Scottish Spring

A soft tapping on the window. Tiny white balls bouncing off the bush. Hail. Now it’s turned to a light, windblown snow shower. Ah, springtime in north eastern Scotland.

I was 51^st at the grocery store at 8 am, so waited a minute or two until one person came out. A strict regulation of number of shoppers admitted at any one time. Everyone maintained their distance. Nobody coughed or sneezed. Everyone sanitised; some wore disposable gloves. Best behaviour.

Still no yeast. Shelves weren’t totally empty, but neither were they very full.

How surreal is this? Did anyone see this coming?

I certainly didn’t, but I know someone who did. So I’m sticking in close to him, so that I minimise my exposure and my risk, and yet remain available to help in any way I can. Really encouraged to be able to call on the team of volunteers from the West Church to pick up and deliver an urgent medicine to a former neighbour of ours who just moved into Banchory. Love in action through service. Thank you, Edge team, for stepping out and helping.

To God be the glory. May his name be lifted high through this turbulent time.

Bare brown branches

Bare brown branches, contorted, stretching upwards into the misty white sky, overlaid by a soft covering of white powdery snow. Twisted and exposed to the onslaught of winter; breath-takingly beautiful. Inspiring worship and awe.

I’ve just spent two hours with a beautiful, inspiring friend of mine who I see too rarely. She has suffered with rheumatoid arthritis for over twenty years without respite. One after another of her joints has seized up, disintegrated, been operated on or injected with steroids. Now her neck and a shoulder are collapsing, a knee and a foot need surgery. 

In spite of her own daily challenges, she has her octogenarian mother living with her – a mother whose focus is all on herself. 

Yet Jenny’s smile is radiant. Her laugh is genuine. I come away from being with her in awe of her resilience and generous spirit.

Walking Dusty in this amazing winter wonderland makes me think of Jenny, and praise to Jesus rises within me. There is something profoundly beautiful in the suffering. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but the quiet maturity of my friend who has learned patience and the secret to being content in all circumstances is awesome. 

To God be the glory, and now, may his mercy bring a healing springtime to my dear friend’s beleaguered body. Amen.