The alarm goes of at 6.45am and I don’t want to get up. I sleep for another 15mins before dragging myself out of bed. Breakfast and off to work. Work pressure is high but I try to study in my lunch break. I make it home for 6.30pm and take Grace while the long suffering wife cooks. All being well by 7.30pm we have eaten. I then need to work on boxing up the flat and taking things over to my mother's. We are moving in under 14 days.
I have cancelled all the direct debits, cancelled the mortgague payment, cancelled all the bills – the letters will soon rain down on me, the final demands – but I haven’t got the money to pay the bills. Paperwork needs looking at but I haven’t the will or the time to do it. At 1am I crawl into bed, at 3am grace wakes to feed. At 6.45am the alarm goes of and I don’t want to get up. I sleep for another 15mins before dragging myself…and so it goes on.
It is the long suffering wife's birthday on the 27th. Grace’s dedication on the 1st. So much to do and right now all I want to do is sleep.
Last night the wife asked me how much I think her stomach will recover. If how it is now is how it is. She is doing the exercises from the physio – we are a long way off from where things will be but I see her struggling and there is no easy comfort I can offer. The long suffering wife was always going to struggle with a post birth body – she is a recovering annorexic on the wagon for some 10 years now. The tear of her stomach muscles though has made things so much harder, so much worse than they would have been otherwise. She has never had a positive body image and now I see her walking on a thin wire high above the world trying so hard not to fall, trying to cling on.
In a brief moment between feeds, between changed nappys, between packing boxes, between Grace with wind, I catch glimpse of my wife and daughter's eyes, brief moments, the merest hint of a smile and for a moment I lose myself in it and everything seems okay – and then I remember that there are things I need to be doing and so I drag myself out of my chair and continue the battle for survival.
Today I am struggling.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man.
Showing posts with label debt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label debt. Show all posts
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Monday, 29 September 2008
Money, Money, Money
I spoke to the relevant people about my debt at the weekend. I have been told that even if I need to go bankrupt, as long as the bankruptcy is discharged before I reach the stage of being ordained it will be okay. Obviously I don’t want to go down that particularly road, but I feel a huge weight lifted from my shoulders now that my situation is known and I havent been kicked of the course. Was going to leave this to go with a bigger write up on the weekend, but don’t know when or if I will get around to doing that and so many people have been praying about this, and asking about it, I felt I should tell you as soon as possible!
I am not much one for joy..but…just on this one occasion..I will offer a “Yippie”.
Yippie.
I realise that was an undignified outburst, but I feel it was called for. Just this once mind you.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
I am not much one for joy..but…just on this one occasion..I will offer a “Yippie”.
Yippie.
I realise that was an undignified outburst, but I feel it was called for. Just this once mind you.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Selling....
As some of you know, I am trying to sell my flat (which is in negative equity) as I can't make the mortgage repayments. We spent weeks decorating, decluttering, cleaning – and finally three weeks ago the "for sale" sign went up. I know the market is slow – I know it’s the worse time to sell – but there really isn’t a choice. So far we have not had a single viewing.
It's not that I am panicking, you understand – what’s the worst that can happen? We will be repossessed... it's not a great thought – something's got to give. But there are also rays of hope – I got a letter this morning from my work saying they have given me a bonus for a project I worked on. We get to eat for another month!! Sometimes it's so hard to trust that things will come right..but I am trying.
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
It's not that I am panicking, you understand – what’s the worst that can happen? We will be repossessed... it's not a great thought – something's got to give. But there are also rays of hope – I got a letter this morning from my work saying they have given me a bonus for a project I worked on. We get to eat for another month!! Sometimes it's so hard to trust that things will come right..but I am trying.
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
Thursday, 4 September 2008
For A Friend....
The discussion yesterday about pregnancy got me thinking again. One of the big issues with teenage pregnancy is it is often the “good kids” who get pregnant. The reason for this is that they are not expecting to have sex, and so are less likely to be carrying protection.
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Pain in the neck
About six months ago I dropped a TV on my head.
