Category: post a day

“Nobody’s child”

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“I don’t remember a lot about my childhood: my very earliest memories are of living in a children’s home when I was about 4 or 5 years old.”

I didn’t remember what my favourite book was till I remembered a box of books in a cupboard. Then I had to go raking. I didn’t remember the title; however, soon as I saw it, I remembered the roller-coaster of emotions I felt reading it. Sadness, tears, loss, love, joy, laughter, they were all there. Not like most of the stories out there about abuse, it’s different from those in a way. The abuse is still there, oh my goodness you can’t forget it, but it’s somehow told in a different way. Perhaps I feel this way because I had the privilege of meeting Jon Robinson, the guy who was the little boy at the beginning of the book.

It’s years since I’ve read this book, and yet, I remember details of the story, which I am going to repeat to you now and not regurgitate the summary on the back of the book. I remember meeting him, remember liking him on first sight, I got the best hug, and we had a brilliant chat. He’s so humble, so unassuming, and yet there’s something compelling about him. When I heard he was speaking I jumped at the chance to go, and have never forgotten it. I’m not sure what he’s doing now. I’d like to find out.

Okay… so this is his story as I remember it. He’s in and out of foster-care and children’s homes most of his childhood. His is not a happy one, there is no story of redemption, at least not yet. I remember reading at the start of the book that other children had visitors on birthdays and holiday times, and he did not. He was the one left distraught. This home was okay. There’s another home I remember reading about where he and the other children were only allowed into their bedrooms when the social workers visited, and that was also the only time they could play with the toys. The rest of the time, they were locked in the cellar. At this particular home there was a wee boy, I think his name was Michael? Anyways, he finds out later that this little lad was his brother, so much later that by the time he knows the poor little lad has died.

Jon also ends up in prison, at least once, though I don’t remember what for. A long time down the story, with the support of his future wife, he asks to read, and reads his social work record. This is one of those stories in which, if like me you had a happy childhood, your eyes will open. If like Jon you were in care most of your childhood, you may well identify with it. Whatever your story, I urge you to read this book. I’m off now to re-read this gem of a book. I promise you, if you read it, it will stay with you forever, like only the best told stories do.

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Today’s daily prompt if you’d also ike to write about your favourite book.

The link to Nobody’s child on Amazon if you’d like to buy it:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nobodys-Child-Stirring-Story-Unwanted/dp/1854246232/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1357410871&sr=1-3

They’re special, my friends (part two)

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“The type of friend you attract is determined by the type of friend you are.” #friendship

I’ve really believed this, and tried to live it for the last few years. I cannot tell you when it began. It started with a slow realization about all the people I’d hurt in the past through mood swings, things I’d said without thinking, or just for the heck.of it. There was times I was awful in school, even though I claimed I was a Christian. Once or twice it was because people egged me on to say things, and I wasn’t strong enough to say no. I was even worse when I was about 6 or 7 and onwards. I was a bossy little madam, among other things. I lost a lot of friends, as I did at other times too. It all stayed with me as I didn’t even try to change. I’ve said all this backwards.

Anyway, I gradually got to the stage where I really believe the kind of friend you are can help bring you the kind of friends you would like to have.  If you are happy in yourself, and generally peaceful, I’ve discovered this is helpful too.  I’m not sure what else. I also believe it works the way the quote says too. I have such amazing friends hopefully makes me a better friend too  I LOVE my friends. I wrote about them recently for a differently daily prompt and I can’t top what I said then. To every last one of you, thank you.

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This is a response to the daily prompt for 4/1/13

The day(s) I (almost) ‘kicked the bucket’

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Almost, but not yet…

I have no clue what the 11th item on my bucket list is. (Today’s Daily Prompt). I don’t even have a bucket list! This even strikes me as odd. I’m not entirely sure why. My best guesses are that I’m not that ambitious. I’ve never had a wish to see the world, perhaps because I struggle with things like travel sickness. I’ve no idea what people would normally put on a bucket list. It’s also perhaps because in general, I’m more chilled than most about the end of life thing. I almost died a few times as a baby, as I was 12 wks premature and very ill, needing operations as a tiny baby. I’ve also been in a car accident, which I wasn’t badly hurt in, but the only reason for that is there was no traffic travelling in the opposite direction, or I may have been toast. Most recently, I had a life saving operation; the one which gave me the bag on my tummy. I’ve had to face it, which is part of why I’m not afraid. I also know where I’m going when I do die, the bigger part of why I’m unafraid.

