Infusion of peace please

My uncle was infected with E. coli in his bloodstream recently. For a fortnight he received daily infusions of antibiotics at his local hospital. The seriousness of the infection required the powerful medicine to be introduced straight into his bloodstream.
I need a daily infusion of God's peace. We all do. The world is full of turmoil and tragedy. Our individual lives are full of disappointment and decision, stress and worry, and the antidote to this worldly infection is an infusion of Jesus, the Prince of Peace. I need to step aside from the action in my life daily to sit with him and receive. I can't will myself to be peaceful. I can't work it up. I have to receive it.
The Lord, using British Air, took me halfway across the world yesterday, through Storm Diana. She did her best to upset my travel but though I missed my connection, the Lord, again using British Airways, popped me and my suitcase onto one just an hour later.
I could have been anxious about all of that, not least the turbulence of the landings, but the Lord held me in his perfect peace.
It's so simple, but somehow so hard to do. Be still, and know that I am God, and in the stillness we receive his peace. What a Saviour!

Costly gifts

I opened my jewellery box and thought how pretty this would look on you, she said, as she fastened the clasp of a delicate and beautiful opal bracelet on my wrist. The bracelet is beautiful, but even more beautiful is her self sacrifice and her generosity in wanting to give me something which would look so pretty on her, too. A gift from the heart.
David ... Or was it Abraham?... said at one point that giving God a gift that didn't cost him anything would be meaningless.
In this season of gift giving, I pray I might remember that.
Leaving here today. Shredded and tired and aching, leaving mom alone over the holidays, leaving Mhairi. God bless these dear ones.

Gridlock

The freeway slowed, compressing to gridlock. As we crept past an off ramp, the lady on the app advised shrilly that we should take it as an alternative, but her advice came too late.
Ok then...she sounded resolved to our poor choice and informed us there was a major accident in three-quarters of a mile and it would take nearly an hour to get past it. We crawled on, resigned.
An on ramp joined on the right of us, and we were appalled to see a driver, realising the congestion was serious, reverse back down. Into any oncoming traffic which could potentially suddenly round a corner. Then another such foolish driver. Then, unbelievably, someone on that on ramp actually did a u turn and drove quite casually the wrong way. As I watched in the rear view mirror, I saw many more make such a potentially lethal decision. Perhaps there was another car crash given the foolishness of those drivers.
Sometimes life slows to a crawl. It seems there is no forward movement. We feel stuck. The temptation is to bail. The temptation is to seek a way off the road which seems stagnant and is hard. The temptation is to go into reverse or even hang a u turn and drive straight into oncoming traffic.
But as we remain faithful, living the way we believe in, following the way of Jesus, clinging on at times unable to see any progress or forward movement, trusting in him, we eventually reach the car crash which has stalled our lives and safely get past it. We put it behind us without endangering anyone else's safety.
The road opens up. We pick up speed. We have choices again. Life beckons with promise and hope is revived.
Trust in me, Jesus invites. Trust. Keep moving forward, even if progress is hard to discern. It is there, nevertheless. Keep Jesus riding shotgun. Keep him in mind. Keep him in heart. Follow his advice, not the shrill voices of others throwing out good advice. It can be hard to hear him in the cacophony of life. Hard to follow as others seem to get round their crashes and move on. But his is the only real healing. His is the only way which guarantees life in its fullness, life which will suddenly open out again in technicolor, lifting us from the sepia landscape of pain.
Jesus, prince of peace, healer.

Grounded

We smelled no smoke, saw no blackened earth, so drove up into the dry Hollywood hills near Malibu. We were headed to Eagle Rock, where we hiked and prayed and released a balloon last year. Just below the giant rocky escarpment which so resembles the head and body of an eagle, with wings in flight jutting from each side, we sat down on the dirt and gazed at the landscape. We felt connected, grounded in a place familiar, a place with a look that takes me back to my childhood, camping trips, laughter and fun.
We sat beside Eagle Rock as others climbed its bare surface. We sat.
You will soar on wings like eagles. You will run and not grow weary. You will walk and not be faint.
Grounded. Grounded in the Word. Hanging onto the promises. Trusting that soon I will see my sweet Mhairi soaring, running again, walking in faith and freed from all fear. Healed and whole.
Looking across a dry, scrubby landscape, full of promise. Looking for the green shoots.
They who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. Waiting, though the wait may be long. Knowing our God never disappoints. Knowing Jesus is our strength and our refuge and even our song.
The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. In him we trust.