I realise that this sounds a little unlikely, so let me explain. I have a very big TV which a friend gave me, and which sits on a stand on wheels. To move this TV backwards, I got onto all fours and pushed the stand. In doing so, the TV toppled and fell on my head, neck and back. This resulted in me letting out, not a loud expletive, but rather, a whimper as I crumpled to the floor. I visited our small local hospital, which said that I needed an x-ray and should go to my doctor. I went to my doctor who said that they don’t like doing x-rays on necks; I should take some pain killers and see how it got on. I was in so much pain that I was off work for a few weeks. I then went back to the doctor who said "yes, it would still hurt. Give it time and it would be fine." That was, as I say, six months ago.
My neck still hurts. Rather a lot, really. A constant pain which results in me taking pain killers most days. Feeling that six months is long enough to wait, I booked up another appointment with the doctor, and was whinging at my long-suffering wife about the incompetence of the original doctors for not having X-rayed me, and that if it was broken and has fused wrongly now there will be nothing we can do about it. My wife replied, “that’s what’s compensation is for – if it was damaged and they didn’t pick up on it you would get compensation and you could get it fixed privately.”
I am not a fan of the compensation culture at all. However, when confronted with the possibility of money, it got me thinking. If I suddenly had a compensation pay out (and, no, I won't get one as I wouldn’t pursue it and am not a fan of such things) would I spend it on an operation or getting myself out of debt so I can be a vicar? For me, its no contest. I would happily live with the pain. Okay, okay, I know that’s not the choice I have in front of me, but in going through that bit of mental/physical arithmetic, the pain in my neck doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all – I have far better things to panic about.
So I arrived at the Doctors last night to be told they still don’t think an x-ray is needed and that what I need to do is to see a physiotherapist. There is, however, a very long waiting list. This is one of the things we have come to accept with the NHS, and we don’t tend to worry about a bit of a wait. The reason that on *this* occasion it is so frustrating, is that my company provides health insurance. The health insurance provides private cover for any treatment you need to wait more than 6 weeks for. "Well, brilliant", I hear you cry..."you just phone up the company insurance and its all sorted"... well, no. You see, while the health insurance is provided as a work benefit, the government looks at this and says, "right, we'd better charge you some tax on this", and so by having the company insurance you pay an extra £50 tax a year. In an attempt to sort out the finance last month, I went through everything we spend with a fine tooth comb, and cancelled my health insurance so that I would save that £50.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Yours, very probably (but with out X-rays we can’t be sure)
The Broken Man
I realise that this sounds a little unlikely, so let me explain. I have a very big TV which a friend gave me, and which sits on a stand on wheels. To move this TV backwards, I got onto all fours and pushed the stand. In doing so, the TV toppled and fell on my head, neck and back. This resulted in me letting out, not a loud expletive, but rather, a whimper as I crumpled to the floor. I visited our small local hospital, which said that I needed an x-ray and should go to my doctor. I went to my doctor who said that they don’t like doing x-rays on necks; I should take some pain killers and see how it got on. I was in so much pain that I was off work for a few weeks. I then went back to the doctor who said "yes, it would still hurt. Give it time and it would be fine." That was, as I say, six months ago.
My neck still hurts. Rather a lot, really. A constant pain which results in me taking pain killers most days. Feeling that six months is long enough to wait, I booked up another appointment with the doctor, and was whinging at my long-suffering wife about the incompetence of the original doctors for not having X-rayed me, and that if it was broken and has fused wrongly now there will be nothing we can do about it. My wife replied, “that’s what’s compensation is for – if it was damaged and they didn’t pick up on it you would get compensation and you could get it fixed privately.”
I am not a fan of the compensation culture at all. However, when confronted with the possibility of money, it got me thinking. If I suddenly had a compensation pay out (and, no, I won't get one as I wouldn’t pursue it and am not a fan of such things) would I spend it on an operation or getting myself out of debt so I can be a vicar? For me, its no contest. I would happily live with the pain. Okay, okay, I know that’s not the choice I have in front of me, but in going through that bit of mental/physical arithmetic, the pain in my neck doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all – I have far better things to panic about.
