Entitlement and Elitism

Many are concerned that today's young people in the West feel 'entitled' - to material goods, to satisfying jobs, to ideal romantic partners. Brought up in reasonable comfort, with the world's knowledge at their fingertips; with parents and teachers doing all they can to ensure minimal difficulties, maximum success, great self-esteem... high numbers of teens and young adults seem to expect life, liberty and happiness to be handed to them on a plate.

At the same time, I'm aware of growing segregation, xenophobia, elitism - call it what you will. when I started writing this, nearly four years ago, there were presidential campaigns in the United States which were becoming more and more bitter as people of each persuasion condemned those of the other party. That's unlikely to change with the coming campaigns this year. But although the United States elections are the most publicised, similar anger and divisiveness happens all over the world.

I scan a couple of news websites on my phone most mornings, and sometimes spend longer during the day reading news articles on my computer. Most of it is negative. So many wars, so much violence around the world. Today's news sites have heart-rending articles about children starving, some of them dying in Ukraine and Palestine. But there are also articles about troops gathering in South American countries, torture and slavery in China, violence in African countries, and more. 

So much hatred. So much bigotry. 

Galatians 5:22 tells us that the 'fruits of the Spirit' are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. That means that those of us who follow Christ, who believe we have the indwelling Holy Spirit, should be demonstrating these things. 

Are Christians generally known to everyone else by these fruits...? Sadly, no. In many cases Christians as well as those of other religions and 'secular' people are involved in destruction, condemnation, unkindness. 

I started thinking about past generations, of the tendency of people to want to feel superior, one way or another. The apartheid system in much of the world - most notably South Africa - genuinely believed that people with pale skin were superior to those with darker skin. 'Ethnic cleansing', and many of Hitler's beliefs were related to this twisted idea that 'white' skins and fair hair are supreme. 

Then there are patriarchal societies around the world which believe that men are not just physically stronger than women, but more intelligent, more capable of making decisions, and that they can treat women however they wish. Even in the supposedly enlightened Western world, it's only in the past hundred years or so that society has recognised that women should be able to vote, to work in professions such as medicine and law, to be paid the same amount as men for doing the same job, to be protected under the same laws that protect men.

Going back a couple of thousand years, since the start of the Church there have been battles, often violent, between those who are convinced they have the right path to God and want to persuade others by force. Jesus, who did nothing wrong - and a great deal that was right - was killed as a criminal. His early followers were persecuted for talking about a new way of love and reconciliation. Then Christianity was given state approval, and started doing its own persecution.

Even further back in history, the Jewish people regularly massacred those of other nations. They believed God was telling them to do so. 

And yet, when God originally called Abraham (in Genesis 12), he chose him so that his descendants could be a blessing to the other nations, not so that they could subdue them. Certainly there were some terrible things that the pagan countries were doing. The Jews, by following healthy dietary and sanitary rules (in a society which knew nothing of germs) were supposed to live long lives and spread God's message amongst those around them. There are some wonderful examples in the Bible: the story of Esther, for instance, or Ruth, of the Jewish people spreading God's love to others. But there are, too, many stories of bloodshed and violence in the Hebrew Bible; I don't pretend to understand them.

The New Testament, however, is much clearer that we who follow Jesus are to be 'salt and light' in the world. We are to be known by our love for one another, and our good example to all. Salt preserves: it slows or even stops decay, and enhances the product that is salted. Light makes darkness disappear: it shows things for what they really are.

Jesus mixed with the most despised people of his time, and was criticised for doing so. He forgave those who broke the Ten Commandments. He healed those considered the lowest of the low. He reached out in love and compassion to everyone he came in contact with, other than the hypocritical and superior religious leaders. He asked for nothing but wholehearted commitment. He gave everything, including his own life.

In the Gospels, and also in some of the letters in the New Testament written to new gatherings of believers, we learn that we of the human race are all of value in God's sight. Whether male or female, Jew or Gentile, we are loved. Whether fair-skinned or dark-skinned, young or old; whatever our gender, or political persuasion, or cultural background, or sexual orientation, we are created in God's image. No 'sin' or error is too great to be forgiven. From those to whom much is given, much is expected.

Yet despite the supposedly enlightened times in which we live, this principle seems to have been lost in today's entitlement world. I've heard of too many young (and not-so-young) people whose philosophy is more along the lines of, 'To those to whom much is given, much more should be given.' 

Certainly our children need to be loved, and to be told that they are of value. Philip Yancey popularised the truth that, 'There is nothing we can do to make God love us more… and nothing we can do to make God love us less.' This is the kind of unconditional love that parents need to communicate to their children. I believe passionately in non-violent and non-coercive parenting, in encouraging our children to find good solutions to problems and to make their own decisions, wherever possible.

And yes, society is, in some ways, more loving and accepting than it was in the past. Women are, in many cultures, recognised for their abilities. Mixed culture marriages are more and more common, and no longer cause raised eyebrows, at least in European countries. It's very good that those with special needs are given opportunities rather than locked away, that those who struggle with academics are given help rather than written off as uneducable. 

But, somewhere amidst the technological revolution and the increase of acceptance of those different from us, we seem to have lost the ability to take responsibility for our actions? Forgiveness and unconditional love don't mean that we should ignore the long-term effects of our children's behaviour. Everyone needs to understand that decisions they make may have consequences: sometimes immediate, sometimes in the long-term future. Perhaps a broken toy can be mended, perhaps not. Whether broken deliberately or by carelessness, a child's actions will have consequences. 

As we help our children see that every action or decision may have an effect or consequence, perhaps they will start to believe us when we tell them that some things will have effects many years in the future. Even such basics as brushing teeth, eating fruit and vegetables or running around outside are important for the child's long-term health. We all make decisions every day, and part of maturity is learning to make positive ones.

I don't think it's healthy, however, to compare a child with others, to push for competition, or to reward them for good 'grades'. I heard of someone recently saying that children needed to be taught to be 'ordinary'. Most of them won't go on to be top CEOs, or Olympic athletes or highly paid entertainers. They - and we - need to learn to be content, sometimes, to be 'good enough' parents, or secretaries, or aid workers, or builders, or whatever our current vocation or role involves. 

It doesn't much matter what career we follow, or what job we do: God wants us to grow into increasingly loving people who are a blessing to others. If we demonstrate the principle that the more we have, the more we should give (whether in material terms, or our abilities) and if we encourage our children and teens to do the same, maybe they will gradually lose the idea that they are entitled to more than those around them. 

What is a Christian writer?

A Christian writer is a Christian who writes. 

Obvious, perhaps. And yet some people assume that a Christian writer is someone who writes Biblical exposition, or perhaps overtly evangelistic or devotional articles or books. 

However, we are Christians because we follow Jesus, and we are writers because we believe God wants us to write. So while our worldview and beliefs should overflow into what we write, this can be subtle or implied rather than obvious. 

Writing for ourselves

We learn to write by writing, rather like a musician learns to play through regular practice. It’s important to write even when we don’t feel like it; to make mistakes and learn to put them right. We can write letters we never send, or poems that we can’t get right, or the beginnings of short stories that go nowhere. Most published writers say that for every accepted article or short story. there are dozens that never emerge beyond their notebooks or computers. 

Most of our writing may never be read by anyone other than ourselves. Another example is a journal, which can be a useful way of recording inner thoughts or venting frustrations. Writing our feelings down is often therapeutic, as well as a good way to start the day. But it would probably not be constructive to show our journals to anyone else. 

We learn to write by reading, too, so we get a feel for language, and the different ways that published writers use it. Musicians, similarly, often go to a range of concerts and listen regularly to music. If we want to understand other people, and reach out to them, we need to discover how they think and what they believe. It has been demonstrated that empathy is developed most strongly in the people who read the most fiction[1]. It enables us to get inside the minds of people in cultures or centuries that we can never experience ourselves. 

Writing for publication

At some point, if we are called by God to write, it is likely that some of our work should have a wider audience, in print or online. Whether a letter to an editor in a newspaper, a short article about a significant moment in our life, or a more ambitious project such as a novel or autobiography, it’s easier than ever to be published nowadays, with many options for online forums, blogs or websites, or for print-on-demand self-published books. 

The late Elsie Newman, who founded our local Christian Writing group in 2007, believed that, as Christians, we are called to live in the world, and - as writers - to communicate with those who are not believers, as well as with fellow Christians. There are many people who wouldn’t ever pick up ‘religious’ books by choice. So we need to engage with ‘secular’ writing: whether websites, magazines, newspapers or books, and introduce a Christian worldview in a way that provides hope and encouragement.  

In 2007 she wrote this:

As a Christian, I have to ask myself a few searching questions:

* Am I sure God wants me to use my time in this way?

* Have I something to say, in whatever form, that is relevant to the present world, both Christian and non-Christian?

* Is my writing professional as well as adequate?

The first question is the hardest, and has to be asked often and personally. For me it is much easier when the subject is ‘religious’, but what about the historical novel, or poetry which is not overtly Christian? Are the demands on my time and energy justified?

The second question needs some thought. Have I prayed sufficiently to feel that my simple thoughts could be of help to someone, and are not just another ‘opinion’? Is my writing accessible to the contemporary world and not just my own particular social circle?

The third question is easiest for me, because it is more obvious and can be worked on. As a member of the Fellowship of Christian Writers, I have seen many unintelligible manuscripts sent in by Christians who feel they have something important to say for God. Their sincerity is not in question, but until they take the trouble to learn at least the basics and presentation of writing, it is doubtful whether their thoughts will get beyond the editor’s desk. 

