The Detail

Don took away the broken picket fence that divided vegetable patch from grass and flowers. The acer tree which has grown there for thirty-five years can now be appreciated from my bedroom window, and when I rise each morning, I look out and am astonished at its beauty, particularly at that time of day. The light sits gently, subtly, on the sides of the branches and twigs facing eastwards. It’s not spectacular or breath-taking, and yet I am blessed by the beauty of this detail. Every morning I pause and gaze, and am blessed by this detail.

I always thought the acer was an expensive tree because of its glorious show of reds in the autumn, when the leaves blaze forth before dropping. But now, as I look at its still-bare branches, I appreciate the grace of slender branches as they reach upwards, bending here and there only slightly, twisting occasionally in a sort of arboreal dance. Because we rarely prune, there are many branches, intertwining and resting on one another. I am loving the beauty of the bare branches, and am blessed as I gaze. I am blessed by this detail.

Soon there will be leaves. Leaves which will obscure these exquisite branches, I suppose, but I anticipate that I may appreciate a new revelation of another kind of beauty. I will be blessed by a new detail.

‘I have loved you with an everlasting love,’ God declares to us. That is incredible. That he says it to each one of us individually, wherever we are, whatever our history.

Just as the picket fence obscured my view of the acer tree, so my sin obscures my view of God. I am so grateful that Jesus’ redemption has made me dead to sin, so that as he helps me tear down the picket fence of negative and critical thoughts, of perverse and selfish attitudes and ideas, of fear and doubt, my eyes can more clearly discern the beauty of the Lord. I am blessed by the detail.

At some times, I appreciate the light he shines on me and my circumstances. At other times, I appreciate the stark beauty of his sacrifice and love. Still again at other times, I anticipate that I will appreciate the poignancy of his compassion and the agony of his often unrequited love for the world.

As humanity writhes with the pain of pandemic, the confusion of how to combat the virus and how to keep people safe, the moral dilemmas presented by lock-down, may God help us take down the picket fence of sin so that as we stand in confident hope and assurance of a bright future, increasing numbers of the lost and the frightened can see the reason for our hope, can see who stands with us, and why, in the end, there is no need to fear.

In this world, Jesus said, you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.

May the eyes of all be open to this glorious detail.

Squirrelling

It’s that time of year.

When Dusty was alive, I would always carry a bag with me on our walks. I would gather pine cones and twigs to use for lighting fires once the winter set in. I felt like a squirrel, busy storing nuts for those cold winter days.

Summer doesn’t last forever. So important to store up for the days which may be bitter and cold. Nourishment from a storehouse is never so tasty as that freshly picked, but nevertheless, it is nourishment, and it can sustain life.

Heading off soon for two weeks of busyness and emotional challenge, moving Mom again. Mostly I will be drawing on the nuggets of wisdom and encouragement gathered now.  Living close to others, there is little privacy to draw near to God and listen. Only during the nights, when jet lag will probably enable me to snuggle in to my heavenly Father and know his love and peace.

Perspective. I will keep the cross in full view. All else then retains its correct proportion.

Last Roses of Summer

The last roses of summer share their intoxicating fragrance throughout the kitchen/living room. Big, ‘buxom beauties’, their magenta hue and sweet smell make these flowers the queens of my garden. Got them in just before the winter winds strike, forecast for this weekend.

I can’t protect everything that is precious and loved in my life. Husband, children, grandchildren, mother: they all have lives in the matrix of a turbulent and often hostile world, and I am not there with them ( – as if that would make all the difference!).

So I entrust them to God, who loves them all even more than I do. He died for each one. He has plans for each one, plans for good and not for evil. He knows every hair on each head. And he has the power and the will to bring each one through whatever valley they are in and up onto the mountain tops, where their perspective is unrestricted by giants that may threaten on the valley floor.

This morning I give God the glory, totally grateful to Jesus for what he did for us all and to the Holy Spirit who empowers, inspires and guides each of us now. Thank you Lord.

No Masks

In the America of the 1950’s, at least in my corner of the States, every kid dressed up at the end of this month, pretending to be something else. Not everything was scary. When I was 3 I was Little Bo Peep, but the pull-along lamb I had could no longer bleat as I had fed her far too much paper…

One year my costume included a rubber mask. I still remember the clammy heat beneath that awful mask, which clung to my face like a jellyfish, making me sweat and desperate to get it off.

Not sure if that’s the reason, but I just do not like masks. Menacing or not, they disguise the truth of who someone is.

It’s hard to go through life without a mask of some kind, though. Feelings of inadequacy, of guilt or shame all contribute to the gradual construction of a caricature of our faces and personalities which disguises and distorts the person we really are. Once the mask is on, it undermines our true potential and may prevent us from flowering into the beautiful creations God has made and loves.

That is why I am so proud of my dear daughter Mhairi. She has torn off the mask and can now blossom. Jesus came so that we would have life, life in all its fullness. He is the truth, and he is the light, and he calls us to live in the truth and the light. No masks. He loves us for who we are. And it turns out, so do other people.

