Signs of Life…..this is personal.

I’ve been musing about new life; but then I reflected how can someone tell if I am truly alive?

Well a doctor would instantly go durrrr! Heart beat? Respiration? Activity? Or they might supply a broader definition:


Richard Dawkins, however, in his book ‘The Selfish Gene’,  states  ‘The argument of this book is that we, and all other animals, are machines created by our genes’.

Really Richard?  Most scientists, especially those working in the healthcare profession, counsellors and psychologists would beg to differ.

But, most importantly, what does God say about life?

John 3:16New Living Translation (NLT) “For this is how God loved the world: He gave[a] his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.”


God reaches to us through Jesus. Artist Iain McKillop

John 14:6 [NLT]   Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.

John 10:10 [The Message]  Jesus told this simple story, but they had no idea what he was talking about. So he tried again. “I’ll be explicit, then. I am the Gate for the sheep. All those others are up to no good—sheep stealers, every one of them. But the sheep didn’t listen to them. I am the Gate. Anyone who goes through me will be cared for—will freely go in and out, and find pasture. A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.



So the Son of God is very clear real life, life to the full is found in one place only -in Him. Unfortunately many in our society listen to the ‘thieves’ and ‘sheep stealers’. ‘What worries me about religion is that it teaches people to be satisfied with not understanding the world they live in.’ Richard Dawkins

I have never yet met a faith-fuelled person of any brand of religion who could be described as being satisfied with not understanding the world. They seek truth and understanding in many ways, partly by soaking up the information around them and partly by active seeking.  In fact, one of the scientists who discovered the human genome declares “I believe that God did intend, in giving us intelligence, to give us the opportunity to investigate and appreciate the wonders of His creation. He is not threatened by our scientific adventures”. Frances Collins.


My own journey to discover God came through a scientific examination of the historical evidence behind the Bible and the person of Jesus.  Having decided that all the evidence available pointed to a creator God and a person claiming to be the son of God who amazed all who met him, was killed by the authorities of the day and subsequently resurrected, I surrendered myself to Him.  Calling Him Father is the most wonderful thing and that decision was the best thing I have ever or will ever do.  It was having my own children that prompted the desire to know the truth about whether God existed.


Chris tenderly strokes his newly born baby sister

As CS Lewis said (in Mere Christianity) of Jesus, “You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to”. 

So I made my choice, invited Jesus in through the door my life, and from then on, by his undeserved grace, was adopted into His family and became a new creation with a new life.

In the powerful lyrics of Philippa Hanna, in ‘New For Old’

He blows the dust from off the surface
Traces each and every line
And with Scarred and weathered fingers
Holds it up towards the light
He knows exactly what he has to do to bring it back to life
Nothing is worthless for the one who sees the gold
New for old.

My next musing will be about my adopted family – the Church.

New Life.

This is my favourite time of year!  Ok the sun has little strength and the daylight is still short but the first snowdrops followed by primroses, hepaticas, hellebores then daffodils shout out about potential and hope….


Snowdrops now freely seeding themselves around the base of our old apple tree catching the afternoon sun.

The birds have burst into action, robins appear next to me hoping for an easy worm, tits of various types congregate around the bird feeders, the compost heap is full of movement and life from the myriads of creatures that turn an unpromising pile of garden scraps into rich and fertile soil to in turn foster more new life.

The Circle of life indeed!

Spending time outside is something we Brits don’t do nearly enough.  When I am out on the street at this time of year, I see the odd gardener but mostly folk are indoors on their computers, working out in the gym, at work, sometimes cycling or jogging, or travelling in their cars.  Rarely do I see folk without dogs (Southwell actually has a lot of dogs and Im beginning to wonder what this insidious disease is that makes locals feel they are not complete without one – but thats a whole new blog!) just walking looking and listening.img_20170224_162216

Last year I was lucky enough to be able to do a weekend of Mindfulness (I know you who have read the Ladybird book of the subject will be tittering right now!) as part of Macmillan’s resourcing of its professionals.  One of the ‘exercises’ involved going for a verrrrry slowwwwww walk in the garden of the venue, stopping to look or listen more closely at anything that caught our attention.  I noticed all sort of things I would have never normally paid attention to – a beautiful leaf, intricate and tiny ferns and mosses in a stone wall, the variety of birdsong both close at hand and far away, the way the breeze moved and sounded around and through structures.  And doing this brought joy and wonder!  Its that joy that bursts out at this time of year.

This weekend, having pretty well exhausted myself by a winter of giving my all to patients and the other jobs I have, I escaped on a retreat to Upper Wharfedale with Jessica and Julie; two friends who also badly needed to be refreshed and invigorated. Despite my parents having previously lived down river in Ilkley, I feel I don’t know this most beautiful part of our northern spine of hills, mountains and valleys. Our weekend at Scargill House was indeed the tonic we needed for body, mind and soul. The programme ‘Life as worship – worship as life’ encouraged us to lose ourselves in the joy of giving worth to our Creator, Saviour and Father God through song, service, prayer, silence, laughter, exercise and relationships.


The folk who live in Community there oozed joy and love: part of their calling being to share their lives for the benefit of guests who enter their door and to their wider community. Their streamline ‘Lives shared, lives transformed’ certainly felt true for me as I returned home completely made new in terms of energy and outlook.

