God did make the little red apples

The red apple harvest from our tree in the grand-sounding ‘orchard’ is in. It is so satisfying to bite into a sweet, juicy apple, knowing no pesticides touched it, and no plastic was involved in its transportation to my kitchen.

I came back from the supermarket with many things encased in plastic. Fish from the fish counter (I should have taken my own container); a handful of nectarines; pate and hummus, orange juice. Much more.

What’s to be done? For me, a bigger investment in thoughtful shopping, planning ahead, finding alternatives. For us all, louder clamouring for options in the markets, so we can fill up our own containers and choose loose produce.  

This week, I’ve been reminded of how the Lord is intimately involved in our daily lives; he has answered two major things which I’ve been praying about in surprising, even delightful, ways. That is encouraging me to say with conviction, we should all be asking him to help us as individuals to live more sustainably, so that we make less of an impact on this wounded earth of his.

Expectantly, we should listen for his whisper. He wants to partner with us in this.

Kick the Bucket

So, I just kicked the bucket.

Not metaphorically. Seriously.

In a rare surge of energy, I have been washing windows over these last few days. I was going to leave the study window, where Don’s desk, piled high, makes it difficult to reach. Decided to make the effort and climbed onto the swivel office chair before finding a space on the desk to kneel.

The swivel chair is on rollers, which jerked to the left ... kicking over the full bucket, which is bad enough even without the pile of Important Papers stacked on the floor. I spent the next hour separating out each paper so they will dry and still be legible, then vaxing up the puddle on the carpet.

The ramifications of kicking the bucket.

I hope that when I metaphorically kick the bucket, I don’t leave behind a mess of Important Papers and soggy carpet. I’d like my exit to be clean, straight into the arms of Jesus, with no Important Papers for my loved ones to sort out.

I’d better keep cleaning.

He'll do it again

Someone I know has a small flat box, lined with thick cotton wool. Nesting inside are a couple of gold coins. Precious.

We’re all walking each other home. My dear Mom’s mind is increasingly closed into a box. Perspective and understanding are no longer hers. Looks like she’s going to have to journey on into another type of living space.

I am devastated, but as I scramble to find the way forward, I am reminded that Jesus is above, below, before and behind, and he carries my precious Mom in the deepest recesses of his heart. She is absolutely safe, held in his love.

I’ve seen him move the mountains before, and as we stumble into another valley, my eyes are on him. I’ll see him do it again.

His love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:8

Joy of Grandmothering

Oh, the joys of grand-mothering! Last week I could be found gathering up the ‘green rice’ from a newly cut lawn to make ‘green rice pie’. Yesterday I was outside in trench coat and clown hat, binoculars round my neck, as we became ‘spy-ers’ looking for clues. About all we found was a dead mouse who drowned in a drain, and a mini-caterpillar.

Jesus said that unless we become like children we will never enter his Kingdom. There are many serious thoughts to be drawn from that, about faith and hope and trust, but surely Jesus, who enjoyed a good dinner party, also referred to the unbridled imagination of a child. No boundaries, where everything is possible, and where the sole purpose of life at a given moment is joy.

I am so grateful for grandchildren who remind me how to play, just for the fun of it.

In Jesus kingdom, there are no boundaries, and everything is possible.

Fully Immersed

Fully immersed.

It was easy to fully immerse in the sun and the salty Mediterranean Sea. A fearful swimmer, I declined to swim away from the boat we took one day. But when I did venture into that beautifully-warm sea water on the beach at Lindos, I was amazed at the extreme saltiness which soon splashed onto my lips. I was reminded of the buoyancy of the salty Dead Sea, and readily began to swim, knowing it would take more effort to sink than to float.

We are home now, paddling back into the detail of our ‘real’ lives. As I wade back in, rather reluctantly, I sense the salt of the Spirit, and relax into the buoyancy he provides. In his arms, it takes more effort to sink than to float.

