Sticky Willow

Sticky willow entwined amongst the wild sweet peas, strangling them into congested heaps. They lay trussed tightly against the stone dyke, tangled in the dying daffodil stems and leaves. The green stems and frond-like flowers of the weed blend so well with the sweet peas that sometimes I stare and initially can’t discern them – then suddenly they pop out and I try to trace them back to the roots. Very often, though, the brittle stems break and the root is lost in the green carpet, left intact to grow again. If I don’t pull them out, they diminish the beauty of the wild sweet peas.

Opinions can be like sticky willows. They take root silently, unnoticed. They are formed by and rooted in circumstance, preference, by others we admire, by others we obey, by our own rebellious inclinations. They can entwine around our thoughts and influence our judgment, until the truth begins to fade, to weaken within us, to twist and distort. We can become critical and brittle, denouncing others as we clump in camps of like-minded individuals.

Sticky willows seem to have overwhelmed the White House, tying people into prisons of received opinion, strangling truth and blocking out the light. Sticky willows seem to be growing profusely in Downing Street, compromising truth and undermining ethics. Like triffids, they are creeping into Parliament and Congress, pulling people into factions hardened by hatreds rooted in opinion, not fact.

When I garden, I often fail to eradicate the roots of the sticky willows. I have to return to the same patches and weed them out several times. I’m praying to our Father the gardener, to reach down into this world and delicately but completely pull out the partisan lies and self-serving untruths, the brutal racism and rampant injustices against the innocent, to release truth and refresh beauty.

We like to be independent, to think that we can do it. No. It’s time to lean in to our Father the gardener more than ever and cry out to him to please, come in and sort us out.

Cornflowers

A few weeks ago, I scattered cornflower seed onto the soil of a gardening tray and sprinkled soil over the top. The seed sprouted, and now, aided by the warmth of the conservatory and copious waterings, the seedlings flop against one another, jostling for space, awaiting transplantation.

I know that today when I set them out, I will need to spend time gently untangling their delicate roots. I’ve left them a bit longer than is wise, probably.

Prior to lock down, our churches were often crowded with like-minded believers. Every week we joined together with our church family and praised God and learned more about him as we also learned more about each other. For many of us, our social events and meetings involve the same group of believing friends.

Lock down has scattered us. We have been transplanted back into our neighbourhoods. It hasn’t been easy to give up our gatherings. Zoom lets us smile and chat but we are missing our church family.

But maybe our roots were getting far too entangled. Maybe it was time for us to be transplanted, to be moved into different neighbourhoods where we can at least share a nod and a wave with a neighbour as we walk by, day after day. Maybe we, like the cornflower, will be able to stretch our roots down deeper as we depend on God’s strength to move out of our comfort zone and speak to those we do not know very well. Maybe we, like the cornflower, will stretch wider and bloom more profusely as we are given more space to grow.

Maybe out of this painful time of separation, God will bring revival as we bring his fragrance into our neighbourhoods, his light into the darkness surrounding us. Today, if and when I meet a neighbour, I want to share the hope we have in Jesus rather than join in the chorus of condemnation of the government or fears for the future.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Core Integrity

For some reason, I visualised the cross at the centre of the rotor blades of a helicopter. I would imagine that the integrity of this connection is critical for successful flight. Without integrity at the core of the flying mechanism, there will be trouble.

This is true in politics. Without integrity at the centre, the nation is imperilled as we lurch from one direction to another. Without integrity at the centre, the entire structure could fail. Integrity calls for truth and justice.

This is true in my life today. Without integrity at my core, I will veer from one direction to another, persuaded to go first one way, then another. God is the source of integrity. Without reconnecting with him daily and being fuelled with his Spirit and filled with love for Jesus, I am never going to fly.

Core Strength

The Sadler’s Wells dancers stretched and contorted, jumped and twisted and wiggled and froze as they lip-synched to a Gogol play. It was extraordinary, dance theatre at its very best.

