The Right Shoes

Lois, my 20 year old daughter, declared recently that she wanted to start running. I offered to buy her her first pair of running shoes.

‘You need running shoes?’ she asked. ‘Yes of course’ I said.

‘Why? What’s wrong with my plimsolls?’ I gave a wry smile the way only Dad’s can.

A couple of hours later we were at Advanced Performance, the excellent running shop in Peterborough. It was only then that the full realisation of what was needed began to hit Lois. The first thing we saw was a guy in a shirt and tie running around the car park wearing new running shoes.

‘I’m not doing that! No way!’

‘But you have to if you want the right shoes. They won’t sell you any shoes without you trying them out to make sure they are right for you.’

‘Well I’m not running around the car park for any one!’

Half an hour later and with about ten pairs tried out and videoed on a running machine to check for pronation or supination (fancy terms referring to how your foot strikes the ground) and Lois was running round the car park on the way to owning her first pair of real running shoes.

Why all the bother? Because all our feet are different. Not just in size, but in the way we run. The wrong shoes, a lack of support to the ankle and you are on your way to severe muscle injuries and damaged knees.

What are we wearing as we run the race of life? Have we got the right shoes? The right support to our own personal race of life? What are we trusting in? Who are we trusting in? Who’s there to support us, listen to us, encourage us? Make sure you’re wearing the right shoes.

Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we're in. Hebrews12:1-2

Restore a Town. Transform a Nation.

You drive for 5 hours from Johannesburg, through the mountains and over the Swaziland border. What greets you is quite breathtaking. Bulembu is an old mining town. When the mines closed nearly ten years ago, the 10,000 population moved out. Bulembu became a ghost town. Until someone had a vision of what could be.

Today a Christian trust owns the whole town. All 4,000 acres. The population is back to 2,000. There are successful industries in wood production, water bottling, honey production, a bakery, a dairy, successful tourism. All from nothing.

Most of all, there are 200 orphans saved. Bulembu has become a centre for rescued children. With the worst HIV rate in the world at around 40%, and an average age expectancy of just over 30, Swaziland is slowly dying. Children die daily. Bulembu is changing the statistics.

Their aim is to be a sustainable community for 2000 children by 2020. Their shirts carry the slogan ‘experience transformation’. And they are. In restoring a town, they are transforming a nation.

In the Footsteps of an Eight Year Old

Today I walked in the footsteps of an eight year old.

I started at the primary school, looking into the window where he began school at five years of age. Elsie sat next to him that morning. She cried all day. He ignored her.

On past the school to the shops. Two are still there. The newsagents where his mum bought him his first plastic farm animals. And the chip shop- fish and chips on a Friday night.


Down the back streets, past the allotments, past where he fell off his bike. And there it is, home - Milford Avenue, Flixton, Manchester. The house he lived in from early childhood to age eight. Not much has changed. A new fence on the side. The paint is a different colour.

It’s the first time I have walked those streets in forty-eight years. All sorts of memories came flooding back. Running through the streets with my friends. Stopping pretty much anywhere, in any house, to ask for a drink of orange squash. Community was strong there. Sad memories too. I found myself grieving for the loss of my mum. It was her hand I held as I walked those streets all those years ago.

The path has taken many a turn from Milford Avenue. Birmingham, Leicester, South London, Crawley, Peterborough. And I’ve been grateful for every step. Grateful to God. Grateful to my friends and family who have shared the journey. If you are reading this as someone who has journeyed with me, thank you for your company.

And there’s more. There’s a path ahead. I can’t see where it leads, but like the days of my early childhood, I hold a hand. No longer my mum’s hand, but my Lord’s. He treads every step with me. He can see what I cannot. He knows every rock and boulder we need to negotiate. He leads, I follow. One day we will reach home together.

A 17th Century Nun's Prayer

Lord Thou knowest better than I myself know that I am growing older and will some day be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody; helpful but not bossy.
With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest, O Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me the wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the days go by.
I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for an improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint- some of them are so hard to live with- but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people.
And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.

Who's the customer?

I was part way through an 11 mile walk along the coast west of Dolgellau when I arrived at the George III Hotel in Penmaenpool. It was about 11am, so time for a coffee.

ME: Hi, do you serve coffee?

PROPRIETOR: Yes sir.

M: One coffee please.

P: Yes sir. Anything else?

M: Oooh yes please! I’d love a piece of toast.

P: We don’t do food.

M: What do you mean? You’re a hotel!

P: Yes sir. Food is at lunchtime.

M: So why ask if I wanted anything else?!

P: Kitkat? Mars Bar?

M: I’ll just have the coffee thanks.

A great walk but not sure I’ll be going back to the hotel……

Food for the Soul

Just back from a short break in Dolgellau, Wales. Just on my own- a time to reflect on changes in my life, a time to listen and a time to enjoy the beautiful scenery.

Someone once described it as food for the soul. I'll let you look at the photo's and see if you agree...

Lost voices

It's 'no' to AV. With that decision, Britain has recommited itself to two-party rule. Or more likely, one and a half party rule. Years of Tory leadership with an occasional look-in for Labour.

Instead of reflecting modern day Britain, politics will continue with exaggerated statements, unaccountable politicians and the potential for extreme swings in political leadership.

Apologies to the Greens, the nationalists, the Christian parties and the independents. Britain has decided to continue ignoring you- and ignoring the hundreds of thousands of voters you represent. No change there of course. But it could have been different.

As for the moderately successful Liberal Democrats, any power they have is likely to be given them by the Tories or Labour in order to keep the main parties in power.

Britain has shown itself to be conservative with a small 'c'. Which means Conservatives with a big 'c' are the obvious winners.

I'm not sure there will be another referendum on voting in my lifetime. A lost opportunity. And a lost voice for so many in our not so democratic democracy.