Change is Coming

A white chiffon curtain suspended from heaven early this morning, shrinking our horizon and shrouding the hills. Gradually the weak winter heat of the sun has dissolved it and as it disappeared, white-topped hills appeared, etched against a blue sky. And now, nearly noon, and a stillness, welcome after so many days of wild winds, embraces us. Birds trill their songs; the icy snow from yesterday melts from the tops of the bushes, and the slush on the drive evaporates.

Everything changes. Some changes I see coming; some will surprise me. Some will delight me; others I will resist.

Jesus, though, is the same, yesterday, today and forever. He is the Rock on whom I stand. He is the anchor in the storm. He is the root to which I am grafted in. Though changes come, he will never change. He will be there for me today, tomorrow, and forever.

So grateful for that security. So grateful for his peace.

Swimming in the Matrix

I struck off across the width of the pool. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Only the deep end was open to swimmers as the shallow end was taken up with a parent/child swimming class. So no lane swimming. Whew. Only widths. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I am not a confident swimmer. I have always struggled to really believe I am not going to sink. I have signed up for lessons, determined now, as I approach my four score and ten, that I will conquer the fear and learn to trust. Trust that my body is buoyant. Trust that a few simple movements are enough to keep me afloat. I don’t need to flail. Flailing exhausts me and stalls my progress.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Forty times in as many minutes. Back and forth and over and out.

Next week I will seek to increase that number. But for now, forty widths is good. I am getting stronger.

I am learning to trust.

Commit your way to the Lord, the Psalmist advises. Trust in him.

It is the Lord who keeps me afloat. The Lord who directs my steps. The Lord who gives me breath and blesses me in a thousand ways every single day.

Swimming in the matrix of the Lord, I will not sink. He will help me to persevere; he will transform my mind and soften my heart; he will enlighten and inspire me by his Holy Spirit.

I am so grateful.

I lift my eyes

The dampness clamped right down to the ground. A watery sun suggested itself beyond the mist, hints of better things to come.

Meanwhile, we shivered as we walked, admiring the beauty of spider webs stretching between spiny thorns on the gorse lining the road. Starlings lined up on the overhead wires or swooped in synchronised exactitude above the harvested fields. Cows occasionally broke the stillness with their autumnal braying. What’s that all about?

Beneath our feet, leaves mouldered in soggy piles or shrivelled in crispy isolation. Pine cones brought down by Saturday’s wind sprinkled across the tarmac.

The nights are drawing in. A light frost shimmered on the grass yesterday morning. Autumn is here.

When engaged in unpleasant tasks, I find it so helpful to focus on the glories of this beautiful world God has given us to live in. I am so grateful to live in peace. So grateful to have friendly neighbours. So grateful for loving family, the NHS, good health, abundant food, flowers in a vase in front of me.

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help is in the name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. Praise him.

Every challenge is an opportunity

My Buxom Beauty Rose is fading. Petals fall when the table is nudged. Its days are numbered.

But the heady perfume remains, bringing a smile to my weary face.

There is a time for everything. Every ending heralds a new beginning. Ours is a God of hope, of life and light and love. Every problem signals an opportunity to see our sovereign Lord display his mighty hand.

The joy of the Lord is our strength. Walking towards the sunset, we know that we will never be left in the dark.

I am overwhelmingly grateful.

Family

‘No I don’t like blackcurrant jam because it reminds me of being sick as a child, when Mum would give us hot blackcurrant to drink.’

‘I love blackcurrant jam because it reminds me of being a child. The flavour is so robust.’

Family. Yesterday it was the family of a group of lovely ladies who share life together, looking at the Bible, praying, worshiping. We are from different spots around the globe, different ages, different experiences in life, different points on the journey of faith, and what a richness that brings to our gatherings.

What we have in common is God. Our love for him, our curiosity about what he’s said and done, of what he’s saying and doing right now, our need for him.

We are all broken vessels, every one of us a cracked pot. In our biological families and in our church families, we see things differently but we are one in the blood we share. Jesus’ blood, who died for us. In our biological families, our parents’ and grandparents’ blood. We are linked, joined.

We may not always agree. We may not always be as genial and happy as we were yesterday, eating pumpkin and pecan pies and sharing what we felt especially thankful for. But we are one, one in Christ, linked, joined. The family of God.

For that I am so grateful.

Let them come!

Let the children come to me, Jesus said.

Toddlers staggered around clutching sippy cups; pre-schoolers danced around with excitement; babies gurgled or fussed or slept. Church gathered for the dedication of one of our precious grandchildren.

I sat in the second row, husband on one side of me, youngest son on the other. In front of me sat the other two sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren. We sang a new chorus, new to me anyway, expressing a sentiment that although I look like I’m surrounded by troubles, God is surrounding me. There was a physical gap where Mhairi would have loved to be sitting, but I know that in spirit she filled that gap. So there I sat, on Mothering Sunday, surrounded by my tribe, surrounded by God. Gathered to pray a special blessing on the youngest grandson. Gathered to celebrate life, love, and the Lord.

