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#metoo why now?

There’s been a lot of talk about historic abuse and victims coming forward after decades of silence. It’s made worldwide media since Hollywood got involved, but I’ve been hearing comments since the notorious Jimmy Saville.

Taxi drivers have ranted in my ear about women just wanting compensation and making up stories and now a leader of a large country has also felt the need to dismiss women who ‘suddenly remember’ their abuse.

It’s not that women wake up one morning and after 30 years thought, oh, I just remembered!

They remember every sodding day. It’s not that they’ve never told anyone either, it’s just that we haven’t told the right person.

We tell counsellors who ask us how we feel, we’ve told friends who have hugged us and said nothing, we’ve told people as kids but not by using words, and we’ve told other survivors who’ve then decided to tell us their story. But suddenly after years of telling others we decide to tell the police.

For me, it happened this Summer.

I was on holiday, thankfully the last day of my holiday because it ruined any chance of enjoyment.

I was chatting to a fellow church member who happened to attend a church I went to when I was a teenager. You know how it goes, you meet someone who has a place in common and you begin the ritual of listing names of people to see who you have in common.

“Do you know … ?”

“Yes, they’re really funny”

“Do you know … ?”

“Yes, her dads a perv isn’t he?”

And that’s how it happened, a conversation of how a man has been grabbing women and getting away with it for 30 plus years. Most recently, a woman in his church who publicly shamed him.

We chatted about how many women there could be, why the church wouldn’t just kick him out (apparently because he’d just go do it at another church). Whether finally meeting a woman who shouted at him publicly would stop him and how in truth, we doubted it.

We went our separate ways, but the conversation for me didn’t end. I was 14 when it happened to me, a mouthy teenager, but that was no excuse. I was furious that it was still happening that in all these years the church hadn’t stopped him.

I spoke to a church leader who advised me to speak to someone (they meant someone else, anyone else, just not them!) so I did.

The Manchester police website has a chat room, so I started there. Within minutes I was chatting to a woman online when she said someone was going to phone. A few minutes later I was on the phone with an officer who wanted an official statement.

Leeds police took the statement a few weeks ago. Coming out of that interview was perhaps one of the most freeing feelings I’ve experienced.

I wasn’t asked endlessly about my feelings like in counselling. There was no telling me that I’m just trying to cause trouble like when I tried reporting a similar situation to a minister, or the time a youth worker asked for the incident to be put in writing then filed the accusation in a drawer.

For the first time it was like handing it over to someone who was going to take the responsibility from me.

Of course, the man denied it, he can return to his church and try to get back to normal, and to some it’ll feel like he got clean away with it. But he knows that he’s been caught. His church knows he’s been caught and the police will continue to seek others he assaulted. The police didn’t arrest him because he’s innocent, but because at the moment, there is just my word.

The problem is, he isn’t alone, I grew up in an environment surrounded by men and abuse was rife. You know, my years of fear about speaking out has been broken.

It seems like that was just a rehearsal for tomorrow.

I’ve not been able to go to church for quite a while because it’s too close to home sitting in church feeling that the church let me down as a child. I live alone and I’m self employed, so I work alone, I’ve gone whole weeks without seeing another human and at times it’s brought me so close to the edge that I’ve had to use every bit of energy to keep going.

I’m usually the kind of person who doesn’t ask for help, doesn’t tell people when I’m struggling, and yet here I am telling the world, but I’ve learnt that if I’m going to get through this, I need to change how I am and I must start telling people and asking for help.

It was while searching online for possible help in case I needed it that I came across a government inquiry into abuse in institutions. In for a penny in for a pound I felt and since I’ve started telling the right people, why stop?

So tomorrow I head off for two days to give my statement which will eventually go towards advising the government on abuse. The statement also goes to the police who will decide whether to take matters further, but since the most prolific abuser from my childhood committed suicide after I eventually told him I’d tell someone, I doubt it’ll go far.

I’m sure some will question why now or wonder whether it’s worth it with the stress this is causing me, but years of not coming forwards haven’t done much for me, perhaps finally doing so will.

Sorry it’s not a post about knitting or dolls. Here’s a picture of my cat to make up for it.

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Thursday 19 April 2018

I’m off to Scarborough tomorrow with the little fisherman doll.

Today was a busy day of packing and repacking because I always carry far more than I need with me.

