The Price of Silk

 

Cocooned.

Radio 4 has a lot to answer for. Now I can never buy silk – I’d say, again, but I’m not sure I ever did buy it. But it has that allure, doesn’t it? One wants to buy silk, the best silk.

Apparently, the best silk comes from China, where the best mulberry trees grow. Farmers collect the cocoons which the silkworms weave, selling them to factories. There they are sorted according to colour – whitest is best.

Then. Then they are boiled. Yes, the silkworms are still alive, snoozing away, transforming into a moth. Suddenly they are plunged into boiling water. We humans are so cruel!

The boiled silkworms are sold on to South Korea, where they are eaten as a delicacy. The cocoons are unwound: a single thread can measure up to a mile. I wonder how many cocoons are needed for a scarf, or a nightie, or a pair of socks?

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. When will we wake up and stop our cruel exploitation of it?

Overnight casualty

 

A casualty overnight. We thought another cat had been knocked down near the end of our drive, but no, when Don went to check, it was a badger. Beautiful, except for the spots of blood on its head.

I don’t know who bumped it, and I know that over the forty plus years of living here, I have killed a fair share of wildlife. Bunnies and pheasants and even a deer. Sometimes it’s unavoidable as an animal emerges unseen from the verge and does a sort of kamikaze dive under the car’s wheels. But other times, like when I hit the deer, the driver’s mind can be so focused on the next thing, or the big anxiety, or the happy event, that she is oblivious to what’s around.

My Dad’s mantra when he was teaching me to drive was, ‘Remember you are in control of a lethal weapon.’ I’ve never forgotten that, but obviously I’ve not always adhered to it.

May I live my life with vision, Lord, so that I am not so preoccupied that my attention is limited with blinkers of self which blind me to those I may be passing by today. And may I not just be innocent of leaving casualties in my wake. Instead, make me ready to reach out to those who are struggling, ready to step back and wait for those stepping into my path.

Jesus, tired as he was, adjusted his plans when the crowds wouldn’t leave him alone. Thankful that no crowds are following me, I want to live large and reflect the grace and love of God today. I don’t want my carelessness or impatience to make me into a lethal weapon. Thanks to Jesus, I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Interruptions

 

The house has fallen quiet. I am in the prayer window, listening to an app and considering the condition of my heart.

A huge lorry grinds up the road and I recognise it as one bringing supplies to Don for the conversion in the steadings. Painstakingly, the skilled driver reverses up the drive, going gently under the overhanging tree branches. I don’t think he broke anything off. Finally, he has gone as far as he dares and stops right outside the prayer window.

Perspective broken. View truncated. I continue with the app, as plasterboard is off-loaded just a few feet away.

When life interrupts a sacred moment, it can feel jarring and brutal. But life can be jarring and brutal. I want to be on the mountaintop praising God, but building materials are needed for the work to continue. Can I embrace what interrupts, and weave it into the tapestry of today?

Yes, with God’s help.

God promised Caleb that his would be the portion of the promised land where his feet had trod when he first spied out the land with the other nine scouts. Even after forty years in the wilderness, the giants remained in the land, but Caleb, full of faith and trusting the Lord, stepped into his inheritance, strong enough and prepared to do battle if required.

Whatever today’s interruptions, whatever giants loom on the horizon, may I step into that which God has called me to do, faithful and trusting that I can do all things through him.

 

Such a Time

 

Covid test negative. Whew. It feels like the noose is tightening, as my Mom tested positive (no symptoms, praise God!), Joey tested positive (a week after they moved out and into Aberdeen), Bible study friends have tested positive. Fortunately everyone seems to have Covid-light.

Was I born for such a time as this? Yes. God’s timing is always perfect. So were you. May we all build ourselves up in Christ, strengthening our stature to carry the callings he has on our lives.

The sun beams coolly out of a pale blue sky this morning. A breeze ruffles the dry grass and bare branches. A red kite out-manoeuvres two disappointed crows in claiming some tasty bites in the field.

This is the day the Lord has made. I am grateful to be alive, at such a time as this.

Broken

 

The strong branch has been broken off, leaving a shaggy stump. From the stump sprout six or more new twigs, each with potential to strengthen and lengthen and support new leaves and life. These new twigs stretch hopefully skywards.

A word I am meditating on as an appropriate one for 2022 is ‘change’. We have been living in a time of uncertainty and change for two years now, but I sense that this year might bring more personal change to my life.

So good to know that when a branch is broken off, new life sprouts, supported still from what went before.

As a verse from one of my favourite psalms says, ‘I cling to you; your strong right hand holds me securely’. Whatever change awaits – whatever is broken off in coming days or months – abiding in Christ keeps me grounded and safe.

