Thursday, August 14, 2014

Glasgow 2014, pure dead brilliant


When we first drove into Glasgow, our little Vaxhaul Agila stuffed with all of our belongings, I remember seeing a large poster hanging from a building just after the M8 took us over the Clyde River.  If I remember correctly, there was a young boy on a track, baton in hand, looking forward determinedly.  There was a Commonwealth Games logo and a caption saying something like, "In 2014, he will be ready.  Will you?"

In August 2008, that seemed a long way away (and yes, we've been in Glasgow for 6 years now -- where does the time go?).  That Glasgow was going to host the Commonwealth Games has always been somewhere in the background, even if it wasn't at the forefront of our minds.  Always there, but it felt too distant to get excited about.

A couple weeks ago, we walked up to the main road through torrential rain to watch the Queen's Baton Relay pass by.  Despite the terrible conditions, there were so many people out to see it pass by.  There was a stage set up by the leisure centre and Norfolk Island's Commonwealth Games team was there.  To be honest, I had never heard of the place before.  But everybody was cheering, trying out badminton and hurdles in 'come and try' stalls.  That all of this was being done with raincoats and umbrellas wasn't a major barrier to all these people determined to enjoy themselves.  It was at this point that it felt like we were on the cusp of something that was going to be very exciting.



The day the Commonwealth Games opened, we had glorious sunshine and it, for the most part, remained this way throughout the fortnight.  Glasgow took on a real festival atmosphere -- not only for the sport, but cultural events everywhere; music, street performers, pop-up shops, bits of the street closed off to become a children's play area... it was brilliant.  It was Glasgow at its best.  The city felt welcoming, vibrant, and confident.  I'll admit some initial cynicism just before the games, especially after the bizarre (and thankfully later reversed) decision to demolish the Red Road flats  as part of the opening ceremony.  It didn't take very long for me to feel taken along by the wave of optimism that accompanied the arrival of the Games; Scottish rugby great John Beattie said on Radio Scotland that he believed the Commonwealth Games were the most exciting thing to come to Glasgow in his memory -- not just for the sport, but for the chance to celebrate and meet people from so many places around the world, as well as offering then a proper welcome to our city. David Grevemberg praised Glasgow for embracing the Commonwealth Games with "joyous enthusiasm".  This feels like an apt description to me.

"People Make Glasgow"

The press have been overwhelmingly positive about the games, suggesting that  Glasgow rescued the Games from irrelevance after a lacklustre showing in Delhi four years ago.  96% of all the tickets to sporting events were sold, which is an example of how well the games were supported.  Even though I'm a relative newcomer here, I felt incredibly proud of the city I now call home.  I also think that the 'games legacy' may be more than a pipe dream.  Regeneration agencies in the east end were positive about the Games' potential to act as a catalyst to development in some of our poorest neighbourhoods.


Soon we were brought back to reality after the games closed and the buzz faded.  The city council were forced to remove the beloved 'Clyde' mascot statues after one was stolen and some others vandalised.  Usual stories about crime in Glasgow were once again headlining the local papers.

As Snow Patrol sang once, when it's all over, we still have to clear up.  That Glasgow cannot revel in festival-mode indefinitely does not render the Commonwealth Games irrelevant in my mind.  Here I think of retreats or Christian conferences -- while good things, they are not the whole of life.  These can be important places to encounter good teaching, experience restoration, or simply re-focus on things that are meaningful.  The experiences at these events are well and good, but it must be taken onward, translated and applied to everyday life or it becomes little more than escapism.

Only time will tell if the Commonwealth Games were successful in promoting lasting change.  But I remain hopeful.  I do believe that the image of the city has changed in the wake of the games, from a source of jokes or dire statistics about life expectancy, to something more positive and confident.