So, what’s on a bucket list?

If I were to have a bucket list, I get it might include things like getting a book published, eventually, visiting friends in America, and I’m unsure what else. So over to you! What would be on your bucket list?

 

two days in…

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the days that changed my life

Holding on… Just!

I’ve never seriously made resolutions before, so I’ve never kept any. I’ve recognised things were lacking, such as the lack of discipline in my life, and I’ve fretted over it, at just the same time as a sermon on discipline in the believer’s life began on radio. Spooky… call it fate, call it a God-incidence… but I never seriously acted on it.
Two days in, how’s it going? Well, the third resolution (to write every day) is hanging by a thread! The intention was there, but due to the time difference. the ‘new post’ suggestion wasn’t there before I had to go out. I didn’t have inspiration of my own either as I often do.Once I got back, I fell asleep in my wheelchair for the whole evening… so frustrating! Getting up this early is my way of making up for that!

What about Resolutions one and two?

The other resolutions, to take weight loss seriously, and to have bible/prayer time every day are going ok. When I chose what I was going to eat yesterday, my carer was impressed at my menu choices of cordial and soda, and soup. What she doesn’t know is I finished the banana bread when I got home. Somehow that doesn’t feel so bad because it has a mixture of wholemeal and plain flour in it rather than just plain flour, so I’m sort of excusing it!
I did have Jesus time yesterday, though I kept falling asleep. I kept battling, so that I read a bit before I slept again rather than going straight back to sleep as I would before. Bit of battle already! Unfortunately, that’s how my life is at the moment. Intentional things get done if I manage to stay awake. Not impressed that I lost a whole evening to sleep as I have a fast approaching deadline, but there it is, no going back, only forwards!
Here’s to keeping the three resolutions this year. Just hanging in there. but that will have to do. I’m off back to bed, and hopefully to sleep. Otherwise I’d only raid the fridge again, as I did before I starting writing this. What did I just say about resolutions hanging by a thread?!

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Daily Prompt 2/1/13

’10…, 9…, 8….’

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A picture of a firework just as it explodes into multiple colours in the night sky.

On the stroke of midnight, I was where I (almost) always am. If you’d asked me at midday if I would be where I wanted to be I’d probably had scoffed and said I’d rather be anywhere else, but preferably with my family. I always miss them, but I especially missed them last night. I’ve spent 29 New Years Eve’s with them. This one was different. At midday, I’d have told you the telly would be rubbish and I would rather have been with my parents at the watch-night service.

All evening I missed them. All evening I was restless, thinking of a friend hundreds of miles away at a watch-night  service with their family in their city, and another at a party, others still were with family, or chilling out with boyfriends by their side. I longed to be anywhere but here. Fed up, I asked my carer to help me get into bed.

Still restless an hour later, up I got, searching the channels for something to watch. I saw Alan Carr make a right idiot of himself on his own show, smashed and swearing, a humour-full self-depreciating kind of drunk. One of his guests, I am unsure who, quipped that most hosts of most shows would use ‘fake’ booze, but not him! By this point, the show was in the midst of an end-of -year quiz, which required Carr to wear a penguin suit.

I have NEVER seen anything like it. Well worth a watch on ‘4-o-D’. Anyways, next moment, Carr’s on the floor and all panelists rush to his aid. Queue jokes about ‘accidently-on-purpose’ falling so the pretty girls would come to his aid. Wrong gender, obviously! He’s only just up on his feet when over he goes again. Eventually, Jack Whitehall and someone else, perhaps Jonothan Ross, wrestle Carr out of the suit. Even this is worth a watch, honestly! I wished I were in the audience, belly-laughing along. It’s not something I would usually have watched, switching on only because a friend wrote about how funny the show was.

