Mayhem and Silence

 

Be still and know.

For a few days, the air bubbled with the joyful voices of children playing, laughing and whooping with delight. The sun shone; the leaves in their glorious array of autumnal beauty hung still. From the garage echoed the pounding of hammer on nail as one grandchild worked diligently to connect two sticks of wood together, for no other purpose except the joy of creating. In the green lane between buildings, other grandchildren rushed to gather slates and rocks and twigs and branches, to lay out a shop and find products to sell us. In the ‘orchard’, one granddaughter climbed the apple tree to pick remaining apples. Down the long drive, one grandchild pedalled the go-kart while another dad ran alongside a six-year-old, showing him how to ride a skateboard. Two others giggled and laughed and twisted and fell while trying to learn to roller skate. In the house, the baby granddaughter giggled and watched, alert to the busyness all around.

Today, six loads of washed sheets and towels later, (and very grateful for the gift of on-going dry and sunny days), I sit in the silence of my prayer window – after moving the binoculars from the seat, abandoned there by the grandson who so enjoys peering through them at the birds and trees.

I reflect on the goodness of God.

The fleeting visit of dear friends from Seattle, friends who shared life with us and raised our children together many years ago when they lived here – was the magnet drawing all our family living round Scotland back to the ‘hillock.

Happy reunions. Shared memories, poignant and joyful. Deep reflections on faith and justice and love. Somehow finding enough beds for 15 one night, 13 other nights.

Beside me, Don, revelling in the joy and sharing in the work. Actually, all the adults beside me over the days, cooking, clearing, cleaning, playing. Happy chatter. Memories.

And always in the mad melee, the shadow of absence, the vacant spaces where some are missing, some who live afar now, in America, in Australia. Some who have already moved into eternity.

The reminder, by their absence, of the wisdom of ‘Carpe Deum’ – seize the day. In this world, in these uncertain times, the future is not clear. We have this moment.

So, I try to live like Jesus, who, because of the joy awaiting him beyond the cross, was able to face the pain and loss of the cross with grace and peace and love.

Lord, help me to live light today, anticipating the eternal joy while embracing today’s joys and sorrows. Help me to focus my eyes on Jesus, so I can live life to the full, with all its inherent joys and sadnesses.

May my every inclination be ones of gratitude, thankful for your everlasting love, grace, mercy…and peace.