In our work with refugees, what did the Games mean for us?  Even for the destitute refugees we work with, many of them were able to take part in some of the free events on in the city.  One Yemeni friend told me "Glasgow is extra beautiful and happy right now and I feel like I am included." "Included" is not how I've heard refugees and asylum seekers explain their experience of Glasgow, so this was refreshing to hear.
At St Rollox, we were able to ride the wave of excitement; we hosted a 'family fun day' and opened up for lunch in the first week of the games.  We set up a big map with pins on it to show where all the free things were happening, especially the things that were put on for families.  'More Than Gold' provided us with a number of sport related resources.  We shared about Jesus over bowls of soup and coffee.  HUNDREDS of New Testaments were taken voluntarily (not just given away).
In the city, it was good to see the Street Pastors so visibly ministering among the crowds.  Our friends at Glasgow City Mission hosted anumber events sharing God's love with homeless but also drawing attention to the problem of homelessness in Glasgow and advocating just solutions.

The Wilson family have great memories of when Glasgow hosted the Commonwealth Games.  It was a once in a lifetime experience as it's unlikely that I'll have the pleasure to live in a city that hosts something on that scale ever again.  A guy from our church in Glasgow worked on this video (part of it was actually shown at the closing ceremony!) and I felt it really captures the feel of Glasgow during the games.  I've also put up some more pictures below.




"Come and Try" outside the Bishopbriggs Leisuredrome.  Eilidh Child watch your back.

Me, Clyde, Niamh, and our friend Wendy who was up from London to visit and enjoy some of the Commonwealth craic.

Cheering on the marathon runners; pretty sure that's the Scottish runner Susan Partridge.

First day of the games and an obligatory photo in front of the big G.


The cycling time trial as it passed through Bishopbriggs.  So many people out at the round-a-bout cheering on the cyclists, great atmosphere.

Cheering on Team Scotland!
Posted by Paul and Emma at 12:22 am | 0 comments  
Wednesday, June 11, 2014

International Haggises



I bumped into one of Emma's Algerian friends while I was collecting food for the destitution programme last week.  I was invited the launch of a newly published cookbook -- about types of haggis from around the world.  The humble haggis, viewed as quintessentially Scottish and oft (unfairly in my mind) mocked, is actually shared by many cultures around the world.  Dynamic cultural equivalents are to be found in the most unexpected of places.

The book comes out of an event that happened last year: http://goo.gl/wmSJpo

The book launch should be a celebration for these women who worked hard on the project, but it comes rather with a sense of sadness.  One of the ladies who was very influential in the women's group that collected the recipes died last year.  She was also a well loved volunteer at St Rollox -- some of you might remember me writing about it.  The family, and particularly her husband, have found this to be a very difficult time and the anniversary of her death is bound to add to their experience of loss and sadness.  Please keep this family in your prayers.

Paul
Posted by Paul and Emma at 5:04 pm | 0 comments  
Sunday, June 01, 2014

Shanenanigans



It has been ages since I've updated this -- not the first time I've said this, and it won't be the last I'm sure.   A lot has happened since I last wrote about swimming in Loch Lomond, probably too much for one post.  Most people who keep up with us on this are linked in via Facebook and see our updates there.  In some ways, it's an easier medium when you're knackered as you can pop a few lines about how things are going.

Shane's surgery and the rest of us

The biggest thing for the Wilsons this past year was Shane's cleft repair.  The surgeon was pleased with how the surgery went, though it will take a while for us to know if it was successful.  Indicators being how his speech develops, etc.  But the signs seem positive thus far. His little voice already sounds different -- he has even managed to say "ba" and click his tongue, something he couldn't do before the surgery (the speech therapist was impressed).  Shane is now able to make suction with his mouth, which gave him quite a shock when he first went back to the bottle.  Shane refused food for a couple days, but now seems to have his appetite back.  His first tooth also appeared a few days after surgery -- all he wants to do is chew on stuff, but we had to remove all the toys that he could get into his mouth because they could damage the stitches and hamper the healing process.  You can imagine how well this has gone down with the boy!
It was great to have Jen and Dave Spence to help us while Shane was going through with the op.  It made things much easier to deal with and their help was invaluable.  Niamh thinks her granny and granda should move in permanently, such was the fun she had.

