Worship

A cooling, lively breeze ushered the hot, stuffy air from the hotel room each night when we opened the balcony door. And so we slept, without cover, serenaded by a chorus of crickets and the occasional caterwauling of dozens of feral cats.

We never completely mastered the nuances of the Greek alphabet. That requires more than a week, for these brains anyway. Even remembering the words for Please and Thank You usually eluded me.

Foreigners, in a hotel of foreigners. Russians, Poles, Czech, German, French, British. Most there for one thing: the sun. If I noticed any signs of worship over this last week, it was a complete devotion to the blazing heat of the sun.

We are created by God to worship. May I worship the Creator this day, and not, through my actions and attention, reveal a devotion to the created.

Heralds of rain?

I remember an old wives’ tale that when cows lie down in a field, it’s going to rain. That’s a pretty safe bet these days, when we’ve had pounding rain for days on end! But this morning, the herd in the field I walked past got it wrong. Maybe they assumed it would rain because that has been the norm, but I see now they are up and grazing, with the sun, sometimes obscured by clouds I admit, shining on their backs.

We can get so accustomed to things going wrong that we begin to work on the assumption that they will. We lie down and give up. But life is full of twists and turns and changes, and ours is a God of creativity and surprises.

Today, despite Trump, despite Brexit morass, despite the many flash points globally, I am going to stay on my feet and look for the sunshine. It’s too easy to expect the rain.

A barb in the blessing?

Loving the sun. Bring it on! Blazing out of a clear blue sky, day after day, week after week, into our second month.

There was a flash of rain a couple weeks back. Overnight. All soaked up and gone, now. Well, we sprinkle the rasps and strawberries, lettuce and roses and tatties and kale, with water every day, a pleasant enough task given the ease of a hose connected to the mains, and no water shortage.

However.

On our walk this morning, Mary and I ran into the farmer. He and his son were considering the cattle in the field. The field of stunted grass which isn’t growing. He looked across at the field of silage, the field of silage which isn’t growing. And together they were wondering what to do.

Some farmers are taking the cattle indoors and buying in food to fatten them up quickly. Maybe, our farmer thought, maybe we’ll need to bring in some of the young ones and do that.

Is there a barb in every blessing?

Perhaps I should start praying for an overnight shower tonight…

A Scottish Scorcher

Another Scottish scorcher – a relative term I hasten to add before any Oz or US readers beg to differ. Blue skies and sunburning sun oh so welcome. We expected this in Spain, and got rain, which didn’t stay mainly on the plain but scattered wherever we were. We don’t expect this in Scotland. Family visiting from America keep being asked if they’ve brought the weather with them.

Expectations. We get used to things and begin to assume that there’s almost an unwritten law that this is the way it is. There is a peculiar Scottish assumption that there is a finite amount of good weather to which we may be entitled, and so we are hearing folk say, ‘I hope we don’t use it all up now and then have a lousy summer.’

God isn’t stingey with his gifts. He is lavish. Why not expect a lavish gift of heat for Scotland this summer? It happened in ’76!

Sunflowers

It’s as though the world has been wrapped in cling film (Saran wrap), as an unbroken film of cloud cossets the world beneath. Barley stands ripe in the field round us, awaiting the combine harvester. The cows seem to be corralled in the correct field this morning, so all’s well, and quiet, in this corner of the world.

Maybe today I’m hunkering down in ‘Time Out’. It’s been busy, and sometimes these old bones and joints let me know it’s been a bit busier than usual. So I have hopes today of spending some time writing. 

And the sunflowers? Aren’t they glorious? Our neighbouring farmer has grown a field of them again and to give him a plug – he’s selling them for 50p a bloom, from the farm. 

There is a connection between a time out, and sunflowers. Thinking of the way the sunflowers keep their happy faces turned towards the sun as it traces its path through the sky, today I plan to keep my face towards the Son in every job I have to do, and in every word I write.

Blessings.

Summertime

Summertime. Gathered in the sun, in the Son. Sharing cake; sharing concerns; sharing joys. United in heart; united in mind; united in Spirit. 

