A - Z Challenge - I: Inadequate

Another repost - I'm trying to tell myself that this is not cheating, that it is still a way of reconnecting with my writing, but I fear I'm kidding myself. I can't believe that I used to have so many ideas and so much time. But - maybe that makes this post altogether more relevant to Right Now as well as Then. 

Maybe.

(First published as 'How to be a Small, Inadequate, Mighty Warrior').

Gideon had a word with me the other day.
I'm sure you've met Gideon. His story can be found in the Book of Judges in the Bible. 

I am drawn to Gideon. He felt small and inadequate, and I know that feeling.

Judges 6:12.  God sent an angel to chat with Gideon and the first thing the angel said was, 'The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.'

At this point I imagine Gideon looked behind him, because clearly there must be a mighty warrior nearby that he hadn't noticed. He wasn't feeling very mighty, or warrior-like; he was feeling defeated and weak and insignificant. What's more, he didn't feel particularly that God was on his side, but he rallies and very politely comes over all cynical:

'If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders...?'

Gideon was quietly doing his thing, minding his own business, and God came and told him to stop doing his thing, and go do a great thing.

'Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?'  

What about that? The clue is in 'Am I not sending you?' If Mighty God was telling Gideon that he was equal to the task of fighting the Midianites, then he probably was. Of course, this is easy for me to say. I'm not the one hiding from these same people and wondering what on earth is going on.

Gideon argues:

"'But Lord,' Gideon asked, 'How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.'"

You've got the wrong guy.

But God is patient and reassuring.

'Pull yourself together, Gideon. Blimey, how many times do I have to tell you? I am GOD. If I tell you you're going to be Superman, then you're going to be Superman. For Pete's sake, man up.'

Or not quite like that. God tells him that he would be with him.

Time and time again Gideon asked for proof that it was God, proof that God definitely was talking to him, proof that he'd heard God correctly. Did God get impatient? No, God humours him. Did God get a bit annoyed that he kept asking for a sign? Nope. God gave him signs.

God is endlessly patient. But that isn't the whole story. Of course, there's the bit about Gideon's defeat of the Midianites, the ongoing chronicles of the people of God and the glory of the Almighty shining through humble servants, there's that. But the thing that struck me is how God stoops down to choose ordinary people to do the extraordinary. When those ordinary people have hangups ('But I'm weak! How can I do this thing for you?') or insecurities ('I am the least in my family!') He reassures and equips.

God says: I will be with you. I'm going to hold your hand.

Go in the strength you have.

God didn't make Gideon feel strong. He didn't double the size of his muscles, or give him a couple of tanks and a huge army - He simply said, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?'

If God is sending us, we'll be alright. He wanted Gideon to trust that he would be equipped when he needed equipping. Not right up front, able to see how things would play out, no surprises; to step out, just as he was, knowing that the Lord was fighting with him.

God wasn't talking to the person behind him who had bigger biceps and a bit more charisma.  I don't think it's any different today.  God says to me and you, 'I am with you.'

Doesn't He say to us, 'Go in the strength you have?' and, 'My power is made perfect in weakness.' (2 Cor 12:9) Doesn't He ask us to step out in faith, no knowing all the answers, with the knowledge that He is beside us and will give us what we need when we need it?

Forget the woman on the other side of church who is more beautiful than I am, more confident. Forget the other folks who are publishing their books and getting great reviews. Forget the guy who writes the blog that has so many more hits than mine. God has something else up His sleeve for them that's none of my business.

There is a plan just for me. God knows what He's doing when He asks someone to do something.

Sounds straightforward, doesn't it?

Funny how the Bible has been around so long and yet nothing changes. I compare myself with others just as Gideon did and I find myself wanting, just as he did. I wonder why I should try anything when that mean little snipy voice tells me that it's been done better by someone else already. I wonder why I should even entertain the possibility that God has a calling for me, little me, pathetic little me... just as Gideon did.

I'm not saying that I am a spiritual giant of the stature of the Old Testament heroes. But what I heard as I read the story of Gideon this morning is that the Biblical Big Guns had cold feet too. Even they doubted themselves and felt small and insignificant sometimes.

I so often feel ill-equipped for the task of living as God would have me live just on a day to day basis. If God has something for me to do, or say, or write, or tell people about, then I'm quite sure I'll worry about that too. Why me? How, me? And yet the answers are right here.

'Am I not sending you?'

If the Lord God Almighty is asking, then I'm dancing. If He's sending, then I'm going. Because He also says, 'I'll be with you.'

