SMILEY FACE

GULFS OF GRATITUDE

LOOSEN

ETERNAL YET

PANDEMIC

ON THE HORIZON

Photo is one I took of a long wind-flattened hedge near Wickersley Wood

ANXIETY: PALE ROBBER

(This one's for all my friends struggling bravely in so many upsetting situations at the moment. Thinking you're alone. Please know you're not.)


A mirror distorting joy into a gargoyle.
A telescope bringing terror close as skin.
A magnifying glass of grief's despairing.

Anxiety.

A doubling of fears, a blank forgetting
A tripling of turmoil numbing drives and dreams
A well of weeping drags tomorrow under

Anxiety.

A deafening to birdsong and love's murmur
A toiling twice up every harrowing hill
A thief of calm, a churning, an abyss

Anxiety.

Hope? Oiled perfume drizzled on dry dead feelings
Hope? Soft palms cupping the frayed and fraught
Hope? The return, rebirth, the restoration
Of all that pale robber plunders from the heart.


(The photos here hint at the truth that I find my personal hope and comfort in the natural world and wonder of creation and creativity. May you bless yourself as you deserve to, by allowing yourself to drink from the fountain of your own deepest joys, to heal your heart when it feels lost in that fog of anxiety and helplessness. Thank you so much for stopping by!)

TREES OF HOPE

If this resonates with you,  you may also be interested in my other blog which I wrote from 2010-2012 about my journey with the autoimmune conditions M.E. and Type 1 Diabetes
M.E. MYSELF AND I ASK YOU

Thank you so much for dropping by and for your comments, shares and wonderful encouragement along the way!

I cannot fall through you

This valley runs between wrists

That weighed a world and found it worth the cradling

Cushioning fingertips that meet in mercy

Touching wet cheeks that turn the other way

The trinity of joints that lift my sinking

Balancing grace like rain that falls to quench

Pleading

Coaxing

Holding

Bolstering

Cherishing hands

Underpinning my downward spirals

Undergirding the flimsy in me

Stabilising with a parent's tender

Soothing the bruises

Handling hurts like gathering gossamer

Filbert nails point forward, onward, upward

No fluster or waggle

No matter how fragile

Patient palms

Nurturing, nestling

I cannot fall through you

My Lord, my All.

From little seeds...

SEEDS SOWN TODAY...

Dreams are the seeds of change. Nothing ever grows without a seed, and nothing ever changes without a dream. (Debby Boone)

 A friend gave me two lots of seeds for Christmas.
Spring now, so it's time I got them planted.

One set contains seeds of favourite kitchen herbs: coriander, chives, basil and curly parsley.
The other is fruits: alpine strawberry, honeydew melon, sugar baby melon and kiwi fruit. 

Love them all! So I got started today and tipped half the compost into the seed tray provided. Into each of the four little compartments I sprinkled the different miniscule natural jack-in-a-boxes, all ready to burst and sprout with goodies later on!

Nom nom nom! Can't wait! (Gonna have to!)

Being me, even this simple operation wasn't without setback. I covered the seeds with the rest of the dry compost. To save my limited energy, I decided not to go digging out my watering spray but stuck the whole tray under the tap to moisten.

You guessed it! Turned on the tap (faucet, for my American chums) and - nothing. Zilch. Waited, turned at bit further...nothing...nothing.... then a quick burst of Niagara Falls and half the seeds and compost were in the plughole down the sink.

So another clean up job, not saving any energy, natch!

This was a really neat kit. The lid of the each seed pack doubled as a sun-trapping top for the little propagators.
Popped the perspex lid over each of the two sets of seeds and - four different patches of fertile ground with seeds sleeping till the right moment for sprouting luciously for dinners, salads and general munching delights!

My mouth's watering already!
Watch this space! 

"To see things in the seed, that is genius" - Lao Tzu

Epiphany and Twelfth Day already!

I'd like to say I "can't believe" I haven't blogged for two months, but unfortunately, I can well believe myself capable of getting so behind with it! Sorry to the invisible footfallers who may have given up on me by now. You can guess what at least one of my New Year's resolutions is, blog-wise.

It's already January 6th and with Epiphany celebrated today, the New Year is already well started. "Well begun is half done" is a saying I've always had a bit of trouble with!

Jesus' family didn't have the luxury of procrastination after the visit of the Magi we remember today. For them, it was the urgent misery of having to flee for their lives away from the malevolent intentions of the ruling powers, as Herod thundered threats against the firstborn children of Israel.

As people all over this land pack away the tinsel and tree decorations for another year, there are urgent fears in so many hearts, that we may long to flee from, but know we must ultimately embrace. Jesus escaped Herod for that season to live and do his work of love, but knew the road to freedom also led to the Cross. 

Changing times of austerity and profound disillusion, as well as the ongoing suffering and grief of our fellow travellers in every curved corner of the globe, might beckon us to despair or cold cynicism if we could not trust in our Father with the quiet strength and vulnerability of that child in his mother's arms on the donkey trek towards a life of costly love.


A friend once gave me a card with this quote from Saint Teresa of Avila. I always keep this vision close to my heart when faced with the darkness of fears and "impossibilities", and a future that seems uncertain if we concentrate solely on the situation in our foreground:


Let nothing disturb you,
Nothing frighten you;
All things are passing;
God never changes;
Patient endurance
Attains to all things;
Who God possesses
In nothing is wanting;
Alone God suffices.

I believe with all my heart that this isn't just a naive wish skipping through cloud cuckoo land. It looks the cruelties and injustices of the human condition right in the eye and motors forward with determination and grit founded on a truth too wonderful to dissect or explain away. Others will find other ways to cope and live, of course, as they choose, but this is the way I've chosen, the Way who speaks to me and calls my name through the weeping.

It's what I pray for all my friends this New Year. 

May your 2011 be blessed and bolstered by the touch of the One who loves you more than you can believe.

Never too late

I decided this year to try a different approach with one of my favourite flowers, the humble Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus, Latin fans!). 


One year I had the whole conservatory at the Manse filled with blooms. Cut and come again from July to late September. Most visitors, friends, bereaved, wedding and baptism couples went away that year with armfuls of the glorious blooms. That started out as an unplanned indoor display. I'd had them potted up, three seeds per pot, on the east facing conservatory windowsills, intending to transfer them to the garden once established. The transfer never happened and the sweet peas joyfully took over every available inch of window space, like rainbow stained glass letting in the morning's lemony light.


When I moved into my retirement house a few minutes' walk away, I still have an easterly facing conservatory, but planted up my sweet peas at the far end of the garden, trellised against the fence under the fruit tree. The ground was very stony and the earth quite thin under there; the snails had a field day, so I put down piles of bran which the little darlings gorged on instead and left the pea shoots alone (mostly!). The sweet peas thrived but could only be seen in the distance from the house.


So this year, I planted some in one of the hanging baskets closest to the house. Nothing seemed to be happening much for ages. July came and went. August too; one visitor said her Sweet Peas had flowered and finished ages ago. Then today, at last, among the tendrils and leaves, one bloom, promising more to come. Not just any bloom, but a rich purple, one of my favourite colours.


Spring is beautiful; but Autumn speaks of God's love, too, and it's never too late for the hidden seed to blossom.

Ascension

We lost and found you

At your rising

Your going made us real

As we found ourselves found

The seed falls silent

To the wombing earth

New life

Draws longing eyes up

Up to Heaven's horizon

My budding Robinia Pseudoacacia "Frisia"