More Baguettes

Baguette blog part 2. Between three of us, we managed to eat 3 out of 4 baguettes at dinner and breakfast. Somehow, when baked as a standard loaf, that amount of bread would last at least two or three days, but when sausage shaped and crunchy, we gobbled it up in half the time and I’ve got more bread in the machine for today!

Was it worth the hours of fussing around timing risings and reshaping, resting, punching down, and so on? Yes. Change is good. It may be the same recipe, yet it tasted different.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. This is the day that the Lord has made.

These days of lock down can be Groundhog Days. Monday can be the same as Friday or Sunday. With a bit of effort, though, the days, like bread dough, can be reshaped and then, somehow, taste different. Present a different experience.

We have introduced one night a week as a sharing night. One week we each chose a favourite piece of music, listened to it and then explained why it was special to us. One week we shared a poem, again expanding on it to relive our first encounter with it, telling what it spoke to us maybe at a past point in our lives, maybe even now. This week we hope to have a trip down memory lane with some home movies (if the old projector still works). I’ve heard of others who are dressing up for a meal once a week or so and having a date night in.

Obviously this is no good if you are locked down alone, but Zoom encounters and skype calls can also reshape time so that our days have variety and interest, re-shaping a day and expanding horizons.

Jesus came to give us life in all its fullness. In our normal, unlocked-in world, that fullness can look like a busy schedule of work and relationships and sporting activities and concerts or plays.

How often in the past I have wished that the world would stop for a day so I could catch up with things! It has stopped now for two months, and I am realising that I don’t want to just get all the jobs done. I also want to enjoy every day.

We still have the same gift of life, the same amount of time, but it sits like a ball waiting for us to choose how to shape it today. Will your day be a plain loaf or a braided brioche or a simple baguette?

Tectonic Plates

A glorious sunny morning with that autumn chill in the air. The farmer is down the field, closing a gate: perhaps our bovine neighbours are trudging back to bring joy and pleasure to wee Flick when she visits next.

Seasons. Seasons of life. Tomorrow we celebrate the second birthday of our precious granddaughter Felicity. She is a joy and a treasure whom we love so much and in whom we delight. 

We give thanks to God for life. It is a priceless gift and in some ways is robust, and in some ways fragile. We are living through a poignant time of joy and a time of grief. I am thinking seasons but I am also thinking contrasts, the jarring nature of having two such seasons so closely juxtaposed. It’s a bit like tectonic plates meeting, causing earthquakes and pushing up volcanoes. Does that make sense?

We navigate these days tentatively, filled with joy and love at the birth of our new grandson wee Callan, almost three weeks old now. He is another treasure and a precious one in the family and a reason to celebrate and give thanks. At the same time we mourn the loss of wee Elias, who we will know when we all see Jesus face to face. We had hoped to hold him and love him too, watch him grow and enjoy him. It is hard, even when our hope is in Christ and we know that in him, all is well. 

So on we go, through the seasons, battle-scarred and weary and yet also rejoicing and giving thanks. 

May we all be blessed as we continue to put our hope in God and even though we don’t understand, we know he is always good, and that he loves us.

Live Large

I have had an unusual day, hitting one of the sales and replenishing some of my tired wardrobe (will that help my tired body?). I was also looking for a special wedding present which I didn’t quite decide on, but it was a very pleasant morning.

Came home and did a bit of sprucing up of the pots of flowers for the winter, and while throwing out the detritus I ended up by Dusty’s last resting place. It is a lovely spot, overlooking the field but the long view takes in the hill over Banchory called Scolty. The Hill of Fare also looms large-ish and grounds this area in Scottish history. Maybe Mary Queen of Scots stood here while watching the rout of the Catholic faction in a decisive battle a few hundred years ago.

But I digress.

While pausing by Dusty’s grave, I reflected on the joy she brought me during her life. She was a dog who lived large. Undeterred by a particularly nasty leg break at 7 weeks old, her speed when chasing a ball (or a deer for that matter ;-( ) was remarkable. She derived ecstatic happiness from leaping with complete abandon into any body of water into which someone obligingly threw a stick or two. 

I have spent many happy moments laughing like a lunatic perhaps as she raced and sprang into the loch at Crathes Castle or the River Dee. She didn’t pause to consider any possible reasons for not leaping with such commitment, to her shocked bruising one winter when a certain person who shall remain unnamed mischievously tossed a stick onto the frozen loch...ouch!

Factoring in the ice, or any other hazards, just did not occur to nor hinder Dusty. Just a week before her death, she managed half a walk at Crathes Castle, wading in after sticks with the same determination but with an unobliging body which gave her much grief for a couple of days afterwards in the form of stiffness. Her spirit remained strong and her joie de vivre only evaporated over her last weekend.

It’s a bit odd taking a lesson from your dead dog, perhaps, but I am. I want to live my remaining days LARGE. I want to throw myself into whatever project I feel called to do with total commitment. I don’t want to hang back hesitating, considering the possible problems. I don’t want to live by the guidelines of proper Health & Safety procedures but by the guidelines of God, whose Word (the Bible) is a lamp to my feet, guiding me through the sometimes dark present into the unknown future. 

His Word confirms that we have been given a spirit of boldness and not timidity. 

So, thank you Dusty for living so large and leaving the memory of that as a real legacy for me. I just need to keep receptive to other sources of joy and laughter which abound in each of our lives.

Thank you God, for such a gift of life, and thank you Jesus for coming so that we might live life to the full in the power of your indwelling Spirit.

Dawn Chorus

A blanket of grey obscures the sun this morning, but there is a hint of a promise that the sun may poke through at any moment. 

As I walked, I sang my praises to God, aware that I was adding my voice to the chorus already raised by the birds. Just one more voice, blending into the rest. Indistinguishable. Loud or soft. Off key or harmonious.  A cacophony or a chorus, depending on your graciousness.

But to God, it isn’t a cacophony nor a chorus. He hears every individual voice, and each one is precious to him. He loves to hear a joyful sound, a voice raised in gratitude to him for who he is, and for all he has done. A voice raised in joy for the gift of life, for the miracle that is in itself. 

If a voice is silent, he misses it. He longs to hear every voice singing out to him. “For the Lord takes delight in his people.” (Psalm 149) “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” (Psalm 150)

God is so good. He is so loving. Even when I sing off key. Even if the song is one of sorrow, or regret, or pain. He longs to hear my voice. He longs to hear yours.

It may look like there is a blanket of grey obscuring God from view, but just wait. He is about to poke through, probably when you least expect it.