The total control, the incredible core strength of these talented dancers was awesome to see. They moved with lightning speed and landed lightly, gracefully. It was odd, yet beautiful. Timing was perfect. A delight to watch.

Odd times we are living in. Sometimes we are contorting and often we are stretching. We don’t always land lightly. We don’t always stay in time to the beat. We look clumsy and we fall but as we draw in near the Choreographer, we strengthen our cores of faith and our wobbles become less frequent.

On this glorious spring/summer morning, may our cores all gain strength so that whatever the next challenge is, we stretch and contort and jump and twist with grace, fearlessly, and land lightly. The joy of the Lord is our strength. This is somehow a picture of perfect joy.

In the midst of it all, may the joy of the Lord bring you blessing this day.

How Long?

Wild winds continue to pummel trees and flowers for the second day in a row. The primroses are losing colour before my eyes, reds turning brown. Parrot tulips we were admiring two days ago are worn with the constant barrage, petals beginning to drop before their time. Climbing rose and clematis, inadequately supported, whip up and down against the windows. Still the winds blow, relentlessly.

Upstairs, Mhairi struggles with technology. Website hosting, internet connections, all critical to her work. With grace which must come from God, she speaks calmly to the help desk, having waited an hour on hold, and tries to get things working again. It seems that as soon as one problem is fixed, another issue arises.

Wild winds buffet so many throughout this pandemic world. Unemployment. Lack of child care for working parents whose jobs are essential. Loneliness. Abuse. Empty banks and empty kitchen cupboards. Deadly disease. Uncertainty over the future. How do we come out of this lock down safely?

How long, Lord? How long? You are the Almighty, Creator God, and to you we cry out for mercy, for help. In you we trust, for you we wait. You are our faithful God, and you are our hope and our salvation. We look to you for strength, for steadfastness, for peace.

Blessed be your name

Overnight rains have soaked the thirsty ground, and now a warm sun peeks out from the clouds still being blown across a blue sky beyond. The potatoes planted deep and the carrot and parsnip seeds planted shallow will be swelling in the rain and sprouting towards the sun.

Swell my heart today, Lord, with praise. As the seeds in the earth soaked in the rain water overnight, and now feel the warm fingers of sunlight tickling and teasing them into growth, may my heart swell in the refreshing truth of the gospel, and may it sprout in the warm glory of the Son. May it grow into a living praise machine. May I go through this day with all its challenges, imagined and unforeseen, with a song in my heart, a song on my lips, a song of praise and thanksgiving. Be lifted up, Lord, be exalted. Be glorified, my Jesus, be worshipped all over the world.

As Covid 19 highlights the failings of society, may your praises highlight the glories of this world you have given us. Maybe the earth would be better off without humanity, but partnering with you, Lord, we can steward creation as you want us to. Help us today, Lord. And be glorified in everything.

Blessed be your beautiful name, Jesus. Amen.

Pesky Flies

Warmer weather brings us all outside. Including lazy black flying bugs – not exactly flies but just as annoying. The danger of speaking on today’s walk was that I might have a black bug stuck on a front tooth or surfing on my tongue. (It didn’t stop me …)

Irritating and annoying. But not dangerous, as far as I know. They don’t bite. They don’t carry disease. They just duck and dive in front of your face as you walk or cycle.

They represent the level of annoyance most of us in the west live with usually. Pesky irritations. Interruptions. Delays, not disease.

Covid-19 is a salutary lesson for us all, opening our eyes to the knife edge on which most of the world lives normally. I’ve never forgotten the choir of Ugandan orphans who sang for us in Banchory years ago. At the evening service, we circled round for a spontaneous thanksgiving prayer. None of ‘us’ could get a word in, so sparky were these destitute children in voicing their gratitude to God. ‘Thank you for the sunshine’; ‘thank you for my hands and feet’; ‘thank you for Jesus’.