Christian Writing Groups

I am part of this group where people can share their writing, perhaps for the first time, sometimes with quite personal content. So it’s important that the material stays within the group. Unless someone gives overt permission to share their work, it should stay within our circle. We don’t talk about what other people are writing to anyone outside the group; privacy must be respected, if we are to develop trust in each other.

It’s also important to remember that, coming from a wide variety of Christian backgrounds and traditions, we won’t always agree with each other’s content. A writing group like ours is not intended for debate, or to try and persuade others in the group to change their opinions. It’s to help each other become better writers, and to encourage each other to keep writing. So we make sure that we do not criticise or attack each other’s beliefs, or those of any other part of the Christian family. 

Each group will, of course, develop its own guidelines and principles, but mutual trust and respect are (in my opinion) always essential. For groups with experienced, published writers, strong critique may be acceptable. But for those who are new to writing, or who only write occasionally, criticism may deter them from future writing. We find that it’s fine to query specific words or phrases, where relevant, or to give grammar and punctuation corrections for those who would like that kind of critique. We might suggest alternative styles someone might follow (a short story, perhaps, rather than a poem) or possible outlets for publication, if appropriate. We try to save any tangential discussion of the content for a refreshment break. 

Avoiding Agendas 

As followers of Christ, our primary calling is to love God and to love other people. Jesus also told us to be salt and light. Salt gives taste to bland food, and enhances flavours. But it has to be applied carefully, or it is in danger of becoming overwhelming, unpleasant, and possibly dangerous to our health. Light enables us to see, shows us the world, and helps us find what would otherwise be hidden. However, too much light can damage our eyes, or even our skin. 

Our calling as writers is to communicate in the written word. We must choose each word carefully if we want to be taken seriously. In a conversation, the other person can ask questions, argue, or demand clarification of points. Sometimes we can agree to disagree, and move on. But when someone reads an article or book, in print or online, the author has no chance to explain further what they meant. If the readers find the tone abrupt, boring or pushy, they will put the book down and choose another, or click to a different website. 

As writers we can communicate the love of God. Whether writing fiction or nonfiction, poetry or prose, we can introduce themes that are important to us, in ways that are subtle. We can use anecdotes or stories as metaphors. We can explain our personal viewpoints, briefly, if relevant to the context. But we must avoid turning every piece of writing into an attempt to convince others to agree with our beliefs. Our readers might question their assumptions, or ponder new ideas, but only if they are offered courteously.

As Madeleine L’Engle said [2], 

We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it,

________________

[1] https://bigthink.com/neuropsych/reading-fiction-empathy-better-person/
[2] https://www.azquotes.com/author/8364-Madeleine_L_Engle

Priorities

I'm not sure who first coined the phrase, 'The Tyranny of the Urgent'.

Nor who first drew the distinction between the 'important' and the 'urgent'.

Nor do I even recall when I first had an 'aha!' moment as I understood, in my soul, the difference. Living in the twenty-first century, it seems that we are surrounded constantly by the 'urgent'. Emails, text messages, Facebook status updates, online forums, blogs to follow. The faster one comments or replies, the quicker another incoming message appears. I've mostly resisted Twitter, and hope to continue to do so, since it seems that one could spend one's entire life 'tweeting' (or reading other people's tweets).

When one has children at home, there are plenty of urgent demands, most of which are also fairly important. A baby needs feeding, or changing, and the best thing for all concerned is to meet the baby's demands at once. Gone, thankfully, are the days when mothers were advised to feed only on schedule, and leave the baby screaming if he was hungry at any other time.

There are urgent needs for older children, too. What parent hasn't dropped everything on hearing a piercing yell? Or to race to the bathroom, when their toddler announces, 'I need to pee'? As our children mature, we still structure our time around them and their activities; if combined with work outside the home, lives become even busier. We schedule meetings at school, or church; business dinners; and the endless rounds of shopping, cooking, cleaning up and laundry.

Some new parents remember to schedule a few evenings to relax with friends, or even the occasional 'date-night' with a babysitter left in charge. But as the 'urgent' seeps into every moment of the day, it's all too easy, when finding a spare half-hour, to collapse in front of the television, or scroll through social media. Or perhaps a mindless computer game. Anything to distract our minds from the busy-ness of the day, and the further demands that will no doubt take up our full attention again soon. Clichés abound: the rat-race, the treadmill, the daily grind.

Is this how life should be? Is this 'life in all its fulness' that Jesus promised those who love him?

it doesn't seem that way to me. I'm fortunate - or very blessed, depending on your viewpoint - in that I was able to give up work when our first son was born. When we moved abroad, twenty-five years ago, I started home educating our sons. Perhaps for the first time as a family we had time to pause, to think about the reasons for education, to establish some priorities. We read books together, sometimes for hours. We played family board games. Certainly there were days when we all got caught up in our computers, or 'urgent' tasks, and the boys were often busy with a wide range of activities. But we talked, and we walked, and we pondered, and generally slowed down.

My personal tendency is towards inertia anyway, rather than activity. So I loved this new, more relaxed lifestyle. As the boys grew older, and more responsible for their own activities, I needed to do less and less for them. Cooking and laundry continued of course, but with the help of my many electrical kitchen 'servants', they weren't too onerous, other than in the height of summer when the heat and humidity made anything difficult. 

And yet, how easy it was to get caught up in the online world - to check email every five minutes, to amass Facebook friends, and follow their links, and comment on their updates. To take part in online forums and discussions, answering questions - with the motivation of helping others - and to read endless blogs. There is so much at our fingertips, so much we can read, or learn, without ever leaving the comfort of our computer chairs. The urgent still pounds at our minds, and we don't even realise it.

What is the alternative? Whether working to earn money, or in a supported ministry, or raising a family, or even retired... is it possible to push aside most of the urgent demands and focus on what is important? How do we even discover what IS important? How can we prioritise our days? And if we do - if we start with the important, and then flesh out our lives with the urgent, how do we avoid burnout?

Jesus told us, nearly 2000 years ago, that we should love God, and love other people. We've heard this so often that it doesn't seem particularly radical any more. The first century people - mostly Jews - who heard this, were used to having to follow hundreds of regulations in the hope of meeting God's approval. Laws about hygiene, about eating, about what they could do on the Sabbath... some from Scripture, some rules established by their leaders. Jesus said that love was more important than any of them.

As Christians we don't worry about whether switching on a light is 'work' or not. We don't spend our days having to refer to hundreds or minor rules, in case we offend God. Instead, we get caught up in hundreds of distractions that don't, in themselves, lead us away from God, but which frequently make us forget about God altogether.

Love God. That's what matters. Do what we know God wants us to do, avoid what we know God does not want us to do. Tell God when we mess up, ask for forgiveness, make reparation if necessary, and move on. Listen for the voice of God, and follow our inner promptings. Take time during the day to pause, and reflect, and know that we are loved. Easier said than done, of course. 

And love other people. Our 'neighbours' as the older translations of the Bible put it. Our fellow human beings. Relationships should always be our priority. Not schedules, or organisations, or rules and regulations, but people.

For those who are married, the first priority (after God) must be their spouse. Children or work commitments may give more urgent demands, but it's vital to spend time with the person we promised to love for the rest of our lives. Having to schedule a 'date-night' just to hang out and talk is a little sad - we should be communicating and hanging out together regularly, at home. But if the 'urgent' demands of other people in the home make that difficult, then it's probably a good idea. God gave us our husbands or wives as companions, lovers, friends. There is no more important human relationship.

Children - if we have them - are next. We bring them into the world, and must guide them, encourage them, hug them, spend time with them, and - eventually - let them go.

Parents, friends (on or offline), next-door neighbours, colleagues, needy acquaintances, people on the supermarket checkouts, beggars in the street... all these are people whom we are also supposed to love. And since we don't have the time or emotional energy to deal with all of them every day, then we must listen to God, trusting each day - each moment - that we will know where we are to be, whom we should relate to, what we should do.

I wrote the bulk of this post twelve years ago, and couldn't find a way of concluding. I've updated a little, to take account of the passing of the years. But I don't know that I've got any better at working out what's important. There are fewer 'urgent' demands on my time, but more ways to get distracted.  

I read recently a helpful distinction between what's primarily important in general terms (love God, love other people), what principles we should always follow (truthfulness, generosity, kindness and so on), and what specific things each individual should be doing, day by day - and it's the last one that will vary from person to person. But it's also the hardest thing (in my view) to determine .

When I turned 50 I quipped that I still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up.  More than a decade later, that's still the case. 

Rules, Regulations, Laws and Principles

Chatting with a friend, nearly a decade ago, the topic of rules came up. She said that the one thing that made her uncomfortable with the Harry Potter books was the way that the 'good' guys seem to break rules regularly, and never suffer any kind of consequences. My comment was that this is pretty common in the British 'school story' genre in general. There's an understood difference between rules (which are fine to break, at times, so long as one is prepared for possible retribution) and general principles of loyalty and sportsmanship, which should always be adhere to.

I put this down, at first, to growing up in British culture where we see almost everything in shades of grey rather than strict black vs white or right vs wrong. In many cases, the ends justify the means, in my view. So if Harry and his friends sneak out at night under the cloak of invisibility, knowingly breaking school rules, it's fine from a moral standpoint, because they are doing it for a higher purpose: seeing a lonely friend, or rescuing a condemned animal, or finding something out that will save many lives.

