Mushroom City!

Home of the Mushroom People!!

I went walking in the woods again.  Most of the fruits, seeds and berries are gone by now, but everywhere there are mushrooms.  Massive massive mushrooms of infinite variety, in clusters and standing on their own like miniature trees.  I know better than to touch any of them, but I took lots of pictures and have been having fun trying to identify them.

The Problem of Pain

Street Pastors again.  Tonight made more sense to me, I got to go out with some of the guys I trained with, which was fun, and despite some spitty rain the night had a really good vibe to it.  We met a lot of people; Sylvia the Big Issue Lady was out as usual, selling roses, some groups of lads who thanked us for being there, and some girls who were stunned by the fact we were giving away flipflops for free.  Oh, and check out our new stash.  It's a bit swish and very warm due to the big fat fleecey layer on the inside.

And one lady, who is now engraved in my brain.  We bumped into her when the lads we were talking to started involving her in the conversation and told her who we were.  She muttered something about Christians being fake to her friend, then looked at us, straight-mouthed, and said "Okay, I'm going to ask this to all of you and see if you all answer the same.  I've had eight miscarriages."  My demeanor changed instantly, blocking out the lads round us.  It was time to be serious.  "I've got six kids, but I've had eight miscarriages.  So tell me, what kind of a God does that?"
"Yeah," one of the boys chipped in, "how come pedophiles and murderers can have families, but good people always die."

What do you say when faced with a question like that?  This is the kind of problem that has been a major sticking point about the idea of God with a lot of people since it first came up; why do bad things happen?  C.S. Lewis wrote a book about it, The Problem of Pain, after the death of his wife.
I know many women who have suffered miscarriages, my mother is one of them, and even the idea of it is awful to contemplate.  In my life so far there has been and is an answer to pain, and God is it, but it's not something you can explain to someone.  Rather it's something a person has to experience themselves, a journey they take on their own, and the reason for this is that it's so intensely personal.  No one, however much they might want to, can feel another person's pain, can understand it fully, or can heal it for them.  It's a long conversation, often a fight, between man and God to try and make sense of the world again.

So here I am, faced with this woman who is clearly hurting very badly, and I know that nothing I can say is going to fix this for her.  In fact all I can think of are things I very badly want not to say:
1)  I don't want to try to tell her that it will get better eventually, or about these women I know who have come through miscarriages (one couple, six of them) closer to God than ever.
2)  I don't want to patronise her with meaningless platitudes about how good God is when right now she probably hates his guts.  That would most likely just make things worse.
3)  It's probably not the right time to point out that miscarriages aren't just a smiting, there are often numerous and complex reasons for them including genetics, biology and her own life choices.  How much more insensitive could you get?

Worst of all, with all these lads around us yelling and cutting in, even if I had the time this isn't the place, not for something this delicate.  What can I do?
"It must be so hard," I said seriously, trying to keep eye contact with this boys jumping around everywhere.  "I'm so sorry."
She asks me essentially the same thing again, and I reply the same, adding that it's not really something I can explain for her.  The lad from before chips in again.
"Is it maybe to inspire the rest of us to try and be better, or to make us appreciate life?"
I said "Maybe."

I'm getting a bit of this at the moment from various places.  People have troubles in their lives from day-to-day, I have troubles (somewhat smaller just now, thankfully) in my own, the Pope is visiting which is making a lot of people cross and they want to tell me so (although I didn't invite him!  I'm not entirely keen on it either), I recently saw a televised debate on the Catholic church and whether or not it's a Force for Good.  (Anne Widdecombe says it is -she is always fun to watch and I like her hard-headedness in debate- and Stephen Fry says it isn't -he made an excellent arguement and I have a lot of time for his opinions- I found Hitchens a bit arrogant and Onaiyekan a bit simple, bar his closing statement, and the outcome should give everyone a lot to think about) 
Additionally my housemate is reading the God Delusion (which I do not think is watertight from the section I've read) and I want to borrow it from her when she's done and go through it properly myself, but I am not a fan of Dawkins; not because of his atheism but because I find him to be antagonistic and a whinger (sorry, Richard, but I do). 
All in all, a lot of people seem to be telling me how rubbish Christianity/Christians are lately, and how rubbish various churches are, and not many of them are being polite about it.  And I'm not sure they're all wrong either.

I'm one of those people who tries to see the good in things, even if there's not much there to start with.  It's not blind faith, I made sure of that, but I started considering that side of things because I want to live with a certain attitude to the world around me.  It's what gives me my underlying joy about life, but it doesn't mean I'm blind to problems.  There are a lot of them.  Everywhere.  Yes, in the church, in this town, in me.  Maybe because I make so many mistakes myself I can appreciate how easy it is to let fear of reprisals and people's opinions stop even large organisations from doing the right thing, but that doesn't change their actions.On the news I see nothing but problems, many that I cannot fix except to be indignant and angry on behalf of people I've never even met, which does them little help. 

