Angels bending near the earth

I enjoyed singing Christmas carols so much this year.

I decided my favourite one is It Came upon a Midnight Clear ... "that glorious song of old, from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold..."

Singing it, I had a picture of a massive angel, hovering over the world, head bent down towards it, seeing and mourning at the wrongdoing and sorrow, but also full of peace that all will be well. Peace that God is in control. Knowing that God sees all, but believing that He also knows the bigger picture, and that there will be justice, and recompense, and a setting right, in the end.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

These pictures are artwork to illustrate this same carol, by Erik Christenson, taken from his blog - I hope he would not mind. I love them.

This photo is of a tomb in the Protestant cemetery in Rome. I resonate with it because it shows how God and the angels grieve with us, even whilst knowing more than us. 

Because we live in a fallen world, that needs the God who came at Christmas, and who will come again.

One Thousand Gifts

If you ever look at the Shelfari graphic over on the right and down a bit, you might have noticed that a book has been sitting there for ages: One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

I am finally reading it, and I am so glad I am.

A while ago I asked a Christian friend how to avoid allowing my emotions to be battered around by my circumstances. Her answer, which sounded a bit too simple at the time, was, be thankful. Be thankful to God for the good things.

In this book, Ann Voskamp asks the questions, How can we live fully in the now, in the present, whatever the circumstances? How can we live fully in the life we have been given, rather than wishing for  other things? How can we live fully so that we are fully ready to die? These are good questions. She lost her sister in a horrible accident, and lived for years with some depression, and shares her experience of learning to live fully even with the grief and memories.

She writes how she discovered that the Greek word eucharisteo (thanks) has at its roots two related words, charis which is grace or gift, and chara which is joy. Thankfulness comes from accepting the gifts, and it gives joy. Sounds so simple.

I am still in the first few chapters, - but I thought I would share the idea she was given, which led to a deep change in her state of mind: someone challenged her to write a list of a thousand things she loves.
I have immediately decided to do the same. She says just writing the list made her happy. She wrote a few things a day. I don't yet know how long it took her, whether she finished it, or anything else, because I have only just got to this part. But I love the idea.

I'll tell you how I get on.

One Year On...

It is just over a year since we left Uganda. Can't believe it has been that long already. For me the first half of the year went by soooo slooowly. Everything seemed to be difficult and challenging; it seemed like I was climbing an interminable mountain of tasks and church visits. But in about March, when the church visits were over, we started choosing how to spend weekends, we stopped travelling about, and when life settled into more of a routine, then life quickened and became manageable, work became less scary and more under control, and things suddenly started to rush along. I began to feel as though I was building a new life, making new friends, actually enjoying things. It partly coincided with my embarking on my chocolate cure... And largely was just a matter of time, as relationships and involvements do grow slowly.

So suddenly I find myself struggling to believe we have been here a year.

Looking back on my experiences, I would probably give these tips to anyone starting out on the returnee lark...

Give yourself plenty of time, as in, don't rush into any commitments or job if possible, and allow yourself to have breaks, weekends to yourselves as a family, or with your family or familiar friends, every other weekend at least. It is tiring and you need downtime...
Don't expect to feel at home for ages. Don't feel sad if you don't yet feel at home.
Treat yourself to the things you have been missing... I didn't let myself indulge in either much chocolate or much alcohol until about February. I don't know why really - partly because I was doing the shopping, and I was trying to keep within a very small budget.
Don't pretend you know what is going on, but ask all the questions (eg what was that TV show, what does that word mean, how do I pay for a parking ticket...), - keep asking for help.

That is just a few things.

I asked Abby and Alex what things they are still missing and what things they are enjoying about living here, one year on.

Abby is still missing the campus life, the freedom to roam and play over such a big green open area. And she said she is missing the lovely swimming - the few pools we have gone to here are so crowded in comparison to the Colline or Kingfisher. She is also missing the food that she liked in Uganda, in particular, the sausages there! English sausages are all too spicy or peppery. And the Paramount gouda that the rest of us tired of - no cheese in England is that perfect blandness for her...! But, she loves her school and the friends she has made here, and seeing her grandparents and cousins so much more often.

