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! :)

Thursday, January 24, 2013

I'm a Jug of Cream

Weird statement. ;) But it's true.

I wrote a status earlier saying not to make me one of your close friends, unless you're my daughter.

I can't have close friends. The closest I get are friendships where I lean completely on them and they don't need me at all, or where they lean on me and I can't share with them because it would wreak havoc with them.

People have this mind concept that if you share with them, they must instantly start looking after you and bottling themselves up. I do not agree with that system, but I currently buy into it because I can't find another way out.

Plus, and don't get all weepy eyed or sneery over this, I'm used to my friendship being treated casually. People are happy if I'm there and not particularly bothered if I'm not. They move on, life moves on, oh dear she's not there any more, sad-happy memories, bye bye.

If people take a step anywhere near to my heart, I clam up. I'm brilliant at small talk, chit-chat and repartee. I'm good at sharing my heart on one-offs and listening to theirs and perhaps praying with them.

Spending time with them? Socialising? No. I've come to the point where not only do I not go out with people (never have done - parties and nightclubs aren't my thing) but my chats are minimising. And that's cause I don't pursue relationships. I'm friends with many. But 99% of those are casual.
Because there's one thing I've learned. If I don't pursue people, they don't pursue me. And that makes the friendship casual.

One of my friends said to me once that it works both ways. It's true; it does. But with the wide and infrequent group of people I talk with, and with the amount of close friends or guys that have walked into my life, trashed everything they've seen and walked out, how does one know where to move?

I was chatting with the lovely Anna P earlier - a friend from OYAN. She's an amazing girl with deep eyes and a heart to love. And part of our conversation is why I'm blogging this.

There was a story I read once. It was...called The Hawk and the Dove. I think...by Penelope Wilcox.

About a mother who told these stories about these amazing monks - in particular, one called Father Peregrine, to her daughter Melissa. He'd sinned with his betrothed before he became a monk. And she was with child but he didn't know. And he was Melissa's ancestor.
He was quite proud...and distant..and then God broke him.

Sian: I read the book over and over.
Anna: Why do you love it so much?

These enemies of his father found him alone and unprotected one day in the church
And they beat him up so badly. He was crippled with useless broken hands for the rest of his life. He always limped, and had a face full of scars. And he learned to love. To accept help.

Sian: Maybe that's why I like it. :P
Anna: What do you mean?
Sian: I'm suddenly seeing a lot of me in there. XD

Anyway... not long after the incident, one of the monks, Brother Thomas, came in and found him sitting there, staring into space, just repeating a movement of his hand across his chin, over and over.

And he thought suddenly of his mother. His mother was a farmer's wife and she did the milking every morning. He remembered how, when she'd separated the cream, she would carry the jug, so, so carefully, because it was brimming...and just one tiny jolt....and it would spill.

Brother Thomas came into the room, to his unapproachable abbot, pulled the desk aside, and wrapped his arms around his stiff shoulders and held him close.
Father Peregrine lay there like a stone for a few minutes, and Brother Thomas began to feel like an idiot, this big, hearty farmer's boy.

But then Father Peregrine began to cry. And he sobbed. And he sobbed. And he repeated, my hands, my hands, over and over. He cried into Vespers.
And Brother Thomas held him.
Finally he sat up, wiped his eyes and sent Brother Thomas to Vespers.
And asked him not to tell, and thanked him.

But that was the day he began to heal. Not outside. but inside. When he knew someone loved him beyond being afraid of him. Enough to hold him while he cried.

Brother Thomas never told a soul while he lived. But passed it down after his death.

I feel like the jug. :D And that's why I don't know. Because I can't pluck a random thought out of a mass of teeming emotion I'm barely keeping down. I'm sitting here watching Doctor Who and nearly crying at some points, like the look in Rose's eyes when she's begging the Doctor to find her, which is ridiculous. I don't cry. Except on an emotional day.

And all the bad memories and shame and mixed emotions brimming on the surface.


