Follow the Sun

 

The sunflowers Flick planted at school are shooting up and needing to be planted outside. But Flick, the tender gardener, is afraid to put them out. What if something eats them? There are aphids on the roses. What if a slug or snail gets there and spoils them?

Possibly we could repot them and keep them inside the conservatory, I tell her. But for them to be as tall and beautiful as they were created to be, they need to go outside. They need to bask in the full sunlight. We need to watch out for the beasties, and water and stake and tend them, and leave the rest to God.

It is a risk we have to take if we want these sunflowers to flourish.

Life is a risk for all of us. We have been languishing inside prescribed areas, mingling with limited numbers, for over a year now. Gradually, we are tiptoeing out, beginning to mingle, beginning to gather. Of course, there will always be risks, but vibrant lives thrive in the open, being careful but bold as we step out in faith.

God delights in showering us with his love and blessings. Blessing upon blessing. On Saturday, the Lord threw open the floodgates of heaven and poured out so much blessing my heart is overflowing. All seventeen of our immediate family (from three households) gathered under blue skies to celebrate Doug’s birthday. First time we were all together for nearly a year.

With eight grandchildren 6 years old and under, I couldn’t say it was peaceful. But there were few tears, mostly squeals of delight and surprise (at how cold the water in the paddling pool was…)

I love the way the sunflower turns to follow the sun in its course across the skies. Today, and every day, may our faces be turned to the Son, so that his brightness would blot out every shadow of concern and fill our hearts with peace, as we trust in him.

Cut short

 

We’ve all shared the delight of watching the parent blue tits work hard these last few weeks, first preparing the nest, painstakingly carrying a twig or a bit of fluff in to line it, one twig at a time. There was a flurry of activity and a rising of joy and expectation.

Two cats reside with us. Ferocious hunters. We were as attentive as possible, removing anything that might make it easier for them to reach the birds. Sadly, though, after the two eggs had hatched, Indy killed one of the parents.

Saddened, we watched as the remaining parent worked feverishly to nourish his growing brood. Three or four days ago I took this picture. Eager beaks appeared at the opening whenever the parent returned, and the food was greedily gobbled.

Nothing after that. We thought they had flown the nest. We couldn’t hear any more chirruping. We didn’t see the single parent popping in and out. Don opened the door.

Horror. Two dead chicks. No sign of a parent. Is that a smirk I see on Indy or Prince’s face?

Babies need help, if they’re going to flourish, if they’re going to fly. They need others to feed and care for them. Spiritual babies need help, too. They need food, encouragement, care. They need protection from the predators that lurk all around.

Jesus gathers us into church, not to build an institution, but to grow us in understanding and maturity. I learn so much from my sisters in our weekly Bible study. We learn from each other. We go away nourished, often with a thought or two to ruminate on until the next week. We go away protected by each other’s prayers.

May our organic churches flourish and fly, demonstrating the love of the Father through our actions and words.

Soft Rain

 

What’s that noise?

The soft tapping of a gentle rain brushes the windows. We have enjoyed several days of sunshine. I have revelled in the warmth, even as I dragged watering cans round the seedlings to ensure they didn’t die of thirst.

The rain falls on the parched earth, swelling the potatoes, strengthening the roots of the broccoli, encouraging the carrot seeds to sprout. Although I love the uninterrupted sunshine, today I welcome this light rain, as it frees me from responsibility to keep these things alive.

Frees me from responsibility. So often I feel and act as if things depend on me and my efforts. I sense this morning that God is relieving me of that burden. It’s a burden he didn’t create me to carry. He created me, and you, to depend on him, to entrust our anxieties to him and to be set free from fear.

As he waters the earth for me today, may he also be in my words and in my actions, bringing refreshment and life to those I encounter. May his Spirit in me revive those who thirst, those whose heads hang low, those who mourn or fear.

‘The Lord your God is with you; he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; he will quiet you with his love; he will rejoice over you with singing.’ (Zephaniah 3:17)

As you stand on the parched ground of disappointment, of difficult situations, of challenging circumstances, of awkward relationships, may the love of the Lord sprinkle down on you and revive you. May you hear his voice of love rejoicing over you with singing. And may you receive his peace, knowing you are special, you are loved, you are blessed.

Stand Firm

 

The peace is rent again this morning by the sound of tractors zooming round the fields scooping up the cut grass. The skill of the farmers is impressive, as they coordinate their machines perfectly in order to hoover it up and fling it into a companion wagon. I wonder if the farmers ever miscalculate and crash into each other.

All this activity in order to store up food to nourish the cattle during the cold months when the grass no longer grows to be grazed.

Preparedness. I’m thinking how important it is to feed our spirits and our memory banks with scripture and worship music while we can, so that we have it to live on when we find ourselves in cold months. The pandemic lock down has been a lean time for us all, depriving us of the nourishing meadows of friendships and church gatherings where we can graze as we are inspired by God’s word lived out in front of us.

This morning I’m thinking of our sisters and brothers in the persecuted church. They have been denied the lavish spiritual sustenance we have available, and may be clinging to God through a verse or two only. I am in awe of their courage and faithfulness, and for them I pray today.

‘Stand firm, then, with the belt of truth buckled round your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place.’ Eph 6:14. May our loving Lord dress them today in the armour of God so that they can stand firm in him.

A Murder of Crows

 

Up and down, back and forth: the tractor worked through the fields, cutting silage. Row after row of long grass stripes the field now as it dries. The activity drew a murder of crows. Aptly named. Their rough caws steal the peace. When the summer dawn broke around 3.30 this morning, the chorus of crows started up, wakening our sleeping household.

Our dawn chorus usually opens with the beautiful song of the blackbirds, quickly joined by all the rest: chaffinches, blue and great tits, swallows, even cuckoos. We love the gentle harmonies and rhythms of our morning wake-up call.

Today, though, it is just the murder of crows we hear. Or is it? When I sit still and listen, I hear the gentle cooing of the pigeons. Underneath the cacophony of caws, I hear the voices of our songbirds as they continue to go about their business. The single-parent blue tit (bereaved of its partner by our cat…boo) continues to work feverishly to feed its noisy brood in the birdhouse. The cuckoo has come closer this year, right into one of our trees: probably it has stolen the nest of a blackbird.

Life is hard, and sometimes the murder of crows we hear in our hearts drowns out the sweet songs of life. But the sweet songs continue, if we take time to listen, and have an ear to hear.

May we all hear the songs of angels today, their chorus of praise to the creator overwhelming the rough caws of anxieties and stresses, and bringing us the peace of God.

 

Peace

 

Marianne led us in a series of wellness poses. We engaged our hands and arms in physical expressions of worship, raising arms in praise, then offering to God the concerns that burdened us. As we lowered these to the ground, we were encouraged to pick up God’s blessings for us that day.

My concerns largely focused on my mother. As I laid her before the Lord, I saw with my spiritual eyes a pink rose. Twice I saw that pink rose.

Mhairi asked me later what I thought of when I thought of a pink rose. Peace, I said. Peace, and my Mom, because she used to grow a beautiful pink rose, very fragrant, called Peace. I then googled the meaning of pink roses in the Bible (yes, you can google that!). Peace and gratitude.

What a gift! As I receive that pink rose from our heavenly Father, I sense the peace, and I overflow with gratitude – both to Him, for giving me such a gift, and to Mom, for being who she is.

The Lord is closer than we imagine. He cares about every detail of our lives, and as we invite him in, he transforms them, and us. I continue to receive that pink rose.

And I think I’ll try to find one for my garden. On this beautiful day, peace everyone.

Few Peas

 

The seed tray is disappointingly sparse. Although I planted two dozen or so peas in it a couple of weeks ago, only half a dozen have sprouted and are growing. Eventually I worked out my mistake. Two mistakes, really. First, I used the wrong compost. I just grabbed an open bag, and then realised, too late, that it was coarse and gritty, not at all soft and pliant as it should be. I guess it is for potting on rather than sowing. Second, I forgot to soak the dried peas overnight. They went into the wrong soil, unprepared. Few have sprouted. Few will produce any peas.

So yesterday I started again. I filled a seed tray with Miracle Grow seed compost. I watered it, and I soaked the peas – way too many, it turns out – overnight. They are now in the soil, warming in the conservatory, and I fully expect to see quick results.

Jesus drew analogies between his Kingdom and his followers and soils, seeds and growth. I received several insights last week, when we pulled out of the norm and into a retreat and took time to listen to what he was saying to me. He planted seeds in my heart, in my mind, in my spirit.

Back in my day-to-day environment and routine, there is a danger that I neglect them.

Today I pray that his seeds fall on rich soil within me. I pray that I allow warm sunlight and refreshing water to tease those seeds into life, that the growth will be luxurious and nourishing to myself and others. May I nurture a contemplative mind which continues to consider his truths even as I garden, cook, and go about other mundane activities.