Thursday, February 26, 2009

The consolations of philosophy and theology

I often gather up grand intentions like this one that don't quite come to pass but I have decided that before going to hear Alain de Botton speak with work colleagues I should read The Consolations of Philosophy (written by him, obviously) and then The Consolations of Theology, which the former inspired the Moore Theological College folk to write. We'll see if I manage it ...

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work - Alain de Botton

I just booked to go and see Alain de Botton speak on The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work at the Opera House (see here if you are interested – selling fast) with a small group of friends from work. I quite like his work (from a human interest perspective), so do they, and Status Anxiety included some positive references to Christianity (from memory!), so perhaps it might open up some conversation.

My bible study group is encouraging us to be proactive this year about engaging with our non-Christian friends, and also including the rest of the group in doing so, and these work friends are on my hit list :). That and it should just be something interesting and fun to do!

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The Big Issue

I am sure you all know what the Big Issue is – the magazine that the unemployed and/or homeless sell on the streets. I didn’t previously pause to buy this publication, but in the last year or so there has been a fellow I pass as I walk to work who I find it very difficult to ignore or decline. The first time I bought a magazine from him he lit up like a Christmas tree when I stopped and we had a chat. Now he sees me coming and he gets ready and excited – and there is just no escape.

I am sure that someone somewhere has done the research on the social welfare aspects of selling this magazine, and how it is a beneficial way to encourage people to help themselves and start a small business venture and so on. And I am more than happy to support people taking this sort of initiative.

The thing is, I very rarely read it or give it more than a cursory skimming. And having studied Natural Resources Management (and perhaps for the reasons that I studied that in the first place) I loathe wasting paper. I don’t buy or take colour-printed magazines of any sort, unless I know I'll read them. So the Big Issue goes on the pile with a whole lot of other magazines that come in the mail and don’t get read either - and contributes to my war against paper. (I dug out my recycled paper-making kit last night and think I need to get it operational as one way to deal with all this stuff.) Basically, I don't want it! But it would seem wrong, and against the whole philosophy of what they are attempting, to give the fellow a donation and tell him to keep his magazine (even though that seems a win/win situation to me).

But what else to do? Has anyone else investigated the welfare benefits behind this magazine? Is there something better I could be doing than buying it? (Obviously there are plenty of things, but you know what I mean.) Should I just be donating to Anglicare, or equivalent, and taking a back street to avoid the guy with his magazines? (I'd feel better about that if I had a carefully-considered reason for not buying them.)

The EQUIP 2009/10 book list

The EQUIP 2009/10 book list is now out. So take a look and see if you would like to follow along for any of the titles. I’ll be doing Radical Womanhood by Carolyn McCulley this year, which is how it turned out as we worked through the book list and the contributors. In some ways this is an interesting choice for me. I haven’t ever considered myself as any kind of feminist. Growing up in an all-female, single-parent household, from somewhere I absorbed the idea that the greatest thing that could ever happen, for all of us, would be for there to be a man as part of the family. (When you have to fill all of a man’s jobs/roles, because there is no-one else to do them, it all soon loses its appeal.) I also went to a church that I think consciously taught and modelled the biblical concept of gender well. I remember doing a Sunday afternoon training course for a few weeks on “Being Male and Female” (I still have the notes, and they are still good notes).

But I also realise that I have never really been tested on some fronts. No-one tried to stop me going off to University to do a male-dominated degree. No-one tried to prevent me doing further study, or then having a rather crazy kind of job out in the bush, or subsequently working in fields that were male-dominated. I haven't experienced the frustrations that come from being at home all day with small children (that wasn't my choice, but it's how my life panned out). Nothing and no one has ever really gotten in the way of me doing just what I wanted to do. So, that is one of the strengths of Radical Womanhood I think, in showing us how feminist assumptions (the good and the bad) have permeated the air we breathe, whether or not we are actually aware of it.

Monday, February 23, 2009

More blinks

Oh, and I can't believe I left off this very important article on gourmet chocolate (and your heart health what's more) from Carolyn McCulley.

I also liked Ben Myers' review of the Leonard Cohen concert (and how beautiful is that video clip). I didn't go to the Sydney concert, because I wasn't a big enough fan of LC to justify it then, but I wish now, after borrowing five CDs off a friend, that I had. Note that Ben quotes the line that inspired my lino-print.

