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 |  

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