They had a lot more to contend with than a few pesky flies. Now, in a pandemic, I have more respect than ever for those who live with such uncertainty, and do so with grace and joy, exuberant joy.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer, Paul wrote to the Romans. Reminded of that verse recently, it seems so appropriate right now. I pray that joy will extend its roots deeper into my being than they have ever been. Anchored in the love of Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.

Resurrection Life

A few weeks back, the impatiens we planted out too soon was blackened and withered in an overnight frost. We have mourned the loss but not dug up the plants, and this morning, it appears there are some new shoots coming from the roots. A resurrection miracle of new life.

I am thinking of those Covid-19 sufferers, whose fights for life on ventilators are being won. Some come out of intensive care like the withered inpatiens, clinging on to life, which will sprout and bloom and flower again, given time and care. Such gratitude to the NHS workers whose own lives are at risk as they seek to save lives. Such gratitude to God.

I am also thinking of my fictional character who I am trying to recreate. May my imaginative energies be up to the task, I pray, as I ask for inspiration from the great creator. May this character fill out and blossom, live and laugh and breathe on the page, and spark thought and conversation.

Have a great Tuesday.

The day

Over the weekend, I forgot to make the granola we have for breakfast during the week, so we went into Monday morning with scrambled eggs. Frozen bread into the toaster. An hour later, granola cooling for tomorrow, and the bread maker is grinding away behind me. We are so blessed to have choices. I pray for those whose empty larder in the morning means an empty stomach for the day. Make me generous today, Lord, with prayers and time and money.

This is the day the Lord has made. I was awake in the night, first with the anxieties that haunt most of us, but then the Lord helped me use the wakefulness creatively, inspiring ideas of how to revise a major character in a book I wrote years ago. I’m excited to get going on it.

This is not the day I had planned yesterday. But this is the day that the Lord has made, and I am going to rejoice in it. I have misgivings that I am up to the writing task, so as I read of Jesus raising Jairus’ daughter this morning, I asked him to raise these characters in the book so that they speak truth and life.

This is the day the Lord has made. It is all I have. With his help, I will walk through it with him.

Feel the Father's Embrace

A blustery wind ruffles my lengthening hair as I patrol the garden, checking the condition of spinach and rhubarb, peas and beans, apple trees and blueberry bushes. I particularly note the flowers opening on the strawberry plants.

It is still cold in this corner of Scotland. Colder than May should be. Dry and sunny many days, overcast and dry other days, but cold. One thinks that plants flower because they are teased into activity by a warm sun, a balmy breath of wind.

But no. The strawberries are in bloom despite the chill. It’s part of their DNA. Hopefully as the blossom transforms into strawberries, a warm sun will bring a sweetness to the fruit which is borne.

Paul wrote to the people in a town in Asia Minor (Turkey), a town called Colossae, and told them that he was praying for their endurance and perseverance, patience and joy, during tough times, so that they might bear fruit.

During these chill days of lockdown and pandemic fear, may I endure and persevere patiently and with joy, allowing the flowers of kindness, peace, love, joy, patience, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control to form and be expressed through my words and my actions. In due season, may these flowers become fruit to nourish those who have yet to give their lives to Jesus. May eyes be opened as the fruit of the Spirit is seen and tasted.

May we be more eager than ever to share the reason for our hope during these days when many are sinking into despair. It is in our DNA as Christians. God is good. In the world there is plenty of trouble, but we can take heart because Jesus has overcome the world. And he has gifted us with the indwelling Holy Spirit, and it is this wonderful Spirit who grows the fruit in us as we abide in Jesus.

Feel the Father’s embrace today, and be thankful. xx

Gratitude and Grace

Gratitude and grace.

Mhairi shot off to Tesco for us again, armed with a list so we can make the menus we chose last night. I noticed the birds nesting in the house outside the kitchen window. Then I noticed the ones in the house beside the garage. Busy. Teamwork, as I wrote last week.

