Head Space

I feel pathetic.

Jesus lived a very communal lifestyle. He travelled with a large group of people. Sometimes he camped out; sometimes he stayed with friends. When people knew he was around, he was mobbed. 

Yet he still set aside time to be alone with his Father. Even if that meant rising before dawn and meeting him in the hills. Even if that meant being out on the hills with him all night long. He knew he needed to create head space so that he could keep alive his relationship with his Father in heaven.

He may have been crowded physically, but he never let himself be crowded mentally / spiritually. He drew boundaries and kept them. He knew what was most important and that was what he did.

I’ve been living with a full house for awhile, and it is set to continue. I’ve watched my quiet times become eroded. I’ve watched that happen. I haven’t succeeded in preventing or circumventing it. Others would understand. I wouldn’t be persecuted if I said I needed an hour on my own with God. There are empty rooms. There are ways to accomplish so simple a task.

And yet very often I don’t. I allow the untidy house to dictate my actions. I live with a Martha mentality rather than a Mary mentality. 

And as I do that, I watch myself sink. I don’t see many instances of the Spirit dictating my attitudes and words – more instances of my own natural, sinful self coming to the fore again.

Lord, help me in this to be more like you. Forgive me for blaming my circumstances for my poor choices and lack of self-discipline. Enable me to walk the talk more day by day.

I don’t want to feel pathetic any more.

Pretending?

Mid-July. 

It feels more like mid-October. 

Never mind. We’re off to someone’s home for dinner and I’m dressing as if it is mid-July. That may mean cold feet.

I’m wearing a ring passed down to me from my mother-in-law’s estate, which I’ve had re-sized twice already but as I type, it is sliding round my finger, which would normally be a little fatter in a normal mid-July.

It seems the path of that pesky jet stream has sunk lower than it should be at this time of year. Some of us are flooding and cold; others are dry and baking.

Well. Life is what you make it. It’s not about what happens to you, but how you react to what happens to you.

So I am determined to handle this summer with a smile. We had a wonderful day out in St Andrews yesterday, and it didn’t rain during our outdoor explorations round the ruins. It was dry long enough today so that some of the lengthy grass got lopped off. 

It’s all about making the most of what we have.

Am I pretending? Or just altering my attitude? Hypocrite or positive thinker?

Weeds

Day after day the skies cry down onto an already water-logged earth. My garden is saturated, not flooded like some poor folks’ gardens and houses are, but basically, it’s had enough. The potatoes are probably rotting underground. Nothing is growing except the weeds.

Why do weeds flourish when all else withers? When glorious roses mould on the stems? When marigolds sit like statues, neither growing nor dying but remaining static, stoic perhaps under the onslaught from the heavens.

I don’t know. 

But the parallel is obvious in my own life. Critical attitudes are encouraged by what I read in the news. Today’s cultural assumption that we are wonderful makes me believe it.  Society’s assertion that we deserve the best because we’re worth it inflates my pride. 

We don’t deserve the best. But God has given us his best anyway. He’s given us his son, to bear our sins on the cross, to set us free from the consequences of our fallen natures. 

We don’t deserve it, that’s for sure. 

That’s grace.

Fast Food or Feast?

Snacking or grazing? 

Snatched morsels of nourishment don’t always contain much nourishment. Fast food can be nothing more than chemicals and calories. Wholesome food is that which is grown well and prepared with care. It takes time to make and time to consume.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Feed on me in your heart, Jesus says. The richness of God’s word is released in our lives as we ruminate on it. Snacking on the odd verse of scripture may hush our consciences but doesn’t always do much to feed our souls. 

We are challenged to train our spirits, to train ourselves like athletes train themselves. It can’t be done in minutes. We can’t really be all that God has designed us to be unless we linger in his presence, suck on his words, savour the taste and allow him time to speak, to heal, to console, to guide, to love us.

Today I arose early to spend some time grazing. I hope that during the day, I might ruminate on what I have read this morning.

There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Hallelujah!

Bats

Every night at dusk, the bats come out. 

Come out from where? Not sure and not sure I want to know. Quite possibly from the barn at the back, but I’ve never seen them roosting there (is that the right word even? – roosting?). There is something kind of fun about watching them whiz past the window, but then again, something very creepy about them.

Once, a few years ago, we were redecorating and the back door was slightly open. One bat zipped into the house and despite my best efforts with the broom, eluded us. We opened windows and thought probably he/she found a way out. But no.

A few days later the bat reappeared in the living room. Two grown up sons and I chased it round the room, watching it spread its wings and claw its way up a curtain. Twice it was nearly trapped but suddenly escaped, but at last one son managed to catch it in a bucket and release it outdoors again.

I’ve got nothing against bats in theory. I quite like them whizzing round outside eating the pesky midgies.

But I don’t want them crawling up my curtains.

To everything a time and a place. 

I have to confess, there are a couple of people in my life who are a bit like bats. They’re fine when they are whizzing round doing life outside of my zone. Not so happy when they get into my space.

I think the Lord has a lot of work to do in me. Grace is sometimes hard to come by.

Help, Lord.

Family Blessings

A house full of family. Not everyone is here, but many are, and from afar. There is a lot of laughter, some expectations, a lot of food and teasing. You have to have a thick skin to survive in this family. 

Tennis is on in front of me; the anticipation of watching Murray, the great Scottish-British hope, storm through is enough to make you think he’s bound to fail. At the moment though Federer is powering through to victory.  Until the rain stops play.

It’s the Fourth of July. I have a scrapbook of memories in my memory bank of past Fourths. Homemade ice cream – the rock salt, the taking turns at cranking it, the ice cream so cold it gave you a brain freeze. Heat, sunshine, fireworks in the evening. It got dark by 8 in California. Can’t have fireworks in a place where it doesn’t get dark til 11, unless you have it at midnight.  My memories here are fun, too. BBQ, usually cooked in the garage, someone racing back to the house through the rain with the cooked food. Flags flapping in the moist air. Friends coming round to celebrate.

We’ll do it today again, later. We’d all love it to be hot and sunny – it has been some years (including last year) – but we’ll enjoy ourselves whatever the weather.

My heart is full of gratitude to God, for such a family. For such love and laughter. I don’t take it for granted.