Christ Church, Longridge

Dear Friends,

As you [may] know, since September 2008 our son Daniel has been serving as a Medic out in Afghanistan, firstly in Kandahar then latterly at Camp Bastion. Just recently he was back in the UK for two weeks R&R and it was lovely to see him safe and well. Colin and I were overjoyed that he took the time whilst home, to make his engagement to girlfriend Lowri official – as in, he took her to buy ‘the ring’!!

Before he left, I asked him if he would write a few lines to let you know how the boxes of ‘goodies’ I’ve been sending out to him were distributed. The ‘Buddy Box’ at the back of church has become a familiar sight, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank all those who have contributed and to let you know that I will continue to send them until the end of February.

The following piece that he left me to forward to you, explains far better than I ever could, just what your generosity means to those who are on the receiving end of it.

‘An Afghan Tale’

The sun starts to rise but the cold air hangs all around me, cutting through the thin desert trousers I’ve been wearing for the past 4 days. Mud and dust hold in what little heat there still is to my lower body, my upper body keeping warm through my armour and equipment.

The frost forms on the helmets in front of me and I look at my watch for perhaps the 5th time in the past minute; we’ll be lifted out of here any time soon…but no sound.

I look through the scope of my rifle at the compound to my front. A figure has come out; it doesn’t look to be carrying anything, probably going to pray, maybe going to make sure people know we’re here.

It’s OK though, we’ll be out any minute, but still no noise. It always amazes me how quiet everything is. The only time it’s this quiet back in Britain is when I’ve climbed to the top of a deserted peak.

More people begin moving out of that compound. Are they moving out or just around it? No-one seems to be carrying anything. They’re looking over at us, moving towards us. Are they just looking, or do they intend to do something else?

They’ve stopped, three of them looking in our direction. Maybe they’re just curious. I mean who wouldn’t be! If a foreign army was in Britain, on my road, I would probably want to see what they were doing as well.

These three seem to be just wearing their ‘dish-dash’ and don’t look to have any weapons. Would they have put any in their fields?

More movement from the compound – just kids playing.

The word is passed around…“HELO in, in one minute”. I check my equipment, get to one knee…I’ll be glad to get this day-sack off. It seems to get heavier every time I lift it up.

Standing up and moving towards the aircraft now – trying to move quickly across the ground, but legs have gone cold and stiff.

‘That helicopter came in quickly, I didn’t see it land’, I say. Still can’t see it with all the dust it’s kicked up, so I just keep following the bloke in front. One big step, then onto the helicopter…shuffle forward…move as close in as possible.

A couple more seconds then the earth falls away and we rise up…leaning forward…moving fast and low…getting out of the desertlike fields and back to base for a hot shower and some food.

Another op. down; one more closer to getting home, and no-one killed. A quiet one for me, but then it’s good when the medic has a quiet one.

I put a fresh uniform on and grab a couple of the boxes that have arrived from the Fulwood and Longridge Churches. I put them into the TV room where some of the lads are watching the football. They show their appreciation by digging into the goodies and express their thanks.

I then go back to the tent to clean my rifle and tuck into the box I’ve saved for me and the lads I share this ‘home’ with. They’re all out at the back of the tent where the sun is now high and the temperature is climbing.

We sit in a circle telling tales of our adventures and cleaning our rifles and kit, all the while drinking fizzy pop and munching the sweets sent by people we don’t quite know, but will always be grateful to for being so generous.

This is what brings us back down to earth…these couple of hours talking, laughing, joking, and eating…thankful we have all got through the last couple of days safe and sound. Having these packages sent over to us fills us with happiness, and reminds us of a place we all hope we’ll come back to very soon.

Dan
(Corporal Dan Higgin-Botham, Royal Army Medical Corp.)

NB: Dan will be home again in early April, and whilst I pray that he will return to us safely, that hope is extended to all those away from their loved ones, serving in our armed forces in difficult and dangerous circumstances. May God bless them and keep them safe.

Helen <><

Dear Friends,

‘Out with the old – in with the new’………. I know this is usually something we say at the turn of the year, but there has been a lot of it going on at the Manse lately!

You know the sort of thing that happens – you start one job and problems arise, which leads to other things needing to be done, and before you know it – you’re camping out in the living room with the fridge, the kettle, and the microwave, picking your way through the rubble to get to bed, and wondering if you’ll ever get back to normality! Things, however, are now beginning to get into a more ordered state and apart from a spot of decorating, the job is done.

It does beg the question as to why we start these things in the first place. Often it is out of necessity and sometimes because we just fancy a change. Regarding the Manse, it was definitely the former and not the latter.

However, it won’t have slipped your notice that the way the church is set out has changed. This is not because I wanted to catch all of you out but because we often need to look afresh at familiar things in order to re-evaluate the reasoning behind them. It is also not a decision which was made solely by me – after consultation with some of the church council, we decided that if we lessened the distance between the minister and the back of the church, you could still sit on the back row and yet be nearer to the front!

It also gives us a fresh perspective and provides a better space for those leading worship at some of our Advent and Christmas services. I have to admit, though, that I’ve never understood the mentality of ‘filling the church from the back’. If we go to the theatre or a concert – we like to be at the front because we can see and hear so much better. Why then, is coming to a church service any different? Are we afraid that we might become too involved; we might be noticed too much; or we might be asked to do something!

Let’s all take an honest look at why we do the things we do and admit that sometimes a fresh perspective can be a good thing.

Yours in Christ,
Helen
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Dear Friends,

‘Love is in the air, everywhere you look around – or so the popular song goes. But is it? Today, as I write, many people will be celebrating St. Valentine’s Day. A day when, regardless of its origins, cards, flowers and chocolates become big business as we declare undying love to that ‘special someone’ in our lives. (Don’t worry; I did get a card and flowers from Colin!!)

But on the face of it, there doesn’t seem to be much love around. The Newspapers, TV and Radio, all report the violence on our streets; contentious issues seem to cause argument and ill-feeling; the Biblical teaching of ‘Love thy neighbour’ seems to get more and more difficult
each day.

However, do not despair – I came across this very heart warming story, which proves that love is not dead, but perhaps is something we need to work at.

‘My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they first met. The goal of their game was to write the word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving “shmily” around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.

There was no end to the place “shmily” would pop up. Little notes with “shmily” scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, under pillows. “Shmily” was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents’ house as the furniture.

But there was a dark cloud in their life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded
by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.

Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane, and my grandfathers’ steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house any more. For a while, Grandpa would go to church
alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.

“Shmily” was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of her funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother’s casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.

Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.

S – h – m – i – l – y : See How Much I Love You.’

As we move from Valentines, through the season of Lent, to the celebration of Easter – we are reminded once more that, whether or not we have been fortunate enough to experience the type of love in the story, there is a greater love.

The love that God showed to humanity, the love which saw His only Son die on a cross for our sin, the love which continues to forgive unconditionally, is ours – no strings attached!

When we look around our world, we may sometimes have to search around for the “shmily” notes; occasionally they are written boldly and un-missable; but never is the love of God hidden.

Maybe, when we gather round the empty cross on Easter Day, there should be written above it, in big bold letters…

See How Much I Love You

(Story adapted from ‘A Bucket of Surprises’ by J John & M Stibbe)

Yours in Christ
Helen
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