Home - a place where I belong

Written October 2022.

New Year 2018/2019 – Glad Café New Year Party – Bells struck midnight and I questioned my whole faith. I was the loneliest I had ever remembered being and had recently walked away from a job in ministry (that I’d always felt was my calling) for what I hoped would be the last time.

I still fully believed in and loved God, but I was hurting and just felt that church – something I had loved dearly since my late teens – was no longer for me. I couldn’t do it anymore. I’d already had 3 months out and nothing made me want to go back. I was sore and wasn’t sure I still wanted to follow Jesus anymore because it just felt so hard. I had burned out and I just wanted to go back to my friends in London.

A month later, my best friend Ruth cottoned onto the fact that my “sabbatical” had just turned into me no longer going to church. She challenged me on it, but I just made excuses. I’ve always said that I would only go to my local church and there were no churches local to me that I wanted to go. I was pointing out problems with all of them – even ones I had never been to. Her brother was at a church in the West End and she said she would take me along. I’d always thought that Church was a bit weird (I mean, I was completely averse to a church I had never stepped foot in apart from their Christmas market which I’d thoroughly enjoyed!!) and American…

The Sunday I was finally going to go, she let me know that they had two weeks prior opened a church in the Southside – a 3 minute walk from my flat – and that I should go but she couldn’t come. It was an answer to prayer as I had been reluctantly praying that I would find a local church to go to. I walked along but was late and the doors were closed (later I found out that was to keep the heat in!!) so I went home.

I tried again the next week and found the door slightly ajar (I was late again!) Worship had started and the Southside was socially distancing before it was cool so the only seat I could slip into was in the second row. It felt immediately like home. At the end of the service, the woman in front of me grabbed my arm as I tried to slip off and told me she that we were going to be great friends and did I want to join the worship team?! I politely told her that this wasn’t my church but in that moment I felt deeply loved. She wanted to be my friend. For those of you in the Southside, you don’t need me to tell you this beautiful soul was Lindy.

A couple of months later, I was asked to join the prayer team. I politely declined and said that “I don’t go here – I’m just visiting” – the retort came back, “Iona, you’ve been here every week for months, can you just hurry up and become a member!” Brutal but true and I couldn’t say no, I had been loved so hard by this church for no reason other than that’s what they do.

For almost 4 years, they have loved me hard, have given me a community to love, have called out the gold in me, have let me do the same for others, have trusted me, have given me space to grow and use my giftings… they’re making it really hard to leave as I move back south.

ReHope, you have been such an answer to my prayers – you were exactly what I didn’t know I needed! Thanks for bringing me home and reminding me of who I am and who He is.

Memories of a September Dream.

(Written January 2016)

At some stage I was going to have to write something on this... This has been written over several months as I didn't know what to write. For some of you, you might just think I'm trying to drag this out but I can assure you, that is not my intention. I realise Scotland made her choice and she is not independent... Yet.

The reason I haven't taken the time to write anything until now isn't because I couldn't be bothered but it's because I was grieving. I still am.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick."

Wise words from my favourite book.

My heart has been crushed. I still cry every time I think about what could have been for Scotland. There are songs I haven't been able to listen to since the wee hours of Friday 19th September 2014.

For those of you delighted with the verdict, I would love to say I'm pleased for you.. I have tried to say that every single day since the result but I cannot bring myself to say it. I know those of you who chose to vote no did so because you too love Scotland and you did not want to see her fail or because you thought it was better to stay united (or perhaps both). I just cannot see it from your side - and I never will - please don't try and force me too. 

Please, just let me mourn and grieve for my heart is breaking over my loss. This may sound melodramatic but the truth of the matter is, the result on the 19th September felt like a death in the family. It was the hope of a promise that never saw the light of day. My heart broke.

On Thursday 11th September 2014, I jumped on a train at London Euston and headed for Glasgow. Perhaps London is where I call home but Glasgow will have my heart forever. She's been on a journey with me like no other city and she's been faithful. As I pulled into Glasgow Central, I could feel something in the air. It was just turning midnight and the city was relatively quiet but it felt different. There was a sense of anticipation brewing in the night sky.

