Saturday, December 31, 2011
I'll do it my way.
The man was blaming the world around him, or rather the lack of helpful companions for his reason for not getting into the pool. It was somebody else's fault that he did not walk. He did not even address the question of whether he really wanted to be well. If he was well he might have to be fully responsible for himself, he might have to work, he could not rely on his disability for his inability to fend for himself.
How often do I make an excuse without addressing the underlying reason for my current state? How often do I leave Jesus out of the equation? How often do I ask him to help me into the water without expecting him to heal me in his own way? How often do I tell him what I want him to do? All I have is a stationary view from the poolside, he is the one walking around who can see the whole picture.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
good wine
Jesus went to a party where the calculations were wrong. Not wrong that they had so much food left that they did not know which shelter to take the left overs to. They ran out of wine, and at a wedding. How embarrassing. Jesus' mother came to the rescue. "Fix it" she whispered. Typical son answer "Not ready" Why do they never give a straight answer? I wonder how many times Jesus had "fixed it" at home? He did now too. he got some wine and good wine too.
The man in charge of the party had got it wrong and Jesus provided the best wine ever tasted in place of an empty jar. I find it a great relief that Jesus can take my embarrassing situations and make some good wine from them.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Sore
God remembers each one of us more than that.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
"In Bruges"
Four letter words, colloquial language for excretion keep coming to mind. It happens. Jesus saw the whole picture and was able to see that the end was Glory to God. We only see a small fraction of the picture.
Yesterday we went to Bruges, saw a few Old Masters. We did not see them as the artist saw them. The paintings had experienced the effects of life. We do not see our life in the same way as our Creator does. He sees the whole picture in all its newly painted glory.
Picture
Crucifixion (1626); Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk, Brugge, Belgium
Anthony van Dyck
This work is in the public domain in the United States, and those countries with a copyright term of life of the author plus 100 years or fewer.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Footsteps in the snow
Thomas Daniel
Stephen James
Matthew Peter
Rebecca Mary
Naomi Ruth
and the one we did not need
Lydia Sarah.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Beginning and End
I sort cover the first one as I read my bible as I drink my wake up cup of tea. I am not so sure about the rest of the day.
Friday, December 23, 2011
His Name is John
Now Zechariah speaks. His will is at one with God's will. He is filled with the Holy Spirit.
May my will be aligned with yours O Lord. May I hear your promptings and act upon them.
My friend believes we had a minor miracle with a Russian doll with 10 babies for her grandaughter.
Picture
http://www.dinodirect.com/wholesale-russian-dolls-nesting-matryoshka.html
Thursday, December 22, 2011
My opinion on those who pontificate
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Magnify the Lord
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Suis-je si l'auto absorbée que je ne remarque pas les petites choses de la vie?
Monday, December 19, 2011
My mother-in- law and the 'what-ifs'
One year I bought my mother- in- law a book of poetry. I don't know what possessed me to do that. I cannot even remember if I knew that she read poetry.
My mother-in - law liked books but she only had two shelves of them. Those books were very precious. Perhaps my father-in-law thought that buying books was too frivolous. My mother-in-law passed on her love for books to her son. Later today I will try to find this book of poetry. It was by Frank Topping, a Methodist minister who often spoke on the radio. It is either in the 32 boxes of books that we have waiting to be unpacked or on the many shelves distributed around the house and filled in a very random order- the order in which they were found or fitted.
Iris' life was full of anxiety, "Be careful- what-if..." were thoughts and words that were common to her. One poem met her where she was in her worry. It was something about a letter which might be bringing bad news fell through the front door onto the doormat. Letters meant anxiety. But Frank Toppings letter brought good news and relief.
Iris bemoaned the time and energy she had spent on worry, time when she could have enjoyed the present rather than be anxious about the future.
We had the poem read at her funeral.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
My Friend Pat
We drank coffee and put the church to rights. Sometimes we went to church, the special midweek Wednesday service which I have told you about, sometimes we went to lunch and sometimes we did both. But we talked, then we talked some more.
It was a minor miracle that Pat could talk and walk at all. She had lived through lung cancer and a stroke. Her hub had been told that she would always need care, probably would not talk properly and the likelihood of a normal life was minimal.
Pat had a fake grass carpet on her patio and in part of the garage. The garage had a little table and chairs, like a summer house. Pat went there to smoke. She knew she was doing herself no good.
Pat had a lot of tales. My favourite was her recounting of going to buy her coffin. She and her husband did this before he died. There was a sale on coffins so she bought one. She liked the idea that she was not even paying full price for her final resting place.
My next favourite was the one about the lady being raped a the store on the east of Houston. Pat was a district personal manager. The manager of the store involved called Pat to tell her about the problem. her reply was "I think you should call your local police. They will get there sooner than me." (The end of the story is long and complicated. For some reason the woman was just shouting wolf.)
There was also one about their move into investing in real estate. They bought a 'ranch' in the country. It consisted of a shed. They used to visit it for picnics but that was as far as it went.
I still miss Pat and our conversations. Often I think "I must tell Pat that. She would have a good laugh over that." There is no Pat to visit. I don't even live near her house any longer. But I do have the memories of the joy and the faith that we share.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Prison visiting
La Prison de Saint-Gilles
Perhaps we gained some heavenly brownie points yesterday. We did some prison visiting. La Prison de Saint-Gilles is imposing, dominating the streets of the neighbourhood. It is old and outdated. It is condemned. In 3 years it will close. Edith Cavell was here before she was taken to the firing line. It was almost as difficult to enter as for an inmate to get out.
It seemed strange ringing the doorbell of a prison almost like Gandalf finding the right word to open the great dwarf Doors of Durin. A little door in a big gate leading to another.Another bell to be pressed, another door opening remotely from the interior. Thus we started the process of getting into the prison.
