Dreaming

I know, I know, two posts in one day, what is that all about? Technically it's a new day now, though, so I think it's alright. Well, I've been babysitting this evening, which gives me a good chance to consolidate a lot of the things I needed to get done without distractions (apart from small children waking up crying, but that's fine and par for the course...), but in doing so I've managed to stumble across a load of poems that I wrote when I was at university.

This one that I found is about that strangely entertaining thing where you dream that you're in a relationship with someone who you're really *not* in a relationship with, then you have to work out those odd pseudo-feelings the next day. I dream a lot, and this happened to me recently, so it entertained me when I found it and empathised entirely with the me of two years ago...

The Dream

The strangeness of dreaming,

The form that it takes,

When it infiltrates daytime,

But causes mistakes

In the way that I see you

‘cos those things aren’t real

But it starts to take over

The way that I feel.

I look at you different

For the things that you said

In the world that’s not quite there,

But inside my head;

Because we were different

And things weren’t the same -

Like the way that you smiled

When you whispered my name;

And the way that your hand

Fit so perfect in mine

As we walked through the gardens

Of the depths of my mind.

But real life takes over

And you don’t know the change

That splits me in daytime,

Disregarding the range

Of emotions I should feel,

Versus ones that I do…

These emotions seem real,

But should they be about you?

With that, sweet dreams,

Em x

Well, I just met you, and this is crazy...

...but here's a blog post, so read it maybe? :) 

I'm not going to lie, I've had Carly Rae Jepson's song Call Me Maybe in my head for about a week now. It is ridiculous, and I've nearly sung it inappropriately at so many people this week too (I work with too many married Christian men for singing 'here's my number, call me maybe' under my breath to be an appropriate action. It's not really appropriate with the unmarried Christian men either, come to think of it...). But anyway, this is entirely not what I was going to write about, but it's in my head, and I promised you 'the inner amusement of Sturge' so that's what you get.

*Actually* I was going to show you two photos of some cool new things I acquired in the last fortnight or so: a beautiful Cath Kidston bag, and a cute hummingbird/tea-cup necklace. Exhibit a, and b.

So. Cute eh? The real joy, however, is that neither of these are actually real.

Ok, so they *are* real, but what I mean to say is, they're not what they appear, they have a story, there's something more to them than the cutesy kitsch that first catches the eye. The bag - that is a Cath Kidston design of bag, made with Cath Kidston fabric - but made by my delightful housemate, Bryony, as a birthday present. It is absolutely adorable, and I love it so much; but it is so much better for knowing that rather than going out and spending a silly amount of money on me (because CK things are silly amounts of money, let's face it), she spent a silly amount of time and energy making something beautiful for me. And I'm not kidding, it really is wonderfully well made. It means so much to receive a present that somebody's put time and energy into, I was so genuinely touched.

The necklace - well, who knows what its story is? My joy in it is that I bought it at Oxfam for £2.50, the rim of the tea-cup already slighly worn, but is so adorable. The chain is gorgeously double-linked, and the hummingbird is so sweet, and it just sits incredibly pleasingly.I think I just love with charity shop buys that you have no idea who's already loved them. I like to think that maybe someone had a pet tiny person who liked drinking tea, and riding humming birds, and when they passed away, as pet tiny people sadly do, they made this necklace in memory of them. I'm almost certain that's how this necklace came about...

Anyway.

In other news, life's getting pretty exciting now: I'm graduating next weekend (yes, it is almost a year since I sat my finals, but this is how Oxford weirdly rolls) which means I get to doll myself up and live life 'a la gown' once more, getting to see all of my friends who I haven't seen in almost a year in the process. Hurrah! Then, the weekend after that, my dear Mica gets married and I have the honour of being her bridesmaid. :) This too involves dolling oneself up, and also doing much processing, smiling, listening while official stuff happens, and seeing lots of people I've not seen in a while; and also ends with something joyful that has been worked hard on, and will last forever. Which is pretty excellent. 

