Lovely Promising Bits of Life

 

Isn't it amazing how often a stony place can bring forth unexpected new life? 

 

After so much time off line I still don't really have anything I can say accept that,

 just like the photo,

there is still  lot of contrast going on between comparative barrenness

 and

some lovely refreshing bits of life for me.  

Just now I am waiting for more test results and hoping there will be indications of what is going on. 

(For those who were kind enough to ask, and I said I was o.k., - I was wrong!)

When I feel more able I will post some of the bits of loveliness,

 but until then how about this? 

As the title suggests it really is a song I find difficult to end once I start to sing.

How about you?

Blessings

Chaos (continued)

Recently, each time I have thought I am getting my life back on track
something has happened to throw me completely.

It's as if I'm being taught some in depth lessons on
chaos and un-predictability.


 

Not that it's all there is,

just that I am being forced to see anew how necessary it is.
 

 

It is the space where we are forced to look and look again.

To make priorities.

To sift the dross,

finding what to discard and what to keep.

 

 The precursor to new discoveries,

new creation,

even resurrection?

 

It's not that I like being unreliable,

or being uncertain whether I will be able to finish what I start.

I certainly don't like being wary about whether
I'll be able to get away for the week we've booked,
or even how we will travel;
but this too is part of the whole.

 

“Chaos is what we've lost touch with.

This is why it is given a bad name.

It is feared by the dominant archetype of our world, which is Ego,

which clenches because its existence is defined in terms of control.”

                                                                      Terence Mc Kenna

Blessings
 

 

 

 

More of the Same, but Indooors

 

I think things are getting back to normal re. my strength and energy levels

 as this morning I went for a foray around the ground floor with my friend Henry.

 

Despite his look of coy invitation,

it is over a month since my home received Henry's ministrations.

 

Hubby had offered his services

 but our floors hadn't reached a sufficient level of crunchiness to risk

putting his "that'll do" attitude to cleaning,

versus my pernicketyness,

 to the test.

 

I admit that as my energy levels have risen this week

 Henry has not been my first port of call.

 

First dibs on my energy went on two oil paintings I re-started.

Here's one that still has quite a way to go.

 

Strange I should think of vacuuming ,

and not going into the studio and picking up my brushes.

as

 "getting back to normal",

 

Well, not so strange when you think of the strict housewifely rules

which were integral to so much of my growing up. 

 

Perhaps I really am learning to "accept the chaos"

 (mentioned in the post My Father is the Gardener)

 in ever more ways.

 

It would be great if a decrease in my pernickety inner ctritic

 could mean an increase in the acceptance of myself and others.

Maybe an increase in such tolerance might even lead

 to an increase in internal or physical energy...?

 

*

 

We all have

 this critical voice,

 so internalised ,

we have long accepted it's demands as our own.

I pray this weekend you will find new freedom to

silence any such harrying voice,

and to hear,

 and make your own,

 the sweet acceptance of all you are;

messy bits and all.

 

Eph 1:6 He has made us accepted in the beloved.

Blessings

 

It's no good looking at me like that Henry,

I don't know when you're coming out again.

 

 

 

 

My Father is the Gardener

 This year, after a late start,

 I am overwhelmed by the lushness of the garden.

 

More than ever

 I am aware of the layers of foliage and colour.

 

 

 So much is in a state

of becoming. . .

 

 

New delights are being formed

by the layers growing from underneath.

 

The fullness of the layers

which have sat so long in place

are pierced and pushed aside

by things I have hardly been aware was there.

 

 There are still the patches where

things haven't really come to growth of course.

 

 

There are other corners

as thick with weed

as the the rest is full of verdure.

 

There they are,

deeply rooted,

and as much part of the whole as what sits on top.

 

 

Almost in the same instant I spy them I remember,

my "Father is the gardener."
 

I remember the urgent need of clearing and pruning.

 

 

Still and all,

I guess I am changing along with the garden,

because

I find myself relaxing.
 

I can forgive the chaos, and accept it,

along with the beauty. 

 

Just the way the Father of our spirits does.

(Heb.12:9)

 

 

 

Be Blessed

 

 

 

The Ups and Downs

Been off-line again due to my health being up and down,

 and my absurdly disappearing energy levels.

 

If I had to visualise the way it feels it would be something like

 this photograph taken from inside a crevasse.