So don't poke. But please don't back off. Just stay where you are like you never read this.

Because I hate people making a fuss of me when I'm depressed. When I'm happy, I realise how few people stay around. :P

Sorry...

~Sian

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Letting Go Without Giving Up

A day. It's an incredible short space of time. I paused for three seconds just and listened to the clock tick them. Three seconds of my life.

Gone.

Isn't it so short a span of time?

Faith. Hope. Trust.

Three things that God is trying to teach me and I am struggling with so greatly. Stop and read those words individually for a moment and think about what each of them means.

We tend to bind the three of them together so easily. Think about the end of 1 Corinthians 13 - faith, hope, love, abide these three - but the greatest of these is love.

Do you stop to separate the meanings of them out? I fail to, very often. But faith; hope; trust. Bound together by love.

Love is the greatest of all.

Notice, when one of them fails, the others weaken. Interesting.


The last two weeks have been a haze of pain for me. I go through a couple of days (on a usual cycle) where I rotate through riding on faith, hope and prayer and preaching it, to allowing things to smash through the shield - and believe me, they come through the oddest of means - and nosediving in despair when nothing changes.

Keifer compared me once to a wave - I'm constantly cresting and crashing. :P

A couple of little, normal things happened, which while they hurt when I'm riding on the crest - faith and prayer - I can usually give to God and let go on, refusing to deal with the confusion it induces in my mind.
Plus all of my mentors suddenly went busy - one has backed off for two months now, three are very busy in their day-to-day lives, and one's email system packed in. Plus another one vanished for a few days - probably due to my DND button.

Without talking to them for about three days or so (see what a chicken I am?) I closed down on my feelings, which also has the brilliant (not!) side effect of stopping my thoughts, making me feel physical pain and surface thoughts only. I hang on and surf through the days, literally living from day to day. I can't think about the future - because it's too painful to see.

I used to chase them up, but currently I can't be bothered to - and since one relationship's altered (the one I turn to most), it makes me afraid to face the rest. Probably because of pain - the thing I embrace but fear the most.

Three of them, unknowing, pounced on me the day I stopped feeling. I didn't mean to be rude (although I probably was; so, sorry :S) but I literally had nothing to say, and probably still don't.

Over the last two days, an email from my mentor and current "spiritual head", Jay Lauser, and a chat or two set me praying. Crying. Hard.

I hate crying. When I cry, and it isn't at all often. The sobs shake me like nothing I've ever known. The tears soak my face and hands within a matter of seconds. It brings little to no relief. No answers to my anguished prayers. And they end within a few seconds.

But then you sit on the floor. And look up. And ask a simple anguished question like a helpless child.

All problems come down to one or two nitty-gritty points. Or questions. Get to the heart of them, like a kid. And ask.

I've answered the email with prayer and tears. The alternative it offers is not one I want to have. The anguish comes with realising that logically it is the best alternative. And probably better than what I desire.

And knowing that I can no longer pull any weights, kick any walls. I cannot move. One. Iota. To get the one thing in life I truly desire.

Then it all comes down to what I do truly desire.

Because yes. I desperately want to be loved. To have one secure thing in a world of instability that I know I can turn to, to have one stable person consistently pointing me back to Christ when I'm too frightened and blinded to go there, to help me start the life I've heard of and dreamed of but never lived.
No one could know what that kind of stability means to a girl except a girl who lacks male authority and influence in her life; and I'm too old now to accept that off anyone who demands it. It only comes through choice.

But when what I desire conflicts with what He desires - what then? It's all well and good to tell me that God has a Will for my life but I have to live my life and His Will is that because He already knows it. No. Emphatically no. Our hearts make too many choices over Him for me to ever believe that is possible. The way to find His Will is by seeking Him wholeheartedly through His Word and prayer - constant intimate interaction with Him.

I've played all my cards. I've waited. I've fought. I've chosen. And I've made so many, many bad errors. *blinks back tears*

And I don't know any more. I know He gave me love. I know He has not asked for it back. But I'm no longer pro-actively pursuing it. It's in His Hands.

