When I look...

On Monday night I was talking a bit the divine in the ordinary and the spirituality of everyday. It came off the back of listening to Mary by Patty Griffin again (see advent) and loving the image of Mary, imminently after the death of Christ back at home doing what mother's do. And it raises the idea of habitual practice as shelter in the face of crisis and maybe just something about the very role of mother - or woman - that sees the practical enveloping the emotional in times of need(?).

So often it seems to me that as we go about our daily business, we can close God down to the very expected sightings/ touches/ sounds of Him. We use our own frame of reference of what is or isn't spiritual and can't look outside of that or almost don't expect him to act in areas we don't consider worthy. (Watching the film Senna challenges this mindset for me.) We forget that inane can be just as moving and necessary as the profound, that play is just as enriching as work and that for those who have eyes to see God is all over. Especially if we look with intentionality.

Walking out with Blossom this afternoon we were looking at the bare hedgerows and I was doing my best to assuage her disappointment at the lack of blackberries when we came across three vacant little nests.

They were beautifully crafted and looked so comfortable with their mossed outers and fur-lined interiors agains the stiff branches. They were an unexpected gift.

I had been talking earlier today to a friend who is going through an extremely rough time, scratched and beaten by the harsh circumstances around her, she is in desperate need of little pockets of safety and comfort to just make 'doing life' a viable option. The nests made me think how vital it is to construct 'homes' in the midst of daily life. It doesn't matter what we use to make these safe havens - encouraging words, faces, films, art, a duvet, silence, God's presence - but we must have them scattered here and there amongst our weekly routine. Especially in the winter - whether literal or metaphorical.

Then tonight I watched Countryfile on iplayer, in particular the interview with David Hockney about his latest exhibition which I am going to see with Uncle Flower, at the Royal Academy in March.

Asked what he would like people to take from his amazing film in particular he said an understanding that ...

"looking is a more positive act than you think it is, it's something that you decide to do"

Any reminder of this is helpful for me. Whether it's the needs of a friend, places of safety and rest or glimpses of His holiness, may I strive to see.

Advent - over and out

Oops so the glad tidings of the season got the better of me when it came to blogging and so very close to the final hurdle - or big day!

Anyway, after the last slightly somber entry I wanted to end on a more positive note as advent has made way for Christmas, and in it's wake soon will come new year.

Here's the prayer from our Christmas Day service, not new but still spot on when it comes to facing new experiences, challenges and holding new resolutions about just how we live life in the light of the first Christmas.

May the joy of the angels,
The eagerness of the shepherds,
The perseverance of the wise men,
The obedience of Joseph and Mary
And the peace of the Christ child
Be yours this Christmas.

Avent 22 - death

Today I met someone who is grieving. I was reminded how brutally out of nowhere, grief can strike, the most random of happenings, words, faces or places leaving you blind-sided.

It made me think about my own grief, which is still close despite the distance.

I once read of a church in Christchurch, NZ which held a "Blue Christmas" service, recognising how hard Christmas is for many for reasons of grief, loneliness, family breakdown or isolation and so on. I think there would be real power in such a service, and probably healing too.

I remembered too how one of the schools I worked in had a memory tree, a fir tree which pupils placed messages on to those relatives - living or dead - which they wouldn't see at Christmas.

I also accidentally found this poem by Mary Oliver.

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Advent 21 - Keeping Mum

The 9 lessons and carols service tonight left me wondering about Mary and what she was like as a Mum. It is also my Mum's birthday.

We know Mary was an awesome parent - "she was great with child"! (Sorry) But I do wonder if we could have chatted about motherhood over a cuppa if there would be any resonance between our experiences of parenting. Unfortunately I've been rushing up and down motorways and had no time for my thinking to percolate but whilst catching up with one of my favourite blogs - that of Simon Carey Holt, based in Melbourne - I found his musings on this mot highly favoured lady ... coincidentally featuring one of my all time favourite singer songwriters.


