A walk in the park - new perspectives

South Park, in Darlington is a favourite place for families on a sunny Saturday afternoon - just like today. I have often walked to and around the park and enjoyed the exercise and the scenery, it is a familiar place.

This afternoon I went to South Park with Robert (my husband) but today it was different because I am temporarily unable to put any weight on my right leg due to a broken bone. This meant that I was not walking but being pushed in a wheelchair, kindly loaned by Barnard Castle Methodist Church. For me, this is temporary, but I have seen a walk in the park from a new perspective and it has been a learning experience.

I learned about the need to trust because I had to trust Robert. In one way this was not difficult or new, I do trust him implicitly and have done so through 38 years of marriage. I trust him but I was still nervous when we went down fairly steep slopes or towards the lake or over bumpy ground. I was very aware that I had no control, I couldn't even put my feet on the ground to slow things down and I am not used to having no control. 

I learned about guilt and the futility of it in this instance. I felt guilty when we went uphill. I have lost a lot of weight recently but even so it was an effort to push me uphill. I wanted to help and thought leaning forward might do it - but it made no difference - so I had to accept that Robert was expending energy and getting a work-out for my benefit and all without complaint. I am grateful.

I was reminded of the sheer fun of being in a park.  I found that I was at eye-level with the children we met and it was fantastic! They were smiling at me, talking to me and laughing with me. What a privilege, I enjoyed it immensely. On the other hand, I was not at eye-level with the adults in the park. Sometimes our eyes met, usually because their children had spoken to me but otherwise I was fairly invisible to them. Today, through the children around me, I was enjoying scooters and playing hide and seek and riding tricycles rather than walking briskly to make sure I did 10,000 or more steps and used up a few hundred calories!

I am not pretending or claiming to have gained great insights into what it is like to be in a wheelchair but the new perspectives on a walk in the park have been a cause for reflection.

I could go on to reflect on trust in God and playing in God's presence but I won't - I will leave for you to do - if you want to.

Lament for Aylan

Lament for Aylan

So small, so still

So beautiful in life

So unbearable in death

Carried by the sea

Carried by our tears

Carried gently in strong arms.

O God

Open the eyes of those with power

To  see  your children in their desperate need;

Open the arms of those in government

To welcome those who come to our shores;

Open the hearts of each one of us -

Move us to sorrow, anger and action

That the salt sea of sorrow

May be turned to soothing waters

And that tears of desperation

May become tears of joy.

O God, help your people.

Aylan Kurdi, aged 3, from Kobani was washed up on a Turkish beach near Bodrum in September 2015. He was just one of thousands fleeing for safety from Syria and other parts of the world.

The local fisherman who discovered his body among others on the beach said, "I came to the sea and I was scared. My heart is broken."

Sing it, shout it, whisper it and live it

I bring you the most joyful news ever announced, and it is for everyone!*

If you have ever played the angel in a nativity play, you will have said those words, or something very  like them. Announcing, not just good news, but the greatest news ever - the birth of Jesus, the birth of the saviour.

It is wonderful to be able to give good news to people. To tell some-one that they have been accepted for a job they really wanted. To tell some-one that their calling has been affirmed. To share the news that a couple are to be married. To share the news that a child has been born.

Yesterday I was watching the trailer for the film, The Theory of Everything" which is being released in the UK in January. It is an account of the life of Stephen Hawking, the well-known theoretical-physicist who wrote the must-have book "A Brief History of Time" which decorated many coffee tables in the 1990s.

Stephen Hawking lives with ALS, a degenerative motor neurone disease. He is now almost completely paralysed.  He was diagnosed with ALS while at university and, in the film there is a brief exchange between the doctor and the young Stephen Hawking. The doctor tells him that he has ALS and what that will mean. Stephen Hawking then says, "The brain, what about the brain?" and the answer is "The brain is not affected. Your thoughts won't change, it's just no-one will know what they are." 

Stephen Hawking is still able to communicate his thoughts with the aid of advanced and expensive technology, because not to communicate his ideas would be unbearable for him and a loss for the world. Important ideas and insights are to be shared - or they die unnoticed.

And the angels said, "I bring you the most joyful news ever announced."

At Christmas we sing of tidings of great joy.

We sing of the baby born in Bethlehem.

We sing of the birth of the saviour.

We sing of good news for all people.

The news is just too good, too important to be kept to ourselves.

It is not enough to know about it, we have to share it.

We have to share it through our words, through our actions, through our very being.

We have to share it with family and friends, with neighbours and colleagues.