My instinct is to defend the good and try and bring it out, but sometimes there is nothing to defend.  Because when someone is angry about molested children and the institutionalised denial of it, there is nothing you can say.  And when a religion loses it's heart to putting human beings in a hierarchy and the practise of mere tradition, there is nothing you can say.  And when a hurting woman mourns her unborn children there is nothing you can say.  When they shout at you and insult the God you love because they feel wronged by his people there is nothing you can say.  You represent the institution of the international Church in their eyes, and God, and every other Christian on the planet.  For just a few seconds you are all of these people, and you must answer for all of them.
Sometimes you shouldn't say anything.  You shouldn't defend and you shouldn't fight for it.  Because it is bad, and you can't make it better with words.
Sometimes you should just acknowledge the problem, let them hate you, and shut up.

The woman berates us a bit more. I nod and don't smile, and I tell her "It must be awful. I'm so sorry."  When she left she seemed less angry, but I don't really know.

Another day in paradise

Street pastors was a challenge this week.  Sometimes you turn up really excited to see God do stuff, some days you're a bit more nervous ("What can I possibly bring to the table?") and then sometimes, like this week, you suffer from a little streak of arrogance.  ("Yes!  I will go out this evening and do some good!  My presence is clearly important to the success of tonight!"  Or something like that.)  But God, in all his great wisdom immediately says "Oh no you don't, you cut that out right now.  Deflate that big head of yours; don't you forget who's really running this outfit."

So I went out, maybe feeling a little more puffed-up than I really should have, and met the following people:

1)  Two homeless guys that work as a double act, sitting in a shop entrance with a board propped up as a wind-breaker and blankets round them.  Hedley bought them a cheesburger and chatted with them for a while -me and Steve were on the other side of the street at the time.  Now we're heading into autumn there's a definite chill at night and it's only going to get worse.  These two hang out together for company and one of them writes poetry.  He recited a couple of verses to them about his life which were apparently pretty good.  It's easy to forget that just because someone's time is taken up surviving, they still have an urge to express themselves, to create things.  They just don't have the outlet.

2)  A 50-something year old Romanian woman.  I see her a lot selling the Big Issue on the street and we never do more than the usual "How much is that?"  "Thank you" exchange, but this night was really quiet so we stopped to chat with her.  Turns out she, her husband, and her five kids (4 girls, 1 boy) came over here from Romania 3 years ago looking for work because they couldn't find any at home.  Her kids are all grown up now and they and the husband work washing cars in Tesco's car park.  She and the daughter sell the Big Issue during the day but at night, when they're all sleeping at home, she comes out and wanders round the town centre, selling roses to couples on a night out.  They all share a house, up past Tesco's, but no one who sells Big Issue is especially wealthy or can get a different job.  And yet when she said she went to a church and we said so did we, she immediately started telling us how good God was to her.  That she prayed all the time, that he made her happy.

3)  A guy sitting outside MacDonalds, watching people walk past very quietly.   We asked him if he was okay, and he asked if we were Christians.  When we nodded he immediately started talking about his life without any prompting at all. 
His name was Darren and he was a soldier, recently in Iraq.  He was back in England on sick leave after being shot- he pulled up his shirt and showed us the six-inch scar left across his stomach.  We asked him what he was doing sitting out there and he said he was just watching life, trying to get his head around it.  Since coming back he was finding it very difficult to integrate back into the life he'd had before.  Watching everyone walk past on a night out, drinking and getting in fights, he said everyone just seemed so selfish.  All they thought about was themselves when there were men out there dying, and how could they do that?  They would squabble over the tiniest things and get in fights over nothing, when he had seen people shot on their behalf and they didn't even care, weren't even aware of it.  Ever since he came back he'd been given a really hard time by people who said he shouldn't have gone out, he'd had counselling but it hadn't done any good since the counsellor really had no idea what he'd been through.  His partner had left him and he didn't see his two kids much any more, and he'd taken to drinking.  Although Darren had hope that in the future when he had healed he would be able to turn his life around, what he had seen and done on his tour of duty had fundamentally changed him, as it does a lot of soldiers, and speaking to him in person was a very strange experience.
These men are simply following the orders they have been given.  That is their job, and a job that most of us would never consider doing -could never even attempt.  They risk their lives, away from home and family, in conditions none of us would put up with, and many of them return home both physically, emotionally and psychologically damaged.  We take our freedom so much for granted in this country.  Whether or not we agree with the leaders that sent them out there, surely the least we owe people in that kind of situation is sympathy and compassion, because a lot of them have dealt with things that we never will.

4)  At the end of the night there was a ruckass when a guy was apparently seen hitting his girlfriend on the street.  She was pretty hysterical but also a bit drunk so there is no way of knowing whether he really did or she intigated it, but there was running and yelling and threats.  Steve told the police TV crew what was going on, and eventually they reported back that the two had got in a taxi together, having sorted out the worst of it.  Of course, as Street Pastors we are not the police, and if things had got nastier I don't know what we would have done.  Of course we have a duty to the rest of our team to try and keep ourselves out of harm's way, we certainly aren't bouncers, but it's very difficult (for me anyway) to stand there and hear a big fight like that, and not be able to do anything to help.

