Things are ok. Things aren’t perfect, but we’re getting there. I’ve got some fingers in the fire and irons in the pie… You know what I mean. There are some changes afoot that would seem to equate to things being on the up. In my last blog I wrote about something horrible that happened, something I wasn’t ready to talk about. This blog is sparked by something rather good that could be happening, but again, something I can’t really talk about yet. But things are ok…

There’s a quote, which I love, from Matilda (In my head it was a Harry potter quote, but you can’t have everything!), “As bad as things were before, that’s how good they became”. Life got pretty scary and bleak there for a couple of months. I’m not ashamed to say that I was completely shaken and a little taken aback by how hard I took the events of the last few months. I am still, even now, rebuilding my confidence and learning how to be Lex again. But as bad as things got, that’s how good things are starting to promise to become.

This whole situation, from the epic decent into the deepest of valleys,  to an almost rocket-like launch up a mountain top, got me reflecting (of course it did!) on why I took it all so badly. I wonder if you, like me, are a hopeless comparer. I wonder if you, like me, live your life in the shame of your own backstage.

I have a friend who is the most content person I know. She is generally positive, happy with her lot and very emotionally healthy (something that this friendly little head case finds difficult to understand!), and part of the reason for her contentedness I think, is the fact that she doesn’t compare her life to the lives of other people. Because the truth is, when we get to comparing lives, the comparisons are never really fair and can lead to a whole heap of upset. When I was growing up, involved in lots of dance and drama, I was always told to never let the audience know if a mistake was made because they didn’t have the script or know the choreography, so they couldn’t tell. It’s the same when we compare our lives with other people’s, we can see the mistakes, we know when we’ve put a foot out of place or said the wrong line and we can see the messiness of our backstage; but we are comparing our behind the scenes,  with other people’s highlight reel.

Yes, the horrible situation I faced a few months back was awful, but part of the reason I took it so hard was because I was comparing how messy my life suddenly seemed, to the polished performances I saw everyone else living around me. People kept telling me that it was ok that I didn’t have things together, but it’s difficult to hear people saying that from a well lit stage, over a faultless musical score. I wanted someone to tell me it was ok while standing amongst the paint tins and broken scenery of a messy backstage.

Sometimes comparing ourselves to other people can be helpful; I use my comparing, competitive nature to my advantage sometimes. At the gym, in my head I am comparing myself to other people, racing them and hopefully beating them (however this can lead to injury if you choose to race someone decidedly fitter than you.. like your personal trainer). But when those comparisons become something that we beat ourselves up with; demanding more, demanding better, demanding the impossible, well that’s when the comparisons have gone too far.

I’m a perfectionist and find it so difficult when things in my life aren’t beautifully, sparkly, 100% top notch (they very rarely are!), but mainly because I think that everybody else’s lives are so beautifully, sparkly,  100% top notch, that I should be somewhere up there with them! And the thing is I know that other people have seen and believed my show, overlooking my messy backstage, worrying that their shows don’t measure up . We know that others’ lives aren’t perfect, why then are we so driven to pointless, soul destroying comparison?

So I’m taking a stand, I am throwing open my stage door, letting people see the behind the scenes footage and choosing to show people how messy the backstage of my life is;  my life is far from perfect, but its ok and that is ok. Its ok that I don’t have it all sorted, its ok that I don’t have all the answers and it is more than ok that I don’t really have a clue what’s going on. Because while neither I nor my life are perfect, my God is. And our perfect God does have it sorted, he does have the answers and he most certainly has a clue of what is going on.

 Its ok to just be ok. ( I know this may not be news to many of you, but I feel that there may be some of you who like me are fuelled and driven by reaching for perfect!)

So my challenge for us all is to bring the curtains down on our rehearsed, polished, award winning West-End lives (unless you actually do live your life as if it were a musical, in which case you carry on and God speed!). I challenge you to open up the backstage of your life and let people live amongst the mess. I challenge you to relinquish the perfect and embrace the ok. And if you are going through what seems like hell, know that as bad as things are now, that’s how good they will become- it might not be perfect but it will be ok again, promise, I’ve just finished reading that bit of the script.

Lex xx

So I know some people aren’t fans of PDA, but I’m not talking about the kind of PDA that grosses people out on buses. No this blog is not about public displays of affection, but rather public displays of affirmation.

Public displays of affirmation embarrass me. Private displays of affirmation embarrass me. Affirmation embarrasses me, get it? I become an awkward mess if people compliment and affirm me, for something I’ve done, who I am or even what I look like; affirmation is kind of a thing that I just don’t want or need to hear.

But the annoying thing is, over the last few years, as I’ve become more aware of who I am as a person and professional, I’ve realised that actually, regardless of whether I want to, I need to hear words of affirmation; especially when it comes to work. My old boss used to make me stand in her office and accept a compliment before I was allowed to shuffle off in embarrassment. Sometimes  it is when we least want to, that we need to be forced to hear the words of affirmation people are  speaking over us.

