Cathy Le Feuvre

Founders' Day - the beginnings of The Salvation Army

If you've never had July 2 noted in your calendar as an important date, then you're probably not involved in or associated with The Salvation Army, the global church and charity organisation.

You won't know, therefore, that July 2 is 'Founders' Day' ... the day in 1865 which is marked as the start of the Christian movement that (eventually) became The Salvation Army.

More than a decade ago I was privileged to have published my first book ... 'William and Catherine - the love story of the founders of The Salvation Army told through their letters' (Monarch Books 2013).

As the title indicates, it's the story of William and Catherine Booth, who between them started the Christian movement which today is in 134 countries across the world offering not just spiritual support through a network of churches (or 'corps' as they are known) but also hope and help for people who find themselves disadvantaged - those who are homeless, victims of modern slavery, those struggling with addiction, families needing support through foodbanks and the need for housing, support and fun for children and young people. And SO much more!

In my book I trace William and Catherine's love story, family life, and spiritual journey ... a journey which began way before the couple came to London, where The Salvation Army was founded, way before William was ordained into the Methodist Church, and Catherine herself took up a preaching ministry mostly to other women.

My book is a mixture of story-telling. There are excerpts from William and Catherine's personal letters, which are today held in the British Library in London, who kindly granted me permission to reproduce parts of some of the letters. There's a whole lot of 'history' which followed many many months of research on my part, the narrative which brings the story together. And then there are short 'stories' of my own making, based on information in Salvation Army history, and the Booths' letters.

These little 'glimpses' into life in Victorian England and into the lives of the Booths and the early Salvation Army may be described as 'immersive history' telling, and they were such fun to write as I tried to get under the skin of the times and the people with whom the Booths came into contact. I hope they really bring the couple and their times to life!

Chapter 13 of the book includes one of those little tales from that summer of 1865, when we know the Booths were settling into life in London, after years of living in lots of different places in England. We know also that it was midsummer of 1865 that William Booth preached outside the Blind Beggar pub in the poor East End of London. Not long after that, he was invited to preach as part of a wider Christian campaign and on July 2 1865 he preached in a tent on the Mile End Waste in the East End... not far from that pub.

THAT tent meeting is the occasion that Salvationists - members of The Salvation Army across the world - mark as the start of the Christian church and movement to which they belong. Which is why we are marking THAT day today! 

Please feel free to read about that day at the Blind Beggar pub ... from that chapter in my book.... and if this whets your appetite for more and you fancy reading the whole thing and even buying the book then you may click here.

Thanks so much!

Outside on the street a tall man with a thick dark beard mounted an old box.

Oh, not this again!

Couldn’t a man enjoy a couple of ales without having that noise outside? If the pub wasn’t so handy for home, he’d find somewhere else to sup. But the Blind Beggar was perfect, especially when he’d had a few too many – all he needed to do was stagger round the corner to the old woman who’d be there, as always, waiting to put him to bed.

The drinker rubbed the dirty window pane to peer out.
“George!” he shouted to the aleman behind the bar. “Can’t you get rid of ’em?”
“It’s a free world, Joe. So long as they don’t step over the doorstep we can’t do nuffink about ’em!”
“Shut the door!” someone yelled.
“Don’t you dare! It’s bloody boilin’ in here!” shouted barman George.

He was right, of course. Even this late in the day, it was still warm. Well it was midsummer, after all, and the inn reeked of sweat, stale beer, and the stench of the open sewer in the road outside.

Joe looked out of the window again. He’d lost count of the times his drinking had been interrupted by these religious fanatics. There seemed to be an endless stream of them, all spouting about God and how he needed “saving”.

Saving from what, that’s what he wanted to know. Who could save him from the misery of gruelling hard work and grinding poverty?

Maybe another pint might help. He searched his torn pocket. Just a penny left. Enough for one more, but then he’d go home empty-handed again and he’d get it in the neck from the old woman. He’d done that many a time before, even though it meant the kids went to bed with empty bellies. But a man had to have his fun, didn’t he? What with spending all day at the docks, hauling all those sacks of whatever it was they were loading the ships with. Maybe he’d just spend the ha’penny.

“Another half, George!” Joe approached the bar, where the crowd had thinned out a bit. A few of his mates had ambled outside and seemed to be listening to the tall man. A few were heckling from the door, but a couple had moved forward.

Just to get a bit of air, Joe took his half across the threshold into the street and stood there under the Blind Beggar sign.
“Not seen this one afore, Will!” he said to the man next to him.
“No – new, I think! Looks a bit fresh, doesn’t he?”

Not just fresh, but not posh either, Joe noted. He wasn’t dressed particularly sharply; his frock coat looked a little worse for wear. In fact, he appeared more frayed around the edges that the other missioners who usually turned up outside the pub. This one’s thick black hair was all over the place as he waved his arms around. He was sweating profusely and occasionally mopped his brow with a grey-looking kerchief. And what was that accent? He wasn’t from London, that was for sure.

Joe was intrigued. He found himself listening to this one as he hadn’t listened before. He was, of course, a religious nut, but he seemed to be a bit more normal than the rest.

“What’s ’is name, Will?”
“That’s right!” came the reply, followed by a hearty laugh.
“Don’t muck me about, mate! What’s ’is bloody name?”
“You said it! ’is name is Will! William Booth!”

                                                                   .....

In the summer of 1865 outside the Blind Beggar pub, William Booth was doing what came naturally, preaching to the unconverted in their own environment. Under a pub sign, risking ridicule and even some physical danger – it wasn’t unusual for street preachers to have things thrown at them by a heckling crowd – William was part of an evangelistic tradition that was growing rapidly in mid-nineteenth-century London. There were numerous chapels and small missions, many of them Methodist, across this part of town. By the 1850s there were around 144 charities at work in London, many of which were already mixing religion with practical works and good deeds.

