Kenyan friends

Gentle, kind people with beautiful smiles, warm handshakes and generous hearts. Men with God in their eyes, unafraid to put an arm around a young muzungu lad.

A people who consider themselves our harvest, and cry out for the Spirit of God to bring revival in our land.

People who live lives generous in every way, that shine with the goodness, the kindness, the love of Jesus. Women and men who like nothing better than playing football with young lads from the slums, laughing and singing with giggling girls who've been given a fresh hope, or persuading a disabled child of his immense value and worth.

Softly spoken, inspiring, loving, prayerful friends. True brothers and sisters in Christ.

The Mother of all mothers

It's Mothers' Day today and, apart from the beautiful flowers and cards from our children, not too different in our household from other Sundays.  Mick cooked as usual and his mum shared lunch with us.  I'm spoilt!
 
Before I became a mother myself I found it a difficult day, especially as a child.  I used to be embarrassed for the girls at school who asked me what I was getting for my mum, forgetting I didn't have one.  But, of course, I did have a mother once, and a very good one at that.  I thank God for her love, her care, her wisdom, her kindness and humour, her faith and her prayers for my brothers and me.

 

 This is my mother with her father on the day she married my dad.  I love her expression.  She looks full to bursting - and her dapper dad looks so proud of his daughter!
 
When I look at this photo and think of my mother, I still cry for the relationship I've lost.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have a mum after forty two years without one, but I would love life to have played out differently.  I would love to have seen Mum holding my children; watched her growing to love my husband.  And there are so many questions I'd like to ask and conversations I'd like to have with her... a hug would be good too.

Once, a dozen or so years ago, when I was overwhelmed with longing for Mum, out of the blue, I suddenly experienced the deepest sense of peace I'd ever felt.  It was a deep, velvety, dark, quiet, still peace like no other.

Mostly though, I don't cry over my motherless state, after all it's quite ordinary when you're 55... and having my own grown-up children to hug brings its own, special healing.

I know I'll see my mum again one day, and maybe my tears are partly wrapped up in a longing for that day too.  I like the idea that, as time is firmly attached to the days and nights of this world, heaven is outside time.  That means in some sense I'm already there, singing, dancing and laughing with both my parents.  I like that.

That day will bring my ultimate healing.  When I see God face to face, the God who met me out of the blue as a Mother of all mothers and Father of all fathers, the longing will be over. 

Can you see what is is yet?

I've had an amazing, roller coaster of a day today. Mick bought me some pastels for Christmas and I booked into a class to learn how to use them. I have a hang up about knowing the 'right' way of going about these things. I find it really difficult to let go and just DO it!

First though, I met for coffee with my lovely friend Julie. We spoke about kindling. How it's no good having logs for your fire but no kindling. How kindling needs to be gathered together. How it doesn't even know it's kindling until its gathered together!

So that's the plan... gather the people with a sparky, prayerful heart together and get the bellows going. Then we can think about heaving some lovely great logs on to sustain and build the blaze.

We spoke about the amazing ways God has answered our prayers over the years. Sometimes we haven't noticed the little steps along the way and it's just in looking back that we see them.

Building my picture up today felt scary. I was surprised to feel quite vulnerable and exposed in having to make marks on paper without understanding what I was doing.

I didn't 'get' what the teacher was saying. I couldn't see what she meant, but did it anyway. I really wanted to do this thing, learn how it worked, but I wanted to know first rather than find out by doing it. I had a bit of a tussle with myself!

Trusting the Rabbi can be like that too.

I got more and more excited as my painting began to take shape. Julie and I had a lovely sense of beginning to see the picture coming through today too, but our journey's been - and still is - long and winding.

There's enormous value in walking that road. Scary though.

A Moment of Epiphany

Epiphany : (Koine Greek: ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation", "striking appearance"[1]) or Theophany[2] (Ancient Greek (ἡ) Θεοφάνεια, Τheophaneia meaning "vision of God"[3]), which traditionally falls on January 6.

Just after 9am this morning there was a ring on the bell. Still in my dressing gown, I opened it to find a young girl holding out a small package. "Happy Epiphany! My mum told me to give you this."

Victoria's grandparents live a few doors up from us and she lives a few doors down. Her Spanish mum made this beautiful, traditional Kings Bread to remember and celebrate the meeting of the magi with Jesus in Bethlehem.

It was a beautiful gift; a wonderful epiphany. It spoke to me of the nature of God and the beautiful things he is doing in the community I am part of. Bread - yeast - fruit - gift - obedience - generosity - kindness - blessing - all wrapped up and given by a child. Perfect.

A Whortley Eye

Pretty much all my childhood holidays were spent in Somerset near the Quantock Hills.  Uncle Colin and Aunty Nora lived nearby and during the first two weeks of August  'The Tackers' became a familiar sight amongst locals. 

We were townies through and through and our holidays with Nora and Colin (not really relatives but wonderful friends) opened our eyes to the wonders of good food and country ways.  Picnics in the hills included hard boiled bantam eggs, pickled cucumber, home made chutneys and fresh raspberries from their garden.

Our trips into the countryside would always include 'going a walk' together and we'd each choose one of Uncle Colin's hazel 'gaffer' sticks to help us on our way.  Colin was an intelligent, gentle, kind man with a knack for making you feel special without saying much.  We loved him.  

As we walked we talked, we sang, we laughed... and probably argued too. 

We'd watch out for huge orange slugs and tiny brown droppings.  Our youngest brother, Simon, developed a liking for 'raking in the bubboles' with his gaffer stick!

If you happened to be walking next to Uncle Colin (my favourite place), he'd draw your attention to the smaller, hidden things.  In amongst the heather and bracken we'd find whortles (bilberries) growing, the bloom on their dark berries hiding in the shadow beneath the leaves.  If we found a berry, Uncle Colin would tell us we were getting a 'whortley eye'.

The goodness of God's kingdom is often hidden, it's loveliness doesn't often shout "Look at me!".  It's too easy to despair, to lose hope in the face of the ugliness of the world.  We desperately need voices, people of hope that point to the good, the kind, the beautiful things that burn away the ugly.  The Light that shines on still in the darkness.

I'm working on developing my whortley eye.  I'm not ignoring the pain and suffering in the world, I'm just looking for the beauty hiding in their shadow and praying his kingdom in.

"He reveals deep and hidden things;
he knows what lies in darkness,
and light dwells with him"  Daniel 2:22

Hope in a Hopeless World

I've heard some truly terrible tales over the last few days.  Stories of devastating sickness and loss, families brought down or driven apart by alcoholism, abuse, disappointment and fear.

I've listened as two women in particular shared their awful stories, candidly and with a smile... hard pressed on every side, but not crushed

Respect. 

I'm choosing to be hopeful for people like that.  Hopeful for their futures.  Hopeful that in some way, goodness and kindness, life and love will sprout from the unpromising mess of their pasts. 

I've decided to look for signs of good things to come, and then to pray blessings on them.  To ask The Gardener to peel away the old, uncover the beautiful... and plant it in good, rich soil.

Farewell FB, Hello Lent

I've just changed my Facebook settings to stop messages appearing on my phone; updated my profile picture and status... and then  logged out for the last time before Easter Sunday!

I'm really going to miss my old friend FB, although, in a funny kind of way, I'm looking forward to our time apart too. 

I feel hopeful that it'll be a time when I make the effort to connect with people in more personal, meaningful ways. 

I'm hoping to be less distracted by the silly stuff and more focussed on the important stuff.

It's going to be an interesting s p a c e.

Note to self:  Warning - don't become a blogaholic.