Almost a month ago now, something horrible happened. Something that knocked my confidence so badly that I am still unsure of how I will go about rebuilding who I was. Something that meant I forgot the words of affirmation that had been spoken over me in the past and don’t quite know how to hear the ones people are trying to speak at the moment. I’ve wanted to write about the situation, to try and rationalise and make sense of some of what I’m feeling, but I simply don’t know what to say and don’t really know if I want to say anything. Suffice to say, I’m tired, hurt and a bit broken.

I realise that the only way I’m going to regain some confidence and learn to be me again, is by remembering the countless people who have made me who I am. There is a cast of thousands (literally) who, over the years, have loved, encouraged and shaped this girl into being. So, if you’ll forgive me, I’d like to indulge in some PDA with this open letter…

To the one(s) who spur me on…

To the ones who share my DNA, my name and my short legs. You are the ones who have taught me that our blood and our love is so much thicker than what the world throws at us. With you fighting (amongst yourselves) in my corner, I know there is nothing I can’t face. You spur me on.  

To the one who has always been there and always will be, you are the best. We have stood side by side, facing life’s changes together and for your hand of friendship during those times I am forever grateful. You know me in spite of my masks and knowing you love me even if we haven’t checked in with each other in a few weeks gives me the courage to keep going. You spur me on.

To the one who is closer than she used to be, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You make me want to be a better person. You know exactly the right thing to say, even when it isn’t the right thing to say. Because of you, I look for solutions, instead of simply seeing problems. You spur me on.

To the one who is further away than I’d like, you encourage me to continue loving what I do. You gave (and continue to give) me hope at a time when things looked petty bleak. You were my friend when that’s what I really needed. You spur me on.

To the one who hurt me, you gave me a passion, a mission and a voice by trying to silence me. You aren’t in my life but because of you, I am who I am today. You spur me on.

To the one I used to want to be, you set me on this path of adventure. You inspired me to believe that I could do something I was  good at. You spoke more words of affirmation over me than were ever necessary. Because of you I know what it is to love going to work. You spur me on.

To the ones who I’ve not known long but see everyday, you make the ordinary, extraordinary. You have taught me what it looks like to be good at your job, even when your job isn’t good to you. Because of you I laugh every day. You spur me on.

To the ones who have adopted me, who treat this sometime waif and stray like one of their own. You’ve taught me the complexities of what “family” sometimes looks like. You love me when you really don’t have to and often probably shouldn’t. You are incredible, grace filled, forgiving people. You spur me on.

To the ones who have taught me, you have shaped me and left me in awe. You ignited in me a thirst and passion. You showed me what it was to work hard and what it means to achieve. Because of you I understand the joy of imparting knowledge and guide learning You spur me on.

To the one who is my male counterpart and the one who is basically my sister, you are some of my best friends. You get me when nobody else does and you find me funny when nobody should. You remind me where I’ve come from and model what I can push for. You spur me on.

To the littlest one who fits snuggly under one arm. You show me how powerful love is. Your smile speaks louder than any word of affirmation. I would do anything for you. You spur me on.

To the one, the one holding the big picture, because of you I know what it is to have faith that in spite of this current situation things will be ok because they have to be. Because of you I know that I am loved, I know I’m forgiven,  I know that I am called and equipped, I know that I am blessed beyond measure. Because of you I live. You spur me on.

Lex xx

I feel it’s time for me to come out (Stop it!). My aim with these blogs is to be nothing but honest and vulnerable and I feel like there is an elephant in the room that needs to be discussed. Here goes…

I’m shy. I am painfully, embarrassingly, annoyingly shy. The kind of shyness that stops me from looking at people in the eye, holds my tongue when it comes to speaking to new people and so often halts conversation into awkward silence. Now, for those of you who know me well and often struggle to shut me up, there may be a little scoffing going on. But I implore you to cast your mind back to when we first met and remember the awkwardness, the fear in my eyes and the, quite frankly, ridiculous clown act that I probably put on for you.

You see in spite of my gut wrenching shyness, I know that my current and hopeful future jobs don’t exactly go hand in hand with being incapable of actually speaking to people. So I act. For the sake of my work I fake confidence I never possess and put on the best front I can muster. I play the clown, knowing that if I can make people laugh I might just be able to get them on to my side and thinking that I’m not the rudest person they’ve ever been introduced to.

But its all pretend. Underneath it all I am the kind of girl that would rather be looking at her shoes, playing on her phone and avoiding peoples’ gaze so they don’t approach to say hello. Now don’t get me wrong, I do actually like people. I’m energized by people (those people whom I know well and don’t have to put on a front around) and, once I get over the first few terrifying encounters, I love nothing more than hearing people’s stories and telling people my story.

 But the thing is I’ve worked out what it is about meeting new people that makes my skin crawl, insides clench and hands shake in the way that they do… Small talk (*shudders* *Falls off chair*).