William’s street preaching impressed a group of churchmen and evangelists known as the East London Special Services Committee. Among them were Mr R.C. Morgan and Mr Samuel Chase, the editors of The Revival, who, despite their misgivings over the preaching antics of the Revd Booth’s wife, were still determined to have William join them for their next evangelistic campaign.

The Special Committee didn’t come from or belong to one single denomination, and William Booth had already preached for them at the Garrick Theatre some years before. Now they wanted him for more radical work, and on 2 July 1865 – the date that is now noted in history as the “start” of The Salvation Army – William Booth stood to preach for them in a tent on the Mile End Waste, on the old Quaker Burial Ground in Whitechapel, East London.

Although the old tent blew down that autumn, there was no stopping the Booth mission. 

The East London Christian Revival Society was born and in the winter of 1865 it moved indoors. On Sundays the meetings were held in a local building – the Assembly Rooms on New Road, Whitechapel, otherwise known as Professor Orson’s Dancing Academy, its main function in the week. Even on the Sabbath the evangelists had to share their meeting hall with a photographer, and on weekdays the Booths and their expanding group of supporters rented other venues: an old chapel, a warehouse, a stable, a carpenter’s shop, a skittle alley.....

What happened next? 

By 1870 the 'Christian Revival Association' had been renamed 'The East London Christian Mission' and then simply 'The Christian Mission'. It was early in 1878 that publicity was issued with both the name 'Christian Mission' and 'Salvation Army' attached, but by May of that year the name 'Christian Mission' had been finally dropped and William and Catherine's Christian movement became ... 'The Salvation Army'.

The rest, as they say, is history!

Founders' Day - the beginnings of The Salvation Army

If you've never had July 2 noted in your calendar as an important date, then you're probably not involved in or associated with The Salvation Army, the global church and charity organisation.

You won't know, therefore, that July 2 is 'Founders' Day' ... the day in 1865 which is marked as the start of the Christian movement that (eventually) became The Salvation Army.

More than a decade ago I was privileged to have published my first book ... 'William and Catherine - the love story of the founders of The Salvation Army told through their letters' (Monarch Books 2013).

As the title indicates, it's the story of William and Catherine Booth, who between them started the Christian movement which today is in 134 countries across the world offering not just spiritual support through a network of churches (or 'corps' as they are known) but also hope and help for people who find themselves disadvantaged - those who are homeless, victims of modern slavery, those struggling with addiction, families needing support through foodbanks and the need for housing, support and fun for children and young people. And SO much more!

In my book I trace William and Catherine's love story, family life, and spiritual journey ... a journey which began way before the couple came to London, where The Salvation Army was founded, way before William was ordained into the Methodist Church, and Catherine herself took up a preaching ministry mostly to other women.

My book is a mixture of story-telling. There are excerpts from William and Catherine's personal letters, which are today held in the British Library in London, who kindly granted me permission to reproduce parts of some of the letters. There's a whole lot of 'history' which followed many many months of research on my part, the narrative which brings the story together. And then there are short 'stories' of my own making, based on information in Salvation Army history, and the Booths' letters.

These little 'glimpses' into life in Victorian England and into the lives of the Booths and the early Salvation Army may be described as 'immersive history' telling, and they were such fun to write as I tried to get under the skin of the times and the people with whom the Booths came into contact. I hope they really bring the couple and their times to life!

Chapter 13 of the book includes one of those little tales from that summer of 1865, when we know the Booths were settling into life in London, after years of living in lots of different places in England. We know also that it was midsummer of 1865 that William Booth preached outside the Blind Beggar pub in the poor East End of London. Not long after that, he was invited to preach as part of a wider Christian campaign and on July 2 1865 he preached in a tent on the Mile End Waste in the East End... not far from that pub.

THAT tent meeting is the occasion that Salvationists - members of The Salvation Army across the world - mark as the start of the Christian church and movement to which they belong. Which is why we are marking THAT day today! 

Please feel free to read about that day at the Blind Beggar pub ... from that chapter in my book.... and if this whets your appetite for more and you fancy reading the whole thing and even buying the book then you may click here.

Thanks so much!

Outside on the street a tall man with a thick dark beard mounted an old box.

Oh, not this again!

Couldn’t a man enjoy a couple of ales without having that noise outside? If the pub wasn’t so handy for home, he’d find somewhere else to sup. But the Blind Beggar was perfect, especially when he’d had a few too many – all he needed to do was stagger round the corner to the old woman who’d be there, as always, waiting to put him to bed.

The drinker rubbed the dirty window pane to peer out.
“George!” he shouted to the aleman behind the bar. “Can’t you get rid of ’em?”
“It’s a free world, Joe. So long as they don’t step over the doorstep we can’t do nuffink about ’em!”
“Shut the door!” someone yelled.
“Don’t you dare! It’s bloody boilin’ in here!” shouted barman George.

He was right, of course. Even this late in the day, it was still warm. Well it was midsummer, after all, and the inn reeked of sweat, stale beer, and the stench of the open sewer in the road outside.

Joe looked out of the window again. He’d lost count of the times his drinking had been interrupted by these religious fanatics. There seemed to be an endless stream of them, all spouting about God and how he needed “saving”.

Saving from what, that’s what he wanted to know. Who could save him from the misery of gruelling hard work and grinding poverty?

Maybe another pint might help. He searched his torn pocket. Just a penny left. Enough for one more, but then he’d go home empty-handed again and he’d get it in the neck from the old woman. He’d done that many a time before, even though it meant the kids went to bed with empty bellies. But a man had to have his fun, didn’t he? What with spending all day at the docks, hauling all those sacks of whatever it was they were loading the ships with. Maybe he’d just spend the ha’penny.

