Good Friday Reflections

'I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise' Luke 23:43

Today I am living in the light of what Jesus has done for me. What he did on Good Friday saved my life, giving me the opportunity to walk with him for the rest of my days and guaranteed me eternity in his presence. What Jesus did today means that I will see Annie again, it means that whilst death still has its ache, it has lost its sting.

For the first time good Friday has lifted my eyes to heaven and to the party that is going on now. There is so much comfort in knowing where his children are. I bet she is sitting cheekily at his feet, chatting to him face to face. Wow. She's having the best Easter ever. Everything that I find confusing and mysterious has been made clear and real to her. It's so easy to say 'It's okay she's with Jesus now, we'll see her again soon' but when you actually believe it, it's overwhelming. She is WITH Jesus, WITH him. He's a tangible, physical presence in her eternal life.

I guess the way I feel about her death is similar to how I view Good Friday. I grieve for the suffering that must endured, yet I delight and find joy in the way it has glorified God and consolidated the reality of his love for us.

Thank you Jesus.

Prayer of Jabez

Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, 'Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.' And God granted his request.

1 Chronicles 4:9

I re-read the prayer of Jabez today and I suddenly remembered why it seemed so familiar and I felt the need to recite it aloud.

In my early teens I was given a book about it. I was inspired and decided to whisper the verse to myself and to God as my own prayer every night before I went to bed. My journals at the time were bursting with wanderlust, so perhaps I was taking 'enlarge my territory' very literally. Anyway, like most teenagers I soon fell out of the routine and forgot about the prayer entirely, in fact I don't think I ever considered the impact or understood the potential consequences held within those few lines of correspondence between me and God. I guess didn't God didn't forget. I can see now how faithful he was to my request.

My life so far has been rich, it has been wild, tough, painful and wonderful. I have travelled more than i could have possibly hoped for, I have friends peppered all over the world, seasoning my life in the appropriate moments and making me laugh through my tears. I have a great relationship with my family, parents who inspire me and who model a solid and beautiful marriage, brothers who I love dearly and consider great friends. Churches that support and release me in my gifting, people who nourish my musicality and give me amazing opportunities to perform. The chance to study something I love, in depth, at a great university. Yes my eyes leak incessantly and sometimes I get really tired but that doesn't prevent me from running headlong into the blessing that God has provided in my ever widening territory.

Body Peace: Fashion Blog vs. Fashion Mag

This blog has been on my mind for a long time. It's one of those things I hate to talk about because it's such a typical girl issue. Nevertheless, it's had a massive impact on my day-to-day existence for a long time and only recently have I had the courage and the confidence to shoot down all the negative energy surrounding my appearance and body shape. I guess I just want to be honest and hopefully encourage someone along the way.

I have always loved clothes. The dressing-up box was by far my favourite part of any play room, not just because I was a natural drama queen, but because I loved fabrics, texture, buttons, collars, shapes etc. I loved trying on my Mum's clothes and admiring all her floral floatiness.

For this reason I have always had a difficult relationship with my body. I was the girl who hit puberty the same way a blind bird smacks into a window or a stunt car hits a wall. It was no gradual process. As a result I spent most of my adolescent years being significantly bigger than most of my friends, I often describe this period as 'The Beast Years'. I honestly thought I was hideous. I would spend a good hour every morning standing in front of my mirror tugging at my uniform in an attempt ot ease it into flattering my curves, then I would agonise over my hair and make-up, often re-applying and re-straightening a number of times. I was an avid reader of fashion magazines, I loved styling, I loved make-up and I loved pretty things. It was like being a magpie hovering over a nest of glittering goodies that you knew how to style but could just never get to. It frustrated me so much that I couldn't wear clothes like the models in teen vogue, at least that's what I thought, but really all I needed was someone to tell me how to dress my figure. Yes, I would love to be able to prance around the beach in a tiny bikini looking all tanned and toned, but even back then I knew that was a tad unrealistic for most people. I just wanted to wear great clothes and for fashion to be something fun rather than something stressful.

If only I had had access to the following fashion blogs. Real women, with real bodies journalling their personal style, un-airbrushed for all the world to see. If I could have seen how beautiful and happy these women looked, I wouldn't have felt so isolated. I wouldn't have felt like such a dork. I would have ditched Teen Vogue, stopped starving myself and enjoyed dressing my figure accordingly. Please take a look:

http://life-size-paperdoll.blogspot.com/

http://ticktockvintage.blogspot.com/

http://rhitbee.blogspot.com/

Another thing I have learnt and wish I had known, is that you grow into your body and your face as you get older. I have never been happier in my own skin, I can even look in the mirror on some occasions and know for certain that I look great. I just want to encourage all those girls who are currently screaming and clawing at their own reflection to read these blogs and start seeing the world through a new pair of eyes. There is not one perfect body shape, everyone says it, but you need to believe it. Wear things that make you feel good, even if it's not something your size 6 best friend is wearing. Don't look to Hollywood, celebrities or high fashion for inspiration. Be your own fashion muse. Dress for yourself, let your style reflect who you are - that's what makes fashion so much fun! Also, whilst you're at it, have a read of this Body Peace Treaty from Seventeen Magazine. I was given it at a conference in New York and most of it rings so much truth, even if it sounds a bit corny in places. Please print it out, sign it and stick it beside your mirror. I spent far too much time dwelling on my relationship with my body, it was such an unnecessary strain and such a waste of time - I would hate for you to do the same thing. I'm not saying I've got it completely covered, I can still spend ages getting ready in the morning because what I wear still has an effect on how I feel, but I guess what I'm learning is not to compare myself to anyone else and not to allow my weight or my appearance to consume me. My friends aren't my friends because I'm a 10/12., 5ft 3, brown-haired girl. They like me because I can talk the face off a palace guard and am generally a bit nuts. It's your energy, your temperament and your attitude to life that people really care about. Corny, but true. So go enjoy clothes cos they're great and styling is fun. My suggestion? Ditch the fashion magazines and start reading blogs. Oh, and remember that you're great.