Yes those two little words that, when placed together, fill some with joy and cast fear into the hearts of others. Small talk, the verbal equivalent of smiling and waving at each other. You’ve acknowledged each other’s presence and seem super friendly, but you have learnt absolutely nothing about each other. It isn’t just my social anxiety and slight autistic tendencies that have resulted in my dislike of small talk, but more my wondering why it seems to be such a big deal.

You see, to me, there is nothing small about talk. Words are big and powerful and expressive. Our talk has the power to tear people down, build people up and change the world. Free speech, the ability to say what we are really feeling, is a human right, a right that some people in this world are all too sadly denied. Why would I want to waste my precious, powerful, privileged words on talking about the weather? I want to spend the few words that I have been allowed on trying to say wonderful, beautiful, profound things – not discussing traffic jams! Last year I fell in love with a quote that says, “Our words are the clothes our thoughts wear.” I want people to hear my thoughts wearing gorgeous outfits that show just how much time has gone into them and how important they are, not tripping out of my mouth in a hastily shoved on pair of joggers showing that they weren’t quite ready to be heard yet. There is nothing small about talk; anyone who has ever been silenced or told they are not allowed to speak about something will get that. Proverbs 18 tells us that  “The tongue has the power of life and death”. Our words are powerful, our conversations could be massive, our talk should be a big thing.

So let me try and sum all this up. I am by no means having a go at those wonderful (superhuman in my opinion) people who can talk to absolutely anyone about absolutely anything. Some of my best friends and people I look up to most are queens (and kings) of idle chit chat. The world needs these troopers or we’d all be stood around avoiding each other. But what I am trying to say is two things actually…

First, please (please, please, please) don’t think people are rude if they don’t automatically and expertly jump into small talk as soon as you are introduced. Maybe they are so anxious and awkward that they are trying to summon the courage and energy to actually look at you and speak. You crazy outgoing cats will never understand the guts is takes to do that, but please be patient, because they’re probably well worth getting to know! (And this is coming from someone who is now very good friends with two people she was just plain rude to on first meeting! I just took time to warm up a little!) Church leaders and youth leaders, please (PLEASE) don’t make people feel bad if they find it difficult to talk to new people, send in the superhumans and try to let us shy people do it in out own time.

Second, and I guess this is where the challenge for this blog comes in, make your talk big! (oooh eloquent, Lex!) I am the kind of girl that would hate sitting next to you chatting about the wettest winter on record, but would absolutely love to have a deep conversation about faith, life, death, love, the world, ethics or anything else that matters. I might not know how to do small talk but at the big talks I come in to my own. And it is for the simple fact that, generally, I genuinely care about most people I choose to talk to. I don’t want to waste precious time spent with them talking about irrelevant things when I’d much rather be learning about what matters to them, hearing their story and sharing some big talk with them.

Your words are powerful, your words are a huge thing. I pray that today you would use your words for big conversations. Tell someone how you really feel, voice a fear or dream, change the world. There is nothing small about talk.

Lex xx

I start this blog in a unique position. I’m not stood on my head but rather am sat staring at a blank screen and a bare hand without a clue of what to say or how to say it. I start this blog with one simple aim, I need to write. But while I may need to write, while I may want to write, that doesn’t alter the fact that I’m struggling to find the words. There is that well known saying “pray hardest when it’s hardest to pray”, well to be honest I think the same can be said of writing. The words aren’t coming easy and I fear what I have to say will be a tangled mess of thoughts and cliches, but still I must write, I need to make sense of what I’m feeling by putting it into words.

Lex xx

So this week I failed. I probably failed at quite a lots of things in hindsight, but I know that I failed at one thing specifically. This week I turned 24 and my birthday marked the end of a five year plan I set when I was 19. The five year plan had three points, by the time Thursday hit marking the culmination of my five years I’d achieved one of the three points. I failed. The three goals I set myself to have cracked by my 24th were to have a degree (check), be married (…um…) and be at least pregnant with my first child (…uh…). I failed, no two ways, no grey edges, no dispute… I failed.

Now I hear you shuffling awkwardly in your chair (unless you’re standing up… In which case, why are you standing up reading a blog you maverick?! Take a seat!) because that seems like quite a harsh way to start a blog. I used the F word (no not that one) no less than 6 times in that introduction alone and plan on using it a good few more before this blog is done!! Failure is not something we talk about in polite company very often. More accurately, our own personal failure is not something we like to talk about in polite company, other people’s failings- especially those in authority- can be lovely topic of idle chit chat!

Just as the more civilised amongst us don’t really talk about using the loo, failing is also something we aren’t too keen to admit to. But are we seriously kidding anyone?! Everybody poops and everybody fails.

Now regular readers of this blog (hi dad) will know that I am a raging perfectionist, I’ve written about the high standards I demand of myself both personally and professionally quite a bit. So why is it then, as someone who requires the utmost success of myself, that I find myself laying all bare (ooher) and admitting so openly to abject failure? It’s because I’ve learnt something. Some failure is inevitable, failure isn’t a dirty word and failure isn’t the end of the story.