“Another half, George!” Joe approached the bar, where the crowd had thinned out a bit. A few of his mates had ambled outside and seemed to be listening to the tall man. A few were heckling from the door, but a couple had moved forward.

Just to get a bit of air, Joe took his half across the threshold into the street and stood there under the Blind Beggar sign.
“Not seen this one afore, Will!” he said to the man next to him.
“No – new, I think! Looks a bit fresh, doesn’t he?”

Not just fresh, but not posh either, Joe noted. He wasn’t dressed particularly sharply; his frock coat looked a little worse for wear. In fact, he appeared more frayed around the edges that the other missioners who usually turned up outside the pub. This one’s thick black hair was all over the place as he waved his arms around. He was sweating profusely and occasionally mopped his brow with a grey-looking kerchief. And what was that accent? He wasn’t from London, that was for sure.

Joe was intrigued. He found himself listening to this one as he hadn’t listened before. He was, of course, a religious nut, but he seemed to be a bit more normal than the rest.

“What’s ’is name, Will?”
“That’s right!” came the reply, followed by a hearty laugh.
“Don’t muck me about, mate! What’s ’is bloody name?”
“You said it! ’is name is Will! William Booth!”

                                                                   .....

In the summer of 1865 outside the Blind Beggar pub, William Booth was doing what came naturally, preaching to the unconverted in their own environment. Under a pub sign, risking ridicule and even some physical danger – it wasn’t unusual for street preachers to have things thrown at them by a heckling crowd – William was part of an evangelistic tradition that was growing rapidly in mid-nineteenth-century London. There were numerous chapels and small missions, many of them Methodist, across this part of town. By the 1850s there were around 144 charities at work in London, many of which were already mixing religion with practical works and good deeds.

William’s street preaching impressed a group of churchmen and evangelists known as the East London Special Services Committee. Among them were Mr R.C. Morgan and Mr Samuel Chase, the editors of The Revival, who, despite their misgivings over the preaching antics of the Revd Booth’s wife, were still determined to have William join them for their next evangelistic campaign.

The Special Committee didn’t come from or belong to one single denomination, and William Booth had already preached for them at the Garrick Theatre some years before. Now they wanted him for more radical work, and on 2 July 1865 – the date that is now noted in history as the “start” of The Salvation Army – William Booth stood to preach for them in a tent on the Mile End Waste, on the old Quaker Burial Ground in Whitechapel, East London.

Although the old tent blew down that autumn, there was no stopping the Booth mission. 

The East London Christian Revival Society was born and in the winter of 1865 it moved indoors. On Sundays the meetings were held in a local building – the Assembly Rooms on New Road, Whitechapel, otherwise known as Professor Orson’s Dancing Academy, its main function in the week. Even on the Sabbath the evangelists had to share their meeting hall with a photographer, and on weekdays the Booths and their expanding group of supporters rented other venues: an old chapel, a warehouse, a stable, a carpenter’s shop, a skittle alley.....

What happened next? 

By 1870 the 'Christian Revival Association' had been renamed 'The East London Christian Mission' and then simply 'The Christian Mission'. It was early in 1878 that publicity was issued with both the name 'Christian Mission' and 'Salvation Army' attached, but by May of that year the name 'Christian Mission' had been finally dropped and William and Catherine's Christian movement became ... 'The Salvation Army'.

The rest, as they say, is history!

I Shall Pass This Way But Once...

I've been doing a lot of clearing recently and as I continue to rifle through lots of stuff, clearing & storing and 'letting go' of many things … I found this little picture!

 

I remember it at home over the years propped up here and there … the mantelpiece, various shelves. 

 

On the back of the card are these words:

 

To Major and Mrs LeFerve (sic) With All Good Wishes from Marjorie Holleyoak

I''ve no idea who Marjorie was but it was a long time ago that my parents received this lovely card, probably from a church / Salvation Army corps member or friend - my parents were Salvation Army ministers.

 

A long time ago given as a gift, but the sentiments are the same today as they have always been!

 

‘I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.’

 

This quote is credited to Stephen Grellet …a prominent French-American Quaker missionary, 1772-1855.

 

I'm wondering now if the sentiments in this message seeped into my psyche down the years ... you may (or may not) know that in recent years I've written a book about kindness ... 'The Gift of Kindness', published by Authentic Media and written with my friend and writing buddy, Debbie Duncan.

 

If this be loving ... then I love!

On this Valentine's Day I share with you something very special.

A few years back I wrote a book based on the lives and letters of the couple who founded The Salvation Army, the global church and charity movement.

William Booth met Catherine Mumford in 1851 and they married four years later, in July 1855. Their relationship was developed through letter writing, and that correspondence continued throughout their marriage.

Those letters are held in the British Library in London, and it was sheer pleasure to spend hours pouring over those epistles, deciphering the handwriting. Through the correspondence I got to know these individuals on quite a personal level and I discovered that, although they were obviously very religious and spiritual, they were also complex characters, flawed individuals, and ... I found to my surprise ... very much in love.

That personal even romantic love kept Catherine and William close, and that and their love for God and humanity and their mutual passion for sharing the Christian gospel,  helped them to stay strong often during very difficult times.

I love that in 1872, 17 years into their marriage, William - who was also quite an accomplished poet - was inspired to write this to his wife, the mother of his eight children, and his partner in life, faith and Christian mission.

These were William's words, penned to his beloved Catherine in 1872 ... by the time he wrote this loving poem, they had been married for 17 years, having got married on 16 June 1855!