There's no safer place than where God is. Even on a battlefield (and my life sometimes feels just like a battlefield). But look what Gideon did. He defeated the Midianites, just as God said he would, even if he was from the weakest tribe, even if he was the least in his family. 

God was right. How 'bout that?

So when I feel defeated by circumstances and inadequate and afraid, I should remember that God's power is perfect in weakness. Well, that's something I can do: if weakness is required, I can provide it!  In buckets. When I am weak, He are strong. If God is by my side, and I am hearing His voice, then I have sufficient strength for the next step. He will provide all I need.

I need faith, Lord. Always more faith. Sometimes believing is hard.

I need to hear the voice that told Gideon, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?

Amen, Father.

Getting out of the boat. Or not.

"'Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. 'It's a ghost,' they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: 'Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid.'  

'Lord, if it's you,' Peter replied, 'tell me to come to you on the water.'

'Come,' he said. 

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, 'Lord, save me!'
Immediately, Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. 

'You of little faith,' he said, 'why did you doubt?'   

And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, 'Truly you are the Son of God.'"

That's from the Matthew 14.

Peter gets out of the boat to walk towards Jesus?  Lord, if you are who you say you are, call me to walk on the water! Lovely, impetuous, impulsive Peter blurts it out and Jesus has a little smile and says, 'Go on then. Come.' 

And he does. At least for a few glorious moments, Peter is walking on water, eyes fixed on his master and friend, Jesus Christ, he doesn't sink beneath the swell, he walks On The Water, which as we know, is impossible. It's not possible, to walk on water. 

But he does. Not because of who he is, but because of who Jesus is. Tell me to come to you, and I will, because you can do amazing things. You can empower me to do amazing things. Me! I trust you so much, that if you ask me to do something, you know it's possible, and I only have to do what you ask me to do. 

That's what Peter was saying. So Jesus said, 'Come,' and Peter came. On the water. 

What happened next is by the way. Much has been written about why Peter started to sink, including my own take on it, which you can catch up on here, if you feel so inclined. 

I've been imagining myself in the boat. Me, in all my hesitant INFJ over-thinking splendour. 

Its still dark; before first light and the wind is getting up. We're all in the boat but the waves are big and it's getting a bit rough out there on the lake. Jesus isn't with us, because he went off doing that Lone Man on a Hill thing that he does now and then and we've learned to give him some space. The boat is getting tossed around a little when suddenly there's this apparition coming towards us. 

'It's a ghost!' someone shouts. That probably wouldn't have been me, I don't think. I wouldn't have been as dramatic as that. I'd have been at the back gripping the side of the boat and staring as the others point. What on earth is that? 

'Calm down, calm down, it's me.' Oh, it's Jesus. 

We all exhale a sigh of relief. It's Jesus. Thank God for that; a ghost indeed! Who said it was a ghost? Numpty.

You're missing the point, though, He's walking on the water. On it. Blimey, this man is something else. We've never seen anyone walk on water before. 

I'd have gazed in awe and wonder. Oh, Lord Jesus. You are amazing, and you're my friend. How can this be? 

I wonder if it would have occurred to me to ask what Peter asked? No, I can't imagine it. I always wait to be asked. I always hang back, afraid to be the one to push myself forward, reluctant to invite attention. Peter wasn't like me at all. 

'Lord if it's you, tell me to come and I'll walk on water too!' 

'Alright. It's a deal' 

Jesus must have been so delighted at Peter's outrageous request. He saw that Peter understood something about who he was. I'd like to think there was a chance I'd have grasped it too, but unlike Peter I'd have needed much more processing tome. 

Much more time. I am not a decisive person. Not known for my spontaneity, my happy-go-lucky attitude, my impulsiveness. Nope, I'm a planner. If Jesus had sent me an email the week before telling me how he saw that evening panning out, I might have been in with a chance. But this one unfolded quickly and unexpectedly.

There I'd be, towards the back of the boat, looking at Jesus with his broad smile full of affection, pride, confidence; at Peter scrambling over the side of the boat and lowering himself towards the water. My heart would have been beating so hard, and yet it would have been hard to breathe.

Oh, me too. 

Can I come? Lord, I want to walk towards you. I believe that if you call me, you'll make sure I don't sink. If you think I can walk on water, I believe that I can - I only have to keep my eyes on you. It's not me, it's you; I can do anything if you are near me. If you are there with your arms outstretched to receive me, if you are here, I am safe, even when doing something strange and impossible like walking on a stormy lake. 

