I have just come back from giving blood. If you have given blood before, none of this will be new – and you might want to stop reading now.
But if you have never given blood, it maybe worth reading.
I had never given blood before. Always meant to, a good intention, but never really got round to it. Too many other things, and, well, two or three years ago (23 actually) I was told not to give blood ‘for a couple of years’ – because I had had jaundice following a bad case of glandular fever. And, well, you can never be too careful can you?
But, as part of the Church of England (http://twitter.com/c_of_e) Love Life Live Lent campaign, one of the days actions was to do something like, give blood (March 27th). So, before I could worry too much about it, or come up with all the ‘valid’ reasons why it was not for me (remember, that jaundice 23 years ago, maybe my blood is not good enough) I booked.
And today was the session.
To be honest, I have been getting pretty nervy about it. I am not good with blood or needles, and I was pretty terrified when I left the house. To delay arriving, I got my hair cut and popped into Café Nero where I asked for an extra shot in my cappuccino.
So at 1.15 I turned up at the church hall. I don’t know what I expected, but the hall full of people all lying down already giving blood came somewhat as a surprise. And every few minutes, somebody else arrived.
I checked in, answered more questions and was given a rather large glass of water which I thought I would never drink, but had emptied by the time I was taken to have my blood tested. At every stage, part of me was hoping they would say ‘No thank you Mr Surridge’, but another part of me was dreading them saying no. How would I feel if I left without giving blood. But I seemed to pass the tests and before I knew I was being taken to me own bed and asked which arm I wanted to use.
Blimey, I had not thought about that. Maybe it was written down in the instructions, but I could not remember. I plumped for my left arm thinking, if anything went wrong, I would cope better without that one (that really was my reasoning). But I immediately knew it was the right answer because as I lay down, straight in front of me was the cross – my focus for the next few minutes.
More cheerful nurses (blood donor supervisors) took blood pressure and then found a vein to use (hold on, aren’t they important?). And then Richard (my blood donor supervisor) was talking away – I was terrified and wondering what was going to happen, waiting for some awful pain and a draining sensation. Surely my arm will go limp, or light weight as all that blood drains out of it? But he said ‘About six more minutes’. What – they were already taking my blood – when did that happen?
I was left alone (well, as alone as you can be in a hall full of people) and pondered on the cross. This monumental step for me seemed so insignificant. I relaxed. I wondered whether anybody ever fell asleep whilst giving blood. A rather unfortunate track came on the radio (Animals - We've got to get out of this place) but it only sought to make me smile. And then that was it. I was being told to sit up, having a plaster put on and taken for a cup of tea.
No passing out, no feeling feint. And whilst I was drinking my tea and eating my biscuit (three bourbons actually), I was booked in for my next session in 13 weeks time.
Only 5 per cent of the adult population give blood. Now I am one of that five per cent, and feeling slightly pleased with myself. With God’s help, and some prompting, I have overcome one fear of mine, and done something good. And I might need my blood back at some point – I am looking on it as a potential deposit of blood – maybe I will need it back in the future.
Find out more at www.blood.co.uk
The Easter Passion on Facebook
This is really for all Facebook friends..
Somebody with more time on their hands than I have, and an incredible understanding of the Passion and a great flair for design, has put together how the Passion may have played out on Facebook.
You will either love it or hate it. But have a look.
http://www.peter-ould.net/wp-content/uploads/facebookpassion.pdf
Somebody with more time on their hands than I have, and an incredible understanding of the Passion and a great flair for design, has put together how the Passion may have played out on Facebook.
You will either love it or hate it. But have a look.
http://www.peter-ould.net/wp-content/uploads/facebookpassion.pdf
A story for today
There was a wealthy man. He lived in a beautiful home, with a lovely family who loved him very much.
Each day, he went off and did what he needed and what he wanted. And each evening he came home and did what he needed to do. He would eat, and enjoy clean clothes and a clean home. And when he went out, everybody thought he was wonderful. He showed compassion and love to those he met.
Yet sometimes, when he came home, things would not go smoothly. Most times he would get home and enjoy a wonderful meal with his family. Yet every now and then the meal would not be ready, and he would be hungry. Later on he would get annoyed, and say "Whenever I am hungry, you do not feed me".
