Appearing on the ‘Our Lives’ film for the Children’s Commissioner and First News, was a real privilege, as it seeks to show the lives of different children in 2016. Hearing Max talk of his previous life in another country is humbling and makes me realise how fortunate we are living here.
Watch the film here:
Last night was the best service of my life, when I publicly dedicated myself to Jesus Christ; and I was particularly honoured that so many friends and family could share my special service with me. During the service my wonderful godfather read out the testimony I had written:
Living Life in all its Fullness
With Jesus as my saviour, companion and friend, I have lived my hours here with happiness in my spirit and content calm in my soul. Knowing He is with me; cradling me in pain, sheltering me from darkness and beckoning me forward, has given me the strength and serenity to look life in the eye and smile. Like the constancy of the second hand of a clock, Jesus inhabits the quaver beats of my life; and as that beat slows, I look forward with excited anticipation to the day I will see Jesus; and live together with Him in His garden forever. In the meantime, I cleave to Jesus: my faith and my life.
The Author of Life
Beauty breathing through my soul,
Cradling arms tending my frail frame,
Sheltering rock whilst life’s storms rage,
Dancing with quaver beats of joy,
Anticipating Love’s beckon,
Home in the garden forever.
©Jonathan Bryan
In commemoration of 100 years since Roald Dahl’s birth I have written this revolting rhyme, as partly heard in Hardeep’s Sunday Lunch yesterday.
Rumplestiltskin
The tale of Rumplestiltskin tells,
Of how men use their little gels,
To harness some financial gain,
And rid themselves of the dire pain,
Of finding a suitable man,
To wed their daughters. Here’s the plan:
The miller lies, the miller cheats,
“My daughter spins pure gold in sheaths,”
The king heard this as he rode by,
“I need this woman to be my
Treasurer, spin gold, fill my bank,
If she does this, the highest rank,
Of queen, my wife will all be hers
But if he lies she will incur,
My wrath poured out on severed head.”
Thus our heroine full of dread,
Waved goodbye to evil father,
For certain death ever after.
Locked in a room with spinning wheel,
And enough straw for a cow’s meal,
She dissolved into distraught tears,
When suddenly an imp appears,
“My dear,” he said with such aplomb,
(Brought up properly at Eton),
“Dry your eyes on my handkerchief,
What I perform is past belief,”
She sat snivelling in the corner,
Reader, how shall we forewarn her?
For whilst he spun the straw to gold,
His real intention was foretold,
By the smooth leer upon his lips,
Calamitous relationships,
Followed him where’er he travelled,
As quickly his charm unravelled.
Delighted with the pure gold pile,
She gave her necklace with a smile.
The king with pound signs in his eyes,
Places more straw to her surprise,
This time she calls out for her friend,
Who saves her from her sticky end.
With love bursting within her heart,
Her precious ring she did impart,
As a sign of her intention,
He accepts for his deception.
The king is greedy through and through,
And demands one last revenue,
The imp returns, she’s aflutter,
What he demands makes her shudder,
Her first born son is all he wants,
Despite her imploring response.
So now she’s married to the king,
Proud mother to her first offspring,
Imagine her immense surprise,
When imp returns to claim his prize.
You all know the story from here,
Three days for his name to appear,
She gets it on the final night,
His anger drove him from her sight.
What dear reader is never told –
How this encounter made her bold
To leave the king and start afresh,
Caring for children in a crèche,
Where she tells her favourite story –
She triumphed over men in glory!
© Jonathan Bryan
Listen to my story on Sunday at 1.30pm on BBC Radio 4.
Can you work out what I said that made Hardeep cry, and what I said to make him laugh?
Baking is my favourite pastime, even though I cannot eat because I am tube fed. Why? All my life people have done things for me; by baking I can make others happy and nothing gives me greater pleasure.
Baking Beauty
Filling, beating, stirring, pouring,
Baking beauty life restoring,
Dripping goodness love in sharing,
Aromatic health repairing,
Pleasant parcels held with pleasure,
Tantalising tastes to treasure.
Recently I was invited to join my primary school class for the week long residential at Oxenwood Outdoor Educational Centre. With an itinerary including climbing wall, canoeing and mountain biking I was concerned about how included I would be. I need not have worried, as the centre staff and my mother went above and beyond to ensure I was given every opportunity to experience all activities. Memories of being excluded the year before evaporated, making way for new.
With a can-do attitude anything is possible combined with the belief that special needs children are worth the extra effort. Half the battle is won in the mind and the other is triumphed with an adaptable and flexible approach to the practicalities as proven by the staff at Oxenwood.
Being included makes me feel loved and part of the team as opposed to different and lonely. Everyone deserves an equal opportunity to experience life in all its fullness.
This is my poem on the residential.
Activities adapted,
Inclusion at their heart,
Tidal waves of belief,
Esteem growing with my part.
Escaped on bikes; elated,
Hair ruffled in the breeze,
Views absorbed; time stands still,
Free-wheeling downhill with ease.
Friends clapping cheering chanting,
I’m rising to the sky,
Pulling me to freedom,
My ovation soaring high.
Dogged determination,
Proud member of Rhine class,
Great team forged with laughter,
Fantastic friendships last!
© Jonathan Bryan
During the holidays I had a wonderful time. Frolicking sisters and a coasting daddy made for an entertaining display, freedom to be ourselves was the most wonderful fun.
H appiness emerging excitement growing,
O ceans of dancing waves lovingly flowing,
L aughter like singing birds heard in the morning,
I rresistable ice-cream noon-time yawning,
D addy filling our heads with figures and facts,
A way we’re escaping down unexplored tracks,
Y early adventures treasured deep in our hearts,
S adness its over til the next one starts.
© Jonathan Bryan
Click here to read my recount of the summer
My life was saved by a stranger. What is more extraordinary is that I never met her. Up until the age of four my life was dictated by dialysis, doctors and debilitating sickness. My kidneys were starved of oxygen and blood at birth and, like my brain, never recovered leaving me with chronic renal failure. Every day was a struggle with extreme tiredness, towels of sick and nightly dialysis.
All that changed one snowy January morning with a phone call to my parents telling them a transplant match had been donated. Overnight my sickness stopped as did my need for dialysis, and I felt properly well for the first time in my life. Since my successful transplant I have been able to concentrate at home school and have even been to France for the day.
During this Organ Donation Week (5th-11th September 2016) please consider joining the organ donation register and having a conversation with your family about it. My life was totally transformed by the generosity of this stranger and her family. It will be my honour to donate my eyes when I die so that when I no longer need them my eyes can give new sight to someone else.
Quickly the summer passes like a long-awaited train puffing through the corn fields; enraptured in the moment we jump and clap with joy, happiness enveloping our souls. Making the most of each weeklong carriage is always challenging, but to help us we all write or draw our hopes for the summer holidays on a large piece of paper.
This summer I would like to:
Read and write poetry
Make a cake
Bake new things
Visit my grandparents and cousins
Meet my oldest friends
Help my best friend learn to read
Going on holiday with my sisters, parents and godfather will be the highlight.
Whatever your holiday involves I pray you are blessed.
Excited to be appearing on The One Show tonight – BBC 1 7pm. Here is a poem I was writing on the day that they came to film.
© Jonathan Bryan
Eye Can Talk 