And I liked this prayer for those who want to want God, from Between Two Worlds. And this too on prayer from Tim Chester (via several other people).

Some kind of blinks

It’s boring around here lately. I’m writing this blog and even I think it’s boring. (Some time ago I said I was going to wind back on blogging, but instead it became a case of 'more is less' as I just kept on posting stuff with less effort involved.) I was going to make up some imaginary friends, or go on an imaginary overseas trip, but then I decided that escapism isn’t perhaps the best remedy. So here are some other things to read:

In waiting - Meditations for Christian Single Women - by Wendy Alsup. Somehow I missed this (even in google reader) when it first came up and have just read it. Well worth it.

Abstinence of Chastity – here is good and interesting article by Laura. H/T Craig.

The art of conversation by Karen.
This is so true. I learnt how to have conversations with strangers when my job required that I pick up back-packers from a youth hostel, drive with them for three hours in the car and then work closely with them for a week. I was generally introverted, but my over-developed sense of responsibility meant I felt compelled to make all the effort. Three years later “you could hold a conversation with a gate-post” is one thing that was said to me (by a church minister). Practice and simply trying goes a long way.

And, shame on me, but I don’t think I have actually mentioned that this month at the EQUIP book club we are working through Living with the Underworld by Peter Bolt. The book and Alison Napier’s post on it are fascinating reading.

Setting a bad example

So, I am renowned for getting into all sorts of unusual sitting positions on office chairs. When I was working at James Cook University, one of my colleagues one day goes "who am I?" while he did some kind of contortion act on his chair (that's when I first realised I was a noticeable odd-ball). Anyway, one of the ladies who works here part-time just popped in with her two little girls, who look to be about five and four. They walked past my desk and when I said hello the slightly taller one said to me "are you allowed to sit like that?", because I didn't exactly have my bottom firmly planted on the seat. Probably not. So I straightened up and sat on my chair properly - till the children left.

A blog cheer!

I spoke to the ever-entertaining Ben yesterday, and it was amazing! Here's a big cheer and blog pat on the back from me.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Another poem - Supporting Steven

Here's another beautiful poem of Sophie Hannah's, for marriage. (I can't format it properly, with the indents, but it still works.)

Steven's Side

I am supporting Steven
as if I were a beam
under his ceiling, even
though he is not a team.
Under his ceiling even
a nightmare is a dream.

Steven and I have entered.
Some people have implied
I would be too self-centred
to cheer for Steven’s side,
I would be too self-centred
to fail if Steven tried.

I am supporting Steven
as if I were a rail
behind his curtain, even
though he is bound to fail.
Behind his curtain even
a white net is a veil.

Steven is no performer.
He has no gift for sport.
I make no cool crowd warmer
by staging my support.
I make no cool crowd warmer,
adorn no tennis court

but I am supporting Steven
as if I were a pin
above his hemline, even
though he will never win.
Above his hemline even
a jacket is a skin.

I am supporting Steven.
I am at Steven’s feet.
I put him first and even
give him a thing to beat.
I put him first and even
then he will not compete.

Sophie Hannah

Friday, February 20, 2009

Poetry Friday - Between flippancy and neurosis

Today, I have another poem by Sophie Hannah, which is perhaps also aimed at single women (then I'm going to stop with those, I promise). She's very good at articulating certain ways of things.

The Answer

Why do you give the impression that you’d rather
not be loved? You almost tell people not to bother.
Why are you neither one thing nor the other?

Why do you fluctuate between ticks and crosses,
alternate between flippancy and neurosis?
Won’t you confirm or contradict my guesses?

What is it that you do, by simply sitting
with your elbows raised, that makes me sick of waiting?
Why is your absence tantamount to cheating?

I know you’re real, which means you must pay taxes,
catch colds and snore. I know you know what sex is.
Still, there is something in you that never mixes,

something that smells like the air in silver boxes.

It makes me suddenly afraid of asking,
Suddenly sure of all the things I’m risking.