I then started pondering on the differences between rules and laws. Googling the two suggests that the difference is essentially in the consequence of breaking them: lawbreakers may end up in jail, or with hefty fines. Rule-breaking is less of a problem. Other definitions are perhaps more helpful: a law is something passed by the government of a country for the protection of the people. Rules are for specific situations, more arbitrary and may much more easily be changed.

We don't always distinguish them so clearly; we talk about 'rules of the road', for instance, when we're referring to laws governing the behaviour of drivers. And yet there's a sense in which they are arbitrary. It's a convention to drive on the left (or right) of the road, to stick to specific speeds in different situations, to overtake on one side rather than the other. 

These rules are drawn up for the safety of the drivers, but on occasion it might be safer to drive over the speed limit (if a dangerously fast driver is too close on a motorway and there's no way to move), or to drive on the wrong side (if an out-of-control driver is weaving around the street where you should be, and nobody else is coming). The principles of safety and avoiding accidents are more important - at that moment - than the official rules.

And that's a third abstract term, one I referred to in the first paragraph: principles. In most cases there are no laws or rules saying that people should be kind, or loyal, or generous. We could call these things morals or ethics. They may come from Christian or other religious beliefs, or from general humanitarianism. I believe they are part of the 'law' which the apostle Paul spoke of as written on everybody's hearts (Romans 2:13-15).

I take as a starting point that there are broad 'good' principles which we are all aware of intuitively from an early age. Parents are expected to be loving, to provide for their offspring's needs, to comfort them when they are hurt. A toddler knows when something is 'unfair', or when another child is 'mean' (even if he, in his turn, is equally unfair and mean; toddlers are, after all, naturally self-centred). Jesus summed up the Jewish law in two overriding principles: love God, and love other people. 

I have written at length about how so many Christians seem to ignore these commands. I wonder if this may be due to the confusion between principles, laws and rules. Love is an overriding principle. Loving God, doing good and keeping healthy are the main reason for most of the original laws and commandments in the Hebrew Bible.

But not everybody likes following general principles. There are those who want to know exactly how far they can go before they are veering away from it. What does it mean to keep the Sabbath holy, or not to bear false witness? Thousands of tiny rules and regulations were drawn up by priests, in Old Testament times, to ensure that the Sabbath was kept holy and free of work. Jesus blew that apart: the Sabbath was supposed to be a day of rest, to remember God; not one of worrying about whether or not it was 'work' to pick a grain of corn, or heal a man's hand.

When we have small children, we have to make specific rules to keep them safe. A two-year-old might be told he must NEVER go into the street without holding an adult's hand. Do we really mean 'never'? Of course not. By the time he's five or six, he will have learned to be more careful. Perhaps, on quiet minor streets, he is permitted to cross by himself. By nine or ten, depending on his awareness, he may be free of street-crossing rules. They are there to serve a purpose, to protect the child; they may be queried at any time, and may be discussed or changed as the child matures. Rules are not absolutes, nor are they guarantees of safety.

Back to the fictional Hogwarts school situation: in any institution there must be general principles of care for others. So it makes sense to have rules about not running in busy corridors, for instance, or curfews at boarding schools, to ensure all students are safely indoors at night. In order that all students are able to study and learn as they wish, it makes sense for teachers to expect quiet conditions with students sitting in their places during lessons. Some schools allow more discussion than others; a few have the freedom to attend or not attend classes.

However, these are all rules - guidelines for behaviour, to enable everyone to learn. They are not laws; nor are they principles. The main principle at stake here is one of respect for everyone else. There are greater principles too; if somebody collapses suddenly, or has a fit, it would be entirely appropriate for a student to run as fast as possible through the corridors to fetch help, or to call out to get the teacher's attention.

Rules are not 'made to be broken', as the old saying has it; but they are subject to higher principles and guidelines. A child raised in a loving, respectful and open home will know when to query rules and when it's appropriate to put them aside. They should also start to assimilate the guiding principles of morality: it's not just against the rules to take things from Mum's purse or Dad's wallet, it's morally wrong to steal in general. 

There's a law against stealing, in almost every country, with legal consequences for those who are caught contravening the law (in some cases quite harsh). The law forbidding stealing is an example of the principles of ownership - of being entitled to one's property. However, that should balance the principle of generosity - that those who have a lot should find ways of sharing or benefiting those who have nothing. If the principle of love for other people was fully understood and observed, we wouldn't need laws (although rules, in some circumstances, would still be needed). 

On Flexitarianism

I like to think of myself as an ethical person. I don’t want people or animals to be abused, and if I saw it happening I hope I would do something to stop it. However we live in a corrupt world, where abuse happens all the time, in multiple ways. I don’t condone it, but when I try to work out what I can do - or not do - about it, it becomes overwhelming.

There are child slaves picking coffee and cocoa beans under terrible conditions in some African and South American countries. There are adult slaves making clothes under even worse conditions in Asian countries. There are animals treated appallingly to provide meat and dairy products all around the world. And that’s without even starting on the way rainforests are being torn down, and the earth’s resources used up, having a long-term negative effect not just on humans but on the indigenous animals and birds.

Some people choose to live off the grid entirely, to grow their own produce, weave their own cloth, make their own clothes. While some develop their own rigid systems that can lead to different kinds of abuse, I have an overriding admiration for those who can follow a simple lifestyle, knowing that they’re not causing added pain to anyone outside their community. But we’re not all called to that kind of living.

So, as an ordinary 21st century woman, I admit that I like using kitchen appliances and technology. I stop sometimes and wonder: were they made by slaves in China?

I don’t know.

I’m not proud of that fact, but most modern equipment is made of so many components that it’s impossible to guarantee ethical sourcing.

What of clothes? I tend to buy from inexpensive and second-hand sources. I don’t have any interest in designer labels or spending large amounts on clothing. Pre-owned clothes are good from the renewable resource point of view, but were they originally made by slaves?

I don’t know.

I stopped shopping at one discount store in the UK when it was publicised widely that its suppliers included slaves. But is there any guarantee that other shops are any better? If high prices are charged, does that mean that the people at the far end of the chain were paid a good wage? Or does it simply mean that the suppliers and shop owners are raking in bigger profits?

I don’t know.

Then there’s the controversial topic of food. I have avoided, for some years, buying products from one particular company whom we are aware have some dubious ethical practices. But are others any better, or are they simply more able to hide their dubious practices?

I don’t know.

A few years ago we made the effort to buy only Fair Trade coffee and chocolate. We expanded that to include items stamped with the sustainable agriculture or ‘green’ logos. Companies that work with the environment are generally working towards fairer trading and wages, even if they have not yet achieved the necessary standard for the Fair Trade stamp. But living in Cyprus, it’s not always possible to find items that we know to be fairly traded.

Where possible we buy locally produced fruit and vegetables. That’s partly for selfish reasons, as they tend to taste better. It’s also partly to reduce our carbon footprint at least slightly. Besides, supporting the local economy seems like a good thing to do on the whole…

… Yet all that is just a tiny drop in the ocean of doing our bit to reduce the abuse of other humans.

When we try also to avoid animals abuse, further problems arise. We have many friends who are vegetarians (including some family members) and a few who are vegan. Some follow these diets for health reasons, some due to personal preference, some for the sake of economy or the environment. And then there are those who are vegan or vegetarian for ethical reasons. Some of them are very vocal on social networks. Are animals subjected to horrific treatment and pain for the sake of meat-eating humans? Undoubtedly they are, in much of the world. Pigs are considered as intelligent as dogs, yet most of us in the West would not consider torturing dogs or eating dog meat. Cows are gentle, caring animals, suffering abuse not just for the sake of meat but for the vast dairy industry: forced into repeated pregnancies, having their calves taken away from them at a young age so that they can be milked by machines, to provide daily pintas.

Until perhaps ten or fifteen years ago, I hadn’t thought much about this. I always knew that I would not be able to kill an animal myself. If I lived alone, my preference would be vegetarianism, but in part that’s because I’m not a great fan of meat anyway. But I had seen farm animals grazing on British hillsides, and thought idly that they wouldn’t be alive at all if it weren’t for farmers breeding them for the sake of meat. I had assumed that the slaughtering process was, if regrettable, at least humane.

I’m part of a family who, on the whole, eat and serve quite a bit of meat. Some of them become depressed if they don’t eat meat at least two or three times per week. While some people thrive as vegetarians or vegans, others seem to need to eat meat of some kind. If I have to prepare meat dishes for family members, it’s extra effort to make vegetarian ones too. I’ll do it for friends or family; it feels a bit selfish to do it just for myself. So over the years I’ve learned to compromise.

So I cook fish or poultry three or four times each week. If I make something with beef mince, such as chili con carne, or enchiladas, I make myself something similar based on beans or lentils rather than meat. We’re dairy-free because my husband finds that cow products make his ears block up, but we eat free-range eggs. I don’t cook steaks or chops or use any lamb or pork (except for occasional sausages for visitors) but when visitors treat us to a meal out, my husband will eat meat while I choose a vegetarian option.