My job is to disinfect and put away once those purchases enter the kitchen. I dunk in soapy water and rinse and dry. I wipe other things with disinfectant wipes. I wipe out the fridge and put in the food for next week.

I hope I don’t miss one or two of those invisible virus bombs. I pray I don’t.

There is so much food, when you buy for a week. We are so blessed, that we can buy for a week. I am full of gratitude for what we don’t deserve. I think of those in other communities, where they, like the Israelites in the desert, can only gather or buy enough for today. Every day they are dependent on their heavenly Father. Give us this day our daily bread.

If I were to be accurate praying the Lord’s prayer, I would need to say Thank you, today, for our weekly bread, and meat, and fruit and veg and chocolate. For our toothpaste and hair clips and peanut butter.

I don’t deserve anything from God, from Jesus – ‘who bled and then he died and then he rose again for me’. Gratitude for his grace. Praying for those whose walk is perhaps more intimate with God as they are more aware of their total dependence on him. May God help me to share, to hear his promptings and to respond in joy and obedience, to live a life of communal care.

May we all shelter in the shadow of those gracious wings, shelter and trust in him.

Dancing Lights and Dahlias

The dancing lights used to precede a migraine for me. Now, thankfully, they seem to be a phenomenon on their own, without the pounding headache to follow. I am so grateful.

I’ve noticed the dancing lights more frequently of late. Not sure why. I feel good. I wonder if it’s a general wakefulness at night, sleeping intermittently rather than a good solid stretch of time. I don’t know.

This morning, they started to fringe my vision as I looked into my Bible. Luke. The paralysed man being lowered through the roof to the healing Saviour. I find that I can continue to read despite the dancing lights, if I focus on one word at a time. Not a bad thing when reading Scripture. It can be tempting to skim through, to recognise I’ve read that bit before and assume I’ve got everything out of it already. But no, that’s not what Scripture is, is it? You never have got everything out of any of it; God always has another layer, another level, to speak to you about.

During the days of lock down it is perhaps helpful remembering this in order to retain focus on God, or on a project, or on whatever is in front of me at any given time. It is helpful not to be distracted by reading too much news, or sharing too much speculation on how we’re going to get out of this – both which can steal inner peace.

I felt encouraged this morning to pick up a project which has been dormant for years. Every winter, we dig up and put the dahlia tubers into the attic to survive the winter. A few weeks ago, I planted these dead-looking bulbous conglomerates into separate pots of compost and began watering them in the greenhouse. All but one has sprouted and they are growing well, ready to be planted out whenever it seems the danger of frost is past. Perhaps that project has been awaiting such a time as this.

May God help us all to focus today on that which gives us life and hope and peace.

More Baguettes

Baguette blog part 2. Between three of us, we managed to eat 3 out of 4 baguettes at dinner and breakfast. Somehow, when baked as a standard loaf, that amount of bread would last at least two or three days, but when sausage shaped and crunchy, we gobbled it up in half the time and I’ve got more bread in the machine for today!

Was it worth the hours of fussing around timing risings and reshaping, resting, punching down, and so on? Yes. Change is good. It may be the same recipe, yet it tasted different.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. This is the day that the Lord has made.

These days of lock down can be Groundhog Days. Monday can be the same as Friday or Sunday. With a bit of effort, though, the days, like bread dough, can be reshaped and then, somehow, taste different. Present a different experience.

We have introduced one night a week as a sharing night. One week we each chose a favourite piece of music, listened to it and then explained why it was special to us. One week we shared a poem, again expanding on it to relive our first encounter with it, telling what it spoke to us maybe at a past point in our lives, maybe even now. This week we hope to have a trip down memory lane with some home movies (if the old projector still works). I’ve heard of others who are dressing up for a meal once a week or so and having a date night in.

