Blackcurrant Jam or Syrup?

We picked the blackcurrants on Rena’s bushes one evening last week. She is no longer able to get out there and pick them and was worrying about them all going to waste. Our own bush was pretty barren this year, so we arranged to pick hers and make the jam.

Deep breath. I confess I’d been relieved to have a barren bush. Picking, cleaning, making the jam is a lengthy process. But now I had Rena’s currants. Thinking to streamline the work, I used a jam thermometer, rather than testing like I usually do. It’s backfired; the jam reached the required temp away before it was at setting point, and I knew it but I put it in jars anyway. I had to move on to the next thing on my list.

Now, two days later, I’m re-boiling it. There’s only so much blackcurrant sauce one can use.

There’s a proverb (19:21) that states that we make our own plans but it’s God’s purpose that prevails. 

I always have a ‘to-do’ list and I’d ticked the jam off it. Now it’s back on, and I’m stirring a pot of blackcurrant syrup, staring catatonically at the figure of eight. Now it’s boiling. Now I’m testing it. I want to get it right this time.

It’s slowed me down. After a wonderfully busy couple of weeks, I’m tired. Perhaps the Lord will say something amazing to me through the stirring of the jam. Or perhaps he will just bring me into a quiet place where I can rest.

Friends come and friends go ...

Friends come and friends go, but a true friend sticks by you like family. (Proverbs 18:24, The Message)

This is my oldest friend. She has been with me since I was about 8 or 10 years old and travelled the world with me, now living behind the couch in Scotland. We were separated for five years when I was first married, because I couldn’t afford the air fare to get her here from California. Then, returning to Scotland one January in days when planes were not always full, we audaciously carried her on without having purchased her seat. A helpful air hostess put her in a closet on board, and my cello and I were reunited at last.

I don’t play my cello often enough, and when I do, I recognise that I have slipped since the days of daily practice. Yet still much of it comes back to me and I soon get lost in the resonance and beauty of her sonorous voice. 

I of course value my human friends above my cello, but my cello has been with me singing her heart out in great orchestras playing some wonderful music, in small string quartets and in occasional solo spots. She has felt the nervous perspiration on my fingers at times and responded to my sorrowful or joyous heartbeat other times. 

When words fail, there is nothing like my cello.

Music is a gift. A universal gift for which I am grateful.

The Best-Laid Plans

The Scots bard, Robbie Burns, coined that phrase a few hundred years ago in one of his well-loved poems: ‘the best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley’. (Translated: the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.) 

And so it seems. After a hard two weeks away at an exhibition, Don and Jamie drove through the night to get home from the south coast of England, only to break down within fifty miles of Jamie’s home. Hammering along, intent on returning home and getting back into that routine, they were suddenly scuppered, stopped in their tracks and forced to sit for two hours on the roadside awaiting a recovery truck, and then wait several more hours for a replacement van to be found, brought to the scene, and the goods transferred. 

An unwelcome change of plan.

Whereas I – I also had a change of plan, but it was a blessing when a dear prayer partner friend who lives abroad for most of the year came by and we were able to share time together in God’s presence in that intimate way you only do with close friends.

A very welcome change of plan.

The Bible also says things about our plans.  ‘In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps’ it says in Proverbs.

It’s good to have plans. But in this life, it’s also good to be flexible. Who knows what the Lord may have planned for me today? Because Scripture also assures us that God works for good in every situation for those who love him, whatever the day holds, as long as I remain in step with God, it will be good.

Scotch Mist Disruptions

It may sound exotic and mysterious. But as the mist descends ever thicker on the saturated earth beneath, essential landmarks are lost and risks increase.

Awaiting the longed-for arrival of a plane bearing beloved mother and daughter, I am beginning to wonder if they will be able to land. The website for the airport shows many flights cancelled, but theirs, so far, still scheduled. That could mean they are en route, so the prayers now are that they are not diverted to another, less fogged-in, airport, and bussed up. That would not be funny.

The most straight-forward of journeys can so quickly go awry. You look at the timetable and it looks grand. Then the blizzard sweeps in, as it did when I struggled to get home when my dad died at Christmas, and ended up stuck in Newark for four days. Praying there is no major disruption as folks fly in for a wedding.

The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley, as the Scots bard wrote. Proverbs 19:21 says ‘Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.’

I hope his purpose is to get Mhairi and Mom here today. Scotch mist or not.