Meet the Author's Author

Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Friday, June 29, 2012

When the Next Week Comes...

This week has been one of getting lost in God's presence and doing what I love most - reaching out and being there to support, encourage and lift people up in prayer together before the Lord.

Next week will be one of doubt, despair, darkness and sadness surrounding, seeping, overpowering from all directions.

Question is...will I give in? Will the darkness encompass and take over my soul, or will I let it drive me towards the Rock of Ages? Will I feed on Him and feast in Him and drown myself in Him and continue to struggle on to shine His life and His light out, or will I let go and give way piece by piece on what I believe and/or know to be true, and watch the darkness come in?

Darkness always creeps in by the shadows. But light always follows the night.

If I say, surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be(come) as night - (why!) even the darkness is not dark to Thee! And the night is as bright as the day!

Psalm 139


God is so kind. So gentle. Even in the cruel things, look for His sensitive touch.

Wrapped up in the peace and deliverance from (a particular) sin yesterday, two attacks came in today - minor ones, yet ones that shook me into fear.
What is fear, when submitted to God?

Nothing...because love comes in...and love conquers fear.

Love is light...and fear is darkness.

I just...love the way that those attacks are small, preparing, and He lead me back to Himself, and that when the full force hits next week...even if I let go on Him, oh boy - He's got me! Even when the worst time in our lives comes - He's got us.

I know all attacks aren't mild and preparatory... but that was just so delightfully God's kindness, I had to share it. :D

Every aspect of our lives must be continually surrendered!!

You know...I think God allows attacks to keep coming to keep our feet on the ground. Otherwise we'd end up so happy we'd end up being big-headed and unable to empathise with others where He needs us to.
And - we wouldn't grow. Pain is growth.

*is singing* Your goodness and mercy are for all generations.

~Mademoiselle Siân

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Responsible Parents

I heard a heart-breaking story today, but one that's only too often repeated - how a girl lacks the emotional connection she needs with her father, and therefore becomes easy prey to guys who promise to love and cherish - and abuse that privilege and then abandon her.

Yes, I know that children who are well-raised often fall by themselves through no fault of the parents. However, I'm just touching on the majority of people that I've witnessed.

Young men are far more likely to become addicted to pornography and girlfriends to boost their insecure self-esteem and girls are far more likely to dress immodestly (not counting in the peer pressure, of course) and move into relationships with boyfriend after boyfriend, even giving up their virginity, if they lack the emotional family connection back home - and most importantly, the influence of their father.

When a guy has a close emotional bond with his father, and when a girl has an open communication and connection line with her father; when a guy and a girl are able to freely converse with their mother without ending up in a verbal fight and feeling unable to express the way they feel, then they're more likely to end up as the individuals we need to start the next generation.

Things like this make me cry...how important and how valuable it is that parents put effort and dedication into their children's lives, into keeping those communication lines open. How responsible we are for the next generation...and how much one thing that isn't really bothered about (ie, communication, after all, they provide church, God input, clothing, a house) has value.
It's funny, cause so many Christian parents focus on two of the three values - physical care and spiritual care. And forget the joining level - emotional care.
It's when we damage that middle level that neither of the other two levels mean anything.

We're body, soul and spirit - and if we don't care for the soul, then we make it harder for God to access the spirit. And if you notice, nearly all kids would rather live with meagre food and holes in their clothing with two or three toys, and feel happy and loved, than they would to be in a wealthy, rich home and starved of affection and care.

They want to be listened to - for what hurts them to be heard, for their pain to be felt, for their confusion to be understood. While we cannot be God and be the ultimate comforter, we can be His Hands and reach out to ease the pain and point through our self-sacrifice (giving up time and things) to Him.

A father needs to provide care and attention and form close emotional bonds with his children as much as a mother needs to give time and unconditional love and developing her relationship with God so she can draw her family close to Him.

Wow...

I'm awed and humbled by the responsibility of parenthood...more so than ever before, as God asks me to be open and usable for Him to reach these young people.

The cry of most people is "Listen to me!" A cry for understanding.
I just want to say..."Don't give up."

