The Face of God

Green wands with a yellow end, rubber-banded together: each child clutched a bunch and offered them, excitedly, to us. One bunch for Don; one bunch for me. There was nothing remarkable about them.

‘For you, Gramma!’ came the joyful shout. ‘For you, Groucho!’

Flick helped me choose the right vase and we put these green sticks into the water. As the day passed, the daffodils responded to the warmth of the room, opening into the promise of spring.

As I sit here this morning, this spray of glorious yellow trumpets brings a smile to my face. I love this time of year. We stand on the threshold of spring, and everywhere there are signs. Birds sing a new tune. Bulbs spike the ground as they stretch towards the warming sun.

Never mind that the wind carries an icy edge to it today. The promise still stands.

Great is God’s faithfulness. Day follows night. Spring follows winter. Good times follow challenging times. And through it all, God is with us. He is there in the spring and there in the winter.

As I look at these cheerful daffodils this morning, I see the beautiful faces of precious grandchildren, excited to give us gifts. In those dear faces, I see the face of God.

Underneath, the everlasting arms

So, I don’t think I played sharp or flat at the memorial service yesterday. Managed the descant to The Lord’s My Shepherd, once, while the flute soared away with it the other two times. While it’s quite fun to play the tune, the cello is particularly suited for providing that low, sonorous richness which to me offers notes of comfort. 

Underneath are the everlasting arms. Perhaps it’s that, a sense that as low as we can go, God’s arms can always go lower, cradling and comforting and caring. 

The service ended with Great is Thy Faithfulness, and as we played, I remembered that on the same day, January 3^rd, six years ago, my father’s funeral ended with the same wonderful hymn. 

Morning by morning new mercies I see. All that we have, we receive by the grace of God. Every breath we take. 

Underneath are the everlasting arms.

Half a Rainbow

Awoke to a sunny but blustery day, a hint of the summer which is fast fading mixed with the unmistakable announcement that autumn is round the corner.

Down the bottom of the field outside of the living room window, half a rainbow sprouted from the ground. I love rainbows. One of the best things about Scottish weather is the frequency of rainbows.

Inevitably the song is in my head. Somewhere over the Rainbow. The words betray such a poignant longing for a better place, beyond reach, out of sight, hoped for desperately.

I thought of my wee anxieties and they pale into insignificance next to the terrifying situations in much of the Middle East right now. How the displaced, bereaved, wounded and frightened people there must long for ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ as they run for safety and often find nothing but barrenness and emptiness, no shelter, no food, no water. 

Jesus told his friends, that in this world there would be trouble, but not to lose heart because he has overcome the world. Encouraging words to hold on to in times of trouble, but I’m thinking that people in these Middle Eastern catastrophes may well be unable to hold on to any words, even if they do know them. What they really need is the Word to hold on to them. 

When we have times of illness or loss, there can be a numbness that prevents us from remaining faithful even to daily reading and prayer habits. In those times, it is the church gathering round whose prayers uphold the sufferer. 

May we, the church universal, be gathered round those suffering appalling pain and loss and do the praying for them. There is a place, over the rainbow so to speak, and Jesus has gone there before us to prepare it. May the people in dire need today have their hearts comforted by the peace which passes all understanding, so that they may rest and be cared for by the God of the poor.

Give them a full rainbow today, Lord, to remind them of your faithfulness.

To God be the Glory

Blessing upon Blessing

We awoke today to a smattering of snow on the ground, and the sun shining brightly in a blue sky.

Perfect winter weather – roads and sky clear, freezing temps but no wind. Perfect timing for us, as the wedding day last Saturday was mild and dry. 

The wedding day. So many loved ones, friends, new friends, gathered to witness and celebrate the marriage of two wonderful young people. To see our three boys standing together at the front of the Cathedral, resplendent in their kilts, laughing together, and then, just as the bridesmaids appeared at the door of the church, to see Jamie put his arm around Robbie’s shoulder and the two of them bow their heads together in prayer. Words are inadequate for a mother’s grateful heart. 

To sit beside my 89 year old mother, full of anticipation and energy, excited to participate in this third wedding of a third grandson in as many years. To listen to our beautiful daughter as she read the lesson from Ephesians, strong and clear though full of emotion. Words fail me.

