On the Holy Spirit - Luke 2: 26-32

Luke 2: 26-35
²⁵ Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. ²⁶ It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. ²⁷ Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, ²⁸ Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

²⁹ “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss^[d] your servant in peace.
³⁰ For my eyes have seen your salvation,
³¹     which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
³² a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel.”

I'm grateful to Pastor Bentley pointing out that this passages teaches us some of the characteristics of the Holy Spirit a couple of Sundays ago in the sermon (available to listen to in a couple of weeks: http://www.fbc.org.ky/category/sermons/). It really struck me afresh how powerfully He works.

1) The Holy Spirit was on him - He dwells specifically with people, not just generally omnipresent, but resides in the presence of a person, with them, on them. How wonderful to know that one of the trinity of God resides with the people of God who are righteous and devout.
(John 14: 16-17)

2) It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit - He reveals knowledge to the people of God, He gives us insight into the workings of God, He gives us understanding of God's word, and when we speak God's word to ourselves and others it is a working of the Holy spirit upon us.
(1 Corinthians 14:1, John 14:26)

3) Moved by the spirit - He causes us to act to fulfill the will of God, yeah that's right, the Holy Spirit can and does move us to act. Some might throw up hands and say what about my free will? Well I say to such independents - why would even want to act differently to how God wants you to act anyway? God is good, you want to put yourself on the opposite of that? Can't anyone claim they were moved by the spirit to justify their actions. They can, but knowledgeable Christians will always compare their claims to the truth of God's word and lovingly hold them to account if they try to add to change the Holy word of God. The Spirit moves us to act for the holy, righteous, will of God!
(1 Corinthians 14: 36-38)

The Holy Spirit is with us, He reveals truth to us and He moves us to act for the will of God to be fulfilled! Amazing!

On Pain (the physical mild to medium non permanent sort)

Sat in the A&E chair next to the A&E bed I was reading a book and reflecting on what I had been through. I was a cubicle but apparently I was not injured enough to be told to lie down in the bed - I had to sit in the chair, as if to say, come on Ronnie, wimp girl, suck it up. Having gone in with a sore thumb (yeah I know but it really smarted), I was told I had something which I informed the Doctor was Latin for Dodgy Swollen Thumb. He didn't laugh probably like you aren't laughing now, but I think it is at least smilable. [Keep 'em smiling I say then they are more likely to think you can handle any truth and tell it to you quicker.]
Incredible as it seemed to me, Dodgy Swollen Thumb Condition (DSTC) actually required a course of IV antibiotics, of which I was receiving the last dose.
I've experienced some physical pain in my life: Getting kicked by thoroughbred horse as he galloped off was pretty painful, stubbing my foot so hard I broke a toe was pretty rough, six weeks off work with a buldging disk and we're getting higher on my pain scale, giving birth to my son (he was the second one, six hours, not too bad really), giving birth to my daughter as she protected her beautiful face with one hand on it (I can't even think about it without shedding a little pain memory tear).
So I didn't think when I discovered from the Doctor that I had DSTC that it would be too much trouble. By my third day, waiting for the third IV dose, I had come to realize that in Ronnie's world of pain tolerance DSTC is higher up the scale than first imagined.

DSTC Schedule of Pain

Day 1
Doctor prodding of swollen infected thumb - Ouch factor 3
Nurse putting in IV in my hand (five days later still bruised) - Ouch factor 7
Day 2
Nurse putting IV in arm this time, much better - Ouch factor 4
Day 3
Third IV in the arm again, for reason this hurt more, is the other arm more sensitive - Ouch factor 5
Told by self proclaimed Dr No Pain that thumb needs to be cut, looked aghast and asked if a coward, replied yes doctor and referred him to nurses notes from aforementioned child births - Admition factor 10
Ten needles in the thumb to create ring block - Ouch factor 3-7
Cutting of thumb - Ouch factor 0, Mental freak out when I looked factor 7
Wearing off of anesthetic (should have taken pain meds sooner) - Ouch factor 10
Day 4
Last IV needle, I'm old hat with this one now - Ouch factor 3
Taking off of post-op dressing, Dr No Pain tells me to take the last bit off myself, presumably to keep his reputation in tact, feel like skin being ripped off - Ouch factor 8
Examination of cut (read needless prodding of exposed flesh) - Ouch factor 15
Dr No Pain asks "Oh is it hurting?", smile and nod - Self control factor 100
Days 1-4
Removal of IV tape from arm, horrible every time, like slow waxing - Ouch factor 7

Throughout this process I've described to exactly two doctors and five nurses, exactly what kind of wimp I am, when it comes to physical pain. I felt it necessary so they didn't believe themselves to have accidently done something wrong. However, I have been informed seven times that actually this is not so and what I've experienced is actually quite painful. Is this true or a white lie? All I know is that it hurt me, a lot. There is no denying it, no Feng shuing it away by clearing out my pain corner, no meditating it into submission.