If we travel further back into the mists if time, back even before the five year plan was created, to February 2008 you would find a very unhappy 18 year old Lex. A Lex who, although barely four months away from completing school and her A levels, was fighting tooth and nail with her teachers to be allowed to drop out of school. By the grace of God (and a fair bit of bullying) I didn’t drop out and I did take my exams but I by no means flourished. I’d applied for a deferred uni place to take up after my gap year, and because of my once high predicted grades had a pretty prestigious offer…. It’s no surprise that I didn’t get the grades for my first choice, I didn’t even get the grades for my fall back option. I’d failed.

Why am I telling you this tale of woe?! Well because, like it said, failure wasn’t the end of the story. I left school feeling like crap, started my gap year and found out about this amazing uni course, that was in exactly what I wanted to do, where A level grades didn’t necessarily matter, and the rest, as they say, is history. I went from near school drop out and failure, to a first class honours degree in four years. I’d failed once but flourished in the end.

So let’s fast forward back to the present and reassess the epic five year plan failure. Am I a bit gutted that I didn’t manage all the things I hoped I would have done by the age of 24? Of course I am. Do I wish I was married and had a baby? You have no idea! Did I fail? Yeah. Is it the end of the story? Hell no! Although I didn’t get to check off all three points on the plan, I wouldn’t exchange these last five years for anything. In the end my five year failure has added some of the most beautiful and exciting threads to the tapestry of my life, how can I look at that as a bad thing?

So I didn’t manage it all by 24, just imagine what I could do with another five year’s practice!!

Like the little acronym that titles today’s blog shows us, failure means we’re learning, failure means we’re trying, failure means we had the guts to give something a go. Why would we be embarrassed about any of those things?!

Romans 3: 23-24 sums it up for us, “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet God, with undeserved kindness, declares that we are righteous.”. We fail. I fail, you fail, we all fall short of God’s standard. But there is grace for our failings. There is grace that covers the shortfall and allows us to get up, dust ourselves down and learn from our failures. Thank God that while we may fail, His unending love and extravagant grace doesn’t.

So today I pray for us failures. I pray for those feeling the sting of shame that failing so often brings. I pray for those who feel that they have failed one too many times. And I pray for those failing without the knowledge of God’s unimaginable grace.

But most of all I pray for you (yes you), I pray that this week/month/year that you would fail at something. I pray that you would royally, massively, properly screw something up… But learn a beautiful lesson from it. I pray that you would have the guts to learn, the guts to try, the guts to bugger something up, and ultimately the guts to accept God’s grace in your failings.

Lex (24, single, childless, BA Hons!!) xx

If I were any of the characters from Friends, I would be Monica. It’s not her good cooking, although I like to think that is a definite similarity between us. It isn’t her penchant for cleaning, my aptitude for domestic goddess-ism is sporadic to say the least. And it isn’t Monica’s heart for her friends that unites us, although, again that is something that I hope we have in common. What makes me so sure that I am a “Monica” is my need to be in control…

Yes… My name is Lex and I am a control freak.

I’ve played with this blog theme for almost three weeks now, knowing that I’ve wanted to write something about control but feeling that it was maybe little bit too honest and vulnerable, even for one of my blogs. And then I was struck by the irony of wanting to write about being a control freak but being scared of being too vulnerable, in short scared of losing control of what people might know about me!

Control freak is one of those funny little terms that some wear as a badge of honour and others use as a filthy insult. When I apply the label “control freak” to myself its ok, its a cute little joke about a personality quirk. But if someone else calls me a control freak, I realise what an ugly name it is and what it is actually saying about me.

But why?! What is it about control that is so alluring to those of us who are Monicas? And is being a control freak so bad? Well if you would agree to take my hand and jaunt with me through this blog I’d like to unpack what I think about control, and what it means for me to be a control freak; and maybe set you a few challenges…

Imagine your life is split into three consecutive circles. The centre circle shows things that you have absolute control over; how you chose to live you life, how you dress, what you eat etc. The middle circle represents things that you have some influence and control over; how other people perceive you, your life situation etc. And the final circle holds those things that you have absolutely no control or influence over; how other people treat you, other people’s life situations and their impact on you etc. For me, being a control freak means trying to live my life entirely in my centre circle, or trying to make that centre circle bigger by pulling things from other circles into being within my control. It also means that the very idea of having an outside circle, things that I can’t control, is absolutely terrifying.  I spend far too much time being aware of my “control circles”, obsessing over them and compensating for time spent in my outer circle by comforting myself with time spent in my inner circle.

What do I mean by that final sentence? Well it is something that we all do to one degree or another. Imagine you’ve had a rough day at work, you come home and what do you do? You get a takeaway, have a slightly larger glass of wine, you stop on the way home and buy yourself a little happy, you put on a tearjerker film or you go and exercise the bad day right out of your system (maybe even all of the above if the day really has been terrible!). When things have got out of control and we’re left feeling a little vulnerable we compensate for that feeling of a loss of control by changing the little things that we can influence. How much we eat, how much we drink, sleep, spend, exercise etc. Like I’ve said its a normal thing to do, but those of us who are Monicas take it to extremes. Changing the little things so much, so often and so strictly, as a means to feeling more able to cope with a world that otherwise feels completely out of control, even if those excessive changes to the little things are actually damaging to us. Controlling what we are able to, makes the things we can’t control seem a little more bearable.