Christ loves.

With His love,
~Mademoiselle Siân

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Searching For Love

I was wondering what to post for my 20th birthday blog post. And...I'd like to share this. From my heart again. ;)

"Janey, I'd like to ask prayer for healing for your eczema. Would that be okay?" Laura asked, keeping her arm around me.

I nodded.

"Sure, why not."

My family didn't raise me to believe in commanding diseases to leave the body, but I understood that it was done still with the acknowledgement God may not choose to grant it, but the belief that until proved otherwise, He had.

Laura caught the main guy's attention and asked him to pray.

"Sure!"

He moved over to me. Laura had slipped her arms around me again, and my remaining OYAN siblings moved in as a circle around me.

"You be the point of contact." He placed his hand on Laura's shoulder and prayed for complete healing of my body. Then he placed on his hand on my head, commanding the eczema to leave my body in the Name of Jesus.

What followed next was what pushed me to racking sobs.

Not that THAT was too surprising.

I'd gone to church that morning laughing, happy (truly! I am going through a strange time of bitter pain and peace, and God's being distant because of something I'm doing, and at the same time, feeling His presence intrinsically close), dressed up...and expecting condemnation.
I'm used to expecting the heavy hand of God's anger to fall. I always forget His mercy.

It was fun being there with the remaining OYAN gang: Keif, Addison, Case, Jared, Star, Laura-le, her Mom, the rest of the Lucchi-Grey family and Mr. and Mrs. S.

The guy had spoken on not hardening our hearts. On how we often looked at the future and doubted God could perform miracles or change our situation or do His best for us - and we forgot to look back at what He had done in the past, how He had provided.

I was in tears.

I had attended the S's home church that morning because I knew there would still be OYAN folk there, and I remembered the near presence of God last year and wanted to be part again.
Still, after something that occurred the night before (personally, nothing to do with anyone else :P), I came to church expecting to be condemned, feeling like I was labelled with darkness and God was going to do nothing but preach at me.

Since I left OYAN, I had the weird sensation (since this issue has been going on for roughly a week) of both pain and peace, and that God was distant and at the same time, so, so close.

So I felt His gentle love at the same time as I was sure He was going to lecture me.

And He didn't.

He used those words to gently chide my root fear - the fear of never coming back to America, to OYAN next year. The black dark terror at the idea of working for at least the next two years, involved in all the different things and trying to do all the things that I'm supposed to be doing and the fear of getting tied closer to England, fixating on my present and past rather than on the passion He has put in my heart for the future.

Have I not provided before? Have I not brought you here the last two years? Do I not use every single thing you go through to My glory - from being thankful for a slice of bread, to praising Me for a roof over your head, to trusting Me with your love, to the lessons I teach you of surrendering everything - over and over - joy, love, tears, pain? Do you not think I can make a way for you and bring you through the wilderness?

Oh yes, Lord. Oh, oh yes. I know You can.

So when the guy placed his hand on my head, I should have been expecting what came next.
Because he said he saw that God had a special place for me in His heart. That He loved everyone, but that He had a special love for me. That I was like a flower of many colours in His sight.

And all I thought, repeatedly, was "a Father for the fatherless, a help to the widow and orphan, a Defender for the defenceless". He is.

It broke me in a way that a lecture on my sin could not do. And not only that, but the bitter-sweet blessings that a lot of you peoples emailed, tweeted or posted on one of my profiles the next day - my birthday.

Truly, He binds up the broken-hearted. He heals all diseases. He transforms and He makes us into new creatures.
He won't tolerate sin forever, but He doesn't bash us over the head with it either. God doesn't lop a branch off a tree. He goes for the heart of the problem first. So don't look for Him to be addressing the obvious, if there's something deeper. Don't forget that He knows you - inside out.

And when you're searching for love, He is. :)

In Christ, with love,
Mademoiselle Siân/Queen Jane

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

About OYAN...

It is so hard to express what this week has meant to me, that I'm going to post up a blog post from a note on Facebook, written by my brother Miguel, and a link to another written by my twin sister, Kiehl.
I know...cop-out. ;) Please, please read them.