Sophie Hannah

Picture from

Thursday, February 19, 2009

A beach baptism

I went to a baptism down at the beach last night. My friend, her dad (who became a Christian after being married to one for about 27 years) and her sister’s boyfriend (who became a Christian after he asked one out) were all baptised. It was so good to witness (I forgot to take my camera or I would have some photos). Afterwards they had reserved a table for about 30 people at a restaurant so we all went out for dinner. It was a really good night.

(The only bad moment is that at around 9:30pm curiosity got the better of me and I decided to try some Malaysian tea, which is basically black tea laced with condensed milk. I don’t usually drink caffeine at that hour, and, sweet tooth that I have notwithstanding, I don’t add sugar, specially not that much sugar, to any hot drinks. It was potent. I couldn’t get to sleep for ages. Then this morning I hauled myself out of bed and did my usual morning thing in slow-motion and didn’t leave the house till 8:30 am.)

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

When the use of idioms is not helpful

So I logged an IT help desk call at work this afternoon saying this (I am on friendly terms with these guys):

Staffware seems to have given up the ghost this afternoon. Is that normal?
My response from the English-as-a-second-language technician:

What do you mean by “ghost”?

Prayer of comfort for those who have suffered great losses (in recent bushfires)

God is our refuge and strength . . . Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam . . . There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. Psalm 46:1-4

Comfort those who have suffered great losses Almighty God, from your Word we know that you created a world of beauty, peace, and joy. But by man's disobedience all was spoiled and we see the resulting hard reality of death and violence. We give thanks that you did not forsake the lost world, but instead have given us the river of your love and mercy in the gift of your Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who suffered to take away our guilt and restore us to peace and joy eternal. Grant that we may be always mindful of the frailty of earthly things, and comfort especially those who have suffered great losses in the wind and water of recent storms. Move our hearts and hands to share as we are able with those in need of earthly support and above all to share the river of God's love and mercy in the Good News of our Rescuer Jesus Christ, in whose name we pray. Amen

From a random internet search for something quite unrelated: here. I found some good prayers in this index (one of the more interesting a prayer for chocolate addiction).

Monday, February 16, 2009

Brighter things

On the upside, I got these cushions, by Target :), and these foot-poof things, by K-Mart, on Saturday, and they are the very same colour red, if slightly brighter than I was aiming for, and more crimson than this stangely-coloured photo suggests. The couches needed a lift because they are the same colour as the carpet, as you may notice. Now I just need a feature cushion or two. And I also bumped into Justin and family at IKEA - one of the nicer bumping moments, which I hope he doesn't mind me sharing with the world - which was great because I hadn't really said hello at Justin's induction last week.