All too soon, I was hunting for something else to watch, and decided to try Jools’ [Holland’s] Annual Hootenanny. Instantly I remembered a good few years ago, making a fuss because I wanted to watch the show rather than BBC Scotland’s coverage of Edinburgh’s New Years Eve Celebrations. That year however, I was reprimanded  rightly by a parent for being so rude, and put in my place, truth be told, it was not my thing. This year however, there was such a party atmosphere I felt as though I could almost have been there, dancing in my chair to the music and listening to the anecdotes from celebrity guests.

When it came to the countdown, I mouthed along with the audience. Just as 2013 arrived, I jumped due to an explosion of sound from my right; FIREWORKS! On the screen. the party continued, as did my jovial mood. One by one, friends descended on my Facebook page to wish ‘Happy New Year’.

If you’d asked me again, where would I rather be, I’d have said, nowhere, oh nowhere, but here.

Introduction to (my) faith, and disability

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This is my response to the daily prompt for 29/12/12: “Tell us about the role faith plays in your life-or doesn’t”. This is a MASSIVE question for me. Hopefully even occasional readers of my blog realise my Christian faith is a major part of my life, right from the beginning of my days. However, it’s not just my parents faith, but my own personal faith.

In the beginning…

I believe that I am created by a Father God who crafted me and knit me together in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139) 13-15 I am made in His image, that is, I show some characteristics of God because he made me. I believe He is a God who does not make mistakes, therefore, he knew what he was doing when he made me. He knew more than that. “All the days of my life were written in His Book before one of them came to be” (Psalm 139:16 ) So if God knew what my life would be, did he create my disability, or did he just “allow it?” Is it just one of those things that ‘happens’? I have a lot of unanswered questions about why I have been through all that I have, not just having a disability, but being ill and unable to work as well, in pain the majority of the time and therefore requiring an electric wheelchair to get around, as well as all the normal ‘life’ stuff. (If you’d like to read more, see earlier post: Introduction to Illness and Disability).

Sometimes I have some answers, and sometimes I wonder why this, why then, when will this end? I won’t have answers to my questions until I am in Heaven. For now, however hard it is, I only see dimly. People have asked me before, how can I believe in God even though I have a disability? Well if I’m thinking straight, I think of it this way… How can I not? I have a constant reminder that by myself, on my own, I am weak, I need God to help me get through each day, to help me persevere through al that goes on. When I am weak, God is strong (2 Corinthians 12: 11).

What is this faith thing, anyway?

I believe that all the bad things I do, hurtful actions, sharp words, lustful thoughts and (all the rest!) are a barrier between me and a perfect God who cannot be contaminated by contact with my diseased soul, covered in grime from all the bad things I’ve done. However, because God loves everyone he has made, there had to be a sacrifice to make up for all the bad things I’ve done. Enter Jesus. It was while I was still a sinner, that Jesus died for me (2 Corinthians 12:10)

I believe that once Jesus grew up, when he was roughly 33 years old, he was an innocent man. who was tried and crucified for all the bad things I’ve done. He took the punishment I deserve and died in my place, bridging the gap between me and God, making me  God’s child, and He my Heavenly Father.  (see John 3: 16 and 17)  I’m fortunate to have an earthly father who I love and cherish  and a heavenly father who created me. loves me, and who sent his Son to die for me to bridge the gap. Because of what Jesus did for me on the cross, I want to honour him by mirroring him, doing what Jesus would do and therefore showing the world who Jesus is.

So, what does all this mean for me, personally?

This means choosing to do the right thing even when I’m tired or in pain…. not moaning or complaining (I still do though! ). I don’t do things on my own. Jesus helps me. There’s a verse in the bible I love which explain the connection between what I believe, and my disability. If you only look at us, (me) you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious  Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. (1 Corinthians 4:7) . Basically  it’s God who powers me, who gives me the energy, I can’t do it by myself, but because God powers me, the credit goes to Him.

Three doors, one nightmare?