And for what is in my heart regarding OYAN?

And when the Spirit of God is in so many of us in one heart, one mind and one goal...then let there be LIGHT. And there will be dynamite. #OYAN

I had to laugh tonight when someone told me that OYAN's focus on "religion" was "a big flaw", and "undermined OYAN's value." Oh. My. Days.
How can people be so blind...? How can they not see that we would never be so bonded if it weren't for the love of Christ? How can I express the frustration I feel as I remember that 1 hr 45 mins prayer meeting on the last night, and how God moved in and through and united and calmed us and gave us that vision for the future?

From Heaven to Earth
by Miguel Flores on Sunday, 24 June 2012 at 23:53 ·

Every goodbye is a new hello. After seeing your faces and hearing your voices, I felt as if my heart were about to be shattered to pieces. I knew the week would be hard--I guess I lied to myself that it wouldn't, like a good handful of you--but now that the moment had come, things were much harder than I even thought possible. However, this violent shaking inside of me did not happen because I felt like my heart would crack from grief, but because I felt such an overflow of love and joy, such peace and contentment and... longing.

It was a feeling that had started from day one, when I first shuffled through glass doors into crowded room full of both familiar and unfamiliar faces--every face was beautiful though; every face was precious. I wished I could breathe in the wonder of the moment. If I had anything to compare heaven to, well perhaps this was it. If home is where the heart was, then my heart had found its home.

The motto this year was "bigger on the inside", and I believe that was applicable in so many, many different ways. Mere words cannot grasp the glory of the moment, so thankfully words aren't the only thing represented. Words that hold power, that hold grace, that hold purpose. Words may look small, but they're bigger on the inside. And, so are their wielders.

In that room and throughout that week, I caught glimpses of a hundred seventy-four wonderful faces, wonderful lives, and such wonderful, personal stories. Don't ever think you're "just" a person; with God on your side, you're so much bigger on the inside. With God on your side, you can go from David the young shepherd to David the giant slayer. With God on your side, little lamb, you can send the wolves running and make the dragon tremble. Just the thought warms my heart, and a fire provokes my spirit when I think of how powerfully God can use you.

As I reconnected with old friends and established relationships with new ones, it was a great comfort to me that we are a family. I honestly don't care if you want to call it a community, curriculum, or whatever; it is a family. And not just because we feel comfortable with an auditorium full of other freakishly, weird people who happen to like writing and other "ridiculous" things. We're a family because we are adopted--adopted by a wonderful, glorious God. And especially, I love Star's heartfelt prayer during the last day of the Workshop: "thank you for the OYAN church." There was something more than just a tightly-knit group of people this past week; there was a life breathed into everyone, and that life was so precious.

The first official day of the Workshop did give me shivers, however; I cannot lie. Mostly it was leading a critique where I didn't actually really know all of the members and, to be honest, they didn't exactly know me all that well either. But good Lord was I glad that I had gotten this group. Their writing truly astounded me and many times I felt like I was the one learning the most from them--even if I hadn't brought excerpts the whole time. Thanks, Ravens and to our toothy apple for the amazing experience; I am so looking forward to keeping in touch with the lot of your awesome and sometimes weird faces.

Strangely, the second day became more of a step-out day. I met so many people I never even knew about and, by the end of the week, was able to consider these people very good friends--even when they made my mind explode with odd situations involving spandex, grand philosophical schemes for turtles, or just had a "normal" conversation involving our favorite movies and stories--as well as how bloody, violent, and generally disturbing they could be. We also got the chance to hear from Jeff Gerke, who we heard from many times throughout the week. His humor and vast knowledge fit well hand in hand and I find myself wondering if he isn't some covert OYAN ninja who stalks the forum. The end of the second day was bittersweet, however, as a realization came upon me that the week was already halfway taken away.

The third day was then more-so bitter, but also marvelous. This time I tried to do my best to talk to the lovely siblings and buddies I hadn't gotten much of a chance to hang out with so far. It was good to be able to see so many of them again--how much they'd grown... or hadn't--and it was wonderful to simply listen to them or reenact awkard fight scenes in the grassy knoll or write deviously terrible stories that would end in a healthy amount of all-around confusion.

