I lift my eyes

The dampness clamped right down to the ground. A watery sun suggested itself beyond the mist, hints of better things to come.

Meanwhile, we shivered as we walked, admiring the beauty of spider webs stretching between spiny thorns on the gorse lining the road. Starlings lined up on the overhead wires or swooped in synchronised exactitude above the harvested fields. Cows occasionally broke the stillness with their autumnal braying. What’s that all about?

Beneath our feet, leaves mouldered in soggy piles or shrivelled in crispy isolation. Pine cones brought down by Saturday’s wind sprinkled across the tarmac.

The nights are drawing in. A light frost shimmered on the grass yesterday morning. Autumn is here.

When engaged in unpleasant tasks, I find it so helpful to focus on the glories of this beautiful world God has given us to live in. I am so grateful to live in peace. So grateful to have friendly neighbours. So grateful for loving family, the NHS, good health, abundant food, flowers in a vase in front of me.

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help is in the name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. Praise him.

Squashed or saved?

I saved the worst until nearing the end of our redecorating. Today, I donned rubber gloves and cautiously opened the attic door. Nothing scurried away, but draped from the ceiling, across the coat rail, round the light bulb, was a gossamer matting woven over years.

Who knew spider webs could be tough enough to resist the pull of a Dyson? Gingerly, I lifted out a couple of old coats, matted with cobwebs. Suddenly they were alive as the eight-legged beasts who spun such traps scrambled to escape. I’m sorry … mmm, no, not really. First instinct. Squash them. 

And squash them I did. Three or four, though undoubtedly, lurking in pockets or down dark sleeves, there remain one, two or even a few more.

God didn’t don rubber gloves when he came to deal with us. He came as a baby, vulnerable and naked. The webs of deceit we weave, strong as we think they are, disappear in the puff of his breath. Fearful of his wrath, running to hide from his almighty power, we are instead overtaken by the power of his love, drawing us inexorably into his loving embrace.

I deserve to be squashed, but instead, I stand redeemed by his life. Amazing grace.

Perils and Webs

I was up before the sun this morning, poaching up some eggs, so had the joy of watching dawn break, frosty and clear. A perfect autumn morning with trees just beginning to array themselves in their fall colours and the frosty dew picking out the spider webs – everywhere.

Took a dogless walk (how I still miss Dusty!) and admired the translucent, soft, lacy webs linking thorns on the gorse, draping curtains on the broom, and positively blanketing the hay rolls. I wished I’d taken a camera because the webs covering the hay did, honestly, look like a thick and cosy blanket.

So, I thought, remembering the spider I squashed yesterday, here I am admiring the fancy footwork of said species. Well, the thing is, a place for everything and everything in its place. As long as the arachnids dwell outside and spin their intricate death-traps in the bushes, I am full of admiration. I just don’t appreciate them sharing my space.

Yes, so that was another thought. These normally invisible death-traps are revealed when the temps plummet and the dew falls. Do the hapless insects who are the usual victims enjoy a respite for a few hours, able to see the danger before they are in it? 

The world is full of hidden dangers. We are often hapless victims, becoming trapped and entangled before we are even aware of the danger. Thinking of so many folks who find themselves addicted to a substance having experimented just once or twice. Others who find themselves dead because of such substances – programme on ‘legal highs’ last week.

Praying this morning that God will keep my eyes open and able to perceive the pitfalls around me. I need help on this – one pair of eyes is not enough. I need the supernatural kind to discern the real perils littering my road. 

So do you.