In the meantime, I live life as I am now - day to day. I sit and watch the clock tick the seconds of my life away and pray that somehow He will use them. This is His Choice. His move. I'm stopping fighting.

There's a difference in giving up and surrendering. Giving up means you throw everything away into the darkness and sit down in despair. Surrender means to give it into the Victor's Hands.

And where else could it be safer? :)

Not my will, but Thine, oh Lord, be done.

~Mademoiselle Siân

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Curveball January

It's eight impossibly quick days into January.

The first I spent travelling up from London.
The second I fell down the stairs, nearly fainted, threw up and ended up down A&E/ER, spending the rest of the day in bed, and Mom nearly had a car accident.
The rest of the days have been working or housecleaning and trying to do online stuff.

The 9th and the 10th are hospital appointments - both my sister and I are having an ECG.
The 15th is my parents' first divorce hearing in court to settle the finances.

February/March I should hear back from Britain's Got Talent.

Two things have been torn away to the point where I'm seriously considering future association with them - the Air Training Corps and OYAN.

I'm growing stronger and more confident. I can feel it within myself and am slightly uncertain and a little fearful how to take it - as usually this comes before a huge storm.

I've finally, four years too late, decided which career paths I'm interested in, for now - gardening, cabin crew and law (more secretary role).

I've learned I need to focus on daily surrender of individual things, gifts, people and situations to God.

And I'm realising I have to let go of heartaches for old and gone friendships with old and soon-vanishing-out-of-my-life people. And move on with the people I have.

I'm organising my life to take a phone call from my sister Sarah on Monday, visit my brother Joseph on Tuesdays and Thursdays, visit my sister Samantha on Wednesdays, visit my brother Simon and family once a month, my uncle and aunt once a month, and hopefully take my nephew Jamie out for a weekend every month or two months.

Things are becoming clearer. Pain is focusing into certain areas and I'm learning to grieve in certain situations - although I still cry randomly at things I haven't figured out yet.

My autobiography is growing and I'm hoping and praying that as soon as I have things written down, the more I can put to rest.

I'm a writer, yes, but that seems to be more forming around my blog and my autobiography. Was I born to write that only? Maybe. It's worth it.

I'm praying hard for an answer to prayer that, in either answer, will definitely curve my life to one path or another.

I don't think it's the end of the curveballs. But I'm pretty sure that the close people now - Kristin, Jay, Mother, Mama Lauser, Keifer and Brendan (perhaps) and hopefully Kyle - won't be leaving any time soon.

And I'm pretty sure that this tapestry is still under construction. I might be looking at the knots, but He's looking at the finished picture.

HelpStopSuicide -ust posted this on Twitter - To believe something you cannot see, you must believe it is worth seeing.

Reminds me of my new favourite song by John Waller:
Faith is the evidence of things I cannot see.
And faith is the confidence that You are holding me.
Stepping out, breaking through
All my doubts and all I thought I knew.
Yes, you've never lived until you've lived
You've never lived until you've lived by faith.

Praying to grow,
~Mademoiselle Siân

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Broken Snowline

Imagine - I don't care whether you're the imagining type or not, close your eyes and imagine here :D - imagine you're on the edge of a dark forest, looking out across a field of fresh snow.

The sun is about to rise, and as the first few glints bounce off the ground, you see that the snow is completely white, pure, unbroken. It looks. Totally. Stunning.

Purity does. :)

There's no way home except to cross that field. But as you look down at your feet, you realise that there's a mess of gunk and black stuff and mud and slime covering your wellies, from walking through the forest. But you're a snow lover and you really don't want to spoil that snow.

Cautiously, you step to a nearby stream of crystal clear, flowing water and one at a time, take each boot off and wash it.

Cause after all, you've only got two choices. To trail the gunk of the forest into the pure clean unmarked snow, or to walk out with fresh clean steps.

