reflecting

This was a precious moment last summer,  that I was recently reminded of when stumbling across this old photo. It was a moment of thinking, by a pond. 

It was a brief moment to stop, thank, anticipate what lay ahead, 

and the sun came to join me. A rich moment.

stillness

Simply enjoying the stillness of a frosty morning.

a moment of grace

I had just had a very difficult conversation. An outrageously hard one. One of those that leaves you angry, upset, dismayed and with hot, sad tears. I was driving to meet a dear friend, took a wrong turn and ended up having to turn into another street and saw where I had turned - into a gracious street. My anger melted a little, and then some more, as I smiled at this simple reminder to choose grace in this moment. 

I felt stopped in my tracks by a reminder of the beauty of grace.

autumn

Bright blue sky, unexpectedly warm sunshine after the rain, chopping vegetables outside, a little girl content for a moment with sorting parsnips and the promise of warming soup. I had the feeling in all my senses that Autumn has come again.

the sculptor and his dreamy studio

In an old italian town we were wandering, and stumbled across this artist in his dreamy studio.

 It was full of his art, made over the years - sculptures, paintings and drawings. We got shown around, and it felt like we were being let in on an undiscovered secret. Like somehow we were eavesdropping in on a not yet known Picasso or someone similar at work. I asked him where he had studied. He said he had learnt to sculpt by watching his father. And there he now was, with a small child, his grandson, showing him all that he knows of chiseling stones into new forms. The master and his small apprentice.

 Then his studio window caught my eye. The sun and tree shadows so beautiful and inspiring in themselves...

Discovery

An autumnal afternoon spending time by a favourite tree. Unusually beautiful.

Wind fallen many years ago, its gnarled and knotted roots rise from the wet ground.

These hands discovering something new in the texture of the old trunk.

uncovering beauty

I recently moved house, and in the depths of my old belongings I found this. It is a page of notes from an Arts conference I went to years ago. It was such a joy to re-read, and I leapt inside a little bit, when I read this sentence,

       "We have the opportunity and potential to reveal

     and uncover and expose God's beauty"

I love that. That beauty isn't always obvious. That is does sometimes need exposing, uncovering, revealing. Sometimes its buried quite deep and hard to find, or even impossible to believe that it might be there at all. I love the fact that we have the opportunity to find and expose that beauty that belongs to God. That he put there for us to discover and marvel at with gratitude. That unobvious but no less beautiful or precious beauty. In fact that usually more exciting beauty... 

life in the woods

Life slowed down as soon as we stepped into the wood. We were overtaken by the green of the trees enveloping us and the constant activity of the creatures surrounding us. The woodpecker responding to the urgent calls of her young, the gentle sound of the cuckoo belying her mischievous act, red squirrels scurrying and swinging high in the branches and even a hedgehog lolloped by seemingly unaware of our presence. This bustle of life was of a different kind and we had time to wait for the tiny white star burst flowers to turn into their delicious elixir.

the kindness of strangers

its so easy to be kind to your friends isn't it... but its so special when you experience that kindness from someone you have never met, and will probably never meet again. This lady has been collecting glass bottles for our wedding. We passed her cafe a while ago, noticed some nice shaped bottles, explained our need for quite a lot of them, and she has been collecting ever since. The other day she gave us three crates full, with this very sweet  note from her, stapled on the side... 

Another kind stranger I want to invite to my wedding.

tiny shoes

just been reminded that when things seem to be rather complicated, love never fails. enjoying how the wearer of these tiny shoes manages to keep things simple and leave a trail of love behind her.

a question and a promise

journeying, hoping, loving, being, celebrating,
laughing, praying, knowing, believing,
dreaming, wanting, releasing, carrying,
hoping, trusting, walking, crying, waiting,

and being asked, 

and saying

 "I will"
keep journeying with you

adornment

A long time ago one of us sent the other a photograph of a quotation which read 'to cultivate a garden is to walk with God'. I had been contemplating our own garden, meagre but never-the-less faithfully producing spring flowers. A sense of reward after the waiting, the cultivating, the slow walk of winter, as I studied the unfolding petals of the milk yellow tulips. Reminded that the process is so important and the flowering so beautiful. Later a friend gave me these flowers from her own garden. As I walked home the electricity box and the dark brick wall seemed so bare. They seemed to cry out that they too wanted to take part in the spring blossoming. Perhaps an unsuitable resting place for the flowers, a small subversive act to place them there but somehow they seemed to fit. Or maybe to adorn something unsuitable with such extravagance is not so strange after all, more like an act of grace.

a space between moments

So much has been happening. Good things. Precious things. But sometimes I crave the time to slow down, stop and savour them, journey with them, let them linger in my soul.