All in all it was a very humbling night, and a confusing one.  Mainly because I was faced with so many situations that really I could do nothing to help.  I can't home those two guys, I can't improve that woman's financial situation, I can't solve domestics and I definitely can't do much for men like Darren.  It was like I'd had the carpet pulled out from under me, and I went home asking God "So what am I doing this for?  What is the point of me going out there at all when there are so many different kinds of people struggling and suffering in so many different ways, and I can't change any of them.  Is this all just a pipe dream?  I don't understand."

I had to wait until Sunday for an answer, when we were singing some worship.  It's funny how half an hour focussing on God's goodness shrinks all the other problems you thought you had, but I still had all this at the back of my mind.  Then the chorus to a song came round:
Our God saves.  Our God saves
There is hope in your name
Mourning turns to songs of praise
Our God saves, our God saves
and it hit me.  God saves.  There is hope in him.  The Romanian woman had spoken about it, even Darren had mentioned it; that the knowledge of God brings hope, and hope is the source of life and joy in difficult circumstances.  Where God is, wherever God is, and despite people's struggles, they still have this sense of something better beyond themselves.  And he does save.  He is the one that brings that woman joy, and he is the one that cam heal men of their scars.
It very much put me in my place, and reminded me of how much I still have to learn about the world, but I went out that afternoon praising God for his goodness to us, which is exactly as it should be.

Oh dear...

I was listening to a track from James Cameron's Avatar on Youtube (I'm a bit meh about the actual film, but the soundtrack is great) and browsing through the comments when I came across a fantastic one. 

People have lots of ideas as to what Avatar is really about; is it Pocahontas in disguise?  Is it a comment on the Iraq war?  America's expolitative tendencies?  The suppression of native people groups in third world countries?  It's definitely got something to do with respecting the cultures of other people and not screwing them over simply because you have a bloated ego and superior weaponry.

But someone on Youtube seems to have a slightly different idea as to what it was about.  This is probably the most accidentally insulting thing anyone probably could have said, and as such I find it very funny:

"megaminer101
3 weeks ago 12
james cameron is sending a message we are killing the animals and taking what we want. im on his side we are greedy we are taking what we want we are killing the animals thumbs up if you want to help the world "

We are killing...  the animals.  The Animals.  Oh my gosh...
Not another race of people (albeit blue people), whose lives have equal value to ours and whose way of life should be respected and preserved but... the animals.

*sigh*
I despair of mankind sometimes, I really do :)

Today is a day of marvellous wonders!!

Most days are, but today especially.  I shall list the reasons for this, now:

1)  JobSeekers Allowance meeting was this morning.  I can breathe a sigh of relief for another two weeks.  It's not that I don't look for work, but I always worry I'll fill the form in wrong!  Yes I am a paranoid little android.

2) I finally got my pictures framed!  I eventually gave in and bought a sketch from the incomparable Rima Staines, owner of  The Hermitage.  Her artwork and sense of storytelling always blows me away, so I bought this little trinket, entitled, 'There's a Stair in Her Hair'.  It's less finished than most of her work which tends to have layers of texture and colour painted onto it ( and which I intend to go back for once I have the money!) but I love the dreamlike quality of it.  My print arrived within the week and sat proudly on my desk until I could find a nice wooden frame for it.  But also in the envelope was a little postcard; two figures cunningly hidden in a wash of watercolour, and I liked it so much that I decided to frame that too!  Fortunately I had an empty frame I bought from a friend just standing by, so with a little bit of trimming the two fit perfectly.  Here they both are on my desk, although the photo doesn't do either of them justice.

Sitting behind them is Jeremy, my pet rosemary plant.  Which leads me onto Number 3

3)  I have a rosemary plant!  I wanted one for ages because I love the smell, and fresh rosemary is so much nicer than buying it from the supermarket, and now I have one.  His name is Jeremy (yes I named him) and he lives on my desk.  I tried to grow some from seeds but they didn't come up for such a long time I thought I had killed them, maybe through over- or under-watering, but I'd been so careful, I just couldn't figure it out.  BUT I DIDN'T KILL THEM!  Just this week they have suddenly sprouted into tiny green things in their little pot.  There are a few of them so I think when they grow up I will move Jeremy to a bigger pot, then to the garden in the spring, and they can have his old one.

4) I made flapjacks!

And...

5) I am finally getting some drawing done!  I'm still at a point of being a little scared of the work I know I need to do to make something of myself illustrator-wise, so I have a bit of a backlog but this week I've finally started working through it.  Getting done those things people asked you to do (and generally won't pay you for) so that I can get onto bigger and better things that will actually earn me some money.  Hoorah for proactivity!