I'm hoping he won't mind if I share...
Simon Carey Holt Blog - Songs for Advent 3

Advent 20 - The holly and the ivy

I did part of the flower arranging in church last week. Not something I've ever done before but something it was very nice to have a go at.

There was a big donation of foliage (or "foil-age" as the gardener apparently pronounced it much to the mirth of the church warden) from the near-by Estate house and it was lovely to have fabulous holly and ivy, laurel and yew at our disposal. So evocative of this time of year in nature and in our festive traditions.

And it's funny that as much as I've tried to remember latin names of plants in my garden I never can, except for Ilex, I've never known why that one stuck!

I thought the web would be full of the mythology about Holly and indeed there are plenty of facts and trivia out there. This offering comes from the Trees for Life Campaign

Though holly doubtless was, and still is, brought into the house for its shiny green leaves and berries, which reflect the light and add colour to the dark days of Yule, it has another significance as well. Christian symbolism connected the prickly leaves with Jesus' crown of thorns and the berries with the drops of blood shed for humanity's salvation, as is related, for example, in the Christmas carol, 'The Holly and the Ivy'. Yet even here the reference to these two plants refers to a pre-Christian celebration, where a boy would be dressed in a suit of holly leaves and a girl similarly in ivy, to parade around the village, bringing Nature through the darkest part of the year to re-emerge for another year's fertility.

Holly was also brought into the house variously to protect the home from malevolent faeries or to allow faeries to shelter in the home without friction between them and the human occupants. Whichever of prickly-leaved or smooth-leaved holly was brought into the house first dictated whether the husband or wife respectively were to rule the household for the coming year.

So with that in mind I'm off to raid the gardens smooth leaved holly post haste!

Our arrangements in All saints really just let the wonderful foliage speak for it's self, some white blooms and silver baubles to add a wintery touch. I'm not sure if people may feel it's not festive enough or jolly but I love the feeling of peace it creates - to me at least. My fellow flower arranger did two pedestals either side of the high alter, not somewhere we go much in church life these days. But it was lovely to be up there in what feels a special place - if only through it's lack of familiarity. The arrangements too stood out white their white washed back drop and as I looked from the back of the church I saw palm leaves. It actually made me catch my breath.

So often at Christmas we get wrapped up with the idea of the baby and all the joy that new life brings, not least to see us through the darkness and dormancy of winter time but here in these simple leaves was a reminder that death too is very present. And that this is no ordinary baby.

And upon a Wednesday
His vow will he make

And upon a Friday
His death will he take

And upon the third day
His rising shall be

And the sun and the moon
They shall rise up to see

Advent 19 - Christmas

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

John Betjemin

Nativity 18 - The Nativity

Had a wonderful time last night at The Nativity in Chaddesley Corbett.The village has a tradition of a christmas mystery play going back 40 years and it is just the thing you need to get you in the mood for the big day.

What is always impressive is how it brings together so many of the local community together, young and old, two legs and four! For it does feature a real donkey which is really the icing on the cake of the production that features brilliant scenes, songs, costumes and some very special moments. Not least as people come to share their talents and enthusiasm, regardless of belief, at such a busy time - it is a deep gift.

Some of the text dates back to the 14th century, from the tradition of mystery and morality plays that were often perfumed on village greens and for many years The Nativity was produced every four years in Chaddesley.

This year saw the addition of a poignant moment where a life size the cross was back-lit whilst surrounded by dry ice, as Stainer's God So Loved the World played. Taking the play from it original ending at the slaughtering of the innocents to the near completion of the story.

One of the most thought provoking of scene setters was a recording of an Aramaic chant, a birth announcement such as that which could have been made when Jesus was born. It took you from a village in the Midland's to far away in time and space.

Today is born of a virgin
He who holds the whole of creation in His hand.
He whose essence none can touch
is bound in swaddling clothes.
God who in the beginning
established the heavens lies in a manger.
We worship Thy birth O Christ