Homecoming part 3

For some reason I find it necessary, after cleaning my teeth, to put my toothbrush in a wash bag and stick it under the sink. This may not seem weird to you, but every time I go to clean my teeth again I forget where I've put it and have a major hissy fit, blaming anyone and everything for having stolen my toothbrush. It's pathetic.

Also, my Dad returned home with two Mars bars for my brothers. He gave one to Ben and then, on not being able to find the other one, turned the kitchen upside down, increasing stress levels everywhere, only to find that he had put it in the cutlery drawer. He then subsequently tried to put the full milk in the recycling and the empty one in the fridge.

My Mother has also gone blonde. For those of you who know my family well, the whole concept of a blonde, straight haired Janine Jackson is frankly absurd.

My family is, in a word, a little dysfunctional at the moment. We stress each other out one moment and then make each other laugh the next. It's hardly surprising under the circumstances but it's still incredibly frustrating. It makes home less relaxing and distorts all that cosy childhood nostalgia you expect to be confronted with when you walk through the back door. Yet despite it all, I have never been so desperate to be in Bracknell. It's good for my soul to be surrounded by the origins of my deepest fears and insecurities but also to uncover the springboards of my greatest dreams.

Once again Laura has saved my life. When to two of us drive around and sit in fancy places drinking tea, Bracknell becomes recognisable again. Yesterday as she grabbed my hands and prayed through my tears I realised once again how important it is to have friends like Laura. Today was just gorgeous, sitting in the grounds of South Hill Park, trying to ignore the diggers destroying the regency aura of the place, eating her homemade roasted vegetable soup, reading glamour and the prayer of Jabez simultaneously (we're very balanced) and just gushing about God's blessings in our lives. Today has really brought me home, centered me and focused me. I feel like I can finally move forward and begin to attempt the musical, academic and emotional challenges I'm going to encounter on my return to Bristol.

Homecoming Part 2: Remembering.

Remembering. I miss her. This morning I actually rolled over and went to send her a text. It's been 8 months: somedays my heart understands and sometimes it has to be reminded once again of the whole disgusting tragedy. Being here, walking through and around the stage that our friendship was played out upon makes the hole all the more noticeable. My most vivid memories of her are in the summer months, so now that the air is once again warm and fragrant her absence seems even more incongruous. I found a bunch of messages with flight details on last night - I'd completely forgotten about our American road-trip. We were going to church-hop across the states, ending up in L.A to attend Mosaic. We were going to drive a Lorelai-inspired jeep, by college hoodies and take super hot photos of ourselves on a californian beach.

I know I can still do these things. Her death doesn't restrict or limit my experiences, nor does it limit the person I can become, but I know that when I stand on that beach with my toes all grainy with sand, I'll be sad. I'll want her there with me. I will feel bitter. It will seem so unfair not to share that moment with her. I still can't believe she's gone. I'm still waiting on a text,still anticipating her laugh, still expecting her to walk through my door any minute. The cycles/stages of grief are so no linear, they're like a big knot or a spirally doodle: confusing, frustrating and unexpected.

Yet one thing I have noticed about grief, is how it can bring communities closer together. I look at us, Annie's friends, and how we value our friendships so much more: we belong to each other. When she died our world's were shaken and a hole was shovelled into our lives and our friendship group, but instead of falling into it, we reach across it. When one of us is slipping over the edge, we hold on tighter, we send more texts, make more calls, hop on trains and pray harder. There is a quiet understanding, a silent yet reassuring acknowledgement of our shared pain whenever we come together. But with this shared anguish, there is also a shared hope for our faith tells us that we will see her again. What a day that will be. What a glorious, beautiful day that will be.

Homecoming

I write this sitting in my favourite coffee shop, Santa Fe in Bracknell, drinking a medium vanilla latte (that I got free thanks to a full loyalty card- boom!) I was so ecstatic about getting a free beverage that the manager just came up to me and asked me to join their Facebook group. Yeah, I'm a coffee enthusiast, an avid advocate for coffee shop culture, I would make an excellent barista and yet Starbucks still refuses to hire me. Yes I'm still bitter about that.

Home. I'm home. It's good to be home. I was so ready to hug my Mum, to wake-up to the moody stare of Bertolt Brecht from the poster on my wall, to hear my brother singing show tunes in the shower, to drink coffee made by my Dad, to read newspapers with my breakfast, to lie on the sofa numbing my mind with OC reruns and Glee catch-up, to spend an afternoon walking around Bracknell town. You never really appreciate home until you've left it.

This evening I spent a good hour jamming with my youngest bro. Here's the evidence: