Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Reflections on caring for a sick child....
I have just laid Matilda down for a rest. We have had a bad night, well it is now a couple of bad nights.
She has, over the last three weeks gone through two courses of antibiotics for recurring ear infections, from last night she is now on her third and strongest dose for a chest infection. I have been watching her most of the night as the medication is not bringing her temperature down properly and much of what medicine and fluid she does take she vomits. I fear that she has become somewhat resistant to the antibiotics as well. We took her to the hospital under advice of the GP, last night. They said she should come back in 48 hours if she isn't any better and that until the antibiotics have a chance to work the best place for her is at home. Part of me is relieved, part scared, am I doing everything right? A question that keeps rebounding round my mind.
So it has been a constant stream of tepid baths, mild camomile teas served in her beaker, cool flannels wiped over her body, stories, lullabies, medicine, vitamin pills and lastly an old remedy of egg whites in her socks which we used last night as a last ditch attmept to bring her temperature down from 40 after she had had all the doses of medicine we could give her. Remarkably, and I say this sincerly as I could not understand how such a strange remedy might possibly work it did actually bringt it down to 38.8 within 15 minutes!
I can only thank my husband's mother who, according to my husband is a " one woman natural pharmacuticul company" There have been many old remedies reccomended from her that I have been pursuaded to try ( such as applying salt on minor burns, underlining minor here, serious burns would need more conventional treatments of course) have you ever tried that though? I tell you it works!!! This is just one example of many may I add!
Looking at my Tilly's sweet face, peacfully sleeping here beside me my heart hurts.
There is a strange feeling of emotions stirring within me. One is fear, cold and clear. That primal, instinct that burns like a fever in itself, gnawing deep down. Shuddering both hot and cold. Yet there is also, strangly, a constant and peripheral sense of peace. Hovering over the heaving waters, that stream and break over me as I tend her. Somehow I 'm being shown in ways I don't truly understand that He is watching, He knows, He hears, He is near. I am so grateful for my faith at times like this, it is the most precious gift. It is times like this that it is really brought into clear relief for me to see. That by imersing myself in His Words, His Love, His Counsel even when I have not felt any immediate consolation is all a preperation for the parched times when I really need to drink deep. Somehow all these things store up in a well within, I think. Somehow I have always felt a profound sense of His presence as a comforter whenever there is illness in the children. I find illness in the children very hard to cope with at times, yet it is at these places, I find Him reaching out to me, His hand upon my shoulder, gentle, still, quietening my mind and my heart. I can't explain it other than there is an almost tangible sense of His presence in the room. This was especially true last night, when I lay next to Tilly, my hand stroking her hair, listening to her breath against me. Her lips scarlet, her face pale, her body like a little hot water bottle simmering under the single cotton sheet.
She was asleep, but her eyes opened once in a while, almost as if she were checking that I was still there. "I'm still here sweetie. Mummy's got you" words almost prayed, in the tepid light.
And she smiled. In her sleep she caught me with her and she smiled. And then another emotion swelled up and rolled over me. One of complete gratitude. I was so thankful that I could be priveliged enough to care for her when she needed me most. That I could be there for her, even as she slept. These moments in a way were a gift to me that brought out everything that matters most into the light, even in the darkness of this bedroom surrounded by sticky medicine syringes, tissue paper, wet flannels and beakers of water and chamomile tea.
And then still something more began to sink into the ebb and flow of my thoughts. Something that made me see with a sudden chill of perspective.
I began to think of all the little ones in this world right now who have no one to wipe their brow or lie down beside them as they sleep, or read them stories to distract them from their discomfort, or rock them gently with a lullaby, over and over and over again till their eyelids droop and their shivering bodies surrender into a healing bath of sleep.
Little ones that have no medicine at all to bring them through endless feverish nights.
And then I prayed, not just for my sweet Tilly but for all the children who are sick in the world right now. Tilly will recover from this bought of sickness, yet for some children in other lands, far from the shores of medical centres, hospitals, new treatments and loving arms, there is no recovery, even for the simplest of illnesses.
And that is an ache I cannot heal within me, because it shouldn't be there. I think He puts the ache there to help me remember this. So I pray, because it is the only medicine I have for this ache.
Dear Lord,
Please be the rocking arms,
The gentle hand,
The cool towel, The soft song,
Be the,
Comforter,
For all who suffer,
Both within and without.
The child with the fever,
The mother with the fire of fear in her heart,
The little one whom no one
watches over,
May Yours be the face
That they see
When they open their eyes
in the empty darkness
Of soft sleep
May Yours be the face,
That they see.
The hands that will touch,
That will heal and
restore,
and renew.
In the morning light.
In Jesus's name
Amen.
She has, over the last three weeks gone through two courses of antibiotics for recurring ear infections, from last night she is now on her third and strongest dose for a chest infection. I have been watching her most of the night as the medication is not bringing her temperature down properly and much of what medicine and fluid she does take she vomits. I fear that she has become somewhat resistant to the antibiotics as well. We took her to the hospital under advice of the GP, last night. They said she should come back in 48 hours if she isn't any better and that until the antibiotics have a chance to work the best place for her is at home. Part of me is relieved, part scared, am I doing everything right? A question that keeps rebounding round my mind.
So it has been a constant stream of tepid baths, mild camomile teas served in her beaker, cool flannels wiped over her body, stories, lullabies, medicine, vitamin pills and lastly an old remedy of egg whites in her socks which we used last night as a last ditch attmept to bring her temperature down from 40 after she had had all the doses of medicine we could give her. Remarkably, and I say this sincerly as I could not understand how such a strange remedy might possibly work it did actually bringt it down to 38.8 within 15 minutes!
I can only thank my husband's mother who, according to my husband is a " one woman natural pharmacuticul company" There have been many old remedies reccomended from her that I have been pursuaded to try ( such as applying salt on minor burns, underlining minor here, serious burns would need more conventional treatments of course) have you ever tried that though? I tell you it works!!! This is just one example of many may I add!
Looking at my Tilly's sweet face, peacfully sleeping here beside me my heart hurts.
There is a strange feeling of emotions stirring within me. One is fear, cold and clear. That primal, instinct that burns like a fever in itself, gnawing deep down. Shuddering both hot and cold. Yet there is also, strangly, a constant and peripheral sense of peace. Hovering over the heaving waters, that stream and break over me as I tend her. Somehow I 'm being shown in ways I don't truly understand that He is watching, He knows, He hears, He is near. I am so grateful for my faith at times like this, it is the most precious gift. It is times like this that it is really brought into clear relief for me to see. That by imersing myself in His Words, His Love, His Counsel even when I have not felt any immediate consolation is all a preperation for the parched times when I really need to drink deep. Somehow all these things store up in a well within, I think. Somehow I have always felt a profound sense of His presence as a comforter whenever there is illness in the children. I find illness in the children very hard to cope with at times, yet it is at these places, I find Him reaching out to me, His hand upon my shoulder, gentle, still, quietening my mind and my heart. I can't explain it other than there is an almost tangible sense of His presence in the room. This was especially true last night, when I lay next to Tilly, my hand stroking her hair, listening to her breath against me. Her lips scarlet, her face pale, her body like a little hot water bottle simmering under the single cotton sheet.
She was asleep, but her eyes opened once in a while, almost as if she were checking that I was still there. "I'm still here sweetie. Mummy's got you" words almost prayed, in the tepid light.
And she smiled. In her sleep she caught me with her and she smiled. And then another emotion swelled up and rolled over me. One of complete gratitude. I was so thankful that I could be priveliged enough to care for her when she needed me most. That I could be there for her, even as she slept. These moments in a way were a gift to me that brought out everything that matters most into the light, even in the darkness of this bedroom surrounded by sticky medicine syringes, tissue paper, wet flannels and beakers of water and chamomile tea.
And then still something more began to sink into the ebb and flow of my thoughts. Something that made me see with a sudden chill of perspective.
I began to think of all the little ones in this world right now who have no one to wipe their brow or lie down beside them as they sleep, or read them stories to distract them from their discomfort, or rock them gently with a lullaby, over and over and over again till their eyelids droop and their shivering bodies surrender into a healing bath of sleep.
Little ones that have no medicine at all to bring them through endless feverish nights.
And then I prayed, not just for my sweet Tilly but for all the children who are sick in the world right now. Tilly will recover from this bought of sickness, yet for some children in other lands, far from the shores of medical centres, hospitals, new treatments and loving arms, there is no recovery, even for the simplest of illnesses.
And that is an ache I cannot heal within me, because it shouldn't be there. I think He puts the ache there to help me remember this. So I pray, because it is the only medicine I have for this ache.
Dear Lord,
Please be the rocking arms,
The gentle hand,
The cool towel, The soft song,
Be the,
Comforter,
For all who suffer,
Both within and without.
The child with the fever,
The mother with the fire of fear in her heart,
The little one whom no one
watches over,
May Yours be the face
That they see
When they open their eyes
in the empty darkness
Of soft sleep
May Yours be the face,
That they see.
The hands that will touch,
That will heal and
restore,
and renew.
In the morning light.
In Jesus's name
Amen.
Friday, December 26, 2008
My Bujana Grace
The name Bujana comes from an ancient illyrian river running between Albania and Kosovo ( now called the Buna).
It flows through Shkodra, the town where Tani was born, toward it's end in the turquoise tides of the Mediteranean sea.
Bujana's second name is Grace.
How telling a name can be! Bujana, our little daughter has been a flow of grace in our lives since the day she was born December 26th Boxing day 2003!!!
The best Christmas present I have ever had, I have to say :0)
The grace she brings to us undulates, trembles, springs, refreshes, rushes, twists, turns, meanders and bubbles with life and joy.
Bujana's second name is Grace.
How telling a name can be! Bujana, our little daughter has been a flow of grace in our lives since the day she was born December 26th Boxing day 2003!!!
The best Christmas present I have ever had, I have to say :0)
The grace she brings to us undulates, trembles, springs, refreshes, rushes, twists, turns, meanders and bubbles with life and joy.
This is our "lil Boo".
Full of life, filled to the brim with exuberance.
When she was born the first thing I noticed about her was her sweet almond shaped brown eyes and her sticky out ears!
At night Tani would often seranade her by playing a little lullaby on the guitar. She always loved music so much and would often respond to it by moving her arms, clapping or babbling along.
Full of life, filled to the brim with exuberance.
When she was born the first thing I noticed about her was her sweet almond shaped brown eyes and her sticky out ears!
At night Tani would often seranade her by playing a little lullaby on the guitar. She always loved music so much and would often respond to it by moving her arms, clapping or babbling along.
She has always loved music just like her Daddy.
We couldn't belive it when she started to talk at a year using full sentances!
By 16 months she was already negotiating and barganing deals by asking for
We couldn't belive it when she started to talk at a year using full sentances!
By 16 months she was already negotiating and barganing deals by asking for
"doclat 'uttons" ( chocolate buttons) whenever she had been particularly obediant!
(What can I say? She's her Mummies girl lol ;)
Once she reached a year and a half she had even started to argue back!
Whenever she was asked to sit at the naughty step for being the cheeky little monkey we've come to know and love, she would simply say...
"But I'm only a baby" In her sweetest most innocent voice.
She is a little character.
Her personality is so strong and individual.
But what I love most about our Boo is her heart. She has a heart of pure gold!
She loves her sisters to bits and cares beautifully for the baby. She adores her animals and cries whenever her sisters hurt themselves. She even talks to the insects and plants in the garden with a gentle , soothing voice and always makes sure her baby doll has a blankie (blanket) before she goes to sleep!
At Easter I was telling the girls the story of Jesus and reading passages from the bible.
When I looked up at the end of the reading I saw Boo staring at her little hands resting upon her lap, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
" I love Jesus so much" she said.
" I don't ever want him to be hurt Mummy"
She always says a lovley prayer before bed when she asks God to care for all the people she loves because "they are so lovley to me"
And then she asks God to help her be a good little girl before thanking him for " the beautiful world with all the lovley creatures"
She has a beautiful little heart!
Sometimes she reminds me of a little bear cub with her brown curls and eyes, her chubby cheeks and little round, button nose, all curled up in a chair with her etcha sketch or a story book with lots of pictures.
When I look at it it's true. Grace and miracles were something she brought us as a gift from heaven when she was born.
If she were a flower she would be a wild poppy.
Red, lively, joyful, bright, cheery, delecate, soft, rare. A real Splash of colour.
She paints patterns all over the blue sky. Like drops of water mixed with sunshine. She is a rainbow!
I love my Boo.
Once she reached a year and a half she had even started to argue back!
Whenever she was asked to sit at the naughty step for being the cheeky little monkey we've come to know and love, she would simply say...
"But I'm only a baby" In her sweetest most innocent voice.
She is a little character.
Her personality is so strong and individual.
But what I love most about our Boo is her heart. She has a heart of pure gold!
She loves her sisters to bits and cares beautifully for the baby. She adores her animals and cries whenever her sisters hurt themselves. She even talks to the insects and plants in the garden with a gentle , soothing voice and always makes sure her baby doll has a blankie (blanket) before she goes to sleep!
At Easter I was telling the girls the story of Jesus and reading passages from the bible.
When I looked up at the end of the reading I saw Boo staring at her little hands resting upon her lap, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
" I love Jesus so much" she said.
" I don't ever want him to be hurt Mummy"
She always says a lovley prayer before bed when she asks God to care for all the people she loves because "they are so lovley to me"
And then she asks God to help her be a good little girl before thanking him for " the beautiful world with all the lovley creatures"
She has a beautiful little heart!
Sometimes she reminds me of a little bear cub with her brown curls and eyes, her chubby cheeks and little round, button nose, all curled up in a chair with her etcha sketch or a story book with lots of pictures.
When I look at it it's true. Grace and miracles were something she brought us as a gift from heaven when she was born.
If she were a flower she would be a wild poppy.
Red, lively, joyful, bright, cheery, delecate, soft, rare. A real Splash of colour.
She paints patterns all over the blue sky. Like drops of water mixed with sunshine. She is a rainbow!
I love my Boo.
And Christmas wil always be extra special because it's her birthday too :0)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
What Gifts might Jesus ask for this Christmas?
Hosea 6:6
For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.
Matthew 9:13
But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."
Micah 6:8
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
Matthew 23:23
"You give a tenth of your mint, dill, and cummin, but have neglected the more important matters of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness.
Matthew 25:34-46
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?
When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?
When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
Matthew 6:20
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.
Matthew 6:25
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?
Luke 6:27
But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,
Matthew 7
Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.
1 Thessesolonians
Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
John 14
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.
John 13:34
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
thE thREE lITTLE tREES...
Three Little Trees
author unknown
Once upon a mountain top, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up. The first little tree looked up at the stars and said: " I want to hold treasure. I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I'll be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!" The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on it's way to the ocean. " I want to be traveling mighty waters and caring powerful kings. I'll be the strongest ship in the world! The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and women worked in a busy town. I don't want to leave the mountain top at all. I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me they'll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world.
Years, passed. The rain came, the sun shone and the little trees grew tall. One day three wood cutters climbed the mountain. The first wood cutter looked at the first tree and said, "This tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his shinning ax, the first tree fell. "Now I shall make a beautiful chest, I shall hold wonderful treasure!" the first tree said.
The second wood cutter looked at the second tree and said, "This tree is strong. It's perfect for me." With a swoop of his shinning ax, the second tree fell. "Now I shall sail mighty waters!" thought the second tree. " I shall be a strong ship for mighty kings!"
The third tree felt her heart sink when the last wood cutter looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven. But the wood cutter never even looked up. "Any kind of tree will do for me." He muttered. With a swoop of his shinning ax, the third tree fell.
The fist tree rejoiced when the wood cutter brought her to a carpenter's shop. But the carpenter fashioned the tree into a feed box for animals. The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold, or treasure. She was coated with saw dust and filled with hay for hungry farm animals. The second tree smiled when the wood cutter took her to a shipyard, but no mighty sailing ship was made that day. Instead the one strong tree was hammered and awed into a simple fishing boat. She was too small and too weak to sail to an ocean, or even a river, instead she was taken to a little lake. The third tree was confused when the wood cutter cut her into strong beams and left her in a lumberyard. "What happened?" The once tall tree wondered. " All I ever wanted was to stay on the mountain top and point to God..."
Many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams. But one night, golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feed box. "I wish I cold make a cradle for him." Her husband whispered. The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the smooth and sturdy wood. " This manger is beautiful." She said. And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.
One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree quietly sailed out into the lake. Soon a thundering and a thrashing storm arose. The little tree shuddered. She new she did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through the wind and the rain. The tired man awoke. He stood up, stretched out his hand, and said, "Peace." The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the king of heaven and earth.
One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten wood pile. She flinched as she was carried through and angry jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a man's hand to her. She felt ugly and harsh and cruel. But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed everything. It had made the third tree strong. And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God. That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.
The next time you feel down because you didn't get what you wanted, sit tight and be happy because God is thinking of something better to give you.
author unknown
Once upon a mountain top, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up. The first little tree looked up at the stars and said: " I want to hold treasure. I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I'll be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!" The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on it's way to the ocean. " I want to be traveling mighty waters and caring powerful kings. I'll be the strongest ship in the world! The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and women worked in a busy town. I don't want to leave the mountain top at all. I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me they'll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world.
Years, passed. The rain came, the sun shone and the little trees grew tall. One day three wood cutters climbed the mountain. The first wood cutter looked at the first tree and said, "This tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his shinning ax, the first tree fell. "Now I shall make a beautiful chest, I shall hold wonderful treasure!" the first tree said.
The second wood cutter looked at the second tree and said, "This tree is strong. It's perfect for me." With a swoop of his shinning ax, the second tree fell. "Now I shall sail mighty waters!" thought the second tree. " I shall be a strong ship for mighty kings!"
The third tree felt her heart sink when the last wood cutter looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven. But the wood cutter never even looked up. "Any kind of tree will do for me." He muttered. With a swoop of his shinning ax, the third tree fell.
The fist tree rejoiced when the wood cutter brought her to a carpenter's shop. But the carpenter fashioned the tree into a feed box for animals. The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold, or treasure. She was coated with saw dust and filled with hay for hungry farm animals. The second tree smiled when the wood cutter took her to a shipyard, but no mighty sailing ship was made that day. Instead the one strong tree was hammered and awed into a simple fishing boat. She was too small and too weak to sail to an ocean, or even a river, instead she was taken to a little lake. The third tree was confused when the wood cutter cut her into strong beams and left her in a lumberyard. "What happened?" The once tall tree wondered. " All I ever wanted was to stay on the mountain top and point to God..."
Many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams. But one night, golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feed box. "I wish I cold make a cradle for him." Her husband whispered. The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the smooth and sturdy wood. " This manger is beautiful." She said. And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.
One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree quietly sailed out into the lake. Soon a thundering and a thrashing storm arose. The little tree shuddered. She new she did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through the wind and the rain. The tired man awoke. He stood up, stretched out his hand, and said, "Peace." The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the king of heaven and earth.
One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten wood pile. She flinched as she was carried through and angry jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a man's hand to her. She felt ugly and harsh and cruel. But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed everything. It had made the third tree strong. And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God. That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.
The next time you feel down because you didn't get what you wanted, sit tight and be happy because God is thinking of something better to give you.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Our angel as "The Angel"
Waiting in the wings for her grand entrace as the Angel Gabriel.
Placing the baby in Mary's arms as the narrator says : " And the angel being come in, said unto her: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. "
Bless her heart! She had to hold her arms up all the way through "It was on a Starry Night" She did it with a smile on her sweet face too :0) That's my girl!
Singing "Away in a Manger, with all her little angel friends.
Thee Ende ~
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Before the Manger
I have a very dear member of my family, who is of a very practical turn of mind.
She likes to say things like, "Yes but you have to live in the real world" and "well you just have to get on with it don't you" And she knows what she is talking about much more than I do, she has lived the most self giving, generous (and hard) life of anyone I know. She knows we love her very dearly (don't you ;0) She is unassumingly wonderful, kind and (though she may not like me to divulge....she has the warmest of hearts.)
From her I have learned so much, gifts of the "soul kind"
And she is right, we (I) do have to live in the real world and yes, we do sometimes, whether we like it or not, just have to get on with it. Circumstances can be harsh, crushingly so.
So I was pondering on all this as I was driving home from the shop this morning, my two year old hiccupping breathless sobs after having a tantrum on the way to the car because she wanted to ride in the trolley instead of her baby sister and there was only space for one.
Mmmm, Yes this is the real world, difficult at times, frustrating, often painful, intimidating, fearful, matierialistic, fast paced, individualistic, and as a Christian I also have to live in it. I can't run and hide, cut myself off, seperate completly and permanently. Jesus certainly didn't.
He " just got on with it."
And so must we all.
You know the old children's song about going on a bear hunt and coming to the forest singing
" you can't go over it, you can't go under it, you have to go through it"
Well we all do have to "go through it" Yet... something very wonderful can happen to the "it" we have to go through when we face struggle with the faith and love and hope of God, I'm thinking. The way this lovely person does, so beautifully, unfalteringly, with dignity and grace. Can I too ?
When there is so much pain there seems no hope, yet we still hope. When there is so much darkness we can't see even our next step, yet we still walk with courage and faith. When we are hurt deeply and intentionally, yet still rise from the ground with love and forgivness in our heart. Something, truly, stunningly wonderful happens. Something that transforms the bleakness, harshness and darkness of the world with the power of God's love.
He does not want us to discard the world, like a piece of litter, He loves the world and all people as we love our own children, but more so, our calling ( my calling) is to live it's sorrows and joys through His gifts of faith, hope and love. To see the beauty in the ugliness and the hope in the darkness.
Which in turn, transforms ourselves, and all those we come in contact with. It adorns the ugliness with authentic beauty, and nurtures hope like a tender shoot through the darkness.
Advent becomes not simply a season, it becomes a way of walking, waiting, loving, being. A walking in faith (to a little stable), a waiting in hope (for the birth of the child), a loving in suffering (the way of the cross the way to life).
So I can walk slow to the the Lords pace. Even when it feels like the world is rushing by like a motion blurred photograph around me, I can take joy from a frost coverered leaf or berry. When there is a pull to buy more and more, I can turn away and instead give more and live a little more simply. And live that simplicity and with hope in my heart. When there is struggle and frustration I can use His love, wisdom and patience to "come through it". When there is mess, and anxiety, I can look to His face and trust, "come throught it."
And in a very small way I can bring that "coming through it" as a gift before the manger.
( With thanks to Kath for the inspiration. we
LOVE you so :0)
She likes to say things like, "Yes but you have to live in the real world" and "well you just have to get on with it don't you" And she knows what she is talking about much more than I do, she has lived the most self giving, generous (and hard) life of anyone I know. She knows we love her very dearly (don't you ;0) She is unassumingly wonderful, kind and (though she may not like me to divulge....she has the warmest of hearts.)
From her I have learned so much, gifts of the "soul kind"
And she is right, we (I) do have to live in the real world and yes, we do sometimes, whether we like it or not, just have to get on with it. Circumstances can be harsh, crushingly so.
So I was pondering on all this as I was driving home from the shop this morning, my two year old hiccupping breathless sobs after having a tantrum on the way to the car because she wanted to ride in the trolley instead of her baby sister and there was only space for one.
Mmmm, Yes this is the real world, difficult at times, frustrating, often painful, intimidating, fearful, matierialistic, fast paced, individualistic, and as a Christian I also have to live in it. I can't run and hide, cut myself off, seperate completly and permanently. Jesus certainly didn't.
He " just got on with it."
And so must we all.
You know the old children's song about going on a bear hunt and coming to the forest singing
" you can't go over it, you can't go under it, you have to go through it"
Well we all do have to "go through it" Yet... something very wonderful can happen to the "it" we have to go through when we face struggle with the faith and love and hope of God, I'm thinking. The way this lovely person does, so beautifully, unfalteringly, with dignity and grace. Can I too ?
When there is so much pain there seems no hope, yet we still hope. When there is so much darkness we can't see even our next step, yet we still walk with courage and faith. When we are hurt deeply and intentionally, yet still rise from the ground with love and forgivness in our heart. Something, truly, stunningly wonderful happens. Something that transforms the bleakness, harshness and darkness of the world with the power of God's love.
He does not want us to discard the world, like a piece of litter, He loves the world and all people as we love our own children, but more so, our calling ( my calling) is to live it's sorrows and joys through His gifts of faith, hope and love. To see the beauty in the ugliness and the hope in the darkness.
Which in turn, transforms ourselves, and all those we come in contact with. It adorns the ugliness with authentic beauty, and nurtures hope like a tender shoot through the darkness.
Advent becomes not simply a season, it becomes a way of walking, waiting, loving, being. A walking in faith (to a little stable), a waiting in hope (for the birth of the child), a loving in suffering (the way of the cross the way to life).
So I can walk slow to the the Lords pace. Even when it feels like the world is rushing by like a motion blurred photograph around me, I can take joy from a frost coverered leaf or berry. When there is a pull to buy more and more, I can turn away and instead give more and live a little more simply. And live that simplicity and with hope in my heart. When there is struggle and frustration I can use His love, wisdom and patience to "come through it". When there is mess, and anxiety, I can look to His face and trust, "come throught it."
And in a very small way I can bring that "coming through it" as a gift before the manger.
( With thanks to Kath for the inspiration. we
LOVE you so :0)
Monday, December 15, 2008
Creating a Manger
"Be Still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10),
Stillness, a word that evokes so many wonderful things for me.
Quietness, peace, acceptance, a listening ear, a raising of the eyes, the planting of the feet.
When I become still, really still, I realise that I am in fact simply waiting. But waiting with a sense of peace, instead of a longing. Advent is the time for waiting isn't it.
But sometimes it's not easy to yield to my heart when my mind is racing with so many things...
So I must try to remember that when I feel myself begin to get caught up in the whir of the wheels of wrapping, organising, making, baking. Crushed under the cogs of last minute preparations, the arrival of sudden guests, the unexpected, unplanned happening that can turn my plans head over heels...
When I find my heart hardened by the length of my lists, falling headfirst into the lie that, Christmas has to look, or be, or sound, or smell, or taste a certain way. Lord,
Please remind me to be still. To sit for a while with you. Take moment by moment. Receive your simplicity and peace so that Christmas can become what it should be. Something far from my own plans and ideals. Something far more simple. Let me let You bring Christmas to me. The way it should be. Cast from your mould, Your form.
It is so easy for me to place more importance upon my actions, (What I do) Instead of on my heart, my prayer, (What I am)
It can be hard to still.
With our doing their is a visible measuring stick. Goals can be set and accomplished for all to see. Results are tangible. The tree, the cookies, the mince pies, the shopping, the nativity, the carol service, the helping here, the volunteering there, the wrapping, the cards, the......
Prayer, (being still) is planting a seed in dark earth.
Results are slow at times, sometimes they remain unknown by the one who prays.
But for all the doing we do, the Child cannot be born in a carved manger or shop front stable, or a perfectly prepared dinner and a beautifully laid table, he does not come wrapped up or signed at the bottom of a card.
He is born through the heart. The heart of each person. In some way in some form.
Our heart is the manger.
And at the busiest times. Advent in particular, isn't prayer (stillness) the prerequisite I must remember. To do all I do prayerfully. Prayer is surely the hinge upon which all my doings should turn.
When it is hard to slow and still as demands press down I must remember that it is at these times I need to still the most.
The stillness that comes from waiting prayerfully changes things from the inside out, from within, preparing our work, preparing the grounds, giving strength and wisdom and grace so we may do our work well.
I was thinking as I wrote this that work without prayer is a little like sacrifice without love as Saint Paul puts it: "If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, enough to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions and hand over my body to be burnt but do not have love, I gain nothing."
In sculpture their is a term often used called "negative spaces" which describes the area around and within the sculpture as a form in it's own right. The form created by the artist is held in tension with the negative spaces of emptiness surrounding it and within it. It is these spaces of emptiness that create the very definition of the solid form.
"A Vessel is useful only through it's emptiness. "
Leo Tse
Sometimes I think that prayer works as a these negative spaces do. Almost unnoticed, yet opening windows of space and light along life's paths.
So... I pray that I will find the still places, the negative spaces, dwell for a while, So that the form of my own sculpture begins to fit His mould, His form, a little more.
Carve out a space, a warm place, within my own heart for the Christ's Child to be born.
Stillness, a word that evokes so many wonderful things for me.
Quietness, peace, acceptance, a listening ear, a raising of the eyes, the planting of the feet.
When I become still, really still, I realise that I am in fact simply waiting. But waiting with a sense of peace, instead of a longing. Advent is the time for waiting isn't it.
But sometimes it's not easy to yield to my heart when my mind is racing with so many things...
So I must try to remember that when I feel myself begin to get caught up in the whir of the wheels of wrapping, organising, making, baking. Crushed under the cogs of last minute preparations, the arrival of sudden guests, the unexpected, unplanned happening that can turn my plans head over heels...
When I find my heart hardened by the length of my lists, falling headfirst into the lie that, Christmas has to look, or be, or sound, or smell, or taste a certain way. Lord,
Please remind me to be still. To sit for a while with you. Take moment by moment. Receive your simplicity and peace so that Christmas can become what it should be. Something far from my own plans and ideals. Something far more simple. Let me let You bring Christmas to me. The way it should be. Cast from your mould, Your form.
It is so easy for me to place more importance upon my actions, (What I do) Instead of on my heart, my prayer, (What I am)
It can be hard to still.
With our doing their is a visible measuring stick. Goals can be set and accomplished for all to see. Results are tangible. The tree, the cookies, the mince pies, the shopping, the nativity, the carol service, the helping here, the volunteering there, the wrapping, the cards, the......
Prayer, (being still) is planting a seed in dark earth.
Results are slow at times, sometimes they remain unknown by the one who prays.
But for all the doing we do, the Child cannot be born in a carved manger or shop front stable, or a perfectly prepared dinner and a beautifully laid table, he does not come wrapped up or signed at the bottom of a card.
He is born through the heart. The heart of each person. In some way in some form.
Our heart is the manger.
And at the busiest times. Advent in particular, isn't prayer (stillness) the prerequisite I must remember. To do all I do prayerfully. Prayer is surely the hinge upon which all my doings should turn.
When it is hard to slow and still as demands press down I must remember that it is at these times I need to still the most.
The stillness that comes from waiting prayerfully changes things from the inside out, from within, preparing our work, preparing the grounds, giving strength and wisdom and grace so we may do our work well.
I was thinking as I wrote this that work without prayer is a little like sacrifice without love as Saint Paul puts it: "If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have prophetic powers and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, enough to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions and hand over my body to be burnt but do not have love, I gain nothing."
In sculpture their is a term often used called "negative spaces" which describes the area around and within the sculpture as a form in it's own right. The form created by the artist is held in tension with the negative spaces of emptiness surrounding it and within it. It is these spaces of emptiness that create the very definition of the solid form.
"A Vessel is useful only through it's emptiness. "
Leo Tse
Sometimes I think that prayer works as a these negative spaces do. Almost unnoticed, yet opening windows of space and light along life's paths.
So... I pray that I will find the still places, the negative spaces, dwell for a while, So that the form of my own sculpture begins to fit His mould, His form, a little more.
Carve out a space, a warm place, within my own heart for the Christ's Child to be born.
Friday, December 12, 2008
My Gift
What gift can I bring you Lord,
My hands are empty.
Yet, still I search,
the darkness of this night,
My hand pressed upon,
the frost bitten glass.
My gift melts upon these
fingertips as flakes
of snow,
It folds,
Into the earth
As a sodden leaf.
*
Once golden brilliance
upon the gilded branch,
Of another time.
These words that I offer are,
But a child's prayer,
For anything more is too wonderful for me,
to grasp,
and hold, wrap up,
and keep.
In shiny paper, or a musical box,
Or make,
Or own,
Or know.
Maybe you want no other gift,
But these empty hands of mine.
Cold and frozen
as they are,
You do not flinch,
from their touch.
I hear
Your voice in the soft breath of
dawn light,
The first stirring
of a sleeping babe.
In the vapor
of mist that rises,
From the water's edge,
From the water's edge,
I hear...
You say, You say
Hold out your
empty hands my child.
They are a gift,
your empty hands.
For only empty hands can
Cradle the babe,
Take mine in theirs to
follow my way.
Recieve the nails,
and cup
the Host,
Embrace
my Love,
Your hands
Enclose
All that I need,
Unwrapped, unclothed
Your poverty,
Your gift to me.
Your gift to me.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Days of Winter
I was hoping to upload these a couple of days back but we have all been suffering the effects of winter coughs 'n' colds and other ugly bugs!) So we have been spending time watching far to many family christmas movies for our own good and drinking down lots of honey and lemon tea ( we've gone through three jars!!! over the last couple of weeks.
Anyway as they say a picture ( or ten) speaks a thousand words and as I've pretty much lost my voice anyway I'm liking the sound of silence right now :0)
Peace and Blessings to all :0)
Friday, December 05, 2008
Beneath the Surface
It’s amazing how even the smallest stones in the depths of the river effect the way the water moves at the surface.
The softly spoken reflections of the artist Andy Goldsworthy surveying the “Rivers and Tides” that are the living canvas of his own work.
Art always seeks to reveal the hidden. Find the cause behind the effect.
And although seemingly obscure, even the smallest particle of dust contains within it, the memory of a supernova. In the hidden depths of our heart, we also contain a memory. A memory that its stirred during advent in the way a seed stirs in the frozen, clay soil of winter.
And although seemingly obscure, even the smallest particle of dust contains within it, the memory of a supernova. In the hidden depths of our heart, we also contain a memory. A memory that its stirred during advent in the way a seed stirs in the frozen, clay soil of winter.
Awoken slowly by a breath of warmth.
A breath of Hope amidst the barren effects of a cold season.
Along the embankments muddy reddened iron pebbles sunken into the riverbeds like red blood cells. Releasing unseen energy and nutrients that feed the life of the water. The small grey slates, plain and ordinary shifting placidly like miniture platlets in the cold depths.
All, in their way, choreographing the dance of currents and ripples that collide and tangle like silk ribbons along the river’s surface.
These unseen things effecting the seen.All, in their way, choreographing the dance of currents and ripples that collide and tangle like silk ribbons along the river’s surface.
- A prayer for the one we love.
- An unnoticed, sacrifice offered once again without hesitation.
- A father’s blessing for his grown child.
- A friendly welcome for a stranger
- The hope to keep forgiving.
- A place of communion carved out of chaos, Before the storms calm with words of faith that whisper “Peace be still”
- A heart that can yeild and remain still to hear that same whisper amongst the clatter of pots and pans and streaming tears.
- As well as in the singing of childish songs never forgotten.
- Sincerity offered, to a jaded ear.
- A joyful reminder returned gratefully to a weary heart.
- The bringing of hope’s candle in the dark corners of the world.
- A gift freely given,
- A Bread broken apart.
And shared out.
Under the surface, unseen, hidden, waiting.
Preparing a course for the rising waters.
Digging deep in the times of drought.
Channelling, streams back to their source.
Each prayer, each sacrifice, each kind word, a gift.
Recieved and given back with in an open palm.
In Advent there is much happening beneath the surface of tinsel and trinkets and gift wrap and holly wreaths of commerciality.
A child is soon to be born in a poor stable in an out of the way town. A place hidden from obvious view.
His birth announced first to the poor, the lowly, the humble and childlike. The ones who are hidden, obscure, unknown, unassuming, unremembered.
Bearing “Beneath the surface” gifts for the babe in the manger. Gifts of the heart.
Each one a small shell that carries the song of the sea as a memory within, till once again the waves reclaim it as their own.
Rising and falling, rising and falling beneath hope's breath.
*
Blaise Pascal:
"The least movement is of importance to all nature. The entire ocean is affected by a pebble."
Thanking study in brown for the reccomendation of Rivers and Tides
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