Soap for Jesus

Standing in the cold, hands in my pockets with cars splashing past, I gaze up at the inky blue sky. No stars are out, for it's heavy with clouds. Kinda hard to believe that the shortest day has come and gone. Soon, though, the difference will start to show. Six long months of waiting, and light will come again. Light will always come again...until the Light of the World comes to outshine it forever. It's a night like any other. The X51 is late. It's always late recently, and my skin is a grey-purply-white shade when it arrives at the bus stop, 20 minutes after me. I'm in jeans and a jumper, like I would be any other dress down day before Christmas. "Days of Elijah" is on repeat and I'm having a hard time not singing aloud. Thoughts are busy romping in my head though. Cause this is the last night I shall ever travel home on the X51 from work. I glance up the street as I board the bus. Emotions are mixed as I prepare not only to change my travel, but

This Wednesday many of you will be eagerly looking forward to an exciting event because it is an event that only happens once a year. A story about a man that came, not of this earth, but from the heavens, to save mankind from peril. A man who died and was resurrected into a form not recognised by his followers. A man who came to heal the world from evil and give us all a unity and hope for the future. Yes. That’s right. We’ll see the airing of the New Doctor Who Special this Wednesday… But it’s also the day we celebrate the birth of the First Doctor. The one that came to heal the world. To fix the peril, not from an alien robot, or a weeping angel, but from mankind itself. From our disobedience that resulted in sin. He came into a world that was suffering, and still is suffering, to fulfil the prophecy of a saviour. He literally healed the sick, like a doctor in the conventional sense of the term, but he didn't use bandages or syringes. He didn't even use a sonic screwdriv

So...as predicted, I'm not doing too well. At all. Though the surface is doing nicely and will continue to do so. However, the cracks are there. I'm not posting this for any sympathy, so please don't give me any. I just wanted to let you know that my blog is going to continue, as I'm fighting to see God's Hand in all things still, and I will be posting a blog post from about two weeks ago at some point which is when I was still numb with shock. Currently, I feel like I'm in a little rowboat, seeing a gigantic wave from a tsunami bearing towards me. I'm rowing frantically trying to get away but all I can see is the wave and...yah. That's probably the best description. ;) This has seriously been the worst blow of my life. I did not trust or respect my father or brother, so that was never lost before, but this time, that has been destroyed too. Prayers are really appreciated. Life moves on; it's nearly Christmas, and Mom got married yesterday.

In Search of a Song was a book I owned in my early teens. It's the story of Jennie and Stephen, two young people who moved to a tiny town called Jaffrey. Both of them rebelled initially against the move, but they met, formed a friendship through this and started to learn contentment together in the Lord's plan. Other characters help them towards this too. Jennie, of course, falls for Stephen, though it's a tiny subplot and not at all the heart of the story. It's neatly and unobtrusively woven in. Stephen goes away to school and Jennie stays at home. Right towards the end of the book, Stephen's sister, Julia, tells Jennie of a girl called Laurie who Stephen's been getting close to and taking out at school. Stephen has a short soliliquay about how much Laurie and Jennie are alike, but the differences in Laurie which draw him to her romantically make Jennie only a special and dear sister to him. Laurie is brought home to meet Jennie and shares her room. The

Staring blankly at the screen, or out the window, coming back to myself with the realisation that the words are pounding through my head; "He's gone. He lied. Like all the others. And he's never coming back. He's gone. Forever." Biting down on my lip to escape the moan as the tears well up in my eyes again. I grab the mouse and click onto the next comment, head held proudly, not going to let the row of colleagues sitting facing me see my grief. Too late. The tears splash down my face, making sharp cracky sounds as they hit the paper I'm working from. Ash, my colleague next to me, laughs a bit uneasily. "You were crying yesterday. Isn't that enough now?" He's half teasing, I know. I answer with a half smile, "For a broken heart? Na. I'll be crying for many days yet." "Many days...?" He let his voice trail off. Yeah, not many people are getting this. "It's just normal boy/girl stuff," they say. "

Today is the day I learn what the last three years of fire have forged the girl into. Today is the day I discover exactly who I define myself to be. Today is the day I find out exactly where my relationship with God stands. Today is the day I take the first step in the second life I forged for myself. Today is the day I make choices and close doors. Today is the day I take the ring from my finger and see exactly what I do with myself. Today is the day I learn how to breathe without exploding into tears. Today is the day I have a new name and a new soul. Today is the day I learn to live with half a heart. I am Siân Garner-Jones. I am 21 years old. I was born in Walsall and I live in the UK. I am the daughter of a paedophile and exploited by many other guys. My heart has been broken twice. I am The Survivor. God comes first, now and always. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord. I live without regrets. And no one gets in my way.

Some of you readers may remember that last year in October, I posted a blog called, " Smashing the Laws of Pharisaical Parenthood ." Today is a follow-up to that. There is one example I can find in the Bible of parents and children in regards to marriage. Note: I am not going off the time period that the Bible was set in, where kids were married off by their parents - which is virtually what happens today. And what's going on NOW is a control idea found in the conservative Christian churches, demonstrated in the following article, written by Caleigh Royer. Relationships, A Series: Part One . If you start reading them, make sure you get to the end of the series before you come back with a response. :) As many young people as I have witnessed being torn apart by parents for as trivial as an issue as, "We conflict with the father and the marriage should involve both families," when they read this article, they're always, "THIS IS SO FAMILIAR. *tea

A leaf is a pretty small thing. It grows on a tree early in the year, sticky green with newness. It absorbs chlorophyll from the sunlight all year, providing shady dappled cover. In the autumn, some leaves have one blaze of glory before they turn brown, crinkle and drop to the ground. There they lie until they rot, grieved by some who, in the winter, miss their symbolism of summer sunshine and trampled carelessly by most who only curse their slipperiness. It leaves a mark on the tree, though - a leaf scar where it once quivered and danced. No other leaf can grow there. Leaves have the majority of their moments of glory when they're in unusual situations. When they're squished in a pile of heavy books to preserve their beauty...when they're bedecked with lacy ice in a sudden frost...when cast on the bonfire and suddenly the blaze of light is pouring out of the holes for seconds before it shimmmers into shreds and the light burns brighter...when dancing on the tangled threa

When you're patrolling the daily pattern... And no one seems to be bothered about your plans... Life moves on for everyone else... You feel forgotten and put on the shelf... Like everyone's left you behind and judged you into a box of useless... You think God's finished with you... When you start to let yourself believe that your life is done and you've served God's purpose... Has He finished with me now? God bless, ~Siân

So Mandisa is playin' and my fingers are a'clickin' and my mind is a'whirlin' and I canna' sit still more'n a minute. :P Well. Sort of. I decided to do NaNoWriMo this month...on top of the whirlwind rush which comes with five weekends left to your mother's wedding...six to Christmas. On top of moving house, packing one room and unpacking the other (I'm SO thankful I get to do this slowly so I can sort through my possessions! It's just so hard to throw away.) On top of work. On top of overtime. On top of shopping and mince pies and marzipan fruits and putting the decorations up. On top of starting to sort out social media (though I think I shall leave the main whack of that until after the New Year - when I'm jobhunting. :P ) On top of my mind thinking and thinking and planning my year ahead and actually...seeing a light at the end of the tunnel which doesn't seem to be the train heading straight for us. NaNo is probably not th

Hey everyone! I realise it's been a while since I've been doing the promised updates, and honestly, I am trying to write them down for you and salvage the memories, especially of the four day road trip with Matt and Kiehl, the people we saw (Kellyn Post, Theodora, Grace DeBusschere, Laura and Daniel's wedding, Emily Audirsch, Jay Lauser, Taylor Weller) and the final few days in Washington. It has been an _amazing_ blessed relief and growing time. God's Hand is clearly visible in both growing, learning and preparing me for what was to come. Which is the part I'm in now. I will try to update you, but to be honest, at the moment, God is deeply moving in the depths of my heart and the things that are dearest to me. I cannot...share some things without betraying others' secrets - including my own - or sharing dreams of delicate and wispy substance which may or may not be fantasy...and thus, as well as being deeply emotionally stirred and spiritually challenged

As we started the descent into Newark Airport, I was looking out of the window onto the clouds and saw outlined on the clouds several times, the shadow of the aeroplane surrounded by the circle of a rainbow. It was comforting, as scared as I was of Customs and security again, and as worried and confused as I am over the decision I have to make. God had provided for me to get exactly to where I was, and there was His promise on the clouds - and I was in the centre. Walking through the airport, I was next to a British chap and his lady friend who nearly tripped me up accidentally with his suitcase and we were making jokes about it down to Customs. Then we hit the queue... I kept watching the video while we moved slowly but steadily through the rows, thinking about last time and praying constantly. Finally, I got to the officer, Laslo. It was...amazing. The first thing he did was ask me if I'd worn my USA tshirt especially for the occasion, which I answered, yes I had as I'