So I arrived at the Doctors last night to be told they still don’t think an x-ray is needed and that what I need to do is to see a physiotherapist. There is, however, a very long waiting list. This is one of the things we have come to accept with the NHS, and we don’t tend to worry about a bit of a wait. The reason that on *this* occasion it is so frustrating, is that my company provides health insurance. The health insurance provides private cover for any treatment you need to wait more than 6 weeks for. "Well, brilliant", I hear you cry..."you just phone up the company insurance and its all sorted"... well, no. You see, while the health insurance is provided as a work benefit, the government looks at this and says, "right, we'd better charge you some tax on this", and so by having the company insurance you pay an extra £50 tax a year. In an attempt to sort out the finance last month, I went through everything we spend with a fine tooth comb, and cancelled my health insurance so that I would save that £50.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Yours, very probably (but with out X-rays we can’t be sure)
The Broken Man
Friday, 8 August 2008
Wallowing......
I am really struggling today. The car insurance came up for renewal last week and, while I was sitting typing away at the computer, my long-suffering wife asked me whether it needed to go on direct debit to be paid monthly, or whether it could be paid for in a lump sum. Without thinking about it – or rather, not wanting to have the conversation at that moment in time, I said “whatever is easiest, just pay it” or words to that effect.
My wife duly paid the car insurance, and thought no more of it.
She then went to buy food and discovered there is no money in the account. Don’t fear, dear reader, I still have a credit card which has a little space on it so we won't starve but the situation is fairly black.
As regular readers will know, we are trying to sell our flat – let me clarify this situation somewhat. Six or seven weeks ago the estate agent came around and we were all ready to put the flat on the market, but my lovely mother said that really the flat would look better if it had some carpets in it (we do have *some* carpets, but some areas (eg the stairs) the carpets were in such a bad state that we had to pull them up, after falling down the stairs. Twice.
So, anyway, my mum kindly offered to pay for the carpet and the fitting, and told us to put off selling till the new carpet had been fitted. Six weeks later and the person fitting it is still messing us about as to when it's going to happen. Six weeks with a falling housing market means that this may well have knocked another £2000 of the value of our flat, which had already gone into negative equity anyway. I know it's not a good time to sell, but we realised that our fixed rate mortgage runs out soon, and we can't afford for our rate to rise. We also had a letter today from the mortgage company telling us that from October, we would have to pay £125 more each month on our mortgage. That gives us less than two months to sell our flat before we get into *serious* trouble.
I really am feeling rather panicked. I know we won't starve; I know it won't come to that, but I can't see an end to the debt and I really just want to cry. I am trying desperately to “look on the bright side” but today...its just not working. Sorry to moan; I know its most unbecoming and that I should just be trusting that it will all work out but, in honesty, right now, it doesn’t feel like it will.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man.
My wife duly paid the car insurance, and thought no more of it.
She then went to buy food and discovered there is no money in the account. Don’t fear, dear reader, I still have a credit card which has a little space on it so we won't starve but the situation is fairly black.
As regular readers will know, we are trying to sell our flat – let me clarify this situation somewhat. Six or seven weeks ago the estate agent came around and we were all ready to put the flat on the market, but my lovely mother said that really the flat would look better if it had some carpets in it (we do have *some* carpets, but some areas (eg the stairs) the carpets were in such a bad state that we had to pull them up, after falling down the stairs. Twice.
So, anyway, my mum kindly offered to pay for the carpet and the fitting, and told us to put off selling till the new carpet had been fitted. Six weeks later and the person fitting it is still messing us about as to when it's going to happen. Six weeks with a falling housing market means that this may well have knocked another £2000 of the value of our flat, which had already gone into negative equity anyway. I know it's not a good time to sell, but we realised that our fixed rate mortgage runs out soon, and we can't afford for our rate to rise. We also had a letter today from the mortgage company telling us that from October, we would have to pay £125 more each month on our mortgage. That gives us less than two months to sell our flat before we get into *serious* trouble.
I really am feeling rather panicked. I know we won't starve; I know it won't come to that, but I can't see an end to the debt and I really just want to cry. I am trying desperately to “look on the bright side” but today...its just not working. Sorry to moan; I know its most unbecoming and that I should just be trusting that it will all work out but, in honesty, right now, it doesn’t feel like it will.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man.
