Monthly Archives: February 2016

Sharing the Love

Have you ever seen the UK TV series “Call the Midwife”? (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0118t80) If so you may remember the episode when our favourite midwife, Chummy (played by the wonderful Miranda Hart http://mirandahart.com) was desperately poorly after having given birth to her own precious baby.  The nuns, through their love and concern for her, crocheted a beautiful blanket over which they prayed silent prayers of healing within every square.  Upon completion, they tenderly laid the prayer blanket over Chummy as she lay close to death and sat alongside her through the darkest of nights. Those prayers were heard and answered and Chummy survived much to joy of her adoring fans.

Chummy and her blanket
Chummy and her blanket

This episode aired during the time I was waiting for my transplant and getting increasingly worse. I was so moved by what I saw.  The idea of being literally covered in a blanket of prayer was an incredibly powerful image and spoke straight to my aching heart and soul. “Absolutely loved Chummy’s blanket!” I wrote on Facebook. Just that, a throwaway line or so I believed at the time. But unbeknown to me, my lovely friend Stephanie, picked up on it and decided to act. She contacted church friends who could crochet and knit and asked them to make squares so that I too could have my very own prayer blanket.  I was totally unaware (and it takes a lot to get past me!) until I was presented with a beautiful blanket at our Easter Sunday service in 2013 (Blimey, almost 3 years ago! Where does time go?) And it was huge! Word had spread and not just my friends, but complete strangers had contributed. Adding their own prayers for healing, blessings, peace, love for me and for my family. I was completely overwhelmed and almost , but not quite, speechless. (Speechless, in hindsight wouldn’t have been a bad thing as I gushed out some kind of  words of thanks that would have rivalled a Kate Winslet Oscar speech)

That beautiful prayer blanket, made by beautiful people, has been in daily use in our home since.  On the days I was too ill to move, it cocoonned me, surrounding me with God’s love and promises and hope. My boys and even our dogs have chosen to rest on it or under it and whilst I was in surgery for 13 hours having my transplant, Colin slept under it whilst waiting for the call from the hospital to say all had gone well. A powerful gift, truly treasured.

And the story doesn’t end there, it grows, it gets bigger. It has become a ministry within our church. Stephanie started to receive requests from people wanting a blanket for their loved ones and many more blankets have now been made and handed out to people who are sick, dying or in need of comfort. Made by incredible people, with incredible hearts, using creative ways to reflect and share the love and heart of an incredible God.

Kind of apt to share this on Valentine’s Day, don’t you think?

It's huge!
My blanket. It’s huge!

Posted from Radcliffe, England, United Kingdom.

The Darkest Day

I was born in the North West of England which invariably gave me the right to claim the “great Northern sense of humour” that this part of the world is renowned for. It has come in handy, proved itself to be both necessary and useful. Myself and siblings didn’t have a great childhood (that’s for telling another day – maybe) but boy did we laugh! We became masters, turning sadness and tragedy into humorous accounts – pure comedy gold.
When I was diagnosed with IPF and given 3 years to live, I knew I had a choice; did I want to spend my time asking why me, sitting in a corner crying, or did I want to finish my life well, to continue to smile and to joke? I chose the latter – it was in my Northern blood.
And by the grace of God for most of the time during my illness I was able to do that. But one day, back in May 2013, it all became too much. I didn’t want to die. I loved life, I had dreams and plans that death was threatening to snatch from me. I was frightened. I call it my Darkest Day and wrote:

“Today is a bad day.
A day when I am feeling overwhelmed by this illness, by the absurdity of having a disease that is rare, incurable, an illness that is more common in men over sixty – a fact which normally makes me smile but on a bad day, this day just makes me wonder how? why?
Today is a day when the burden feels too heavy to carry.
We say God never gives us more than we can cope with but today I know he has me mixed up with someone else. I am not the person He thinks I am. I am tiny, I am weak. Today is a day I cannot do this.
Today is a day when I lose sight of hope, when I strain to hear the words, ‘everything will be ok’ and am met with silence.
Today is a day that I am lost in the tunnel, I cannot see the light at the end. Today is a dark day.
Today is a day that I stare too long into the faces of my boys, soaking in their smiles, their eyes, listen to their laughter and silently scream please don’t take me from them, let me stay. Today is a day that I beg.
Today is a day when the tears come too quickly.
Today is a sad day.”

My boys. The reason I fought so hard to keep breathing.
My boys. The reason I fought so hard to keep breathing.