My other inclination is towards natural products - cooking with ingredients rather than buying anything processed. I grew up in a household where almost everything was cooked from scratch, and home-cooked food tastes so much better than most ready-made versions. When I had small children at home I sometimes bought pre-made products, to save time. But over the years I’ve moved increasingly towards cooking everything from ingredients. This is partly as I’ve learned more about doing so, and partly as processed foods seem to attract more and more potentially toxic additives. I suffer migraines if I eat anything containing MSG or its derivatives, soya products, nitrites, sulphites, aspartame or - alas! - Marmite. That’s a very good, if self-centred reason to buy and use only pure products with minimal processing.

Still, I keep ready-made sheets of puff pastry in the freezer for the occasions when I need it. I buy ready-made tortillas and pittas, although I could make them myself, because they’re so much more convenient. And - so far, at any rate - I buy ready-made mayonnaise, as the home-made version is quite complex to produce.

I learned a few years ago that what I consider regular cooking with ingredients is known as ‘clean eating’, and is a trend in its own right rather than most people’s default. But I didn’t have a label for my style of mostly vegetarian with some animal products now and again. Then I learned that this, too, has a name: flexitarianism. The idea is a mostly plant-based diet, with flesh foods a few times a week. When people write books and websites giving ‘flexitarian diets’ they’re not much different from the so-called ‘Mediterranean’ diet, which has been touted as the ideal for good health for many years.

I find it a tad ironic that so many people want regimes and lists for the ‘flexitarian diet’. Yet the same itself implies flexibility. Questions flood forums and other sites: Isn’t it just vegetarianism with cheating? What is ‘allowed’ on a flexitarian diet? Can we eat meat if someone else cooks it for us? How many times a day can we eat eggs…?

It doesn’t work that way. My eating preferences fit into flexitarianism nicely, and my meat-loving husband is fine with it too. If we’re staying with relatives who cook roast beef on Sunday, I’ll eat a little, and pile my plate with vegetables. It’s not like militant veganism; I’m not trying to convert anybody else to my style of eating. I do think it has health benefits. I also think that the dairy-industry is cruel nowadays, but I was aware of that before we stopped using cow’s milk products. I still eat ordinary cheese when offered it in other people’s houses. Does this make me a hypocrite? Perhaps.

I didn’t think much more about my style, having found a name for it. Then a week or so back a worrying report was published, from top scientists, on the topic of global warming. Whether or not this phenomenon is connected to a natural cycle, as some claim, there seems little doubt that global temperatures are increasing at an all-too-rapid rate. Moreover, this could be reduced if sufficient people and organisations take action. Many strategies are proposed, including widespread use of sustainable energy and reduction in fuel usage.

But the most important recommended change, a little to my surprise, is in the way we eat. Avoiding meat and dairy products, according to the report, is the single biggest way to avoid a negative impact on the earth. According to this analysis, meat and dairy provide only 18% of people’s calories globally, and 37% of their protein. But livestock uses 83% of farmland around the world, and produces 60% of agriculture’s greenhouse gas emissions.

The leader of the research, a scientist at Oxford University, stated that, ‘A vegan diet is probably the single biggest way to reduce your impact on planet Earth.’ He began the research in the hope of finding the most sustainable sources of animal products. As a result of his research, he has stopped consuming animal products altogether. Other scientists around the world agree with his conclusions, but realise that veganism would be too big a step for the majority of people. Vegetarianism which includes milk products would not help.

So many scientists are recommending a gradual decrease of animal products in our diets, while - as doctors and other health experts have been saying for a long time - we should all increase our consumption of plant-based foods. The word ‘flexitarianism’ is in the news, and people who like to follow the latest trends are asking what exactly it entails.

For once in my life, I am doing something that’s not only scientifically recommended and at least somewhat ethical, it's actually fashionable.

On Thankfulness

I'm reading a book about thankfulness, at the moment. The author talks about how she made a decision to find 1000 gifts - or graces - for which she could be thankful. Not, she hastens to assure the readers, in a 'Pollyanna' way, but truly honouring God for what he gives us daily, weekly, or just occasionally.

I decided to start writing a list myself. On the first day I easily came up with about sixty items - mostly people - for which I am thankful, without much thought. I listed many family and friends, and other individuals who have been instrumental in my learning and growing over the years. I listed other random things as they occurred to me: chocolate, books, beanbags, coffee, our new bathroom. There is much which I take for granted, but in global terms I am wealthy and have a great deal more than most.

On the second day, I slowed a little, jotting down names of authors who have inspired or encouraged me, abstract concepts such as laughter and love, small pleasures such as walking along a nature trail, playing with my grandson, stroking a cat. I thought of scents and sounds, of the evidence of God in all creation.

On the third day, it felt harder; I started listing individual fruits and vegetables for which I'm thankful, board games I like to play, books I have enjoyed reading. I didn't remember everything I had listed on the first day, and it started to feel like a chore.

On the fourth day, I didn't write anything down, but I thought of some of the things I had previously listed; even if I never come up with more than 180 'things' it's a lot to be thankful for. And I found that, starting the day by being thankful, I continued the day feeling grateful for those around me, for my health, for the comfort of my home. When I am deliberately being thankful, it's much harder to feel anxious or irritable or frustrated.

The Bible is full of exhortations to be thankful. Here's a list of Bible verses about thankfulness; skimming down, some aren't directly about thanks, but it's simpler to refer to this than come up with my own. Paul gave thanks even when in prison, and started all his letters by thanking God for those he was writing to, for gifts he had been given, for the responsibility he had to spread the good news.

We Christians should be known for our love, but also for being thankful people, acknowledging God in all we are, all we have, and all he has given us. I know there will be occasions in future when I won't feel at all thankful, but that's all the more reason to get into the habit of gratefulness now, when there is so much to be thankful for.

Categorising (or 'Us and Them')

Skimming through this blog, I noticed that almost exactly two years ago I wrote a post entitled 'Normality and Judgement'. It was about the way we tend to make generalisations and assumptions, and how important it is to be open to different cultural and generational traditions and habits, without compromising our faith and what we understand to be ethically important.

I'm currently reading an excellent book: 'Disunity in Christ' by Christina Cleveland. She's an American academic who writes in a very readable and accessible way, and I'm finding much to ponder. An early chapter discusses the way that we categorise things and people around us, and ways sociologists and psychologists describe this.

Categorisation is extremely useful in many situations: we need to know that something is (for instance) edible or not edible. A baby doesn't know this distinction and will often put non-edible items in his mouth to explore. Likewise a young toddler, seeing a four-legged object, doesn't necessarily know whether it's a chair for sitting on, or a table which should not be sat upon. Our grandson, at eighteen months, used a step-stool as a table. When one of the adults with him showed him that it could be sat on, he tried to climb on the coffee table to sit on that.

When we categorise other people, however, we can run into danger. That's not to say that it's always a bad idea: we are aware, for instance, that an elderly person might move slowly and could be somewhat hard of hearing and we make allowances for that. When we hear a certain accent, we have a good idea of where someone might come from. We assume that taxi drivers are competent in their vehicles and probably good at knowing the neighbourhood. When we want building work done on the house, and cannot (or don't want to) do it ourselves, we call a builder.

However we also make generalisations based on stereotypes and hearsay. The Japanese (we assume) eat sushi. The British (we are told) drink tea. People of one religion (it's believed) are peace-loving, people of another religion violent. Graffiti (we imagine) is probably the result of a young and disillusioned person getting hold of a can of spray paint.  And so on. In some cases there is more than a grain of truth in our assumptions.

But not always.

We are Brits who do not drink tea. Any religion is likely to attract a few violent types and some non-confrontational pacifist types, and large numbers of people who are somewhere in between. I'm sure there are some Japanese folk who loathe sushi. And I see no reason why an elderly lady in a wheelchair shouldn't be a secret graffiti artist...

Does that last sentence cause you to shake your head a little, thinking I've gone too far? And yet, why not? Why should it be assumed that young people are likely to deface their environment and old people (who were young themselves once) wouldn't do such a thing?

According to the book I'm reading, there's a tendency to align ourselves with people who are like us in some respects, while avoiding, as far as possible, those who are different. Inevitably we belong to or develop interest-related groups: that's not a bad thing in itself. An orchestra consists of people who are musical and like playing together; a gathering of philatelists isn't going to be enhanced by people who have no interest in stamps.

The problem occurs when we assume only positive things about 'us' and our 'in group', and negative things about everyone else. And we do it, the author tells us, to help us feel more comfortable about ourselves.

As I was reading about this, I felt a tension in my neck, a tightness in my chest. Surely this doesn't apply to everyone? I thought. Yes, I can see that there's a great deal of aggression around the world and negative assumptions about 'others' can certainly contribute to it. But we're not all like that. Some of us are quite able to accept anyone and everyone.

Then something was mentioned that was specifically relevant to the USA, and my shoulders relaxed as I remembered the author's nationality. Ah, I thought, she's writing about Americans here. Americans see things in extremes, in black and white, whereas we Brits...

I caught myself mid-thought. There I was, categorising 'Americans' as 'them'. Which is quite unfair as I know it's a stereotype: some of my closest friends hail from the United States and are not judgemental at all.  But still, the generalisation is in my psyche; and yes, for a moment I took comfort in being in group that didn't categorise negatively.

The good thing, apparently, is that all we need to do to overcome this tendency is to be aware of it. It may take time and effort, but so long as we stay open-minded, and realise that generalisations and categorisations are at best limited and at worst untrue, then we're moving in a less judgemental direction.

