Daddy and I went to the dedication of the new leader of our church yesterday. It was the sort of event you would have loved. Your Army family were out in force (a relatively large group of us went, after the 2 o'clock open air on Oxford Street), and the International Staff Songsters and the International Staff Band were there. You would have particularly enjoyed the Songsters, because we were sat right next to them, so you could have conducted their singing to your heart's content.
The entire event was broadcast live on the internet - it might still be there for you to watch one day. Aside from thinking about what you would have made of the day, General Bond's comments pose an interesting challenge to Daddy and I.
Having had our eyes opened (by our own direct experience) to the suffering that hundreds of thousands of families go through every year in the family courts, Daddy and I cannot close our eyes and our hearts to that suffering. Now that we have seen the injustice enacted daily; now that we have experienced the effects of it across the whole family; and now that we appreciate the long term consequences both for the individuals concerned and society as a whole, we cannot go back to the blissful ignorance we lived in before.
Daddy has faithfully and persistently sought to bring the plight of those hundreds of thousands of families to the attention of our leaders, so that we might look as an organisation to bring our ministry to the many people mired in despair, and being eaten up by hate in the midst of these family battles.
To our genuine surprise, Daddy's requests for meetings with those in leadership roles has been met with a determined resolve to remain blind to the issue. Those in authority have sought to use Daddy's individual case and their personal feelings about Daddy as grounds to ignore both the wider societal ill and the opportunity for ministry that God has offered.
What those trying to silence us haven't banked on is this: this is not a matter for the Army to choose whether it wishes to notice or not. Daddy and I know that we have been called to ministry - and to this particular ministry. Daddy and I are convinced that the Lord has exposed him to the heartache and distress of the last year so that we might see and understand the need, and so that we can do something about it.
We hoped the Army would be a mission partner. We have offered every opportunity. But the Army needs to know that we won't sit on our hands whilst it wakes up to the issue. If the Army isn't with us, we won't go away dejected: we will draw strength from the Lord and we will do it anyway.
General Bond yesterday said that the Army must listen to its soldiers. Her vision is of a Spirit-filled Army reaching out to bring the light and love of Jesus to the suffering in the world.
For the time being, the Army doesn't want to listen to its soldiers. It is determined to try to make the problem go away by adopting the playground technique of putting its fingers in its ears and pretending not to hear, supplemented by a bit of good old-fashioned name calling.
Daddy and I must draw on the rivers of living water and call in the promise that we will have strength and resources enough for the task.
Monday 18 April 2011
Wednesday 13 April 2011
Setting the date (2)
It was your Uncle and Aunty's wedding in Nottingham at the weekend. Daddy and I went, and we saw the rest of your family for the day, gathered from across the country. Your name was on the invitation - everyone wished you were there.
When you go to a wedding, there is always a little boy looking smart in a suit, but behaving in a way that shows that he is still, after all, only two years old. So we looked on whilst another little boy rolled down a grassy hill in his new suit and pulled funny "cheese" faces at the camera, thinking all the while what you would have made of it all if you had been there. You were all set with your suit - a suit was tried and tested Sunday best for you, and you knew you looked cute in it.
If Daddy and I thought that your Uncle's wedding was hard without you, we've got to steel ourselves for an even harder day yet. I wrote about setting the date for our wedding a little while ago. Well, now it's set, and the day is getting rather close.
We shall be very sad that you are not with us. We can't even send you your invitation without risking criminal harassment charges. Invitation or no invitation, you would be welcome and wanted, if by some miracle you could be there.
Daddy and I will most likely have to hope that pictures will tell the story for you when you're grown up.
Speaking of pictures, we have had some good news today on that score too. Daddy took his broken zoom lens in for repair and the nice folk at Canon fixed the switch, so it can now autofocus again. The Canon 5D SLR body I bought last year is in for repair with Canon too, after the mirror detatched when Daddy pressed the shutter during the speeches at your uncle's wedding. Luckily for us, Canon are doing the repair without charge because the fault is down to some dodgy adhesive used when the camera was built.