The next morning and I got up late - all my friends and family were at work so I had a quick look at the chat on social media - it was all referendum based, then I went round to see my nieces and nephews and it was all the family could talk about too. That night, my brother's band were playing a gig in town so I went and once again the indyref wasn't far from the tip of anyone's tongue... I had never known so many people to be as well versed in politics as I found Glasgow to be right now. Sure, London has a few who know what they are talking about and a few who pretend but this... This was something else. It was like an electrical current charging through the city from one person to the next.

On Saturday, after catching up with a couple of my friends about antics the night before, I headed straight into town. Everyone and anyone seemed to be heading for Buchanan Street for a massive YES rally. The sun was beating down and the atmosphere was that of carnival! I have never known such mass excitement about politics. It felt like we were standing on the cusp of a new dawn - a new era. For Glasgow to be this hopeful? This was new!! This was a people who knew what they wanted and they were making NOISE! Intelligent noise. It was peaceful, it was friendly, it was fun, it was loud, it was singing and dancing in the streets of Glasgow. It was beautiful. It's the Glasgow I always knew existed under her perceived hardened exterior. It's the Glasgow that I know and love.

That week it was more of the same but the anticipation continued to build. I eavesdropped into a conversation of ten 14 year old boys on their way to play football in the park - they were all talking politics and they were informed. They spoke eloquently of economics and austerity, foodbanks and equality. They knew what they were talking about - on both sides of the argument. My nieces and nephews who were all under 5 at the time even had an inkling of what was going on. They would recognise the YES logo that adorned most windows in the city even the occasional "No thanks" badges. The front pages of the papers screamed that Lord Ashcroft's polls suggested that YES would win. This was a moment of sheer elation but also enough to get Davey, Eddy and wee Nick racing up to Scotland with a bee in their bonnets.

Two days before the referendum, Labour got into bed with the already cosy Tories and Lib Dems and released their love letter to Scotland: The Vow. I was immediately skeptical - since when were Labour and Conservative getting all pally pally? Surely people wouldn't fall for this tosh, would they? It was obvious that the party leaders would renege on this if they got their way and it was obsolete if they didn't. At least, I thought that was obvious.

Then Thursday arrived. Thursday 18th September 2014. We all woke up early - it felt like Christmas, to me anyway. My oldest sister came over with her kids to mum and dad's house and we all went to meet my other sister and her boys so that everyone could vote together. We wandered round to the local polling station and took photos on the way - it felt momentous. As we walked in to the station, my parents and sisters handed in their polling cards (I had been away from Scotland for too long so didn't get a vote) and they cast their votes with the help of the kids. I cried. Being overcome with emotion in a polling station had never been something I'd known before but as I said before, this was different. It was the first time in my life that I had known a vote to actually matter in Scotland. My family were actually getting a say in their country. It was massive. I looked around and wasn't the only one in tears. We headed outside and bumped into the wonderful Nicola Sturgeon. We chatted with her and we spoke of our quiet confidence. We then took the kids to the park and celebrated our votes with ice cream. The rest of the day was excruciating as we waited. and waited.

That night we headed to the Cafe for a shindig. The place was rammed. The trad session was in full swing and the bar was 6 deep all night. That sense of carnival from Buchanan Street the weekend before was flowing through the cafe and venue. Everyone was telling their stories of the day. We were all ecstatic at the 84.6% turnout of voters (Nice one Scotland!) and some even told stories of polling stations closing by 11am because they'd had a 100% turnout already! The usual Scottish turnout in an election was 50-60%. At midnight, a piper arrived and the place erupted in a rendition of Flower of Scotland. It felt like a victory party - had we in fact already done it!

The dream soon died as the first results were met with a groan. Suddenly we all crashed back down to earth with a bump as more and more no results flooded in. How could it be? I barely knew anyone voting no... but then we were in Glasgow. One of only four yes majorities. The BBC arrived and wanted to interview me, I just wanted to cry. I think they did in fact film me crying. The last results came in and only a few of us remained in the venue. We got up and could barely even look at each other. The place was full of debris from an incredible party of hope the night before and a few broken hearts who had waited with hope for a result which did not come.