We have to share it with those who have never heard it before.

Thomas Herbert O'Driscoll writes these beautiful words in the final verse of his hymn "Sing of a God in majestic divinity" (Singing the Faith 13)

Sing of this God who in glory and mystery

chooses to lie in humanity's womb,

enters the prison and pain of our history,

rises triumphant and opens the tomb.

This news has to be shared.

Will you share the good news this Christmas, and throughout the year?

Will you sing it, shout it, whisper it and live it?

It is too important to let yourself be silenced.

Have a blessed and happy Christmas and share the good news!

This message can be heard here

* Luke 2:10, Living Bible

Speak out!

I've just read another document, a report from an inspirational event, in which people are quoted as saying, "Church Leaders should speak out more."
There is rarely a meeting where this phrase is not used and, as one designated a Church Leader I need to hear it and I do.

My immediate response is to think of the many times that I have spoken out, as have others, about a variety of issues. Sometimes this has been reported in the media. Sometimes I have blogged. Sometimes I have spoken at public meetings. Most often I have preached - I hope prophetically where necessary and appropriate. The same is true of other church leaders. Some are reported more often by the media - that is the way of things - but we do speak out.

However, my immediate response could be described as (and possibly is) too defensive.

The challenge is there.
"Church leaders should speak out more."
Speak out about injustice.
    Speak out about discrimination.
        Speak out about abusive behaviour.
            Speak out about war and peace.
                Speak out about love.
 
Speak out about God.

So I will continue to try to speak out more.

I will continue to speak out about all the issues above and others.
I will continue to speak out about them whether they are issues in the wider community or issues in the church. For, make no mistake, there are issues of injustice, discrimination, abuse, war and peace within the church as well as in wider society. The church needs to hear about God too. All of us need to be reminded of our calling as disciples.

All of us need to speak out more.

I will continue to speak out - will you?

"A voice crying in the wilderness

Prepare the way of the Lord"

Today, remembrance

Today, remembrance.

Remembering grandfather, grandmother who lived through the distant news of desolate trenches and no-mans-land. The sepia image of loved ones going over the top and into living or dying hell.
Remembering loved ones who have served in our cleaner hells of war, no less obscene for the errant accuracy of deadly missile seen by satellite.
Remembering being there.
Remembering the expectation of going again.
Remembering schools, hospitals and safe places blown into oblivion.
Remembering the many for whom the memories are still forming in constant fear.
Remembering lives shaped by distrust, pain and loss.

Today remembrance as the blood red field of poppies speaks to our mortality and loss.

Today remembrance.
Bread boken and wine shared in remembrance of one who remembers with us.
Remembering indestructible, universal love.
Remembering the promise and the hope.
Remembering fullness of life.
Remembering.

Just a pack of tissues

I don't know what made me do it.
I was on the train when she walked quietly past me and put a pack of tissues on the table. A pack of tissues with a note. The note said she was a single mother without work who was struggling to pay the rent and buy food for her small daughter. A plain statement of facts. Facts followed by the request to buy the pack of tissues.
Of course, they might not have been facts. I had no evidence, no proof of her circumstances.
She was just a quiet, nonthreatening presence on the train.
Handing out packs of tissues for sale.
Price left to my discretion.
A few minutes later she passed by again. Still no words just a questioning glance as she picked up the note.
I handed over the money and she gave me the tissues, speaking the only words in the transaction, "thank you".

I have wondered since then.
Why did I buy those tissues?
I had my usual stock of balsam tissues in my bag.
I did not know her.
I could not tell if her story was true.
So why, on this occasion, did I hand over the money.
Was it her quietness and gentle approach?
Was it because of the child (real or imaginary)?
Was it because the product was useful?
Was it because she was a woman?

I don't know.

All I know was in that moment, I felt it was the right response, the only response to make.
A drop in the ocean of human need.
No great altruistic act.
The simple purchase of a pack of tissues.

But she stays in my thoughts and I pray for her and for her child.

Poppies?

Poppies?

You are not transient.

You do not droop and fall.

Immutable

You stand tall and proud.

Sanguine

blood red,

redolent of beauty

bleeding from the tower -

yet your pooling does not soak into the earth.

For you there is no muddy bed.

No death for you,

No sharing in their lot.

They are gone.

They have fallen.

Their blood has fed the earth.

Dust to dust

    mutable

        contingent

             mortal

They have perished.

A travesty perhaps.

But rather,

in your unchanging

blood-red

sanguine

beauty -

You are the memory.

We will remember them.

Poppies.