Most mornings he would go out in his beautiful clothes that had been cleaned and pressed. But sometimes his beautiful wardrobe would not have been cleaned or ironed, or his favourite shirt would not be ready for his big meeting. And later on this would annoy him, and he would say, "Whenever I need my shirt, you have not cleaned it."
And many times people would be there to help him do whatever he wanted or needed. People would be there to help him explore new things, make exciting discoveries, and to hold his hand when going somewhere new or frightening. Yet every now and then he would have to do it alone. And later he would get annoyed, and say "Whenever I need your help, you are not there."
And often I will take for granted what God has done for me. And I will sometime get annoyed when he appears to not have done something for me. And then, I might even say, "God, whenever I need your help, you are not there." But I would be wrong, and my anger would be hiding all the times that God has given me just what I need, and I would be unable to see that, even at that time, God is actually giving me just what I need.
Thank you LORD.
Each day, he went off and did what he needed and what he wanted. And each evening he came home and did what he needed to do. He would eat, and enjoy clean clothes and a clean home. And when he went out, everybody thought he was wonderful. He showed compassion and love to those he met.
Yet sometimes, when he came home, things would not go smoothly. Most times he would get home and enjoy a wonderful meal with his family. Yet every now and then the meal would not be ready, and he would be hungry. Later on he would get annoyed, and say "Whenever I am hungry, you do not feed me".
Most mornings he would go out in his beautiful clothes that had been cleaned and pressed. But sometimes his beautiful wardrobe would not have been cleaned or ironed, or his favourite shirt would not be ready for his big meeting. And later on this would annoy him, and he would say, "Whenever I need my shirt, you have not cleaned it."
And many times people would be there to help him do whatever he wanted or needed. People would be there to help him explore new things, make exciting discoveries, and to hold his hand when going somewhere new or frightening. Yet every now and then he would have to do it alone. And later he would get annoyed, and say "Whenever I need your help, you are not there."
And often I will take for granted what God has done for me. And I will sometime get annoyed when he appears to not have done something for me. And then, I might even say, "God, whenever I need your help, you are not there." But I would be wrong, and my anger would be hiding all the times that God has given me just what I need, and I would be unable to see that, even at that time, God is actually giving me just what I need.
Thank you LORD.
Paying Attention
As part of my Course, this week I was asked to reflect on three of four discussions with people - recalling what I heard and what I did not hear. Or where I listened and who I did not listen to.
Despite the obvious weakness in this approach - simply being aware that I was to listen to people has (I hope) made me far more open to listening, it has been a great task. And as I have to record it, and am sat at the moment waiting for a bit of other work to arrive in my Inbox, I thought I would now put finger to keyboard to record three of my observations.
I have far more examples, this week, of where I feel I have listened to people, and God, than not. This is not because I some sort of superhuman who rests constantly I God's care - though I strive for it - but much more because I have been aware that I am meant to be listening!
A windy day
So, late last week, when I went to the Opticians where I was efficiently parted with large sums of cash, where I listened the first time. It was a windy day - very windy in fact. I drove in to Market Harborough and parked near Tesco's - although I had no intention of shopping there that day. I had about fifty minutes before my appointment and planned to get some photo copying done - which I needed for a meeting later on that day - and grab a coffee during which time I would tend to my e-mails and other work related issues.
But as I walked from the car towards the town centre, I was stuck by just how windy it was. This was clearly illustrated by an old lady, bent almost double, legs moving slowly as she battled into the wind - heading towards the footbridge over the river. Yet no matter how much her short legs moved, she was making no headway against the wind.
Her head was bent down; I imagined her teeth gritted with determination. And before I knew what I was doing, I was stood alongside her offering my arm to help her. She took it and there I was walking slowly against the direction I was going in and appreciating the sheer strength of the wind. We walked slowly - she was heading for Northampton Road - a slight panic went through my head - at this rate I will never get back to the Opticians in time. But this is the walk this lady had embarked upon. It would have been her day. I offered to get my car - she declined but a few minutes later - and only a few yards more progress - she asked if I would get my car. So I did, and we drove out of the car park, along parts of town I had never been on before - to her destination. Driving still took almost ten minutes - helped by the never ending road works that typify Market Harborough (water mains work this time).