And yet I am afraid. My legs won't move. How did Peter act so quickly on this revelation and yet I am here paralysed into inactivity, even though I want more than anything to do what my reckless friend is doing? 

Should I follow? Shout, 'Me too, Lord!' and hurl myself over the side after him? What if the invitation was only for Peter, because it was his idea? What if Jesus doesn't see me and he doesn't realise I'm there; I won't know what to do. I shall just dangle off the side of the boat until I drop off or someone hauls me in again, exasperated.

Should I ask permission? 'Lord, please can I come, too?' What if he doesn't hear me? Or says no? I'll be so embarrassed. Everyone will think I'm so presumptuous - clearly it's ok for Peter because it's the kind of thing he'd do, but me? Clearly getting too big for my boots, thinking that I can walk on water; ridiculous. What if I try and I can't do it? Can I even get over the side, in this swell, with my dodgy knee? I could easily fall and make a real fool of myself. There I'd be, splashing about fully clothed, ruining Peter's special moment.  What if I try and fail? I need to do something, I so want to be part of this miracle I'm witnessing... Should I go? What if I need rescuing and everyone laughs, or thinks how stupid I am, or worse, gets annoyed that I cause so much trouble? 

I am frozen, watching the spectacle unfold. What if I follow Peter, and then everyone does? What if Jesus was just taking a short cut to the boat in a low-key sort of way and then all because of me, everyone jumps out of the boat and we're all there skipping around on the water and Jesus is rolling his eyes and saying, 'Come on, guys, get back in the boat, it's been a long day.' What if we all leap out enthusiastically and we all go under? Jesus has to spend half an hour fishing us out when all he wants is a rest and a bite to eat? 

Look! Peter's actually doing it! Look at that! Jesus can walk on water, because he's God, but Peter?! He trusted Jesus and he's now actually defying gravity! It's impossible! Oh, this is amazing. Oh, Peter, Peter! No wonder Jesus says that you're going to be the foundation of his church. Look what you've done! I am in awe. Oh look at this; think what you're witnessing; this is huge. 

You missed your opportunity, didn't you? That could have been you, but it's too late now. 

You blew it. 

Your part in the story is as the one who stood and gaped and didn't do anything; in fact you're not in this story, at all, are you?  Look at the Lord's face. He's so proud of Peter - wouldn't you just love to have Jesus look at you like that?  You want that more than anything, don't you? Well, Peter got there first, while you were still wondering and faffing and debating with yourself. Sometimes you've just got to act, to step out in faith; that's what Peter did, isn't it?  Right in front of your eyes. While you were still thinking what to do, weighing up the pros and cons, he just got on with it. And now look. He's made the Lord happy. 

You so wish you were Peter right now, don't you? This wonderful thing has just happened and you're feeling all churned up inside. 

That would have been me. 

And yet, a friend told me the other day that she thinks that the Lord wants me to know that although I doubt the depth of my faith, he doesn't.  That despite my convictions that I'd hang back in the boat, fearful and filled with confusion, in her picture I was climbing over the side with a big smile. 

Lord Jesus, let it be true. Give me the chance? 

**

I was going to leave this blog post right here, but I find myself wondering if that is a sensible prayer to be praying. What if God does indeed give me the chance to step out of the boat, whatever that means? It certainly won't be a physical boat in the centre of Queen's Park Boating Lake, but some significant boat in my spiritual journey. I often feel stifled, stalled - as if I'm revving in neutral, if the metaphor can stand both of those at the same time. 

Getting out of the boat sounds scary. Maybe you need to be a Peter kind of person to do it. Maybe I should just stay where I'm safe a bit longer. Maybe if I say, 'Lord, call me and I'll come,' he'll say, 'Alright then, come!' and then... and then, I'd have to... get out of the boat...

Maybe there is a boat, and perhaps I should get out of it, with my eyes fixed on Jesus. 

Maybe it's time. 

I'll let you know. 

Confidence and perseverance

Hebrews 10:36-37

'So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.' 

Lord, this same passage has found me via four - no - five different routes over the past week. I'm starting to think you're trying to tell me something.

I catch on quick. 

I'm just not sure quite what to make of it, though.  I sometimes wish you'd be a bit more obvious about your messages. I worry that I'll miss it completely, or if I do catch the general drift, that I won't pick up on the proper significance of what you're telling me. I don't think I'm the sharpest tool in the box when it comes to nuance. I could do with the neon finger writing in the sky but that's not your style, is it?