I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube videos of travel sketchers and looking at a minimalistic approach to painting and drawing equipment.

I watched an online craftsy class by Katherine Ewing called Luminous Watercolour Mixing which uses a six colour palette. Three cool primary colours and three warm primary colours. Its a great palette for producing some brilliant bright colours, which all look great together.

I’ve also been looking at more figure painting videos on YouTube. So far all my drawings are similar, simple sketches with little or no colour. I’m hoping to try some different techniques on the beach!

I’ve finished two dolls so far, and am now working on the knitter, based on the terrible knitters of dent. I knitted a miniature shawl using 2.25mm circular needles, that’s what I’ve been knitting in church the last few weeks (yep, I Knit in church, but I’ve not yet been struck down!). I knitted the shawl in undyed lace weight wool and dyed it as a finished item. I also dyed some of the lace weight yarn black so I can make some miniature dales gloves.

The gloves are similar to Sanquhar gloves, which are knitted fine and take a long time. I’m lucky in that my eyesight, while not being able to recognise people across the room, is perfect for small close up work. I made a swatch to try and get the right needle size and settled on 1.50mm knitting needles (DPNs) the gauge is 5 stitches per centimetre. So now I just have to hand Knit a miniature pair of gloves, easy right?

However, since my dolls don’t have fingers I had to decide whether to go with tradition and make gloves (imagine the mini fingers) or to make something that would fit on the dolls hands. I’m thinking practicality over tradition, so I’m hoping to manage mittens.

It’s these little details that makes the plan of 8 dolls more unlikely. I woke up a few days ago thinking that perhaps I could make a folk musician complete with accordion! It was at that point that I decided I was my own worst enemy and my attention to detail would become the death of me.

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Meaning in the cloth – rethinking the prayer shawl

I used to read the story of Cain and Abel and wonder what was Gods problem.

In case you don’t know the story here’s a little summary…

Cain was a farmer while Abel, his brother, was a shepherd. Both brothers came to God with a sacrifice. Cain brought some of his grown produce while Abel brought his best first-born lambs. Now God liked Abels offering of lambs, but, well… not too fussed with the veggies. The rest of the story can be read in Genesis chapter 4.


As a kid I didn’t get it, two guys brought a gift to God and God was a wee bit picky. 

Being British we’re raised with the ability to smile and look pleased whatever the gift, but God obviously isn’t British (where were his manners?).

Shouldn’t he be grateful that he’s getting something?

It’s not for me to argue with God about his reactions though, He wants the best, the first fruits and first borns. God wants to be the first thought on our minds and have the first portion of our gifts. In everything we do God wants first place.

I don’t think it was about making sure they gave 10% and perhaps it wasn’t even that the carrots weren’t the biggest. The meaning behind the gift is what riled God. You can imagine Abel looking over his flock, inspecting every animal for flaws and size, then picking the best of the best, as though this gift was for his beloved. Cain, watching Abels fussiness, laughed to himself while throwing a handful of the nearest veg into a basket, “that’ll do” he thinks.

You might know that feeling at Christmas when you give a gift that you’ve chosen especially and being aware that the real excitement is in the giving. Was Abel thinking of Gods face lighting up at the sight of God looking at his gift and seeing that most beautiful of lambs?

Similarly we might also know the feeling of giving a gift in politeness, those folk at the bottom of the Christmas card list who get whichever card is next in the box of 100. Who cares what the card looks like, its giving for the tradition and politeness rather than the Joy. That, I suspect is what riled God that day. He didn’t want a gift out of politeness but out of love.
When thinking about a prayer shawl what is our first thoughts?

Learning a new technique? Wondering how quickly you can get it finished? 

Do you have any thoughts on the reasons why you make the shawl? 

I know what its like to make something with royalty in mind (yep, I’ve kept quiet about that!). I chose yarn from a Yorkshire mill that could promise British only fleeces. I spent a couple of days hand dying the yarn myself. Every little bit of the item was made as thought the Queen herself would see it, no detail was missed, the stuffing wasn’t your average polyester, it was British wool, even the pipe cleaner arms that would never be seen were chosen by hand from a local pipe cleaner factory. The item was to be my very best work.

If clothing the naked and feeding the hungry is the same as clothing and feeding God then each prayer shawl should be made as though God himself was the recipient. Similarly, if each recipient is to see the shawl as a gift from God, then each shawl should be made with our best effort as though God himself had commissioned the gift.

Therefore, making a prayer shawl no longer becomes a second rate ministry but a valuable resource in the church.

Say what you like about the value of a church band, but someone in need has to come to church to hear the band play, they need to know the words to the tune and understand the poetry in the song. A prayer shawl is one of the few gifts that go beyond the church walls, beyond the boundaries of language and country. Giving a gift that has been made with so much thought and love, then given to be used when encouragement is needed is one of life’s most beautiful pleasures.

After the band have played the last note, the choir have sat down, the sermon done, the Amen said… the prayer shawl continues on and travels with the person in need.

The prayer shawl though, isn’t a magic cure. It isn’t a vessel to carry healing, and touching the shawl won’t turn around test results, if healing comes it comes through Gods choosing. It’d be romantic to imagine a physical prayer soaking into cloth, but the shawl, at it’s basic level remains simply a shawl. 

However, it still has something magical about it. In those moments when pain comes, when bereavement is unbearable, when loneliness surrounds, being able to wrap ourselves in a piece of cloth made by someone who thought of nothing but us in the making allows us to temporarily dwell in the presence of comfort, hope and fellowship.

I have two small toy bean bag cats in my home, financially worthless and commercially made, but given to me some years ago by a couple at church. Brian and Cathy were there in my darkest times, if I told you what they did for me, well, this blog post would never end.

Cathy died a few years ago from cancer and Brian has retired and moved away. There is nothing magical about the toy cats, but everytime I see them I’m taken back to a world where they are with me. I’m reminded that there is someone out there who loves me unconditionally, someone who values me as I am. I’m reminded of the many times Brian helped me quit drinking, of the times he let me sleep it off in his office. The years Cathy spent counselling me as a messed up young person, of the Joy in their faces at my baptism, the comfort when I lost my job, the worry when I moved to Leeds and the celebration when I went to University.

As I write this the tears flow and my heart hurts, but its a joyful cry and a blessed pain. Few people know unconditional love like that couple gave me and that is a real shame. As an alcoholic I accept the lifelong fight of sobriety, but I have two weapons, two soft toy cats that I look at and remember those who stand with me and I remind myself that this fight is worth it.

Nothing magical in the toys and yet something very magical.


A prayer shawl at its root is simply a strand of yarn looped together to form a piece of cloth. It is something that someone has taken hours to make and think about, but it is more than something to do with your time, more than a way of using up your yarn stash and more than a way to make something when you simply don’t know what to do.

To be called to the prayer shawl ministry is a powerful calling, it is listening to Gods commissioning, his choice of recipient perhaps without knowing why we are making the item. Being able to put our best work into a piece then hand it over without finanancial reward, personal acknowledgement perhaps even without knowing the outcome. Trusting wholly in the gift of giving for loves sake.

As I continue to look at this unique ministry I hope more and more people will begin to take up the call of this powerful ministry. I hope more and more churches begin to see the true value of a creative ministry in their church.

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The camaraderie of crafting

I’m in Birmingham, a place I’ve only ever passed through (well, okay a very short stay here as a baby). I’m here because tomorrow morning I’m running a workshop on electronics in textiles. 

After a sleep in my hotel room to catch up on several disturbed nights, due to my new neighbours dog trying to settle in back home, I come down to the hotel lobby, it’s almost 7pm, I expect most guests will be in their rooms, out at a theatre or restaurant, but no! The lobby has two sofas, both filled with people, to my right is a small bar area with around 20 more people gathering around tables. 

I find an empty table that seats four and take a seat, then as I do whenever I’m seated I pull out my knitting and… well.. I knit.

Within minutes I’m joined by Barbara, there seems nothing strange about our meeting, I don’t need to ask her name. Barbara is one of the hardworking volunteers at the knitting and crochet archive. We chat for a few minutes before she excuses herself and goes to other tables to chat. 

I turn around and see an older woman sitting just outside of a table group. I ask her to join me even though I’ve never met her. She sits for a moment then says she’s left something in her room and goes off to get it, leaving her bag next to me – a stranger.

By this point the number of people gathering in the lounge has grown to around 30 and growing. Nothing seems odd, no one is looking out of place. People who’ve never met are chatting and sharing almost instantly… and yet, it seems to be the most natural thing in the world.