As an INFJ 'Idealist', one of my important values is knowing that everyone is a unique and valuable individual, and I don't believe it's right or helpful to judge or negatively categorise anyone at all, even those I find most difficult to relate to, or whom I understand the least...

... in other words, 'we' are those who accept everyone, and 'they' are the ones who categorise and judge....

Hmmm.

Spoon Theory and Health

Spoon Theory is an analogy developed to explain the difficult choices that have to be made, day by day, by those with chronic diseases, serious depression, fibromyalgia and other debilitating conditions. Here's a link to the original story, created in a restaurant, to help a healthy, able-bodied person understand just a little better about how difficult it can be when one doesn't look ill, but has drastically limited energy for even the most basic of tasks.

The idea is now widely known, and used in many contexts. But the disabled community - in the broadest sense, including the chronically sick and exhausted - insist that it's only relevant for those with health conditions of some kind. It does not, some of them say, apply to the able-bodied. The difference is apparently about the need for choices; healthy people (one blogger wrote) have an endless supply of 'spoons', and thus don't need to make constant decisions about which of two options they must do.

I think it's unfortunate that it's seen as so black and white. For one thing, 'health' is a vast spectrum of conditions. Even amongst the chronically sick, one person might have twelve 'spoons' worth of energy for the day, another might have only six. Someone else might wake up with just one, if their condition worsens, or if they've made choices the day before that deplete their entire energy for the rest of the day.

Amongst the generally healthy, too, there are ups and downs. After a bout of influenza, even the fittest of people can feel entirely lacking in energy. Just getting out of bed to go to the bathroom can drain them for hours. Yes, it's temporary. Yes, they will almost certainly get better. It's not to be compared to the chronically sick, who have to suffer in this way day after day. But the reason that the analogy is so powerful is that the rest of us DO understand, not just in theory, but from having been in that situation ourselves, albeit temporarily.

More significantly, though, different people have different amounts of energy. And different activities replenish or diminish it, through the day. I don't think anyone starts the day with an infinite number of spoons; even the most energetic bouncy person will eventually flop.  A child usually has more energy than a young adult. A young adult has more energy than a busy mother. A busy mother has more energy than an elderly person. There are a limited and varying number of spoons for each of us.

I'm fortunate enough to sleep well, usually. So perhaps I wake up with a hundred spoons, rather than just ten or twelve. My situation is undoubtedly much easier than that of someone with chronic illness. I feel rich in spoons; I get out of bed and pull on clothes with barely a thought; yes, the actions take up a couple of spoons, but that's okay; there are lots left.

But there aren't always sufficient spoons to last the day. I have to pace myself too. Not in the ordinary chores which pose so much difficulty to the chronically sick; I certainly understand that there's a wide gulf between someone who has to sit down for half an hour after walking downstairs, and someone who can hurry straight back up the stairs because they've forgotten something. I am very thankful for the spoons I receive every morning, and that, most of the time, they are sufficient.

But I'm an Introvert; that means that simply being with other people is an energy drain.  A pleasant evening with two or three friends is very enjoyable, but it depletes my spoons rapidly. That's okay if I'm going straight to go to bed when they've left; I recharge well when I'm asleep. But if I still need to clear the kitchen, and put the rubbish out, and think about what I'm doing the next day, my mind will go blank; it will be difficult to drag myself to bed. Sometimes I barely have the energy left to brush my teeth.

I'm also growing older. I like pottering in the kitchen; I make almost everything from scratch. It's a choice I make, and I'm thankful that I can. But if on one morning I make soup, and ketchup, and granola, and a cake, none of which is particularly difficult by itself, my spoon supply depletes rapidly. Sometimes there's nothing left by the time everything is finished.

I'm immensely thankful that I'm not chronically ill. I'm thankful that I am able to make choices - genuine choices, to make this, or go there, or do that. But those choices do have an impact on the rest of my day, particularly if I'm with other people. There have been times when I've said 'no' to a suggestion of activity that would probably have been enjoyable, because I know that if I do it, I won't have the energy I need for the following day.

Energy levels can be reduced by pain of any kind, by standing for too long, by stress or arguments. I rate almost 100% on the 'highly sensitive person' scale; in recent years I've adjusted my life so that few of these things impinge too much. I avoid bright lights and loud music; I don't watch television; I make sure I have plenty of time to do things, and try not to run into stressful deadlines. But all those things can deplete my energy - or reduce my spoons, depending on how you prefer to look at it - in ways that are hard to understand by those for whom they are energising.

We each have our own likes and dislikes, our own stresses and concerns. We each have our own energy levels which vary from day to day; we each have different things or people who drain us. There's no easy formula to maximise energy, and sometimes it's inevitable that we run out. Those who are chronically ill have it far worse than those who are able-bodied and healthy, but that doesn't mean we don't or can't 'get it'.

I love reading with a four-year-old...

Sometimes I see comments online (or even hear them said in real life) to the effect that it's so difficult to read to a small child, because they keep interrupting and it's impossible to read 'properly'. I usually respond that this is what it's supposed to be like - the words and pictures in a young child's book are the starting point for imagination and discussion, not something to be sat through and endured.

And since I had the privilege of reading to one of my favourite small people this morning, without further ado I present an approximate transcript:

E (nearly four-and-a-half) asked me to read 'Mister Magnolia' by Quentin Blake, after a couple of other books. I hadn't read it for a while and it's not too long; I was happy to oblige.

Me: 'Mister Magnolia, by Quentin Blake.'

I turned to the first familiar page and read the classic catchphrase that recurs throughout the book:

Mr Magnolia has only one boot. 

E: And a stripy shirt
Me: Yes, he does, but the words don't say that.
E: What do the words say?
Me: Mr Magnolia has only one boot.
E: You should say 'BOOOT' (said in a high-pitched tone).
Me: Mr Magnolia has only one BOOOT.  No, that sounds silly.
E: Read the words.
Me: I've read all the words on this page.
E: You didn't read the words on the other page.
Me: They're not very interesting.
E: Read them!
Me: Okay. Text and illustrations copyright 1980 Quentin Blake. All Rights Reserved. First published in Great Britain 1980 by Jonathan Cape Ltd.... are you sure you want me to continue?
E: Yes!
Me: (several more lines about where the book was first published in various countries)
E: Now the other page
Me: You know what it says.
E: It should say Mrs, that's a girl
Me: No, it's a man. Mr Magnolia
E: That long word, that says Magnolia
Me: That's right. And 'M-R' says 'Mister'.
E: I think it says OOT.
Me: Well the last word does if we cover up the 'b' at the front. Then it says 'Mr Magnolia has only one oot'.
E: You covered the 'b'
Me (uncovering it) Yes. That word says 'boot', so if I cover up the 'b' it says 'oot'
E: Turn the page!

Me (with relief) He has an old trumpet that goes rooty-toot--
E: That's a guitar case on the floor. So he must be a girl.
Me: Boys can have guitar cases too
(Brief digression involving other members of E's family about people of both genders whom we know who play the guitar, eventually agreeing that a guitar case could be owned by a man or a woman).
E: Why does he keep a trumpet in his guitar case?
Me: Ah. Good point. It's not a guitar case, it's a trumpet case.
E: It looks like a guitar case
Me: Yes, it does, but it's not really the right shape.
E: And Mr Magnolia has only one boot
Me: True, but it doesn't say so on this page.
E: Turn the page

Me:And two lovely sisters who play on the flute --
E: They are girls
Me: Yes, they're his sisters so they must be girls
E: I know they're girls because they have long hair. This one is VERY long
Me: True, but boys can have long hair. And girls can have short hair...
E: They're not very pretty
Me: No, and their dresses are too long. If they stood up they might trip over.
E: Do they have any boots?
Me: I don't know. We can't see their feet because the dresses are so long.
(Brief digression as we all discuss the possible footwear, or lack thereof, which the sisters might be wearing, and a comment about Quentin Blake's drawings always looking that way, and discussion about whether or not the sisters are actually lovely.. mention, too, of the cups of tea and biscuits shown in the picture, and whether they could eat biscuits while playing the flute...)
E: Next page!

Me: In his pond live a frog and a toad and a newt --
E: Which one is the newt? (points) I think that's the frog (pointing at the toad)
Me: No, the one squatting down is the toad, I think the other one is the frog.
E: Hmmm.
(I turn the page)

Me: He has...
E: Why are those birds making holes in his suit?
Me: Because they're parakeets
E: Why does he have them?
Me: I don't know. I don't think he should: that cage is too small for even one parakeet, and there are four of them in the picture.
E: Read it!
Me: He has green parakeets who pick holes in his suit --
E: What's that word? (points at the long one)
Me: Parakeets. A very useful word to be able to read...
(E's mother points out that it's at least phonetic)
(I turn the page)

Me: And some very fat owls who are learning to hoot --
H (E's six-year-old sister, who was busy doing something else) What is 'hoot'?
H&E's mother demonstrates hooting
E: But Mr Magnolia... go on, read the rest!
Me: But Mr Magnolia has only one boot.

By this stage, I was eleven pages into a book which - if read straight through - would only take about a minute to read, and we had been reading and discussing it for at least ten minutes.

I did finish the rest of the book rather more quickly... although we had further discussion about what a salute is, whether the dinosaur was realistic, and why it was raining.

Not every book is discussed this extensively - I think this is the longest we've ever taken with this particular one! - but this is the kind of conversation that makes reading aloud to young children so very enjoyable.

