My Grandma

Everyone has two types of Grandmother: The nice one and the strict one, or at least I certainly did!

My nice Grandma is cuddly, buying sweets when my parents had previously denied me them, giving me money when I didn't need it and baking wonderful cakes. My strict Grandma didn't do any of those things. In fact, the closest I ever got to a thoughtful gift was the ability to choose a Bible of my choice for my sixteenth birthday. I already had four bibles but I grasped the oppurtunity as this was a vast improvement on the most common Christmas gift I received, blank video tapes - a gift I had to contend with two Christmas' in a row.

I'm not the best at relationships with members of my external family. It doesn't help that there are so many of us (I am one of seventeen cousins) or that we live at such different corners of the country. Modern technology and social networking has been a great help for the cousins as we all attend different universities and begin new jobs. Unfortunately, my grandparents aren't as technologically savvy, and keeping in contact with them has been much harder.

I recently went to stay with my 'strict' Grandma. In all honesty, it was an arrangement of initial convenience -I had planned a weekend with some friends, and staying with my Grandparents gave me free accommodation. Prior to leaving, I can't say that staying with my Grandparents was the part of the weekend I was most excited about.

However, I think that the weekend I spent with my Grandparents was, in actual fact, one of the best weekends I've had there in a long time. I felt welcomed into a warm loving and hospitable Christian home (warm being a rarity with my money saving grandparents). I was given plenty of food (again, a rarity with my grandmother) and even a front door key! I even attended church with them on Sunday; TWICE.

At my grandparents church that Sunday evening, my presumptions of my Grandma were drastically changed. Sitting alone after the service, in an unfamiliar and slightly odd church, I was approached by a gentle, quiet old lady.
'I haven't seen you before. Are you new?' She asked.
I replied that I was just visiting, and explained who I was. Much to my surprise, when I later pointed out who my Grandparents were, I was astonished at her response.
'Ah, Hannah. It's lovely to meet you. I'm in a prayer triplet with your Grandma. We pray for you very regularly. It's wonderful to finally put a face to the name'.

My respect for my Grandmother suddenly rocketed. I had no idea that this woman, who previously I had perceived to be judgemental and uncaring was totally the opposite - she just didn't need to tell everyone about it. I was humbled by the knowledge that all this time, whilst I have strongly disliked her, she has continued to pray for me. And equally humbled that a woman of her age is such an awesome woman of faith, regularly meeting with a prayer triplet and remaining accountable.

I have alot to learn from those older than me. From those a few years my senior to those reaching the end of their lives, I know so little about life, about faith, about God and about following Him. I want to be a woman of faith like my Grandma. And I want to be humble, like her. I might not dig her choice of Christmas presents, but I definitely dig faith like this.

I might just go and pay a visit again.

Passionate about Jesus

There is an annoying box underneath my profile picture on my Facebook page. I don't think anyone really knows why it is there - but it is. The content amongst my many Facebook acquaintances ranges from the obscene to the philosophical, but all largely detailing some aspect of the individuals life that it is crucially important that I know prior to meeting them.

I have a continual love hate relationship with Facebook, Twitter and any other time wasting/social networking/communication/'important feature in your life' device. I love that I am able to communicate easily with people who live far away or that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with. I hate that it swallows my time, is unashamedly addictive and ironically encourages me to keep in touch with people that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with.
My little box on my Facebook page reads: 'I am passionate about Jesus Christ. I have 30 pairs of shoes. In my spare time i like to watch rugby, read and play my guitar called Eric.'

It is not crucially important that those who don't know me read this information. What is important is that I am passionate about Jesus. And I want people to know this via any means possible, Facebook, Twitter, the whole social networking community.

This summer has been a massive summer in my life. I experienced life changing events on my first missions trip to Moldova, met important people at various festivals throughout the summer and finally left my job a week ago. I went from being lukewarm about God to passionate about being a disciple of Him in the space of six weeks. I have fallen in love all over again.

Moldova is a tiny country, dealing with a troubled political and economic past and a corrupt leadership. There is much poverty, alcoholism, prostitution and sadness throughout the country. Working in a tiny village in rural Moldova was challenging and hard, painful to heart breaking. Despite the hardships there is a minority of the community out there dedicated to relying and trusting on God's faithfulness, truly believing he provides; trying to evoke hope in a dying nation. It was utterly humbling. The Moldovan locals were able to communicate a desperate passion for Jesus: without the little Facebook box. They didn't need mere words to express their life, they lived it fully, humbly and gracefully - qualities that universally translate.

I am Passionate about Jesus Christ. I do have 30 pairs of shoes (shamefully). I do love rugby, I do love reading, and I do love playing my guitar (which again, shamefully, is in fact called Eric). My next challenge is to live my life fully, humbly and gracefully - or in the words of Micah 6:8 ' to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God'. I don't need to use words to do this.

I might delete my little Facebook box. I might keep it. Or at least delete the bit about the shoes...