A Walk in the Park

Flick and I took a walk to the park today. It took us nearly two hours from start to finish. If I’d put her in the pushchair, we’d have been at the swings in ten minutes, had some fun there and returned home in another ten minutes. We left the pushchair in the closet, though, and walked.

We never made it to the swings today. Oh, there were too many other wonders! Children on scooters to stop and watch. Children throwing sticks into puddles to be mimicked, with great glee. Baby doll in the stroller to be pushed forward with a joyful cry of ‘GO!’ followed by hilarity as she chased after the stroller. (Don’t want to encourage that when the real baby arrives!)

There was a loquacious old man to linger with. Brick edgings to be balanced on and iron railings to be used as baby gymnastic apparatus. Colourful flowers to be smelled. Long grass with which to tickle others. There were old ladies with dogs on leads to be marvelled at, from the safety of Gramma’s arms. There were planes and helicopters in the sky, pigeons and seagulls and crows in the trees, ducks in the water. 

The weather wasn’t summery but that drew no complaints from Flick. She only had eyes for the amazing surroundings.

The world through the eyes of a child is a marvellous place, full of beauty and fun. What a blessing to have the opportunity to refocus my eyes yet again, and give all the glory to our gracious Lord. I am full of gratitude for the opportunities to spend time with this beautiful wee soul.

Burnt Bacon

The bacon was spluttering in the grill as Francey scrolled lazily through his library of pictures of moths, taken earlier in the morning.

Moths. ‘We don’t like moths,’ I stated flatly, thinking of the carpet moths which have denuded a corner of the living room carpet.

Then he zoomed in. ‘This one was on your front door.’

It was breathtakingly beautiful. Lacy. Delicate. Lovely shade of translucent green. (I’m sorry I didn’t get him to email me the picture. Maybe I can capture one myself... a picture, that is!)

The guests, from Dublin, said they’d never seen as many moths as they’ve seen while staying here with us. One was camouflaged well on the stone dyke. Another lay immobile on a leaf. One had the shape of a stealth bomber. The variety was incredible.

How is it that we have been so blind to the beauty all around us, dismissing moths as those voracious white insects laying their larvae in our wools? 

‘I do like butterflies,’ I said lamely. And then was told that the French for butterflies is papillon, while their word for moths is papillon de nuit. Suddenly they sound lovely.

I can see I will become a mothophile. Didn’t God make us a beautiful world in which to live?

(Yes, the bacon would have burnt had Don not been out there to turn it.)

Be refreshed

I lift my eyes to the hills, the psalmist writes. Looking up at the hills or the mountains changes my perspective. The tendency is to look down, to focus in on my own footsteps through each day, and these become all important and all consuming. When I look up, and see the vista God has arranged, layers of responsibility are shed as I recognise my own insignificance and rejoice in the Big Picture.

With the world in the mess it is just now, threats and violence commonplace, it is easy to keep my head down and my focus on such things. When I lift my eyes to the hills, to the heavens – when I shift my gaze from the chaos to the peace of God, my soul is restored and refreshed. 

I don’t get it. The world is full of violence and misery, of injustice and pain, and yet we have a great God, a loving God who created a beautiful world and who is all powerful. There is a paradox which I accept: a loving God, all powerful, who does not fix the misery but allows it to continue. I explain it by recognising that this loving God has granted us free will, so that we will choose to love him and not love him out of duress. Loving him brings with it the concomitants of peace and joy and hope, so what’s not to love? 

Perversely, rebellion tempts us at every turn and with rebellion come disharmony and mayhem. So today, I lift my eyes to the hills and pause, breathing slowly and rhythmically, focusing on the God who loves us so much that he died for us. Such love. 

May you take time to pause today when things overwhelm, when temptations rise, when despair beckons. Lift your eyes and adjust your perspective. And be refreshed.