Murphy's week

I’ve been having one of those weeks. I wish I could rewind and start again. The first thing was that in shifting a small cupboard in the lounge room (I only wanted to move it an inch or two) I knocked over one of my favourite things which is a sort of plaque after the fashion of Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” and it fell against the cement rendered wall and chipped the corner off (I hate concrete walls – they scratch, chip and break everything!). Then I went to pick someone up for a wedding, on that shockingly hot day, and there was no parking out the front of their place so I pulled into a parking lot under a block of flats opposite, and then when I went to back out of it, right in my blind spot was a kind of cement pylon I hadn’t noticed so I dinged the back bumper bar. Then I got involved in a blog comment discussion I wish I had never entered into (this was perhaps the worst, cause it was more deliberate on my part and had more potential to be ungodly – and I learnt my lesson about how things can wind up and that if the other party doesn’t budge you just want to further argue a case you didn’t care that much about in the first place, and you can say and/or share things you later regret), then I went to IKEA on Saturday, a rainy Saturday, which I knew was going to be crazy but I didn’t have any other opportunity to go. I must have been day-dreaming because I missed the Homebush Bay Drive exit, so then I got off at Silverwater Road and thought I’d just come back along Parramatta Road, but you can’t turn left onto Homebush Bay Drive off Parramatta Road, so I had to come right back in, in the wet Saturday traffic, and start the M4 again, then, once I finally got to IKEA, I picked up some crimson cushions which I thought were the colour I was after for the new couches, but turns out they’re not, so now I need to go back there, which wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and there were no trolley’s available on that weird thing that delivers trolleys so I went to get my self-help furniture without a trolley and found myself with a box two metres long full of wooden furniture to lug about (even the nice guy at the checkout couldn’t find me a trolley), which I had to jam into my car etc. Then after IKEA I went to Broadway, also on a wet Saturday, to get some things for the house (I am having a small interior decorating fetish at present) and that was quite exasperating, most especially Coles. Then I thought I would light this stubb of a candle left in my standing candelabra that I got for my 21st to get rid of it so I could put new candles in (since I was getting all house-decoratey), and I got distracted by a visiting friend and instead of the candle going out when it got to the bottom the wax kept burning and actually burnt the candelabra, would you believe, then my friend, trying to be helpful, vigorously blew it out and wax sprayed everywhere and landed on the carpet (I think some had already dripped on the carpet), so later, in removing the wax (with an iron and paper towel – but don’t try that at home because if your carpet contains nylon you might just melt the carpet) I burnt myself with the iron – and I have done that a thousand times before but this time it blistered. I hate little mishaps like those because they so unnecessarily wreck stuff. Then on Sunday I had asked people for lunch after church but they'd said no — for good reasons and not just because they didn’t want to. So I came home to assemble my IKEA furniture, only to discover that instead of providing an Allen key I actually needed a screw driver (imagine that!) and I couldn’t find one, so I ended up walking up the road for a screw driver. I was hoping that my flatmate would actually have a hammer when she came home, but no, so I walked back up the road to get a hammer (went into the variety store and bought a cheap pink one, just to perpetuate the silly blonde thing, but it worked fine). Then at work this morning my computer wouldn’t start and I couldn’t do anything, and now, because they didn’t replace it when it was showing signs of dying, I have lost everything off the hard-drive, so I had to be totally set up again with programs etc and wasted most of the day at work.

But all the niggling little mishaps reinforced a few lessons about patience and acceptance and kindness and self-control — as I crawled along in traffic and told myself to smile and be nice to all the people who bumped into me in the shops, and apologise to all the people I bumped into, and not get too frustrated with the people dawdling along like they were sight-seeing in IKEA (perhaps they were!), or worse, the people who actually step backwards without looking and smash into you, and deleted my blog comments and bit my tongue instead of raving on to manager when she came to see how my computer fiasco was turning out — and about the fact that “a cup brimful of sweetness can’t spill one drop of bitterness no matter vigorously shaken” or whatever that saying is. Perhaps a better way to say it is that out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45). Circumstances or other people can never make you sin, they can just let the lurking sin manifest itself - unfortunately!

(And I appreciate that compared to the week of some in this country mine was nothing! Things could have been a whole lot worse than a chipped decorative thing and a small burn on my arm!)

Frustrating Monday

I came into work this morning and wouldn’t computer wouldn’t start up, at all. It behaved like this one day last week, but I thought it had gotten over it and moved on. Now finally (after I actually had quite a nice time reading my novel), I am set up on someone else’s computer, because they have finally conceded that my computer is rubbish (they can’t put a disc in to fix the corrupted system file because it doesn’t read discs anymore!) and they are replacing it with some renovated old thing, but now the whole system is mucked up and freezing every time I try and do something and people are walking around groaning about how this and that isn’t working. I feel like I might as well go home!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

The sorrow next door

It must be something about being a woman, but it seems that every few months or so, you need a good cry. And so what you need is something to let you indulge. The other night my flatmate had just headed out to a movie and said on the way ‘I feel like a good cry’ and I thought ‘yeah, me too!’. Then I curled up on the couch with my book while I rained outside, which, to me, is some kind of bliss. I was reading Scenes of Clerical Life by George Eliot. Her books really need to be republished with new names, because who, these days, is going to pick up a book called ‘Scenes of Clerical Life’. The first story is about a curate called Amos Barton, and up until this point in the book it had not been overly enthralling – lots of humorous and not-so-humorous gossip amongst the parishioners about said curate and so forth. But then I got to this paragraph:

For not having a fertile imagination, as you perceive, and being unable to invent thrilling incidents for your amusement, my only merit must lie in the faithfulness with which I represent to you the humble experience of an ordinary fellow-mortal. I wish to stir your sympathy with commonplace troubles – to win your tears for real sorrow: sorrow such as may live next door to you – such as walks neither in rags nor in velvet, but in very ordinary decent apparel.
And after that I got my good weep over this beautifully sad page:

