iggandfriends

Life, crafty stuff, long walks, thoughts, and little oddities.


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Awaken the dawn

In the early morn

When the waiting seems so long

And the darkness empty

I watch the horizon

Listen to the awakening

The songs of birds

Angels

Impatient

Until

The first light

Brushes the sky

The sun rises

from death’s dark night

into the beginning of a new day

The dawn of life

easter sun

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

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Uphill climb

One step forward and two back. An old adage, but that’s what life sometimes feels like. Strolling on the beach is great, but then something will occur – not anything major; perhaps a change of mood or a change in the weather, destructive thoughts, careless words – and suddenly I’m climbing up a steep cliff, hanging grimly on as the slope seems to shift and move around me. Often the beginning of the struggle is indiscernible. Where did the scramble start? This is a questioning time in my life. While I am sure that God wants me here, in this time, in this place, often it would be have been easier to stay in my previous existence. Safe, secure, just getting on with life. Sure of what I’m meant to be doing and why.

Pausing is dangerous. It makes you think. And pray. And deal with issues you might not want to tackle. And pray again. How do you let go of the previous situation, how do you relinquish all the work you’ve put in? How do you stop? How do you be? And when all the labels, all the layers are stripped away, who is left underneath them? At times there is a deafening silence. I find myself reminded of Elijah in the Old Testament, who after wind and storm hears the still voice of God in that very silence. At times the only answer is an inward knowledge and calm that I am loved, wanted and adored by God. That the labels pinned on me by myself and society are actually not of any value to him. He has no need of them. It doesn’t stop the questioning, the thinking, the process of relearning to live. But it is there as a steady assurance. I am his and he is mine and that is all.

I saw this piece of driftwood on the beach today. I haven’t moved it into position. This is how I found it. Climbing the slope to the top. It reminded me that in my struggles, he is there with me. He has climbed this cliff as well, and now he climbs it again, with me.Climbing cross

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. I Kings 19:9ff

 

 


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Sunflowers and waiting

A bitter north wind blows around the house. Banging at windows and doors as though to seek entry. The fire in the hearth fights back defiantly, spitting up the chimney. I sit barricaded against the cold, quilt thrown over me. Hands occupied with stitching, the picture slowly forms.

A sunflower for a friend, cheery colours in the winter dusk. My mind wanders back to the summer. Sunflowers nodding their heads in the garden. Planted as part of Good Friday meditations, they took until late August to come into bloom. A period of waiting, of expectation. Of watering, care, nurture. Finally the buds were seen. They slowly opened out, blossoming in the heat. Following the sun with their faces.

Hands occupied with stitching, the picture slowly forms. Seeds planted. I wait for the coming of spring, for the blossoming. For the harvest.

cathedral sunflower

‘For I know the plans I have for you’, declares the Lord, ‘Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope, and a future.’ Jeremiah 29:11


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Moons and fossils

The moon floats over sunset hill as we walk. Gravel crunches under our feet. Setting sun reflects in the pools. The low lights cast the fossil footprints into sharp relief, hidden among the rock-strewn beach. The cliffs seem to be caressing each other, ripples of stone on stone. Tucked by the shore’s edge, the holy well is in full spate. The ancient tree cradles the stream as it trickles past, frozen in time. At this most sacred season, the water flows again, bringing new life. The stillness rolls over this place, breath of time itself.

monreith, back beach


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Cinnamon and light

Candles welcome the dawn today. Music rings in my mind. Spices mix with scent of sea breeze. Cinnamon rolls for breakfast, warm from the oven.  Lucia is welcomed in with the light. Winter sun plays across the bay, highlighting headlands and crofts. The tide rolls in with a playful splash, before receding into the day. Out for a stroll, cold air nipping at my fingers and toes. A pause to watch the world pass by. A playful dog brings me a stick to throw, splashing through the iced water. Laughter joined, its owner summons it back. Then home to toast myself by the fire, mulled wine in hand. Flames flickering, echoing  the morning’s light. Happy Lucia!

cinnamon

For more information on St Lucia or Lucy, please see my other blog www.faithinthehome.wordpress.com

Santa Lucia song : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2-Q_ObdE-4


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Rain and flood

Wind buffets the car, pushing against me. Rain sweeps in furiously, pelting the windows. Ahead, the stream has over-spilled on to the road. I plough onwards. Great spumes of water shoot up as I drive through. The lights of the lorry in front shine out in the mist, a guiding light. Windscreen wipers compete with the spray and the rain, going at full speed. The radio speaks of weather warnings and flooding. I know, I say. I’m in the middle of it! I turn up the music for company. The rivers are in full spate, muddy brown from the peat. A wild sea bashes the coast. Slowly the miles unwind. Gradually the storm is subdued. A pause from the drumming of the rain on the car roof. A break in the cloud. Almost there. Then peace. Safety. Rest. Shelter from the storm.

The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters. Psalm 29:3


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Mysterious thumps and quiet breaths

Car troubles. A worrying thump. Potholes in Scotland mean new brake calipers in Wales. Doom and gloom rises. Happiness retreats. Yet I am here – safe. Warm. I step outside and breathe. Still, cool air fills my lungs. In the twilight, a solitary sparrow sings a goodnight song. Somehow peace returns. The sunset lights the clouds. In the shadow of the dusk I watch, until the shadows become dark, and the streetlights shine out ever more brightly. I retreat inside. At rest with life. Not quite content, but getting there.

Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? – Matthew 6:26-27