And, lest I ever be shamed to not mention him: Mark Wilson. The Workshop would have been perfect if only it did have pictures of Professor Wilson's face plastered over all the walls. In simpler words, he is awesome, epic, and needs a new car apparently.

Yes, the week was beautiful, in every sense of that word and beyond every meaning that we've tried to label it with. It's hard to capture such a wonderful picture in mere words, hard to capture such a brief moment even if I had all of this next year to rebuild the memory; and so, I will not even try. I will remember, and I will smile as the memories come, but I will not try to hold the memory too close because I know that this is only just another stepping stone for bigger and more beautiful things to follow.

Now I can't lie. I did have a few regrets, mostly because I wasn't able to talk to some of the people I wanted to. There were so many people this year, which really is just a testament to how much God has blessed this amazing group of people, but there was such an overwhelming number of people. I sincerely wish I could just pick you all up, stick you into the TARDIS, and whisk all ya'll away to some unclaimed island where we'd set up a castle reminiscent of Cair Paravel. For serious. But, that's not going to happen, so I'll have to settle for the better thing of seeing all your faces in a later life where we will sing songs to God's name and in His presence.

That day isn't here yet, though; we're still in the war. And so we still feel hurt... but we also feel love. There is no greater power, and no greater way I can express it other than I love you guys. One of the things that touched me most, I believe, was hearing all the "student speeches" and seeing, and remembering, how every one person touches another--even when they don't realize it. We all have stories, written and/or lived, and those stories do touch lives. If I ever wanted any of you to remember something, that single truth would be it: don't stop letting God use you, because you do touch lives. He uses you all through your brokenness, He speaks through your words, He loves through your lives.

The last day showed me this in all its encompassing glory, and it is from that last day that I got the title for this lengthy letter. When I was able to talk with my friends on the curb of a road and simply share and experience the joy and wonder of such an overhwelming week, and then when we were able to simply bow our heads and pray, I saw a little bit of heaven. I saw just a little bit of heaven in your faces when I looked up. When I saw the large body of believers kneeled down, and heard the many voices singing the heartfelt melody of Amazing Grace, I felt the very presence of Love.

And now we're back on earth, a place where the world will try to tell you that you're smaller than you really are, that your words don't mean anything, that your life is worthless, and that the very existence of God and life and love are nothing but dreams and shadows. Don't believe them. Because I've seen the effect you have on others, and the effect of a mighty God in the midst of broken vessels. If ever you are tempted to fall down into the darkness, remember the power of the light that cuts through. Remember that life is truly beautiful. Remember that love conquers all things. Remember, friends, that you are Loved.


And from the pen of Kiehl Gatley:
http://writing4elyon.com/2012/06/oyan-changing-lives-for-god/

OYAN. So much more than a writing curriculum. Or a bunch of young people with a common interest. We're bonded together in soul, heart and spirit.
That is what OYAN is about. It far transcends the mere occupation of writing. It reaches into the souls, hearts and spirits of people - and that is where God dwells within.
And He will use us.

In Christ,
~Mademoiselle Siân

Monday, June 25, 2012

Whatever Is of God Is Love

(As most of you know, I'm in Overland Park, Kansas, staying with the Noe family for the One Year Adventure Novel - OYAN - Workshop 2012. Today, June 23, is the day after the workshop ended.)

Sarah Noe is wearing a very cool t-shirt. It has on the back "Live, Move, Be", and a Scripture reference in Acts. I likey.

I'm struggling to find words to say what's in my heart, so for right now, I'm just going to type out the little speech thingie I gave last night just before the final session ended.

I was shaking, writing this. I wrote it and struggled with words, and re-read to find out that it said a lot that struck the chords inside of me, but nothing that really seemed to say my deepest emotions. I debated backing out of reading it...and the only reason I wrote it was so I'd stand less chance of crying on stage.
I prayed God would bless it and that it would be used to bless, but it felt totally inadequate and I wasn't expecting Him to.