Of course, I’m at the national Knitting and Crochet guild conference, we’re all knitters and crocheters. 

Yesterday I was at an interview, I was talking about crafting as a business and explaining the benefits of crafting in groups. It’s sometimes hard to put into words the instant friendships that can be created through something so simple as a craft group. 

On Wednesday I started a new knitting and crochet group in my local area, seven of us turned up with more people sitting on the sidelines watching. We talked, laughed and consoled while at the same time learning a new, valuable skill. As we meet regularly we’ll find out more about each other, our similarities and differences, we might find we disagree on religion or politics, but we’ll still meet, still share and still look at each other as friends.

This camaraderie is something I’ve been trying to put into words, with much difficulty. On Friday I sat in front of a panel of 10 business people and tried to get across why a social enterprise based on offering affordable and free craft groups was important. It’s hard to describe, but as I sit here in this lobby, with strangers I consider friends I’m realising this isn’t something that can be put into words.

I have friends who belong to a church which celebrates community, I stayed there recently in their community home. If it weren’t for the church my friend and I perhaps would never have met. Her accent often reveals a very privileged background but she met me when I was begging on the streets of London (a very long time ago) and we’ve been friends ever since. Her church often talks about the walls that come down through the church. Rich and poor, old and young… 

Her church experience though isn’t often shown in other churches. I go to a church that I consider friendly, very friendly in fact, but the camaraderie isn’t there. In two years of attending I feel I’ve made one good friend who’s close enough to know me and I her. Two years and still there’s a sense that the majority of people wouldn’t feel safe leaving their bag with me to return to their hotel room. 

It hit home recently when I was down to my last bit of money. I was still a week away from getting any money and I was owed money from the university. I had some food in the cupboard, but not enough to make a meal out of unless that meal was pasta, fish fingers and custard.

My gas and electricity were both down to their last pound and a recent leg ulcer has left me in agony. I was in pain and couldn’t even afford a packet of paracetamol.

Yet, as I sat there, trying to think of a way to get help, going through my list of friends who would console me, there was only one name from church that I could go to. Out of all the 50-60 people at church, there was 1 in two years that had developed a relationship with me enough to be there in my hour of need. That, my friends, is not real church.

It’s a shame, that the crafting community is doing what the churches seem unable to do, but it’s something that is very powerful. 

I see it in the quilting project, where young students begin talking openly about mental health and the effect exam pressure is having on their health. I see it on a Wednesday night when my fellow knitter, Helen, fills her car with folk so no one has to walk home alone, even though it means driving right across town and back again. I saw it on Wednesday as I listened to people begin the process of getting to know each other and I see it here in the hotel lobby.

I’ve been hearing it recently in stories of hospitals taking on a resident knitter to encourage parents to knit whilst their child is in hospital, I’ve heard nurses mention how powerful a neo-natal knitting group has been, and even my friend Helen has shown it by taking her spinning wheel to our hospital.

Where once the church used to be, crafting is coming. 

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Banned from the Band

I’ve been asked to contribute a piece for an exhibition called ‘beatitudes’. It’s based on the sermon on the mount and one of those well known parts of the bible.

The version below is from the message translation.

Matthew 5 1-2 When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him. Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said:

3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

6 “You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

7 “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

8 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

9 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

10 “You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

11-12 “Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.
I listen to Dr Bill Creasys Bible talks on audible and he has a very interesting way of explaining them which makes so much sense. 

At first I was going to create something on his viewpoint (it really is worth listening to). After a while though I started thinking about my own working style as an artist and what I want to say through my work.

I write a lot about poverty and a lot about the church and a lot about poverty and the church.

A lot of what I say is about the lack of understanding in some aspects of church life, the little things that churches do without really thinking about how their actions are perceived.

Recently there was an article in the Salvationist magazine (29/04/2017 edition) that told the story of a woman who felt she wasn’t allowed to wear a Salvation Army uniform because of a disability that meant wearing the skirt was unsuitable. The story loosely skips over the part where she was told she couldn’t wear the uniform with trousers (really, In 2017?), but thankfully she was able to push ahead and get trousers and feel like a valued member rather than a cheaper version, or as someone said to me a few Sundays ago, “not wearing the uniform properly”.

I have a similar problem, years of leg ulcers have left my legs… well, let’s just say I’d rather not have them on display thank you very much! 