Obviously this is no good if you are locked down alone, but Zoom encounters and skype calls can also reshape time so that our days have variety and interest, re-shaping a day and expanding horizons.

Jesus came to give us life in all its fullness. In our normal, unlocked-in world, that fullness can look like a busy schedule of work and relationships and sporting activities and concerts or plays.

How often in the past I have wished that the world would stop for a day so I could catch up with things! It has stopped now for two months, and I am realising that I don’t want to just get all the jobs done. I also want to enjoy every day.

We still have the same gift of life, the same amount of time, but it sits like a ball waiting for us to choose how to shape it today. Will your day be a plain loaf or a braided brioche or a simple baguette?

Baguettes

Baguettes. Four rises. Four punches down and kneads before division and shaping and two more rises.

The baker online says that adds to the flavour. I don’t quite see how, but I’m trying it.

Then he recommends a pan of boiling water at the bottom of the oven, to make for a crustier crust. And precise scoring of the crust, again to add to the experience of eating it.

I don’t get it. But he’s the expert.

This lock down is full of rises and punches down. Significantly more than four as we head into our eighth week. Globally there is so much pain and anguish. For each of those deaths recorded daily, there are loved ones in abject grief and shock. Many homes feel more like cells than havens by now. Many children are confused and perplexed as they miss their pals and long for some freedom.

We may hear of a bit of a rise tonight. Maybe a relaxing of some of the restrictions. But many of us are bracing for another punch down, if infections begin to rise as a result.

There is a global groan as this pandemic reshapes the world. It will not be as it was. In the pain, though, there  is opportunity. Opportunity to shape a world order informed by compassion. A world where ambitious self-interest gives way to seeking after the greater good, for environment and society.

In this world we have trouble, Jesus confirmed. But we can take heart, for he has overcome the world. Only he knows the best way out of this crisis in which we are flailing. May we emerge from this painful period trusting in God to help us shape a better world.

Teamwork

I looked up from chopping squash for the soup, to see a wee bird pop out of one of the bird houses and her partner to go in. Teamwork, getting food or hatching the eggs: I’m not sure which stage this little family has reached.

Mhairi did our grocery shopping today, and now the lock down seems even more complete. She doesn’t want us getting Covid-19, but frankly, I’d rather get it than have her – or any of the younger generation – contract it. They are carving careers and raising families while we have done that. As much as I don’t want to meet my Maker quite yet, if it were to happen, I would be ready. But I don’t want any younger lives cut short.

So, it has been a struggle. A struggle to be the shielded rather than the shield. For awhile I’ve referred to myself as older, not old. I’ve been relieved that I am not yet 70…quite. Having taken care of family and others who need a hand for so long, it is hard to restrain the urge to keep doing that.

Mhairi returned with everything on the list. As I cleaned out the fridge, washed everything that came in (well, most everything), and made the soup, I checked my impatience at doing these housekeeping tasks when really I’d planned to do some other things. As she has now gone to work upstairs, I can take care of her by preparing nice food. Teamwork.

May God give me the grace to accept changing seasons, and restricted activities, with patience and joy.

Flagging

The sun pours out of a clear blue sky and once again, over-enthusiasm got the better of Don and me. Don planted out the beautiful salmon-pink impatiens we bought a couple of weeks ago, only to find them shrivelled and dead in the morning. An overnight frost took them away, like it did some of the marigolds I hopefully planted a few weeks ago.

We are over-eager to enter into the freedom of summertime joys. To see the colour return. To smell the fragrances of plenty. To watch the busy bees, the frolicking butterflies, and the hungry birds. To bask in the warm sunshine.

Now our hopes are dashed. Well, our hopes for profusions of yellows and pinks.