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This Daily Prompt is the original inspiration for this post. It’s difficult for me to write, as I don’t normally remember my nightmares. I’m on such heavy medication that I have deep foggy sleep where I barely dream, nevermind have nightmares, so until recently, I didn’t know what they felt like. Anyway, here is my best shot…

The beginning…

There are three doors, all of equal width apart, and all the same shade of blue, which white numbers on the door. Which do I pick? I close my eyes, spin around, and stumble vaguely in the direction of the doors, entering the first one I find. Disabled people are begging in the streets, painfully thin and stinking. There is a person with a disability trying to go the wrong way through the Christmas Crowd. Pushing, pushing with all their might. I can see the effort they have to put in. They are pale, sweating and exhausted. I reach out to try to help, but they cannot see me. Yet I cannot take my eyes off their struggle. I wonder, where is their support worker, why such struggle on their own? People in the crowd tut and glare at the person, swearing under their breath at the persons stupidity in trying to fight the crowd. The do not see the person or their struggle, merely the incontinence. I stare, helpless to do anything.

Memory of struggle

Slowly, a memory comes back to me. I was that person fighting the crowds. Sweating and fighting to stay on my feet, determined to push on. I hear it, I cannot miss it. The person does not try to hide their contempt. They shout at me, swearing. Supposedly under their breath, but loud enough for me to hear. The memory is but that. Part of my nightmare… long enough ago not to remember the words, near enough to remember the swearing and the contempt. They, and the crowd, and the fight was the reason I finally gave in. I’d had enough. The next time I went to fight the crowds, I had a weapon. Not a very secret one, but a weapon. One capable of inflicting harm, nipping ankles and causing more trouble. I do not care, I am only relived that I do not have the same struggle, I have a new struggle but it is not the same nightmare as the old one.

Exploring my surroundings

The memory disappears as quickly as it came. I wonder, what else is there here? I do as the person with a disability I saw, and fight the crowds. They cannot see me, yet are aware of an inconvenience.  Irritation upon irritation. I find a shop, filed with food and good things. Freshly baked bread, warm from the oven. Cakes of all kinds, glistening icing, full of shiny fruit. Chocolate cake, dark and indulgent. Lovely fruit juice, something to quench my thirst. I feel in my pocket, searching for money. I find a few coins, not enough to buy anything. I find my wallet, go to a cash machine, reaching the buttons with difficulty. I check my balance. There is nothing. I wonder when I will have more, and with horror realize I have a few days of not eating, meaning a hospital visit for dehydration. My money for that month had gone. I wonder, how have I spent it? Perhaps on my mobile phone bill? My connection to people, to help, an antidote to the aching loneliness which sometimes haunted me. Or my food shop, supposed to be for food, but spent on washing powder, cleaning products. I could go on, but cannot bear it. I feel it afresh. Deep and Raw. So, what do I do? Join the other beggars, it’s them who shout the loudest, and yet no-one hears me, so no one gives me anything, I am invisible to them.

A Nightmare?

I wake up shivering and sweating, struggling for breath. The pain rises in my chest, breath is harder to find. Eventually the feeling passes, and I drift into a sleep which gives no rest, fighting and fighting till I lose the duvet. I am freezing, yet I do not wake. In the morning, I go to put on my trousers. I used to have help to this. I reach into the pocket, and find a few coins. This was no nightmare…

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At the moment, this is just the stuff of nightmares. And yet, the present reality is bad enough. See my previous post. Who knows what will happen when “Universal Credit” comes in?

 

They’re special, my friends!

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This is in answer to the daily prompt for today. Bit of challenge for me, this one…

friends linking arms

I suppose if you asked any group of people, most would say some of their friends are great. However, my friends are in a different league altogether. I feel very privileged to have as many friends as I do, from so many places, ages and stages, and with so many gifts and abilities. Not only that, but one or two have been there for years. Maybe there’s nothing unusual in still having a childhood friend, I have no idea.

Of the friends that live near me, I have friends I only see every 6 months, and we can pick up again as though it were yesterday. Others visit regularly, including one special lady who fills my medicine dispenser box every week. Some come for a drink, others for tea, and some even bring tea, or cake, or even cake that they’ve made. Now those are friends worth having! Others write, email or only phone occasionally. Some I have never met in person, including those through Facebook or Twitter, but I have a connection with them, especially those in a same-but-different ill and/or disabled situation because of mutual support and information sharing.