If ’tis love to wish thee near,

To shed for thee the silent tear,

To start at every step and fear,

Yet hope, that it will bring thee near –

If this be loving, then I love.

If ’tis love to wish that I,

Knit by some strange mysterious tie,

Might with thee live or with thee die,

Then dwell with thee eternally –

If this be loving, then I love.

 

Your own, your husband,

William.

By the way, if you fancy reading my book based on the Booth Letters, I will be honoured.

It's called 'William and Catherine - the love story of the founders of The Salvation Army told through their letters' (Lion Hudson 2013)

You can also find it and some of my other books on Amazon and other sites.

You can also check out my Author Central page on Amazon 

If you go to the top of this page and click on 'Cathy Home Page' you will also find my main website and occasional blog. And there's more info on 'Cathy's books'.

Thanks and Happy Valentine's Day!

(This post was first shared on February 14, St Valentine's Day, 2021 ... as part of my 'One Day at a Time' blog which featured a thought for every day that year. I've added a few words here but if you want to check that blog out it's on the front page of my website ... click here for 'One Day at a Time')

Christmas Without Christ

Christmas!

 

It's a lovely time, isn't it? Some would say the 'Most Wonderful Time of the Year'.

 

How much fun to be had, family to be surrounded by, presents to be unwrapped, food to be consumed, songs to be sung very loudly, alcohol to be consumed in vast quantities.

 

It's part of our culture, at least for many in the 'modern', 'western' and developed and entitled world where Christmas is often seen just as a time for partying, excess and overindulgence. Yes, a time for getting together with family, which is important, but also for giving in to the commercial pressures of ... oh ... so ... many needs and wants.

 

I'm not going to talk here about the over commercialisation of the season ... numerous people cleverer than I have spent many words doing that before me.

 

But I am going to address the 'elephant in the room' ... something which isn't new but which has become uppermost in my mind in the past weeks.

 

Let me explain.

 

A friend of mine who does PR and communications, especially on behalf of Christian organizations and charities, posted something in the run up to this festive season which really challenged me ….

 

He wrote …

 

‘Spoken to a journalist in the last hour: I asked who their main Christian guest was this year. The journalist said no-one - we are doing Christmas differently this year!

I'm sure Christmas starts with Christ...’

 

“We are doing Christmas differently this year’!!

 

Ah ….. No ….!

 

As my friend points out … it’s in the name!

 

‘Christ mas’ …

 

Of course, it saddens me that there are journalists out there who, when thinking of their Christmas coverage, decide to ignore the reason we celebrate in the first place! It's not surprising, I guess, given the culture we live in ... but it shows just how far removed that culture has become from the 'real' Christmas. And how much the commercialisation and myths of the 'happy Christmas time' have increasingly shaped our perception of this mid winter festival.

 

This also reminds me that, without being too heavy handed, us Christian folk … the people who follow and believe in the Christ whose birth we celebrate at Christmastime … need to gently remind people that it’s more than drinking, eating, tinsel and pressies, or even all the wonderful charitable kindnesses that happen especially at this time!

 

All this put me in mind of a poem I wrote some years ago … it has featured in a couple of BBC local carol services when I needed a poem - if I can’t find the words I need, I’ll write them myself.

 

But here …as we move through this Christmas season  … I share it with you my friends… and pray that in all the partying and stuff we choose to surround ourselves, we may all take some time to remember the Reason for the Season!

 

Christmas Blessings on you all!

 

The Gift of Kindness - on World Kindness Day

Today is World Kindness Day, so it's an opportunity for me to share some extracts from the book I wrote, with my friend and sometimes writing buddy - Debbie Duncan - on the subject ... of Kindness!

We were writing 'The Gift of Kindness' in 2021,  when the world was still impacted by the Covid-19 pandemic but there were some hopes that soon we would be out of lockdowns and strict restrictions.

We looked back at what seemed to be an explosion of kindness during those pandemic days. The kind things that people were doing for neighbours under house detention, kindnesses even shown on social media.

Writing 'The Gift of Kindness' was an opportunity to tell some stories of kindnesses from the pandemic, and other times, as well as to unpack what kindness is - from many different angles including science, anthropology, literature, popular culture and faith, including the Christian faith which is the perspective from which this book was conceived.

Some of the sentiments expressed and stories of kindnesses extended were personal ... it was real joy to gather information from friends and further afield, and to bring it all together in a book which helps us all to really explore what kindness is, and our own attitudes and actions - kind or otherwise.

Debbie and I really wanted to challenge ourselves in the writing, and this we did. We also wanted people to think about what kindness might look like in our world and culture. Kindness in the workplace, commerce and industry, Kindness in education, Kindness in the health and care sectors, Kindness in politics, Kindness in the media. You get my drift, I'm sure. Kindness in EVERY aspect of life! 

Yes, you might think it's all a bit 'pie in the sky' ... but we can but dream, can't we?

And it's not just about the occasional Random Act of Kindness ... it's about being intentionally kind, as well as developing kindness in our lives to the extent that, eventually, we may not even have to plan being kind but it will come naturally. As naturally as breathing! If kindness was just embedded into every aspect of our being then it would, I believe, begin to manifest in all the things we do ... including all those sectors mentioned above.

A year and a bit on from publication by Authentic Media UK in August 2022, and it does feel that the world seems to have reverted to it's pre-pandemic nature ... and kindness seems to have taken a back seat. Again.

'The Gift of Kindness', we hope, is evidence that once the world managed to survive a global pandemic and kindness had a great deal to do with that.

