Eternal Roots

Back in the prayer window, gazing southwest across the valley. Most of the orange and yellow leaves have dropped from the Norwegian elm, blown off by winds and pelted off by rain while we were away. Scolty Hill is clearly visible again through the bare branches. Nobbles on the tree trunk, unique and beautiful, are revealed.

My dear Mom. Many of the traits I associate with her have dropped now, in her 96^th year. But clearly visible is her grateful, loving heart, her deep faith, the beauty of her soul.

Autumn is a beautiful season. Poignant and heart-breaking as it is to watch familiar traits disappear, when the trunk is sound and strongly attached to the roots of the Lord, the beauty is achingly awesome.

I am so grateful that whatever the future holds, we will always be connected through those eternal roots.

In Training

We strode out in some of our new hiking gear, headed up Scolty as part of our training for the pilgrimage walk we will be making in a few weeks. We needed to catch our breath a couple of times on the ascent, enjoyed the view briefly, and then headed down. Four km in an hour. Could we do five times that length, day after day? Hopefully so.

I remember hearing golf described as a good walk ruined. A pilgrimage is more than the physical exertion of journeying. It should provide mental and spiritual space for rest, contemplation, and renewal. For that to happen, we need to be strong and have the stamina to endure the physical challenge so that our minds and spirits can soar, and not be tethered to the ache of our thighs or the rubbing of blisters. I don’t want our pilgrimage to end up being a good meditation ruined.

Paul talks about the spiritual life requiring training and discipline. It’s tricky building those elements into our already busy schedules, but hopefully as we discipline ourselves to undertake regular physical and spiritual training, we will position ourselves to benefit from a close encounter with our Lord.

Buon camino!

Bare trees and pruning

The trees outside my window stand denuded, prepped for winter’s icy grip. Bare branches twist and intertwine: they’ve lost the beauty of the autumn finery that now lies mouldering on the damp ground.

For several months, my vision has been circumscribed by those leaves, and now that they are off, I can once again see Scolty and Clachnaben, two distinctive hills to the southwest of us. 

Sometimes our vision is limited by pleasant surroundings which draw our attention, and we miss the grander picture. 

One of my tasks today, if there is time, is to chop the beautiful rose bushes in half. I hate doing it because they are still in bloom, but the forecast is for snowy winds later in the week and I don’t want them buffeted and blown about, loosening the roots which anchor them in tight. Pruning isn’t pleasant, for rose bushes or for people, but un-pruned we are more vulnerable and weaker.

And there is the promise of spring. Renewed life. The bigger picture.

Happy Monday.

Firesides or Fireballs

Here we are at another Hogmanay, as they call it in Scotland. The end of one year, on the threshold of another, with all its promise. 

It’s been a busy year in the Morrison clan and we are all feeling a bit weary. I’m writing this by a fireside, watching the flickering flames and enjoying some real old-fashioned vinyl records on the record player. 

We walked Dusty round Scolty Hill this morning. It was pleasantly mild, the gale force winds from earlier having died away. A good way to bid adieu to the year.

What I crave is a few hours contemplation, looking back, looking forward. Like the old Roman god Janus (from whose name we get the name of the first month of the year). God bids us to remember what he’s done in our lives, which fuels our hopes and plans for the future.

I am tempted to see the new year in beside this crackling fire, but the others are thinking of heading to Stonehaven to the ancient Viking fireball ceremony. It is supposed to be a dramatic way of seeing out the old and welcoming in the new year, and with its inherent dangers it may soon be relegated to history as health and safety issues intervene.

So, what does 2013 hold for us all? Firesides or fireballs? 

Probably a bit of each. God bless you in 2013.

Finishing Well

Our old friend Willie finished well a couple of days ago. 

He came to the healing and refreshing service on Sunday afternoon, and enjoyed the peace of God that was tangible during that hour. He was telling me about his upcoming heart operation in a few weeks in London, and how his plan was to recuperate and climb the local hill, Scolty, next summer. I said I’d go with him, and I’m sure a lot of his friends would have.

He celebrated his 91^st birthday on Tuesday with his family. And in the night, he slipped away. Quietly, peacefully. 

He certainly never let age nor increasing decrepitude hold him back. Even in these last few weeks he was often to be found with his hands plunged in dishwater after a congregational lunch or coffee time. He was a faithful befriender and visitor of those still shut in. He helped serve lunch every Saturday at one of the care homes. He worked tirelessly on behalf of Alzheimer’s sufferers and their carers. He did it all with a smile and a self-deprecating laugh.

Lord, may I finish my race as well as Willie did. He was a true inspiration.