So. What confidence am I throwing away?  The context of the verse is that Paul (assuming it was Paul who wrote the book of Hebrews - people seem to be squabbling over who the author might be - was it Paul?) is writing to the persecuted church and telling them to hang on to their faith even when it's hard, because in God's own time (in this life or the next?) there will be a great reward. When the race is run, as Paul said elsewhere, good things will happen, because you don't break your promises. I know that you don't.

So. I'm not considering abandoning my faith. What if 'confidence' means what I usually take it to mean and you're telling me not lose confidence? Don't be discouraged. This would be good, because I've been feeling discouraged lately. I'm sure you've noticed that I've been feeling a bit droopy recently.

Here's the thing. I wish your timing was the same as mine. I've had a few plans mapped out in the last few months and I thought you were on board. Or rather, ahem, I thought I was on board your Plan.  I thought we were of one mind. And yet, if we'd been singing from the same hymn sheet, ha ha, things would have happened by now. Or at least I thought they would. When things don't seem to be going the way I think they should I start to doubt that I understood you right in the first place, or whether I'm up to the job I think you have for me, or whether any of all this is worth bothering with in the first place. 

'So don't throw away your confidence...'  Are you telling me that it's all in hand?  Are you telling me to wait and see, sit tight, just keep on keeping on even though things aren't the way I thought they'd be?  

Alright. I trust you. I know that I can't get anywhere under my own strength. I know that even when from my perspective, opportunities are drying up and possibilities are diminishing, this is not necessarily how you're seeing things. Your timing is perfect and you never, ever, arrive late or mess things up. 

So if you're telling me to stick with the programme, that's fine with me. I'm down with that, as they say. I'll take every bit of encouragement you've got, because sometimes it's a hard thing to stay optimistic when this world is telling me that it'll never happen...who am I to imagine...?  

'You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.'

This is a bit less confusing. Don't give up. Heard that before. There are times when those words energise and inspire me and times when they just depress me. Keep hoping. Keep plodding. Keep trying. Keep going. Even when I'd rather just take the line of least resistance and climb under the duvet. 

Persevere. 

Persist, carry on, continue, keep going, struggle on, hammer away, be persistent, be determined, see something through, keep at it, press on, be tenacious, stand one's ground, stand firm, hold on, go the distance, stay the course, soldier on, hang in there. Don't you love the thesaurus?

Antonym: give up.

So, don't give up. 

Don't give up when people don't understand and when they criticise and when they mock. When people think I should be doing other things and don't approve of what I do instead. When I focus on you and other people are jumping up and down and waving their arms in an attempt to distract me. When I do what you tell me to do even when it makes me unpopular. Keep going when I get it spectacularly wrong and come crashing down; keep going when I'm not sure what to do next. Keep asking for enough light for the next step. Always the next step. The next step is enough, though I so want to see the whole way to where we're going. 

Maybe it's better that I don't...

I need to trust where you're leading me, even if it's not where I thought we were going. Even when it's not where I wanted to go. It's a bit scary. Will you take another look at my plan?

Promises. Because you never break them. If you make a promise, you pay out. You don't change the goalposts and you don't welsh on the deal. If you promise, I can take it to the bank. 

I like the sound of receiving what you've promised me.  I hold in my heart some pretty specific promises (if I've understood them properly; can we talk this through sometime, please?) and I am so looking forward to the day when I get my promises.  Still a bit blurry about this world or the next, but I'm hoping for this.

So I am going to hold onto my confidence. My confidence, not in me, in what I can do, but in you. I am fully confident that you are God; that you are in control, that your timing is perfect, and that you never ever go back on a deal.

I'm going to keep going because you told me to. Because I want to follow you, and you're leading me somewhere. I'm going to trust that you know the way better than I do. I'm going to keep trying.

Thankyou. For being there. For a word of encouragement just when I need it. And for making sure that I didn't miss it by sending it five times.

You do know me, don't you?

Go in the strength you have

Morning, God. For about another half hour, anyway, then it'll be lunchtime. Another opportunity for me to put off the things that need doing and go and do something else instead. I am the Queen of Procrastination. 

I've been away for a few days and couldn't get Internet access where I was. How appalling is this? I  have been separated from my email. Facebook was closed to me. And all the myriad of daily devotionals that stoke me up for each day were forming an orderly queue and chatting among themselves outside my inbox until such a time as they were allowed in. 

I am now home, I am plugged in, the Wifi is doing its thing, and the processor is whirring. I have a million new messages. Pingpingping.