I mentioned that today is World Kindness Day, and we explain in the book that this day was launched by the World Kindness Movement in 1998. On this day ...  13 November ... we are encouraged to make the world a better place through good deeds (although of course, being kind is for every day ... and not just for today or even for a pandemic). The World Kindness Movement is a coalition of nations’ kindness NGOs and was celebrated across the world, and it’s captured the imagination of people and governments. Many many countries now recognise World Kindness Day.

Maybe today, or tomorrow, you might like to consider what kindness means to you and whether you are a 'kind' person. The book isn't just narrative. At the end of every chapter there's a summary, and a prayer and some 'practical pointers' that you might like to give thought to as you look at kindness in your own relationships, interactions and life.

If you fancy exploring the subject, you might like to buy our book... it's on lots of sites online, including the publisher - Authentic Media (UK) and Amazon, of course. 

And just to whet your appetite... here's an extract from my part of the 'introduction' to the book ... just a little something to show how 'personal' kindness is to me.

The importance of kindness in the world

Throughout my life I’ve witnessed and experienced kindness on many occasions, and in many people. Living as a child of Christian leaders in The Salvation Army, who then moved to Africa when I was quite young, I was aware of the kindnesses of others. I learned the importance of kindness and the implications of my behaviour and actions.

Our family had little in the way of money and resources most of the time, but often we benefited from the generosity of others, and I also saw the way my parents shared what little they had with others. Before we left for Africa and my parents were church leaders, I remember going down to breakfast and finding a ‘gentleman of the road’ at our table, my dad having met him the previous evening and brought him in from the rain and cold, with an invitation to sleep on a mattress in the garage to prevent him freezing on the streets. In Africa, a Boxing Day picnic and barbecue was held on our remote farm where many local Salvation Army and other friends gathered with our family, everyone bringing something to the table to share.

If you’ve ever got involved with one of those ‘sharing’ lunches or suppers, you’ve seen kindness in action because there will always be those who are unable to bring food to the table, but are welcome to sit down to eat anyway.

Throughout my life I’ve witnessed people spending hours delivering food parcels and reaching out to others who they don’t even know. In fact, on the day my dad passed away, or as we say in The Salvation Army, was ‘promoted to glory’, he had spent the afternoon picking up food from the Marks & Spencer’s supermarket which was still in date but could not be sold in the store, so it could be packed up and delivered to those in need.

As a journalist and broadcaster, I’ve been privileged to witness so many kindnesses down the years and especially in my time as a ‘faith’ producer and presenter, working in programming which reflects faith and Christian communities, I have been humbled by what I have seen and reported on. The churches and individuals running foodbanks, looking after homeless people, caring for victims of trafficking and domestic violence, and families in crisis. Not to mention those just making themselves available to offer a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on.

Of course, we know that good deeds are not confined to people of faith, but as Christians these sorts of kind actions are what Christ calls us to do, and while some may see it as their ‘duty’ or even their job to do this work, I would say that when we have Jesus in our lives this is something that could begin to come naturally. It’s an example of that kindness imperative that Jesus empowers us to live out. When we ask ourselves ‘what would Jesus do?’ then the answer has to be – be kind, compassionate and loving, not to draw attention to ourselves but just because it’s what we are called to be and because it feels natural to do it, even if it means a sacrifice for ourselves.

And what we do doesn’t have to be ground-breaking. Acts of kindness and compassion come in all shapes and sizes.

Making a difference

During the coronavirus pandemic it was part of my job, then working for BBC Radio Jersey, the local BBC radio station in the Channel Islands, to help share ‘Make a Difference’ stories. This campaign was quite simple, really; it just gathered stories of people who were reaching out to others, mostly for little or no reward or recognition. We shared those stories on the radio to inspire others and, sometimes when appropriate, to gather support for those causes.

No sooner had the first lockdown begun in March 2020 than we saw the setting up of a special Facebook page – ‘Coronavirus Jersey – Acts of Kindness’ – a grassroots campaign to connect islanders and share resources and messages of support. It also helped people to share their needs without feeling ashamed, and this resulted in the most tremendous outpouring of kindness. All over our lovely little island of Jersey, rainbows appeared in windows, a sign of hope. Children painted little pebbles which you would come across in random spots around the island as a reminder of love and kindness and friendship. People stepped up to deliver goods to those shut in at home, to volunteer, to share what they had with those who had less.

At the invitation of the government of Jersey, The Salvation Army church and charity movement locally established and ran the island’s foodbank and what resulted was an outpouring of support and love – they were inundated with not just messages of support but donations of food and cash and manpower. The hairdresser who couldn’t open his shop instead spent his time working in the foodbank. There were many volunteers, most with no connection to the church, who stepped up to fill food bags and drive around delivering them safely to those who could not leave home. It was a real community effort!

One story from the pandemic that sticks in my mind is the ice-cream van man who, in May 2020, parked his vehicle in front of the hospital and gave free ice creams to all those health professionals and others working in that building to keep us healthy and safe. And he did this on his own birthday! What a joy-bringer! We will read more about this later in the book.

It is easy to be cynical about the world, to seek out the negative in people and situations. But we don’t have to look far to see the good that others do every day and, especially for those of us who aspire or claim to be Christians, if only a little of that inspires us to go do the same, then we will be truly living the Jesus way.

Treasures Among the Stones

In recent months I've begun to collect sea glass.

If you don't know what that is ... well, sea glass is bits of glass which have washed up onto beaches!

When you find a piece of sea glass it's not just a thing of beauty to behold, but it has it's own story to tell! 

At some point the glass was probably part of a bottle or something else fashioned of glass and who knows where it came from in the world? The sea currents could have brought it from far-off oceans and coasts until it is finally broken up into the smaller pieces that pitch up on our Jersey beaches.