Alex is also missing the freedom of campus and all the playing outdoors barefoot. He misses his friends on campus. But, he loves the fact that there is so much to do here, as in places to go for day trips and outings, and the sports he is able to do here - hockey club and cricket club. He loves the ease of getting things he wants... (he has just spent all his saved-up pocket money on a stunt scooter - ordered on Amazon and it arrived in two days.)

I am enjoying the countryside and almost daily walking, the constant change of the trees and the appearing of new flowers; still loving the smooth roads, the convenience of life in general (atms everywhere, post offices everywhere, a corner shop to buy milk just a two minute walk away,) the electricity being on all the time, internet working all the time; seeing my family often; variety of diet; being able to drink sherry or a gin and tonic while I am cooking, and anytime (don't worry, I am not drinking very much at all!); being a normal anonymous person everywhere I go. The things I still miss about Uganda, as well as friends, are: the sunshine, the light and warmth in the air; being able to throw on a t-shirt every day without thinking about it; the warmth of daily encounters with Florence, students, colleagues and neighbours; the birds; the beauty.

So it is still a mixture, and it probably always will be. Looking back, it hasn't been an easy year, but, we have been through an unavoidable valley and we are coming into the new land.

The thin ice revisited...

Thinking back over my previous post, I felt that the metaphor I used about walking on thin ice for eleven months was not quite right, as it sounds ungrateful to all those who were there for us and helped us through that time. Let alone, to God who looked after us. We did have many one-off gifts from churches and individuals, and the offer of help from family, and, help from family. Our bank balance never even got scary over the time, it kind of stayed at a certain level. My job was also a gift which helped us keep going.

I know my problem - my security is too much based in human things. My faith is in a salary, a home, paid bills, a plan, school places for the children, good relationships with parents, colleagues and friends.
Like I was saying before about Jonah, my security really needs to be in God. O ye of little faith.

I hope that I have learned a bit more faith through this experience. I think I feel less anxious about the future, that I know everything is in hand, someone is looking after us... Someone with a better plan than mine. Someone who knows a lot more than me.

We were walking over a long long lake of ice, but we had boats nearby. And maybe also what I needed to learn was that, the lake was never very deep after all.

Thoughts on reaching 45

45 is a good number. 45 is half of 90 - and 4 plus 5 equals 9.   9 x 5 is also 45. I don't normally enjoy numbers much, as I am more of a words person, but, I like the number 45.

As a stage of life, I am experiencing a surprisingly pleasing feeling, of starting the second half. Apparently GK Chesterton used to say at the end of every day, "Do you mean I get to do that all over again tomorrow?" meaning just, live another day. I feel that about my life. I am totally assuming I'll make it to 90, which seems a good possibility right now. Another whole half to go! And this time, starting with a lot more knowledge, understanding, language, and skills than I had for the first half. At least, for now, until they start to dwindle...

Things which I have got stuck on, like a cross-stitch of Noah's Ark which I started when Abby was a baby (!), I am now going to finish. Things I learned but forgot, like my knowledge of Hebrew,  I am going to relearn. Dan is starting work at Redcliffe College in July and I plan to get involved there.

I feel like I have reached the middle of a book which I am enjoying, and am looking forward to reading the rest.

I just checked, and according to Wikipedia, life expectancy in Zambia, where I once lived, is still only 42. In Zimbabwe it is 43. In Uganda it is 51.5. In UK, it is 80.5. It is still an unequal world... What will it take to give everyone the same share of years?

Still even in England, in aiming for 90 I am being optimistic, but I come from healthy stock... (And of course, this is also assuming that climate change doesn't wipe us all out in the next thirty years...)

So, not a crisis for me at this point, but a hope for the future, for the second half. For which I am thankful.

Jonah, a Beautiful Stone and a Jolly Bishop.

Saturday felt a bit off. Even though things are going well, and the weather was better - weak sunshine and a degree of warmth -, and  we had a free day and I had things I wanted to do, and Alex had an invitation to a friend, and I even knew what I was going to make for supper - I still felt that pulling-down feeling in my stomach, as if something was holding its two bottom corners and tugging downward. Going to church on Sunday we had an excellent talk on Jonah, and the word that stuck out was "Surrender." Jonah, sinking down, surrendered himself to God, and see what God did. I don't know particularly what was getting me down, but I can surrender life with all its good things and its down days, and that feels better.

On Sunday afternoon we all had a great gardening session. We clipped and yanked out ivy and trimmed the trees in our hedge, and now the middle of the garden is full of huge piles of greenery, and the edges look clearer and much more open and light. In the process of cutting back ivy from one overgrown corner, I discovered an interesting, stripey rock, with two holes carved or worn through it - clearly someone's possession at one point, but long lost under dark green curtains.

It made me think of the unexpected treasures you can discover when you cut back the junk that grows and overwhelms. But then again, in other paces where we stripped off ivy, we uncovered an ugly cement block wall - so, you can tell me the parable behind that...!

In the evening we went to a Baptism Renewal service, because Dan had to go and wanted us to accompany him. To be honest, none of the rest of us were very enthusiastic about going...(Abby and Alex haven't even been baptised yet), but it was actually very jolly and quite good fun. It was just what you might imagine - the baptism words and vows were repeated and we were asked if we wanted to reaffirm them for ourselves, we were given tall candles, we sang nice hymns, and the best bit was when the Bishop of Tewkesbury walked among us very gleefully spraying us with water from a basin using a large rosemary branch. We got pretty drenched!  

One Equal Light

It was my godmother's funeral today. I haven't been to many, but one in Zambia I remember as an awfully dark day. But today was bright and sunny. I was dreading the crematorium part but the chapel was filled with light. Before the lunch we stood outside in glorious sunshine. The church where the thanksgiving service took place later on had a massively wide stained glass window above the altar, so that the stone walls and the arrangements of purple and white flowers glowed in the rays of coloured light.

The main thing that allowed this light to shine and brighten the day was that she was peaceful and confident about where she was going.

This poem was printed in the programme:

Bring us, O Lord God,

at our last awakening,

into the house and gate of heaven,

to enter that gate and dwell in that house, 

where there shall be no darkness nor dazzling,

but one equal light;

no noise nor silence, but one equal music;

no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession;

no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity;

in the habitations of Thy glory and dominion,

world without end.

John Donne.

Running free

Owning a dog is so much more rewarding than I expected it to be, especially the walks. We have been a bit careful because Frodo, whilst very gentle and good, has not learned yet to obey many commands... He does now "sit" when we tell him to, and he "stops" and "waits," but we were not sure if he would "come," and we were afraid of losing him... We have been letting him run free in the large garden at Redcliffe because we can close both the gates there. But nowhere else. But I was so looking forward to letting him off the leash on a walk, so that he could run ahead and explore a bit and follow those oh so exciting smells that drive him crazy. But until he knew us well enough and until we trusted him to want to come back, we didn't feel safe letting him off.

But a few days ago I took him to a big field on the edge of a wood, and took courage and set him free. He LOVED it! He ran ahead, ran back, ran around me in circles, followed his nose, rolled in the grass (that is, in something in the grass...) But he kept waiting for me when he got ahead, and if he lost sight of me, he would come tearing back around the corner to find me.

It made me think in a way of God's desire for that relationship with us as his people. Not that we are like his pets as such...  but, what fun it is to have a dog running free and happy alongside me when I am walking, keeping within sight of me and even waiting for me. So much nicer than having him on the leash, knowing he wants to go faster or further but restraining him in case he runs and never comes back. I am sure this is why God gave us free will, so that he could enjoy the Walk with us this much more. To enjoy that mutual love and companionship.

Of course, letting Frodo off means he probably will run away from time to time... Sometimes his love for us gets momentarily forgotten, subsumed by a sudden curiosity, a new, too-tempting smell, a rabbit, a duck... Today in the park, Frodo was suddenly a ball of black fur bombing away from us towards a group of training football players - but he veered off to where their piles of kit lay and I caught up with him as he was rambling around from pile to pile sniffing the men's shoes and jumpers! What I do know is that I will always catch up with him, because I will always chase him as far and as fast as it takes until I find him and get him back. If necessary I'd call the police, even the helicopters! So I also know God gives us freedom and lets us run, but if we are his, he will never lose us to ourselves, or let us completely run away forever, he will never give up on the relationship he has with us. Unlike us getting a dog though, he does not pick us out and dump us into his kingdom and family - that is our choice.

This is a Tibetan terrier but it is not a picture of Frodo (it has more white on the front than Frodo) - but it gives you an idea of how beautiful Frodo looks when he is running towards me. He looks exuberant, and I feel exuberant, to see his fluffy chest hurtling towards me, his front legs bounding forward, his ears flying back in the wind. Even more than this dog Frodo looks as though he is smiling when he bounds towards me. So beautiful. Don't you think God feels this way when we run back to him?

Choosing your metaphors...

A few times in my life, usually when something difficult has been happening, I have had a metaphor or a story pop into my head which interprets for me what is happening. The narrative (to make this sound trendier) can be powerful as a way of understanding and therefore dealing with something real that is happening in one's life.

So to give one soppy example, when I was first in love with Dan and he was leaving England to go back to the US to finish his studies, and we didn't know when we would see each other next, but I was so sad to say goodbye, I had a large pink rose blossom in a little jar on my desk, that we had picked together, and when Dan had gone I pressed the blossom between two heavy books, and I thought to myself that just as I would be able to take the pressed flower out in a few weeks and it would be beautiful forever, so our relationship was being put away for a period of time, but we could come back to it at some as of then unknown time in the future and it would have been preserved in all its beauty. That image helped me in moving on with life in the meantime and finishing my own MA studies.

A couple of months ago, when I was feeling quite discouraged about being so anxious and feeling that it was the result probably of some years of stress and tiredness, an unwelcome image came to me that I was lying on the ground, a broken stick. But soon after that I was reading 2 Corinthians, the passage about having the treasure of God's blessings in jars of clay. I realised that God was showing me I was not useless and hopeless like a broken stick, but rather I was just a slightly worn out clay jar, which he was still using, and could still fix up and beautify for his purposes. That made me feel so much better!

And this weekend, I had a disagreement with someone, which threatened to revive the horrible old anxiety, and at first I felt as though there was a deep round pit full of water which I had been rescued from, but now I had been pushed back into it. But then this morning in church I saw a picture that rather than being back down in that hole, I was like a child who has been pushed over in the playground, but who can get up and brush themselves off and carry on. The metaphor makes all the difference. One story makes me feel defeated and hopeless, the other makes me able to get up and move on. And it makes a real emotional difference to me. The physical feeling of a heavy rock in my stomach melted away. Why are these pictures so powerful? And, where do they come from?

I remember years ago a speaker talking about how God wants us to be, yes of course humble, but also sitting on the throne with him, confident in him, able to sit up straight and to act and make a difference. Satan on the other hand wants us to be cowering on the floor, feeling afraid, doubtful, and useless.

I think these images are spiritual, and the ones that make me able to function and move forward are from God, whilst the ones that make me feel useless, broken, or lacking in confidence and certainty, are not.

I don't mean that God wants us to feel self-confident or complacent or that we are perfect and can do no wrong. But the times when I know I have let God down, he doesn't make me feel like a broken stick. That picture is just not from God. I think he shows us how we have failed but how we can do so much better, how he still loves us even so. You come away from that encounter feeling humble but hopeful and determined, rather than like a failure and useless.

So I think we shouldn't be fooled by the images that pop into our heads. We should think about them and ask, is this story a Godly interpretation of what I am going through? Or is this a way of bringing me down and preventing me from living positively?

I love how pictures are used in the Bible powerfully. One of my favourites is the beginning of Psalm 40 where the writer says, "God lifted me out of the mud and mire, he set my feet upon a rock and put songs of praise in my mouth." That picture is how I want to be.

Setting a tree free.