<--- and this is a link to 'Mister Magnolia' on Amazon UK, just in case anybody who reads this post is wondering what happened at the end of the story, or would like to have a copy to read to their own small child.

You are what you read?

I was tagged on Facebook by a friend who had listed ten books that 'stayed' with her. The challenge was not to think hard or come up with great literature, but to list, off the top of my head, ten books that had affected me in some way.

Ten.

Only ten books!

We own about three thousand, and while I freely admit that I am unlikely to read some of them again (and at least a few hundred are thrillers which I don't suppose I'll ever read) I feel most comfortable when I am in a house with plenty of books. When I know I will never run out of things to read. I keep a couple of hundred unread books on my Kindle, too, just in case.

I think, if I absolutely had to, I could reduce my books to around one thousand, so long as I knew that the rest were going to good homes. But even that would be difficult. So many good books, so many wonderful authors. Even if I don't re-read a book in its entirety, I may well dip into it again.

But it was a challenge I could not resist. I certainly wasn't going to write about the first ten books that came into my head; I wanted to make sure they really had influenced or affected me in some way - that they had genuinely 'stayed' with me over the years.  So I started jotting down a few titles...

Taking my cue from the old 'Desert Island Discs' radio show, I decided to assume that the Bible and the entire works of Shakespeare can automatically be included, so I wasn't going to list either as part of my ten. The Bible has affected me more than any other book; or, rather, collection of books - it's kept one volume, usually, but is 66 books in all. Some of them are very short, and some have influenced me a lot more than others. John's gospel and letters are probably the ones I would choose if I had to pick just a few.

As for Shakespeare, I'm not an unqualified out-and-out fan, but several of his plays have stuck in my mind and I love watching them; Shakespeare coined so many phrases that we're all affected by him regularly.

I thought more about the insistence that I should choose books should have STAYED with me. I decided that, for that to be the case, they must be books which I first read at least 20 years ago. So that excludes Philip Yancey's 'What's so Amazing about Grace?' (and all else he's written), JK Rowling's Harry Potter series,  Susan Howatch's 'Glittering Images' (and sequels), plus Wayne Jacobsen and Brian McLaren's books - all of which will undoubtedly stay with me and be re-read in the future. These books have affected my philosophy and worldview within the past twenty years and I'd recommend them to anyone. I make no apology for the Christian themes (overt or otherwise) for all the above. (Links are to my book reviews blog).

When I started thinking about books that had influenced me profoundly, I really wanted to include the original 'Good Housekeeping' cookery book, which we were given as a wedding present and which I still refer to, even though it's falling to pieces (and even though I have an updated modern version - which is still good, but completely different). But something had to go, so I decided to limit my list to fiction, if I was to have any hope at all of choosing just ten.

Below is the list I posted, in roughly the order in which I first read them. I decided to see which of them I had read in the past 16 years and thus reviewed on my book blog, and was a little surprised to find eight of them - some of them I read more than once, even in this timeframe. I think that underlines just how much these books have, indeed, stayed with me. As for the remaining two, one is too short for a book review on my blog, and one of them is long out of print and unavailable.

1. The Enchanted Wood by Enid Blyton - this is the earliest book I can recall reading, when I was about five or six. I was - well - enchanted by it and its sequels, and re-read them many times. This book introduced me to fairies and fairy-tales, dreams and wishes, and the concept of good triumphing over evil. (They're not at all politically correct, but I didn't notice until I read them aloud to my sons many years later).

2. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis - I suppose I was about six or seven when I first read this. Maybe younger - it's a book that's always been on my shelves, along with its sequels. I do know that the first time I read it, I took it all at face value as a wonderful adventure story. A couple of years later I read the whole series again and had an amazing 'aha!' moment as I realised that it was all connected with God. I'm so glad I discovered that for myself, and that nobody tried to explain the allegories to me.

3. Margaret and the Currant Bunny by Edith Elias - I read this book almost every summer from the time I was about seven; it was on the shelves in my bedroom at my grandparents' house; an old book, even in the 1960s. It sent shivers up my spine but I couldn't resist it. I wish I knew what had happened to it - it's apparently impossible to find a copy of it now. Maybe I would hate it as an adult. But I've never forgotten it.

4. The School at the Chalet by Elinor M Brent-Dyer - This is another book which I initially discovered at my grandparents' home, along with about fifteen of the sequels. I was perhaps eight or nine when I started reading these; I already loved Enid Blyton's Mallory Towers books, but there was so much more depth in the Chalet School series. I was thrilled to find the entire series (over 50 books!) in the library at my secondary school. The first book isn't my favourite by a long way; it's a bit slow-moving and I'd recommend new readers to start with the second. But it was my entry into the wonderful world of thinking, discussing, interesting education. The books also reinforced the importance of honesty and authenticity, and close families; it also helped me understand good sportsmanship. I wanted to be Joey Maynard when I grew up.

5. Gemma by Noel Streatfeild. I'd read 'Ballet Shoes', of course, and various others by this author, but I think I was about ten before I came across 'Gemma' and its three sequels, and was totally captivated. Wonderful family stories, even if they do include the typecast highly gifted children!

6. Mystery at Witchend by Malcolm Saville. Again, the first of a series and not my favourite of the 20 'Lone Pine' books; but it was the introduction to yet another world of friendship mixed with loyalty and love.

7. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte - We had to read the first two or three chapters of this for English homework one weekend when I was around 14. I started reading.. and couldn't put it down. I emerged, starry-eyed, when it was time for lunch and kept reading afterwards. I asked for a copy of my own for Christmas and re-read it many times. It was my favourite book for years.

8. An Old-fashioned girl by Louisa M Alcott - I'd read the 'Little Women' books, but came across this lesser-known teenage novel by the same author when I was about fifteen. I fell in love with it and have read it many times.

9. The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, age 37 3/4 by Adrian Plass - I first read this shortly after it was published in 1987, and it was the first book ever to make me laugh out loud on almost every page. It pokes gentle satirical fun at the silliness of some (all right, a lot of) Christians, and yet is incredibly thought-provoking at the same time. I became an instant Plass fan, and have read all his other books, but the first one (which STILL makes me chuckle when I re-read it) has a special place in my heart.

10. Dogger by Shirley Hughes. I first came across this when a friend's small daughter borrowed it from school - so although it's a children's picture book, I didn't actually read it until around 1990. She read half of it to me, and I read the rest to myself later; it was so lovely, it brought tears to my eyes. I bought it for my sons, and read it to them - difficult without choking up - and gradually they grew out of it. But it's one of the picture book I've kept, and when I got it out to read to small friends in the past few years, it made me cry all over again. I love all Shirley Hughes' books, but 'Dogger' is, I think, my all-time favourite picture book.

So - that's ten books, all of which influenced me in some way, all of which have reinforced positive character traits and the importance of family and friends. I think that's probably why they stood out in my mind; a couple of hours after writing the Facebook update, I think these are still the ten I would choose.

As I was writing my list, I did remember many other books that have been important to me over the years. As a child, I loved the Paddington series by Michael Bond, AA Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham, books by E Nesbit, Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery, and many more. In more recent years I've discovered and enjoyed the 'Sophie' series by Dick King-Smith, and the series starting with 'Saffy's Angel' by Hilary McKay. And I suppose if I want to be literal about a book staying with me, I should also mention 'I had trouble in getting to Solla Sollew' by Dr Seuss, which I used to read nightly to my sister, and can still recite, pretty much, from memory.

But while I read and enjoyed all those books, and others, I don't think they affected me on a deep level as the ones on my list did. Having said that, I should give a special mention to 'Treasures of the Snow' by Patricia M St John; I first read that when I was about six and it had a profound influence on my life and my early Christian faith. It certainly affected me as a child, in a far-reaching way; but I haven't read it in a long time, and didn't think of it until I'd finished my list. Perhaps I should re-read it soon.

As a young adult, I enjoyed books by Georgette Heyer, and PG Wodehouse, and Rosamunde Pilcher; these were my stepping stones from children's fiction into books intended for adults, so they are significant in that respect; I've discovered many great authors in the past thirty years or so. But I haven't been influenced by fiction as an adult nearly as much as I was as a child. But then, my core values and beliefs were mostly formed by the time I was in my twenties.

Attributes of God and the Enneagram

Much of what I have been reading recently has reminded me that EVERYTHING that is good and true is of God. That includes theories, books, songs, art (etc) which are created or invented by atheists or those of other faiths. God made us all, and gave us different talents and abilities, and there is something of God in everyone, whether or not they acknowledge it.

(There is a corollary to this, concerning that which is not good or true, even if created by devout Christian believers... but I am not going there. Not today, anyway)

The Enneagram is a system of understanding people's personalities at a deep level, with patterns of growth for each of them. It's used by some in the Catholic Church, and has significant spiritual insights. Unsurprisingly it also has its critics, mostly those who dislike the fact that it's used in Sufi tradition, and may have some Pagan origins. The symbol itself tends to look a bit suspect at first glance, but an Ennegram is simply a nine-pointed star, and is used as a visual representation of the nine main groups of people as described by the Enneagram.

I don't enquire as to the belief system of those who built my computer, or my kitchen appliances; I don't reject chairs and tables because they undoubtedly had some of their origins and development amongst Pagan cultures. If something is good and right, then it is, at least to some extent, of God.