 

 

                                                                                         photo:- Times.co.uk
 

There are times of strength and energy when I feel great,

then suddenly I fall through the hole into utter weakness and weariness.

 

My emotions follow the graph. 

Up and down I go.

Full of joy

t

h

e

n

crying with exhaustion.

 

Sure I've been in similar places before,

 brought by different routes.

 

The heart's anchor appears not to hold.

Discipline which once stilled the soul

 becomes a circle of chattering thoughts.

 

I know the temptation so well.

 

Do not believe.

There is nothing,

nobody.

 

I am not strong

 or even faithful

as I twist and turn in the whirlpool of unresolved thought.

 

The Word comes easily to my memory,

seeming to be neither shield nor sword.

 

I repeat what I once believed,

and not believing, add

 "Help Thou my unbelief"

to the litany.

 

 The prayer of His name sits in every breath,

and still I do not believe.

 

In the end it is a choice.

I remember how it says He set His face like flint...

 

Still not believing

 I set my face to believe.

 

"Fool".

The unrelenting thread goes on,

"Worse,  I am lying to myself..."

But truly I have been this way before.

 

As I make the choice

I come home. 

 

The crevasse is still as deep.

I choose again...

 

"If I go up to heaven you are there,

 if I make my bed in Sheol you are there."

Psalm 139:8

 

Blessings

 

 

P.S.  If you can recognise any of this read http://blueeyedennis-siempre.blogspot.co.uk/ new post

         Blessing in the Chaos.   

 

Wait in Jerusalem...

 

 

I wasn't well enough to be in church this morning,

 but as I lay waking Jesus' words from the Pentecost reading,

that the disciples should

"wait in Jerusalem"

were playing in my mind and heart.

Acts1:

4And while staying^awith them he ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem,

 but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, he said, “you heard from me;

 5for John baptized with water,

but you will be baptized with^b the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”

In the branch of the church I'm familiar with there seems to be a great rush

to be in the middle of the action of the Holy Spirit, wherever that may be. 

 There always seems to be a conference or a meeting that is the next,

or the definitive ,

"how to".

We are enticed by the invitation to learn quickly,

or to attempt to import what the Spirit is doing in another place,

 or through another ministry.

Of course it speaks of a hunger to be part of the work of God

which is wholely commendable, and yet...

I wonder sometimes are we so hungry for the gifts and ministries, 

 the miracles and wonders, 

 we bypass the desire to wait for, and on,

the Giver of Life and the Holy Spirit Himself,

 for His own sake.

 It is as though we are always on the look out

 for a set of "rules", "principles", or "practices",

 which takes us
away  from the vulnerability of knowing nothing but
our total reliance on the fresh inspiration,

literally Spirit breathed,

 in the present moment.

I admit my own life and temperament has shaped me towards the contemplative.

 

I have lived long enough to know

the merit in the desert father's instruction to

"stay in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything." 

 

Long enough too, to have experienced for myself

 the wonderful power of the Holy Spirit

 to heal physically, spiritually, and emotionally,

both in my own life and those around me.

 

  The Lord who knows us so intimately,

 and who is so abundant in His love

 delights to teach us anew 

to meet our unique and particular circumstance.

 

Don't get me wrong:

 I do not see the waiting in our own particular "Jerusalem",

and seeking teaching by somebody moving in His power as mutually exclusive,

and am not advocating an independent stance,

it's just that our human need to know

 "how to",

(and thus keep a little control or build ourselves a little platform perhaps?)

is very seductive.

 

Seeing the Holy Spirit at work is always
an awe inspiring experience.

 

Just being there,

knowing nothing,

 trusting in Him alone, 

spoils you for anything else.

 

At least, so it seems to me.

 

Be Blessed.

 

I'm sure I've expressed myself badly,

and even if I've not you may see things very differently.

Perhaps you will let me know... 

An Update



I've been off-blog for a while due to eye problems

and a virus which seems reluctant to leave,

making me particularly poorly this last week.

Still I have had a lovely birthday whilst I've been off line.

 

Here's a glimpse of my birthday flowers

 and my great grand son Zachary helping me
blow out the candles on my cake.

 

 

 

Not sure I'll get to celebrate Pentecost in church tomorrow
 but as 2 Cor.3 :17 tells us,

Now the Lord is the Spirit,
and where the Spirit of the Lord is,
 there is liberty.

