Susie is letting her little light shine

'No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, he puts it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light.'
Luke 8:16

We had a children’s talk based on that verse today. By good ol’ Barbara Clark, who insists on bringing her fairly irritating son up to assist her every time she does one. Today was no exception; however, it was slightly different, in that today I didn’t completely zone out and start thinking about anything other than the talk. She was ‘demonstrating’ the verse - as is always done to marvellous effect in a children’s talk – with a candle, which was supposedly some sort of heirloom, with a nice picture of the nativity on it. It was quite obvious that it had never really been lit and was never going to be. But she ‘decided she was going to light it’, and Theo (son) did, then she quickly covered it up with a jar, saying about how she wanted to protect it and keep it safe and the such. Obviously when she lifted the jar up, the candle had gone out because it had run out of oxygen (which Theo proceeded to explain to us and was met with gasps of amazement at such insane intelligence from a 10 year old. Whatever.). Anyway, even though she went on to talk about shining your light for everyone to see and not hiding it away; it was actually this ‘scientific revelation’ which got me thinking.

The verse talks about allowing our ‘light’ to shine out, letting others see that we have God in our hearts, and not being embarrassed or ashamed to let people know. We should not put it in a jar or under a bed, because then no one will be able to see it. But actually, in practise, it turns out there’s another, more scary reason not to hide the candle/lamp in a jar: because eventually, it goes out. I think there’s a pretty powerful warning in there, that if we keep our faiths to ourselves, if we refuse to share it, if we don’t let it ‘shine out’, then eventually it will just burn out. A faith won’t fuel itself, it needs more than just the wick of ourselves and the initial spark of the holy spirit, it needs oxygen, stimulation, fellowship, worship. In no way am I saying that God is finite, or will change or will ever leave us. But it doesn’t take a genius to realise that we are capable of moving away from Him. We can change; we can hide our faith away and starve ourselves so much of what we need, that eventually we allow our faith to simply burn out.

Susie is beginning to wish she hadn’t given up English, so she’d be able to write a little more coherently.

Susie is smiling

Tonight was the final performance for Living With Lady Macbeth, the play that my drama class decided to put on because we love acting just a little bit too much. And it actually went really well. I screwed up some lines and missed some bits out, but I don’t even care. The audience didn’t notice, and everyone said it was great, and that’s all I could ever ask for.

One thing I’ve realised from this is just how very much I love performing. I noticed it after the anniversary supper, with ‘Soul Sisters’; it genuinely makes me happy. So many people dread standing up in front of people, they struggle to be out there and confident and the thought of acting scares upsets them. But what has been made so clear is that I’m such the opposite of that. Being on stage, making people laugh, giving people enjoyment, being someone else for once, is what really does make me happy. I don’t know if it’s just the adrenaline or the endorphins or what, but how I feel now, an hour after the performance has finished, is infinitely better than I’ve felt in a long time.

I wish there was some way I could do this forever. I wish I could change all my plans, switch to acting and actually have a hope in hell of getting anywhere with it.

Susie is going to stop wishing, and start enjoying her brief, but very welcome happiness.

Susie is pissed off.

Today has just put me in a really bad mood. That’s a lie. This evening has just put me in a really bad mood. About 2 years ago I started helping out at XS, and when Ruth and Lizzie started hating it, I really didn’t understand why, because I loved it. But now, I dread every single Monday; it pisses me off, upsets me, and just always puts me in moods like this. The girls are at horrible ages where they start complaining and being mouthy and taking the piss, and I know that I can’t do anything, because the slightest thing I do I’ll get complaints about. I can’t shout at them, I can’t swear at them, I can’t put them in detention or stop them doing the stuff they want to, because I don’t actually have the authority for something like that.

That’s the thing with this place you see, they’re not friendly with me, because I’m a leader, but they don’t respect me, because I’m not a teacher. They reckon that because they’re not at school, they can do whatever the hell they like and I can’t do anything about it. And they’re right, I can’t do anything. And it bloody annoys me.

And it annoys me how stupid parents are. As soon as their little darling comes into the world, they suddenly can’t do anything wrong; their word is truth. And it’s a load of bull. Because then you get kids going home and complaining to their mummies about stuff that never fucking happened, getting attention for it and just making my life difficult.

And they have no right to make my life difficult. I don’t do this for money, I don’t do this for the thanks, I sure as hell don’t do it because I enjoy it. It takes up my time, which frankly, I could be using for much better things right in the middle of my ASs. It takes up my energy; and it really fucking grates on me. Why the hell should I have to come home every Monday night in a foul mood because some shitty child has pissed me off? Why should I have to drag my arse back to that place every week just to hate another hour and a half? Why should I have to get condescending looks from leaders and no thanks from any parent or child; when at the end of the day, I’m fucking good at what I do there, because people come in and tell me so. Why should I have to begin to hate most bloody children, just because I’ve been landed with a shitty bunch? The only reason I have to cope with them is because if I quit, and God knows how tempted I am to quit right now, they wouldn’t be able to run the fucking club. Because I bring 50% of all the leaders: me, and my friends who are willing to do it just because it would help me out.

Is it selfish for me to want some recognition for what I do there? Is it selfish for me to want to shout in the faces of every gullible mother and every attention-seeking child? Is it selfish for me to think that this couldn’t possibly be worth a sentence or two in my personal statement? Is it selfish for me to think that absolutely fucking nothing is worth me feeling this shit over?

Susie is sure that if she could screw the lot of them and enjoy her life instead, she would.