I love when I’m able to give  to my friends and not just receive. Those who’ve stuck by me. To me,  my friends go the extra mile, more often. I’m hardly ever able to meet them in town, or at their houses. I love relaxing over coffee or hot chocolate and a shared slice of cake! Though it’s exhausting, I also love days where it’s, one person comes into my flat as another one leaves. I love times like that because I love people in general, especially my friends, no matter how exhausting it gets or how much energy it costs. They’re worth it — every last one!

who cares?

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Thursday’s prompt…

As I said on Thursday, I’m inclined to write about ‘daily prompt‘ posts the day after or later, in part due to the time difference. Anyway Thursday’s daily prompt suggested writing an op-ed’ to a news story I’ve been thinking about. I think the translation of ‘op-ed’ here would be ‘editorial comment’. I meant to write this sooner, but for various reasons I haven’t… and I’m still thinking about it… so here goes!

New spin, on an old story…

I’ve just looked up the article and realised it was published ten days ago, but for reasons that will become clear it’s still relevant. I first saw this story when @ChrisClose50 tweeted the link, with the comment. If I’ve been really clever you should see his tweet in it’s original form, below!

 

At first, I didn’t understand the headline at all. Apart from, it meant something bad because of Chris’ tweet. where I originally saw the story. Here’s the headline: Care homes being sold off to hedge-funds? What does that even mean? Determined to find out, I started to read.

I have to say, I still don’t know what a hedge-fund is, so why was I still interested in the story?! Said hedge-fund bought a care agency, before as it turns out, so this recent acciuision of a contract and land is nothing new. So, which care-agency does this hedge-fund own? Care UK, as it turns out. (the lot who get me up in the morning belong to ’em) NOW I’m interested.

There’s plenty to scare about this story, including that the land the current care home is situated on has been given free minus conditions. So that’s alright then, the company can be trusted just because they’re the ones with the pennies?

Here’s the rub…

Apparently not… that which haunts many a big company also haunts the big providers in the sector, and Care-UK in particular — DEBT.

six of the biggest care home owners have combined debts of almost £5bn, but the corporate veil makes thorough scrutiny of finances difficult.

Not only are they keeping worrying levels of information to themselves, the lack of transparency is also a concern… surely this means they have something to hide? Lest we forget, Care UK took over doomed ‘Southern Cross’ care homes. However, Care UK themselves are not beyond reproach… according to the article, their debt is thought to be £480m. I find this particularly worrying given the amounts they get paid to carry out contracts of care, and how little people who work in the sector get paid.  Suffolk council claims to have a ‘Plan B’ should Care UK get into financial trouble.

I hope the council does get the homes they need, and I hope it all goes swimmingly. However, we may not have heard the end of this story, and am also convinced similar sell-off’s will continue in the future, unless the Government really grasps hold of situation, which at the moment, they same wholly incapable of doing.

 

please God, can I start over?

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The ‘Daily’ Prompt, a Day late!

This is my answer to the  daily prompt from 14th November. I’ve not very o fay with time of day the posts are published and what time that is in GMT so I’m not always on the right day! However, the subject of this post really caught my attentions as it asked each of us to think of a time that would, could or should have turned out differently. My answer came pretty easily to me. It all has to do with my tongue…

Lashing out with our words…

Those moments where what is my head just comes out. Worse I say what is in my head without thinking. Even worse than that is I say what is in my head without even thinking in a hurtful tone of voice or in anger. Not being very physically able, the easiest way for me to hurt someone or do something wrong is by thought, speech, or both.I can think of one group of people, one carer and one PA from different times in the past few years with whom I would like to have gone back in time and ‘undone’ my actions.

Forgiveness

However, this is not possible. Thanks to the saving work of Jesus on the cross. It is possible to seek forgiveness from Our Heavenly father for my actions, and to pray that He may heal the wounds I have caused, but is impossible to go back and repair the damage I caused. That I guess, is my biggest regret when we are called to be ‘salt and ‘light’ and I am anything but. It shows me how important it is to ‘make the most of every opportunity’ to reach out to others in whatever way I can, and to remember that as tired and pained as I am this is not an excuse. Perhaps I am being hard on myself… but I do pray that those people may meet other who witness to them more faithfully that I did, and short of being able to start over, all I can do is entrust it, and them, to the care of our Heavenly Father, and be thankful, that this I can do!