Something that I have struggled with working in a boarding school is the fact that I don’t have a lot of control in my everyday life anymore. I don’t get to choose what I eat or when I go to bed and so in response to this I try to pull as much as I possibly can into the circle of things that I am able to control to make up for it.

I wonder how much of your time you spend living in your inner circle. I wonder if you are one of those people, like me, who is scared of the very idea of there being things in your life that you can’t control. I wonder how much of your time you spend controlling small things to make up for feeling vulnerable and out of control in the big things.

But where does God figure in this? Being a Christian and being a control freak isn’t an easy combination to balance. Christianity is a living relationship with God, being completely open and allowing God to have his way in our lives; not something easily accepted by people desperate to control everything. Submitting to God is something that, if I’m being very honest here, I struggle with everyday. I want to be in control, I need to be in control of my life and giving that up, even to God, scares the crap out of me!

When I feel at my most vulnerable and I have to control everything I set myself a daily challenge to relinquish the control of one thing- its terrifying, its uncomfortable, but its an important challenge to set myself. So in wrapping this up I’m setting us all two challenges, the first is to let something go. Not something massive, not something that will get you in trouble to let go of, but something that you don’t necessarily have to control all the time. It might feel uncomfortable, but it might be one of the most liberating things you could do! And the second challenge is to let someone else make a decision for you. Again not something that is going to get either of you in trouble, but a decision that you would otherwise have the control to make yourself. Again, it might feel uncomfortable to give control to someone else, but choose someone you trust and allow them to show you that you don’t always need to hold the reigns.

So finally, I pray for all of the Monicas in the world. I pray for those who struggle to give God the control, those obsessing over what they can and can’t change and finally those who are stuck controlling the little things to make a chaotic world feel safe.

Lex xx

Once upon a time (almost 4 years ago) in a land far away (Northampton), in a strange mystical coffee shop (surrounded by Nannas) I had my first meeting with my uni tutor, and learnt something huge about myself. During that first fateful meeting I got feedback on my fledgling, very wobbly, misguided attempt at a reflective journal…

[For those of you unaware of the mysterious world of CYM (you lucky devils), the first two years of study are assessed by a portfolio of “Professional Practice”. This portfolio will feature between 12 and 18 journals; pieces of work that should be about 800-1000 words long and evidence the practical youth work you are doing at your placement and show how its being influenced by what you’re learning in lectures.]

But back to our story… Far from being the accomplished piece of reflective work I’d hoped that first journal would be, I was told that what I’d done was treat my tutor to a story of my first piece of youth work with Bridgebuilder. It was entertaining, had a few laughs, told the story of what was a very eventful evening in (exceptional) detail but nonetheless, completely missed the mark of what it was supposed to be doing. Rather than being discouraged by that process of writing an epic saga (seriously the doomsday book was shorter!) and realising it was useless though, I chose to learn from it.

You see on that day I realised that I am a story teller.

I guess I kinda knew that I was a story teller from a young age, far from being one of those kids that would grumble when told to do some creative writing at school, I was the one grumbling that there wasn’t enough time to write these fantastic tales I had in my head. I was the kid who would start every summer holiday by announcing that I would write a book (I know, pretentious right?). I loved telling people, in exuberant, exaggerated detail, all of the things that happened to me, my family and my friends… it didn’t even need to be interesting, and often wasn’t!

I honestly don’t think there will ever be a time in my life where I am not bursting with a story or anecdote ready to share with someone, in the hope of entertaining, empathising or connecting. And do you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have had the privilege to work and minister with some exceptional storytellers. The guy who introduced (read: dragged kicking and screaming) me to youth work was the best storyteller I have ever known, and this idea that I could tell stories as a job was probably what pulled me towards pursuing youth work. And why is story telling such an important and central part of my youth work? Well at the end of the day what is story telling? Whether to children or adults, friends or strangers, we tell stories to connect with people. And connecting with people is surely what youth work, nay living, is all about.  

When we tell someone a story, even if it isn’t necessarily true or about ourselves, we are giving people small pieces of us. If we are accomplished story tellers then that little bit of us might be packaged in beautiful and exciting narrative wrapping paper, but it is the same as if we are only able to chuck the story hastily in to a plastic bag barely holding the words together; we offer something of us to someone else. And there is risk involved. They might not like the piece of us we offer. They may get bored, they may reject it, they may disagree, they may mock, they might not even listen. But what if they do listen? They might see a side to us that they have never seen before, they may find healing, encouragement or comfort in our words, they may look at life in a whole new way. And in that moment, through offering someone a little piece of you wrapped up in a story, you have connected with someone in a way that you may not have done otherwise. Telling stories is sharing a piece of your humanity with other people, people who could turn around and offer a piece of themselves back to you.

