Today I got asked to write an article for the local magazine and be interviewed at an upcoming evening event for our church (whoop whoop!). As both these things happen in the autumn term I am immediately on the case (in August), because – as anyone who knows a teacher will understand – I anticipate disappearing down my well of school stuff from September.
Apparently in both these things (article and interview) I am being billed as a blogger which has spurred me into actually, you know, writing a blog, as I seem to have gone into a sympathetic metaphorical dry spell to match the literal one. I blame the holidays.
We are recently back from our annual grand tour, three weeks away in the caravan. Lucky, lucky us. In a world where all the articles on my social media feed are about the rising cost of living crisis and how families are struggling to eat, never mind take a holiday, I do not take it for granted that we get to jet off (not quite jet – the pace to Cornwall with a caravan is quite leisurely) for an extended period and relax. It seems imprudent to say the holidays are the best part of being a teacher, but it is definitely up there with, you know, inspiring and transforming the lives of young people, and getting to talk at them for extended periods about Shakespeare.
For the first time we’ve joined English Heritage (thank you, Tesco Clubcard vouchers) and so fitted in a few castles which was quite interesting and jolly and broke up the beach days. (Those of you who have known me long enough to hear me go on about the Heritage New Zealand bargain approach to visiting historical sites may be interested to know I somehow broke the system and they have now cottoned on and whacked up their overseas prices, so that loophole is well and truly closed). Mike also convinced the boys to recreate a motte and bailey castle on Minecraft, which makes me feel inordinately smug about our parenting.
As a family, we do well on a beach day. Our basic approach is to find a beach where the car park is very nearby, and then to take ALL THE THINGS (kayak, gazebo, food, toys, etc.) and then spend long enjoyable days there. This year the boys have all got into Beano, and it is pretty epic to relax with a book on the beach surrounded by children happily giggling over and exchanging reading material. Gone are the days of needing to be the constant main source of entertainment. (See, it gets easier: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-things-getting-easier )
The problem I’ve had with beach days (aside from lugging the tons of stuff, breaking all my fingernails dragging five people in and out of wetsuits, consoling people after their lunch gets full of sand, and other minor inconveniences) is the temptation to compare my physique with the bikini-clad girls around me, naturally to the detriment of my self-esteem and mood (I’m just not the tall and willow-y type; I blame the genes). I don’t think I’m particularly vain, and I know I don’t struggle with body image to the extent that some of my dear friends and many of my students do, but still… I’d made a bit of progress thanks to the discovery of swimming shorts (comfy and convenient, but I did get mistaken for a lifeguard at the pool) and more recently a swimming dress (ok standing up, but the instant you hit the water it turns into a tutu shape which kind of negates its purpose of covering up the lumpy bits, and turns you into a Disney ballerina hippo), but this holiday I had a bit of a breakthrough. I realised I am happy in my skin.
(Little aside. True story: this time last year, I was dancing with the boys at some random dance competition at a fair because they wanted to win cuddly toys, and I got handed a prize - a facial hair remover?! The more I think about it, the funnier it gets...)
Not my literal skin (which got particularly spotty and freckled after a long time spent in the sun covered in suncream and with no access to a proper shower) or even in my own body (still working on convincing a friend to join jazzercize with me). But I just realised, “Yes, these women around me have more beautiful bodies, but I am content.”
Simple, right? I wish I could go back to my teenage self and say, “You’ll never be satisfied with how you look but you’ll be happy anyway, so just don’t worry about it.”
I’m still in touch with my former English teacher and I’m sure he won’t mind my quoting his recent Facebook status, which accompanied a photo of him with his cute granddaughter on his shoulders: “If somebody had told me, when I was 21, this is how life will look for you at 61, I think I would have been happy with that. I am happy.” Lovely, right? And I read that and I thought, “That’s really nice – that’s lovely for him.” and then I thought, “I’m happy like that too.”
Maybe I’m happy just because I have a really privileged life? I’m nearly 16 years into a settled marriage which I appreciate many people would find enviable, I have three healthy boys which is definitely not to be taken for granted, and I really enjoy my job, even if I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day to do it to the standard to which I should like. Plus a good relationship with my mum, a wonderful church, kind friends around me – what’s not to be happy about?
Actually, probably plenty of things. I was recently reading books to the boys about Queen Elizabeth’s reign and one really interesting children’s book was about all the lifestyle changes of the last 70 years. I said to Mike with genuine incredulity, “How is it that as a nation we are healthier, wealthier and longer-living than we were before, we have less infant mortality, more leisure time, more disposable income, we have better home appliances, better transport and communication… and yet we aren’t happier? Plenty of the young people I know are so anxious and unhappy.” And there are probably lots of good sociological and psychological reasons why which I don’t understand, and it’s all very sad anyway. But at least in part I suspect that it’s because people are people and so relationships are messy, and relationships are even more complicated now for all sorts of reasons with social media and family instability and stuff and so it’s harder. And fundamentally being wealthier or whatever doesn’t make us happy; right relationships do.
Paul famously writes to the Philippians: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” I know I can’t say that, in my privileged little bubble. Prick me with a pin (literal or metaphorical) and I’m pretty sure you’d see my contentment wane fast. But I can SEE it at least. I can see that a right relationship with God, the security of being loved and purposed by him, should lead to contentment. Another helpful line which was spoken about at my sister-in-law’s wonderful church down in Exeter this holiday was, from Psalm 37, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” which for me translates as, think on God and things that matter, and your heart will hanker more over serving him, and less over a bikini body. So I’m not there yet (couldn’t we all do with a bit more God-enjoying?) but at least the theory is getting closer and meaning more. Mike's really working on this idea too, but I think his version involves fewer bikinis.
I’m an English teacher so my understanding of books works in terms of comedies and tragedies. And the Bible is a comedy. It has plenty of awful, scary bits, but it ends on a high note, a wedding, like the great Shakespearean comedies, where the couples leave behind their trials and barriers and there’s a happy ending. And therefore the life of a believer is ultimately on that same positive trajectory, ending with the great wedding feast and being united with God for eternity. It's definitely not a simple formula, is it: know that you have a happy ending, so you don't have to focus so much on the current ups and downs. But it's a big comfort, a big start.
I have a fairly cushy set up and I’m happy and if I say that too much I’m sure it’ll get really annoying, and probably future me in the midst of some really dark season will also look back at this and also be irritated (or maybe pleased with myself for celebrating the good? I dunno). But I also have a secure future which cushions me against disappointments.
As our holiday away came to an end, I pondered if I was sad to go back home. No, I love our new house. And would I sad about when the summer's over and we have to go back to work? No, because there will be great things about work too.
I’ve posted before about the September blues: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-dead-cats-and-september-lilacs But I’m not feeling blue, even though I sort of should. I return to work even though I should partly love to be a home-schooling mum, and that looks like an increasingly attractive option for our family for various reasons. I return to work minus the temporary promotion that I was enjoying, and which my pride and purse shall miss. (‘Hurrah!’ say the school parents who read this blog, “She’ll stop sending out so many parentmails!”) And today we finally made a fairly momentous career decision for me, which I ought to be sad about, but I’m not. God can use me at school, and God could use me in another role as well, and that’s ok. And whatever the twists and turns, I know that ultimately the story has a happy ending. And that is good news. Ergo, the contentment.
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