So by the beginning of next week all of the photographic kit should be back in working order, ready for service. We don't take nearly as many photographs as we used to when you were with us. We were like paparazzi at times, with you playing the diva celebrity, grinning into the camera, and demanding to take pictures of us.
In other good news, Daddy now has two keyrings. Yes, Daddy strikes again. The "lost" keys weren't lost after all. In fact, they never even left the house!
Love, K
When you go to a wedding, there is always a little boy looking smart in a suit, but behaving in a way that shows that he is still, after all, only two years old. So we looked on whilst another little boy rolled down a grassy hill in his new suit and pulled funny "cheese" faces at the camera, thinking all the while what you would have made of it all if you had been there. You were all set with your suit - a suit was tried and tested Sunday best for you, and you knew you looked cute in it.
If Daddy and I thought that your Uncle's wedding was hard without you, we've got to steel ourselves for an even harder day yet. I wrote about setting the date for our wedding a little while ago. Well, now it's set, and the day is getting rather close.
We shall be very sad that you are not with us. We can't even send you your invitation without risking criminal harassment charges. Invitation or no invitation, you would be welcome and wanted, if by some miracle you could be there.
Daddy and I will most likely have to hope that pictures will tell the story for you when you're grown up.
Speaking of pictures, we have had some good news today on that score too. Daddy took his broken zoom lens in for repair and the nice folk at Canon fixed the switch, so it can now autofocus again. The Canon 5D SLR body I bought last year is in for repair with Canon too, after the mirror detatched when Daddy pressed the shutter during the speeches at your uncle's wedding. Luckily for us, Canon are doing the repair without charge because the fault is down to some dodgy adhesive used when the camera was built.
So by the beginning of next week all of the photographic kit should be back in working order, ready for service. We don't take nearly as many photographs as we used to when you were with us. We were like paparazzi at times, with you playing the diva celebrity, grinning into the camera, and demanding to take pictures of us.
In other good news, Daddy now has two keyrings. Yes, Daddy strikes again. The "lost" keys weren't lost after all. In fact, they never even left the house!
Love, K
Tuesday 12 April 2011
And-a Red Rallye....mended!
We missed you on Sunday evening - we took the red rallye out for a little drive. We have got to be gentle with it for a couple of hundred miles because it's had a new engine and it needs running in. Nevertheless, it got hot enough to pop and splutter a little on the overrun, reminding us of happy days with you sat behind us in your seat cheering us on as we drove, with Charles the bear next to you wearing his seatbelt too:
"And-a Daddy Rallye goes errrrrrrrrrrr...POP!"
We will keep making some pops just for you.
Love
K
"And-a Daddy Rallye goes errrrrrrrrrrr...POP!"
We will keep making some pops just for you.
Love
K
Monday 11 April 2011
Lost and found
Daddy was very sad this week - he has lost his house keys, and with them the keyring you bought him last year. A keyring wouldn't normally be such a big deal - but it is one of the precious few things he has that come from you, and he was heartbroken.
I know it isn't the same as having the very keyring you gave him, but in your stead, I have been out and found an identical replacement for Daddy's keyring, which immediately went straight back onto his new bunch of housekeys.
You see, we are desperate not to lose our daily reminders of you. However little they are, there are things all over the house that you contributed. There are photos, in the hall and living room and in your bedroom, there are drawings you did stuck to the fridge, your room has all your things in it. In the kitchen is a broken "Heeland Coo" fridge magnet, which we bought you from our holiday to Scotland, and which got broken when it was dropped on the kitchen floor. Even though it is broken, it is yours. You dropped it, and you're not here to drop things any more.
In the living room is the little resin model Paddington Bear you chose with Daddy at Paddington Station on your last visit with us. It was bought with money given to you by a lady at our church when you were last there. She asked us to take you to buy something that you liked, and to keep it in a gesture of her faith in the Lord to bring us all back together at the right time.
So Mr Funny is back on Daddy's keys and Paddington Bear sits pride of place in the lounge. And we wait. We will wait as long as it takes.