I have a good friend who I used to work with and have done some kids’ camps with, and on a few of those camps we would tell the girls in our dorms bedtime stories. And on one night we would do a dramatic  retelling of the story of how me and this friend met and became friends. When we retold this story we were telling the girls about building solid, encouraging, Christian friendships; but were connecting with them in a way like no other because we were offering it to them in a very human story.   

What is life if it its not a series of stories waiting to be passed on to someone else?

So let me come to the end of this particular story and try to make a point. You (yes you) are a wonderful creation, a creature capable of exceptional, wonderful things. You are a constant story. A story that, even now, is being written. And you know your story better than anyone. I implore you to go and tell your story to people, to take the risk and connect with people in a way only you can. It might not be through spoken word; write, sing, paint, rap, draw, dance, photograph your story, but please tell it. Too many people’s precious stories go untold. The wonderful and gorgeous Emeli Sandé sums it up better here than I ever could (Will there ever be a time you don’t quote Emeli Sandé in a blog? I hear you ask. No. I hear myself answer), the chorus of her song read all about it says: “I wanna sing, I wanna shout, I wanna scream ’til the words dry out. So put it in all of the papers, I’m not afraid. They can read all about it, read all about it.” The world needs to know your story.

So finally I pray, to the author and perfecter of all of our stories, that we would have courage to tell our stories, that we would have humility when sharing our stories and that we would connect with new people in new ways and beautiful things would come from it.

The end.

Lex xx

I want to start off this blog by asking you all to cast your eyes to the screens and take a watch of this short clip from one of Ellen Degeneres’ stand-up shows. Fast forward to about 6:01 minutes into the video, watch to the end, chuckle and enjoy! Now Ellen is one of my favourite people on God’s green earth and I love pretty much everything she does, but this particular show, and this particular clip, shows what I think she is best at. Making you laugh (literally out loud) at the same time as hitting you with some rather beautiful truth bombs. What she says in this clip about our inner children is really interesting, and something that I think deserves a little further pondering.

I wonder if you’ve ever thought much about your inner child. Whether you ever address your inner child like Ellen does in the clip. Or whether you have even written a younger version of yourself a letter (like one of my other favourite people on the planet, Miranda Hart, does in her autobiography). You may have never thought about the idea that you have an inner child ever before. Well, whatever camp you fall into I would encourage you to carry on reading and ponder with me as I explore what it is to look after your inner child.

Let me introduce my inner child to you a little bit (although if you know me well you’ll probably already recognise her!). My inner child is 16, she is adventurous, excitable, passionate, she giggles (at inappropriate things), she is fearless, she loves the company of other people, she talks nonstop, she trusts implicitly and she has a thirst for justice and sense of right and wrong that can only come with being 16. I love my inner child, she can be the very best of me. But she isn’t perfect, she’s 16, she is full of teenage angst, she is moody, she can be immature and selfish, she is naïve, she is recklessly impulsive, she wears her heart and her hurts on her sleeve, and has all the passions, anger and rage of youth. Although I love her, she makes it difficult to like her sometimes.

Now before I scare you away from my blog forever, please believe that this is not me exhibiting schizophrenic tendencies or admitting to having a split personality, this is simply me writing about a large part of my normal personality that I identify as being a child. Why is she 16? Well when my mum got ill and died I had to grow up really quickly, and I did, except for a little bit of me that I think will stay forever 16. She is part of me and I am aware of her on a daily basis. So that’s me and my mini me, what about you and your inner child? What are they like?

Now disagree with me by all means, but I think our inner children are hugely important aspects of who we are and if aren’t aware of them or deny them in some way, then the only people we are hurting are ourselves. Like Ellen talks about in the clip, a bored inner child can keep you up at night because they haven’t had enough of a chance to play and find excitement during the day. And whose fault is it? Ours! As we get older we lose so much of the wonder that we once had as children. The wonder that kept us running back to that same tree that we knew we couldn’t climb, but believed that this time we could. The wonder that drove us to always ask why. The wonder that kept us playing in the same box (read: rocket, boat, car, house, cave) all day. The world and our passing years grind the wonder and joy of our childhood out of us. But guess what? We are the same people we were when we were children, we’re just slightly bigger, hairier versions of them and so the joy and the wonder are still possible! That is why I believe we have an inner child. Children know how to find wonder and be properly in awe of this world, and so as adults we need to look to our inner child to help us.

Do you know what else children are better at? Connecting with God! Children don’t have the worries of the world to drag their eyes away from God. A child’s simple trust and questioning nature go hand in hand with faith in a God that we can’t even begin to understand. Jesus said it himself “ Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” (Mark 10:15) Could it be that reconnecting with your inner child could be the means to a simpler and more honest relationship with God?