Yes, that's right people, I just analogised my graduation with one of my best friend's weddings. Boom.

I'm also looking for a house for the coming year, and praying in the good stuff for my prospective housemates so all the financial and geographical logistics of that fall into place...and then in amongst all that joy I also find myself applying for a Masters at Reading University, in Species Identification and Survey Skills. It's all crazy, but crazy in such a good way, I'm just so excited about it. Praise the Lord, eh? I've said it before, but sometimes life is just really exciting.

Having already given you a link to Call Me Maybe, and some photos, I probably shouldn't spoil you with any more media really, but here...have a little bit of BBT: Sheldon playing bongos, a beautiful sight. 

'Penny forgot to use the subjunctive...'

Na-Night x

Drinking Cuppa-soup with God on a Sunday Evening...

...That is one of the wonderful joys of life.

I can only suggest you try it.

That's all for today :)

Love x

For good stuff, listen to Jimmy Needham's new album, Clear the Stage. I am, and it's great.

Spring has Sprung, Port Meadow trips have begun

Hooray! It's Spring! This joyous occurrence means that at the end of the working day it's not already dark, and also isn't too cold to venture out in. This wonderful combination, and a desire earlier in the week to visit Port Meadow that was perfect all except for the missed photographic opportunity, caused me to dust off my camera and head out after work today. And who did I find there, apart from stampeding horses, but my lovely housemate Anadi and her fiance, Dave :)

At last, I can complete the third objective of this blog: Photograph it.

Enjoy...

 Port Meadow being beautiful and calm, apart from the horses on their way...

 ...Standing my ground among the stampeding horses...

 ...with more coming! This one on the left ran straight at me for a LONG time before it swerved off...

 ...and off they go...

 ...just leaving their tracks, and a sense of relief, behind.

 Mrs Duck, who enjoys a little croissant of an evening (posh, North Oxford duck)

 Mr Duck

 Particularly gorgeous housemate

 Joyfully watching Mrs Duck eating croissant off Anandi's coat

 Mrs Duck proves just how far she'll go for a tasty French snack

 Cheeky

 This cutie was more interested in my camera than her owner's persistent calls that she carried on

D&A

Hopefully now the camera's been dusted off, and the light is back, and there's life in the city again, 'Photograph it' will happen a little more often...but until then. 

Love, Em x

If I were a butterfly, and other deep philosophical musings.

Hello again! It's been a while, eh? I realised that the last blog post I wrote, and never finished nor published, was about realising you've said Yes to too many things. The lack of post speaks for itself really, doesn't it?

ANYWAY, I've just got back to Oxford after a fantastic long-weekend at home in Northampton, which included an eye-test and the purchase of new glasses (expensive); an MOT (extortionately expensive); coffee, catch-ups and an evening in with Rhoda (excellent); lunch with six other Sturgi [yes, that's the plural of Sturgess] (homely and lovely); a catch-up with Mica (wonderfully weddingy); and an evening in with my parents, my Granny and a few episodes of Pride & Prejudice (bonnetty and swoony). I'm not quite sure where that was going, narrative-wise, but you've now got a comprehensive run-down of what, in my mind, is a great way to spend a weekend.

Now, Dad and I were talking about this yesterday, about how sometimes you get a song in your head for what is apparently no reason, and you're sure it was prompted by something, but you just cannot work out what it was. Well, welcome to my weekend of having the song If I Were A Butterfly floating persistently in and out of my mind, like...well, a really irritating floaty thing. Or even, a butterfly. If you're not sure what the song If I Were A Butterfuly is, and I'm sure you will, these are the lyrics:

If I were a butterfly, I’d thank you Lord for giving me wings
If I were a robin in a tree, I’d thank you Lord that I could sing
If I were a fish in the sea, I’d wiggle my tail and I’d giggle with glee
But I just thank you father for making me, me.

  

For you gave me a heart and you gave me a smile
You gave me Jesus and you made me your child
And I just thank you Father for making me, me.