Whilst you might have read the article you may have missed the editors comments at the front of the mag, but he spoke about the uniform, how it put him off joining for quite a while. He suggested that whilst the uniform has some uses, it mustn’t be  barrier for people joining.

Note: I know, I’m talking about the uniform again, I feel like I’m flogging a dead horse, but bear with me.

While the article and the editors comments spoke about barriers to the uniform from a disability perspective I have another barrier… cost.

A couple of Sundays ago (infact the same Sunday of the ‘proper’ uniform comment) I was talking to a friend about the cost of the uniform and a plan I was developing for the beatitudes exhibition.

I made my usual gripe of how a church started with the poor is in a position where only the rich can afford to join. I asked how they can justify charging £250 for a Sunday outfit just so you could take part. (My friend reads my blog I think, so let me just say I’m not repeating the conversation as a gripe to or about my friend!). 

My friend agreed and added that she wouldn’t pay so much for an outfit and had bought the uniform originally to play in the band, as a hard working mother and career woman the band was her weekly escape. We agreed, the cost was awful and went on our way.

Several days later I was still thinking about the conversation. 

Y’see, I don’t necessarily disagree with the uniform, sure it has its uses. But as it is, it’s impractical, expensive, badly designed and often badly made.

Imagine going to John Lewis, paying £70 for a skirt, getting to the till and being told they hadn’t finished it and you would need to take the skirt to a tailor to get the hem sewn up! At £70 I expect it finished and hand delivered in a box with a red bow.

Something bothered me about the conversation and it took a few days to recognise what it was.

My friends comment that she wouldn’t pay that much for an outfit… what bothered me?

It wasn’t that I wouldn’t pay that much, but I couldn’t.

In all innocence there is a level of misunderstanding in the church that is difficult to get across. I’ve been to a few songster practices, but realised there was just no point in going since I don’t have the luxury of being able to grumble at the cost, buy the uniform and join the choir anyway. I’d join the band, since I can actually play, but I’m barred from joining in church activities because of poverty. It’s important to get this message across so let me put it clearly…

I am barred from taking an active part in my church not because I won’t wear a uniform, but because I can’t afford to.

I am banned from being a useful member of my church because I am poor.

For those who still don’t grasp the reality of it, here it is in picture form…

 

Somehow, blessed are the poor in spirit seems the perfect starting place for my exhibition piece. Perhaps whilst the spiritually poor are blessed (Dr Creasy suggests that the blessing is in knowing you are spiritually poor and in the perfect starting place to find God), unblessed are the spiritually rich but financially poor.

How do I get this message across in one piece of work?

I thought of getting hold of an old uniform and embroidering over it things I could buy instead of the uniform, like five weeks rent, central heating for the winter. I’m not sure though it’d be enough to get the message across, people need to feel it personally. I thought of making the Salvation Army crest in goldwork embroidery and putting a price of £2,500 on it to try and get across how much the cost feels like to someone working. 

How do I get a middle class Christian to grasp what this feels like. Wanting to be a useful church member, but being asked to hand over almost two months wage for membership. Would you join the church on those conditions?

What it feels like to not be able to attend church events because you think your need for electricity is more vital. Trying to explain that the lunch club is failing because the poor community can’t afford the three course meals. Having a young girl pass the collection plate around and the sense of shame when you can’t put in. Telling my minister that my neighbour is a drug dealer and being told my neighbour is my mission field, yet not quite grasping what it’s really like for an ex-user to have a dealer on their doorstep. Offering to help at a coffee morning and being asked to bake cakes when I can just about manage a weekly shop for myself.

Just how do I get this message out there? 

I spent two years at Bible college, I’ve worked and volunteered for Christian charities for over almost two decades, and yet… I am not allowed to participate in my church, not because I am spiritually poor, but because I am financially poor. WWJS? (What Would Jesus Say?)

This Sunday is Candidates Sunday, a day when we consider Gods calling on our lives… I might stay home. Well, I have an important day on Monday and could use the time to prepare. The thought of listening to a sermon asking us to consider God asking us to act, yet the inner hurt of not being able to stinks a bit too much for me.

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The old time hostels

Just thought I’d share this.

It’s part of a documentary from the 80’s about the Salvation Army. This clip shows one of the hostels I grew up in and my parents managed.

