I have been married twice, and have had three wedding rings. The first was a second hand ring, which was selected as a result of lack of finance. I quickly developed a rash on my finger, and abandoned wearing it. Shortly after, I replaced it with an eight strand silver puzzle ring, which caused the same problem. In addition to the problem of my reaction to it was that they both scratched easily and hindered my dexterity when attempting card manipulation (I am a hobby magican).
On getting married to the current long suffering wife, I got the ring I had longed for. No gold for me, this is the real deal. A thick platinum band that cost – well a lot. And no off the shelf number either. Oh no, this was made for me. The same jeweller made my wife's engagement and wedding ring. We looked for a long time for an engagement ring, and with her deep dislike of big sparkly diamonds, the task was not easy. At last, in the window of an expensive jewellry shop my wife spotted a ring that she fell in love with. The price tag? A snip at £2000. We took a photo of the ring, and visited a jeweller who made rings to measure and he priced up the ring at a tenth of the cost. He got a selection of stones in and we picked together the ones we wanted. The ring is beautiful.
As I have continued to eat my fingers have become slightly bigger and soon my ring became unwearable. My wife, however, takes her's off only if showering or washing up. It was then somewhat of a distressing thought to her that her fingers might swell a little in pregnancy and that she would need to remove her rings, and so she resisted. And resisted. Till yesterday her finger was swollen and the rings wouldn’t come off. With tears streaming down her face we went to the local fire station and had them cut her rings off her. All is not lost, our jeweller will be able to repair them, but it got me thinking. What do we value and why? I value my marriage very highly, and would like to say the ring really isn’t a big deal to me. Yet even with it sitting in a ring box, it matters. It’s a symbol of the promises we exchanged, and so even though I don’t wear it, I would not willingly part with it.
We often watch a TV show in which people come have antiques valued and discovering they're great value are very keen to sell them. I look around my flat and realise I really haven't got anything that would fetch a high price; most of the things I own are things that other people didn’t want anymore, but they all have a significance, a value. They make me think of the people I got them from, or remind me of events that have happened around them. It's as if each item has a life of its own, that it is in some way soaked in the atmosphere and events it has witnessed. It comes as no surprise that some items are considered by some people magical. It is, then, all the more impressive, that for all the silver goblets, all the fine robes of Christendom, the sacred symbols; the items that contain the greatest value of all are water for baptism, bread, and wine. Maybe it is only through investing meaning and significance in such transient things that there is enough space left for them to contain all the meaning and significance we place on them. The simpler the item the more space left for significance. A simple band of precious metal, able to hold far more meaning for the individual than the most beautiful of paintings or well worded sonnet.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Monday, 20 October 2008
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
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
Saturday, 2 August 2008
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
Boy or a Girl..
My wife has no desire to know the gender of our baby before it's born; she views it as a reward that will help her through the end of labour, a surprise we should wait for. I, however, am a man, and a man who struggles extraordinarily to get my desire for instant gratification in check. I still don’t go to bed on the night before my birthday till gone midnight, in the hope that I will be able to convince my long-suffering wife that as it is *technically* my birthday I should be allowed to open a present.
I have never been good at waiting, but I do like surprises. If I tear open all my presents before I go to sleep, in the morning I will wake up disappointed that I have already had the excitement. My wife has agreed, that if I am confident that I can not let it slip, she doesn’t mind me knowing the gender of the baby first. The difficulty with this is that of course I would let it slip, I wouldn’t be able to help it. I have a pathological desire to tell the world everything; as is evidenced by this blog, I don’t do secrets. How I will cope as a priest if ever anyone wants to confess to me something truly juicy I have no idea. Don’t get me wrong, I will manage it, but we all know the whole point of knowing something is telling people.. Sorry I got carried away there for a minute…yes baby gender…
People ask from time to time, do you want a boy or girl? Now don’t get me wrong, I know the right answer. Everyone knows the right answer. “as long as its healthy…” You see the problem is, I am not worried about the baby's health. If we have a baby with serious medical problems, I can cope with that (this may come back to haunt me) but when I look at baby clothes, and children’s clothes I am always drawn to dresses and the like. I WANT A GIRL. Okay I have said it. I know that in the world of pregnancy this statement is a cardinal sin, I know you hate me…that’s okay, I can live with that, but, come on, girls are just cuter! I will be fine if we have a boy, it will be great, but part of my desire to know the gender now, is so that if it’s a boy my first thought won't be "..oh that’s a shame". Now sure my first thought will probably be "wow it’s a baby. Bet that stung…oh yes that’s going to smart in the morning" (apparently these are not the comforting comments one is allowed to make to a wife in labour).
Faced with this dilemma, I have decided to do the sensible thing, I am trusting that some fatherly parenting gene will kick in with the baby's first cry and I won't care what the baby's gender is when its born, so I have agreed with the wife..we will wait and see. So, come on dads-to-be, and dads already, be honest…did you/do you have preference, and did it matter when baby was born?
I have never been good at waiting, but I do like surprises. If I tear open all my presents before I go to sleep, in the morning I will wake up disappointed that I have already had the excitement. My wife has agreed, that if I am confident that I can not let it slip, she doesn’t mind me knowing the gender of the baby first. The difficulty with this is that of course I would let it slip, I wouldn’t be able to help it. I have a pathological desire to tell the world everything; as is evidenced by this blog, I don’t do secrets. How I will cope as a priest if ever anyone wants to confess to me something truly juicy I have no idea. Don’t get me wrong, I will manage it, but we all know the whole point of knowing something is telling people.. Sorry I got carried away there for a minute…yes baby gender…
People ask from time to time, do you want a boy or girl? Now don’t get me wrong, I know the right answer. Everyone knows the right answer. “as long as its healthy…” You see the problem is, I am not worried about the baby's health. If we have a baby with serious medical problems, I can cope with that (this may come back to haunt me) but when I look at baby clothes, and children’s clothes I am always drawn to dresses and the like. I WANT A GIRL. Okay I have said it. I know that in the world of pregnancy this statement is a cardinal sin, I know you hate me…that’s okay, I can live with that, but, come on, girls are just cuter! I will be fine if we have a boy, it will be great, but part of my desire to know the gender now, is so that if it’s a boy my first thought won't be "..oh that’s a shame". Now sure my first thought will probably be "wow it’s a baby. Bet that stung…oh yes that’s going to smart in the morning" (apparently these are not the comforting comments one is allowed to make to a wife in labour).
Faced with this dilemma, I have decided to do the sensible thing, I am trusting that some fatherly parenting gene will kick in with the baby's first cry and I won't care what the baby's gender is when its born, so I have agreed with the wife..we will wait and see. So, come on dads-to-be, and dads already, be honest…did you/do you have preference, and did it matter when baby was born?
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