I know this sounds ridiculous coming from someone like me, but I'm absolutely terrified to be standing up here before you. In fact, if it hadn't been for Mig and Janae (BlizzardofFire and Sharpie) saying what they did before, I wouldn't have had the courage to do so. So thank you, guys, for that.

Most of you know me as bright, bubbly, random and happy. I'm pretty good at the superficial stuff, but what's really hard is to share what's in my heart - which as you all know is something writing does, for all of us.

So I'm asking your forgiveness if this sounds silly or like a pity party or something, cause I don't mean it that way.

My family life is not one of the best, and the only reason I'm saying that is so that it makes what I'm about to say a bit clearer.

I'm here at the Workshop this year not because of writing, dearly as I love it. I here because...of love. Because God loved me enough to provide, because people prayed. And that's the only reason I'm standing here today.

God's given me a desire and a burden to reach out and minister to people, just to love them, and I just want to thank you guys for giving me the opportunity to do that - especially my siblings, for letting me reach out to touch your hearts.

One of the things about having many friends is that it's hard, nearly impossible, to maintain close friendships.

And incredible as it sounds, I often feel terribly alone. It's hard to talk about the trust barriers, as God has removed and how He's teaching me that...that human friendships are important, yes, but He is more so, and by moving them away He's trying to clear my vision and heart to show me He is all I need.

At the same time, He provides comfort to remind me I'm not unloved, often in the strangest ways, and I'd really like to thank a lady, one of the parents, who overcame the usual distance people put between themselves and someone who's crying to pray with me this week, and my sibs, JJ, Gunnar and another one, I'm sorry I can't remember, for their little cheer for me yesterday.

(The three of them stood up in the cafeteria and yelled out 'Long live Queen Jane'.)

But why I'm really here is to thank six particular friends of mine who have this week loved me unconditionally through my barriers, held me while I wept, and prayed with me. You have touched my heart more than you could ever know.

Sarah Noe.
Laura Jenkins.
Erin Spragg.
Grace Garner.
Timothy Meigs.
Braden Russell.

And also Mrs Beals who prevented me by God's grace from having an allergic reaction to peanut butter on site. <3

I also want to thank Sarah Hahn (NarniaLover) and Kristin Dodd for letting me reach out to you, for reaching out to me and loving me in return.

And, thank you to Mr. and Mrs. S.... for being willing to be used of God and doing OYAN, which has turned out to do something I'm pretty sure they never imagined. You've given me an international family, love and home...I wish I could say everything in my heart, but it would never be enough.

Finally, I just want to say to you guys...writing touches lives. But it's no good if it doesn't touch yours first. Like you've heard already...let it change you. You need to live and experience to write. And if you don't love, then you haven't lived. Because love is what's brought me here. Love from and for you all.

I'm sorry this was awkward. Words from my heart always are. You guys are awesome. And valuable. All of you are totally valuable. I just want you to remember that.
Thank you. I love you. And God bless you.


During the second day, I was having trouble concentrating...as I did from the second day onwards, thinking of the end of OYAN and going back home...and I wrote a short script on love during my note taking on Professor Mark Wilson's (how dearly we love Mark ;)) seminar.


Love is one of the most delicate things in the world. A word can inspire it; a word can embarrass it; a word can destroy it.

Yet, love is one of the strongest things on earth. Inspired by the power of God, it can walk through fire and water, through pain and bitter opposition, through time and death.

Sometimes, the strongest things are the weakest. A cobweb is one of the strongest silks in creation. An ant can carry more than fifty times its own weight. A blind man on the side of the road is stronger than a rich young ruler.

God uses the weak things of the world to confound the wise.

He uses love to bind, heal, unite, to create a nation, to make a family.

Love saves. It thinks nothing of the cost to self.
Love is strong and unswerved by all the forces of darkness around it.

The strongest loves in the world are designed to be husband and wife, parent and child.
And why?
Because they are mirrored reflections of the love of God to man.
That is why those loves, above all, must be kept pure.

