Family Trees

 

I’ve never been one to leap off the high dive into the postage stamp pool far below. I’m the one who creeps into the pool from the edge, wincing with the shock of cold until I recognise it’s best to just launch off the side and fully immerse.

So it’s uncharacteristic for me to have dived into the ancestry glory hole, but I’m eager to find out a bit more about the line stretching back through my German great-grandparents. I’ve suggested a reccy trip to Hamburg in March and can’t progress that until I am sure that there are nuggets of information to be gleaned from such a foray. I’ve given myself a week to make that decision.

I’m finding it both fun and frustrating as I flounder on the website I’ve chosen to join.

Jesus knew his roots. He didn’t dwell in them, but they possibly served as a launchpad confirming his human credentials which set him apart as someone very special. I am so grateful that spiritually I am grafted into his family tree, and in his eyes, I am someone very special.  How amazing is that?

My own tree is pretty full of detail on three of the branches, stretching back centuries. So many of the people there, though, are just names to me.

None of us is just a name to Jesus. He created each of us in our mothers’ wombs and he knows our thoughts and what we are going to say before we even say it. How amazing is that?!

It’s really the only family tree I am passionate about being on!!

In You

 

Monday and the morning is nearly gone. Our walk was cut short by a slippery stretch of ice which Mary and I decided not to risk. Home earlier than usual, I lingered in the prayer window, thinking about the relationship between faith and work. Scripture says the work of God is to believe in the one he sent: does that imply that faith is hard work? If so, what does that work look like?

I’m unsettled about the arrangements for an important appointment my Mom has tomorrow, as there are problems associated with getting her there. I’ve got a loose plan for the week but already I’m onto a different road map as I tried to reset a p/w for something in the US and I apparently have to call now. I’ve got other admin stuff to do for myself and some pieces of writing due. There’s the genealogy and my hesitancy about joining a website that charges, in case I suddenly have no time to spend on it.

Monday. As I offer up the pot luck of things I am trying to do, Lord, help me to trust that you have them all in hand. Help me to trust and move forward, confident that in you all will be well.

The 'hood

 

I wonder, can I refer to my rural location as ‘the ‘hood’? I guess it’s my ‘hood, so why not, even if there are more feathered inhabitants than human.

As Mary and I stepped carefully along the slippery road this morning, we saw another resident of our ‘hood approaching. Belinda held the lead of ‘Robert’, a young lurcher who they were thinking of rehoming. As we approached, I spoke a welcome to Robert, who growled quietly. I didn’t hear malice in the growl, just uncertainty, maybe, or nervousness.

He’s too skittish, too strong and too big for us, Belinda said. We can’t really handle him so he has to go back, hopefully to a younger family who have the energy and strength.

I fully understand. One must be wise in choices as our own strengths wane. But Mary’s heart melted, and I felt bad, for poor, homeless Robert. Rejected for his size, his strength, and his unpredictability.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the unconditional love of God. Despite our own ‘thrawn-ness’, he loves us. Despite our own determination to do it our own way, he loves us. Despite our critical attitudes, our selfish desires, and our harsh words, he loves us.

He won’t reject any of us who come to him in faith – however weak – and hope – however wavering.

My hope and my strength is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. In Jesus, we are all united, whatever ‘hood we inhabit. As I thought of our dear ones in Brisbane, and my beloved Mom in Los Angeles, and us here in Scotland, I thought of the perimeter support of a big top tent extending right round the world to all three regions. The canopy then is drawn up into a central point, creating a protective roof.

Jesus is the central point uniting us all. His arms extend loving protection over us all. Praise Him that no matter where we are, we are all connected, all related through Him.

Scam?

 

Sleepily, I opened the emails on my phone this morning. From a trusted relative, the subject of his email was ‘scammed attachment’. Alarmed, I didn’t open it, wondering why he would send me something so obviously malicious! When I put on my reading glasses and opened my emails on my laptop later, of course the subject read ‘scanned attachment’. Whew.

I congratulate myself that my eyes are clear enough that I can still read just fine without my glasses. But who am I kidding?

And so with life in general. I remember being taught about putting on ‘Holy Spirit specs’ way back in the day. Without those HS Specs, I don’t see very clearly. I think I understand things but I can be way off track.

Lord, remind me every day, moment by moment, to ponder things in my heart, through the understanding and guidance of Holy Spirit. Keep me from the arrogance of assuming I can see clearly on my own.

Seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly before your God. May that be my motto every day.

Connections through the years

 

Connections. I’ve started prepping for a possible quick trip to Germany in March. I have a friend who lives there and has offered to translate as I hope to research our Steenbock forbears.