Perspective

Perspective. Hemmed in in high density neighbourhood. Activity. People. Cars everywhere. So we're  pulling back this morning, about to head for the hills once we confirm they are no longer on fire. Last year we climbed to eagle rock, and we hope to retrace those steps today.
Weirdly we plan to reward ourselves afterwards with Macaroons and tea in Beverly Hills, in a French shop Mhairi won a voucher for. It may require a quick change of clothes in the car to ensure we don't enter the posh neighbourhood sweaty and stained.
I sense I need to gain perspective on what I've been doing here these last two weeks. To pull back, be still and listen to the one who gives the clearest understanding.
Praise the one who knows the end from the beginning, and can keep us in his perfect peace whatever the challenges.

Foundations

We came off the freeway and followed the route the sat nav dictated. Heading west, out onto the Palos Verdes peninsula, roads increasingly rural despite our position geographically right in Los Angeles. We passed horse ranches which sparked memories of stories my dad told. Growing up in this beautiful area in the 1930s, he and his brother used to rent horses here and ride bareback in those halcyon days before the world discovered Southern California. Rural landscape soon gave way to ocean views, breathtakingly beautiful.
The earth is the Lord's and everything in it. Houses perched here, beautiful though they are, sit on a cats cradle of earthquake faults. Everything seems secure but one day things will shift.
I admire the gorgeous scenery and quiet oasis in the bustling city, but think of the foundation Jesus is to us and am grateful there are no faults undermining our security in him.
We gathered round a thanksgiving table, Vietnamese who suffered and fled their homeland as refugees decades ago, an Iranian who moved to New York decades ago for a new life, Scots and Americans who once came from elsewhere. Grateful for those who welcome the lost, the refugee, the poor. Grateful for friends and family. Grateful to God.

Refuge

Be still and know that I am God
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear...
Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness. Don't worry about tomorrow.
Words of scripture are a spiritual skeleton. They keep me upright and remind me of truth.
The other night a car drove straight into my car as I went through an intersection, bashing and bending it and rendering it inoperable.
Once again I stand at a crossroads with Mom. Perhaps the light remains red and we are to stay put. Perhaps it is amber, encouraging me to be prepared to shift gear and move. Perhaps there is a filter arrow guiding me right or left. Perhaps the road ahead is clear and beckons.
I don't want to be stationary with fear but with faith. If it's not time to move, I want to be confident that I will recognise the signs.
Neither do I want to be blindsided as I was the other night. I need an awareness of tangential forces as well as prompts to move.
Be still and know. Don't worry. God is an ever present help in trouble.
Today is thanksgiving and my gratitude wells up from within, lighting up my entire being. Without Jesus before and behind, within and without, leading and guiding and encouraging, I would have crashed and burned long before now.
So, with his help I will trust in him and wait. Be still and wait.
Happy thanksgiving.

Oil spill

An oil spill on the freeway when a truck overturned. Three lanes closed. Chaos and queues. Fortunately some things haven't changed here,and I could come off onto surface streets and find my way back, meanwhile driving literally down memory lane as I followed a route I took for years to have cello lessons. A little different,but not much.
As hordes headed out of town for thanksgiving, the queues grew and Mhairi took three hours to get here. A thirty mile drive.
Peace, Jesus says. I didn't see anything yesterday that looked just right for mom. Peace, Jesus says. He knows what is right for her. Like Scarlett OHara, I'll think about it tomorrow.
Continuing to feel thankful for everything, praising God that my stiffness is abating and I am fine. Thankful to be here with Mom, here with Mhairi. Thankful for my praying friends and family.