It's called a New Year, and the difference is walking into it carrying on with the weight and burdens of the past one, or with letting go, taking the Lord's Hand and trying to start afresh.

Which is terribly tiring, I admit.

But there's definitely something to the phrase "walking in faith and victory". It doesn't mean you've conquered every encumbrance. But it does mean that you can lift your head up, get up when you've fallen and travel on in the hope that a brighter day is coming when you'll win out, or God will win out, over this thing.


Christmas and January.

I've always anticipated them with almost a childish delight. :) The beauty of Christmas where you can walk past a perfect stranger on the street, smile and say Happy Christmas! and they respond in kind.
The joy of a New Year when it lies filled with shadows and mystery and adventure and a fresh unbroken joy to be lived and fulfilled.

Apart from the last two Januarys.

January 2011 was when my mom found my dad looking at pornography - the start to a long and painful divorce process. It was also the month Mr. C (by pure accident, believe me) found out that I loved him.

January 2012 was when I regained one of my old best friends as a friend after a year and three months on an I-can't-be-close-because-of-emotional-purity stint (which meant a year of trying to rebuild that friendship with a very mistrusting me) and also the month my best friend (like, the one guy I completely trusted) flew out to Florida and was arrested on arrival (later sentenced to five years imprisonment), destroying (in human terms) all chance of his earthly happiness and leaving him to God.

I can't really say I'm looking at the next 31 days with any particular excitement. Or, haven't been.
I've learned to be afraid of the shadows, to dread the adventure, to cower from the mystery in fear of the pain.

*chuckles slightly*
God's given me two new girls to look after/try to help recently. As most of you know, that's what I believe God has called me to do; whether full time in the future or as a side thing like now, it's what He's called me for.

They both deal with the issue I've dealt with most - selfharm. One is ready to deal with it, one isn't. Both require love and attention and being listened to.

When trying to assist a cutter who wants to stop, guide as much as possible so you're putting stability into their (often broken) lives, but also make sure you're giving them as many options as possible. They need to feel that they are in control and are stopping.
Suggest things and tell them, it's up to you, and, only if you're comfortable with it. It helps provide security, a comfort zone & no walls. If they really want you to make the decision for them, do so, but go easy on it and don't be unwilling to change if possible.

As usual, there are things in common with both of them that usually are in common with people who selfharm - broken families, and belief - backed up by the voices or actions of people around them - that they are ugly, useless or worthless.

As such, I've (invented? maybe?) tried to get one of my girls and one of my daughters working on the Beauty Project.
Basically, we've got one week to look up beauty in a concordance and see what God has to say on us. And we're doing a report for next Saturday/Sunday.

God's amazing, working on me working with these girls. *laughs* I'm going to have to believe I'm beautiful because if I don't, my girls will not believe it!
Why?
If you teach something you do not believe, you are not only refusing to practice what you preach, and are being a hypocrite, but you are also instilling doubt into their mind because you're contradicting what you're teaching them.
For example, if my girls tell me they're ugly and that's why they selfharm, and I tell them they're beautiful in the eyes of God, and then they see me post in response to a compliment, I'm really not pretty, or, you're prejudiced, what will they think?


The second thing He's shown me that is going to be a pretty painful path to walk this year, is my lack of love.
*rubs hand over forehead and laughs at your faces* Yes...lack of love.

It's easy to love someone who is more than likely going to love you, or even if they reject you, is fascinated enough by your loving them to keep coming back.

It's very hard to love someone who hurts you at every turn, every time you leave yourself vulnerable, or every time you're hurting and they hurt you further.

But God did it. And so must I, in His strength alone and with His help.

It's not to love the unloveable. That's not so hard for me.
It's loving the unloving.

So grow in grace.
Grow in knowledge.
And grow in our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

Wash your sins and burdens of last year in the Stream of Living Water.
Take His Hand.

And start making fresh tracks.

Love you!

~Mademoiselle Siân