Harvest

 

Rowan trees hang heavy with berries this year, orange now but slowly deepening into a rich red. Don tells me that indicates the winter will be harsh, if the rowan berries are plentiful.

Beyond the rowan tree, a field of gold waves softly in the breeze, ripe unto the harvest. Combine harvesters are busy in our area; perhaps this field is next.

I hear stories that God is on the move in the UK, touching hearts, awakening minds, restoring lives.

Ask the Lord of the harvest. Ask him to touch those you know and love. Ask him to use you to help bring in a bumper crop for the kingdom.

Out of the boat!

 

Step out of your comfort zone. Good advice, but oh, how the human heart often yearns to sink back into that safe space where things are familiar and no hard decisions or actions are required.

I am reminded, especially in decisions regarding my mother, that it is in stepping out of my comfort zone that I am enabled to more fully ‘trust in the Lord with all my heart’. Medical and financial decisions are not my forte, and so I am very aware that in making them for her, I do so prayerfully.

Life feels like being in a boat rocking on the rising waves of an approaching storm. Global events are disturbing, often shocking and upsetting. Local situations can also be alarming. Jesus doesn’t advise that we hang on tight in our own spaces, batten down the hatches, and stay safe. Instead, he invites us to step out of the boat and know the exhilaration of walking on the water – turbulent though it may be – with him.

May I live in anticipation of what he will do as I trust in him with all my heart, and don’t lean on my own understanding, which is so myopic and clouded. Today, in whatever I do, may I do it with my eyes firmly fixed on Jesus, who enables me to do much more than I can even imagine.

Gentle

 

A gentle breath of wind rustles the low-hanging twigs from the larch tree, rocking them back and forth. Beyond them, the field of ripening grain stands unruffled in the stillness, golden and tender.

The rowan berries cluster in orange bunches, darkening daily towards the deep red they will reach.

Not a hot August day, but a very pleasant one.

So much to do in the garden; so much to do in the house; so I sit here and contemplate the beauty of creation.

The boundaries for me have fallen in pleasant places, and I am forever grateful to God for his grace and mercy. Praying for all whose peace is shattered by violence and aggression; come, Prince of Peace.  

Rain?

 

‘Aargh, we’re camping this weekend and the forecast is dire.’

‘Why do we live in Scotland?’

‘Raining here, too.’

So went the WhatsApp chat the other day. Then today, ‘Lovely sunny morning here!’

‘Yes, bright sunshine in Edinburgh today!’

‘I’m just back from walking with the neighbour, in the warm sunshine.’

They say the weather is the most talked-about topic in the UK. I think that could be true. But is that a bad thing?

Living where the default weather pattern is pretty similar from day to day, I barely noticed the weather as I grew up in southern California. It was usually wonderful, and I took that for granted. I can remember my shock when, age 19, I visited Europe for the first time. It was summer, yet in Amsterdam we froze, in Edinburgh we dodged the rain and it was only 55 degrees F: how could that be summer?

I love the heat, the sunshine, the warmth and languor of a summer’s day. But variation prevents complacency. It draws my eyes to the heavens – and I do love the drama of the Scottish skies. It keeps me from taking things for granted, and it also connects me more closely to the natural world outside my window.

Now the wind is rising and the clouds are swirling; more change.

Jesus says to his disciples to keep alert, to watch the signs in nature because we are part of it. We can see his hand in his creation.

I thank you, Lord, for keeping my attention.

But now, could you please overrule that forecast, and allow the campers a dry, happy experience?

Empty feeders

 

Empty bird feeders leaning against the trunk of the rowan tree, silhouetted against a pale grey sky. The larder of the landscape provides for our feathered friends during these warmer summer days.

Upstairs, as I sit down at my laptop, I am mesmerised by the aerial display being enacted outside my window by the swallows, swooping and darting, chattering and wheeling on the light wind. Preparing to head south soon, as their food supply begins to wane in these northern climates.

I enjoy the ease of partaking of God’s provision in the Bible. Unlike our bird feeders, it is never empty, but sometimes I am aware that I peck away quickly and don’t extract all the richness his word has to impart. But he doesn’t leave me hungry. The larder in the landscape of my life is full of God’s nourishing truths, encouragements and comforts, too, and even when I don’t linger long enough to really benefit from what He is feeding me in the Bible, still He provides through the words and actions of others I encounter, through the sounds I hear and the sights I see. Give me eyes to see, ears to hear and consciousness to recognise you in my day today, Lord.

I am grateful that God does not restrict himself to one means of feeding his flock, but makes use of even the most unlikely of ways to nourish us. May I be more aware today of the tenderness of my loving heavenly Father (who, I believe, is also revelling in the sheer joy of the acrobatic prowess of these energetic swallows this morning!).