The burial was over, and Amos turned with his children to re-enter the house – the house where, an hour ago, Milly’s dear body lay, where the windows were half-darkened, and sorrow seemed to have a hallowed precinct for itself, shut out from the world. But now she was gone; the broad snow-reflected daylight was in all the rooms; the Vicarage again seemed part of the common working-day world, and Amos, for the first time, felt that he was alone – that day after day, month after month, year after year, would have to be lived through without Milly’s love. Spring would come, and she would not be there; summer, and she would not be there; and he would never have her again with him by the fireside in the long evenings. The seasons all seemed irksome to his thoughts; and how dreary the sunshiny days that would be sure to come! She was gone from him; and he could never show here his love any more, never make up for omissions in the past by filling future days with tenderness.

O the anguish of that thought, that we can never atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them, for the light answers we returned to their plaints or their pleadings, for the little reverence we showed to that sacred human soul that lived so close to us, and was the divinest thing God had given us to know.

Amos Barton had been an affectionate husband, and while Milly was with him, he was never visited by the thought that perhaps his sympathy with her was not quick and watchful enough; but now he relived all their life together, with that terrible keenness of memory and imagination which bereavement gives, and he felt as if his very love needed a pardon for its poverty and selfishness.

No outward solace could counteract the bitterness of this inward woe. But outward solace came …

Friday, February 13, 2009

Love: the last God standing?

I like this article by Michael Jensen, on the ABC online.

Poetry Friday - A Valentine's poem

So, here is a poem for single women everywhere, for tomorrow. After posting on singleness recently (you know where) I have lost all shame. I've got nothing left to lose. That and I think something needs to be done about the groundless stigma of being single in this country. So, I am going to do my part with an original poem. My disclaimer is that I know this is a poor excuse for a poem. It's one of those "scraps on the way to prose" things. Consider this a thought that I just dribbled down the page. And I have contorted my bible verses (see below for the references) but just call that poetic license. I should probably disown line 3, lest I be labeled with that "D" word that women have to pretend they have no interest in relationships to avoid, but just run with the sentiment (and I would think twice about a guy who turned up with a stuffed gorilla—which I have never been able to understand in connection to Valentine's day—but when else am I going to get to use "stuffed gorilla" in a poem?).

So here it is:
No red roses come for you
Nor any more original flower
You'd take a stuffed gorilla
From a heart that was yours

Everywhere today
The world declares you don't belong
To those it is made for

But each today is strung by the Eternal
The world was made by a dying love
Greater than St Valentine's
With eyes that rove the earth for
Hearts completely His
And in arms everlasting
You belong.

For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His.
2 Chronicles 16:9 (New American Standard Bible)

The eternal God is your dwelling place,
and underneath are the everlasting arms.
Deuteronomy 33:27 (English Standard Version)

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Out of the ashes

This is extraordinary, and sweet. I have been out catching koalas in the wild before, which is a stage production of ladders and abseiling and nets, and you would simply never try to handle one with your bare hands (they have the teeth and the claws to do quite an injury - and are simply not the cuddly animals you see in zoos). They also rarely drink free water. For a wild animal to behave like this it must have been in dire straits.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Great stop-motion video

This is very cool to watch. H/T This is Reverb.

Reel love

Has Hugh Grant ruined romance? So I linked to an article very similar to this one on the EQUIP book club that spoke of the ways that romantic comedies can spoil your love life. Here it is again in a different form. If you were going to stay in and watch Bridget Jones' Diary this weekend, consider yourself warned! - and enjoy your violet crumble :).

Friday, February 06, 2009

Poetry Friday - To reap alone

One of the later chapters of the book on singleness, that I reviewed for EQUIP, talked about being ready to give a reason for your hope when asked tactless questions about being single. So, here is a poem that captures something of that. The subject of the poem is apparently singing a melancholy strain, yet at the same time the song she sings as she goes steadily at her work alone is carried away in the heart of the listener.