After being battered about in the waves and on the sands, probably for many years, it's usually smooth, not jagged ... although at times I do find 'newer' pieces which are a bit lethal and which, obviously, go straight into the bin! So my sea glass hunting is also helping to clean the sand to prevent accidents to unsuspecting bare feet.

Here in my home island of Jersey in the Channel Islands, sea glass has often been used to create beautiful things. Some artists work sea glass into their pictures and create fabulous jewellery from the items which can be discovered on our many beaches. 

I've been doing quite a lot of sea swimming and walking on beaches in the last few years as I've tried to handle the stresses of life, changing circumstances and the ensuing mental health challenges that have come my way, and this year I've begun searching for sea glass.

Inspired by a canvas that a friend gave me as a Christmas gift - an image of a festive tree created out of pale green, bluish, clear and white sea glass - I decided (as you do, even if you're not an artist) ...' I could do that!' 

And so at times, I find myself wandering up and down beaches, looking for the little bits of glass among the stones and detritus which the tide has washed up. And, as a result, I'm amassing a little store of pretty glass ... much of it clear and milky, some blues and greens of various shades. All different shapes and sizes.

Recently I took a walk at La Mare Beach in St Clement on the east coast of Jersey and beyond to the area called Le Dicq, which I know is good for sea glass and also little bits of pottery including blue and white ceramics from a piece of crockery which at some point probably graced a kitchen dresser or a dining table. 

It was low tide, and not quite sunset,  a perfect time for sea glass hunting, and apart from a few other walkers I had the beach to myself. I'd had a pretty stressful 24 hours so I needed to clear my head and, to be honest, I wasn't confident of finding much glass. I'm a person of Christian faith, and I was listening to some encouraging music which assured me that in the storms of life I have a friend who is there for me - Jesus Christ - and that nothing is impossible with God, even when we are faced by uncertainty and what we may consider insurmountable problems.

At first, I only found a couple of little pieces of sea glass. But the closer I looked, the further I walked, suddenly I began to spot more ... and more ... and more.

A small piece of glass hidden among the stones on the shore, a shard on its own in the sand, and then a few quite large pieces smoothed and shaped from years of weather and wearing just sitting there waiting to be discovered.

And it occurred to me that sea glass and sea glass hunting is like life, and like my journey of faith.

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with the challenges of life, and worried about the future, that I miss the beauty of the moment. I miss the sparkling treasure sitting there, right in front of me, just waiting to be discovered and used for something new and beautiful.

When I looked closely, even at a pile of stone and rocks and seaweed, suddenly a tiny piece of glass would sparkle in the setting sun over the beach. I was reminded that sometimes I might have to sift through some of the challenges of life to find beauty. I might have to ignore the detritus of my life to find moments of joy and love and hope. I  might have to keep looking and keep looking for the good ... but trusting that it's there to be found!

The interesting thing about sea glass hunting is the more you look for it, the more you see. I walked probably half a mile up the beach and then turned around, following mostly the same route I had taken on the walk up ... and yet as I made my way back to the carpark and my vehicle, I spotted glass I had missed the first time around.

Maybe that was because I was looking more intently now, or perhaps because I was looking at the beach, and the race of stones and rocks on the shore, from a slightly different angle. I'm sure you're getting my drift on this ... sometimes we miss joy and peace and hope and beauty but then, when we return to the situation, and maybe look at life with a different mindset or from a different angle, we find all those treasures in exactly the places we may have missed them before!

It also occurred to me that once the tide has come in again, once the water has shifted things around and churned things up, it will leave more treasures on the sand, and new beautiful objects that wash up on that tide. But the water may also uncover and reveal bits of sea glass which may be hidden tight now but once the piles of stones and rocks and seaweed are moved around, they are there ... to be discovered.

As I walked along that beach, listening to my inspirational music, I found myself asking God to help me ... to help me not to obsess so much about the challenges and rocks in my life but to seek out the beautiful things, the hope and the miracles which may be just waiting for me if I can but see them. If I but look for them! If I make myself aware that they may be there!

Some people call this talking to God  'praying' ... not in the way that you might pray in a church or a temple, which can sometimes be rather formal, but just having a 'chat'. Not just talking to God but also listening. Most importantly ... listening.

And so, on this particular sea glass hunt I clearly heard God's voice as I walked and talked with and listened to him.

I heard him say ... something like this...

'Look for the beautiful things, they are there but may be hidden.'

'Your life may be full of rocks but, like the tide, my love can wash away those challenges if you let me do so, and treasures and happiness and insights and joys which at the moment may be hidden in your grief, confusion, uncertainty and hurt will be uncovered, will be there ready for you to discover.'

In the end, I gathered quite a little hoard of lovely sea glass on my walk, to add to my collection at home - and one day I will create something beautiful. At the moment I don't know what that will be ... perhaps, as in life, we don't need to plan everything meticulously in advance but just see what comes when we are ready to create! 

There are Treasures Among the Stones of life ... perhaps we just need to look more intently and patiently, to try to see beyond the rocks in our lives and instead be alert to the blessings that are granted to us and believe ... a Better Life is on the way!

And, as if to prove His promises, at the end of the day I was blessed with one of God's most beautiful creations ... a most glorious sunset!

How great is that?

A Book Collection

Down the years, when people have found out that I'm a writer I've occasionally been asked 'Are you related to Amy Le Feuvre?'

 

Well I'm not, sadly, but probably around 25 years ago I was in Cambridge doing a TV story (as a TV producer and reporter) & visited a publishers which I discovered had links to Amy. That day I also dropped into a book sale in the city & found a copy of one of her books!

 

It was like a Sign!

 

Down the years, every time I see old books for sale I check for an Amy.... and so started a sort of collection which I've added to spasmodically over the years!