Thursday, 26 June 2008
Dress To Impress
Let me first of all say how grateful I am for all the comments I have had. I won’t bore you with all the comments about feeling less alone in the world, but please do take it as read.
This evening was spent sorting through my wife’s wardrobe with her and putting away the clothes that won’t be needed till after the baby is born. This clear-out is partly increased in urgency by trying to get our flat ready to sell. I know, I know, this is the worse time in the world to sell, and I am in negative equity, but I am sure I will explain all that another time. Back to my wife’s wardrobe; It is now empty. Every part of “man” in me wants to say, "It’s not a problem! Lets hit the shops, don’t worry about a thing”. Yet there is not money in the bank. In fact…. well, there are a lot of negative figures. So instead it will be a case of “lets hit the charity shops”. Now I know it’s just a pride thing, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s just clothes, but I worry about what future I will be providing for my wife and baby.
Each night as we curl up to sleep I wrap my arm around my wife’s ever expanding stomach and say “Night baby”. I know it’s ridiculous, I know my baby cannot hear yet, but every part of me wishes the best for my wife and baby. I spent so much of my life wishing I wasn’t alive, and a fair bit of it trying to make a speedy exit and yet now there is a light, and sometimes it still feels like such hard work to struggle on, to get through to the next day.
That sounds very down, very low, and I don’t mean it to be. I am blessed, more than I could ever hope for; a baby when I thought it would never happen, a wonderful wife, being told I can train as a priest! Now that is a miracle! There is no way I would accept me for training, and I only finally put myself forward as I felt that they would say “no” and that would be that. I have felt I should be doing it for a long, long time, but I never expected anyone else to agree. Yet with the flat in negative equity and me needing to be debt free to be a vicar I can’t see how it will ever be possible. I know I need to trust, really I do, but sometimes it just seems so hard. Sorry, down again! Well, I warned you – this is the blog of a broken man.
This evening was spent sorting through my wife’s wardrobe with her and putting away the clothes that won’t be needed till after the baby is born. This clear-out is partly increased in urgency by trying to get our flat ready to sell. I know, I know, this is the worse time in the world to sell, and I am in negative equity, but I am sure I will explain all that another time. Back to my wife’s wardrobe; It is now empty. Every part of “man” in me wants to say, "It’s not a problem! Lets hit the shops, don’t worry about a thing”. Yet there is not money in the bank. In fact…. well, there are a lot of negative figures. So instead it will be a case of “lets hit the charity shops”. Now I know it’s just a pride thing, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s just clothes, but I worry about what future I will be providing for my wife and baby.
Each night as we curl up to sleep I wrap my arm around my wife’s ever expanding stomach and say “Night baby”. I know it’s ridiculous, I know my baby cannot hear yet, but every part of me wishes the best for my wife and baby. I spent so much of my life wishing I wasn’t alive, and a fair bit of it trying to make a speedy exit and yet now there is a light, and sometimes it still feels like such hard work to struggle on, to get through to the next day.
That sounds very down, very low, and I don’t mean it to be. I am blessed, more than I could ever hope for; a baby when I thought it would never happen, a wonderful wife, being told I can train as a priest! Now that is a miracle! There is no way I would accept me for training, and I only finally put myself forward as I felt that they would say “no” and that would be that. I have felt I should be doing it for a long, long time, but I never expected anyone else to agree. Yet with the flat in negative equity and me needing to be debt free to be a vicar I can’t see how it will ever be possible. I know I need to trust, really I do, but sometimes it just seems so hard. Sorry, down again! Well, I warned you – this is the blog of a broken man.
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
The Blog of a Broken Man
So why a broken man? It seems a fair starting question. My life history is a messy business and seems a bit unfriendly to begin my tale with woe; if you find this page of interest, then I am sure we will get to know each other as time goes on, but at least a little explanation seems only right.
My life has contained much in the way of disaster. I can not claim more than others, however; the experinces I have had now seem common place. The loss of a brother to heroin, the loss of a wife to another man, money…ahh, now there is an issue..but I am sure we will come onto that in time.