May I remember that through every situation, so that fear recedes and faith, joy and peace prevail. My heart overflows with gratitude to the loving Lord who created, and died, for me.

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.

Meaning

Splashes of colours and shapes covered the huge canvas. Abstract design: abstract thoughts, or cohering through the viewer’s perceptions? I gazed for several minutes and began to see things. A bridge. A lighthouse. A cityscape. The shape of a face.

It drew me in. Perhaps in a way that a more realistic painting wouldn’t. I’m not sure I’m a fan. But for the first time I began to see a point to the abstract.

The paintings lack titles, so the viewer is not conformed to the artist’s imagination but is free to explore her own.

Issues. Maybe we are too conformed to what we’re being told about the political scene. It looks a mess. The environmental crisis is a mess. On so many levels, our world appears to be in a mess.

We need a visionary who can step outside of the rhetoric and imagine. Someone who can perceive a path through the confusion.

God didn’t get angry when things were going wrong in Noah’s day. He grieved, grieved for his creation, and extended the time in case people could turn things round.

May he enlighten us in our days, so that we can step into the high calling he has for us all. May he call forth leaders in our day, leaders with humble hearts and open ears and compassionate souls, who long for justice and truth to prevail.

May we, through our prayers, be part of the solution.

Risky Living

I stretched my hand carefully through the thorny tangle of bramble stems, focused on the plump berries deep within. I noticed the sticky web just before plunging through it, and drew back as I saw the brown striped spider scurrying away to the edge. I’d have to find another way to reach those berries, and as I considered, I noticed the spider’s dilemma: a succulent insect struggled, caught on his web, and I could imagine the spider salivating, if indeed spiders can salivate! We were both on hold as we considered the risk to gather our tasty morsel.

Sometimes it is easy to ‘taste and see that the Lord is good’. Other times there are things in the way, risks we must take, temptations we must resist in order to gather in the nourishment he provides.

The Best-Laid Plans

The best-laid plans…

My day was laid out before me, but I was not in control of it. Responsibilities dictated I miss Bible study. Frustrated, I have a choice: to squander the day in a ‘mood’, irritated and brooding. Or grab hold of the new look to my day with a grateful heart.

I have only today. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is speculative, as today was. So, I have praise music on, as I lean in to God prayerfully to make the most of these two hours. May I sense his presence and hear his voice as I lay down my plans and let the day unfold.

Quiet surprises

Clusters of orange berries flame bright on the rowan tree outside the window. When did their colour become so vibrant? Unnoticed, the fruit matured until now it is joyfully vivid.

Continuing the thought of the quiet maturation of the fruit of the Spirit within each of us. We don’t notice the Lord’s work until one day something highlights the joyful reality that through him, one of the fruits he has grown in us has fed someone else.

Moses was on a mission, and yet curiosity drew him to the burning bush, where he paused to wonder why it wasn’t consumed by the flames. Many mornings I write my ‘to-do’ list and set off on my missions for the day. May I indulge the childlike curiosity which often lies dormant under my grown-up responsibilities, and step aside today to pause and wonder at the mysteries in this wonderful world.

How wonderful it will be if, like Moses, I hear God’s voice.

Harvest Home

Plump, ripe brambles. Such a bounty at this time of year. They’ve been harvesting these flavoursome berries for a few weeks in Angus. As I walked this morning, I scoured the verges to see if I’d missed our own wild harvest here. Relieved to find that although some are black, many remain red and scrawny. More sun please.

Fruits ripen at different rates, dependant on many factors: warmth, rainfall, sunshine, wind. Filled with the Spirit, we want to see the fruits of the Spirit developing within us for others to enjoy. Some take longer than others to mature. I remember the familiar anecdote about the woman who prayed fervently for more patience, only to find her children more challenging than ever. God was simply providing the perfect environment in which the fruit could ripen – or wither. The woman’s attitude would make the difference there.

What’s my attitude today? As I cry out for one thing or another, am I prepared to find that the way to maturity isn’t always basking in the sunshine – though it might be!