(also, if you watch the link, you must forgive them the fact that their butterfly is, in fact, a dragonfly, and their 'robing' is some other kind of bird...) 

And so on it goes, with other great lines like 'If I were a fuzzy wuzzy bear I'd thank you lord for my fuzzy wuzzy hair' (a sentiment I'm sure we all share), and 'If I were a kangaroo I'm sure I'd hop right up to you' (as if hopping up to God were within the capabilities of a kangaroo; or, if it were that simple, we didn't have any other means of travelling towards God. Like, in a rocket, or anything.)

But what actually, strangely, struck me was the line 'I just thank you father for making me, me.'

I have to say, I've known this song an awfully long time, and I'm not sure that at any point while singing have I actually been thanking God for making me, me. I'm pretty sure most times, subconsciously, I've sung 'but I just thank you father for making all these cool animals with crazy things I don't have :D'. Ever the Biologist.

This could very easily turn into a self-sepreciating rant, which I will not let it do: but do you ever actually thank God for making you, you? Just you? I have to say, I often don't, but this made me do it, and it was very refreshing, in a very Psalm 139-esque way.

So I challenge you to just take a moment. Think about how God has made you. Think about the passions he has put in your heart, and the dreams in your head. Think about your giftings and talents. [Don't think about someone else's, just yours.] Think about the things that make you, you. Now actually THANK God for them, rather than writing a list of things you need to work on. 

You do that a moment, and I'll sit here and hum If I Were A Butterfly while you do it (I've done mine already...).

Great, well done - we're nothing if not interactive.

Now, treat yourself - if you're anything like me you've been singing If I were a butterfly to the tune of the Pride and Prejudice themetune. Have a little gander at the yummy, yummy end, and let your heart-cockles be warmed. 

Gilets and Jesus.

So, last week felt like an incredibly momentous one for me. Having put it off for an incredibly long time, what with saving money for Christmas presents, and generally just not being particularly extravagant with my money, I finally went for the investment and bought myself this,  FatFace's infamous Georgina Gilet. In Grey. A Grey Georgina Gilet. My heart literally melts. A wonderful friend of mine, Helen, had come down for the evening, and was taking me on a 'hot date' after work, allowing me to choose what we did, and I chose to shop. And shop I did.


If I'm honest, there's more to this than having just bought a new piece of clothing - it was more like taking a new step: a step of newness out of an old situation that needed leaving behind. A step of newness into an independence where I can decide where my 'treat' money goes. A step of newness out of that limiting thinking that to be warm you need to have sleeves. (And oh! How very wrong that thinking is!) It was like not only was I purchasing an item of clothing that would put me up there in trendiness with the Helen Jenkins, Debbie Gliddons, Charlotte Martins and Katie McCraws of this world (some stylish high-flyers there), but it was like the start of a new season of me. 


'Me and my Gilet (and yes, in a way it does require the capitalising...) can take on the world!', I was thinking to myself - in the way I always think about my bike when it's got new brake pads, or my hair when it's been properly straightened. It was glorious, and along with Tina (my new little car), it felt there was nothing I couldn't acheive, if only I could decide what it was I wanted to do. This may be a little exaggeration, but you see my point. Gilet idolatry. Gilet symbollism. Gilet significance. 


Then on Sunday (don't worry, if you can feel a twist to this tale, you would be right, but be assured that NO HARM has come to the Gilet. In fact, I am wearing it right now because my attic bedroom is an *ice-box*), at church, good old Stevey-J spoke about being Rooted in the Cross (which once I've uploaded onto the website tomorrow, will be on this link here. Listen, it's strong stuff.). He spoke about the significance of what Jesus did on the cross. He spoke about how his death and resurrection reconciled us with God, made us 'at one' with Him, having paid off the moral debt our backlog of, and our future, wrong-doings creates that keeps us separate from Him. He spoke about how it makes us Righteous in God's sight - as if we'd never sinned, accepted into relationship with God, and continually transformed to be like Him. Yeah - me, righteous? I know...but you too. He spoke about just how much God loves us, that the ransom he would pay to give us freedom from our sins was for him to humble himself from Heaven and be like us, and to die a humilating death so that we don't have to offer sacrifices every time we mess up - and never be able to get on with living. He spoke about how this shows that God is both completely just, because sin has been punished, just as he said it must be; but completely merciful, because He covered all that cost himself. And how there is nothing that we can do that will make God love us any more, or any less, than he infinitely already does - regardless of what our self-worth or our pride might tell us. Noooothing. It is fixed in complete, loyal, rock-steady unconditionality. 