Since being out of hospital, there have been good days and bad days.  Sometimes, you would never know this was a baby who just came through fairly major surgery.  Other days, he just seems to moan in pain and frustration constantly.  Constantly.  There's hardly anything that can calm him when he's "in a state." It's difficult to cope with sometimes.  No.  Not sometimes.  It's just difficult to cope with. 
It takes me back to when he was a tiny thing and colicky, or worse, when his reflux got so bad that he would only sleep while being held upright in our arms and Emma and I would take shifts standing up all night to get him to sleep.  Of course, none of what he's doing now is actually as bad as before (even on bad days, he manages to sleep most of the night), but the stress and anxiety hasn't fully left my system and can surge in an overwhelming way at times.  And it seems after a few good days, he gets a cold or some other sort of infection and is miserable.  Again, this is just normal life with small children, the lovely little germ incubators that they are.  But due to all the past stress, it can be difficult to remain rational -- all the "what if..." questions cropping up.  Like, "What if he doesn't just have a sore cough, but there is something wrong with his stitches?"  "What if he needs a second operation because his mouth hasn't healed correctly?" And so on.

Niamh tearing it up on her new (to her, anyway) bike on a rare sunny day.

Niamh has done very well, but she's a sensitive little girl and picks up on our stress as well.  She went through a phase of  waking up every other night and needing extra comfort to go back to sleep.  It can range from a genuine nightmare to the ridiculous like, "AHHHHHH! My sock is almost off my foot!"  But for the most part, she has been brilliant.  Niamh is easily her brother's favourite person and she can always cheer him (if only briefly) with a game of, "Oh no, it's the baby!"  She basically shouts and him then hides behind the sofa, then runs away when Shane crawls over to her.  It's cute and VERY noisy. Here's a video of it in action, before the game gets interrupted with banana cake:



Shane just celebrated his first birthday (but wasn't allowed any cake, boohoo) and, as of this morning, stood up by himself for the first time. 

On a 1st birthday walk at Aberlady.
Leaving house, selling house, moving house, living, and (not) living in the community

Moving house has been another difficult thing.  We're feeling genuinely happy and at comfortable looking after a vacant Church of Scotland manse in Bishopbriggs.  But needing to sell the flat in Springburn has left me with a sense of disappointment.  Probably misplaced, but there it is anyway.

The main reason for moving from Springburn is that our family has outgrown the place.  We thought we could keep Niamh and Shane in the same room for a couple years, but with the health issues that kept him from sleeping early on, we quickly learned that this wouldn't work.  Another difficultly is that the flat was too small to host our refugee friends and give our kids the space they need when we offer hospitality.  Many of the cultures we work with are a bit more hands-on than what the kids are used to and they get tired and a bit irritable -- more so than if we take them out to our refugee friends' houses for some reason.

Space -- or the lack thereof -- was not the only concern.  We started to have some major issues with a difficult neighbour.  The late night karaoke parties and flooding from upstairs (twice!) took their toll.  Even going out on a trip would cause some anxiety -- lingering in my mind the whole holiday or day-trip would be, "I hope that we have a kitchen with working electrical sockets and a ceiling when we get home."  The times our flat was flooded, we were very lucky to be in.  Otherwise, the damage would've been much much worse.

Our building also constantly smelled of dodgy cannabis.  Anything I left outside the door would reek of skunk, my biggest concern being the children's stuff.

The communal back garden couldn't be used by the kids because the usual suspects in our building used it as a doggy toilet.  A road borders the back garden, so it became a bin of sorts -- new bottles of Buckfast appearing nightly, styrofoam chip boxes, lots and lots of crisp packets, and other things I didn't really want to investigate any further.  So not an ideal place for children to play. The housing association was pretty toothless in trying to make any progress on this.

I don't write all of this to make our situation in Springburn seem really bad.  It wasn't.  There were, and still are, many things I love about the place.  And barring only a couple difficult people, many of our neighbours were brilliant and showed us great acceptance, friendship, and hospitality.  And they don't have the opportunity to live in a nice manse in suburbs and have to live with the same disturbances we have been lucky enough to leave behind for a while.

