We had a fellowship lunch at church today and I have spent an hour excitedly talking with others about how I am so stoked to get into missions overseas.

I wish I could discuss these matters with my family in such a manner.

*sigh*

Happy Sunday from a slightly bewildered Shaun!

:)

Having enjoyed lunch with my mum and sis, I am heading home to crash out on my bed in comfy clothes and listen to epic, soul-soothing music while I dream of all the things I would love to do in life.

If anybody wants me, Whatsapp or text me - I’ll be motionless and contented between my headphones.

Tomorrow morning (later today, in fact) I am spending a couple of days at the coast with my folks, walking a famous set of cliffs known as the Seven Sisters. I did it once about 11 years ago, so I can’t wait to go back.

The actual purpose of this post, aside from informing you of my impending trip, is to explain/justify that the reason I reblogged a 99-question quiz is to keep me busy on the journey, with your help.

So just to clarify, I will answer any submissions in the mooooorning…yes, you will most likely be asleep, so be sure to check back when you wake up if you really care that much about what I put hehe!

And no, I will not answer AAAALLL the questions, you lazy beings haha. Use your brains and select a handful.

:)

All I want for Christmas -

is for some semblance of joy to return to my family and this house.

A rather burning request for prayer.

Okay, so how to be as succinct as possible without skipping necessary information.

My Godfather Russel has been battling arthritis for 25 years now, having had replacement surgery for artificial hips and other parts of his pelvic region. Such was the severity of his condition that it has long since left him with a crooked walk, reduced strength in his legs and the need for regular hospital appointments and medical aid. The recent months have also seen him battle an onset of cancer to which, when met with chemotherapy, he has been responding well…

Until today.
Today it was revealed that a sudden onslaught has increased the number of spots on his liver almost ten-fold, and so it was announced to him that he can expect to live for another 3 to 6 months.

The extremely aggressive last-ditch chemo attempt they are planning will, in all likelihood, have no effect, my father told me earlier as he broke the news.

There are further ramifications. You see, my Godfather also happens to be my parents employer, and it is quite probable that his passing will result in their unemployment. This however, is quite rightly the last thing my folks and I care about at this moment. What breaks our hearts more is a good question - is it the wife and 2 children, 16 and 18, that he will leave behind? That this Christmas could well be his last? Or is it that his parents, who are in ill health themselves will, at this rate, outlive their son? All of these are awful to even begin to contemplate.

News like this often leaves you suspended between not believing that it’s true and not wanting to believe it’s true. I have now had my time of tears over the matter, I accept that it’s very much a reality and now I find myself desperate to pursue the Lord with petition and prayer more than I ever have for anything.

So, I ask you to pray for peace over his family, friends and work associates. Over my family and I. For an abundant release of joy, strength and love to be brought into his unbelieving heart at a time when so many withdraw, distract and self-destruct. Pray for the God of all things to reveal Himself mightily through this trial. Pray for my father who, by his own admission, is now being led to question the extent of his own faith.

I am dwelling in a house of severe unrest and need, friends.

But here’s the thing; the one focus for your prayers that I urge you to cling to, even if you forget everything else I have said up to now…pray for this -

That God would loose the supernatural healing and revival over this broken life that I know not only is He perfectly capable of, but that I fully believe He will. That He will completely restore Russ so that next time he visits the hospital they cannot find a single trace of anything cancerous inside of him. Just imagine the rejoicing that will bring. No way am I laying this to rest and praying for a cosy exit when I can be on my hands and knees, every spare moment of my day if necessary, upholding this precious life before the God who has saved my life, as well as those of countless others in times of peril.

The same power that conquered the grave lives in you and I through our faith in Christ and the sheer, radiant grace of the Lord - ALL things are possible.

Let’s bring my Godfather before God THE Father.

Amen!

RE: My last post

I just wanted to say that I value and appreciate all of your prayers so much.

It’s so humbling to know that there are people willing to uphold others in prayer whom they have never even met.

How wonderful the body of Christ truly is.

The Lord bless you and keep you all!

:)

Prayers for my family would be appreciated, brothers and sisters; at the moment there seems to be no joy between the walls of our abode. I have come to the realisation that only God’s grace can restore the laughter and glow of life that once danced with the dust and air of our house, and my efforts are, without His guidance, all for nought.