Currently, I'm feeling slightly triumphant, because my earphones are working in the plane socket and I have Katherine Jenkins' beautiful voice singing Time to Say Goodbye down my ears and getting goosebumps as usual. (The Sound of Katherine Jenkins is a CD I have to get.) I must be getting old! I slept some last night, but I was sitting in the airport with yawns splitting my face, and as soon as I got in the plane and settled down, I fell asleep, only arousing at take-off and then for lunch at around 10:30 GMT - oh, and once for pretzels. I totally missed the headphones which is why I'm feeling all clever about using my own. :P So delighted to get a window seat on this flight. The cloud formations, the varying shades of blue and the icicles forming on the window which I can both watch and hear - these are a delight to my camera and me! :P Unfortunately, this is the only time out of the three flights that I will actually be getting either a meal or a window seat. :P Bu

So you read the prequel to my trip in "When the Skies Were Opened". If you didn't, go back and read it. ;) I'm sitting in the airport at the moment, with 55 minutes until the gate opens, and since I've used one hour ten minutes clearing FB, I figured I'd catch you up on this. Getting home from the wedding last night, I slept until midnight when the parents came to bed and woke me to start packing properly. By 4:15, I'd managed to pack my suitcase (shock one) and sort most of my paperwork (shock two). But I still had to wash my hair...if you know my hair you know what I mean...and wake Mom and George at 4:30. I opted for the hair first and bounced in the shower...to Mom pounding the door at 4:55 in terror as I was drying it with a towel. (See, I'd said we had to leave at 5. :P) Ready to go...and the butterflies started. Sorta. More like a horrible tight clenching in the pit of my stomach. The reasons why? On my previous flight to the USA in

When people ask me what I am, among the first words I use to describe myself is "author" or "writer". "Oooh! What do you write?" "Well, historical fiction mostly, started a bit of fantasy and my own autobiography." (That last usually gets a lot of laughter!) "Are you published?" "Well, sort of, yes." "Are you going to write a book about BMG? (My workplace)" I have to laugh at that one. "Maybe," because all experiences can be used. Then they go off into detailed descriptions of how I could use certain people and feature them and hide names, etc. So why am I writing this? Because I was thinking about it the other day. As life has gone on, and my friends and I have grown up, I am technically no longer recognised as an author in writing circles. I have little time in the current scheme of live to do more than scribble a few lines here and there, a few story ideas to be worked on when I hit that wond

Oh my gosh. I'm actually going. That was pretty much my reaction Wednesday night when Mom, oh so casually, directed George to also casually place an envelope containing the exact amount of money I needed to pay for my flight to America. Of course, it shouldn't have been any more than a little nice surprise, but it was. Because all the jigsaw pieces had to fall into the right place at exactly the right time. I think it started back at the beginning of this year/end of last year. Mom promised me that because of my helping out with some of the bills, she would gift me a trip to America when the money came through. I had two choices - the OYAN Winter Workshop, or Laura and Daniel's wedding. I chose the wedding. Which meant that when the date was set, the money would have to be through. I plotted out the trip, and asked Mom if I could take an extra trip - yes, all okay. Then the money didn't come through. Because the solicitors had to sort it out. Etc, etc. Poor Mom,

I'm angry. Stone cold angry. My temper is one of the worst things I own. You know the phrase see red? Well, I literally see it. Another well known one is don't mess with a red head. There's a reason for that. It's caused me to flare out in tempestuous ferocity in defense of those I love and end at least one friendship terribly; one lifelong regret and a source of no ending trouble for me since. Last night I got confirmation of something I had suspected for a long while from the freezing out I'd received from several people I genuinely liked. My respect for them is now below zero. What it was is not important. Why I will deal with, because as little as I expect them to read this, I want it out there in case they do. And my anger is cold. Which is half a good thing and half a bad...good because it means I'm not flapping angrily. Bad because it's a cold fury and will therefore be the cynical, sarcastic side of me. The main two complaints, as I und

Oh yeah. I hate this. This...thing. This trust thing. I tried to trust. I tried to make myself trust. Through a year, I endeavored to force myself to learn trust. I kept giving my love back to God. And it hurt. And I cried. And etc. There are times God teaches you something. And there are times when God prepares to teach you something. Last year, He was preparing me to learn to trust, but I wasn't ready. This year, I started pursuing surrender. I wanted to know what it really meant to surrender your love to God, because I was at my wits end. Sorta. I kept finding ways out. Spending days thinking through it, thinking I'd found another resting spot, another course forward. Then there came a time where I was at my wits end. Totally. Nearly a month ago, now, surprisingly. I was...numb. Dead. In tears a lot. Completely. Dried. Up. I was advised a course of action over a three month period, and I prayed - and took it. I'm not going into too much detail at this p