Things have changed a lot since those days (thankfully), but fond memories of many of the people I grew up around.

Anyway, enjoy watching my mum trying to reach the suit hanger and my dad’s stunning sideburns (I forgot about his sideburns).

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Under the bushel

I found this video on Youtube recently and wanted to share it with you all…

 

The video talks about Gordon, a former cabinet maker who found his career ending because of our changing tastes. Our need for a fast, cheap, disposable lifestyle left Gordon without employment and forced onto the streets.

The Salvation Army recently changed the name of their hostels to lifehouses, and I grumbled at the cost of coming up with such a name (I’m a Yorkshire lass who calls a spade a spade). I still don’t think much to the name, but I’m glad we have some places left where homeless people can find their feet.

Although my dissertation and much of my research is on spirituality and textiles, as a lover of the ‘old’ ways and crafts I found this video truly wonderful.

A perfect example of how craft skills can be used for good and for the church. Gordon now volunteers (it’s a shame his unique skills couldn’t end in paid work) at a Salvation Army charity shop in Glasgow.

Then again, is his amazing painting skills, and the willingness for the charity shop to hold a mini gallery.

The real beauty though, is in people putting Gordon’s skills and opportunities together. That’s where the real magic happens.

There seems to be a lack of connection between people and skills, especially in the church. I expect many people are nodding their heads at this, and perhaps some nodding in annoyance feeling unused. (Grrrr, no one ever asks me to take the collection!)

The bitterness of attending a church and feeling as though you have no part to play is soul destroying and maybe even a large part in people feeling church isn’t for them anymore.

The old saying, ‘use me or lose me’ comes to mind.

I want to ask who’s fault is it? but I suspect the ‘blame’ is more a lack of confidence for most of us. We might sit there seeing a void and knowing we could fill it, yet we don’t have the confidence to put ourselves forward.

Some time ago church had a trend of getting folks to complete forms to find out where our gifts lay. Like a cosmopolitan quiz finding your ideal partner, the church quiz decided whether we were a hostess, preacher, listener or one of the dozen other skills the Bible lists. The church then could use the results to funnel it’s congregation into the relevant vacant position. The end hope was that everyone had a place in church and a role that suited their abilities.

It all sounded great, until you look at your individual church and realise what works in one, won’t work in another, besides, they didn’t need a social media guru back then. I always thought a better idea would be for everyone in the church to hand in their CV’s, probably the only document where we are confident enough to be honest (and perhaps boastful).

I think about people like my nephew who studied sound recording at university, yet was never asked to work the sound desk at church. What better option than someone with a degree in the subject?

I wonder whether giving him a job he was good at and enjoyed might have encouraged him to keep turning up on Sundays.

And yet, did the church know? Did they realise they had a professional in their midst?

The Bible says we shouldn’t hide our light under a bushel (Matthew 5:15) but that’s exactly what we do. Our confidence has been knocked by the world (and sometimes the church) and it’s not easy to raise ourselves up and point out our abilities.

We are in need of those miracle people who have the vision to stand in the gap between our ability and the churches need.

That person in Glasgow who figured out Gordon’s skills were just what was needed in the charity shop, that shop worker who spotted his talent as an artist and realised he needed an exhibition.

These are the miracles that bring a man back on his feet, the opportunities that can only be seen by visionaries.

 

So what next for Gordon?

Perhaps he could design and build a mercy seat that helped disabled people to approach without the option of sitting on it and facing the congregation?

Maybe he could be used to design the facilities at some of the new lifehouses, with his personal experience and craftsmanship.

I’m looking forward to finding out.

 

 

 

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That’s how you make a soldier

Recently I was in Manchester for a few work meetings and had a long lunch break. It was a Sunday, so I looked up the local corps and found they had a meeting at 12noon. Perfect time for me to go.

It was a friendly corps, one of those smaller, but growing places that I love.

A few other visitors arrived and I realised it was a special day, the enrolment of three new salvationists. A family, mum, dad and son.

In the usual UK corps, we can be a bit boring (maybe somber is a better word), especially when it comes to new soldiers and adherents. Usually, at some point in the meeting we call the folks being enrolled to the platform, a flag is brought out. The words are spoken, forms are signed, we stand in silence and raise a hand to promise to support the new people, then a few photos and it’s all over.

Maybe that’s why the uniform isn’t valued by some of us anymore. It’s nothing to celebrate.