I have permission from Helen Brocklehurst, the kitchen team leader, and gifted writer/poet, to share one of her creations, which fits perfectly with the theme of today’s musings.

Bless The Lord For Blackberries

Bless the Lord for blackberries, bless the lord for sloes,
for hazelnuts and elderflowers and everything that grows.

Bless the Lord for bonfires and their smokey autumn smell,                                                        for friends sharing marshmallows and the stories that we tell.

Bless the Lord for woodlands, a peaceful place to be,                                                                          for hedgehogs, deer and buzzards and every kind of tree.

Bless the Lord for sledging and the fun of snowball fights.                                                           Bless the Lord for countless stars on cold and cloudless nights.

Bless the Lord for tawny owls calling in the night,                                                                             and bless Him for rare glimpses of their graceful silent flight.

Bless the Lord for lapwings, for the way they dive and sing                                                             and bless the Lord for curlews, hopeful heralds of the spring.

Bless the Lord for house martins that spend the summer here                                                          and cheeky faithful robins that stay with us all year.

Bless the Lord for greenhouses, warm air and buzzing bees,                                               nasturtiums and tomato vines and especially sweet peas.

Bless the Lord for clear blue skies and endless hills to climb,                                                          for squashed cheese sandwich picnics and the warmth of summertime.

Bless the Lord for cups of tea and lazy days in bed,                                                                               for the simple task of kneading dough and the smell of fresh-baked bread.



Back to the future – will we still have an NHS?

30 years ago……..

In 1987 130 young and hopeful doctors fledged from Nottingham University with big plans for healing patients, sharing hope and health, holding hands……a journey of discovery and relationships.


Every 10 years we have come back together to share our lives again, only a few of us are no longer here; a fond memory only, and in the summer we will toast their lives and smile as we recall the times we had together.  Those of us who soldier on giving succour to the ill, reassurance and advice to the well and try to pass on the years of wisdom gleaned to our junior colleagues are now wondering if at our next reunion in 2027 (!!!!) we will still be proud to be working in our wonderful national health service.  Perhaps we will no longer have an NHS.


You may ask why I say that when the public are adamant that the NHS is an institution that these days is more sacred to people in the UK than the Bible.  Well here goes……

Even before austerity hit, the investment by the labour party had begun to plateau just as the percentage of GDP was approaching that of  our nearby neighbours in Europe (but still way below that spent by Scandinavia and the USA).  Since the combined efforts of poor government policies and  poor banking practices plunged the money markets into a downward spiral, public services have all been forced to make huge cuts in spending Continue reading

Why Blog at all?

Once upon a time there lived a family: a Mummy called Pauline, a Daddy called Ian, and their 3 daughters Julie, Barbara and Sarah.

They were an ordinary but happy family who loved each other very much. Like all children the 3 girls had their moments; of play, laughter, fighting and crying.  When they were sad because their friends at school were mean to them or because 1 felt left out when the other 2 decided to go off together to play, Mummy and Daddy were always there to comfort them. When there were things to enjoy together such as holidays (even many weeks of camping!) great memories were forged. When there was something to celebrate, the family knew how to do this in style. One by one the girls grew up and left the family nest: Julie got married, Barbara moved to London and Sarah went on her travels.

I am the oldest of the fledgelings and Dad was proud to hand over care of me to my husband Dave. It was a joyful day.  As our children grew I looked forward to the time when we could re-form as an extended family, indeed Christmases were times when we did just that. I looked forwards to the days when Dad and I could do some of those special things together that Fathers and daughter have the potential to do together – rights of passage type things.  Things tended to get in the way – his work, my work, holidays…….

Now its too late. Although its over 10 years since Dad died I still grieve for the many things we had planned or dreamed to do and never did: the skiing holiday in the Rockies that was cancelled because he became unwell, the plan to walk the Pennine Way together, just the 2 of us, the time he wasn’t able to spend with his beloved grandchildren as they grew up, the opportunity to make of myself into the highly respected professional that he was and to see the pride in his eyes.

But I thank God for those times that we did make the most of.  For that last holiday in Wales that is still such a wonderful memory and for the times when we were able to talk about the big questions of life in that last year or two.



Those last few weeks of his life are a blur of anxiety, pain, unsaid words, anger at the relative lack of support given to my mother by the community and thankfulness that the hospital were able to step in and support us. This include putting us up on the ward as we nursed him together with the ward staff. This was an intimate and moving time. I was blown away by the unprompted arrival of my vicar (who travelled the 150 miles to be with us and pray with us) and the sensitivity of the nurses on the ward.



So where is all this leading?

Like most people who have experienced a time of trauma and loss, I have tried to make some sense of it all, asking questions such as why?    what now?

The journey from there has been full of questing and inspiration.  I have gained a diploma in palliative care, had the privilege of working with colleagues and partners to help improve services for patients and their families in my geography, joined the board of my local community hospice as a volunteer and become a Macmillan GP.  Using the insights I have gained from our experiences as a family and for me as a professional has helped give me an energy that I can use for good for others.

Surely this is what being a doctor is all about?

The story continues. I guess blogging is replacing the old-fashioned diary keeping to some degree, and the privacy of course if published. In our increasingly fragmented communities it is a way of connecting and sharing. I hope that this evolves into something of use to some one some where…….

Do get in touch, Id love to hear from you.