Last night I got lost in the pages of a 1920 census in Nebraska. I didn’t find anyone I was looking for, and scanning a myriad of names scrawled in various levels of penmanship was wearing.

Other family members have done amazing jobs of tracing my mother’s ancestors right back to the 16^th century, and my father’s mother’s ancestors back to the 15^th century. But the Steenbock line starts in 1892 when they boarded the ship in Hamburg.

I found myself wondering last night why I was doing this. Does it matter? Does anyone else really have an interest in this? But when I reflect that each of those names represents someone God knows intimately, and knew from the womb, I am blown away. To me they are names: to God they are precious individuals with gifts and personalities and hopes and dreams, now moved on from this world into the next.

Connections. The opening chapters of Mark and Luke detail Jesus’ ancestral line. Connections matter to God. Who knows but that I am a Christian today because of the prayers of one of these names on the pages? I pray for my grandchildren and on down the years, that they will know the living God and worship Jesus the Saviour.

 

Open Invitation

 

It’s a fanciful fairytale castle – maybe the kind from which Rapunzel escaped. Don bought it before I met him so it’s been in our home now for nearly half a century! The bar holding the door snapped years ago and languishes in the pile of things needing fixed, so the invitation is always there: come in.

Volodomyr came in for a coffee this morning after seeing his kids off on the Crathes school transport. We spoke of important things and unimportant things. We shared hopes and fears and moments. We laughed. We were sad.

My To-Do list sat at my new workstation as I indulged the To-Be call.

Mary has made the better choice, Jesus told Martha as she begged him to intervene and tell her sister to get up and do things to help. Better to sit at my feet, he said.

Today may I make the better choice. May my door always resemble the door to the castle, open and, hopefully, inviting. May God take care of the things on the To-Do list which then just don’t get done.

New year, new view

 

New year, new work station. Out of the window in front of me, two shrubs nestle close to the house. One waves in the wind, its flat green leaves shiny despite the freezing temps. The other stands stiffly, bare brown branches and twigs also moving but with less grace and fluidity.

Both bushes are alive, but one is in hibernation while the other is sturdy enough to withstand winter. Both will revive in the warmth of spring sunshine in a couple of months’ time.

The winds of life buffet us all. Sometimes we retreat into survival mode, shedding our ‘leaves’ in an attempt to reduce our vulnerability, reducing our interactions. Sometimes we remain resilient, anchored and sustained, strong to serve and engage.

Both reactions are valid in the Kingdom of God, where there are no production targets, no homework papers to hand in. The operative infinitive in God’s kingdom is ‘to be’, not ‘to do’.

I Am There

 

The canopy under which we sit is an unbroken steely grey. The wild wind of last night has gentled a bit, though flecks of sleet still dance and fly and splat on the prayer window.

This morning we watched the Crathes School minibus come to pick up the two children staying in the flat. Deja-vu. How many years did we watch expectantly for the school transport to pick up our own children? Same kind head teacher there, extending a warm welcome to these two wee ones uprooted from their own country, striving to learn a new language and make friends. We heard they are happy. Praise God.

In the bleak midwinter, God says, I am there. I never leave you nor forsake you. I am there.

Like the snow plough/gritter which has swept down the road already, God goes before us, spreading grit to help us keep our feet, spreading salt to melt the ice, preparing the way. May our dear ones now settling in Down Under know his presence. Though the last thing they need is a de-icer, may they be blessed by the refreshing wind of the Spirit today as they navigate and establish a new life.

In the bleak midwinter, God says, in the blazing summer, I am there. I never leave you nor forsake you. I am there.

Soar!

 

The red kite soared out from the canopy of trees, tilting her wings first one way, then the next, rising on the capricious waves of air, surfing the wind. Apparently effortlessly, she scoured the field below, looking for breakfast.

Today may I soar, riding on the wind of the Spirit. The Spirit blows where she will, and I am invited to surf her waves and rise effortlessly as I trust Jesus, my Saviour, my friend, my provider.

Paul wrote to the Romans, ‘We are convinced that every detail of our lives is continually woven together for good, for we are his lovers who have been called to fulfil his designed purpose.’ (The Passion Translation) It is so encouraging and comforting to know that God has this new season for Doug and Joey, Flick and Greg. That he has every detail taken care of, and that the next season will be one of fruitfulness, fulfilment and joy as they walk in his will and respond to his guidance.

May we all soar into this new year, riding on the winds of the Spirit, trusting that underneath are the everlasting arms.

Tax Season

 

Tax season. Time to start gathering financial details for the US accountant. For Mom. For me. Time to draw a line under last year’s earnings and expenditures. Time, then, to move forward into a new season.