So this raises a lot of circular questions and doubts in my mind:  the first being is that I'm a failure when it comes to trying to live incarnationally in a community like Springburn.  When the going got tough, did I just bail?  Is this evidence of a lack of faith in my calling?  Now I know that is just me being hard on myself and unrealistic, something I am prone to. 
Trying to be a responsible parent, I do have to think of kids and their safety.  Thinking rationally: not being able to get a good night of sleep and inhaling second-hand cannabis smoke when entering the building isn't an ideal situation.  I'm not sure how many of these issues would even  bother me if the kids weren't around.  Many of the same pressures were there before the kids, but we just got on with it. The presence of children amplifies our reactions to things.  As a good friend of mine told me, "Having kids changes the game.  The rules are suddenly different and you're left trying to adapt everything."  Even for us, there are aspects of living in a nicer area that are a relief.   I haven't had anything thrown at me or been accosted by addicts looking for cash in Bishopbriggs.  Emma feels safer to go out when it's getting darker, she's able to get back into running.  It's a nice break not having to feel so vigilant all the time.

If you're so inclined, I recommend this article by DLMayfield.  I found resonance with much of what she writes and think she describes the complicated dynamics of a similar situation in a way that I can't.

The opportunity to be caretakers of the manse was presented to us and in living here, we are helping one of our partner churches by looking after the place, and we trying to humble ourselves enough to be recipients of hospitality, instead of just offerers.  The reality check is that the manse is not a permanent situation.  Realistically, an area like Springburn is all we can afford if we're to keep on with what we're doing.  Part of the stress comes from the 'constancy' of ministry in a more deprived community.  Here in the 'burbs, I've been taken back by how quiet the street is, how we haven't even met our neighbours; there's something that makes me sad about this, but I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't sort of nice to just close the door and know that I'll be left alone after spending a long day with homeless refugees in desperate situations.  Sometimes it's not easy to just come home and switch off because, at the core, what we do is all about people, relationships.  Relationships are not bound by business hours and 'weekends off'.  I do think we have got better at finding space as a family, but a crisis can happen any time.  Our work with refugees shouldn't be limited to working hours and we are happy to respond when difficulties arise.  But this means the constant rebalancing of availability and boundaries.  Even when done prayerfully, there are no easy answers.  We do plan to stay in an area like Springburn if we can, but we will need to find a home that's more suitable for our family.  Somewhere that strikes a balance between being available and part of the community, but also offering us something of a sanctuary.  In real terms, I think this means: our own front door, nobody above to flood us, and a wee closed in garden.  We've seen some places that do fit the bill, but...

...we need the old flat to sell.  We've already taken a hit on the selling price and can't really consider knocking any more off.  The estate agents seem confident, but patience is a difficult thing.  Part of me just wants to move to one place and know that we'll stay there for a while, rather than the constant flux.  On the positive side, the more you need to move, the more difficult it becomes to accumulate STUFF.

 Honesty and that

So that is what is currently happening personally.  If people are to pray for us, then I felt it was important to be honest about some of the stuff going through my head.  Soon some more stories and reflections about what's happening with refugees in Glasgow, which will be more interesting (and succinct!).

I'll sign off with this, which I'm not entirely sure how relevant it is to everything above, but has been in my thoughts and meditations since happening across this passage on a flight to South America two years ago: 'By this we may be sure that we are in him:  whoever says, "I abide in him," ought to walk just as he walked.' (1 Jn 2:5b-6).  So much of the nuts and bolts of mission work boils down to this, as wonderfully simple and unbelievably difficult as it is.  If all our attempts to do mission, share the good news, transform our communities, are not underpinned by a genuine nurturing toward christlikeness and the fruit this should bear, something has gone awry.   It's a reminder I need anyway.

Paul

Posted by Paul and Emma at 6:17 pm | 2 comments  
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