Monthly Archives: April 2008

So long, farewell.

How do you leave a life? How do you pack it all up into boxes?

I’ve spent almost a month knowing this day would come. Knowing when I went looking round flats, when I signed my contract and sent it back, when I was excitedly telling everyone about my news. Knowing that the day would come when I would have to pack everything into a car and drive away from my home.

I’ve spent a week saying my goodbyes. Which I knew would be hard, but hadn’t anticipated quite how hard. Saying goodbye to people who have been my friends, my family, my support and my strength, for nearly 7 years. People who’ve shared all my ups and downs, achievements and sadnesses, who pick me up when I’m down, and laugh with me when things are tough. Wanting to see everyone again, just one last time, so that I don’t have to say goodbye just yet.

And now all that’s left here is a few bags and boxes. There’s no going back now, no changing my mind. No chance to stay. And yet, part of me hasn’t really taken it in yet. This place has a hold on me. People I’ve spoken to have said ‘I know its hard to leave, cos I haven’t managed it’. Oh how I wish I didn’t have to.

Whatever happens, I’m still going to keep going. I’m going to drive away from here tomorrow, knowing that I’m taking my memories with me. And that I’ll be back. Its not goodbye really, its ‘see you soon’.

But for now, I’m off. I know I’ve not been particularly regular at posting recently, but I’m likely to be offline for a couple of weeks, while I get my phone line and internet sorted in the new flat. I might pop by if I manage to swipe someone else’s in the meantime. Till then, take care. Thoughts and prayers in this direction appreciated.

I’ll be seeing you xx

The Emmaus road: a reflection

Walking home, its been a long week. You talk about everything that’s happened, its the only thing you can do, how else can you even try to understand it all? Even so, nothing makes sense any more. All the things you’ve believed in, given your time for, fought for, for the last three years. Gone, just like that. Nothing for it now but to go back to life as it was before, try to rebuild the life you had before he came along. Before you heard him speak those words.

Such amazing words, such wonderful things he said. You had to listen, you couldn’t help yourself, he had a way with people. And when he said he was from God, and had come to save his people, you believed him. Why wouldn’t you? The miracles he performed, the conviction with which he spoke in the temple. He had to be something special. Well perhaps you were wrong, along with the rest.

Walking home all these things run through your mind, again, for the hundredth time. And then this stranger appears as if from nowhere, seems to be the only person for miles who doesn’t know about these events. How could you not have heard?

There’s something comforting about his words though. He seems to know what he’s talking about, as he responds to your worries with words from the prophets. You’re still not sure, but something about the way he speaks soothes your mind a little. And when he tries to walk on from your home, you beg him to stay and eat.

You sit down at your table, and this man, this stranger who you barely know, takes up the bread. Ordinarily you’d feel a bit put out, after all, it’s the role of the man of the house, not the invited guest, to give thanks for the food. But before you can think, before you speak, you see the way he holds it, and you begin to see something that wasn’t there before. When he lifts it up and gives thanks to God, you know. He breaks it and gives it to you, and before you can respond, before you can take it, he’s gone.

The drama of moving house

On Thursday I moved into my new flat. I went up to my new home town in a big van with all my stuff, with Chris to help and his Dad being wonderful and driving us all the way there and back 🙂 The day itself went incredibly smoothly, we got from Bristol to Swansea on time, filled the van *completely* full, got to the estate agents on time, signed contracts, got keys, unloaded everything into the new flat, and were back home in Bristol in time for dinner. A *lot* of miles of driving, and a lot of carrying and lifting, but we did it.

This, however, was because we’d got the drama out of the way the day before.. Or more accurately I had. One of the advantages of Chris’ year abroad last year is he bought furniture, which at the moment isn’t being used. So the removals started Wednesday evening in Bristol as we loaded a double bed and a table and chairs (all in bits) into the van. Lastly came the mattress. Down two flights of stairs, round corners, almost there. Chris and his dad got the mattress to the last bend in the stairs with no problems. I’m standing at the bottom watching (there’s only so many people you can fit on the stairs with a double mattress..). They manouver it round the last corner, and a picture frame goes with it, and comes tumbling down the stairs towards me. Slow motion like in films. Instinctive reaction is to catch it before it breaks. However, this is not so sensible when the frame disintegrates and you end up catching a fast moving pane of glass. With the edge of your finger.


Its ok, I’ve got it. Relief.

Then lots of blood. Shock. Not so much pain. Interesting. Then more shock. Chris is trapped behind the mattress, his dad comes down the stairs leaving him holding it, and sticks my hand over the sink in the kitchen, trying to calm me down. Meanwhile Chris is upstairs yelling at brother to come and hold this NOW!! No not in a minute, now!!! On the advice of the neighbour who’s a GP, we leave for A&E to get it stitched, leaving a note for mum and other brother ‘Sarah’s cut her hand badly, gone to A&E’ (see blood on carpet!!!)

After a couple of hours sitting there holding my hand tightly and upright to stop the bleeding, a very nice young doctor puts a couple of stitches in it (with interesting reactions from me since I’ve never experienced a local anasthetic before..) and we go home. Good way to prepare for moving house.

But I got out of the lifting and carrying. Apparently its a rather extreme measure to go to. I don’t think I’ll be doing it again.