Much worse than a simple spider

Yesterday I equated a spider in the shower drain with unhealthy, wrong thought patterns which could creep stealthily into my mind and twist and distort my thinking. No sooner had I written that than my daughter Mhairi published her story of assault and abuse. We have talked and cried together about her experience, so none of it was a surprise to me, and yet when I read her story in black and white and looked at the picture of her sweet, lovely  face crumbling in pain, the mother’s heart inside me broke.

The spider lurking down the drain can be memories, horrific or just haunting, which we can’t deal with in our own strength. And so we push them down. Hide them away. Hope that the eight-legged monsters will just disappear, won’t hold us in their webs of pain. I suspect we all have spiders, of various sizes and toxicity, which we fight, with varying degrees of success, to suppress and disable.

There was no spider in my shower last night, so I am keeping the cover firmly over the drain. So trivial compared to trauma, but for me, a picture of a common reaction to deep, deep hurts.

With experiences which distort one’s own self-worth, it’s no good pushing the memory down and covering it over with busyness and distractions. So far, no spider has been strong enough to push the drain cover in my shower off, but with buried memories, some of them are powerful enough to keep pushing up, to keep disrupting, to keep distorting, to keep spinning webs which entangle and hinder the life God blessed us with. It’s just no good trying to keep them down, because they ultimately poison us.

Mhairi is being blessed with many words of encouragement and wisdom and support. May she be protected from some of the vitriol and hate that can appear in social media. One young woman who grew up in an abusive home has shared her story with Mhairi, advising that the only real healing comes through forgiveness. Forgiving yourself for the misappropriated guilt, but also, agonisingly, forgiving the perpetrator(s).

This is such fundamental Jesus wisdom. The only way I know to get that spider out of the drain (the swamp…) of one’s memory is to give it continually to Jesus, asking him to bless with forgiveness.

Jesus came to set the captives free. Memory can be a cruel jailer. My prayer today is that Jesus will set Mhairi, and all the others who have been so traumatised, free. Free from guilt and self-blame. Free from shame and remorse. Free from anger and bitterness. Free to forgive. Free to live, to embrace life in all its fullness.

Jesus is the master gardener who coaxes life from what looks dead. The God of the second chance, the new creation, the resurrection and the life. May he bless all who struggle today under the burden of toxic memories, shining the light of his love into every dark situation.

All I can Be

Watching the green and changing leaves shimmer in the morning breeze outside the prayer window, I catch glimpses of a soft grey sky beyond. Growing up in southern California, there was always a slight ‘feel’ to autumn – liquid amber trees became resplendent in shades of gold and the air became nippy – but my first real encounter with autumn leaves was a year studying at Stirling University. I couldn’t get enough of the vibrancy of the season and spent many hours wandering through woods round the Wallace Monument, breathing in the beauty. I still love this season which is opening up to us now, despite the fact that it heralds the frosts and freezes of winter.

I read a quote from Elisabeth Elliot this morning: ‘A clam glorifies God better than we do, because a clam is being all he can be, whereas we are not.’ Jesus chose to be Immanuel, God with us, because he was being all he could be – which is Love. He could have looked away and let us sink into the mire. He could have opted out rather than hanging in and hanging on the cross. But in so doing, he would have denied the essence of who he is – Love. He glorifies God by being all that he can be. The trees in their autumnal regalia glorify God by being all that they can be. May I, with his help, move in that direction myself today, being all that I can be, all that he made me to be.

A heart that grows two sizes in a breath

Oh, the thoughts I have as I look out my prayer window! This morning I realised that the bushes I trimmed a few weeks back are now throwing up new shoots, and the whole body of the bush is growing up as well. The view has shrunk by about a quarter. It led me to think how easily I can let shoots of thought – many of them selfish, critical, or negative – to grow up and restrict the God-given perspective Jesus wants me to have. It’s easiest to trim out those shoots one by one as they appear, rather than wait until they strengthen into wooden branches of unhelpful thinking.

Having read books for years to my four kids and now some grandchildren, I thought of one favourite – How the Grinch Stole Christmas. While the self-centred Grinch punched the air rejoicing in his presumed success at stealing Christmas from the Whos in Whoville, he was interrupted by the sound of sweet singing where he expected to hear heartbroken wailing. He had assumed that Christmas came in gifts – all of which he had stolen, rather than understanding that it is a Gift, and that Gift is love. And ‘his heart grew two sizes that day’.

The errant branches were pruned away and the Grinch could see clearly. The vision was breath-taking, transformative and life-giving.

May I recognise the errant branches in my mind today and prune them off as soon as they tempt me to think selfishly, critically, or negatively. Scripture declares we have the mind of Christ – but only as we work with the Holy Spirit to develop it. I long for his perspective, not my own, for in him only do we have fullness of life and are we set free from thoughts which rob us of our peace, compassion and love.

God is always God

A walk in the mist. After days of blue skies every morning, it seems odd to be shrouded in grey. But having enjoyed such blue skies, I am confident that I know what lies above that grey mist: pure blue sky. And I know that when the mist rises, I will, again, see blue sky.