 I treasured this empty sky space moment between the trees.

 A time to just look upwards at the sky and stop for a moment. How easy it is to try and fill space when we do find it. Moments of space are such a gift in themselves, and dont need to be always filled, even if it is to be with something beautiful.

I made a promise to myself to do more gazing upwards to the sky this summer, lying on my back, still, even if its just for a moment, between moments.

morning light

Early mornings are another feature of life at the moment, waking up and waiting for the light to fill the room, watching the changing patterns on the walls, the clear sky days revealing the hidden beauty. These early starts in fact a gift.

the persistence of goodness

Just yesterday it seemed that spring had arrived in London, so I went down to the 'urban Battersea beach' to enjoy a little coffee, sun, birds and a Saturday afternoon moment. I was feeling overwhelmed by all that had been happening around our world in the last week or so. The devastation and destruction in Japan. The immense loss and grief.

For some reason I then got thinking about how nature in these places carries on with it's being, despite the chaos that surrounds it. I am not sure why, but I was thinking about how plants and flowers and trees carry on being, carry on finding a way to grow, oblivious maybe to the grief screaming out around them. They will still find a path to push on through, against all odds, and flower, produce leaves, fruit, whatever they are made to do. Beautiful things will persist in being beautiful.

Then, as if to agree with my ponderings, this little daisy caught my eye amongst the pebbles. I have no idea how it came to be here. It's a beach full of pebbles, wood, glass, and a high tide. How on earth did this little daisy come to be here, and then to survive? I have no idea, but I enjoyed the moment, imagining its persistence at pushing through, at asserting life and being beautiful in the hardest of places. 

good morning miss bird

There is a little lady in our house who would have loved to have stood on the bridge and watched the birds with you. It has become something of a daily ritual to stand at the window and greet them and watch their morning flight. Their movement, their unexpected arrival and departure, their coming and their going, a source of wonderment. We watch without many words, content with the quiet. She is teaching me much about stopping and looking up.

content with silence

urban evening beauty

We were nearing the end of our long journey back from the most beautiful Pembrokeshire coast. It was a Sunday night, when the vehicles and the people begin to meander back into the city, with Monday morning and the week ahead on their minds. We were almost there; crossing the last bridge between Wales and home. And there they were; the huge flock of playful birds over Wandsworth Bridge. We stopped in our tracks. In fact, we pulled right over, on the middle of the bridge, in the evening traffic, hazard lights on, while we watched in amazement at the beauty of the dancing birds. And they were dancing, so playfully. It was a display of such intricate choreography in the evening sky. 

They seemed so full of joy and play and a slight mischief, as they swooned high and low, fast and slow, almost laughing. Like the seriousness and responsibilty of the Monday morning was almost upon them and this was their last moment of pure abandonment. We were captivated. Completely. Then I watched, as people walked past, focussed on what lay ahead, forgetting to look sideways, or up to the sky, and so completely oblivious to the secret spectacular show happening all around them. They just didn't see it. I was amazed at the 'not noticing'. How could this show not stop you in your tracks and demand a moment of undivided attention, and awe to The Creator?

 But that seemed to make the moment more special, like we were somehow looking in on something secret; something sacred.

  

first flower

First flower, marking the rhythm of the seasons, heralding the coming of spring, its name a reminder that winter is not yet flown. The delicate white a contrast to the dark damp earth. A patient garden that didn't forget its promise, even when the blossoming seemed too impossible to believe. This garden in the middle of the city, this small promise hidden away in a central courtyard. A quiet beauty, worthy of a steady gaze.

echoes of love

Every so often, as the day begins, this is what I see at my window. Written in the window dew of a cold room, nearly a year ago, in a playful moment, thinking of a special love. Now it echoes back to me, again and again, when I least expect it, when the light and the dew and the coolness are all falling just right. It makes me smile every time, as it bursts through unannounced. I wonder who will get to notice it, in the years to come, as it continues to make its unexpected appearance.  

Maybe someone who just needs to know that they are loved, will be blessed by this whisper of a love echo, when I have long moved on to finger painting on another window in the dew? That makes me smile.

pots and pans

Pots and Pans

A countryside retreat - in the tiny chapel we sang an English hymn,

words written by George Herbert.   His words an unexpected thread

repeated in a foreign land and a reminder of the gold to be found in

the ordinary things.