Love,
K
I know it isn't the same as having the very keyring you gave him, but in your stead, I have been out and found an identical replacement for Daddy's keyring, which immediately went straight back onto his new bunch of housekeys.
You see, we are desperate not to lose our daily reminders of you. However little they are, there are things all over the house that you contributed. There are photos, in the hall and living room and in your bedroom, there are drawings you did stuck to the fridge, your room has all your things in it. In the kitchen is a broken "Heeland Coo" fridge magnet, which we bought you from our holiday to Scotland, and which got broken when it was dropped on the kitchen floor. Even though it is broken, it is yours. You dropped it, and you're not here to drop things any more.
In the living room is the little resin model Paddington Bear you chose with Daddy at Paddington Station on your last visit with us. It was bought with money given to you by a lady at our church when you were last there. She asked us to take you to buy something that you liked, and to keep it in a gesture of her faith in the Lord to bring us all back together at the right time.
So Mr Funny is back on Daddy's keys and Paddington Bear sits pride of place in the lounge. And we wait. We will wait as long as it takes.
Love,
K
Friday 1 April 2011
Missed you at Paddington today
Work took me out to Bristol today, on the 9.00 off Paddington. I arrived with about six minutes to spare for my train, but couldn't leave without visiting Paddington.
He looks quite a sad bear, all on his own during the morning rush hour. The commuters don't stop to say hello, or clamber over him to give him a hug, rub his shiny nose and pat him on the head. At that time in the morning, there wasn't even a swathe of people sat on his plinth drinking their coffee. He was all on his own.
I hope that you are ok, wherever you are.
Paddington, and Daddy and I miss you.
K xx
He looks quite a sad bear, all on his own during the morning rush hour. The commuters don't stop to say hello, or clamber over him to give him a hug, rub his shiny nose and pat him on the head. At that time in the morning, there wasn't even a swathe of people sat on his plinth drinking their coffee. He was all on his own.
I hope that you are ok, wherever you are.
Paddington, and Daddy and I miss you.
K xx
Friday 25 March 2011
Things we have been doing
In the last two weeks, we have been:
In all that time, not one word about how you are, and how you are getting on. Sadly, your maternal grandfather appears to think he's won a very noble victory by wrenching you away from your entire paternal family for three months, and shows every sign of being willing to "bury" (in his own words) Daddy and me if we keep trying to restore those relationships.
Daddy and I are struggling to know where or how we draw the line and say "enough is enough". Neither of us wants to give up on you - but just asking when you can see you Daddy got us both assaulted, and got Daddy served with an injunction this morning.
Faced with that Mummy's sustained, malevolent campaigning to keep you apart, with the full support of legally aided solicitors, where are we supposed to go next? We can't make the court battles stop, for as long as Mummy keeps bringing them. Daddy and I have long since run out of money to pay solicitors to help you. £45,000 disappeared that way, directly or indirectly, last year - far more than Daddy actually earned last year.
We are at the limits of endurance. There is no help to be had anywhere.
So, has nothing good happened? Well, Daddy ordered a model of 70013 Oliver Cromwell for you a long time ago, and it arrived this morning, about 2 hours after the bailiffs. It should have been a happy event, with Daddy excited about your next visit and playing with it together on the model railway. Instead, Daddy is heartbroken that you are not here to see it and play with it. Your model railway is very quiet these days.
We miss you, and it appears that there isn't a thing we can do about it.
- to the hospital, for Daddy to have some tests (unsuccessful - more tests required)
- to the estate agent, to try to get Mummy and Daddy's old house sold (unsuccessful, because Mummy hasn't signed the estate agents' contract that she's had for months)
- to the police in Crewe to report Daddy's red car stolen (police think it's unlikely to be recovered - probably already been scrapped illegally and turned into razor blades)
- to Coventry, to pick up a new engine for the little red car, because its own engine is not sounding at all healthy (success - we actually left with an engine, and we have found someone to fit it later this month)
- to Court in Derby (waste of time - no closer to getting anything sorted, and the next hearing is now going to be in Bristol)
- to the police in Derby to report being assaulted outside the court when Daddy asked Mummy when she would let him see you.
