Ruth Clemence

writer & blogger

Blog

  • Wounding Words

    Wounding Words

    Sometimes there are no words for those times when you are attacked for being the very person you are. When your identity is questioned, shouted down and you are made to feel less. I know my identity. I am unashamedly loved by Love Himself. As I lay in bed feeling wounded by flaming arrows of… Read more

  • Transformation: TAG Conference 2016

    Transformation: TAG Conference 2016

    Let me tell you a story. The 25th-26th October was the third annual TAG Conference, my first experience of TAG and I hope it will not be my last. It was absolutely brilliant. Me and three young people who come to some of the youth groups at church went to Tiverton in Devon for two days… Read more

  • Why The Carpenters Got It Wrong About ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’

    Why The Carpenters Got It Wrong About ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’

    Have you ever wandered aimlessly somewhere just because you could? Today I decided to do that. It was pouring down with rain and I wanted to ‘test-drive’ this umbrella that I recently purchased. I feel like a child sitting in a pushchair with one of those rain covers over it. Weird I know. But I… Read more

  • The life of a youth work trainee aka ‘Youth Ruth’

    The life of a youth work trainee aka ‘Youth Ruth’

    ‘Youth Ruth’ was a nickname given to me from some of the youth in my church. There are other Ruth’s that make up our congregation (surprise, surprise given the biblical name!), so this was a way to set me apart from the other Ruth’s. It also rhymes with ‘youth’. Bonus. I’m a youth worker in… Read more

  • The Day I Became An Ice Cream

    The Day I Became An Ice Cream

    ‘I don’t think I can cope with anymore changes.’ These were the words a family friend spoke to me recently as they were going through some challenging changes in their life. Transitions can be tough. It’s the start of a new academic year, a new season as autumn greets us with darker, cooler mornings and… Read more

  • Pardon my Poetry

    Writing this I feel numb. The words I write don’t seem to come. Watching loved ones suffer some more, I am tempted to close the door. Lock it shut. Lock it tight. I don’t have the strength to stand and fight. The tears roll down, I just don’t care. I feel guilty as they share.… Read more