Stretching Shadows

 

The early-morning winter sun sits low on the horizon, its beams highlighting the frosty bushes and frozen earth with twinkling sparkles. It casts long shadows and as I walk, I become increasingly aware of my own shadow stretching forward, three times my height.

I stepped outside to walk, carrying with me the January blues: annual American tax admin to attend to for Mom and me, other financial admin that needs attention. God spoke to me from that shadow that loomed in front of me. The actual things which need attention are a fraction of the size I let them assume. When I just get down to it and do what I need to do, I discover it isn’t as onerous as I built it up to be.

How many of our anxieties and concerns loom larger than they are! The size and importance we allow them to assume can intimidate and stall us,  throwing us into the January blues.

So whatever shadow has swelled bigger than its reality, it’s just a misperception. I determine today to keep my concerns the size they really are, dwarfed by the love of God and the truth that he walks this frozen earth with me, loving, guiding and directing my steps. May I be more aware of His shadow accompanying me than I am of any shadow cast by the world’s demands or expectations.

Green

 

‘Isn’t it quiet?’ Mary remarked as we walked along the road. We stopped. Silence.

‘It won’t be like this if the windfarm gets approval,’ I replied, gesturing towards the Hill of Fare, a mile away. A supporter of the desperate need to move forward with green energy production, I oppose this particular wind farm on so many fronts: the hill contains radioactive elements which could damage health if disturbed; there is no infrastructure in place to take the generated power south, where the developer would eventually sell it on to consumers in England and the continent, so the energy will be generated without an outlet; outstanding natural wildlife habitat and recreational areas will be ruined; local roads will require strengthening and widening to carry the giant turbines during construction, and so on. Noise and flash irritation are real, but not the main reasons for my objecting. (www.naefare.com/object-now for more information)

We walked on, pausing again to listen to a birdsong we couldn’t identify and didn’t think we had heard before. It was beautiful. Will we hear it again?

We passed the logged wood, harvested after Storm Arwen devastated it. A visitor once took me on a walk round those woods, many years ago, and identified the songs of 35 species of bird. Thirty-five. Now there is only silence. Their habitat has gone.

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. I am lamenting this morning as I think of the selfish way we live, not husbanding this beautiful planet but just destroying it for our own pleasure, our own gain.

Lord, give us wisdom and grace that we might find ways to live in harmony with the natural world.

Every Cry

 

On the long drive back from Glasgow last night, I was serenaded by humpback whales.

It seems these amazing creatures love to sing. They sing more at night than they do during daylight hours, and they move closer into shore at night. Why? Research suggests that during the hours of darkness, other, smaller creatures which inhabit the deep also like to sing, and there is such a cacophony that the whales, preferring not to compete, move closer to the quieter shore.

Who knew?

In the spiritual realm, there must be a deafening cacophony of prayers rising to our loving Father, and it is so encouraging to know that we don’t have to find a quiet space or time in order for him to hear us. However loud the competition, Jesus hears every joyful whisper of gratitude and every agonised cry for help.

Better Choices

 

Wild, tempestuous winds swept across Scotland last night, bringing down power lines, roofing tiles and trees. This morning, the sky is clear and blue, a light breeze blusters the bare branches, but the gales overnight have calmed here in the northeast.

Life over the last month has been wonderfully wild as we made the most of Doug and Joey’s visit. It swept by so fast, and now we are gathering up the loose ends of the things we dropped.

Life is all about priorities. It’s hard to get them right, but when it comes to hanging with family v anything else, I know where my priority always is.

‘Mary has made the better choice,’ Jesus told Martha, as she bustled round doing all the chores. I’m often like Martha, but I know who I’d like to emulate.

Lord, help me to make the better choice today, choosing to hang with you and let some of the chores go. They’ll still be there tomorrow.

Untamed God

 

The empty bird feeders hang desolate, and the tree is devoid of the avian life that usually brings quiet joy to me as I watch. We’ve run out of wild bird peanuts, and not had time to refill the wild bird seed.

I don’t even see any birds coming to check the feeders. They seem to have given up and moved on.

Sometimes, I act as if the bountiful word of God has run out. I neglect my Bible. I scan a few verses reprinted in a devotional, without savouring them. I move on and go hungry, spiritually hungry.

This morning I lingered, asking God for a word to feed on through the day. Philippians 4:4-7. So familiar, but so rich in nourishment. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Trust. I thank you, Lord, for the bounty of your provision for me, provision in every way, on every level. I thank you for all those I love most dearly, and ask that you would meet each of them at their point of need today, filling them with your Spirit and stilling their anxious thoughts and feelings. I praise you for the Prince of Peace, who keeps hearts and minds safely tucked into himself.

Thank you that your food never runs out, never exceeds a best before date. I am reminded today that you are a wild, untamed God, and that your food may nourish me at an unexpected level. May I savour all you give me today.

Morning Broke White

 

Morning broke, white with frost, twigs and branches stiffly outlined with feathery ice. Shades of grey gave way to roses and pinks as the wintry sun poked above the eastern horizon.

I went out to empty the garbage into the compost bin, and was drawn further out into a short walk, in awe of the beauty of this world, of our Lord’s infinite creativity and delicate details.

I am a warm weather woman, but winter days like today carry a mantle of magic, sweeping me into a level of quiet contemplation and deep gratitude.

I’ve not been posting about life, because I’ve been living it in the fast lane, delighted to gather the 17 of us in our immediate family together for some amazing times of joy and laughter, good food and walks together.

It’s slightly quieter now, but we are still loving the visit from our Australian contingent. Living in the blessed moments while we have them here.

God is so good. My ‘word’ for the year is Trust. In every circumstance, I intend to remind myself that God is faithful. Whatever the challenges the year may hold, I can trust God to keep me safe in his loving embrace.

I know that it’s a work in progress, and I’m excited to see what his plans are for me this year.

May we all grow in faith and trust in 2024, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus.