Being back at work full-time I am finding it more challenging to remember and be thankful every day for #3goodthings, but am I loving the way I see God showing His presence in both the slow & busy, happy & sad ++++ 27 June company of someone from church on the commute to work nurse at the hospital appointment was from our church son having a great time at Bethel Worship School
29/30 June God speaking through just a few words of a song lovely pop and ping takeaway food followed by dessert long catch up chat with a friend 210 gifts
Joining with the writing flash mob that is Five Minute Friday at the home of the lovelyLisa Jo Baker. Writing not for comments or traffic or anyone else’s agenda. But for pure love of the written word. For joy at the sound of syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the speaker.
Five minutes on in between
We are all
living in between in our household right now.
We have a
home and a roof over our heads, in rented accommodation. We have no idea of the
time-span and have not known for a couple of years now.
And there are
two adult children who are in between living at home and not living at home. Space which
is fraught with ‘do I have enough money to spread my wings and fly away from
the parents or not?’ Young hearts who want to be independent, but the wherewithal
is not quite in place to make it happen.
Each one
wants to know what the next phase will be, while we carry on living out daily selves
and wait a little longer.
For now life’s
belongings are artfully arranged on an interim shelf.
22 June celebrating friends Pearl Wedding seeing friends children again after many years pogoing to the Sex Pistols **** 23 June time to meet and share breakfast with people after the Pearl Party daughter telling me she recognises what God has been doing in me in the last few years good lungfuls of sea air 204 gifts
Joining with the writing flash mob that is Five Minute Friday at the home of the lovelyLisa Jo Baker. Writing not for comments or traffic or anyone else’s agenda. But for pure love of the written word. For joy at the sound of syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the speaker.
Five minutes onRHYTHM
When we first came
into being we lived so close to our mother’s heart. Our rhythm of growth and
movement developing in time with the steady pulse of the beat of blood,
coursing and intertwining round both our bodies.
Middle child used
to carry and play bass drum in a Yorkshire Brass Band*. Charged with keeping
everyone in step so they could construct their rhythms and harmonies around
him he was the band's heartbeat. It was really pretty much out of the conductor’s hands once they were on the move.
And sometimes pulse is a completely noiseless; it is the lifeblood that underlies
stanzas of poetry and the great symphonies of music.
Silent, constant
and steady Your Holy Spirit is the foundation of our thoughts, our beings and our very
lives.
Finally the very last
thing to stop when we die is our own heartbeat, before we dance across the threshold
and home into the arms of Our Father.
END
*anyone who knows anything about Brass Bands will know that Yorkshire is home to some of the worlds best. Not just a mother's boast :-)
Joining with
the writing flash mob that is Five Minute Friday at the home of the lovelyLisa Jo Baker. Writing not for comments or traffic or anyone else’s
agenda. But for pure love of the written word. For joy at the sound of
syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the
speaker.
Five minutes onlisten
****
Chances are if you have listened to all the words in your
lifetime you might not have come across this one - waulking. Since I am married
to a Scotsman who has a percentage of Outer Hebridean ancestry it came onto our
radar a few years back.
Waulking is the process that beats cloth (mostly tweedy) to soften it and
in the past was traditionally accompanied by song:
A waulking session often begins with slow-paced songs, with the
tempo increasing as the cloth becomes softer. As the singers work the cloth,
they gradually shift it to the left so as to work it thoroughly.
And
waulking can be a little like arguing. Starting off with a few careless, barbed comments which accelerate
gradually into a full flowing exchange of verbal hand grenades.
Cloth beats hard on the table.
We retreat
temporarily behind our walls of hurt and lob our jagged phrases without regard
for collateral damage. Often (for me) reaching a peak with:
YOU
Are
Not
Listening
And in the
full throes of heated exchange our words are like the meaninglessvocables of the
waulking song chorus sounding like 'tra
la la' or 'hey hey hey' to the other person.
But do clashes soften the hard
parts of our hearts when we have walked and worked through them? Enhancing the
brilliance when reconciliation comes?
Perhaps just sometimes not being
listened to is the means by which we are really truly heard.
Kathleen McInnes - Gaol Ise gaol
(a Waulking Song)
(With thanks to the words in the
Wikipedia article on WAULKING SONG)
3 June hearing beautiful birdsong whilst waiting for a morning train a husband who cooks being called a superstar keyboardist
7 June meeting daughter's housemate on train cocktails long girly chats with oldest friend
8 June catching up with 30 years worth of stories with schoolfriends (one recited the form register from nearly 40 years ago!) afternoon tea being kept safe by police whilst demonstrations were going on **** 9 June quiet time to absorb the chats from the weekend Rafa winning the French Open Bollywood Carmen Live 198 gifts
I wrote this post on Friday but due to lack of wi-fi access in the last few days have only posted today. Fall
I'm sitting writing this on the station platform. Just out of sight round the bend the track runs over what was the world's largest brick built structure when it was constructed, Stockport Viaduct. In years gone by many people threw themselves from this bridge, having been driven mad by the chemicals used in the felt hat making process at the town's Hat Works. It gave the Stockport one of the highest suicide rates in the UK and one time.
Falling from the bridge.
But if I were to fall here and now it would be relatively safe as no trains thunder through this place, every single train stops at this station. It is one of those weird by laws and another unique statistic.
I used to fall often as a child and remember mum rolling her eyes at the red-rimmed circles of royal blue ribbed fabric on my knees. That she would have to sort the tights out again, either with needle and thread or find time to buy some more in the shops.
The royal cloth You wore was shameful to many, blood stained and edged. They said you were mad too. God was mad to let You die and Your claim to be King of the Jews just plain annoyed people.
In that fall You gave Your greatest gift to save us all from ourselves.
30 May seeing a father and child greet each other at the station (how God loves us) Anthony Wilson during cancer treatment noticing that he has 3 eyelashes left after an awkward exchange with a friend thinking about seeing God's blessings when things are challenging and the fact that people often don't recognise that miracle
1 June finding a set of glasses in a charity shop husband got hoover out and used it for 3rd weekend in a row (!) finalising plans for a 50th year get together with school friends
2 June warm enough to finally switch off the last few radiators Manchester Day Parade
using a usually up tempo song in unplugged style for communion
This week has been difficult more down than up watching my little brother come to terms with treatment for illness and all-the-things that go with it the heaviness of wondering whether daughter is OK the tiredness of a daily commute that leaves me with sharp teeth that bite those I love best the weird dances that introverts do with new work colleagues the work itself that has systems that are left patchily wanting the pecking order that leaves temps as the needed but unwanted at the bottom of the heap the meetings that you hope will refresh and revive but end up going in circles where the old, familiar and gregarious do the talking the forgetting to pray for those who I have said I will pray for and hanging on to the end of a rope that is fraying. In and between all these things You are constant, noiseless, silent yet blessing, in the same way that You have been patiently shaping those You love for a thousand ages. Reaching down for our hand to help us back up healing in ways beyond our understanding carrying our load with us renewing our strength when it fails and enabling the antiseptic of forgiveness to soothe bite wounds ensuring that people know they matter even when social and psychological systems shout otherwise equipping us with knowledge to work out missing parts making the last first and the first last. Kingdom come. Refreshing and restoring us in unexpected ways; vibrantly colouring nature's landscape and elevating the every day ordinary to extraordinary if we choose to be captivated with hearts and eyes never forgetting and always forgiving us first
mending the rope
washing away the dirt
untangling the knots
and reeling us in when we don't have the will and strength to come to You.
Who alone could save themselves Their own soul could heal Our shame was deeper than the sea Your grace is deeper still You O Lord have made a way The great divide you heal For when our hearts were far away Your love went further still (O yes) Your love goes further still
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