So please,

pray.

I understand that this is by no means life-threatening or against the clock; not a critical illness in need of a desperate miracle.

But it’s draining all of them, which in turn is draining me as I watch my closest living relations withdraw into shadow and hollowness. We’re deflated.

Thankyou, friends. I know that our God is more capable than I could ever understand.

:)

Watercolour Walk.

This was a writing challenge presented to me by my lovely friend Larabelle. She asked for a story about “a lost little girl, fear and betrayal and brokenness, self-discovery and healing”…I don’t think I did too bad a job, but she wanted the outcome putting on here.

Any more challenges of this sort are more than welcome, just inbox me. :)

Watercolour Walk

Rarely do you buy an expensive portrait and then watch it char and dissipate in front of your eyes, littering ash upon foot-worn wooden flooring, before vanishing without a trace of remain in a gentle July breeze.

That’s not how perfect pictures perish.

Not like that.

They go with grace.

Yet for Stephanie, it had come to pass; a vision of bliss, a household once filled with laughter and warmth, reduced to embers and smoke as a result of an adults foolish decisions and careless words. The consequences of said actions were now all too clear to see, though every best effort was made to keep them hidden at first – A shameful skeleton in a closet the two of them had tried to destroy.

But sheltered they did not remain – Stephanie might have been young, but stupid and blind she was not. Left to piece together the who’s, what’s, when’s and the where’s, she found herself more immediately concerned with why; why they had felt the need to seek satisfaction elsewhere, why she hadn’t been told, why the two of them weren’t trying to fix things…she was powerless to observe as her home crumbled, the debris left for her to wade through, but nobody bothering to clean up.

They were so caught up with their own bitterness; their now-unearthed sadness, their malice and their overly-complicated ways. Too caught up to even notice the day that Stephanie left. A bag packed, appearing far more prepared than in actuality, her astute stature belied what little was contained in the backpack she clung to under the gaze of the Saturday morning sun. She had even left via the front gate; not secretive in her exit, a 12-year old girl wanting, praying, that somebody would stop her and ask the inevitable trail of questions that would result in her spilling the entire fiasco amid a cascade of many a years worth of unspent tears.

Nobody stopped her.

Nobody asked.

For 5 years she had survived, making her own way, teaching herself the things that her parents had neglected to. Benevolent strangers and sincere hospitality from fellow humans were her lifeline. Choosing out of spite to beat a hasty retreat from all who inquired about the whereabouts of her family, she spoke only to those who found themselves occupying the same tunnels and alleyways as she; and when they asked questions, she gave her answers, and they understood. She made friends and developed guardians in a place most consider inhospitable, a new family whose own misfortune and status brought about an empathy and recognition lost on those who looked down from their high-rise offices and second-storey suburban home windows. How they were oblivious to the privileges surrounding them.

Stephanie did not begrudge those people, nor had she ever. This path had been her choice, and she did not regret it; wherever they were now, the ones who had housed her those first dozen years of her life had not seen fit to seek after her. There was no denying that it certainly wasn’t the scenario that had played over and over in her beautiful mind on those infant nights those many moons ago; the passing of time had sped from the glacial pace of seemingly endless summers to a gallop as weeks blurred to seasons in the blink of her emerald eyes - but she was content. She was alive, and Stephanie was also blissfully unaware that a few days from now, while scavenging for food, she would happen upon a kind lady who would stand out from others she had met; unlike any other. A lady whose merciful nature and uplifting conversation would eventually lead Stephanie into her welcoming home, where this hurting adolescent heart would start down a path filled with promise, hope, and a warmth that had seemingly so long been absent from her world.

But now, as she curled up to get some sleep, arms wrapped tightly around a stained coat found in a skip, her bedding dripping wet from recent rainfall, Stephanie stared up at the sky, and wondered what lie ahead; was the image of her life a partially-burned self-portrait?

No. As she would soon discover, it was simply a case of finding the right painting to fit the frame.

Writing Challenge Post#5

Set by: allimyers

Words: yellow, staircase, complacency, coffee, holiday

Word Limit: None set

What does a staircase hold? Well, that all depends what lies at the top and the bottom really. To some, it’s a weary trudge laced with complacency at the end of a working day that holds a hot bath, comfy clothing and junk food, others still a dash, each planted foot skipping two steps between as they rush home to a family, pet, or worst case scenario, bills.