So what is your inner child saying to you today? I dare you to listen to them, maybe for the first time. Maybe your inner child is bored, perhaps you have lost the wonder and excitement you once had and they are trying to make you realise once again how amazing this world can be. Let them show you how to have fun again! Maybe your inner child is shouting at you about an injustice that you have witnessed. Children have a wonderful sense of right and wrong and a knack for making sure everyone is aware of it. Is your inner child challenging you to stand up for the injustices that you would otherwise just accept as part and parcel of a fallen world? Maybe your inner child isn’t very happy and alerting you to the fact that you aren’t either. Perhaps you need the guts and humility to approach your heavenly father as a child and allow him to hold and comfort you (16 year old Lex has been teaching me this again today).

Whatever you inner child may be whispering (or shouting) to you today, I encourage you to pay attention. We need to learn to look after these precious and vulnerable parts of ourselves, you wouldn’t ignore a crying baby or shouting child, well don’t ignore the child in you, its probably the most honest part of you! As I finish, I pray that we would not be like Jesus’ disciples shooing children away from him, I pray that instead we listen to Jesus’ words and let the little children come to him.

Lex (and Ali [16 year old Lex]) xx

I have a confession to make… I’m a bit obsessive. When I find something I like, I try to submerge myself entirely in it. When the film “Hairspray” came out I watched it in the cinema every day for a week, I loved it that much! The “Pitch Perfect” soundtrack has rarely left the CD player in my car since it first arrived in January. And I’m the only person I know who has done a full Harry Potter marathon (all 19.5 hours) in one day. In fact the less said about my overly passionate feelings for Harry Potter the better, I might lose some readers if they think this is a blog about the wizarding world.

But it isn’t just books and films that I get obsessed with, its other things too. When I joined the gym I’m currently a member of, I threw myself into a new exercise regime, worked out hard every day for eight days and then monumentally crashed and burned, throwing up mid workout completely exhausted. When I was at school (and even at uni) at the beginning of every academic year and new term, I would return to work with such fervency that I would make endless notes and spend twice the expected time on any piece of homework… for about a week, before again exhausted I would realise that that approach to study was unsustainable.

So I’ve established I’ve got a bit of an obsessive/addictive personality and fall in and out of love with things quite quickly, so what? Why am I writing a blog about it? Well, being completely consumed by something for a short time is fine, but when it comes to exercise/ diet/ work/ self-improvement, if the obsession fades we can be left feeling exhausted, disappointed, feeling like a failure and beating ourselves up.  This summer, as I’ve started a(nother!) health and diet kick I’ve been trying to balance my penchant for throwing myself into everything with living life on more of an even keel, allowing the obsession to ebb and flow without leaving me collapsed on the wayside. And if I’m honest, its really difficult!

Our society teaches us to live lives bouncing from one extreme to another. The country is either headed for total collapse or we are celebrating the Olympics/jubilee/royal baby and all that it is to be British. People are either complete nobodies or they are A-list celebrities. You’re on top of the world or in the pit of depression. No wonder I, and I guess others, struggle with finding a middle ground in life!

But what about God? Surely there’s no middle ground there, God asks for our whole lives, our whole hearts to be surrendered to him.. its kind of an all or nothing type thing. But how often in our spiritual lives do we go from worshipping on a mountain top, to meandering through the valley of darkness in the space of about three months? Its easy to feel good about your relationship with God in the summer in the midst of all the festivals, but come November when your soul survivor buzz has gone do we not sometimes do the same thing with God as so many January the first dieters do with the gym come February. A few years ago I heard someone say that some much older (wiser?) Christians were concerned over the emerging church (those under 25) because they were an experience fuelled people, creating an experience obsessed culture within the church. They questioned whether discipleship and spiritual discipline meant anything anymore when the younger members of the church were happy to pogo between mountain top experiences and wilderness encounters. Perhaps God is looking for more of a middle ground relationship with us. Perhaps true discipleship is knowing that you will still love and follow God on a mundane Wednesday in November, when life might not be brilliant but it definitely isn’t crap.

Let me sum all of this up and try to make a point. I’m by no means having a bash at being a passionate person, I am one of them and love people getting passionate and excited about things! I’m also not saying that it’s bad to go on a exercise/diet/health/work/self improvement kick, because of course it isn’t. And I am absolutely not saying that God doesn’t want us to take massive leaps in our faith or have experiences with him where we feel like we are on top of the world. I guess what I am doing is asking “what if?”. Throwing yourself completely into something is fantastic and if that excitement sticks, wow! But what if the passion wains somewhat and life gets in the way, as it so often tends to do, what happens then? Is there an emergency exit for safe disembarking, or are you just going to fly off the bandwagon and fall in a heap on the wayside? Do we not need to find a middle ground where we are able to live life on an even keel, allowing our passions to ebb and flow; allowing the messiness of life to happen without too many casualties and allowing us to rest, take stock and not beat ourselves up too much.

So today I pray for us all. I pray for the exhilarating, the soul crushing and the mundane; and that we would know God’s presence in all three. I pray that you would have things to be passionate and excited about and the courage to throw yourself into them, but I also pray that you would take note of your emergency exits, allowing you the opportunity of rest in the middle ground when you need it. And finally I thank God for being the constant in our lives, for being sustained, eternal and unchanging in a world that is anything but.