To clutch the hand of my dear husband, such a man of integrity and love, generosity and kindness, and blink back tears of thankfulness as I remember the 38 years since we stood at the front of a church and took vows. I catch my breath as I praise the God who brought us together.

To turn round and see friends of many years’ standing, who drove for two hours and incurred expenses in order to support us in our hour of joy. My heart swells with joy and gratitude.

To listen to the words of the pastor spoken so eloquently and personally to this young couple as they embark on the journey of the rest of their lives together, as he prophetically encouraged them to continue waiting on the Lord for the next step. The Lord, who has been so faithful in his pasturing of this young couple. 

Words are inadequate. To God be the glory.

Pack Rats and Blue Birds

I was a Blue Bird, and then a Camp Fire Girl, when I was growing up in California. First there was Day Camp at Camp Suanga, in North Long Beach, which was great fun and included one overnight at the end of the week. I suppose that was to break us young girls in slowly to the excitement of staying away from home, in tents for one or two weeks.

As a Camp Fire Girl I went with my group to Camp Wintaka, in the mountains outside of Los Angeles. We had great adventures and I have happy memories of those trips, those nights under the stars, the songs round the camp fires, the s’mores and pigs in a blanket. 

I never went home empty handed. It might be one or two sugar pine cones which I thought particularly pretty. One time it was a twisted piece of Manzanita wood which I found on the ground. 

My mother still hangs it above the fireplace at Christmas, decorated with elves and festive balls.

Mom and Dad sometimes called me a little packrat, and I guess that characteristic has stuck with me. Whether it is small pine cones and twigs to start a fire with in the winter, or bigger logs to keep it going, or wild raspberries along the lanes or, at this time of year, brambles – my eyes are always scouring the countryside for treasure as I walk Dusty.

It’s a bit early for brambles (black berries) I thought, but yesterday, nearly back home, I discovered a treasure trove of them, swollen and soft with juice, twinkling like jewels in the afternoon sunlight. I zipped home for a plastic box and returned to collect what was there. It’s going to be a fabulous crop of these fruits which make such delicious desserts, combined with apples and a crunchy sweet topping. 

I love the way God gives us different treasures for different seasons. Whatever the season, there will be something special there, waiting to be discovered.

We just need to train our eye to see what the treasure is. We may find it in the most unlikely place. We may not recognise it for a treasure at first; it may take us practice to pick out what is, in fact, a gift from God.

This morning I was ‘hunkered down’ as I walked Dusty. The sky hung low with dark grey clouds. The wind blew strong and sprinkles of fine misty rain sprayed down on me. I tried not to be grumpy but did have a few random regrets that summer is over and here we go again. 

Then I turned the corner, lifted my eyes to the skies, and there was a thinning of the cloud where the sun’s rays were beginning to shine through. A treasure. I could have missed it.

Life is seasonal. Sometimes it is rosy – cloudless skies, abundant fruit, laughter and joy. More often, though, there are some dark clouds scudding through our skies, obscuring the treasures that God wants us to see, to pick up and savour.

Taste and see, the Lord is Good. His mercies are new every morning, and his faithfulness never ends.

I’m not very excited about being compared to a rat, but there is something kind of endearing about being a pack rat. Always looking for treasures, even in the unlikeliest of places.

Faithfulness

Faithfulness is a quaint concept in many people’s eyes. It’s kind of cute when applied to a dog – the epitome of faithful and unconditional love. I only need look at Dusty to think that – on the odd occasion when I’m gone for several hours, she always greets me with pure joy and no hint of reproach. 

It’s hard to see how a loving relationship between a man and a woman can survive, though, without faithfulness. In our 37 years of marriage, I suppose that trusting in my husband’s faithfulness has been one of the rocks, a given, something I never had to question. Had I suspected he was being unfaithful, that would have undermined everything. Yet (if the magazines at the hairdressers are to be believed) it seems that many marriages these days are not only scarred with unfaithfulness but there is sometimes even an expectation that both partners might indulge a wandering eye.

The Bible says ‘Know this: God, your God, is God indeed, a God you can depend upon. He keeps his covenant of loyal love with those who love him and observe his commandments for a thousand generations.’ Deuteronomy 7:9, The Message.

Now that is faithfulness. Dependability. Keeping promises. Remaining loyal. Returning love. God is love, and he can be depended on. 

That’s a rock I can stand on today. How about you?