Teach me, my God and King,

in all things thee to see,

and what I do in anything

to do it as for thee.

A man that looks on glass,

on it may stay his eye;

or if he pleaseth, through it pass,

and then the heaven espy.

All may of thee partake;

nothing can be so mean,

which with this tincture, "for thy sake,"

will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

makes drudgery divine:

who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,

makes that and the action fine.

This is the famous stone

that turneth all to gold;

for that which God doth touch and own

cannot for less be told

the joy of the possibility of dreaming

I was supposed to be studying, but it was a dreamy kind of an evening. The lighting was beautiful in my room, and I was pondering a lot more than I was studying. It does seem that I am just so much better at dreaming than I am at putting a whole load more new and complicated facts into my head - it seems more fun to go on journeys of creating instead! we talked a bit about dreaming this weekend, and I was struck by what a priviledge it is to dream. To be able to hope. We have permission to dream, as children of the King... thats what we were talking about.... and that we can dream with hope. A slave cannot dream, or if he does dream, there will be no hope in his dreams, yet we can dream and ponder with a very real and deep hope.

I have known times where hope seemed to have been completely stolen, and its an almost impossible place to be.  Dreams cant be. So I am even more grateful now, for the possibility of dreams that have hope. 

wind and willow

Sunday morning, our rooftop quiet after another busy Saturday night in

our neighbourhood; our home still as our little one slept; peace

descended and the brisk winter wind played with the sun kissed willow.

  I felt like I was the only one awake in the city, discovering a

secret, capturing something beautiful that would soon be hidden in the

rush and tear of the day.

cookies, kindness and grace

This week has seemed such a contrast between gentle grace that flows into your life without great announcement and makes you smile deeply as you ponder it again and again, enjoying the moments as they catch you once more, and severe ungrace that rudely slaps you in the face when you are least expecting it and leaves you shaken and speechless.

 So I thought I would capture the grace and kindness moments, that I was reflecting on last night while I was making a tower of cookies! Its a simple story really, but it reminded me that life can be simple and full of exchanges of grace and kindness. I have been given a sofa, that was for sale, but Becca decided to give to me. She said they were happy it was going to someone who would cherish it. I certainly will cherish it... so many sofa momemts to be had. But I had to find a way of getting it from hers to mine, so I asked Jamie. He refused the offered money for the use of his van. He is such a very kind man of integrity and didnt feel he could 'hire out' his van. So I said I would make him a big yummy lasagne, which I did last night. I had so much fun - lashings of cheese and spinach and lentils and tomatoes layered into a feast, imagining him enjoying it! And for Becca and Martha, Sam and Zac I have made towers of cookies, which I put into jars with ribbons. 


Its a simple story, but it has blessed my week. Simply, but beautifully. It felt like little exchanges of  time, kindness and grace, in a week where there maybe wasnt lots of that elsewhere. I treasured those thoughts as I made the cookies.... and remembered a verse from Romans that says "hold tightly to what is good..." It really is ok to cherish the good. And sometimes we have to cling to it.

moments of light

A wintery Sunday afternoon walk, the sunshine casting long shadows, creating images that leave no trace. Something so beautiful that can

only be seen in a moment, perhaps tomorrow the sun is a little higher

in the sky or there is a cloud obscuring the light.   This beauty

lifts my spirits as the January ground lays quiet.

new coats, old buttons

I was walking along in some drizzly london January rain. My hands were warm and snug in my new coat pocket, and inside there, in that cosy place, I was playing with one of the shiny buttons that had already fallen off. It was round and smooth as I turned it over in my fingers, and as I was getting to know it, I got thinking about buttons. How I love to collect them, how each one tells a story of where it has come from, what it was made for, and what it will become a part of. How I love seeing them all together in a heap. Different shapes and sizes and textures. I began to think of fabrics, and cottons and thread, and the piles of old buttons I have, waiting to become something.

 I went home, and dug them out, popped them in a jar, and dressed them up with a stripey ribbon. For some moments the scene really pleased me. It made me think of how I want to restore old things this year with new buttons, ribbons, flowers, fabrics. But also, use old things to recreate new things. Like big old wooden buttons on new coats. How life can be an interwoven tapestry of old with the new, the new with the old. How each one can bring something to the other. Old memories, new dreams, old ways of doing things, new habits. So I want this year to be better at incorporating the two. Redeeming and restoring the old with the new, and the new with the old. 

new beginnings

Starburst

Night's sky

Bright morning sky

New day

New year

Fresh hope of things to come