You see pain really hurts! You can't imagine it away, sometimes you can muddy it's waters with helpful medication, but eventually it wears off. So here are my tips for surviving pain - the physical mild to medium non permanent sort
1) Don't look, no really don't look, pain plus mental freak out, no good
2) Ask what is going to happen beforehand (the first time the IV went in I cried because of the thought that I would have a needle in my arm and what would happen if I moved and tore my vein - I wish I had just asked, like I did two days later, then I would have realized it is just a piece of plastic tubing in there)
3) Break it up into sections, this bit will feel like this, this bit will feel like that, and then you can mentally mark them off as you go, progress you see
4) Don't compare - you are in pain, it hurts, you aren't a traitor to humanity and other people in worse off cases for admitting it hurts
5) Don't pretend it doesn't - seriously what good does that do, a little yelp here and there eases the tension
6) Stay in control - think about what is actually real about this situation and make factual statements to yourself about it, e.g. gosh that hurts right now, it won't hurt so much once the needle is out.
7) Make jokes - it's something to do, you laugh, the nurse laughs, it's all good and it passes valuable pain seconds

On a serious note...

I marvel at people who intentionally subject themselves to pain of any kind. I'm not talking about the mentalists who do it for no reason. No. But the hero types. You know, the ones that push people out the way of moving traffic to save them, but getting hit themselves.
That's one of the many reasons I love Jesus. I was his enemy, but he took horrible pain and death to save me, so I could be with him. It's the only comparison when it comes to pain I'll ever make, nothing compares to what he suffered for me. If pain didn't exist, he wouldn't have been able to do it for me. It makes me a little glad for pain.

On boasting on facebook

You probably have read on my Facebook page my most recent boast.

Here I'll boast about it again some more: I changed my broken wing mirror for a lovely brand new one! I took off the old one, and to do that I actually had to use some sort of contraption from my husband's tool box. It undoes bolts. You may know what it is called, I don't, but to get the correct size I had to fit four different parts together and I figured it out on my own! So I removed the bolts, pulled off the old wing mirror, got the new one, which yes I had purchased the correct side, and fitted it on, using the same gadget to tighten the bolts (ratchet is it?) and shoved the cover panel back on (sort of). All this whilst supervising the play of two very energetic children of 2 and 3 years (I just found them on the street and felt sorry for them).
I was so encouraged by this accomplishment that I actually thought I could also put some more Freon in my car's AC unit. Sadly when I opened the bonnet I could not find where to put it. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Anyway, I decided to leave that to someone else and go inside and boast on Facebook about my first achievement and skip over my complete failure.

So why the need to boast? Couldn't I have been internally satisfied with my victory, woman over machine, and just drive around with the happy knowledge that I am not totally defunct in this area.

No this is not good enough! I have to, in one easy swoop, tell 234 friends about it. The world must know what a champion I am!

And so is the curse of Facebook, giving you far too much opportunity to brag, and so, it would seem, is Blogging.

I think that perhaps this is all that this modern media is good for, showing off. Showing off how funny you are, showing off how wise you are, showing off how deep you are, how brave you are, how great your kids are, how wonderfully interesting and eloquent you are (I read a post today that was interesting and in the middle of it used the word "coterminous" - I mean come on, who uses a word like that in the normal course of things - sorry to the author if you are reading this but you know I will happily say it to your face with a nice smile and an expectation that you will laugh too). And not just showing off, it gives loads of people the opportunity to affirm you in your showing off through the comments section, and themselves buffed up by the fact that you might choose to respond to their comment and praise them for their insight. Maybe I'm just judging everyone else by the colour of my own heart, but isn't what it is all about, deep down? Comment on me! Praise me! Hear my voice! And agree with me! Like me!

I've only written a few blogs and this is what I sense underneath my own witterings on. I know I'm probably about the millionth person to make such a comment on social media. I do not claim to be original. I guess I'm having one of those "isn't this all madness" days.