It’s an annual grind. It can hang over me like the low-lying cloud over the Hill of Fare this morning. Cold. Bone-chilling.

Kind of fitting that the US accountant’s email arrives in our last few days before waving off Doug and Joey, Flick and Greg, to their new lives down under. That too hangs over me like a low-lying cloud. Cold. Bone-chilling. Heart-breaking.

‘Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows’. Where would I be without the One who never leaves me? Where would I be without his solace and comfort?

Thank you, Jesus, that in the midst of the messiness of this world, you walk with us and bring us peace. Thank you that you are not a disinterested tax accountant, just doing the computations to see if we have paid our dues and are good enough to spend eternity with you. Thank you that you have settled the bill for us, and haven’t then moved on, but instead stick with us as we navigate the highs and lows of our lives on earth. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.

 

Never Rains

 

It never rains in southern California, Albert Hammond crooned in the early 70s. Tell that to those who have just spent two weeks holidaying there, dashing out between rain showers and being saturated by downpours.

People make their plans, but the Lord determines their steps. There are so many things outwith our control: that’s a lesson I really took on board during the pandemic, and I suppose it is a bass line to every plan I create these days. There is an uncertainty in life which has revealed itself in all its stark harshness over these past few years.

So the sun is shining today. True, there is a bite in the wind, but I will focus on the sun today. As I look into the calendar of the upcoming year, I am beginning to make loose plans, but with an awareness that these may alter with circumstances.

May God give us all the gift of planning for the future while fully embracing the moment. May he bless us with hope and expectation of good things, and enable us to share the load of unspoken fears with him. ‘For my yoke is easy,’ Jesus promises, ‘and my burden is light.’

Above the Clouds

 

A grey blanket lies heavy on the treetops this morning and the clouds seep dampness below. There is no apparent break in the cloud cover, no hint that above the clouds, the sun blazes as brightly as ever.

January can be a month of seamless grey. It is a month of admin tedium here: different insurances to look at and choose, tax figures to begin gathering in. The Christmas decorations are in the boxes, returned to the attic spaces. Loved ones are preparing to go: this year, further and more permanently than ever.

When I can’t change circumstances, I seek solace and contentment in Jesus. He is always above the cloud cover. His arms are always embracing me, his embrace shielding me, him: the rock on which I stand. His perspective is the one I seek, and I can trust that the light shines in the darkness, and in the gloom, and that light shines brightest in the darkest night.

Praise Him.

Life is a Gift

 

First walk of 2023 with Mary. A glistening morning with a sharp frost but a full sun. Beautiful.

A tiny songbird lay dead on the road, her little body frozen. Mary tenderly laid her under the long grass on the verge, so her perfect body would not be squashed by the tractors and vans, cars and bicycles.

Life is such a gift. Whatever this day holds, I am grateful for the bounty but mostly, grateful for the basic: the miraculous gift of life.

I came so you might have life to the full, Jesus declares. Help me to embrace that today, Lord, and to learn exactly what that means in this moment, in this month, in this year.

Peace

 

Peace. Possibility. Promise.

It’s a new year, but it isn’t a new world. Yet.

The strife is not over. The suffering goes on. Confusion, anxiety, fear. And in the midst, opportunity. Opportunity to carry the light into the dark spaces. To be the peace in the tumult. To offer hope in despair.

Lord, we are all weary. Strengthen us with your Holy Spirit as we enter this new year, that we would walk with resolution and assurance, that we would smile with confidence in the Lord who saves, that we would share our faith through word and action.

Help me to double down on prayer, Lord, for therein lies the power. As I peer into the darkness, may fears disappear as faith deepens.

May we all walk into 2023 with confidence in the Lord who loves the lost, and may we show that love through all we do and say, in our world and in our homes.

Would you like to ... ?

 

‘Would you like to paint with me, Gramma?’ Flick asked.

I tossed the dishrag into the sink and joined her at the table. She commented that it was nice I didn’t have anything to do and could paint doilies with her. I explained that I always have loads of things to do, but it’s a matter of assessing which is the priority.

Today, at that moment, she was the priority.

I’m not always that good at assessing priorities. There have been days over this Christmas period when I have gulped a moment or two of quiet time, or missed out altogether – distracted by visitors I love and who are high up on the priority list.

But I remember that God has declared that he should have our first priority.

I fall down on this one pretty often. So I open the new year 2023 with a heartfelt ‘sorry’ to the Lord and Saviour whose birth we have just celebrated. I am so grateful for the gift of Jesus. I am also so grateful for the gift of family.

May God bless us all with a clearer sense of priorities in 2023. May his peace fill us all, despite any storms that are raging. May his joy fill our souls despite the sorrows we are or will experience. May his love direct our actions and words.