This particular staircase, however, is having a quiet week as the family that utilise it are currently midway across the Pacific, jetting to their holiday destination. The peace is appreciated; a well-deserved rest for our aging friend in his worsening state. The spilling of coffee and deafening thud of their 2 young children as they tear up and down the wooden pieces that combine to make the whole takes a leave of absence, giving these stairs time to admire the surrounding oak, pale yellow curtains and cream furnishing of this well-worn suburban abode. Time that will eventually expire.

I consider you all to be my Valentines because I love all of you -

Just because it’s a different kind of love and it’s not within the confines of a romantic relationship, it’s no less valid.

so,

Happy Valentines Day

to all you Tumblr people! Thank you for your words of encouragement, your support and the way in which you motivate and challenge me in my faith…most of all, thank you for your friendship; it holds great value in my heart even though it stretches oceans and continents for many of you. What a strong bond we have, that it does not bend or break over such distance.

I love you very much indeed.

Your brother in Christ,

Shaun :)

xx

A day in the snow.

Today’s been the best day of the year so far (I can say that because the mind-blowing We Are The Ocean gig I went to a few weeks back it was at night-time!) :)

It started off with some inter-bedroom praise, prayer and worship on account of church being called off…Great one-on-one time with me and God!

Then I went up to Tesco with my friend Michael, and my sister decided to tag along, affirming her place in our little fellowship with the promise of a free Subway…

…which I’m happy to say, she delivered.

*om-nom*

As it tranpsired, her real reason for joining our trip was wanting to get a crate of beer to take to her boyfriends tonight, but the flaw in the plan is that my sister is lazy when it comes to carrying things, so we devised a scheme; we bought some washing baskets with holes in them, distributed the beers, created handles from string and dragged them along in their makeshift sleds. We even packed in a little snow to keep them chilled!

I also bought Sims 3, but refrained from covering that with white flakey goodness (not dandruff).

On returning home, we threw snow snowballs at each other, the house, the neighbours - just about anything, really. Then Mike and I decided to go and build in the park, having seen the abundance of snow. The resources seemed unlimited. Would we build a snowman? A small replica of an igloo? Ohhhhhh no, these were far too generic.

So we built a chair, nay a throne. Which we were able to sit on.

Then we hollowed out the underneath. It still took our weight.

Now around this time, a small collection of young trouble-makers (aged 13 I later found out) came past and thought it would be fun to try and destroy the fruit of our labours, which of course we did not take kindly to. So we took it upon ourselves to play good cop / bad cop with them. Michael initially wanted to just go and hit them, but I calmed him somewhat and convinced him to carry on sculpting while I enter my role of good cop. I started talking to them, asked them why they wanted to destroy it, and even made a few light jokes regarding their poor aim which got them laughing. Great, I thought, confrontation avoided and I even felt pleased that I’d extended love, not hate, towards these lads who obviously just wanted to cause a little mischief.

Sadly, the moment was short-lived. A stray shot hit Michaels shoe, and I can only presume soaked his sock.

Bad cop was officially on duty.

He went after them, strutting like an abominable maniac, spouting a torrent of angry slurs and offensive language. Suddenly it seemed that all the passers-by and strangers who’d complimented our work and stopped to take photos were reconsidering their impressions of us, having heard what came out of his mouth.

Sad times.

Needless to say, the kids ran off.

We then sculpted a small being to perch on the chair, and gave him facial features. We were just finishing its hair as the previously-encountered teens returned with reinforcements…ahem….two girls, clearly rather uninterested in their apparent quest of unprovoked destruction.

Well, we were finished, we had pictures as proof, so we knew what we had to do - 

We relentlessly tore that chair and its occupant apart right before their very eyes, then I turned around very calmly and said,

“Sorry lads, we beat you to it.”

Like. A. BOSS.

It was honestly like something out of Hollywood, like a street-wise spin-off of Narnia!

Now here I am, at home, writing about it all, wishing you could share in the memories and revelry with me, just li-

wait a minute, what am I saying?

Pictures will be up shortly, friends. :D