What is love? So strong, so weak.

Fragile, beautiful, delicate, teaching, healing, enduring, everlasting.

Unconditional.

Love is God. For God is Love.

And true love of any kind can only come in any unperverted form from God.


I experienced love this week in a way that I did not even feel it last year. I saw Him in everything.

From the joys of singing with so many of my sisters, to trying to help people, to being prayed with and able to pray for people and being held and holding while weeping.
The excitement of people over "Queen Jane's Caravan".
The awe of walking in after rounding people up with the words "If you're my sibling or want to be my sibling, come into the gym for a photograph", and discovering the three tiers packed with roughly 105 of my siblings - and more than seven weren't able to be there.
The fear of going up on the platform and nearly not going, in spite of wanting so much to thank those who had helped me so much and also wanting to try and bring some glory to God...
And what would not have happened if I hadn't - what brought me to tears afterwards; five or six students and two parents coming up and thanking me...for what I'd said or something that had been done during the week.

God is an amazing God. He brings inspiration and trust and joy in the midst and at the point where you feel the most isolated.

OUR GOD IS GREATER! He can conquer fear. He can conquer sin. He can conquer death! He can conquer addictions. He can conquer lust. He can conquer the world, the flesh and the devil. He can conquer the bars of jails and the gates of hell!
Why? BECAUSE HE IS GOD!!!

I love you all so much!

In Christ,
Mademoiselle Siân

Thursday, June 14, 2012

The Last Parade of Ex-Cadet Ex-Corporal Jones

Walking into 425 Squadron hot, flushed and with a headache at 7:55pm, furious because on my last parade night as a (nearly) 20 year old cadet, I had been searching at home for 30 minutes and couldn't find my beret, I had no idea my night was going to be so splendid.

It really is my last parade night tonight - officially. My 3822a has been signed off - "This is to certify that Cadet Sian Jones has left 425 Squadron because of AGE LIMIT." However, I'm doing a final parade night tomorrow with the Squadron I began my cadet career with - 196 Squadron, my home Squadron - my heart's Squadron.

Last night, in crumpled, oil-smeared, un-ironed uniform at CWO Horobin's Dacre Sword presentation, I thought back through all the time I had been in cadets, and everything I'd left undone.
Was it worth it?

A rank gained - and lost through transferral due to pressures from home plus a power struggle, never to be regained.

A BTec begun - Public Services - never completed.

A D of E award scheme applied for twice - the D of E officer left the Squadron after we got our little books.

Gliding Induction Courses - two completed out of three.

Shooting, which I joined for - I passed the test in one short night on the Squadron floor, and never went shooting.

Camps - money ran out.

So much I'd wanted to do...so much I never did.

A. Sgt. Horobin asked me tonight if there was anything I wanted to say. Four and a half years of my cadet history running through my head, and I had no idea how to say it - so chose a parroted old phrase instead.

"I'd just like to say, make the most of what the cadets has to offer - you won't regret it."

But I love my drill. I love my uniform. I love parades. And oh boy! Am I ever going to miss them.

Would I change it at all? Some stuff I would. I look back on some things that I missed, some of my decisions and some of my actions in the Corps with deep regret. And other things, I never would change.

The Corps changed me. I was a shy, self-effacing 15 and a half year old girl who hid in corners with a hood over her face when I first joined. I'm comfortable in taking command, in being in other people's space when required and not being so stiff about my own, in learning to change.
A lot of that, the Corps has done for me.


A witness for Christ, a mission field. That was the Corps to me when I first arrived at 196 Squadron. I went to support my brother. Then they made a cadet out of me. I'll never forget the night that Mr Wilcox watched me teach drill (three months in) to my brother and another new cadet, and said to then Sgt Beckett, "we might have a future NCO here!"

I stayed with the Squadron through thick and thin - when it collapsed and we were running the entire thing on a hardcore of six regular cadets - Sgt Beckett, Cpls Lindop, Rowley and Bolas, and Cdt Hodgetts and me.

We knit together as a second family, and my second life was cadets. Every event I could in good conscience attend, I came to for the Squadron. Parades and community events were, and always will be now, what I loved.

