The School Run

 

We set off for the school run. Literally, as I tried to keep up with three energetic grandkids on bikes, headed for school and nursery. I realised how bitingly cold it was, and when my foot slipped slightly, I began to move with greater caution.

How often do I head into things spiritually, full of enthusiasm and good ideas, only to slip slightly and belatedly recognise my need for Holy Spirit shoes?

May I move into this day wisely. May I move in faith and the assurance that God will not let my foot slip when I put my trust in him. May I sit in hope that he knows the end from the beginning … and the end is even better than the beginning. May I rest in the peace of Christ, knowing that one day there will be no more war, no more separations, no more death, no more tears. No more frozen pavements.

Advent is coming.

Through the Valley

 

Such an uplifting service at the West this morning. Thank you to all who participated.

Again and again, through worship lyrics, prayers and teaching, I heard God’s reassurance: keep going even in the valleys, even through the hard times, because I am with you and I see where this is all leading.

So encouraging when things are challenging on many levels, just to remember who it is that leads and guides, protects and saves, loves.

This is my Thanksgiving offering. My heart is full of gratitude to our triune God, the one who gave his all so I can give my all, the one who enables and who never gives up on me. Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you.

Noisy Consumption

 

Noisy consumption. The fire snaps and crackles in the grate, whooshing as it eats through the logs and coal. The sound of silence in winter in our house is cold; the snapping and spluttering coming from the fireplace warms my heart and my limbs.

Life usually generates noise at some level. And yet…

Be still and know that I am God.

The noisier we live, perhaps, the more important and central we see ourselves. As we consume more and more, louder and louder, like wildfires racing through dry terrain, we are left wasted and empty, pondering existential questions or just feeling like the writer of Ecclesiastes when he wrote, ‘All of  it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.’

It is as we pull back and listen that we know Life.

I have come to give life, life to the full, Jesus said. Jesus lived large, preaching to multitudes, interacting with kings and princes, priests and magistrates. Yet he took time to pull into lay-bys regularly, breathe deep, wait, and listen.

May I find the way to achieve such balance and openness to the divine spark, today and every day.

Support

 

A solitary post supports the weight of the upper floor of the house. In the 50’s, when the house was built, this met the regulations. This past week, the nervous owner had a shear wall built to join the single post: a wall, running the width of the house, and fully supporting its weight.

This is prudent. Possibly life-saving.

In my spiritual life, I only need one post to hold me up. Jesus advises that we abide in him. He is the vine and we are the branches, fully supported, fed and watered through him. Yet so often, I act as if that is not enough. I rely on relationships. I depend on bank accounts, insurance policies, other peoples’ encouragement or support.

May I fully surrender to putting all my trust and hope in the Lord. It is that which can set me free from anxiety and fear. It is that which releases me into joy.

May the truth of the gospel be increasingly realised in the life I lead.

Life

Two folding deck chairs on the cliff top. The older gal goes back to the car, returning with a couple of blankets. It’s a few minutes before sunset, which promises to be a second-looker, and the air is edged with a damp cold that could chill to the bones. The two ladies wrap up and wait. 

A young guy rolls up on an e-bike and exchanges familiar greetings. Maybe they planned to rendezvous up here. Or maybe they sometimes come, sometimes overlap. He draws their attention to the chunk of rainbow glowing in the clouds, then takes a call, walking off into the scrub and speaking with authority and assurance.

As I start the descent, I pass a car, engine running, idling. Inside, a young couple are delving deep into bags. Picnic dinner in the car, despite it being relatively warm outside. Another young couple further down, their car also idling, but their deep delving doesn’t look like a picnic.

It’s not quite five pm. 

A woman strides by in her serious hiking boots. Hi, she says over her shoulder as she passes.

The little white police parking patrol rolls up the hill, does a u turn and heads off. A greybeard struggles up the hill with his surfboard. Really? It’s nearly dark.

Last night in LA for awhile. Leaving part of my heart here on the coast, but a far greater chunk in the assisted living home where Mom had asked sadly, when will you be back? 

When indeed. The usual six months? Sooner if there is a need? 

‘My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.’

Without God, who never leaves any of us, where would we be? How could we do life?

War and Peace

 Veteran’s Day. 86 degrees in Seal Beach. Cloudless, blue expanse of sky. So good to connect with my university friend. We’ve known each other over fifty years. Memories of trying to get a tan together at UCR: before jobs, husbands, children. 

On the way to meet her, my GPS knew there was an accident bringing traffic to a halt, so she directed me, three times, to take the off-ramp, stay left, and rejoin the freeway. I’m not sure that is quite legal but there was a line of us doing it until we got past the accident scene. All had the same GPS guide I guess, and it kept some traffic moving.

On the return journey, she took me on a different freeway entirely, because the 405 was totally clogged with another accident. I was back near Torrance in under an hour, thinking about Veteran’s Day, thinking about Dad. Mom received a thank you certificate the other day for her service in the Marines, but Dad was the one who fought on Saipan.

I detoured to the cemetery. I know he isn’t there, but still. There is a connection in place.

They fought. So many died. And yet still wars pepper the globe, people suffer and flee, are traumatised, injured, and killed.

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace. 

He provides

The November sun was warm on my face. I walked along the Pacific shoreline. Runners passed me, shirts dark with sweat stains. Bikers zipped by, either through their own effort or aided by electric propulsion. A couple of skaters swayed gracefully as they stroked past me. Other walkers stared straight ahead, ears plugged with air pods, listening to music or wisdom or entertaining chat, or talking animatedly on their phones. 

The light sparkled on the salty ocean as the waves dropped with regularity. I watched and walked, letting the rhythmic sound soothe and draw me to God. I began to pray the 23rd psalm. Slowly, line by line. 

I had just come from the Veterans Day commemoration, watching Mom be honoured as the only female resident who served in the armed forces in World War 2. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. 

I had attended a meeting about future care needs and services. I was still trying to resolve a bank issue. I had to figure out insurance dilemmas. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. I visualised a table laden with good, nourishing foods and refreshing drink. God is providing all I need to be nourished…and he opened my eyes to see that as I focus on the issues and problems, complaining and worrying, these anxious thoughts become my enemies. 

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. … he restores my soul. 

My cup overflows. 

I am so grateful that he invites me to eat at the table he has prepared. May he help me to retain the joy and freedom he gives, as I walk on in faith and trust.

Jesus said he would never leave us. He is true to his word.