Lex xx

P.S. There is unapologetically no middle ground with the Harry Potter thing. That obsession is for life…always.

It’s that time of year again when I feel the need to write a blog about what I’m going to be doing next year. Just over a year has passed since I let people know about my year’s post at Thornton, and the time has marched on by as it always does! My plans for September have sorted themselves out in the last few weeks, but, as ever there is a story that leads up the point I’m at today. 

This year, in many ways, hasn’t been the easiest work wise. I missed Bridgebuilder more than I thought I would. I missed the insane schedule I kept while working with MKBT and studying at the same time and, at times this year, got incredibly bored. I developed a love hate relationship with teaching. I love the time I get to spend with my students, have lessons that I absolutely love and I adore sharing my love of all things Theology with young people. But I knew from the word go that teaching full time and forever is not where I want to be and struggled with certain aspects of the teacher/student relationship, as it seemed to jar so much with the way I naturally relate to young people. But far above any of these things is an issue within the school that has caused this year to be quite a dark experience; I can’t say any more on here but it has, at times, been pretty awful!! 

Gosh, that was a jolly way to begin wasn’t it?! But don’t worry cos it doesn’t end there. Yes there are aspects of this year that have been pretty crud, but they don’t negate the fact that Thornton is still a school I love, I’ve made wonderful friends, had some amazing experiences this year and have grown up (yeah I know!) a lot. So during this year, pretty much since September, I’ve been stuck between a rock and a lovely place… Loving life the majority of the time and then getting occasionally smacked in the head with a rock. 

So where does God, my career and future in ministry feature in all of this? Well back in September I assumed that my time at Thornton would be what it was intended to be when I got the job, a stop gap and breathing space for a year while I decided and discerned what the future held. But it became clear by the Christmas holidays that God maybe had other ideas. People started talking about how they didn’t want me to leave the school and more than that I started talking about how I didn’t want to leave the school. I decided to push some doors, January came and went and I wrote to the deputy and head basically telling them that I would love the opportunity to stay if there was a job for me. But there seemed to be no joy coming from that, the issue at school that was making life so hard was still raging on and I decided that actually the message was coming loud and clear that come July it would be time to move on, not that I wanted to though! At the thought of leaving this school, these girls and my friends that I loved my heart broke a little bit each time. I didn’t want to leave I just seemed to being told that it was right to. 

But if only it were that easy!! In April, as I started to properly search for a job I couldn’t find anything that A) I wanted to do, B) I was qualified to do, C) I felt called to do, and D) Was close enough to my family (the promised addition of a niece/nephew come November was pulling me towards MK). I was so confused! I didn’t understand why, if the message was so clear that I shouldn’t be staying at Thornton, there was nothing out there for me. It got scarier and scarier that by May half term I had six weeks of my contract left and no prospect of anything to follow it up. 

Towards the end of half term I finally found a job that ticked all the boxes for me and I knew that I had to apply for it. During a lunchtime in the first week back i read an email inviting me for an interview, during the afternoon I met with my head and spoke about my reference, and by 6:00 that evening everything had changed and I was asked to stay at Thornton and accepted! Crazy times hey!? The details are still being smoothed out, but the long and the short of it is that I will be staying in boarding and the issue that has made life so intolerable will be resolved come September. 

This whole saga has taught me so many lessons about faith, trust and God’s timing. During half term I kept being pulled back t the quote that titles today’s blog, and at that point I reasoned that it meant my finding a job would come but rather late in the day for my neurotic need to be organised! But I now realise that it meant so much more; that I had to have the faith in God that A) he knew my heart’s desire and had it sorted, but more importantly B) it would come at the time that was right for him. Certain things needed to shift and be put in place before he could move to prepare my place here for September, and man when he moved did he move!! 

The day after everything changed I was reminded of the story of Abraham being told to sacrifice Isaac. Now God never actually wanted Abraham to murder his adored son, but he needed to know that Abraham’s faith in God was bigger than his love for Isaac. And it wasn’t enough for Abraham to simply say that he he trusted in God, cos without action those words are pretty empty. With my lips I was saying that I trusted in God to provide a place for me come September, but with my attitude and actions I was communicating that I felt forgotten about and was relying entirely on my own ability; not quite the faith I was professing audibly!! I realised that I needed to have the faith to apply for a job that I actually wanted and show that I was willing to follow God and leave the school I loved before I could be told that I was actually allowed to stay. Saying you have the trust to do a leap of faith is easy when your feet are on solid ground, but when you’re in the air those words need to be followed up with action! 

So today I thank my father God again for holding his perfect plan for me, for knowing the path my life will take, but allowing me to learn while I travel that path. And I also pray for us all that we would have faith. Faith to move mountains, faith to part seas and faith to back up our words with action. Because faith in God includes faith in his timing.

Lex xx