Captured

I captured a picture from the prayer window last night. The sunset streaked the sky with rosy pinks and purples. The yellow daffodils dotted the foreground. The larch, beginning to hint at green buds coming, towered in the middle.

Only just now, looking at it, I realise I didn’t capture it at all. It was much more beautiful in ‘real time’.  A reminder to live in the moment and not succumb to the frenzy to capture every moment digitally. It can’t be done.

Blooming beautiful

Taking a little time, making the effort, binding up the wounds and refreshing one another. That’s what walking each other home is all about.

We took a little time with this wounded amaryllis. Found a suitable support to provide the strength that had been lost in the accident. And now look at it. Not just the one bloom, but two beautiful flowers trumpeting spring.

Whatever you did for the least of these...Jesus wasn’t talking about battered flowers but about battered lives. We are called to come alongside, extend a helping hand, a shoulder, advice, money, love, friendship, whatever is needed for however long.

Life is all about walking each other home. A privilege and a joy, especially as we see others bloom as they were meant to, giving fragrance and beauty to this life.

Beyond the Pane...

When I got up this morning I commented on what a dark, stormy day it looked. An hour later, sitting in the prayer window, all had changed. The sun was out – and still is. The wind has dropped. 

Looking at the view, though, I was very aware of the pretend panes formed in the glass by strips of white plastic between the double glazing. I was aware of the water spots and dirt on the outside of the window. I was distracted from seeing the view.

Sometimes things get in the way and it’s hard to appreciate that life is beautiful. A change of focus is needed (and a window cleaner...) 

I lift my eyes to the hills – my help is in the name of the Lord. That psalm is a family favourite since the time of my grandfather, who I never knew but who I remember when I think of or read the psalm (121). I’m grateful for that connection to him.

Looking beyond the plastic strips and the dirty spots, I see a future where the sun will always shine and there will be no more distractions, big or small, to prevent us enjoying and worshiping the Lord. And being with those we love.

Camouflage

I can see you!

You might think it’s all decaying but in fact there are beautiful things camouflaged. Look harder.

January Joy

Empty house. No happy laughter emanating from any of the spare bedrooms. No raucous games being played beside a roaring fire. No cars coming and going up the drive. 

The fridge is emptying as we two continue to eat our way through left-overs. May be finished today; if not, certainly by tomorrow.

Not so the many cookies, so I happily gave a box to the teenagers I saw today at their Bible study. And the chocolate drawer is pleasantly full. That doesn’t go bad if we pace ourselves on it.

The party’s over. The tree is down. The boxes are packed for the attic. The Christmas cards are waiting in baskets for rereading and praying over during the year to come. 

Yes, a sense of flatness. A temptation to pronounce negative comments about January. But on the other hand...

...I had time to sit and think, read my Bible, pray, without interruption today – however welcome those interruptions were, it is nice to sit in silence and peace. 

God makes everything beautiful in its time, and once again I notice that January can be beautiful in its starkness, in its austerity.

May yours be beautiful.

Even January can be Beautiful

Cookie jars are emptying as are the bedrooms. The Christmas tree is drooping and dropping, as are Don and I. Dishwasher and washing machine hum away nonstop. My humming seems a little throaty this morning.

The party’s over. The tearful goodbyes have begun and are halfway through. It was fun while it lasted but now it’s January. The month of many bills. Nothing to do with Christmas over-spending. Everything to do with various insurances and taxes and so on.

God makes everything beautiful in its time. That’s the Biblical promise, so even a January like we are facing is beautiful through his eyes.

Deep breath. Engage my core. Eyes on Jesus. All is well.

Buxom Beauty

Be Real!

One of my friends often exclaims, ‘Get real!’ or ‘Be real!’ when she feels something is being glossed over or denied. 

This is a question of identity. To be real is to be true to yourself, and it is so easy to get muddled about who you really are. You may feel like one person with your parents, another with your kids, another with friends or colleagues or spouse. But you aren’t many people. You are one person, a solid identity, and the rest of the forms are just facades or imitations of who you may think you are expected to be.

As a Christian, my identity is in Christ, who made me unique. He is the one I am living to, and the one I am living from. He has given me gifts which only I can exercise in my own inimitable way, but if I am constantly readjusting who I feel I ought to be then I am unlikely to be true to the person he made me to be. 

I’m not much of a psychologist and I get impatient with trying to be too psychoanalytical, so for me, it’s all about prayer. I need to just keep praying that God will break off, or prune, those parts of ‘me’ which are not really ‘me’, and that he will facilitate and encourage the growth of those unique parts of me which he yearns to see flower. Each of us has a unique fragrance to bring into this world, the fragrance of Jesus mingled with the fragrance of who we are in Jesus. 

This is a lifetime’s work for me, anyway. I want to live true to myself and true to who Christ made me to be. I want to exercise gifts which reveal the love of the Lord Jesus who lives in me. 

We had some ferocious winds a couple of weeks ago. They ‘burned’ some of the beautiful roses which were opening and even forced some not to open at all, but to remain tightly closed until they finally grew black and withered. I don’t want to allow the winds of experiences, the winds of fears of what others think, the winds of others' expectations of me, or the winds of doubt to freeze the bud I am and prevent me from opening out into the fragrant rose God made me to be. 

The roses I’m referring to are a strain called ‘Buxom Beauty’ because they are so voluptuously large and intoxicatingly fragrant. I want my spirit to be a full-blown buxom beauty, voluptuously large and intoxicatingly fragrant with the perfume of my Lord and King Jesus. 

Don’t you?