In all that time, not one word about how you are, and how you are getting on. Sadly, your maternal grandfather appears to think he's won a very noble victory by wrenching you away from your entire paternal family for three months, and shows every sign of being willing to "bury" (in his own words) Daddy and me if we keep trying to restore those relationships.
Daddy and I are struggling to know where or how we draw the line and say "enough is enough". Neither of us wants to give up on you - but just asking when you can see you Daddy got us both assaulted, and got Daddy served with an injunction this morning.
Faced with that Mummy's sustained, malevolent campaigning to keep you apart, with the full support of legally aided solicitors, where are we supposed to go next? We can't make the court battles stop, for as long as Mummy keeps bringing them. Daddy and I have long since run out of money to pay solicitors to help you. £45,000 disappeared that way, directly or indirectly, last year - far more than Daddy actually earned last year.
We are at the limits of endurance. There is no help to be had anywhere.
So, has nothing good happened? Well, Daddy ordered a model of 70013 Oliver Cromwell for you a long time ago, and it arrived this morning, about 2 hours after the bailiffs. It should have been a happy event, with Daddy excited about your next visit and playing with it together on the model railway. Instead, Daddy is heartbroken that you are not here to see it and play with it. Your model railway is very quiet these days.
We miss you, and it appears that there isn't a thing we can do about it.
Thursday 3 March 2011
Daily ways to miss you (1)
Daddy and I miss you daily - that really goes without saying. I bet you don't realise though, how big an impact you have on us. We can't have a conversation without using one of your catch-phrases. Whenever we catch ourselves doing it, it's a moment both of joy and sadness.
Our particular favourites:
"Yeah...'k" - You started saying this at around 19 months. You only used it for about two weeks, but it stuck, and now it's with us every day. "Would you like a drink Daddy?" "Yeah...k!" comes the reply.
"Check-a some emails" - a cracker from the day you opened your "laptop" for "Christmas". Before you said that, we didn't even know that you knew what emails were. But there you were, waiting patiently while we tried to get your dinosaur puppets out of their box, when suddenly you announced you were going to "jus' check-a some emails". Priceless.
"Bu..bye...BLACK...Rallye in a garage" - we now say this EVERY single time we pass the garage, just as you used to.
Joy surrounds those phrases as we recall the days when the catchphrases were created. Happier days when you spent time with us.
Sadness - immeasurable sadness that we no longer get to see and hear YOU saying them. We remember your catch-phrases and I can write them down, but we miss hearing your voice. We have been watching the videos we have of you over 2010 - your voice has grown and changed so much in those 12 months, we wonder how many new words you know, and how much more fluent your speech has become in the last 12 weeks when we haven't seen you.
We miss you.
K
Our particular favourites:
"Yeah...'k" - You started saying this at around 19 months. You only used it for about two weeks, but it stuck, and now it's with us every day. "Would you like a drink Daddy?" "Yeah...k!" comes the reply.
"Check-a some emails" - a cracker from the day you opened your "laptop" for "Christmas". Before you said that, we didn't even know that you knew what emails were. But there you were, waiting patiently while we tried to get your dinosaur puppets out of their box, when suddenly you announced you were going to "jus' check-a some emails". Priceless.
"Bu..bye...BLACK...Rallye in a garage" - we now say this EVERY single time we pass the garage, just as you used to.
Joy surrounds those phrases as we recall the days when the catchphrases were created. Happier days when you spent time with us.
Sadness - immeasurable sadness that we no longer get to see and hear YOU saying them. We remember your catch-phrases and I can write them down, but we miss hearing your voice. We have been watching the videos we have of you over 2010 - your voice has grown and changed so much in those 12 months, we wonder how many new words you know, and how much more fluent your speech has become in the last 12 weeks when we haven't seen you.
We miss you.
K
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