I've read several books about the Enneagram, some of them specifically from a Christian perspective. It's not as simple to grasp as the more popular Myers-Briggs system, as there are no dichotomies; to make it more complicated, the root of each Enneagram type is our deepest besetting sin, and many of us really don't want to acknowledge what's at our roots. So we learn to behave like other people, and often relate strongly to another type until we are honest enough with ourselves to peel away the outer layers and look at what's in our hearts.

Online tests are notoriously inaccurate in their results; there are many which attempt to pinpoint Enneagram types, but I think probably the least bad is the Eclectic Energies test. Unfortunately, I don't really like the rest of that site, or the descriptions. But if you find your most likely type (or types), then the 9 Types site has a pretty good set of descriptions of each of them, although inevitably nobody will fit 100% with any, and many will relate to three or four of them, at least to some extent.

I can still relate quite strongly to five out of the nine types, even though I'm certain now, after many years of study and discussion, that my actual type is the Nine.

All of which is introductory to something I read recently in the book 'Enneagram II' by Richard Rohr. He mentions that we don't just have a self-image and besetting sin that fits with our type, but we also tend to have specific views of God that tie in with our Enneagram types. And while each of them has some truth, they are very limiting, and can lead to a false view of who God is.

That led me to think in a new way about the different names and attributes of God which are sometimes mentioned in hymns, songs and prayers. Sometimes these pass me by - I know intellectually that they are all true, but I mentally shrug.. to me, God is always present, always loving - which is true. But not the whole truth, apparently. It was quite chastening to read that the false image of God for type Nines is: "...a quiet, constant, unquestioned Presence...".  

I wanted to insist that this was true, and far more significant than the God-image for the other types... and yet it began to make sense as I read on, with the recommendation to believe in a more active God who might ask me to do something, might want me to experience great joy, or even righteous anger. 

So now, when people - or songs - mention different names or attributes of God, I'm mentally assigning them to one or more of the nine Enneagram types. And suddenly I can see the value of these different aspects of God.

As a very brief summary of positive traits and images:

• Type One is the perfectionist, always wanting to do what's right in everyone's eyes. Ones will tend to relate primarily to God as the Judge, as all-seeing and holy. 

• Type Two is the Helper, meeting people's needs, usually generous and warm-hearted. Twos will tend to relate primarily to God as Love, as the one who provides for us. 

• Type Three is the Achiever, full of energy and self-confidence, determined to get things done. Threes will tend to relate primarily to God as Creator, who gets things done.

• Type Four is the Romantic, the classic artistic temperament, able to see and create great beauty in life. Fours will tend to relate primarily to God as Artist, and reach out to him in darkness. 

• Type Five is the Observer, the detached and usually intelligent researcher. Fives tend to relate primarily to God as the 'Logos', the all-knowing supreme intelligence.

• Type Six is the Questioner, who is totally loyal and committed, concerned about many things. Sixes tend to relate primarily to God as Refuge or Rock, as the one who offers security and salvation.

• Type Seven is the Adventurer, full of energy and optimism, often a risk-taker. Sevens will tend to relate primarily to God as Light and Life, as the giver of joy. 

• Type Eight is the Asserter, who stands up for the weak, and leads with courage. Eights will tend to relate primarily to God as King, as all-powerful and mighty.

• Type Nine is the Peacemaker, who seeks harmony and sees all points of view. Nines will tend to relate primarily to God as omnipresent, showing mercy and giving peace. 

Caricatures, undoubtedly. The Enneagram is so much more, and can't be summarised properly, even in a much longer article, as it has immense depth.

But still. It made me ponder. 

Paths and Fields

I'm not the kind of person to learn things step by step. I tend, on the whole, to observe, ponder, read, ponder some more and gradually assimilate understanding. Sometimes a paragraph in a book, or something I notice will trigger an 'aha!' moment - a light in my brain which illuminates something I had not quite grasped before, or maybe a trigger which enable everything to move around a little, fitting into a better place. Either way, it's not a linear or arithmetical process.

Right now, my mind is swirling with the concept of paths, of many different paths leading towards - or, indeed away from - God. That doesn't mean I've become a relativist, or that I think all religions are equally valid. I believe, absolutely, in the one God, Creator of the universe, as revealed in the Bible and through Jesus. Indeed, I can say with confidence the full Nicene Creed, something which is recited in one form or another in the Anglican Church in which I grew up, and to which I still feel significant affiliation.

I also believe that every human being is a unique individual: a complexity of ingrained God-given personality, of circumstances, of culture, and so on. Which means that each of us is on an individual path through life, at different stages, and often going (or apparently so) in different directions. I am aware that there are those who deliberately turn their backs on God and walk away, knowing perfectly well what they are doing. I don't know what will happen to a person in this deliberately antagonistic state if they die unredeemed. I can't bring myself to believe in the kind of 'hell' popularised by Dante; I'm more inclined to CS Lewis's view that even after death there may be the opportunity to turn to God, but that those who rejected God in life will probably continue to do so forever.

Sadly, there are many who have turned their back on God without really understanding what they are doing. Perhaps they misheard or misunderstood the message. Perhaps their childhood was so fraught with tragedy or abuse that they cannot accept a loving God reaching out to them. Perhaps they have been put off by the rigidity of some Christians who claim that there is only one possible path to God, and that anyone who doesn't join that one path is doomed to eternal punishment.

Or perhaps they see Christians being intolerant, selfish, gluttonous, self-righteous... all those sins which were condemned in the Bible every bit as much as the more obvious carnal sins, but which are a lot more difficult to measure.

I don't know what will happen to people like these when they come face to face with Jesus. But I know that God is love. It's not for me to judge, either those on the path away or those (including myself) who may have contributed to the direction in which they are going. My task is to share what I know of God who loves us all.

But what of those who are aware of God's love, whether or not they realise who God is? What of the many and diverse styles and doctrines and cultures even amongst those of us who attempt to follow Jesus? Should we who are within the Body of Christ attempt to tell our brothers and sisters in Christ how we see things, what we believe they should and should not be doing? What happens two people who love God, and can genuinely recite the Nicene Creed, have diverse views about - for instance - whether or not women should be allowed to be church leaders, or how long it took God to create the world, or how parents should raise and educate their children?

I wrote recently about the importance of acceptance, of what we see as 'normal'. We change through our lives, and most of us accept that others change too. We don't expect a great work of art from a two-year-old experimenting with crayons, or a best-selling novel from a six-year-old typing a story onto a computer. But we do expect progress.

Sometimes, though, we have to go backwards before we can move on. If I type quite fast with two fingers but want to learn to touch type, I will have to slow my pace quite significantly before I can learn a new method. If I want to revitalise a garden which has been neglected over many years, I may have to pull up many of the plants that are growing there, to get rid of some of the used soil, to fertilise and remove stones, and leave the ground fallow for a while before I can start growing new plants. When we make bread, we let it rise... then punch the dough down, apparently undoing all the good that the yeast has done, before kneading some more and letting it rise again.

In addition, not everybody has a passion for gardening, or typing, or drawing, or bread-making. We have different talents, different 'callings', different ways of relating to the world in which our primary concerns are to love God and to love other people. So I may demonstrate God's glory by my artwork, and bake bread for my neighbours; you might worship God through music, and babysit for your friends and acquaintances.

Books about personality types stress that there are four (or nine - or sixteen - or whatever the system happens to be) broad categories of people, ALL of whom are valuable. We can all learn in different ways, but one style will come most naturally to each of us. We all have a variety of talents, but only one or two are likely to become our passions. We all make mistakes, miss opportunities, think negative things... but we each have one deep-rooted sinful tendency, which we may not even recognise. We can criticise each other, ignoring our own problems, or we can acknowledge our inherent sinfulness and reach out to others, and to God, in love.

So there are many paths, many ways we can move towards God during our lifetimes. I'm seeing the concept of 'different paths' in many places, with the kind of synchronicity which nudges me, prompting me to be increasingly sure that this is from God. I see it in the local church: your current path might be Anglo-Catholic, his path Greek Orthodox, her path evangelical charismatic. If it's where God has called each person, then that is the right place, at that time, for that person. If God is currently calling someone out of a local congregation, then that is a right path too. Nobody has full access to the truth about God or about worship; we are, as one speaker put it, tiny parts of a stained glass window which, as a whole, reflects a fragment of God's glory.

A few years ago, talking with friends about God's plans and purposes, we realised that it's important not to take the concept of a path too strictly. God does not control us like puppets on a string; we make our own choices in life, and that's part of maturing. As parents encourage their children to spread their wings, to follow their own dreams, to make their own decisions - even if they turn out to be bad decisions - so God gives us our senses, our intelligence and our experience to help us to grow.

So while there is a path each of us, albeit meandering, ahead of us is something more akin to a field. It has boundaries over which we should not stray, but within that field we can go in any direction we like. Sometimes Christians get very stressed about guidance: offered two jobs, which one does God wants us to take? Which car does God want us to buy? Which supermarket does God want us to shop in....?

Undoubtedly God cares about every detail of our lives, and it's fine to pray, to consult God about anything, no matter how trivial. But having done so, if there is no sense of guidance, and no clear Biblical reason not to do something, then I believe that it's fine to take whatever option appeals.

Even if our choice turns out to be a mistake, God does not become angry. We may have to deal with negative consequences - if a car turns out to have multiple problems, for instance, or if we find personality clashes in a new job - but that does not mean that our decision was 'wrong', or even that a different one would have been 'right'. Nor does it mean that we are abandoned. God works with us where we are, as a parent picks up a toddler who falls over, and reaches out a hand to help a child who stumbles.