Clean Vessels

 

As summer draws itself to a close, way too early, I am sorting things in the greenhouse, dragging half-full bags of potting compost out of the doorway, hanging tools and stacking plastic pots. Pots and pots and more plastic pots.

There are stores which recycle plastic pots. I just need to wash them, which I am about to do.

Jesus talked about pots. He warned about cleaning the outside only, while inside allowing all sorts of germs to fester and multiply.

He calls for us to live with integrity, clean inside and out. Lord, I bring to you today the dark corners of my heart, my mind, and trust you to cleanse me so that I may be a vessel of life-giving water to any who need. As I wash my way through my stack of dirty pots, may my thoughts and aspirations be cleansed, through the sacrifice of Jesus.

Restore us, your church, so that we may all be vessels of your life-giving water in this thirsty, weary world.

 

Old Toys

 

Old toys.

For years, they’ve lain forgotten. These ones didn’t even make it back into the boxes with all the rest, where they’ve sat forlornly in the attic awaiting the delighted voice of a young child. These ones became mixed in with the various cars and dinosaurs and people and pirates which do come out when the grandkids come.

We separated them awhile ago, so we could reunite them with their teams, prepare them to sit again in the bleachers and watch an exciting match delivered by a kid.

Today, protected by bubble wrap, securely taped into a jiffy bag, they are on a journey to Bearsden to be reunited with their owner, whose wee boy is ready. Soon their wobbly bottoms will sit still, held in place by icing on the top of a 7-year-old’s cake. Soon after that, the rest of the set will reunite and the games will begin again.

Sometimes real people feel forgotten, feel overlooked, separated from those they love and far from where they belong. In the increasing alienation spawned by looking for one’s identity in the confusion of social media, isn’t it time to step back and simplify, to recognise or remind ourselves that the real truth lies not on line but in Jesus, who loves each one of us with an everlasting love, who created each of us to be just who we are, who never gives up on us and never leaves us to languish alone?

Alpha is starting tomorrow night at Banchory West Church, 7 pm for 7.30 free dinner, followed by a short, stimulating video and an opportunity to talk to others about the big questions of life. You can book online, or you can just show up.

None of us are old toys, discarded by a deity who got tired of us. We are all special to Jesus, and he’s ready to throw a real party for all who come to him.

The Party's over - or is it?

 

The party’s over.

Back into a jumper after a couple of heavenly summer-weather weeks in California. Two weeks are enough to slide us towards autumn: we hear it in the cows’ calls; we see it in the spent raspberry canes; we taste it in the ripening blueberries. The day slips into darkness noticeably earlier than when we left. The seasons are on the move, always.

It’s hard to believe that Mom is now into her second century. I hear it in the tiredness in her voice; I saw it in the slowing of her movements and the dimming of her sight. She is slipping away and yet is still very present, able to enjoy a good donut with gusto and nod her head rhythmically as she listens to one of her great-granddaughters play the piano.

I continue to thank God for the joy and privilege of being my mom’s daughter. Her unconditional love has been poured out on all of her family, all of her life. Over fifty people wanted to honour her by coming to her birthday party. Unfortunately, it was too much for Mom, who retired to her room and greeted people in smaller groups. Over the next days, I read out the many cards she received, many of them citing the difference she made in their lives. Nieces with fond memories of her never forgetting their birthday, and always sending a fun card. Camp Fire members of the group she led, recalling the way she guided and encouraged them in developing leadership and other skills. A forever friend grateful for their mutual support as they travel this new territory of old age. A young person grateful for the way she always made him feel like family. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren sending messages and memories.

It's not about a party. It’s about a lifetime of love and selfless giving.

Relationships. Mom has been stellar in building them throughout her life. That hasn’t stopped. Staff at the home speak with smiles of her sense of humour and usually positive attitude.

I don’t know what I am doing, walking Mom home from half a world away, so I lean on Jesus. There are times when Mom and I remind each other that even though we don’t see what’s round the next corner, we are both leaning on someone who does.

And we know that in him, the real party is just about to really begin.

Another day in paradise...

 

Our final few days here, and suddenly I’ve got some admin details to do for Mom, things which challenge me and make me anxious.

What can I do? Don asked.

God has blessed me with a true help-mate, always there beside me, always ready to roll up his sleeves and get stuck into whatever it is – old papers to read through, figures to get into an Excel spreadsheet, emails to write.

I am so grateful to God for blessing me with a wonderful husband, for nearly 49 years.

Today we are driving out to Chino, a long, traffic-filled drive into the hot hinterland, to lunch with my oldest friend, whom I’ve known since we were 8. I will disengage from the nitty gritty of taxes and admin and enjoy this day, the day the Lord has made.

Another day in paradise, my dad used to say every morning. So true. Wherever we live, when we live in love, it’s another day in paradise.