Some of us eventually had to find shade. Too much sun and we’d be burned. Too much Son: impossible. 

We were a small group, but the others were in our hearts. We were a small group, but the concerns and troubles of the others were on our lips. We were a small group, but the chatter was noisy and the laughter never far away.

Next time we’ll start a study encouraging us and teaching us how to listen more effectively to God. If we can’t hear him, how can we know him? Next time we’ll open our Bibles. Next time we probably won’t eat so much cake and scones – apologies to those who missed the feast this morning!

God is good. In rain and in sunshine, he is good. 

He is especially good in sunshine.

The Sun

The sun’s been out, and warm, so I’ve been out, and warm. I’ve managed to clear a couple of weedy flower beds and pull back the ‘finished’ wild sweet peas. Everything is looking tidier and less chaotic, though bare. Very bare.

Seasons of life seem to fluctuate between chaotic, and bare. Chaotic can be pretty, fragrant, and full of fun, sometimes edging towards the manic. Bare can be peaceful, contemplative, and quietly fulfilled. 

I need God’s reassuring peace in the chaos, and reassuring grace in the bare times.

Snowdrops!

The sun blazed out of a bright blue sky. I say blazed but actually there wasn’t a huge amount of heat in it ... but it was glorious nonetheless. Felicity and I headed for the park and joined the other preschoolers and grandparents on the seesaw and the swings. As we headed home, the path parallels the River Don and the detritus and mess left by recent flooding is strewn randomly around.

Through the mess, though, the snowdrops have emerged and now bob their delicate heads in the light breeze. The snowdrops don’t have strong stems nor helmeted heads; they are fragile and demure. Yet drawn by the season and the sun, they are up. 

If they had appeared too soon, the raging floodwaters would have destroyed the wee plants. But now, after the storm, they have appeared in all their glory.

As I pushed this precious baby through the spectacular scenery, I was well and truly in the moment. It doesn't get better than this...

Find Joy in Each Day

One of the essential elements of a life well lived is joy. My daughter sent me a card with the above encouragement on it: Find joy in each day. I’ve positioned the card beside a photograph taken last spring of Mhairi, my mother and me, with my mother wearing a funny nose and eyebrows/glasses, and Mhairi in a lovely moment of abandonment to joy. 

The joy of the Lord is your strength, the Bible advises. What is the essence of joy? I think it is trust, a deep trust that despite whatever life is throwing at us, God is in control and his plans are for our good because he loves us. That frees us to be joyful. To let go of anxiety. To abandon fearful thinking. 

Joy involves living in the moment. Noticing the small detail of life and celebrating it. The contagious laughter of a child. The free canter of a herd of horses charging round a field. The gambolling of spring lambs. 

It enables us to declare, it is well with my soul. 

It is an acceptance that life is uncertain but what is assured is that I have this moment. This moment.

I don’t know what your life looks like at this moment, but here, though clouds scud around and the forecast is thundery and grey, the sun beams down right now. I’ve done a couple things on my to-do list. I’ve got plenty more on that list but for now, I am going to enjoy the moment, enjoy the presence of God in my life, and celebrate the life he’s given me.

There is an abundance of joy to be found in this day.

As I write these words, though, I am so aware that not everyone is experiencing a ‘neutral’ day like I am. There are grieving relatives of those lost on the shot-down Malaysian airliner. There are terrified inhabitants of war-torn lands, of Gaza and Israel, of Syria and Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan, Nigeria, and so on and on and on. 

Finding joy in the midst of such pain and trauma is more than a matter of strength of mind. It must be a gift of God which penetrates the agony and gives a glimpse that there is more, there is better, God has plans for everyone and they are plans for good and not for harm. 

My prayer as I celebrate life and God’s love, is that those who are stuck in a fearful storm of life will have moments today punctuated by a shaft of God’s love and light, penetrating the pain and instilling hope and yes, even joy.

The joy of the Lord is your strength. There is more to life than what we see.