 

God's Creatures

 

I sit in the prayer window, looking west over the fields to the Hill of Fare beyond. The flock of white woolly sheep grazes into view. Listening to a Bible app, I watch the sheep, surprised at how fast their little teeth and mouths move to gather enough grass to satisfy. I wonder if it tastes good as they periodically raise their heads and chew it up.

I’ve moved to the room I use for writing now, looking east over that same wrap-around field. Here comes the flock of sheep, back into view, having eaten their way round the back of the house. I wonder about the sheep. What were their lives like before we domesticated them?

My Mother’s pet sheep, Queenie, used to follow her into the judging rings at county fairs. Her wool fills a quilt used by one of my cousins who lives near the Canadian border. Mom at 97 still fiercely disputes with anyone who says that sheep are stupid.

God made all the creatures that move along the ground…And God saw that it was good.

May my eyes be wide open to the amazing diversity and beauty of this wonderful world God has given us to steward, and may my words and actions reflect reverence for the Creator’s love and provision.

Facing Eastwards

 

Facing eastwards, restored to my former writing space now that the house has emptied out, I marvel at the vibrancy of the dawn. Stripes of magentas and deep pinks, purples and goldens streak the sky and draw my eye.

And then I become aware of the drab, bare branches a metre from the window, bouncing slightly in a lazy breeze. Two birds flutter into view, pecking here and there and then slipping on by. Beyond the bare cherry tree, several woolly sheep graze into the picture, tugging at the frosted grass. The muted colours of the foreground were easily overlooked by the dramatic beauty beyond.

This is the day the Lord has made. It is easy to project my attention on future plans and overlook what is right in front of me. Do not despise the day of small things. What small thing am I in danger of missing today, as I look ahead to spring and summer?

May God direct my focus, that I would bless and be blessed in the mundane and routine of a cold January day.

 

Moth-eaten

 

The wool jacket had hung in the closet, unused during these months of pandemic lock-downs. Taken out into the light of day, we were horrified to see that moths had munched their way through it, leaving a lacy legacy of no use to anyone. Several of our sweaters have gone the same way. Obviously, a problem we need to address, urgently.

Spring cleaning time, followed by sprays and mothballs and who knows what?

God has given each of us talents and gifts. They may lay hidden and unused, revealing a lack of confidence in the God who gave the gift to enable us to use it. Hidden away, gifts which might bring pleasure and even revelation to others are of no use. The thief can fill us with self-doubt and even doubt in God’s provision (Did God really say … ? the snake asked Eve in the garden). Moths of busyness and distractions can easily eat holes in our talents.

Why store up treasures for thieves to steal and moths to destroy, Jesus asked. Why indeed? Time for some serious de-cluttering, both spiritually and physically.

Broken Fishing Net

 

The child’s fishing net and pole broke. An adult would have thrown it in the bin. As I walked down the drive, though, I noticed the lurid pink netting swinging from a branch of a low bush. The net held, not fish, but a variety of pebbles and stones, pinecones and twigs. Veritable treasures in the eyes of a child. What are they? They can be anything my imagination wants them to be.

This morning I am considering our broken world. Those who would throw it out are investing big bucks in spacecraft to take them to a new life on a barren planet like Mars.

Those whose faith is in the love of a Creator God who made heaven and earth see the broken orb dangling in space. On it are people of all sizes and sorts, flora and fauna, mountains and seas. May our imaginations, and those of our leaders, align with our Heavenly Father’s creative vision. May we hear his whispers to his earthly team, so that we as individuals and collectively adjust our consumption, reassess our priorities, and share his vision as he saves this planet.

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does our help come from? Our help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. Thank you, God.

Restore us

 

A sheen of frost salts the frozen earth. Droplets of gossamer ice now melted hang heavy on the bare branches of the apple trees. A golden glow radiates above the treeline, though the sun does not rise high enough to clear it.

But I know it’s there.

Every morning, I wake to Radio 4, the Today programme, which broadcasts the news of the day on repeat. Most of the news is cold and dark. But by faith I see a warm glow radiating above it, filling me with hope that behind all the bleakness there is One who loves us.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Even on a cold, dark January morning, one can glimpse the smile of the Lord. May he work in all of us this day, inspiring us to do even one small thing to restore the world to the beautiful creation it once was.

I had a dream...

 

I had a dream.

In it, a homeless woman and her children were sheltering in nearby woods. I met her on our driveway, and as we walked together towards the woods, I noticed how clean and well she looked, considering her living situation.

‘My name’s Michele,’ I said. ‘My name’s Narnia,’ she replied.

We continued on towards the woods. I was aware that my family had joined me. Suddenly, Narnia was attacked by something invisible, something supernatural. Somehow, I knew it was a vicious wolf, and I battled it, invoking the name of Jesus many times. When it was defeated, I looked round and realised that Narnia had gone. She had disappeared.

