Vivid Dream

I boarded the aircraft and was directed to a sort of jump seat in the cockpit. The pilot was there pushing buttons and things. I was really excited, though I also had a vague sadness tugging at my emotions, a sadness about leaving and going away.

I was just settling down when something made me realise that I had no passport. I engaged in a frantic search but to no avail. The pilot looked sympathetic but said it was just five minutes to take off. I rushed off the plane thinking I would get a quick passport picture taken and then realised that of course I needed all the accreditation that goes along with a normal passport. 

Mixed with the sense of disappointment (think I was on my way to Paris) was relief that I was not leaving loved ones behind. I woke up to ponder the meaning of this dream.

This morning I read Galatians 4:6. ‘You are adopted by God. God sent the spirit of adoption into your hearts, so that you would call out loudly, “Dad, Father!” 

I don’t need a passport to enter the Kingdom of God. Or rather, I do, but he is the Holy Spirit who lives in me. A sort of biometric passport to attest to my credentials.

I don’t have to disembark after all.

Stop and stare

Feeling a tiny bit smug today, because yesterday for the first time in over a year I spent about two hours working outside in the garden, with no detrimental effects to my back. I have missed it – though a little of it goes a long way with me.

I’ve had a year of avoiding any kind of exertion which would strain the prolapsed disk, so being unable to garden freed up lots of time to do other things. Hmm. Maybe I could have written a novel during that spare time. But I didn’t.

It’s been six months since my dear dog Dusty died, six months without those twice daily walks which I sometimes found a chore, though more often than not enjoyed. I miss my spontaneous laughter from seeing her exuberant antics. I don’t miss walking in the foul weather but to be honest, despite its reputation, the northeast of Scotland has many many days of glorious beauty. 

Maybe I could have written another novel during the time freed up from dog walking. But I haven’t.

The Protestant ethic teaches us to make productive use of our time, and I know I am certainly influenced by that ethic. Mhairi once gave us a poem about having the time to sit and stare. My dad used to tell me to take time to smell the roses. Jesus praised Mary for choosing the better way in taking time to sit at his feet and absorb his presence and his teaching rather than being harassed and grumpy in the kitchen. 

For those who are blessed with choice of how we spend our time, may we choose to spend it wisely, not always seeking to prove our worth by what we have made, written or done, but taking time to sit and stare, to smell the roses, to listen to our Lord and enjoy his presence.

Have a great day.

Hogmanay

The annual Scottish revelry for New Year’s Eve – Hogmanay - has passed for another year. The night of conviviality with neighbours, strangers, friends and family, of ‘First Footing’ and Auld Lang Syne, fireworks and fire balls and whisky galore. 

The wind is fierce this morning but the sun is bright and full of cold promise.  It’s a day of beginning to take down the tinsel and cards, the tree and decorations – though I intend to leave the bulk of it until tomorrow. Don is walking Dusty as my foot is no better yet, so it’s getting a day off.

And today would have been my dear Dad’s 89^th birthday. There was a piece on the radio this morning by a guy who started working at age 10 or so delivering newspapers. That was an appropriate piece on Dad’s birthday, as many a time I heard stories of the exploits of Dad and Uncle Gordie delivering papers from the age of about 8, biking up and down the hills of Lomita, 15 miles for each route, and having to get up at 4 am to fold the papers first. 

It was a different era. People worked very hard, but there was also that freedom from the anxiety of violence against children, so that children could run free in cities as well as rural locations. 

So into a new year.  Full of promise and plans. Full of the unknown delights. Full of hope and faith in the God who never leaves us alone, no matter what the year has to offer.

Thankfully.