By now, the kitchen staff were arriving for their shifts with heavy hearts. They made me and my parents some breakfast and we sat in silence. One or two people came in. They had just woken up to the result and didn't want to be alone in their sadness. We couldn't quite believe it. I ate and then fell asleep on the sofa. About 30 minutes later, the next shift came in and my friend Emma woke me up with a hug and sent me home. The newspapers were out and Cameron had already reneged. He'd also already made a full of himself with some story of the Queen purring like a cat. I just wanted to sleep.

When I woke up, I cried some more. and then some more again. I went out for dinner with my parents as none of us had the energy to cook. I cried there too. The waitress said I looked how she felt. She brought me a large glass of wine. We met up with friends that night to celebrate their birthdays. We had previously been hoping to also be celebrating an independent Scotland. It wasn't to be. I didn't stay long. I had to grieve. Only 24 hours before, we had been celebrating our freedom to vote and now there were reports coming in of fighting on Buchanan Street and George Square, the homes of friendly, hopeful rallies for a better Scotland. I won't go into this anymore, but let it be known, these people did not represent the YES or NO campaigns and they didn't represent Scotland either.

The day after, hope was stirring again. The cafe was buzzing with people getting together to form grassroots movements which would see Scotland become the place of equality we had dreamed of in the indyref campaign. People working together in the face of adversity from the government. The rebirth of hope was tangible - like a phoenix from the ashes.

And so I finish, with the words of a man, who through this campaign completely altered my view of him, Alex Salmond, who called the referendum a "triumph for the democratic process and for participation in politics...for Scotland the campaign continues and the dream shall never die."

Evviva il socialismo e la libertà.

this is my current single status...

As I approach my 29th birthday and 30th year, the majority of my friends and all my siblings are now married and most have children. I've spent over a decade attending weddings of friends - not even ones that my parents have taken me along to - my friends. It's been amazing seeing so many lovely couples getting together and starting off on their own family journeys. I love weddings, I've even helped friends and family plan their weddings. I think it is an amazing celebration of love and my favourite weddings are the ones that really reflect the couples identity and interests. But this blog is not about weddings and it's not about marriage. It's about the other side of the coin.

Several months ago, I was catching up with a good friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a while. She is an amazing woman, with a lovely husband and delightful children. I was telling her how although I don't mind being single, sometimes it can feel pretty lonely - especially when everyone around you seems to be married or in a relationship. Often people, especially in Christian circles, will ask you why you're single (When I was 27, someone actually asked me why I wasn't married!!) or tell you that if you don't hurry up, you'll be left on the shelf (Yes! It's true. A well meaning relative actually said that to me a few years ago when my sister got engaged!) A lot of the time, being single isn't the issue, it's the comments like that which sting. As I poured my heart out to my friend, she really listened to me and then told me something which has made my heart feel ridiculously free ever since. She told me that sometimes she was a little envious of me. She told me how she loved her life and adored her family and wouldn't give them up for the world but sometimes when she saw me going travelling or moving to the other end of the country, she saw that I didn't need to compromise on the things that I wanted to do because there was nobody to compromise with! Wow - I had never seen it from that side before. Suddenly I felt a new found freedom that I had been taking for granted all along.

A couple of months after this, I was praying with a girl I didn't know. She couldn't have been more than 21/22 and I had a picture for her about dreams that she had locked away. She immediately burst into tears and blurted out that she had always wanted to get married and start a family but she felt like she was on the shelf. I could identify with her pain - I remember being a similar age and feeling the same. Even now, I feel an occasional pang in my heart when I'm around my siblings, their spouses and my nieces and nephews. There is a longing within me to be a wife and a mother. That isn't wrong but for some reason, girls often put huge pressure on themselves to find a husband, that they aren't enough on their own. Why is that? What are we being taught that makes us feel that? It's been going on forever and we see it in almost every walk of life. It needs to end. Ladies, you are not half a person. You are whole and you are dearly loved. Recently I saw a social media post which said, "Your value does not decrease based on someone's inability to see your worth." That is true and it is also true that your value doesn't decrease because you are not in a relationship. You have huge value because you are you. No one can take that away from you unless you let them.