Have a good one.

The Sad Lane

 

We’re in the sad lane. Watching as Mom powers down. Since we’ve arrived, we’ve watched her make heroic efforts to keep awake, to be sociable, while really just wanting to lie down again and sleep. Only a few days left here, and each day we make one or two visits to see her, but generally she is asleep, or wants to be asleep.

It’s hard letting go.

Walking along the sidewalk at Santa Monica beach the other day, we were shuffling slowly behind a group of people when suddenly a cyclist sought a way through the clump of people on the pavement. He wobbled; his bike hit the stone wall and skidded to its side, tipping him off and driving the bike into my knee and ribs. Just a graze, a bruise, nothing serious but shocking nonetheless.

Are you ok? I asked him, rubbing my ribs. He glared at me, mounted his bike and sped off, still on the sidewalk. There was a bike lane two feet away running parallel to us.

My bruises are healing, but I’ve been wondering about him. What drove him to make such an ill-considered decision to bike along a busy sidewalk when there was an empty lane available? What made him glare at me as if it were all my fault to be in his path at that moment? Is he nursing bruises today, or guilt, or pain that drove him that day, and struggles to find expression?

I’d say he’s in a sad lane as well. Maybe we all are, in one way or another. Trying to conceal and live with pains that drive us to make unwise choices, sometimes with consequences.

I am with you always, Jesus whispers. You are never alone, whatever lane you’re in.

Praise him.

 

LA and the Getty

 

The tram glided silently up the steep slope, affording a panoramic view of a smoggy LA from its windows. Arriving at the top, we emerged into a landscape of substantial white buildings, of various shapes and textures, dropped across a white courtyard.

The Getty Center. Without much signage, we were left to wander until we located the main desk and entry. The first exhibition we visited was amazing: small line drawings and paintings of the icy winters in the 17^th century in the Netherlands. We marvelled at the artistry and skill, especially considering their hands were no doubt frozen as they depicted scenes of town life in the frozen landscapes of that mini-ice age.

Climate change has happened before, not on our scale nor for the same reasons, but people have had to adapt to conditions they didn’t recognise.

Inching into the six or seven lane traffic on the 405 south afterwards, we were so aware of our own part in contributing to climate change. After a visit to Santa Monica, the GPS decided to take us on a magical mystery tour of Marina del Rey, Manhattan and Hermosa beach residential streets in order to avoid the congestion on the freeway. Stressful. A big change from Drumoak to Banchory…

Through it all, the Lord blessed us with laughter and companionship. Life is full of poignancy, balancing good times with Don, with diminishing time spent with a worn-out, dear sweet Mom.

On our way to visit her again. Precious times to savour. God bless.

Centenary Party

 

Yesterday, we went down to the shoreline on Redondo Beach, and strolled to the pier. Sat down and just basked in the warm sun, enjoying the laughter and life all around us on this busy summer day.

Then Don noticed he had some tar on his sandals, and his ankle. My trainers were thick with tar, too.

The tar we picked up was under the surface of the sand. We never saw any until we were tarred and sanded. Apparently, it is an organic tar, like that at La Brea Tar Pits downtown LA where so many dinosaurs met their end. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter it in such vast quantities!

Today we headed to a hardware store to get a solvent. We got more than we asked for: a helpful shop assistant who worked hard to find what we needed, gave some helpful advice and then loaned us the screwdrivers from his car so we could work on cleaning them in the parking lot. Jonathan at Ace Hardware, thank you!

Since arriving last Wednesday, we have had many angels helping us prepare for the birthday party on Sunday. Lindy from Ivy Park was exceptional, running (literally) to fulfil our every wish. Nothing was too much, from ice to music to microphones, tables and food warmers, plates and cutlery. A huge thank you to her, and to Ivy Park for being so flexible and accommodating for this large gathering.

And a huge thank you to the care staff, who are also exceptional. They are all so kind, gentle and helpful, compassionate and patient. I am so grateful to know Mom is in such loving care.

Her 100^th birthday party was full of life, laughter, and love. Over fifty relatives and friends came to show their love and gratitude for this wonderful lady. Unfortunately, Mom herself was not feeling up to it all, but was able to receive guests in smaller groups in her room, and she enjoyed that.

Today she was agreeing that it was lovely to have been the reason for a huge family reunion. Relatives and friends came from Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Las Vegas, San Diego, Chino, the valley…all over the place.

I am so grateful to God for the wonderful Mom I am blessed to still have with me. She has always had my back, always been positive and encouraging, loving and forgiving. Her faith in God has been an inspiration and I know her prayers have blessed me with the faith I have.

As she always says, ‘we’re all just doing our best’: Mom’s best has given me a role model and faithful friend. Happy birthday, dearest Mom. Such a privilege and joy to be your daughter.