On Heros

What is it about heroes?
What is it about them that excites the most extreme, genuine, heartfelt emotion of honour and gratitude?
I love a good hero. I love a good story with something heroic happening in it. You will find me blubbing whilst watching movies containing any vague act of heroism.
My husband is my daughter's hero. I can tell. It's the way she looks at him and shouts "Daddy!"
If I told her that Daddy could lift up a car she would believe, such is her faith in her hero.
She seeks him out in the middle of night, begs for him to check on her and protect her from "The Measure" (her own special brand of Bogey monster). If Daddy leaves the house she is instantly on high alert for his return.
Perhaps it is because when she was a baby she took naps in his nook. Perhaps it is because of the time he literally dived across the floor as she rolled off the sofa to prevent her from hitting the floor. Perhaps it is big muscles and an ability to do press-ups too numerous to count. Perhaps it is that even though she is only three he sits her on his lap and tells her that the only boy she hugs is Daddy. It could be that he throws her high in the air time and time again. It could be the way he grabs her and kisses her into submission when she is grumpy. It could be the way he tells her when she has done something wrong and lets her feel the blessing of repenting and being forgiven. It could be these and the many more things he does because he is her Dad, and he is our hero.

On potty training

We've had some lovely moments over the few short years we've had our children, lovely disgusting moments, including but not limited to: weeing in the face, weeing on the floor, weeing in the bed, pooping in the knickers, projectile pooping, pooping on the floor (this closely followed by me stepping in it). So you can imagine our anticipation as our youngest begins the awful, ahem, wonderful potty training process. However, at the end of Day 1, I was very encouraged heralding my son as a toilet genius, having had no accidents whatsoever!
After some careful consideration I think I have narrowed down the key differences between first and second child that has led to this simply amazing success.

Step 1
Through sheer exhaustion of having two children and working full time, subject child to frequent episodes of one particular cartoon (in our case mickey mouse clubhouse), begin this about two months before starting the training

Step 2
Visit local toy store and purchase cartoon related colouring book, visit friend for playdate who has cartoon related toys, talk about cartoon at times when you can think of nothing else to say

Step 3
Do all the usual potty books, talking about the potty if you want to, it's neither here nor there

Step 4
Finally, after child is throughly enthused and emits squeals of delight at the mere mention of cartoon, purchase new underwear featuring favourite cartoon character

Step 5
On the morning of the first, show child new underwear.
"Now then, Johnny, Mickey Mouse doesn't like poo poo or pee pee to go on him, he says it has to go in the potty."
And off you go!

So, people, this I declare is: how to potty train.
100% success rate guaranteed for 24 hours until child decides to randomly poop on the floor again.

[Thankfully, I had already left for work - wahoo!!!! This one's for you Hubbie!]

On accidents...

Accident is an interesting word you know, it covers a plethora of events.

[Side note: I was once told that the definition of the word plethora included the word "of" and so you didn't need to put it after the word, e.g. I should have just written "plethora events". I don't know if this is actually true but it sounds awful. So forgive me, please, I will stick with being incorrect but sounding nice.]

So yes, a plethora of events, I was saying: injuries, incidents, forgetfulness, laziness, carelessness.
Here are some examples (I'll go with a lettered list today just to mix it up.):

A) Whoops, I just stepped on your toe, sorry, love, it was an accident.

C) Or Miss I accidentally left my homework on the kitchen counter.
     That's interesting, Billy. I have it here in my hand from when you left it in the classroom yesterday.

D) Mummy, I just had an accident. On the floor. Where you just stepped.

You see I don't think there is any such thing. The phrase 'it was an accident' implies a lack of blame, but there is always blame. You should have been looking where you were going, you should have thought about what to pack in your bag, you shouldn't have been so lazy you couldn't be bothered to walk to the bathroom.
We use it as a way of excusing ourselves, of getting out of admitting what we have done wrong. Like the boy who pooped on the floor because he was too lazy to use the bathroom, or the careless girl who was too busy texting to avoid your foot, we are all responsible for our actions. There are no accidents. If someone is hurt, then someone is to blame.

Am I being too harsh?

On being tired...

Things that make me tired:

1) Doing the washing up
You've done it, the sink is all nice and clear and then literally within 30 seconds somebody places another item in there! I mean, come on! Where is the mystical washing up fairy that I heard so much about growing up? Not at my house that's for sure. My friend says that housework is pearls on a thread (or something like that). Well I'm sorry, my dear friend, that pearl thread is making me tired.

2) Repeating myself
Sit down, please. Sit down, please. Sit down, please.
Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet.
Do your work. Do your work. Do your work.
Come here, please. Come here, please. Come here, please.
I shouldn't do it. I shouldn't repeat myself. I should just expect that they do it the first time.
I just get trapped in my own repetition cycle, like a broken record, it's a habit now. I just say everything three times. Try spending a day saying everything three times over. How do you feel at the end?