I now realise that I am, perhaps, on too many mailing lists.  Still. 

I settled down in front of my little computer and began to browse through the mail. Interesting stuff. Some of it challenging, some inspiring, some a bit too high-brow for the way I'm feeling. I bookmarked a few. One stood out. 

Gideon. 

I like Gideon. Gideon felt small and inadequate. I know that feeling.

Judges 6: 12.  You sent an angel to chat with Gideon and the first thing the angel said was, 'The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.'

I wonder if Gideon looked behind him at that point. He wasn't feeling very mighty, or warrior-like. He was hiding, actually.  He was feeling defeated and small and insignificant. What's more, he didn't feel particularly that you were with him.

'If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders...?'

Gideon was quietly doing his thing, minding his own business, and you came and told him to stop doing his thing, and go do a great thing.

'Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?'
Judges 6: 14

What about that? The clue is in 'Am I not sending you?' I think. If you, Mighty God, were telling Gideon that he was up to the job of fighting the Midianites, then he probably was. Of course, this is easy for me to say. I'm not the one hiding from these same people and wondering what on earth is going on. Gideon argued with you, didn't he?

"'But Lord,' Gideon asked, 'How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.'"

You've got the wrong guy. No, you were patient and reassuring.

'Pull yourself together, Gideon. How many times do I have to tell you? I am God. If I tell you you're going to be Superman, then you're going to be Superman. Time to man up.'

Or not quite like that. You told him that you would be with him. Time and time again Gideon asked for proof that it was you, proof that you definitely were talking to him, proof that he'd heard you correctly. Did you get impatient? No, you humoured him. Did you get a bit annoyed that he kept asking you for a sign? Nope. You gave him signs.

You are endlessly patient. But that isn't the whole story. Of course, there's the little story about Gideon's defeat of the Midianites, the ongoing chronicles of the people of God and the glory of you shining through your servant, there's that. But the thing that struck me today is how you stoop down to choose ordinary people to do the extraordinary. When those ordinary people have hangups ('But I'm weak! How can I do this thing for you?' or insecurities ('I am the least in my family!') you reassure and equip.

You say, I will be with you. I'm going to hold your hand.

Go in the strength you have.

You didn't make Gideon feel strong. You didn't double the size of his muscles, or give him a couple of tanks and a huge army - you simply said, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?'

If you're sending us, we'll be alright. You wanted Gideon to trust you to equip him when he needed equipping. To step out, just as he was, knowing that the Lord was fighting with him. You weren't talking to the person behind him who had bigger biceps and a bit more charisma.  I don't think it's any different today.

Don't you say to me, 'I am with you.'? Don't you say to me, 'Go in the strength you have?' and also, 'My power is made perfect in weakness.' (2 Cor 12:9) Don't you ask me to step out in faith with the knowledge that you are beside me?

Not the woman on the other side of church who is more beautiful than I am, slimmer and more confident. You've got something else up her sleeve for her that's none of my business. You have a plan for me that I'm just perfect for. You know what you're doing when you're asking.

Sigh. So hard.

So nothing changes. I compare myself with others just as Gideon did and I find myself wanting, just as he did. I wonder why I should try anything when a little voice tells me that it's been done better by someone else already. I wonder why I should even entertain the possibility that you have a calling for me, little me, pathetic little me... just as Gideon did.

I'm not saying that you want me to come down a mountain and defeat an army. I'm not saying that I am a spiritual giant of the stature of the Old Testament heroes. But what I heard as I read the story of Gideon this morning is that the Biblical Big Guns had cold feet too. Even they doubted themselves and felt small and insignificant sometimes. All human life is in the Bible indeed.

I so often feel ill-equipped for the task of living as you would have me live just on a day to day basis. If you have something else for me, something for me to do, or say, or write, or tell people about, then I'm quite sure I'll worry about that too. Why me? How, me? And yet you've answered it before.

'Am I not sending you?'

This is what I want. If the Lord God Almighty is asking, then I'm dancing. If he's sending, then I'm going. Because you also say, 'I'll be with you.'

There's no safer place than where you are. Even on a battlefield. And my life sometimes feels like a battlefield. But look what Gideon did. He defeated the Midianites, just as you said he would, even if he was from the weakest tribe, and the least in his family.  You chose him.

So when I feel defeated by circumstances and inadequate and afraid, I should remember that your power is perfect in weakness. If weakness is required, I can provide it!  In buckets. When I am weak, you are strong. If you are by my side, and I am hearing your voice, then I have sufficient strength for the next step. You will provide what I need. I need faith, Lord. Always more faith.