A man behind a glass screen, no friendly greeting. We handed in our identity cards. Nothing untoward in this. For David and I it was a slight problem as the glass screen only barked in french, well maybe flemish too but we did not test that. Returned was a photocopy and a number. It was the number of a locker, the receptacle for everything electronic and metallic. We survived.
It is general practice in Belgium for women to be known by their maiden name on official documents throughout their life. Since I was so old when we arrived in the country and all my other legal documents were in my married name we managed to be allowed an exception. However one of our party, much younger, I must add followed the local customs for official dealings and english customs for all other matters such as introducing herself to friends and church. Church had the wrong surname on the prospective list of carol singers. That was a problem for the glass screen. Sally is a very friendly person with a big smile, a big heart and fluent french. But Sally is not Sally she is Sarah. Not only is her ID card in her maiden name it has also the official name of Sarah. Two wrong names for one person and one card. Definitely suspicious. Higher authorities had to be appealed to. Fortunately the one ID number for the two people was sufficient for the nod from The Director.
Across the gateway to the metal detector. Here we caught up with Lynda who was in a state of undressing. Coat off, jacket off, shoes off. Maybe the little earrings. Every time she took off a layer the alarm rang. The next layer would render her indecent not that there was metal in those items of clothing. The worst thing was that the prison officers seemed to be treating us with suspicion rather than as an assorted group of churchgoers about to sing to those in captivity.
It was the pin in the wrist causing the problem. A necessity after a bicycle fall in the summer.
Eventually we were all in. We sang. They listened. They clapped. They sang with us. They clapped as we sang. They smiled as we sang. We chatted. We went our separate ways. Them behind the locked doors, us onto the snowy streets. I remember their smiles. I hope they remember the love of Jesus whihc took us there on the winters night.
Coincidence?
I was thinking that I would like to write about this incident. We read the Lectionary for today which is my usual source for a verse. It was there waiting for me.
Photograph http://www.brusselspictures.com/2009/06/16/prison-de-saint-gilles/
Friday, December 16, 2011
Growing to God
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Glory and elbow grease to God
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Rich clothes for a festival.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Jesus is coming to dinner
Monday, December 12, 2011
Today is a day for new beginnings
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Moses- murderer and divorcee.
Moses' name cropped up in the gospel today and then in something else (Scripture Union, Closer to God- paper version) that I was reading. Moses of burning bush fame, the man God had earmarked to lead the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt. The man who later talked to God face to face as a man speaks with his friend. (Exodus 33:11) This is the same Moses who killed an Egyptian, maybe as a result of racial aggression, thought it was OK and when he found that it was not, ran away. He married an alien though of course it was not taboo when he did it as he had yet to write, with God's help, the foundation of the Law. Moses worked long hours and neglected his wife and family. His wife took the sons and left, not once but twice.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Don't stop to think.
Our main route to Brussels is through a little forest. Between our village and the next town there is the deer warning sign. Deer can do a lot of damage to themselves and the car with which they coincide.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Simple arches, simple prayer
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Your time, my time
Five verses each four lines long so when we get through two lines of the third verse we are half way through. They say that the average time for a hymn is seven minutes. Now I need a piece of paper- the service sheet will suffice- good job they provide pencils in the pews- what was it that I want to buy, need to do this afternoon?
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
An oasis
Today is Tuesday but it should be Wednesday. This is a Wednesday verse.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Plumb-Line
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Pecking Order
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Quiet Day- Devoted to prayer.
Today was the Holy Trinity Brussels Ladies Quiet Day. It was a quiet day, not silent but gentle like waves lapping against the wall. One of the first Sunday Schools I was sent to was in a church by an estuary. When the tide was in we heard the waves going slip slop on the other side of the wall. It was like that today. We were not hasty, it was a day away from the rush, a day out the ordinary Saturday runs. We sat and listened, we prayed and sang and we shared ourselves.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Stone Mansions
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Getting to Know You
2 Peter 3:18
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Preparing for Christmass
Friday, May 6, 2011
Excuses
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Happy New Year
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Today there is no Gospel
Friday, April 22, 2011
Genesis 22:1-14
“Watch his eyes for the slightest movement”. (Ward Sister Northampton General Hospital 26 years ago this last Ash Wednesday).
34 Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water. John 19:34 (New International Version, ©2010)
We stood at the foot of the bed with David Williamson, the curate from our previous parish who had driven many miles over the past few days to be a God-given presence in our waiting. We watched as the tests for death were performed. The only one I remember is ice water injected into the ears. Nothing. After three days of total inactivity whilst on a respirator I am not sure that I really wanted to see any reaction.
One of the things which had kept me believing during those three days had been Abraham and Isaac walking up the hill. Those three days might not have been very strenuous activity but they had been a great effort. One of my spiritual mentors had reminded me of this story when I called to tell her about Matthew’s crib death and subsequent resuscitation. We had walked up the hill and now our son was on the altar, a little lamb would come and Matthew would be given back to us to nurture into adulthood.
No flicker of an eye, no twitch of a toe. Death was decreed on March 9th 1985. The doctor and nurses thanked David and me for our consideration. Our consideration? I think for decorum in our grief. Our grief was no less because God, physically in the form of David Williamson was with us. We still have ‘a gap’ called Matthew. Every time I read this episode in Genesis I am reminded of those three days- the expectation of the little lamb in the form of a flicker of an eye or the suckle of a nipple. After the gathering of the wood there was no little lamb for us on the mountaintop.
The grief is still with us in spite of the years and children since the days of struggle up the mountain and the test on the summit. But grief with God is not as empty as grief without him. So it is with the cross of Good Friday. It is a day of mourning with God.