Angels in our midst

Angels in our midst.
We sat in Shirley's living room as I returned the things I rescued from her bashed car. I described the accident. She sat close to her ailing husband in his wheelchair, massaging his cold hand, gentle and full of grace and love. She was just relieved there were no serious injuries. A car is a car.
One of the young men who was a passenger in the car that struck mine, a Muslim engineering student from Saudi Arabia, said the same thing as we stood beside the busy highway Sunday night.
So many kind messages received, all voicing the same thing, many of them accompanied by prayers.
We walk through tough times but are surrounded by angels on the ground as well as those who are invisible.
God is good. Without much delay, he provided a replacement rental car from the hotel next door, so today I can go forth again, more cautious and a little fearful, to check out future possibilities for Mom. Shoulders and neck slightly aching, but heart so full of gratitude.
This is the day the Lord has made and I rejoice in him.
Thank you. The theme of this thanksgiving week. From the heart.

Wham

Unexpected turns and nosedives.
Another pleasant reunion in another beauty spot on the other extremity of LA, perilously near the wildfires but so far unaffected directly. A fond farewell and heading south when out of nowhere, an SUV broadsided me.
In a moment, from the secure cocoon of a borrowed car into the cool night air.
Tow trucks. A dear daughter coming to my rescue.
God is good. All the time. So grateful to have escaped without injury.
Thanksgiving week indeed.

Hallowed be thy name

Our Father. Who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name.
He invited us to lunch, invitations coming through our dear sister in the Lord, in a setting as near to heaven as one encounters on earth. Three arch bay, sharp jagged rocks thrusting skyward from the ocean bed, waves crashing, tides returning, fine sand hot underfoot.
We sat at a table, beautifully laid with love, and ate salad and sparkling water and pumpkin dessert, lovingly made by caring hands.
We sat down, some as strangers to each other, one or two linkings fashioning the whole. The synergy of the new relationships. The joy of exploring Jesus in our midst. The ineffable beauty of prayer together as we listened and shared from the heart.
We stood up again, dried our faces, laughed and hugged, hugged and laughed. This is thanksgiving week, and we embarked on it in a beautiful way.
Hallowed be thy name. Thank you Jesus for the oasis. Bless your holy name.

Caravan

A world on the move. A caravan.
People so terrified they walk away from home carrying only what they can bear. A small backpack. A tote bag. A child.
An old person.
The things of this world weigh us down. The big wardrobe, the closet full of shoes. The extra coats and wine glasses.
Everything can go, jettisoned on the journey, except loved ones. We are walking each other home, through harsh terrain sometimes, carrying the weak and the weary. Being carried, sometimes on a chassis of prayer.
Praise God we are not headed towards a border where a welcoming committee of heavily armed soldiers awaits us. I pray for those who are on that perilous path right now, pray for peace, for kindness and compassion to drive out fear.
Don't let your hearts be troubled, Jesus said. Trust in me. He awaits us all with open arms. He's got our rooms ready for us, and we don't need to bring anything but ourselves.
Praise God.

Eyes Up

Hiking in the Pyrenees with Don last May, the terrain on one side sloped away steeply to the stream at the bottom. We realised it was beautiful there, but we couldn't look as we had to keep alert to the path to avoid an accident.
Alert to the path to avoid an accident. It is hard to keep a focus on the promises of a bright future in God while navigating some of the challenging points of the path through life. Just at a time when keeping focus on Jesus is critical, we feel insecure about taking steps forward unless we are really focused in on the path. It's a dilemma, and a challenge.
Choices to make for my Mom, on a path she would never have chosen, one she often said she didn't want to be on in the future. Memory loss is heartbreaking. It erases confidence and personality as the sufferer struggles to grip on to who she is.
We are more than our memory. When her spirit is released from the grip of a deteriorating body and mind, she will be restored to who she was and much more.
Meanwhile, I need to take these next steps with focus on the horizon, trusting the Lord will keep my feet on the path. The darkest hour is just before dawn. And that Dawn is going to be breathtaking.

Be still

Be still, for the presence of the Lord, the holy one is here.
Living in community opens you to germs and bugs you might not meet if you lived in isolation. Close proximity and a buffet line are perfect for the proliferation of tummy bugs.
No fun.
Living in community, though, also opens you to contagious faith. As one person can share her love for the Lord, he can take it further.
Living in our world today, with the upheavals and demigods and wars and famines, opens us up to fear and despair.
Living in our world today, though, also opens us up to share our hope for the future based in Jesus' promises.
As I move towards recovery from the bugs which moved into me yesterday, may I express hope and be light in this bit of world today.
May you be, too.

