Little Busy Fingers

A pair of red mittens, left behind by a wee two-year-old who face-planted a puddle on Saturday. Small. But big, by comparison with the little mitts warming the hands of my two-month-old granddaughter in Glasgow, and the one-month-old twins in Dundee. Wool fashioned to warm the beautiful, precious fingers and hands curled inside.

My Native American name as a Camp Fire Girl growing up in California meant Little Busy Fingers. My mother helped me fashion that name from a book of native American words; she knew me well. My fingers, rather bigger now, rather more wrinkled and with joints occasionally stiff, are still busy. Sometimes creatively, sometimes musically, sometimes just doing the work.

I give thanks to God for my hands and fingers, which enable creative expression, which facilitate service, which bring pleasure. God’s creative voice spoke things into being. May his creative voice find expression today through my fingers, through my hands, through everything I am, everything I do. May he bless others through my hands, and through yours.

A Grinning God

Pulling out a Bible buried underneath other reading material in the prayer window, I discovered Thomas the Tank Engine and a toy caravan, neatly parked away. What is for me a place of quiet contemplation is for my grandkids a place of play and fun.

Jesus was accused by his enemies of being a party guy, eating and drinking with some disreputable characters. He was building the Kingdom of God, though, bringing the joy and light of God into all sorts of places, including those which others thought of as places of reverence and quiet contemplation, or places of disrepute.

When I watch a nature programme and see the wild, glorious diversity in creation – from weird and wonderful creepy crawlies (best seen on a screen) to breath-taking waterfalls and plants – I know that the Creator of such spectacular things rejoices in colour and texture and variety. I am sure that when he sat back on that seventh day and saw that all that he had made was good, he grinned and laughed with pleasure.

Creativity

Creativity.

I’ve got an idea for a novel and I’m excited to develop it. Spent the morning trying to visualise the main character. Trying to hear her. Imagining her into being.

I think of writing as fun, but actually, a lot of hard work goes into it.

In the beginning, God spoke creation into being. But he still talks of it as hard work, as he needed time off to recover from the effort.

Praying for some of his creative genius to bless my efforts.