Manchester Central was a different kettle of fish!

At some point in the meeting, without warning, a man at the back of the hall shouted out, “Please rise for the Salvation Army’s newest soldiers”, then with flag unfurled he marched in with the three new people following on.

“That’s a nice welcome”, I thought.

Three chairs were placed at the front for the new soldiers to sit in, then one by one they were brought to the platform and individually made soldiers. Not a mass gathering as I’ve seen, but the officer (who mentioned this was the first time she had done this) went through the whole process separately for each person. Making it a personal commitment. Each new soldier was asked to kneel and sign the articles of war (which we, as a whole congregation had previously read out), and each time we waited patiently while the soldier spent time at the mercy seat before moving to the next soldier.

This wasn’t a rush job, the band wasn’t eager to play and no one cared that the meeting was running on. Each person went through the ceremony as though they were the only person being made a soldier that day.

Then something I found really interesting, soldiers were asked to come forward and put the epaulets on the soldiers shoulders, as though, in that very moment, they became one of us, a part of the family.

Each person gave a testimony and I realised this was a whole family, coming to the church as one, but each making the commitment as an individual.

Finally, welcoming in the new soldiers, an old fashioned glory march.

Anyway, I share it with you, a small, but growing corps, that’s not yet become the somber, everyone looks the same, type of corps some of us have become.

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Quilt Kits for sale

I’ve finally finished the first kits for the quilt squares.

The kits contain almost everything you need to make two squares for the first Quilt of Hope.

Contents:

Instructions

Two x 6×6 inch cotton squares

One smaller cotton square (for a heart)

A piece of heat and bond

Four metres of embroidery thread in 4 colours

A needle

A pack of embellishments (buttons, ribbon etc)

I’m selling them for £10, which covers the cost of UK postage and the kit, any proceeds from these kits will go towards the other things we’ll need for a quilt.

If you want to buy one you can buy one online from my Etsy shop, click on the link below to go straight there.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/470923438/quilts-of-hope-square-kit?ref=shop_home_active_1

Once you’ve made the squares you can keep them or send them back to us to be sewn into the quilt.

Our first quilt is going to be for the Joanna Project (www.joannaproject.co.uk) which supports women working in our red light district.

If anyone is around Leeds on Saturday and wants to meet and try the kits we’ll be meeting in Chapel Allerton Saturday, everyone is welcome and we’ll be able to talk about best times and locations to meet and sew.

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The Quilts of Hope Project

There is something special about blankets.

Whether this is the silver blankets handed out to marathon runners after the race,

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Or used to provide emergency heat to survivors and vulnerable people.

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The thick wool blankets handed out in winter,

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or the blankets with arms we use to watch TV.

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There is just something magical in how a large piece of fabric can comfort us, warm us and make us feel safe.

I remember staying with my Aunty and Uncle as a child and becoming ill. Being ‘put to bed’ on the sofa and having a blanket wrapped around me. Being tucked in and feeling that, no matter how much I hurt, everything would be ok.

That’s the magic of blankets, duvets, coverings and quilts.

The Quilts of Hope project will bring communities together to make quilts filled with hope and love to vulnerable people.

We’re starting with a simple quilt of squares

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If you already know how to embroider you can make a cotton square with a positive quote or something more elaborate. The squares can be 5.5″ x 5.5″ or 10.5″ x 10.5″, we ask that when you make the square you think or pray for the people this quilt might help.

Then send the squares to us at:

Betty Virago

45 West Grange Road, Leeds, West Yorkshire, LS10 3AP

If you don’t yet know what to do we will soon be selling kits to make your square and using the money we raise to pay for the materials we need to finish the quilts.

email Betty at bettyvirago@gmail.com so we can tell you when the kits are ready.

We’ll be making some video tutorials as well, so there’s no excuses.

If you’re near Leeds you can join us for the magical part of quilt making when we all gather to hand sew the quilt. These are special events where we gather, pray, sing songs and talk together, and remember the people who might use the quilt.

Then when the quilt is finished we present it to a charity, to be used to warm, comfort and bless people in times of distress.

Our first quilt is going to the Joanna Project in Leeds who work with women in the red light area. Read more about that project at www.joannaproject.co.uk

But perhaps you know of a charity or group that would benefit from a quilt?

Email us and let us know.