I am so ready for this pandemic to disappear. I thought I was bobbing along fine, but last night I couldn’t sleep. It’s like a bereavement, this being denied contact with family and friends. A deep grief, knowing these days bring changes which don’t reverse, especially in children. We can’t recapture those moments of first steps, of first words, of hilarious giggles and warm hugs, of crawling around the floor pushing trains or cars or building lego, of discovering a world of wonder and beauty with inquisitive grandkids. There will be more moments in the future, I know, but these moments, at these stages of development, will be gone.

But we can’t make the same mistake we made with our marigolds and our impatiens. We don’t want to invite disaster by re-engaging too soon. We have to reign in our impulses.

I found comfort in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18. ‘Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles (!!) are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.’

If you’re flagging like I am, I pray for you, too, that today God will help us fix our eyes on Jesus, so that ‘the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace’.

Comfort and Rest

Internet with decent speed is not part of our experience of rural life. We struggle at the best of times. Now, with children doing school work online, work-outs and streaming movies and so on, it can slip further, making skype calls a challenge, Zoom meetings frustrating when several people want to talk at the same time.

Technology is helping us get through this time of lock down, but it is such a poor second to meeting friends and loved ones in person, hugging and just enjoying each other’s company. We are made for relationship, and enforced separation is painful.

On a Skype call last night, there was frequent interference in the form of other voices cutting in and out, other voices having other conversations. I am old enough to remember having a ‘party line’ when I was young. Four households shared the same number, and so we had to take turns using the phone.

I am grateful that our connection to God is not via Skype or Zoom or Meeting Rooms. I am grateful that there is nobody listening in; that the only interference is from my own distracting thoughts. We were made for relationship: first with God, then with other people. During this lock down, I think of all those who are bereaved, anxious, stuck in challenging circumstances or just plain lonely because of the imposed disconnection, and pray that God will break in on any unhelpful thoughts with his loving presence today. May those who are searching for answers find comfort and rest in God.

Up the Tree

The pheasant flew up to a low branch on the huge larch tree outside the window of the living room. We were startled. Usually pheasants flap and rise up briefly before settling back on the ground and running. We’d never seen any fly up into a tree.

Awhile later, as the darkness deepened, we could see that this beautiful bird had worked his way up, higher, onto a branch safe from predators, where he could sleep in peace.

We are in testing times. Predators circle, taking pot shots at our courage, at our love, at our faith. Scripture tells us that we are helpless without Jesus. Without Jesus, we are ‘sitting pheasants’, easy pickings for sin’s attacks. Though we have been raised from death to life, we slip back into the darkness daily, in our thoughts, in our words, in our deeds. Trusting Jesus for everything is the definition of life itself.

I am like that fat pheasant. I don’t fly very well. But I can just about get myself onto the lowest branch of trust in Jesus (with a boost up from the wind of the Spirit). Then, as I recognise where I am, and that I am, indeed, safe, because of his protection, Jesus helps me inch higher up, further in, where he restores courage, renews love, revives faith.

He is light and life. We don’t understand fully, but as we lean in, he reveals more. May this testing time have an outcome that we are all more aware of our absolute dependence on Jesus our Saviour.

Time is short

Time was short today, because I had my weekly outing to the grocery store. I confess that I came home grumpy. I’m getting tired of the mask and fussing with plastic gloves. I’m really tired of washing and wiping down the purchases when I get back.

Then I feel guilty. I have it so good. I can afford to buy the food we want. I can drive to the shop. I come home to a husband and daughter and enjoy a poached egg and coffee which they have prepared. I have no complaints, only gratitude for my undeserved blessings.

In keeping with my ambition to play my cello every day, I squeezed in a quarter of an hour just now. I didn’t bother with my glasses or the music. I played from the heart, to my king. Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest. The splendour of the king. Thank you, Lord. Praise your name.

How great is our God. I am so grateful that although I have no idea how we will ever get out of this fearful pandemic, God knows. I hold before the throne of grace all those who are suffering with the illness or the loneliness or the bereavement or the anxiety or the exhaustion. Grace and peace in the name of Jesus, our Saviour.