And having considered all that, and gone back to the basics of what the cross is about, and what salvation is - the transforming power of The Gilet pales into insignificance when I consider what the cross changes and marks. It allows that every day is a new start, free from the things that have held me back. It allows that I know that I am fully, 100% loved and accepted, despite in all other respects being fully, 100% single. And it allows that I can have a daily relationship with the most perfect and mighty being in all of time and space -because I'm made righteous by an action I never deserved.

So, my dearest darling Gilet, I love you with passion that few other items of clothing will ever receive - however, when it comes to taking on the world with a new attitude, it's my Jesus that's going to be coming with me. I mean, you can totally come too, obviously, I've gotta stay warm, but Jesus will be doing the butt-kicking, not you. I hope that's ok. 

To finish, I leave you with a video that's been doing the rounds this week that is just so great - a guy poeming about the difference between religion and relationship. I love this way of putting it across, it's a winner for me. 

Until next time, ciao :)

Sign it with a Kiss (or some cake)

I would begin by apologising for a week between blog posts, but in reality who with a life can manage to blog more than once a week?! So no apologies ;)- but what a week! The highlight was, without-a-doubt, the beautiful wedding of Jack and Claire on Saturday: a beautiful service, a fantastic time of catching up with old and dearly loved and missed friends, and lots of fun playing and dancing at the reception. For me it was a particular joy, as I'd been asked to play in the ceilidh band in the evening, playing medleys of old jigs and reels. It was the first time I'd ever done it, and a previously-undiscovered wonderment! There's something brilliant about getting a tune right under your fingers, and feeling the tune getting faster and faster as you send the dancers into frenzied swirls around the dancefloor beneath you that mimic the frenzy of your own fingers. Anyway, as I said in the first blog that I would mention 'things that make me tick' there is your mention. I love playing ceilidh music. My added bonus is that I get to go back to college on Friday and join in with a ceilidh there, and get to dance it this time. Bounteous joy, I am lavished with it :) ...Have just been distracted for many minutes by a youtube guy who's posted a fiddle-tune a day for a year. What a legend.

Anyway.

Today's joy is that I've started back at British Sign Language classes again for the new year, and new module! Wahey! Didn't know I go to BSL classes? Well, I go to BSL classes! (Glad we've cleared that one up...).Our teacher, Jill, is an absolute delight, she's so funny, and is also profoundly deaf,  so we have no choice but to sign with her; it can make communicating tasks in the lessons hard but ultimately makes us using our signing much more, and get better at. She likes to tease us for both our under- and over-emphasis of how we sign...today we were learning about how facial expressions make a difference to the same signs, in the way tone of voice normally would for us, and how to sign emotions. This lead to some beautifully mockable overexaggerations of a love of cake. This may or may not have been me...

In other news, I have just indulged in a delicious slice of fruitcake with creme fraiche, home-made by Bry's Dad. Yeah, ok, the cake lover was me.

Right-o, today we're going to comedic Emily-basics today. Many of you may have seen my facebook status earlier that said: "LOVE IT. Lady on the phone just asked me genuinely to 'bare with'. If only she knew...". Sadly to me a certain colleague in the office (who I shan't name, but my disappointment in his comedic knowledge is enough to give it away) admitted he'd never seen Miranda before. So, to put this status in context, I give you sadly not a 'bear with!' quote, as I can't for the life of me find one, but a most excellent clip nonetheless...may it begin your Miranda-related trawling of the internets in search of lols :)

Enjoy!