If I had a pound for every time someone told me that it was the minute they stopped looking for a boyfriend, or the moment that they became content with being single, or when they really started pursuing God more than anything else and that's when they found their husband... I'd be a millionaire by now. And do you know what? Maybe that was true for them but it hasn't been for me and there is nothing wrong with that. I am not desperate for a boyfriend (that isn't the same as saying I don't want one), I am content with being single and I have pursued God like my life depends on it - not for a boyfriend but because that's what I wanted to do. I'm still single. There is nothing wrong with me. There is no magic formula. The time will be right when the time is right.

While I've been mulling all these thoughts over in my head, I was chatting to another friend, she asked me why I labelled myself as single. Married women don't label themselves as married all the time and mothers have their own identity aside from being a mum. So why was being single a large part of my identity. I realised that it was because other people around me kept labouring the point. Yes, it's true and yes, it's part of my identity but it's not my main identity. It's no more my identity than the fact that I'm a daughter or a sister. It's of much lesser importance than my identity as a daughter of God.

I have been single for the best part of 29 years, with a couple of relationships here and there - the majority of them not being highlights in my life! - and my life, for the most part, has been pretty brilliant. Why should I wait for a man so that my life can really start? To any single women reading this, singleness is not something to wish away. You may have already reached this revelation. If so - brilliant! But to those of you who haven't, don't be like me - get this revelation as soon as you can.

In the words of Natasha Bedingfield (there's a cheesy blast from the past!): "I'm not saying I don't want to fall in love, coz I would" but the next time you want to ask me about my love life, perhaps ask me how my relationship with God is instead. It's of a much higher importance and if there is something about my love life that you ought to know, you'll find out when you need to.

Peeks x

In their stride

In November 1985, a young Glasgow couple brought their 4^th child screaming into the world and she hasn’t shut up since. Almost 28 years later, that wee baby has somehow found herself in a plan much bigger than herself and has wound up living in London.

That baby is me: Peeks.
At least that’s how my gorgeous nephew V refers to me.

As I approach my 28^th birthday, I’ve been looking at the family around me which seems to grow every time I blink… I have the most incredible family. It seems fitting to start this blog with them for they are the ones who have had to put up with my incessant wittering since I uttered my first word.

My parents are unbelievable. They had brilliant parents to learn from but somehow my parents seem to be on another level. Sure, they haven’t always got everything right but who does? I couldn’t have hoped for better parents. My siblings and I definitely put our parents through their paces in many different ways – I know I haven’t been the easiest child in the world to bring up!!! – yet they seem to have taken it all in their stride and loved us relentlessly.

This brings me onto my sisters and brother. They are all married and parents themselves these days and like my parents they seem to have taken to parenthood and family life like ducks to water. I am completely in awe of them and their spouses as they bring up my incredible nieces and nephews. The oldest of this new generation is my 4 year old niece who recently visited me in London with her two brothers (parents in tow). She is a shining example of how all five of this generation are being brought up; an utterly gorgeous girl who is completely delightful and fun to be around. Does she push the boundaries? Of course she does, but that is all part of growing up. Watching how my sister deals with that is amazing – she is a brilliant mum. Both my sisters are, because they learned from an incredible mum.

And my brother? Well… my brother has only recently become a dad but as one of our oldest friends said about him in the days before his daughter arrived: “He’ll be a great dad; it’s what he’s been getting ready for his whole life.” It’s true. And in the few months of him being one, I can assure you, he’s a natural and doing a fab job. But again, we have a fantastic dad who has taught him well. I must admit, although my siblings are doing a fantastic job and look like they could do it with their eyes shut, they have chosen incredible spouses to partner with.

I love watching my siblings flourish as parents and only hope that some of it has rubbed off on me too. Not yet, but maybe one day.

Peeks x