 

So, imagine my delight today, while browsing in a local charity shop in Jersey, to discover this one ... a new title for my little collection!

 

For those who are unaware, Amy wrote Christian books for children from the end of the 19th century and in the early decades of the 20th! She wasn't from Jersey but had, I believe, Guernsey roots and lived in England ... and she wrote more than 65 books and for several magazines!

 

Although the stories are rather 'dated' now, I do love their innocence and her writing! I think she was a bit of a pioneer & certainly given the number of times I'm asked if we're related, she's obviously remembered by a certain generation! I believe her books were often given as Sunday School prizes! Who remembers those?

 

I started to collect information about Amy at one point ... I must do more research!

A Little Welsh Doll

If you take any notice of this blog at all, then you will have realised that it's been a whole twelve months since I posted anything.

My last blog post was March 1st 2022 when I wished you all a 'Happy St David's Day'!

And today I repeat that greeting ... including in Welsh ... because, of course, St David is the patron saint of Wales, and today is his patronal day.

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus!

And in honour of the day, I share with you a Little Welsh Doll ... dressed in traditional Welsh attire ... but more of that later.

When I wrote my blog post last year,  I little realised what the succeeding 12 months would bring.

Let me explain ... and this will also explain my absence.

For quite a few years now I've been living with my darling Mum here in Jersey in the Channel Islands and although she grew older she remained well and happy and active. That is, until the COVID pandemic hit us and, in 2020, forced us all into 'lockdown'.

This affected Mum as it did many elderly folk across the world. We were together as a family (Mum and myself and one of my brothers) but our lives became 'smaller'. Mum's mobility altered and she became frailer. I worked from home for a couple of years but then, at the end of March 2022 I left my job, to work more 'freely' and give myself time to spend more time with Mum as her needs grew.

This time last year Mum was forgetful and not very mobile, and often terribly anxious about pretty much everything, but still herself really. Although we kept isolated, COVID finally got us in late March, and that seemed to speed up Mum's ailments. She quickly became very poorly and her forgetfulness developed into what we now know was full on dementia, with moments when she barely knew us. And yet, there were still moments of clarity and personality, and love.

In The Salvation Army, the Christian denomination (church) that Mum and I are aligned with, when someone dies we say they are 'Promoted to Glory' because we believe that when we die we do not 'disappear' into nothingness, but rather as believers we go to Heaven to be with God and Jesus and all those who have gone before.

In early May last year, our darling Mum was 'promoted to glory'. And although I know that, at the end, she was ready to go ... so tired and so poorly ... the shock of losing her was immense for us all, especially her family.

Mum was the centre of our family, the secure point in my life certainly. She had a special relationship with all her children and I, as the only girl, was privileged to have a beautiful relationship with her. She was not just my mother, but my role model in life and faith, my friend, the person to whom I turned for recognition and affirmation and wise counsel.

And, suddenly, she was gone. No more smiles or laughter, stories, kisses and hugs, support and advice.

The grief I've experienced in the past year has been ... well ... earth shattering for me.

For months I just couldn't operate at all. I was so tired - physically and emotionally exhausted - from the many months of caring for Mum as she became less well and less mobile, more anxious and more vulnerable. Not to mention the last six weeks or so including the final few weeks sitting beside her, holding her hand in hospital as she slowly slipped away. As a family we were able to say our final 'goodbyes' but the whole process ... including hospital issues which I won't go into right now ... was devastating. Losing her has also brought other challenges and anxieties for me and often I have found myself wanting some advice and not having Mum, my sounding board, to turn to.

Right now I'm still tearful at times because I miss Mum so much...but the gut wrenching grief, which overwhelmed me in those first days, weeks and months and which rendered me immobile at times ... is beginning to level out. A little.

And these days I find myself remembering and smiling, sometimes through a few tears, but more often with thanks for the lovely person Mum was, and the relationship I had with her, and the legacy of faith and love that she left us, her family, with.

Today was one of those days and this is where the Little Welsh Doll comes in.

My Mum was originally from Wales and she was very proud of her Welsh heritage ... she kept the traces of her Welsh accent even though she lived out of that country for most of her life. 

Years ago my 'Auntie' Lil, one of my Mum's 'Best Friends' in Wales, made this little doll, probably for a Salvation Army church fair, knitting the outfit which represents the traditional Welsh female national dress. Mum often said that when she was a little girl, she used to be dressed up in the dress, apron, shawl and big hat on St David's Day and for other special occasions. She loved that doll because it reminded her of her childhood and her family who raised her, her heritage, and her friends. The shawl also reminded her that when we, her four children, were babies, she swaddled us close to herself in a Welsh blanket or shawl as generations of Welsh mothers had done before her.

That Little Welsh Doll usually sits on her dresser, but in the past few years we've placed it on the other side of the lounge, on the fireplace mantlepiece where it was in her line of sight from her chair. Seeing it there made Mum smile, and brought memories flooding back.

This time last year when the doll was once again placed on the mantlepiece, we again had a conversation, as we had so many times, about the Welsh costume days, and the Salvation Army bring and buy 'fairs' or sales, especially in the early days of my Mum and Dad's Christian ministry as officers or church leaders of The Salvation Army, some of those spent in South Wales itself.

So, today, I took Mum's Little Welsh Doll from the dresser, blew off a few specks of dust which had gathered on the dress, and placed it on the mantlepiece.

And I smiled, albeit through a few tears, and remembered my Mum with all the love in the world.

I miss our conversations, even if we had them over and over in the past few years. I miss her so much, and every day, and probably will do so until it is my time to cross over to that other land. 

