Signs of spring today: snowdrops, crocuses (or croci), glimpses of the sun, birds a-singing, an oyster-catcher returned from hiding away……. and most definitive of all? Motor cyclists en force on the roads of Argyll.
I am quite sure that the Archbishop is surpised at all the reactions to his comments on UK Law and Sharia Law. But I wonder if other women in this country also feel demeaned by his suggestions?
A friend issued a challenge today, to the effect that I should shut up talking and get on with writing. But the writing was specified…….. it was to be something about my own journey of faith. Funnily enough, I had already been considering such a venture, but more in response to a Creative Writing Assignment. I am wary of coming across as trite or insincere or overly sincere and deeply pious. So the idea is having to simmer for a while. A bit like my weight, which has been stuck at the same for the last three weeks. (Well…..at least it is not going up, not even after buckwheat pancakes.)
None of this is so far from my struggles with Lent this year. It is partly to do with achieving a balance between accepting what life throws at us or throwing it right back. In other words, being aware of what we can or cannot achieve. Sometimes I have difficulty accepting that rest is essential; in my youth I believed that whatever we wanted to do we could do, just by trying harder and harder. Growing in wisdom means accepting that everyone grows old, everyone gets sick sometimes and in the end we all die. And that is perfectly natural and right. The season of Lent gives an opportunity to be still and accept the gracious gift of God’s love.
(I almost want to say to anyone who may be reading this – How am I doing? Instead I shall say I hope you are finding these weeks between the end of winter and the beginning of spring useful.)
It is difficult to summon up enthusiasm for Lent this year. This is the time of year when Christians are encouraged to find ways to help prepare themselves for the events of Holy Week – the death and rising of Christ. In the past I have got all enthusiastic and tried to give up something tangible: one year it was coffee; (Oh the caffeine withdrawal symptoms!) another it was chocolate (pretty standard.) One year I announced to my congregation that I was giving up guilt. Of course that didn’t work at all. I was guilty, they were confused or astounded.
So perhaps the best I can manage this year is to be consciously attentive to the presence of God in ordinary, everyday things. And when I think about it, that will do just fine.
All right – I know I am on a long-term healthy eating plan (“diet” but say it softly) – but Him Behind the Wheel has coeliac disease, which means a gluten free diet is mandatory. And we are busy hunting the net for gluten-free recipes for pancakes. The concession to the “diet” is to have fresh fruit filling.
Happy pancake day.
My map shapes behind me
to identify where I’ve been.
Now and again I stop,
gather powers and feelings in my inner space,
hold them focused in my being,
to move,
re-shape,
come to birth,
just as they shall be,
strong or puny.
And I journey on.
Slimming Club was cancelled last night because of the severe weather warning. Now, this is either a chance to be extra conscientious and lose an extra pound or two – or the opportunity to kid myself I am doing well and eat that extra yogurt. You see I do not go on the scales in between classes, so have to rely on the waistband test instead.
We are going to visit friends today so Misty has had a bath. She was smelling rather farmyard before it, but is now definitely a Johnson’s baby. You see the wife has been wanting a small dog for a few years and the only time they saw Misty was when the latter was a puppy of a few weeks old. There is quite a difference between cute puppy and rumbustious (though still cute) two year old cairn terrier.
It will be interesting to see whether a dog appears on the horizon.
Watched the DVD of Hairspray last night. In fact I was beguiled, bewitched, stirred with memories (yes of iron-firm hair but also of the civil rights movement in the 60s. And I wanted to dance and sing-a-long.
Just as well my offspring bought me the karaoke, do songs with animated lyrics extras!
The other thing I did, was to finish my library copy of Libby Purves’s Passing Go. Interestingly, it explores issues of justice and relationships, only in the 21st century. Altogether a day with much to think about.
McDonald’s awarding A-levels? I can feel a rant coming on. The education boffins have gone crazy. They can’t keep one system in place for more than ten years at a time without fiddling with it, and their habit of turning practical/theory into degrees has done far more harm than good. So good in fact, that we have plenty of nurses pretending to be doctors, but nobody prepared to wipe a patient’s bottom or clear up vomit. On the job experience should be recognised and awarded for what it is – after all, a plumber can earn nearly as much as a GP – the main difference being that the plumber works three times as many hours.
Education is about opening the mind, not just about getting certificates and bits of paper. And real education means knowing that constant re-organisations and re-structuring is the result of too many people with too little to do.
Oh dear! I suspect I am beginning to sound like my father.
