Category: blog

the joy of watching a squirrel hang by the tip of his tail to reach the suet,
then the elegant swirl of grey and gold; the puff of snow as gravity reclaims sovereignty.

Thank God for snow.

I’m ready for it to melt now (urgently) but thank God for snow.

I expected the days after Christmas to be filled with godchildren.  But ice at my end, and swine flu at theirs meant that we all stayed home.   And, as much as I wanted to see them, this seems to have been exactly what I needed.

Of course, I was tired after Christmas.  We all are.  But I was totally unprepared how deep the tiredness went and how welcome the days of silence would be.  On Monday, I have a vague memory of time stretching to infinity.  I think I made cookies.  I tidied the kitchen.  I read a bit.  I taught Molly how to knit. That’s all I remember.

Tuesday was much the same — though it was the study rather than the kitchen that got cleaned, and I progressed from fiction to biography (a rare genre for me — but when I was in Chester, Rowan William’s biography was the closest thing I could find to theology, and I bought it…).  Molly learned to make rice pudding.

Wednesday was the short thaw.  I bravely oh so bravely went to buy birdseed, and that was me done for the day.

Thursday was supposed to be ‘back to work’.  But I woke up shivering and coughing, and spent the day reading  and playing with my diaries instead. (Molly learned about discursive styles in Luke’s  parables.)  I suspect that as real as the symptoms were it was mostly in my head — my body saying ‘not quite yet.  we’re not done with this resting business’.

I’ve watched a cut on my hand heal, and have been amazed at how much faster that happens when stress is low.   I’ve watched emotions heal as I try to learn from some things that are difficult, and try to let other things go.  (no scalpels yet, in this process of discernment,  just room to breath).

It has been a gracious, much needed time when eternity broke through the normal routine, and snow created sabbath.

I hope your Christmas has been similarly blessed by long slow days full of what you needed.

And now to begin again: striving this year to live from the gifts of God’s spaciousness instead of the drivenness of resolutions and the so-tempting lists of things I will try to reform.

I’ve just discovered a friend’s blog, after she discovered mine.

Haven’t had time to read it yet, but found the perfect video for all who want a few moments of distraction amidst the Christmas rush.

So, I’m a timid sort when it comes to ice.

Last week I sugggested we candel the choir rehearsal and the 80 year olds all laughted at me and put their boots on.

So, not much gets me to venture out.
Not much, not least, when there are sermons to write and pew sheets to print off, and a church to polish and decorate.

But out I go, to buy sherry for the Midnight service, and to pick up the candy canes at the post office.

Liturgical necessities, you see.  Along with — it seems — small silver stars.

But next year, would someone please remind me that — if you ask them nicely and in plenty of time — Tesco’s delivers.  And they won’t even know they can’t get the lorry up the drive till it’s too late, and then the driver might just be persuaded to carry the box straight through the church door…

Off I go.