May you be blessed richly with the
 Holy Spirit of Truth, Life, and Liberty.


(Thank you for your concern Lynda.
You nudged me into posting. x)

 

Fear Not, -This isn't About Washing Tips

 Got a lovely new throw for our sofa

and yesterday found a ball point pen had left 

three large, sticky, blobs of ink

 right in the middle of it 

so had no choice but to try and tackle the stain 

straight away.

To my delight most of the ink came out

 just with cold water and soap 

though I was amazed at the amount of ink stain
once it was released into the water.
A sink full of deep blue water remained,

but at last I was left with only faint marks

which I hoped would disappear entirely

 once the throw had been washed.

It was only as I loaded it into the washing machine

 I saw the label telling me

 DRY CLEAN ONLY.

 The sopping material in my hands emphasised

TOO LATE NOW!

 At the end of the wash cycle

 to my relief I saw the material was un-damaged.

The fringing however was tied up in absolute knots. 

 I tried to untangle it but without much success.

Anyway, the cold wind was persisting and the day was dry,
 so on to the line it went,

tossing and dancing with each new gust.

Even so I couldn't resist reaching out to have another go at unravelling the tangled skeins.

Why do I find it so hard to simply give in sometimes?

With a tug the dancing wind whisked the threads 
from between my fingers 
and at last I let go.

I know it may be elementary common sense 

that the yarn should be easier to tease apart and untangle 
once it was dried,

 but it was only as I disentangled the fringe on the dry throw,

each silky strand 

falling into place through my fingers,

 the penny dropped.

How often do I fret and worry at a problem,
not able to let it go,

 only to feel it become more impenetrable.

Once I can release the tightened strands of my life

 to the wind of the Spirit,

a new dance of freedom can begin.

The act of relinquishment,

of knowing my place in the scheme of things,

of above all knowing His,

opens the way to new outcomes I could never bring about.

Spirit of God, unseen as the wind

Author: Margaret Old
Refrain:

Spirit of God, unseen as the wind,
gentle as is the dove:
teach us the truth and help us believe,
show us the Saviour's love!

You spoke to us - long, long ago -
gave us the written word;
we read it still, needing its truth,
through it God's voice is heard.

Refrain

Without your help we fail our Lord,
we cannot live his way;
we need your power, we need your strength,
following Christ each day.

Refrain

P.S.  Back to the mundane - here's my newly washed throw, complete with straightened fringe!

Blessings

Never Judge a Book...

 

If you had been in my beloved park this morning 

you might have seen a lady of a certain age 

wearing a purple padded coat, 

with a cerise scarf wound high around the collar, 

and a knitted grey hat pulled low over the ears in an effort

 to close any chinks against the still bitter wind.

Drawing close enough you would also have seen a pair of streaming red eyes,

and realised what you had taken for

 a reddish-brown Hitler-style moustache

 is, in reality, a super crop of cold sores. 

Seeing all this set off by a puffy white face,

 with the sound effects

 being somewhat puffy as well  

might have caused you to think,

 in your compassionate way, 

"Poor old duck!"

Dear readers,

 that poor old duck was me,

and though outwardly I looked a pretty miserable specimen

inwardly I was rejoicing

because for the last 6 weeks or so I've had a re-occurring virus,

(hence the still streaming eyes, etc),

and today was the first time since it's start I felt up to a walk.

Almost felt like a young catkin instead of an old nut!

Hope you feel the same!

Blessings

Be Grateful for Yourself!

T'other day Granddaughter Number Two (21)

was bemoaning the fact she had to leave 

just as Great Grandson Number One (5) 

had arrived.

"I feel bad now" she said.

"Don't feel bad!

It's a great day!

You are beautiful!

Be grateful for yourself and don't feel bad!

Feel good!"

Great Grandson (5) said.

I can't ever remember thinking thoughts like that

 when I was five years old can you?

Marvelling above all that he has learnt 

we can, and should, be grateful for ourselves;

a lesson I was late coming to,

and am still coming to.

I pray he holds on to the light in his spirit.

I pray the light in his spirit touches yours today.

This song by Luka Bloom is sung for St. Brigid's Day, Feb 1st,

the start of the Celtic spring. 

  As we are still waiting for spring, 

and the sentiments are eternal, hope you enjoy it!
(Thanks for introducing me to it Phil!  Blue Eyed Ennis )

Be Blessed