I have lived through some dark times, as Morrissey once sang, "the things I have seen could make a good man turn bad". My story is not one of someone turned black by the world, however. As this page is black and my writing shines out bright and white, so it is with my life. It is written that those living in darkness have seen a great light, and that is my story. While I am broken, a cracked pot as the expression goes, shines light through those cracks.
As by now I am sure you will have guessed, I am a Christian. It’s a phrase that doesn’t easily roll of my tongue, in honesty; in England Christians have a bit of a bad name, they are associated with hypocrisy, and mediocrity. Faith is something that goes on behind closed doors, and what goes on in churches often seems unrelated to a belief in the Divine. My belief is in a God who is whiter than white, whot blasts away the most impressive advert for a new cleaning powder, I believe in a God who shines and expels darkness, who takes our brokenness, who takes all that has ever gone wrong, all that we have ever done and thought, and transforms it into something beautiful. Strength comes not from this broken husk, but from the God who breathes life into dry bones.
So this blog, this journal, if you care to follow it, will be the story of a broken man, hopefully, bit by bit, made more whole. When writing something like this one wonders who will read it, who will care about the ramblings of a stranger on the other side of the globe, so if you chance upon this page do introduce yourself, let me know that you popped by.
You have a right to wonder what you will find if you where to draw up a seat next to the fire on a regular basis, if you make this a point of departure in your busy day. Who’s life will be laid before you? Well, I am a 32 year old man, married to a wonderful women who is now 16 weeks pregnant with our first child. I have been accepted for training for ordination as a priest, but whether or not I can become a priest depends on whether I am able to clear debts accrued through negative equity. I will keep you posted as to how that goes, and will, undoubtedly, write about life as a father-to-be and my training. It’s a pleasure to meet you..I hope you enjoy your stay.
I think that is more than enough of an introduction, time to get down to the business at hand.
ENTRY ONE
Today my wife is 16 weeks and one day pregnant with our first child. It took five years for her to become pregnant, and we had given up hope. We had looked into infertility treatment, into the options available and felt unable to go down that road. The creation of embryos outside the womb, and the “disposal” of those not required seemed a step too far. A step into a world where we would prefer to leave God firmly in charge. So we prayed the prayers of the Bible and cried out as so many have before for a child. When my wife fell pregnant someone asked her, “Was it a miracle?”
It’s a good question. To answer "yes" seems to suggest that those who recieve no apparent answer, or a "no", have somehow been neglected by God but to say "no", seems to deny God’s hand in it. When I sit and think about it, I am certain that every birth, every pregnancy, every breath we take is a miracle, a gift which should be cherished, which we should take with gratitude. Is my wife’s pregnancy more of a miracle than me being able to open my eyes this morning? The only difference seems to be that I don’t often pray that I will wake up in the morning. We are surrounded by miracles, we just fail to see them for what they are. So yes, my wife being pregnant is a mircle, and one that I will thank God for every day of my life.
I can not begin to express how happy I am that she is pregnent, that we will be parents, that I will be a father. I wonder what kind of a father I will be, and confess I am worried, worried about all the mistakes I am sure I will make. Even now we discuss in every detail how we would like to bring up our child, even now I feel a twinge of panic about my inability. Hence, again, I come back to the statement that I am a broken man, made of clay. I try to remind myself it's not through what I can do, through my abilities, my skills – my roguish good looks (well, ok, I don’t have roguish good looks!) that God will work, it's through the cracks, the acknowledgments of my incapability that God can work. Its only when I say, "okay God, this is in your hands" instead of trying to do it all myself that God really gets a chance to work.
One of the things I love about God is that He is a gentlemen, this is not to imply that God is exclusively male, but rather that God has manners. God gets involved in the areas of our life we open him up to, not in the areas we lock away. The areas we lock away or try to, that’s where we have the trouble..
My lunch break is reaching an end, so I will end it there. Its been a pleasure, see you tomorrow?