When I live with a thankful heart, I am aware of the close presence of a loving God. When things happen, then, which seem to obscure his presence, I am confident that though he is hard to see, he is nevertheless always there, always loving me. Circumstances change and the mist rises, and God is always God, always good, always for me.

Pheasant or Buzzard?

I opened the curtains onto a new day, a new world, less soggy and drippy than yesterday, with the welcome sun making a comeback and smiling out of a blue sky. On the fence post next to the manure hill sat a big bird. I could only see its silhouette because of the position of the sun, so wasn’t sure if it had the colours of the pheasant which often warms its feet in the manure. 

I continued to watch, sure that pheasants don’t usually perch on fence posts, but neither do birds of prey usually come so close to our home. Still only a silhouette, the bird turned slightly and I was pretty sure I glimpsed a hook in that beak. Still unsure, I waited, eventually realising I would only really know what it was when it moved. So I opened the window, slightly startling the calm bird, and he looked my way (I think) and then dropped gracefully from the fence post, skimmed the ploughed field and rose to the height of the telephone pole to resume its reverie. A buzzard, not a pheasant.

People reveal who they really are only when they move, too. Jesus said his disciples would be known by their love. Love is a verb, and is revealed in action. We can claim all kinds of things, but the litmus test is who we are towards others, and how we show that.

Terra Infirma

Recently it was explained to me that the earth’s crust undulates, pulled this way and that by pressures exerted on it. Contrary to my assumption that terra firma really was terra firma (apart from tectonic plate shifts causing earthquakes), it seems it is terra in-firma. Changing all the time, sometimes subtly shifting, sometimes spectacularly shaking. Not, then, to be fully trusted. 

I hear the news, and my emotions are pulled this way and that. I find tears come readily when I hear stories of Syria. My heart bleeds when I hear of another mass shooting in a school in the US, and the response of some people in power. My heart breaks when I see a picture of the face of a shell-shocked Marine during the Vietnam War. My generation. And then my spirit soars when I celebrate a family birthday, when I play goofy games with a three-year-old precious granddaughter, or build blocks with a couple of one-year-old grandsons. My heart swells when my kids get involved in making this a better world through lobbying, through praying, through helping the poor, through loving in spite of everything. 

Jesus said to be alert to the signs of the times. Perhaps every generation since Jesus has seen the wars and atrocities, the violence and abuse and injustice, and reckoned the end was coming soon. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn’t. 

My job today isn’t to worry about what’s happening tomorrow, but to love without ceasing, drawing on the Spirit to inspire and fuel that love. To walk in the Light, towards the light, shattering the darkness and bringing reconciliation. As He enables me, I can speak shalom.

Perhaps the world is terra infirma, but God isn’t. He is faithful, and he is love. And he never changes.

Anticipation

Anticipation. Preparation.

Some of the fun of having visitors is anticipating their arrival. Preparing their rooms. Planning and fixing food. Lighting the fire, and warming or chilling the wine.

As I chopped onions this morning and peeled a pile of shallots, I sensed myself tensing up and wishing the work were all finished. I stopped myself and put on a praise CD, reflecting on a half-heard story which suggested that the taste of the finished food reflects the attitude of the chef: if it is prepared in love, it will be delicious. If it is prepared in haste and impatience, perhaps there might be a bitter aftertaste.

I don’t honestly believe that: I’ve seen Gordon Ramsey’s fiery temper in the kitchen and am sure his food doesn’t leave a bitter after-taste! But perhaps as I try to create the perfect ambience, I might spoil it if there is an air of exhaustion hanging over the kitchen!

 

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it as if you’re doing it for the Lord. One of Solomon’s wise proverbs. When I think of who I’m making soup and fish pie for, my heart sings, and whether or not the food tastes better, I know that I will have a cheerful face to greet the guests rather than a strained and tired one.

I’m really looking forward to sharing food with much loved family. Happy weekend!

Footprints

Giant reptiles left their mark on the earth millennia ago. Unusual conditions hardened their footprints so that we could gape at them in the natural history museum, marvelling at their size, wondering where they were going at that point – chasing a prey or fleeing a predator?

We hear a lot about our carbon footprints these days. Not a good mark to leave behind. A better souvenir is to leave footprints of love on the hearts of our friends, our family, and even the strangers we meet today. Those footprints are as timeless as those of the dinosaurs. 

May the source of all love, our Lord Jesus Christ, fill you and me with his love today so that we can walk in love, leaving footprints of grace on the hearts of those we know and meet.

All we need is love, and a little help from our friends...

Full of promise, this amaryllis was saved from neglect in the greenhouse and brought into the warmth of the living room. I am excited to see it bloom once again, as it did last year.

But the other night I knocked it off the table onto the floor and wouldn’t you know, the giraffe-neck stem bent over. Instantly Don sprang to my aid and we found a splint, gave it a good restorative drink (just water...) and leaned it against the kitchen cupboard for added support.

Two days later and it is continuing to grow and open. Soon it will be glorious.

We all get knocks in life. We all need splints in the form of good friends and family to put us back together. And when we get such help, we can still bloom, still emit our own sweet fragrance into this beautiful world. 

Jesus said, Love one another, because love is from God. Love. All we need is love. And a little help from our friends...

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.