3) People who don't want to accept when they've done something wrong
Obviously, this happens more to me than your average Joe because of my profession.
Discipling people to a point where they can take responsibility is exhausting work! It's take time and patience. At this time of year, we teachers are running low on both.

4) Watching just one more Netflix show
This probably should have been at the top.
I'm watching the 4400 at the moment. It's utter nonsense, and yet I'm completely hooked!
I just have to know what will happen next! Even if it means I will lose out on my much needed sleep.

5) Paperwork
It's never ending.
It's never ending.
It's never ending.

Basic Obedience verses Blind Obedience

I recently had a conversation with a student about following instructions.
The student had been sent to me because they were in the canteen hanging around. The supervising teacher had asked the student to step back from the area but he had refused to follow the instruction.

Me: So you were in the canteen?
Student: Yes
Me: The teacher asked you to move back
Student: Yes
Me: And you didn't move back?
Student: No
Me: Why not?
Student: Why should I have to move from where I was standing if I wasn't doing anything wrong?
[The student is smart you see, like a clever politician in an interview, rejecting the premise of the question.]
Me: Because the teacher told you to
[Now I'm trapped in justifying myself, little trickster.]
Student: But I wasn't doing anything wrong
Me: It doesn't matter
Student: I should be able to stand where I want
Me: Really?
[Phew, get it back here, now the student has to justify themselves.]
Student: Yes
Me: So if you are standing on the street, not doing anything wrong and a Police Officer asks you to move, would you?
Student: No
Me: Wow! You are going to get arrested!
Student: No I'm not.
[The student's last resort - point blank denial.]

And on the conversation continued.
Now, just to be clear my point is not to criticise, as this student genuinely believed himself to be in the right.

But as I sit and think about it now, I wonder to myself was he right or was I?
Do instructions need a justification?
Should we encourage our young people to say "Yes, ma'am" and just do it, or is questioning the reasoning for an instruction a good practice?
Should we be teaching our young people how to ask for reasons for instructions in obedient ways?

The Blu-aise Maths

Maths, you are sooo wonderful.
Maths, you are so truuuue.
Maths, you are so punishing, you leave my mind black and bluuuue.

Maths, you are so beautiful.
Maths, you are so cleeeean.
Maths, you are so pitying, you created your own calculator, that my teacher still has not seen.

Oh Maths! Oh Maths!

Where would we be without you!

Oh Maths! Oh Maths!

Your purpose so hidden from me!

Oh Maths! Ooooh Maths!

Some days I can, some days I can't, and this is always case
Just when I think I've got the answer right, you come and slap me in the face!

Just make up your tune. I just sang part of it to my husband - he's calling 911 to have me committed.

Introduction and a note on pipping your horn

Everyone blogs, so I'm going to as well. I've resisted Blackberry's, IPads, IPhones, an Ilife but in this area I seemed to have slipped. Perhaps it is just an urge to be heard, a narcissistic tendency that has finally burst out. I hope it will just be a way to share the random goings on of my adventures in Cayman.
I'm Christian. I'm one of those crazy extremists too. I actually believe that the whole of the Bible is true, that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh, that you ought to lay down your life for your brother, that you should forgive much because you have been forgiven much. Just so you know. Just so as to warn you if you are one reading at a distance.
So, on pipping your horn. I received a comment from a friend today, one I've had many times before. Something along the lines of "I saw you driving along the road and I was beeping and waving but you didn't see me!"
[FYI: for the Non-Caymanians, people pip their horns by way of a friendly greeting here, I think other Caribbean countries too.]
Listen, I'm going to lay it out here.
1) When I'm driving, I'm driving, I'm trying not to crash. I've crashed once. It was awful. Never again if I can help it. I don't have time for your pleasantries! I'm trying not to get my legs mashed up or brains splattered out!
2) It may be friendly here, but I just can't get into it. Where I come from, pipping your horn is an angry thing, something you do to someone who has just cut you up, pulled out in front of you, generally got in your way and broken either a spoken or unspoken rule of the road. So if you're pipping me then I'm thinking: "What? What did I do?"
3) If I pip m'horn at you, it's because you just pushed me towards the boundaries of having to use my brakes sharply. Come on dude! Driving is about flow! Merge with the traffic!
My sister will be cracking up here - I'm sure she still remembers my frantic driving around London at the age of 19, when I went to pick her up. Flow I was not.
So remember folks, pipping is not for Ronnie's.
Love to you all.