Where do you start explaining what you’ve been through, how do you even begin to communicate what you’ve seen and who you’ve met and how that’s changed you? I don’t know if I can… I don’t know if I even know that yet…

How can I describe the friendships I have left behind, the memories I have made with people I might never see again? The places I have loved and hated, the struggles and the joys that God has pounded my heart with…?

I’m feeling tired. I think I’m going to have a nap…

Home Sweet Home

Spent about 10 days of 2008 in UK so far… and nearer 4 months in Indonesia!! That’s 1/3 of my year… God certainly has written that country on my heart during this time away, although not sure what that exactly means!!

In this time I have mostly been...

• reading Irresistible Revolution (should be canonised) and Isaiah – there’s some amazing stuff in that book!;
  
• eating rice and tuna, and Cha Chas (fake peanut M&Ms – they saved my life out there!);
  
• listening to Robbie Seay Band, Newton Faulks and Shane&Shane (Give thanks to the Lord for He is good…);
  
• watching Greys Anatomy (yup that rights Bodes, right there with ya girrrrl!) and Lost Season 3;
  
• travelling in boats – speed boats, slow boats, fast (6hr boats) and overnight boats. If you ever need any advice about going on a boat journey in Indonesia, I’m your girl (but do yourself a favour and just don’t!!);
  
• living life without email and texting – surprisingly refreshing;
  
• learning to speak Indonesian, still a loooooooong way to go!!
  
• visiting the doctor – ear aches, infected knee, gastritis and stomach cramping – I was there a lot!
  
• realising my actual rubbishness in the face of the awesomeness of God, and how amazing it is that I can know Him despite that, how intensely He loves me still and desires to use me maybe even because of my weakness.
  
• having my heart break over friends that don’t know this and desperately need to!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh that’s pain, right there!!
  
  And now I’m back. England, are you ready??!

Reflections on an Island Paradise

I managed to get through 8 weeks on Hoga without writing one blog, so here is a little summary of my time J

Daily schedule would involve 2 or possibly 3 dives… I was normally on science dives, which basically meant supervising the students underwater, making sure everyone who was meant to be on the boat got on, and the same number of people got out of the water that went in… ensuring the boat left on time (easier said than done with certain science staff!), filling out all the paperwork and seeing that everyone followed OpWall rules. So Susie the Divemaster had to get a bit no nonsense!! Another fun part of the job… radio duty! Not every day but on a rota, we would have to sit by the radio in case of an emergency. Always a lot more fun when Ali came and played guitar…

I lived in the same little pink hut that I shared with Chrissie 3 years ago! Except I had it to myself this time – which was BLISS after sharing with 5 of us on Nias (sorry girls, I love you but… personal space!). And my own hammock J and my own bathroom!!! Overlooking the boat bay, and caught some gorgeous sunsets.

The welcome I received from my Indonesian friends was amazing. So humbling… I was hoping they would remember me but didn’t expect such excitement! I have had wonderful opportunities to deepen existing friendships and start new ones… spending time with the kitchen ladies especially, as previously most of my friends were guys. The generosity of the Indonesians is incredible… both in the way I never needed for anything, however small, and the way they opened up their hearts and lives to me. I felt so much more comfortable hanging out with the local staff than I ever did with the westerners…

Anna B was a saving grace… as was Bridget! I miss those girls!! It was interesting to observe the interaction between the Westerners and the Indonesians. It had clearly changed since the last time I was on Hoga. 3 years ago there were a couple of western staff who made an effort with the locals but generally the two groups were quite segregated. This year it was almost a popularity contest with some people… who is the most “in” with the local staff?!! I didn’t really like that attitude, it felt really fake and it frustrated me. However, I feel that my friendship was considered genuine. I spent a lot of time with Anna, which was very cool and I feel I have found a little sister there – someone who maintained my sanity on numerous occasions!

Right in the middle I had a period out of the water – very frustrating when you are living on an island totally focused on diving!! I came off a motorbike with a friend on our way to a BBQ on our day off – got a friction burn across my whole knee. Stubbornly continued to dive on it, and it got infected – gross!! Took a while to heal up – about 10 days, which is a long, long time on Hoga. While that was going on I also suffered from another bout of gastritis, which meant I was up for about 3 nights with stomach cramps, puking up bile. Wonderful fun. Thankfully there was a clinic and doctors on site… I had the joys of 2 injections in the bum which left me with a lovely bruise. The funniest thing was the contrast in western and Indonesian treatments. I will never forget Dr Tri’s insistence on my prescribed diet… “Rice, Susie! Have you eaten rice? Why not eating rice Susie?!” Didn’t you know – rice is the answer to all medical ills!!

Leaving Hoga was the most traumatic experience. Mostly because OpWall offered to extend my contract a further 2 weeks til the end of the season. I really didn’t feel ready to leave and so jumped at the chance… in the end though, I couldn’t change my flights because it was such short notice. I left the island planning to do the first leg of the journey in order to buy extra time for the change to be made but it didn’t happen. Excruciating, because I hadn’t said goodbye properly in my heart, and so I felt I had been wrenched out from the situation with no closure. Hard, hard, hard.

Annoyingly I lost my camera on the last day... so I have no pictures for you!!

Hoga's Calling

I'm nervous... but in that really excited way!

Back in Bali, about to start the loooong journey back to Hoga. Don't get me started on the amount of boats and planes I will see in the next 48 hours... but it'll be worth it. I've waited 3 years to be back here!!

It's just dawning on me that I'm actually going to see these guys again... Arif, Ade, Azrul - and his baby girl!! Not to mention Pips and John... Last time I left I didn't even know if I would get the chance to come back, so this is really special. The edge of panic creeps in... what if they don't care that I'm back? Oh, don't be so silly. Go to bed, you've got a long day tomorrow.

It's over...

Wow – it’s time. DTS is over (what?!) and my plane leaves tonight. How do you say goodbye like this? I’m at the end of myself. I don’t want to leave these people, I feel like I’m just getting to know some of them… guys the last few moths have been AMAZING. Thanks for everything you have put into them, because you have all touched my life. This time will not only impact the rest of our lives, but will reach out into eternity, and I am deeply grateful for each and everyone of you. I LOVE YOU!!!