A Broken Man
My life has contained much in the way of disaster. I can not claim more than others, however; the experinces I have had now seem common place. The loss of a brother to heroin, the loss of a wife to another man, money…ahh, now there is an issue..but I am sure we will come onto that in time.
I have lived through some dark times, as Morrissey once sang, "the things I have seen could make a good man turn bad". My story is not one of someone turned black by the world, however. As this page is black and my writing shines out bright and white, so it is with my life. It is written that those living in darkness have seen a great light, and that is my story. While I am broken, a cracked pot as the expression goes, shines light through those cracks.
As by now I am sure you will have guessed, I am a Christian. It’s a phrase that doesn’t easily roll of my tongue, in honesty; in England Christians have a bit of a bad name, they are associated with hypocrisy, and mediocrity. Faith is something that goes on behind closed doors, and what goes on in churches often seems unrelated to a belief in the Divine. My belief is in a God who is whiter than white, whot blasts away the most impressive advert for a new cleaning powder, I believe in a God who shines and expels darkness, who takes our brokenness, who takes all that has ever gone wrong, all that we have ever done and thought, and transforms it into something beautiful. Strength comes not from this broken husk, but from the God who breathes life into dry bones.
So this blog, this journal, if you care to follow it, will be the story of a broken man, hopefully, bit by bit, made more whole. When writing something like this one wonders who will read it, who will care about the ramblings of a stranger on the other side of the globe, so if you chance upon this page do introduce yourself, let me know that you popped by.
You have a right to wonder what you will find if you where to draw up a seat next to the fire on a regular basis, if you make this a point of departure in your busy day. Who’s life will be laid before you? Well, I am a 32 year old man, married to a wonderful women who is now 16 weeks pregnant with our first child. I have been accepted for training for ordination as a priest, but whether or not I can become a priest depends on whether I am able to clear debts accrued through negative equity. I will keep you posted as to how that goes, and will, undoubtedly, write about life as a father-to-be and my training. It’s a pleasure to meet you..I hope you enjoy your stay.
I think that is more than enough of an introduction, time to get down to the business at hand.
ENTRY ONE
Today my wife is 16 weeks and one day pregnant with our first child. It took five years for her to become pregnant, and we had given up hope. We had looked into infertility treatment, into the options available and felt unable to go down that road. The creation of embryos outside the womb, and the “disposal” of those not required seemed a step too far. A step into a world where we would prefer to leave God firmly in charge. So we prayed the prayers of the Bible and cried out as so many have before for a child. When my wife fell pregnant someone asked her, “Was it a miracle?”
It’s a good question. To answer "yes" seems to suggest that those who recieve no apparent answer, or a "no", have somehow been neglected by God but to say "no", seems to deny God’s hand in it. When I sit and think about it, I am certain that every birth, every pregnancy, every breath we take is a miracle, a gift which should be cherished, which we should take with gratitude. Is my wife’s pregnancy more of a miracle than me being able to open my eyes this morning? The only difference seems to be that I don’t often pray that I will wake up in the morning. We are surrounded by miracles, we just fail to see them for what they are. So yes, my wife being pregnant is a mircle, and one that I will thank God for every day of my life.
I can not begin to express how happy I am that she is pregnent, that we will be parents, that I will be a father. I wonder what kind of a father I will be, and confess I am worried, worried about all the mistakes I am sure I will make. Even now we discuss in every detail how we would like to bring up our child, even now I feel a twinge of panic about my inability. Hence, again, I come back to the statement that I am a broken man, made of clay. I try to remind myself it's not through what I can do, through my abilities, my skills – my roguish good looks (well, ok, I don’t have roguish good looks!) that God will work, it's through the cracks, the acknowledgments of my incapability that God can work. Its only when I say, "okay God, this is in your hands" instead of trying to do it all myself that God really gets a chance to work.
One of the things I love about God is that He is a gentlemen, this is not to imply that God is exclusively male, but rather that God has manners. God gets involved in the areas of our life we open him up to, not in the areas we lock away. The areas we lock away or try to, that’s where we have the trouble..
My lunch break is reaching an end, so I will end it there. Its been a pleasure, see you tomorrow?
A Broken Man
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