Watching my boys, the brothers, cuddling each other’s children, playing with them, rocking them to sleep: I needed no gifts or cards or sentiments (though I did receive them! – thank you!).

Let the children come to me. And they did. Profoundly grateful.

So grateful

I’ve heard it said that thankfulness is the Christian form of mindfulness. As I begin to count my blessings this morning, I feel myself slowing down. My perspective on life shifts. I muffle the shriek of the urgent as I contemplate the bounty of my life. 

I give thanks for my health. The blips I have are compassionately and skilfully handled by our amazing NHS, as I said in my last post. That blog gained a much bigger readership than normal which reveals the appreciation we share for the wonderful health service we enjoy here. 

I give thanks for my family. I am so grateful for a loving husband, always kind and caring, with a heart of compassion and a zeal to work against injustice of all kinds. I am grateful for four amazing ‘kids’ who live out their faith in various significant ways, each with his/her own stamp of personality on whatever they do. I rejoice in five beautiful grandchildren, one still on the way, one already with Jesus, and three lovely wee ones with joy bursting from each one of them. I am blessed to still have my dear Mother at the end of the phone, still knowing who I am and still up and healthy and living a full life. 

I give thanks for my church family. Amazing people of all ages and walks of life, coming together to do life together, passionate for Jesus and for being his hands and feet in our hurting community and world. So grateful.

I rejoice to see a bit of sun this morning, holding out the hope that tomorrow’s BBQ may not be under canvas or in the garage as we dodge bullets of rain from on high! But if we do dodge rain, we will laugh and enjoy each other just as much.

There is so much to be grateful for here in this beautiful country of Scotland, where peace reigns and we have plenty of food and water (!!). So grateful to live in the UK, even with all its growing pains and struggles. 

Praying that in all I do and say today I will be an ambassador for Jesus, bringing a bit of light into the dark places.

Reflections on a Facial

Never mind what my skin looks like (within reason...), the pleasure of being pampered with a facial and head massage because people who love me gave me this oasis as a gift was wonderful. I rushed into the salon having taken a sick cat to the vet first. Since snow was a possibility, I was wearing my usual heavy layers of clothes – vest, two jumpers, gloves, scarf, the lot. To peel that all off in a warm environment, with some sort of meditative music softly playing, was liberating. Then to have the beautician tell me to relax for the next 45 minutes gave me liberty not to make conversation. I could just lie there and receive. 

It may be better to give than to receive, but receiving can be pretty nice, too! A grateful heart, and some rehydrated skin.

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.

Road Closed

Thought I’d pop into a garden centre and purchase three tomato plants for the conservatory. It wasn’t far from where I’d met friends for coffee.

However, the road I needed to take was closed. I followed diversion signs...for miles. Finally I turned north where I thought I needed to go, only to find the next road I needed was also closed. So I headed east and wondered where I was.

I wasn’t under pressure of time and was able to appreciate the lovely skies and countryside as I drove a good half hour extra just to get these three tomato plants. They better produce now!

It was more of a journey than anticipated. Life is often more of a journey than anticipated. It has dips and curves and Road Closed signs that send us onto unexpected and often unpleasant diversions. 

So important to make that journey with the Saviour. So thankful that he never leaves nor forsakes us. So grateful.

Ring a Ding Ding

The telephone rang about an hour after we returned from my friend’s house where Mom, Mhairi and I had enjoyed coffee and a chat. 

“Have you lost a ring?”

My mother looked at her hand and gasped. Her sapphire ring given to her by Dad several years ago was not on her finger. She’d not noticed it missing until then.

Within an hour, my friend’s husband was at the door, beautiful ring in hand. The hero of the hour. He’d returned from a game of golf and seen the ring lying on the hall rug. 

No doubt it had slipped from her finger as she removed coat or gloves, her fingers smaller in this cold than they are in the heat of Long Beach. 

It could just as easily have slipped off in a restaurant yesterday, or at the wedding venue last week, and been lost to her for good.

Mom and I remembered a few years ago when the diamond slipped out of its setting in my engagement ring while I was visiting her. We had prayed about it and started scouring the house for the stone. Within minutes I saw it lying on the kitchen floor, precariously close to the gap under the fridge door. 

Sometimes we consciously enlist God’s help in finding lost items. Other times he rides point on our lives, putting right things that have gone wrong before we even realize it.

This time, he spared Mom from the anxiety and upset of thinking she’d lost such a precious item of jewellery. 

Jesus told stories about lost things – a sheep, a coin, and a son. In each of these stories, the hero of the hour is God himself, who leaves no stone unturned in seeking to find and save that which is lost. His love drives him on to save what is lost at incredible cost to himself.

I am so grateful, and as we head towards our celebration of Thanksgiving tomorrow (a few days early), one of the autumn leaves on our Thanksgiving tree will no doubt be giving thanks to God for finding what was lost.