Another summer day

Another summer day. Where I come from, one might observe that it was another rainy day. We seem to remember the rare days more clearly than the usual fare. Or do we? Maybe it’s the other way around – we remember the traumas more clearly than the triumphs. Or ... 

We choose what we remember. We choose what we notice. Today I choose to remember the good. The crossword this week asked for a word which meant the tune played above a ‘ground bass’. Not sure what that even means and we didn’t get the word (yet). But whatever the word, I think the ground bass is the everyday stuff, some of it negative, which drones on through life. We can choose to hear the glorious melody rising above it, to join in and sing with it, or we can focus on that blinking bass. 

I’m going for the melody. That’s what Jesus did. Boy did he ever have an ominous ground bass grinding away through those last three years of his life but in the Gospels we are blessed to see his joy, his light, his life. 

I’m going for Jesus. With his help.

Tipsy Angel

The tree’s only been up a few days and already the spiky top is leaning over, the angel perched precariously as though she might pitch sideways at any moment. Pine needles haven’t yet begun to rain down on the carpet though. 

Preparations for the big day are in full swing. Cards are mostly sent, some meaningful, some funny. Decorations are up. Cake is made. Cookies are underway, and their production will no doubt take up hours over the next few days. And a few more presents to buy, a little more food to purchase.

What would be nice, right smack in the middle of the week before Christmas, would be a full day’s retreat. A retreat from the bustle and hustle of it all in order to reflect on the meaning of the day, take stock of the year which has past, anticipate and pray about the year to come. 

I don’t see it happening this side of Christmas. But I hope that between the holidays I will make space for such a pause. 

God calls us to remember what he has done. It gives us strength and hope for the future, when we remember the wonderful things he has done in the past. 

Whatever this season means for you, be it happy or be it blue, I pray that you will allow yourself space to reflect with God.

We don’t want to waver like the tipsy angel atop the tree, in danger of pitching forward or backward. 

Memories

Once upon a time, long, long ago, my older sister Judy and I hitch-hiked round Europe for three months. We were truly innocents abroad, and the good Lord had his watchful eye upon us because remarkably, apart from a couple of uncomfortable moments, we had no problems. 

We had a rough plan of where we were going and had made bookings in the youth hostels or YWCAs in the big cities, and our travelling ‘Bible’ was Frommer’s Europe on $5 a day. Incredibly, we often could survive on less than $5 a day. 

Our parents had instilled in us a fascination for Europe. Their favourite pages in the LA Sunday Times were in the travel section, and my mother often cut out and filed articles about places or hotels, for future use. They were the generation who survived the Great Depression in the US in the ‘30s, and the second world war, and finances had never stretched to enabling them to travel to Europe themselves.

So Judy and I felt like their eyes and ears, and often we would say things like, ‘Mom and Dad would love this’. When we returned to California, tired and ready to be taken care of for awhile, we developed our slides, put our souvenirs in scrapbooks and tried to share with Mom and Dad the joys of our trip. 

I still remember the feeling of quiet disappointment when I would see them glazing over as we reminisced, often in fits of laughter, about various episodes of the trip. I had thought they would be hanging on our every word, but having watched other people’s slide shows and heard their stories many times since, I now understand. Hearing about someone else’s experiences, however interested you are and however exciting they may be, is just not as enthralling as it is for those who were there.

One of the bereavements I’ve felt since Judy’s death is the loss of my travelling buddy, and the sadness of not being able to connect with her anymore in knowing looks and laughter as we might recall certain incidents of the trip.

God instructs us to remember the big events of our spiritual journeys. I’ve always thought of that as being important for us in our life of faith, so that when we are in tough times, perhaps, we buoy ourselves up with recollections of God’s constancy and faithfulness. 

But in a relationship, both parties take delight in recalling high points in their lives. Judy and I loved sharing our memories. Don and I frequently laugh over events during our lifetime together. The grown-up ‘kids’ enjoy trips down memory lane as we pull up shared experiences. 

And so with God. I no longer think he calls us to remember certain things just for our own good. I think he invites us to linger with him and laugh as we recall momentous events in our own spiritual journeys. My moment of being born-again in the Spirit wasn’t only a momentous event for me. God was there. He was laughing too. He loves to recall that moment as well. The angels in heaven were singing and maybe even dancing. 

He is my travelling buddy on my journey of faith, just as he is yours. He loves it when we remember with joy those close encounters we’ve had over the years. He’s there when we remember the dark times, the tricky bits when we’ve not felt his closeness, and he is always calling us, drawing us back. 

How great is that? Don’t you just love Him?

I