BEHOLD her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

William Wordsworth

Mental Health Day

I am having a mental health day today (ie I took a day’s annual leave, because I felt like I was going to have a melt down otherwise). I don’t know why sometimes I feel like I have hit the wall. It’s only February! But in January I was busy writing on the EQUIP book club, then last weekend my old flatmate moved out and I changed rooms. I didn’t expect this to be a big job but by the time I’d taken the bed apart, taken books off shelves, drawers out of the dresser, files out of the filing cabinet etc so I could shove them all around to the next room, it took a long time. I interrupted this to go to a hen’s night last Saturday, which was a lovely but a reasonably late night. Then Sunday was church, I was invited to lunch, which was also lovely (I wanted to go home for a nap but thought I’d make the most of it), then went to the supermarket to buy stuff to bake something for Monday night, came home and baked, loaded a post on the EQUIP site etc, and then transferred the contents of my wardrobe to the next room. So, Monday things were still something of a shambles on the home front, that night I was off to an MTS (Ministry Trainee Strategy) Worker’s supper, with baking, Tuesday night was bible study, Wednesday night was the theatre. Around these outings I had been doing fascinating things like defrosting the freezer, launching an attack against the shower tile grout, from which I refused to give up till it waved the white flag of white cleanliness in surrender, sorting through stuff. So, sitting at work yesterday afternoon falling asleep, knowing that I had to go to the shops that night to get a wedding present for Saturday, wondering when I was going to get to the real estate agent, vacuum, clean the bathroom etc (before the new flatmate comes this Saturday) because my Saturday looks like this: 8:30am-1:00pm church boot camp (yes, 8:30am!!), 3:00pm till late wedding, and that I had something on Sunday afternoon after church I just went arggh! and took a day off. I think it really was the thought of having no Saturday free at all that was behind the arggh!

But so far so good. I have had a little sleep in, been for a jog (albeit a slow one because it was later in the morning and it’s a heat wave outside) been to the shops for something to organise the wardrobe so I can put my clothes away (because this wardrobe, even though the room is bigger, for some reason has less space), been up to the real estate agent, cleaned stuff. I am now going to have a snooze :). Then I am going to sort my wardrobe, iron my dress for the wedding, wrap the present, maybe even paint my toenails. And hopefully I will be cool, calm and collected and ready for the whole day out when I get up in the morning.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

A night at the theatre

Lastnight I got quite an education. I went, with Nicole (who every kindly and generously invited me along) to see The Removalists by David Williamson at the Sydney Theatre. Neither of us knew quite what we were expecting, but neither was what we got what we were expecting. It was a little, well, "course"—there were words and phrases in there that I don't know the meaning of (but I reckon I deduced as much as I needed to know from the context)—and also quite violent, but that served to get the point across powerfully. I'm just still digesting what that point was—something about violence and the abuse of power and Titus 2:6.

I had fun going off to the theatre. Before it started I went strolling around the back of the wharf making the most of the Cate Blanchett look-alike thing. I'm feeling very Continental at the moment because in the last couple of weeks I have been to the Art Gallery, the Opera House and the Theatre.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Transformers - more than meets the eye

I'm having a busy week, with a rather monstrous weekend coming up, and feeling a little momentarily swamped with stuff on - but that will pass soon enough. So I haven't really got anything to write about, but just want to push that last post along :).

If any of you followed some of the EQUIP book club blog you will notice that I kept suggesting people read You Can Change by Tim Chester. That was because I was reading it and finding it excellent (and very apt for some of the issues attending singleness). Then I was chatting with a friend who has recently been over to Crowded House in the UK to work alongside Tim Chester, who was commenting about how great they are at connecting our confessional belief to our functional belief, and that that is the strength of Tim's book. I concur with that! For example, I might acknowledge (or confess) till I am blue in the face that I believe that God is good. But it is still possible to be living (functioning) like I don't actually believe that at all - which will manifest itself in any number of ways. This book helps us join the dots. (And I kept talking about it at Christmas and reading bits out such that my Mum had to get her own copy.)

Anyway, Nicole over at 168hours has started today to blog her way through You Can Change. (And I plan to pick it back up and finish parts of it I set aside myself.) So, get yourself a copy of the book and follow along. (If you want to of course - this is not a bossy homework blog!).

(And excuse my corney title - couldn't help myself. Remember the theme song for transformers?)