But today, as I remember St David and all my Welsh family and friends, scattered across the world, I smile and remember my darling Mum and give thanks to God that we as her family and friends, and the world, was privileged to have her for so long (nine decades) and we were privileged to be able to care for her at home until almost the end. I give thanks even for those final hours as we watched her slip into Heaven, heart breaking as it was.

Thanks Mum! Love you Lots! See you in the morning!

Hope you're enjoying your first St David's Day in Heaven!

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus!

Happy St David's Day!

Today is St David's Day!

And if you're from the country of Wales, if you're Welsh, or part-Welsh (as I am) this is an important day.

On March 1st every year the people of Wales, and those of Welsh heritage wherever they are in the world, celebrate their patron saint. 

My Mum is Welsh so in our family we've always known about St David's Day. But it was when I spent my final two years of schooling in Wales that I realised how passionate people are about their saint, their history, their culture and their language. 

On this day, people wear the traditional symbols of Wales - daffodils or leeks - and in fact at school I remember one girl coming to class with a leek ... a huge vegetable ... pinned to her chest.

It WAS, of course, very funny ... and wow did it smell by the end of the day ... but it also impressed me as being a great show of 'nationality'.

On this day we may also enjoy traditional Welsh food ... my favourites are Welsh cakes which are like little griddle pancakes. Yum!

Today - St David's Day 2022  - also happens to be Shrove Tuesday, the start of the season of Lent, 40 days during which Christians prepare for Easter.

Shrove Tuesday is also known as 'Pancake Day' ... if you want to find out more about that maybe you'd like to read my blog post from 2021 when I wrote a blog every day of the year ... 'One Day at a time'.

But let's get back to St David, and you might be asking this question ... who was he?

Well in the 6th century, he was a Bishop of a place called 'Mynyw', which is the modern day St Davids, a city in the county of Pembrokeshire  in the southwest of the country.

David (Dewi) was born in Wales, although there's no clear evidence as to the year that happened. It is known that he was a celebrated teacher and preacher and that he founded monasteries and churches in Wales - St David's Cathedral is situated on the site of a monastery he founded in the Glyn Rhosyn valley of Pembrokeshire - in 'Dumnonia' (a kingdom in the southwest of England) and even Brittany in France. David is even believed to have visited the ancient religious site of Glastonbury. 

David established his own Monastic Rule, a system of religious and daily living for monks, and one of David's main rules was that when his followers were tilling the soil, THEY had to pull the plough themselves, rather than animals. Monks living by the Monastic Rule of David drank only water and ate only bread with salt and herbs - no meat, and certainly no beer. They were allowed no personal possessions and while David's monks worked in the day, they spent the evenings reading, writing and praying. 

So, why is David's feast day March 1st? 

That's the day when it's thought he died. As with his birth, there's a question mark over what year that was. Some say 601AD, others 589AD. 

David was buried in St David's Cathedral and his shrine was a popular place of pilgrimage throughout the Middle Ages. Invading Vikings removed the shrine during the 10th and 11th centuries but in 1275 a new shrine was constructed, the ruined base of which remains to this day.  

Although St David had been a popular saint in Wales since the 12th century, his religious feast day didn't become a national festival until the 18th century. And it's on March 1st every year that Welsh heritage people celebrate the man who now is their patron saint. Children especially are encouraged to celebrate as they learn about their history, and they often head to school for the day dressed as coal miners or in the traditional Welsh woman costume, with the girls often wearing a leek in their lapel. I remember at school one girl wearing such a BIG leek, a huge green vegetable, that it covered her whole chest and ... boy did it smell (like onion).

But why daffodils, and why leeks ? 

Well the leek became a symbol of the Welsh spirit because one legend says that St David advised his people to wear leeks in a battle against the Saxons. It was the days of hand-to-hand combat and wearing the leek meant that they would be recognised as Welsh by their compatriots in the heat of the battle - so no chance of someone killing a fellow Welshman! That's just one of the stories, but leeks were a popular food for many centuries and were also used for medicinal purposes, and the link with St David's Day is thought to be especially through the Tudors, who had strong Welsh roots and heritage.

And the daffodil?

This lovely yellow blooms appears in early Spring, around the time of St David's Day and it's just a joyful flower, isn't it?

But the floral link with Wales is fairly recent really and is thought to have been adopted as an alternative to the leek in the early 20th century, by which time the wearing of vegetables on your coat on March 1st had become a bit of a joke. Welsh politician and elder statesman David Lloyd George, who was British Prime Minister from 1916 to 1922, was said to be an advocate of the daffodil being used as a symbol of his Homeland.

The Welsh are a proud people and on St David's Day that pride is more obvious than ever.

If you're not aware, the country (now called the Principality) has its own ancient language. Welsh is a Celtic language - with links to the ancient Celtic Britons - and although for centuries Welsh was the common language of the people, it did fall into decline in the early 20th century as English became dominant. However in the 1990's the value of the native language was formerly recognised for its importance to the Welsh culture, heritage and future, with The Welsh Language Act 1993 and the Government of Wales Act 1998  regulating that the Welsh and English languages should be treated equally in the public sector, where sensible and possible.

These days there's Welsh speaking media, the language is taught in schools, as well as there being educational establishments where Welsh is the predominant language for conversation and teaching. I read recently that as of September 2020, it was reckoned that about a third of the population of Wales could speak the language and more than 15% spoke Welsh every day. It's been a real success story for the reinvigoration of a mother language that could easily have died out. And if you visit Wales, you'll see signs everywhere in Welsh and English.  

I know just a few words of Welsh ... passed down through my Welsh heritage ... but I'm no expert.

So, finally, today I could say 'Happy St. David’s Day!

But I instead will sign off by wishing you ...  'Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Sant Hapus!'