I need only hear your voice which told Gideon, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?

Amen, Father. I find it so hard to believe, sometimes.

Bury this deep in my soul, will you?

Old friends, new friends and forgotten friends

Today Elizabeth found out what class she will be in next year. She's going to leave the safe, warm, comfortable, nurturing environment of her year one class and spread her wings into year two. I'm hoping, of course, that her year two teacher might offer a safe, warm, comfortable and nurturing environment too, but leaving the classroom she's been in for the past year will be a huge wrench for me as her teacher has been exceptional and wonderful. Lizzie has come on in leaps and bounds, hasn't she? When I think of the diffident, fearful child she was a year ago it is a truly magnificent change in her. I must write a nice letter. 

But... they've split her class up into different classes and she isn't with any of her friends. They've done it by age, and so by an accident of birth my Elizabeth is off to Red class when all her close pals are off to Blue class. Down the corridor little sister Katy will be settling in to Purple class, but that's by the way. 

I have mixed feelings about Lizzie's segregation from her buddies; there have been some incidents this year that have upset her so it might be that away from certain children she might get a chance to be herself a bit more and not be in anyone's shadow, but at six it does seem hard to split them up from the childish alliances that they've only really recently managed to make. 

I can remember my friend from infant school. Her name was Tara. I wonder what she's doing now. I imagine you know. Does her nose still run all the time? Funnily enough I remember thinking she was great and being in awe of her, but I can't remember for the life of me what she looked like. I don't have the first idea what happened to her, but I do know that our age six friendship didn't stand the test of time. By junior school it was long gone.

So maybe I should learn from this not to allow Elizabeth's friendship ups and downs to worry me too much. Today she is a bit subdued because all her mates are in Blue class and she's in Red, but she's not devastated. She likes her new teacher and is feeling all grown up as she is in Top Class now. Next year she'll move to a different school completely, so she is indeed at the moment a Big Fish in a Small Pond. Her excitement is greater than her disappointment. It's my anxiety, then, not hers. Why do I put myself through it?

You should have seen the looks on the faces of the mums outside school as they compared notes on who's little darling was in which class and with whom. (Well, alright, you did). There were tears and scowls and smiles and jumping up and down (and from the grown ups too). We all just want them to be happy. It's just that we think we know best how to make them happy, not the teachers, not the headmistress, and in my case, not you. If you'd just consult me a bit more, maybe we'd all be happier? Or maybe not. 

Lord, you know how far Lizzie has come since last year. Please rain blessings down on her wonderful teacher who has been so encouraging, perceptive and loving this year and who took me on one side this morning to ask me how Elizabeth took the news and to explain that she'd watched her at a playtime in her new group and thought that she would be OK as she seemed happy and was mixing well. Lord, be close to my little girl and help her to know that she is so beautiful, so clever, so bright, so vivid, so interesting, unique. Very, totally, completely unique (ha ha). 

Thankyou for her brain and her vivacity and her curiosity. Help her to grow more and more in confidence in her own abilities and also in her own attractiveness. Help her to see that she is worth knowing. Help her to shake off some of the inevitable cruel comments that have wounded her. Let your flame burn in her so brightly that she lights up the room with all that she is. Help me to encourage her and not undermine her. Help me to rein in my critical nature and let her blossom, even if it does mean a lot of clearing up afterwards. 

Father, as we go into the school holidays, give us all peace and anticipation of the new school year, not dread. As Katy leaves nursery in a few days, help her to look forward to being at Big School and not fear it. Give Lizzie kindness and tenderness as she talks about school with her little sister and, please, Lord Jesus, in your mercy let Lizzie play with Kate once or twice at playtime because Katy is counting on it so much. 

And me. Lord, you know how far I've come this year in my battle with my inferiority complex in the gaggle of gorgeous mums at the school gates. I am so much more relaxed (though I do still a) feel more comfortable in sunglasses and b) try to arrive just as the children are coming out and dash off as soon as I've grabbed Lizzie). Thankyou for some lovely friendly people that I've met, and one friendship from twenty years ago that has been rekindled because of the school run. As I prepare to meet a whole host of new mums as Katy starts school, Lord, again lift me up so that I can rise to the occasion and not run away and hide. 

Don't let my girls be lonely, Lord. Show them how to be a good friend so that they might make good friends. 

You are the best friend anyone could have. Show us all how to be more like you.