There is nothing so English as getting out to do a spot of gardening. And to do it on a Sunday afternoon after a large roast lunch is even more English. We must be getting assimilated, as that is exactly what we did today. Actually, I have been wanting to adopt the tradition of making a Sunday roast ever since moving here, as we all love it so much. Today I managed it for the first time. A joint of roast pork with crackling and mustard, roast potatoes, carrots and runner beans, followed by a bowl of toffee ice cream... Something  subconscious must have happened after that, because never in Uganda on a Sunday afternoon did I feel like gardening. I would say, not once, ever. It was too hot, too overgrown, there were too many spiders and ants, and Baker was going to do it anyway...

Even though we are in a rented house, we think we will be here for quite a long time so we have to keep the garden under control at least, and we want it to look nice. I had been wanting to strip the encroaching ivy off the two big old apple trees, and Abby had been wanting to plant out some primroses and other flowers... So we visited the garden centre (another quintessentially English pastime), bought some pots of primroses and a huge blue anenome (my choice), and a welly-boot-puller-offer which we've been wanting, and came home and all four of us then set to it in the garden. It was sunny, warm, satisfying and fun. Honestly we could have been Adam, Eve and their first two children, working away in our own little Eden.

The trunk of the old apple tree felt warm, strong and good, whilst the creeping thin ivy felt evil, determined, and cold... The ivy roots went off into the ground far afield, and the ivy clung onto the tree by millions of little brown threads. The more you pulled at it, the further away and the tougher the roots and tributaries became. The parables were simply flying into my mind! It would be easy just to pull the ivy's leaves off, and the tree would look a lot better, but everything would just grow back. The satisfying thing was in yanking away at the ivy roots as they led away from the tree, even underground, right back to the edge of the garden - knowing that I was really setting the tree free, literally pulling away its chains. I also want to be freed like that. I bet we all do. But it might take some pulling and yanking. It might not feel that good. But so much better afterwards...

We had our piano tuned today - beware... a parable from life coming up...

On a certain day, a man and a woman were given an old, worn out piano which fitted into their kitchen perfectly, and their daughter Abigail did love to play on it. But the piano was exceedingly out of tune after some years of neglect and a rough journey in the back of a clapped out van to cap it all. So Abigail played her beautiful pieces on it, but it sounded mournful, and clangy.

So the man and woman decided to call in the piano tuner. He duly came, and pronounced its condition "dreadful" and he worked on it for several hours... Each string was stretched and wound by its peg at the top, and each string did whine and protest, until it reached its perfect length and tension, and then it did sing beautifully and blend its sound wonderfully with the notes of its brothers and sisters.

Eventually after hours of awful pinging, sighing, and whining, the piano was played and it did sound clear and bright and harmonious, as a piano is supposed to sound. And Abigail and the man and the woman and their son Alex also were exceedingly happy.

Those who have ears to hear, let them hear...


It seemed to me as I listened to the strings of the piano complaining as they were being tuned, that this was a good picture for us humans. We can easily become out of tune, disharmonious and discordant with both God and our fellow human beings, family, neighbours, friends, and it happens, as with a piano, for a number of reasons. Neglect of our spiritual lives is probably the most easy and common cause for this to happen, in small, incremental ways. But also a trauma, or ongoing difficult circumstances around us, can also affect us and send us out of tune. God is the great piano-tuner (?!) and through his Spirit he works on us constantly to bring us to the right place, to be in harmony with him and with our fellows. When we are spiritually in the right place, we make that beautiful, clear tuneful sound that we were designed to make. If we are just a bit off key we can still make a lovely sound, but it is just not as lovely as it is meant to be. But the inevitable result if we don't do something about it when it starts to happen, is that we will end up clangy and horribly discordant and then noone will want to hear that piano played.

Another thing - while the piano is in the process of being tuned, it sounds painful. I don't know if the strings actually feel the pain of being stretched or wound (or maybe in some cases unwound), - but it certainly sounds painful! When God is teaching or moulding us, it can sometimes be painful, or difficult. But what I have found is that, whilst God uses difficult and painful times to teach me things, when he has something to rebuke me about, it is done in the most gentle way a Father could ever use, and is not painful at all, but is merciful and kind.