At Camp Hope (Camp Esperanza) people wait for the moment when their loved ones are rescued.  In the meantime they hope and they pray.  Pray.  The news reporters show us people hugging and dancing as the news of the drilling break through comes through... and as they hug and dance they thank God; we even hear of prayer meetings held on the camp site.  How often do we see people praying unbashedly?  How often is prayer reported in the news?

However these people understand their faith - and they may do so very differently from me as a western protestant noncomformist - they are a witness to the world of faith steadfast inadversity.

Lord, grant them strength for this day and hope for those ahead.

After two long months the resuce tunnel should break through today.  Once checked and possibly lined for strength, evacuation will begin in an order determined by perceived health and strength.

How must those men, and their families, be feeling?  Hope and anticipation mixed with apprehension and terror.

Will rescue be successful?  Or even at this late hour what might go wrong?  As each man is lifted out and fewer remain, how will it feel to be next, to be waiting patiently or impatiently?  How will the last one feel?

And once they are out and their eyes blink despite the special goggles; as the media circus descends upon them; as they and their loved ones discover who they have all been changed by this, how then will it feel?

May God's peace and love surround them in these hours and days and beyond once we've all forgotten them once more.

The specialist nurse told me to eat "lovely homemade soup" (good job I cook then) and drink smoothies on the days immediately following treatment; she also told me to avoid all things citrus and highly acidic.  Clearly she hasn't read many smoothie labels.  I found one in the Innocent range and one in Sainsbury's own label that met the brief.  So I opted to make my own.

This one was an experiment using a bag of frozen forest fruits (JS Basics, other brands and levels of poshness are available).  I used them frozen, but you could thaw them first.  Chuck into your favourite blitzing device with at least half a pint of grape juice (presumably red is best for antioxidants) apple juice, kiddies juice drink (check the labels first!!) or even plain old-fashioned water and blitz until, well, smooth.  You may need to add more liquid to make it flow as a drink.

With the frozen fruit you can get a pretty good frappacino (slush puppie for grown-ups).

For the smoothie you may need to sweeten with your favourite brand of fairly traded sugar or honey (apologies to vegan readers) as it's quite tart; if you object to pips you'll need to strain it.

Worth trying and experimenting to find what works for you.

Happy to receive other yogurt*/citrus/pineapple-free smoothie recipes in return :-)

*yogurt is on the banned list as it is 'live'

When I was at college one of my tutors once said to me 'never say never' and of course that's wise counsel.  Yet there are always things we say 'never' to.  Three weeks back after my first dose of drugs I said to a friend words to the effect of 'don't expect to see me without hair' and she said words to the effect of 'never say never.'

So, today was the day of the grand shave, something I was not willing to let anyone witness, being far too intimate, and in any case I didn't want anyone seeing my head before I did.

I didn't actually see it until I got home and took off the freshly shaped wig (which was itching like crazy!) and decided it didn't look so bad after all - and it was bliss to feel air round my head after being cooped up in a scarf or a wig.  So, although I have no intention of appearing bare-headed in public, and although it is still far from completely bald (ironically you have to leave about 1/2 inch so the hairs can fall out properly, and falling out they certainly are) I feel it's time to break another taboo and let the world see what I now look like, at least in the comfort of my own home.  I hope it doesn't distress you to see me thus - I'm actually OK with it.  Yes, I'd love to still have another 24 inches or so but it's still me and I'm still made in God's image and likeness.

Throughout history one of the great taboos has been women with shaven heads.  Indeed, in many cultures a woman's hair is more than her 'crowning glory' it is an outward sign of inner fertility (does that make it a sacrament J? ;-) ) and of course for Sikhs and Nazarites it has immense religious significance.  As I have come to terms, in so far as I can, with the loss of my hair, albeit temporary, I have found myself propelled to the periphery of other people's worlds and been granted just a glimpse of what it might mean, or have meant, for them...

Jewish women (and others) shaved on entry to the death camps

'Collaborators' shaved as punishment for their crimes

Conscripts crew-cut as they enter the service of their nation

Nuns and monks relinquishing the tug of the world's perceived vanity

Today I find myself compelled to pray for the Sikh women undergoing chemotherapy, whose never-cut tresses tumble from their heads under the influence of the drugs.

Today I call to mind the woman with the heamorrhage whose story is told in Luke's gospel, forced to the margins of society and religion by the cruel trick nature played on her body.

Today I remember those who live permanently on the margins, stigmatised by the effects of HIV/AIDS, leprosy, accident or injury.

I cannot enter their worlds or feel their pain, and I am blessed that my trip closer to the margins is temporary, but the glimpse I am granted, may it it change me for the good.