Be self-controlled and alert, Peter wrote. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

Narnia. Feeling an urgency to pray with passion and perseverance for the persecuted church.

 

Red Eye Special

 

Icy puddles did not stop my neighbour and I from setting off on our regular walks together. It was a glorious morning, though the cold was biting. As we neared home, I could feel a dry patch in one of my eyes: a fragile blood vessel had broken, not able to tolerate the cold (I guess).

Now I am looking pretty monstrous, with a red eye where it should be white. Not a great look, when the eyes are the only part anyone sees of my face when I’m out and about. But underneath the mask, my mouth will be smiling as I meet other people. Will they notice anything but my red eye?

God advised Samuel that although people judge one another by outer appearances, he sees the heart. I pray that when I meet others who may be equally as monstrous-looking as me, I will look beneath the mask and perceive the friendly smile.

 

Retrospect

Listening to the Bible app I follow, I looked out the prayer window and watched as a robin perched rather precariously on a thin twig rocking in the icy wind. He flew off, and a woodpecker landed on the more substantial trunk and began abseiling downwards, beak drilling into the wood in search of breakfast.

I thought of Greg and I returning from a walk to the woods the other day. He had a sore tummy, and as a distraction, for some reason, we decided to walk backwards. He revealed the secret that he actually has eyes in the back of his head, which enabled him to guide me into our driveway.

How does the heavy body of the woodpecker manage to stay upright, its little claws holding it steady as it propels its head forward to drill for bugs? Not eyes in the back of his head, but astonishing strength in the spindly feet and slim neck.

At the start of 2022, I pray that I will have retrospective vision (like the Roman deity for whom the month of January is named) to enable me to move forward with confidence, avoiding some of the pitfalls of the past. I ask that I might be able to cling onto Jesus, held secure in his love, as I persevere in digging deep into his truths. May the Lord guide our feet as we step out to reflect his justice, his mercy and his love in this wounded world.

  

Grateful to Mom

 

The wind whines through any gap it can find, lonely and longing. Occasional cohorts of driven snowflakes pulse in waves across the field. It must be January.

Inside, I finish off the summary of last year in financial figures, and sigh. Not my favourite job. It must be January.

Christmas tree and all the merry decorations came down yesterday, a few days early I know. It must be January.

Now, I prepare to look ahead. The diary is empty, inviting creative thinking and optimistic plans. I am content to know that though I may make some plans, everything is in the hand of the Lord. That is a comforting, encouraging thought.

When I spoke to Mom last night, I expected her to be a bit down-hearted and confused. Once again, Covid rages through the staff and all residents are confined to their rooms 24-7. Not at all pleasant at any age, but especially when horizons are already curtailed.

Can’t remember how old I am, she laughed, but I must be near 100. Am I? Yes, another couple of years, I said. She reminisced about Dad, who would have been 99 on the 2^nd, and admitted how much she misses his company, his laughter. Looking forward to being with him again, she sighed, but meanwhile, I’m in God’s hands.

Even in the January of life, when cold winds howl and blizzards threaten, she knows that spring is just around the corner. Grateful for all I am still learning from my dear Mom.

Pigeon-toed

 

The sermon crescendoed into contemplative silence. What, God? I asked. Speak to me.

In my mind’s eye, I saw a single red boot, on a foot pointing inward. Pigeon-toed, we used to call it, when someone walks with toes pointed inward.

Really, God? Is there a message in one red boot, pigeon-toed?

A person can walk straight ahead despite their walking stance, be it pigeon-toed, duck-footed, or whatever. But probably one’s ankles, knees, hips, and possibly back are negatively impacted by feet not quite aligned. Maybe one’s progress is slowed.

I can be too inwardly focused, my mind pigeon-toed by vision limited by concerns for those closest to me. My thoughts can twist like a tornado round situations and personal challenges. I’m aware of and concerned for the larger picture, too, but my default thinking pattern centres round close relationships.

Nearly thirty years ago, we welcomed a wonderful family of displaced people into our home for a very short period, but those weeks impacted our children’s mindsets and compassionate hearts much more than a million of our words of discipline, correction, or challenge ever could have. When we opened our doors to this family, we had two children dealing with the turbulence of adolescence, and two primary children, one of whom was very apprehensive and the other who was young enough to relish the thought of a couple more kids younger than he was. Don’s business was not routine or particularly reliable. But somehow God helped us to look outward, to straighten our feet and stop walking pigeon-toed, and the result was beautiful in ways unanticipated and lifelong.

This year, I ask God to help me straighten my feet and lift my head to see things beyond my immediate family. May my prayers focus on global issues, situations of brutal injustice and pain, and may my activity reflect a new level of engagement.

I don’t know whether this makes sense to anyone else, but it is certainly speaking to my heart today. Thank you, Tony, for enabling such reflection with the words of your sermon.