New horizons

Horizons. Expanding. Contracting. Exciting.
I was going to write a negative emotion to describe contracting horizons, but no. Expanding horizons can be unsettling and confusing, offering endless possibilities and choice. Contracting, on the other hand, bring focus. Or should I say, can bring focus.
Busy lives distract from the important. Lives winding down have few distractions and can in fact be the richest time of life.
Theoretical thoughts as I rub shoulders with many nonagenarians who share a residential facility with Mom. I know many continue to pursue distractions, be it television or whatever. Declining cognitive ability can impair focus too, and just create fog.
So important to squirrel away spiritual riches now, so that in the winter of life there is much to nourish the soul, whether or not the mind or body is able.

Silence

Silence in the near space. Sounds of traffic beyond the windows of this flat. Touches with my past surround me, bringing a smile, bringing an ache. Reunion with loved ones, so precious, so deep the love.
This is the day the Lord has made. He blesses moment by moment. He is in the silence. He is in the rush. He is in the past. He is in the future. But in peace I grasp his hand for he is in the now.
This is the day he has given me. I am full of joy and gratitude.

The Light shines in the darkness

The world sinks into sepia as November marches on. It is tempting to sink with it. But the crab apple tree boasts a myriad of vibrant red fruits, sharply contrasting with the dying colours all around. The last roses of summer still bloom. All is not sepia.

Up before dawn this morning (sounds more impressive than it is, given the short days), I noticed the bright morning star twinkling strong and steady.

The cliché is that it is always darkest just before dawn. Certainly, the morning star shone brightly out of the greying sky, reminding me of Jesus. The light has come into the world, and the darkness has neither overcome nor understood it. It’s time to protect our inner flames from the diet of poison in today’s atmosphere – be it the political, the environmental, or the social arenas.

It’s time to shine.

When the darkness closes in, when the conversation resonates fear and uncertainty, I’m going to remember that morning star, take a deep breath of the Spirit, and share hope. Jesus invites us to walk in the light, trusting that he has it covered; he knows the end from the beginning; he is good; he is love, and he is faithful.

This is a fitting month for thanksgiving.

Hard as Granite

Today I parked in a lot I don’t usually use in Aberdeen. It meant that I had the pleasure of walking past the beautiful Marischal college, reputedly the second-largest granite building in the world. It has had a face-wash in the last few years, and the apron in front has been paved and turned into a mostly-pedestrian only zone.

As I returned to my car, I paused to enjoy the beauty of this 19^th century building. Yes, grey granite, but glinting in the light, its intricate towers gleaming and beautiful.

I thank God for craftsmen and women who can transform hard stone into a thing of beauty.

I thank God for Jesus, who transforms hard hearts into soft, compassionate ones. Praying he works to soften hearts as Americans go to the polls tomorrow.

Slightly Wonky

I spent a happy Friday afternoon building a red car out of cake for grandson Gregor’s second birthday party. Following a guide on YouTube, I was attempting to copy what the instructor demonstrated.

The cake didn’t rise as well as hers did. Oh well, I thought, it can be a low-riding sports car. She recommended piping the frosting on, but then, she sounded like she was in sizzling Australia where the butter cream icing remains soft and pliable, not in a cold farmhouse in northeastern Scotland where it goes brick hard. I spread it and smoothed it with a knife dunked in boiling water. I discovered later that I should have rested the piping bags on the radiator – but then, it hadn’t been on yet when I was decorating the cake.

End result? A slightly wonky car with a flat tire. Did Greg notice? No, I think I got away with it…

Whatever you do, do it in love, Scripture advises. I may not utter the perfect prayer when in a group or meeting; I may not remember the name of the new girl coming in the church door but I can still smile a warm welcome; I am not perfect. Despite our apprehensions, it’s the love that others see, not the perfect offering. It’s the love that God sees.

My life might look a mess, slightly crooked and with a flat tire. But God sees my heart. I don’t have to be perfect before I come to him.