Vision

 

This morning, the sun streams through the window, dazzling me. Welcome! So welcome!

Yesterday, I had an hour to wait for the car’s windscreen wiper to be fixed. No sign of the sun then! I had crept slowly down to the garage, peering through the rain-spattered windscreen, finding it easier, weirdly, to see through the drips while wearing my sunglasses, than without them.

Leaving the car, I headed to the river for a walk. Should have worn those waterproof trousers. Rain was sheeting at me, horizontally, and before long, the waterproof jacket was successfully wheaking the water off it, providing a steady stream to soak my jeans.

I walked stoically on. Wearing a face mask, with a woollen hat pulled low and my hood encasing all, I was unrecognisable. If I’d met anyone.

The Dee was in spate, rollicking and spuming over rocks, carrying sticks and other debris in its cold waves. Meltwater and recent rains combined to swell it above some of the banks.

Speak to me, Lord, I prayed. I am listening. There’s a lot going on in my life, and yet there is a sense of suspended animation, too. A routine. A repetitiveness. A sense of being cloistered. I am listening, I said, again and again. And then I did listen.

I found myself thinking of Martha and Mary. There’s a lot to do, Jesus said, but you have a choice. Mary made the better choice. To sit and listen at My feet.

What will you do today? What will I do?