All in all, it took my thirty minutes out of the fifty minutes I had available. But I listened - helped others - and still had time for the photocopying and a quick coffee - and very few e-mails that needed any attention. And still got to the opticians which allowed them to take my money.
Not listening to my kids
What shame. To write and record it here - not listening to be children. The significance of this came really after the event - when in the prayer room and reflecting on what is and is not important. How often I get it the wrong way round.
So, at the weekend Phoebe bought a skateboard from a car boot sale. Now, I was pretty pleased with myself over the car boot sale. As far as I am concerned they are the epitome of an awful time - my life is too full of clutter as it is, why would I want to fill the house with clutter other people are wanting to get rid off. But the kids love them - so good for me. Pat on the back. And they got some great things - headphones (allowing the playing of the electric guitar without major disturbance), a new keyboard, and this skateboard.
Now, it is a Bratz skateboard, and Phoebe was keen to paint it. She was so keen she got the paint out. I kept explaining - sort of - that it needed more than just painting. That it needed some thought - white emulsion would not do. It was really me saying, 'No not now, things to do. Washing, tidying. Sitting doing me things' and I failed to understand and appreciate the enthusiasm that Phoebe had to do this. I should have been more receptive - so Phoebe, I am sorry.
Listening to my Kids
But I did redeem it - in a way. No, the skateboard is still not painted. But on Sunday it was Samuel's birthday party and on Monday I promised to read one of his new stories. But time dragged on and on. The kids did not seem to understand the importance of getting ready for bed. Nor my work that I had still to do, or the poster to design, or the essay to write, or the clothes to iron. The pressures that the children just do not understand.
So it got to the time when, eventually, they were ready for bed. I told them, 'lights out'. And guess what. They complained. I had promised to read them a story. Did they not understand - it is their fault. They have delayed, made me annoyed. My work was outstanding - important and now, urgent. I was annoyed - they could have had a story if they have not delayed in getting ready for bed. They have to learn - they can't have everything. They have responsibilities as well.
But then I remembered I was meant to be listening. And the prayer room had reminded me about precious moments; those times all too often missed and then lost forever. So, I picked up a book and told the kids to get comfortable. And I read, and read. It was a book about the second world war - bombings in London, and a young girl - the children's age. How she missed her Mum and Dad during the evacuation, the problems of then living in London and the pressures her Mum faced. It doesn't sound so good, but it was spell binding. I was the master story teller - my kids held their breath at the key points, and hung on to every word.
And boy, did I enjoy it. Work did not matter. Essays were not important. The ironing did not need doing. But I did need to be with my kids.
Listening to God
I can't sum up this week without a thank you to the Prayer Room (www.tinyurl.com/kfpraise) and how spending time with God has opened me up to hearing his voice. There are too many examples this week for me to list or describe here. But just to say, thank you to all of you who have spoken to me this week. It has been appreciated and I have taken loads from it.
Thank you Lord for opening my eyes and enabling me to listen.
You can find out more about the Certificate of Christian Discipleship here http://www.leicester.anglican.org/diocesan-info/subsite/school-for-ministry.aspx and click Certificate of Christian Discipleship. I am studying at St Wilfrid's, Kibworth.
Despite the obvious weakness in this approach - simply being aware that I was to listen to people has (I hope) made me far more open to listening, it has been a great task. And as I have to record it, and am sat at the moment waiting for a bit of other work to arrive in my Inbox, I thought I would now put finger to keyboard to record three of my observations.
I have far more examples, this week, of where I feel I have listened to people, and God, than not. This is not because I some sort of superhuman who rests constantly I God's care - though I strive for it - but much more because I have been aware that I am meant to be listening!
A windy day
So, late last week, when I went to the Opticians where I was efficiently parted with large sums of cash, where I listened the first time. It was a windy day - very windy in fact. I drove in to Market Harborough and parked near Tesco's - although I had no intention of shopping there that day. I had about fifty minutes before my appointment and planned to get some photo copying done - which I needed for a meeting later on that day - and grab a coffee during which time I would tend to my e-mails and other work related issues.