Even if we go against what God told us, our heavenly Father will never leave us. If a child in a field wants to pick blackberries, the parent might warn him to be careful about the nearby nettles. That will not stop a careless (or curious) child from walking into the nettle patch, and then suffering the consequence of being badly stung. No loving parent stands with arms folded saying, 'Well, that happened because you disobeyed. If you want me to help you, you have to do what I tell you to do.' A good parent rushes to rescue the child, probably risking being stung too, and looks for dock leaves or something else that will ease the child's discomfort, offering hugs and reassurance. The child does not need to be told that he did something stupid: he knows that perfectly well.

It saddens me when I meet people who seem to be hemmed in by fear, convinced that if they step aside from a narrow path, they will - like Little Red Riding Hood - be eaten by a hungry wolf. Yes, Jesus talks about a narrow gate - see Matthew 7:13. Elsewhere, Jesus talks about himself as a door or gate - see John 10:9. I saw a dramatised explanation of this in a children's assembly many years ago, when an elderly clergyman formed several children into a fence with a gap, allowing other children (representing sheep) to go in and out. At night, we were told, it was dangerous for sheep to be out of their pen so in New Testament times a shepherd herded his sheep into their pens, then lay down to block the gap.

The gap was narrow, and anywhere other than the pen could indeed lead to destruction. But the sheep did not have to worry about anything other than going where their shepherd led them. Once in the pen - through the 'gate' - they were free to wander where they wished, to eat whatever looked appetising.

Jesus is the only 'gate', and we need to walk with him, in the place where he wants us to be. But as in a nurturing family, there are many options every day, and Jesus - in the same passage as the one about being the gate - promised us life in abundance, in stark contrast to the thief who wants to steal and destroy.

Normality and judgement

I once said, semi-jokingly, that I don't feel judgemental about anything much, other than people who are judgemental. I can tolerate anything except for intolerance. I suppose it's part of my built-in personality type that I tend to look for common ground with everyone, and am always interested to see alternative viewpoints. My concepts of 'normal' are inevitably coloured by my upbringing and culture, and I find it interesting to learn why other people do things differently.

When moving to another country - or returning to one's home country after living abroad - it's all too easy to make negative comparisons, but when one is fully adjusted (as far as that is ever possible), it becomes clear that most of what people do in public is neither right nor wrong - it's cultural. Table manners are an obvious (and, I hope, non-controversial) example. How we set the table, what implements we use (if any), how we eat... these are not moral issues, but conventions which vary, sometimes within a country as well as when living abroad.

But if someone criticises this kind of thing, I become quite defensive. And yet, feeling critical about differences is basically another kind of personality trait; perhaps grounded in insecurity, but not necessarily wrong. It may be based on ignorance - a misunderstanding of 'normal', or an over-blown sense of 'right' in this sort of context.  So if someone comments that X is using the 'wrong hand', or 'eating messily', I want to stand up and explain that in their culture it's quite acceptable, even normal, and that the person making the criticism is equally weird to people from elsewhere.

That's not a particularly helpful attitude on my behalf, but when the issue is table manners, it's minor. If I can point out, gently, that we all have our own cultural expectations and conventions, it may help someone to be a little more aware of the wider world. Then again, it may also make the other person defensive, or even cause them to feel that I am criticising their culture or choices.

Still, most people can accept - and perhaps experiment with - different foods or styles of eating. If we move to another country, we may even adopt something that feels awkward at first (chopsticks, perhaps, or dipping bread in a communal bowl) but which soon becomes second nature.

But 'normality', to each of us, is far more than conventions at mealtimes. We have worldviews about - for instance - rights and privileges, medical care, education, nutrition, the origin of mankind, discipline, religion and faith. We may learn these overtly from our parents, we may absorb them from our environment, we may learn them at school, or from our peers. They change, as we grow and mature, too; or as different circumstances prompt us to re-think where we stand, what we believe in.

A few weeks ago, for instance, I wrote a post about home education. I tried to keep the post balanced, but inevitably, due to our experiences here, I am generally positive about home education. I am aware that it does not work for everyone, and that a few people may use it as a cover-up for nefarious activities or neglect. However, my worldview on the whole promotes education at home.

It wasn't always that way, though. When we moved to the US in the early 1990s, I had never come across home education (other than the governess/tutor style in historical novels). At that point, I assumed that institutional education was not just normal, but right - that parents needed to be involved in schools, to be sure, but that teachers were the professionals and that children needed peer interactions, group discussions, and so on.

I went to school, after all, and - on the whole - liked it. When challenged, I did admit that a lot of it was a waste of time, and that fifteen years later I didn't remember much of what we learned. But still.. school was, in my worldview of the time, 'normal'. And, I thought, that was right and good. The people we met in the US who 'homeschooled' spent a lot of money on private curricula, and the parents could never take a break. Surely, I thought, it would be a disaster....

Yet the homeschooled children I met were actually normal, likeable young people with a lively interest in learning. Gradually I developed an admiration for parents who would do this, and mild envy that they could afford it. I was still convinced that a curriculum was necessary, that teaching had to be formal, that only the most compliant children could satisfactorily learn in this way. My husband - who hated his schooldays - felt that since he had to suffer school, his children probably should, too. How else, he asked, could they learn to deal with the tedium of adult work? It was an odd, false logic, but I was too unsure myself to insist, despite our older son having a terrible time (and learning almost nothing) in his school.

Fast forward to Cyprus, and we not only started home educating, we learned to love it, to see the value of both formal and informal learning, of curriculum where appropriate, and unschooling/eclectic education the rest of the time. I'm now a tremendous advocate of home education and it's hard, sometimes, to remember that many (perhaps most) people are at the stage I was twenty years ago. And it's not that I'm 'advanced' in my education worldview. I also know of people who at one point were adamant that home education was the only way, but who gradually discover that their children (or at least some of them) flourish in a classroom environment.

That's just one example of core assumptions; of what we perceive as normal and 'right', but which can change - even reverse - as circumstances dictate. When we are open-minded, we can listen to people whose views differ, perhaps learn from them, and perhaps teach them something too. Unfortunately, human nature in general is inclined to keep tight hold of whatever is our current normality, and try to impose it on everyone else.

It's a fine line, and one which I'm still thinking through. We're experimenting with vegetarian eating during Lent (with exceptions on Sundays and other 'feast days'). I'm inclined to be veggie anyway; if I lived alone, I doubt if I would ever eat meat. But my husband has - as so many others do - some kind of built-in need to eat meat. This isn't just craving, say, a steak, or some tandoori chicken, and it's not dislike of beans or lentils. It's the feeling, after two or three days of veggie food, that meat (ANY kind of meat) is needed.

I don't have this need at all. Two weeks into Lent, I have no inclination to eat any kind of meat, even on Sundays. Worse (from the perspective of the family) I find myself almost taking on board some of the things that veggie or vegan friends have been saying about meat-eating for years, which I have previously pushed aside. Vegetarianism is already feeling more 'normal' (because I like it) and suddenly I have an urge to distribute recipes, to experiment with different ways of cooking beans and lentils, and - not so good - to discover all the potential disadvantages inherent in meat-eating, so as (I suppose) to consolidate my position.

Yet, I recognise that there are many people who, apparently, need to eat meat. After Lent, I will no doubt start cooking it again, and will probably eat it too, since I don't want to make life difficult for the various meat-eating family and friends who will entertain us in future. So, right now, I'm doing all I can to subdue the veggie agenda in my mind.

Then there's church.

Yes, that hot potato, that topic that keeps recurring on this blog, and in the writing of so many other people, in books and online. I've been attending weekly church services recently, and finding them fairly benign; I quite like the songs, I like seeing some people who I don't see anywhere else, and I like the walk on a Sunday morning. As a child, I took church-going for granted. As a young adult, I assumed it was essential for all Christians to belong to a particular local church. I don't think I was legalistic about it: to miss a service was acceptable due to illness, or exhaustion, or even on occasion having to do something else. But on the whole I liked going.

Nowadays I still acknowledge that we are part of the church (both universal and local), and that the purpose of the church is to encourage and build each other up, to exercise our gifts, to reach out to others who are part of the Body. And, of course, we should offer ourselves continually to God. I just don't find Sunday morning services to be a good place to do these things. I find the proximity of other people quite draining, the monologue of a sermon rather annoying (and sometimes sleep-inducing) and the singing of familiar songs, more often than not, means that my mind is miles away.

But still, so many people - particularly church leaders - insist that it's important, even vital to be present at these weekly gatherings. They put them on a par with prayer and reading the Bible...and I don't get it. I don't mind church services. I'm happy that other people benefit from them. I recognise that for many, communal singing is a form of worship, and that a sermon may teach them something about God, or inspire them to be closer to him during the week. That's great. But these things don't apply to me (or only rarely). I would feel like a misfit, were it not for the many others around the world feeling the same way, expressing their views far more vocally than I do.

And I want to stay open. I recognise that church gatherings - like school education - can be good, and right. Maybe for the majority they are a good thing. I just wish they would not try to impose them on those who find God to be closer outside of church gatherings. Guilt-tripping about anything - whether church meetings, or nutrition, or politics, or morals - makes people angry and inclined to rebel.

At least, that's how it works for me.