Forecast is Dire

Forecasts for today are dire. I open the curtains expecting a white-out, but it is bright sunshine and a clear sky. Nevertheless, we take a call from a man booked in for B&B, cancelling, because of the snow in the borders. Clearly, someone is getting bad weather but so far, apart from the bitter cold, it isn’t us.

Planning, preparation, precautions. Sensible approaches to life. I quite like to plan trips in broad outline form and allow for spontaneity to supply the details. 

God told Joshua to be strong and courageous, reminding him that He would be with him every step of the way. It takes courage to step out into the unknown, not fully prepared for every eventuality, but it is exhilarating to see God fill in the detail. 

May your days be exhilarating as you walk with Him. The forecast for such days is amazing.

Home

The wind wails slow and low through the inevitable gaps in windows and doors. Yes, back in Scotland. Behind me is the perfect weather of Southern California. The congested freeways confirm that many millions agree that the weather is perfect. But the congested freeways confirm to me that perfect weather is not enough.

And anyway, what is perfect weather? Though the wind wails a lonely sound, from my prayer window I see a lovely landscape. Now that the trees have dropped their leaves, the horizon has expanded. There are no wildfires spewing brown smoke into the air. Only clouds zipping in from the west, bringing, according to Don, snow by the weekend.

As we took off from LAX a couple of days ago, we headed west over the Pacific before turning back east. The plane was remarkably empty and I was blessed with three seats on which to lounge for the ten hour flight. So I slid over from the aisle to the window and admired the view of LA, which, with all its shortcomings, will always feel like home. Millions, billions of lights shimmered like divine gems against the dark sky. All the usual lights, plus the plethora of Christmas decorations proliferating in residential and business districts alike. Conflicted: I found the lights breathtaking, in spite of my deep concern that we reduce our detrimental footprint on the world and become more responsible caretakers of it.

Many prayers were answered as my flights were wonderful, and I made the short connection time in London, as did my bag. Greeted by my soul-mate in his unique green knitted tam, welcomed in with flowers and a roaring fire: it’s good to be home.

If home is where the heart is, mine shall always be wherever he is (inevitably Scotland!), as well as LA. But my real heart, and my real home, is in God, whose presence and guidance and comforting hugs were so evident over these last weeks, especially. And that home will never be marred with congested freeways nor wildfires out of control; neither will it be marked with howling northerly winds and the prospect of freezing temps and snow. When we move on into God’s dwelling, there will be no more tears or death or crying or pain or goodbyes, because he will have made everything new. And then, we will really be home.

This is the Day

Sunshine out the east-facing window; snowing out the north-facing window. Bit of blue sky out the south-facing window. 

Must be in Scotland.

Whitewashed drive, road and fields. Birds clustering on the peanut feeders, hopping along the ground. Dependent on our taking the time to fill the feeders.

Rhythm of seasons. Rhythm of life. 

One day is highly stressed for one person. The same day is earmarked for meeting friends and relaxing for another. Some people are working hard. Others are up at the Lecht snowboarding or skiing. 

This is the day the Lord has made. We may not have the freedom to decide how to spend it (if we are in work or raising young ones) but we all have the freedom to decide how we will embrace all that comes our way today. 

In John 9, as Jesus walked along he saw a man. There were probably lots of people around but we are told he saw a man. Then we are told he was a man born blind. Jesus sees the individual. He sees to the heart of who we are rather than focusing on the problems we may be grappling with. He asks what we want help with and is ready to act when we tell him.

This is the day the Lord has made. I choose to be glad and rejoice in it, and be honest with God about my needs, and trust him to help me.

Speak Jesus

All winter long, the dead stalks and flower heads have draped themselves across the flower beds and I’ve not even noticed them. I continued to nurse my back and shoulder and feared further damage if I did much of anything.

The incentive to throw caution to the wind came last weekend when we were needed to prepare the walls and woodwork in one son’s new flat. They’ve been under pressure. They needed a hand. I didn’t hesitate but stretched and bent, pushed and pulled, climbed up and down ladders and knelt on bended knee for four days.

Delighted then to find that neither back nor shoulder felt any the worse after the efforts. Perhaps the Pilates is paying off. 

So today, as most of the UK is buried to its knees in the white stuff, the northeast corner of Scotland has green fields and clear skies and the sun was out. So despite the temp being below freezing, I spent an hour making a start on clearing some of the autumn debris. 

I hadn’t noticed it, as I said. Or rather, I’d noticed it but it hadn’t bothered me because I felt helpless to do anything about it.

I suspect that’s a convenient excuse for spiritual laziness in me. That although I notice my spiritual antennae are dulled because of an overgrowth of dead attitudes, I ignore the mess because I just don’t feel up to it. I ask my heavenly father to help me to hear, help me to listen, when in fact I need to make a bit of effort myself. 

I need to immerse myself more in His Word so that I recognise his voice when he speaks. I need to spend quiet time just sitting and listening, meditating, so that when he does speak I am listening. 

I am struggling to learn Russian at the moment. A new alphabet, never mind a new vocabulary and words with awkward sounds. Poco a poco my dad used to advise. My goal is to spend some time each day studying so that it begins to become familiar and I can recognise the words and actually make the sounds.

My sheep know my voice, Jesus said. His followers recognise his voice. They did then; they do now. And then they speak his language. That’s my goal for 2015. To speak Russian. And to speak Jesus.

Patience

Snow in the morning. Sun sporadically throughout the day. I’m told that the warmer temperatures in the arctic regions have caused the jet stream to sink lower than usual, globally speaking, thus allowing these icy winter winds to carry on. And on. And on.

We’re all longing for that jet stream to shift upwards, protecting us from the frigid blasts and allowing the warm air from the south to move in. 

We can’t do anything about it, but wait.

We went to a dinner party the other night where we got more than we expected. Just about everyone there was exposed to a virulent virus which is nasty and tenacious and has laid us all out for days on end. 

We can complain. Drink weak tea and eat homemade chicken soup made by a dear friend. 

We can’t do anything more than that. Just wait.

What comes out of situations like these? Greater empathy for those who suffer long-term. Hopefully, more patience. One of the virtues God admires. 

Well, as I go to curl up again by the fire and try to keep my lunch down, I pray that the Lord will give me patience and a special word during this time. May my ears be more attentive to his voice, as I rest and recover.