But as I walked from the car towards the town centre, I was stuck by just how windy it was. This was clearly illustrated by an old lady, bent almost double, legs moving slowly as she battled into the wind - heading towards the footbridge over the river. Yet no matter how much her short legs moved, she was making no headway against the wind.
Her head was bent down; I imagined her teeth gritted with determination. And before I knew what I was doing, I was stood alongside her offering my arm to help her. She took it and there I was walking slowly against the direction I was going in and appreciating the sheer strength of the wind. We walked slowly - she was heading for Northampton Road - a slight panic went through my head - at this rate I will never get back to the Opticians in time. But this is the walk this lady had embarked upon. It would have been her day. I offered to get my car - she declined but a few minutes later - and only a few yards more progress - she asked if I would get my car. So I did, and we drove out of the car park, along parts of town I had never been on before - to her destination. Driving still took almost ten minutes - helped by the never ending road works that typify Market Harborough (water mains work this time).
All in all, it took my thirty minutes out of the fifty minutes I had available. But I listened - helped others - and still had time for the photocopying and a quick coffee - and very few e-mails that needed any attention. And still got to the opticians which allowed them to take my money.
Not listening to my kids
What shame. To write and record it here - not listening to be children. The significance of this came really after the event - when in the prayer room and reflecting on what is and is not important. How often I get it the wrong way round.
So, at the weekend Phoebe bought a skateboard from a car boot sale. Now, I was pretty pleased with myself over the car boot sale. As far as I am concerned they are the epitome of an awful time - my life is too full of clutter as it is, why would I want to fill the house with clutter other people are wanting to get rid off. But the kids love them - so good for me. Pat on the back. And they got some great things - headphones (allowing the playing of the electric guitar without major disturbance), a new keyboard, and this skateboard.
Now, it is a Bratz skateboard, and Phoebe was keen to paint it. She was so keen she got the paint out. I kept explaining - sort of - that it needed more than just painting. That it needed some thought - white emulsion would not do. It was really me saying, 'No not now, things to do. Washing, tidying. Sitting doing me things' and I failed to understand and appreciate the enthusiasm that Phoebe had to do this. I should have been more receptive - so Phoebe, I am sorry.
Listening to my Kids
But I did redeem it - in a way. No, the skateboard is still not painted. But on Sunday it was Samuel's birthday party and on Monday I promised to read one of his new stories. But time dragged on and on. The kids did not seem to understand the importance of getting ready for bed. Nor my work that I had still to do, or the poster to design, or the essay to write, or the clothes to iron. The pressures that the children just do not understand.
So it got to the time when, eventually, they were ready for bed. I told them, 'lights out'. And guess what. They complained. I had promised to read them a story. Did they not understand - it is their fault. They have delayed, made me annoyed. My work was outstanding - important and now, urgent. I was annoyed - they could have had a story if they have not delayed in getting ready for bed. They have to learn - they can't have everything. They have responsibilities as well.
But then I remembered I was meant to be listening. And the prayer room had reminded me about precious moments; those times all too often missed and then lost forever. So, I picked up a book and told the kids to get comfortable. And I read, and read. It was a book about the second world war - bombings in London, and a young girl - the children's age. How she missed her Mum and Dad during the evacuation, the problems of then living in London and the pressures her Mum faced. It doesn't sound so good, but it was spell binding. I was the master story teller - my kids held their breath at the key points, and hung on to every word.
And boy, did I enjoy it. Work did not matter. Essays were not important. The ironing did not need doing. But I did need to be with my kids.
Listening to God
I can't sum up this week without a thank you to the Prayer Room (www.tinyurl.com/kfpraise) and how spending time with God has opened me up to hearing his voice. There are too many examples this week for me to list or describe here. But just to say, thank you to all of you who have spoken to me this week. It has been appreciated and I have taken loads from it.
Thank you Lord for opening my eyes and enabling me to listen.
You can find out more about the Certificate of Christian Discipleship here http://www.leicester.anglican.org/diocesan-info/subsite/school-for-ministry.aspx and click Certificate of Christian Discipleship. I am studying at St Wilfrid's, Kibworth.
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