My world ripped apart when the Boss left the Squadron, taking with him Sgt Beckett. He promoted me to trainee Corporal/acting Corporal the night he left, the end of October 2009.

I fought against accepting the rank as I felt I didn't deserve it, but in the meantime tried to help run the Sqn and assist new Sgts Rowley and Lindop.

In February 2010, Flt Lt Averill promoted me to full Corporal. That same month Cdt Taylor transferred from Cosford Sqn. She did a lot of work in helping our cadets, and by May was also corporal.

I got along with most of my cadets, and tried to look after them and be a role model to the best of my ability, being one of few on the Squadron who was able to keep a form of discipline when they were on parade.
I created a small nucleus of cadets who I had personally taught, trying to knit them together as a hardcore and encourage them to build up and teach other newer cadets who were coming on the Squadron in masses, something which took off almost without any effort from me in my cadet, Shannon Yates. She's now a corporal with a potentially brilliant career ahead in the ATC.

By April of 2011, some...massive changes had occurred in my personal life and my family, making an upcoming and increasing power struggle on the Squadron unbearable, at which point my mother arranged my transferral to 425 as I was coming home almost every night in tears.

425 is a good Squadron. Good staff hardcore. Good cadets. And, as a near-19 year old, it was a good retirement home. The staff and senior cadets were and have been and are very supportive of me as a person, and I have really needed that. The Horobins have been there for me at every turn - Sue, Laura and Luke. I really wish I knew what to say as thanks.
Sgt Corner and Sgt Sedgewick have also, for me, been two of the most supportive and encouraging senior cadets, as were Cpl Bayley and Cpl Soen.
Of course, I can't really close off without saying thanks to my really good buddies from when I first joined the Squadron, those who kind of mentored me and the young'uns who've stuck around me now.

From 196 - CWO Rowley, CWO Lindop, Cpl Yates, Cpl Hodgetts, Cpl Bate, Cdt James, Cdt Fletcher, Cdt York, Cdt Petty.
Flt Lt Averill, AWO Bennett, Mr and Mrs Humpage, Mr Alcock, Karen, Mr and Mrs Talbot, Mr Binion, Mary.

Flt Lt Beckett, Sgt Beckett, Sgt Russon, Cpl Bolas, Cdt Hough, Cdt Norris.

From 425 - CWO Horobin, Sgts Sedgwick and Corner, Cpls Soen and Bayley, Cdt Banks, Cdt Batchelor, Cdt Henderson, Cdt Lloyd, Cdt Tomlin, Cdt Carver
Flt Lt Morries-Bates, Flt Lt Halford, Sue Horobin, Sgt Horobin, Sgt Lunn, Mr Batchelor, Mr Sheppard, Miss Jones, Padre Worrall


I sometimes wonder if my focus was entirely corrupted from what happened in November 2009...although God has still shone forth through me since. I just wonder...if the testimony is quite as bright as it once was.


Tonight, I walked in (I found my beret! It was on the bus from last night's Dacre Sword Presentation! :D) and they were doing drill. Because I was late, I didn't get to do any, before we fell out and formed a queue for the food. When that was done, Padre Worrall got his official padre badge, certificate and status from the Wing Chaplain before delivering his padre hour, which involved a fun game. Afterwards, we practically went on final parade.

For me, it was a fun night of food, photos and friends. Old cadets and staff coming back to wish me farewell and all the best, and new/er cadets happy for the party. :P
The highlights of my evening have to be seeing the old people come down, the hug from Mrs. Horobin, the card and chocolates from Deanna, the pound coin meant for my last tuck from Charlotte, and especially the present from Mrs Horobin, Laura and Luke. Of course, the flowers, hoodie and card from 425 too.

I have to say...tonight was probably one of my best nights at 425 and I loved it.

A fitting close for an old girl.

I could have done so much better, but I could have done a lot worse.

For four and a half years? It - was good.

Thank You, Lord, for the experience. Guide my future steps.

In Christ,
Mademoiselle Sian