Monday the 14th and an early walk to meet the sun.
Holy Holy Holy, Lord God almighty, early in the morning our song shall rise to thee….
All thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea.
Saltburn by the Sea.
Note to morning office: May I rise to the newness of each day.
Change comes as a reaction to a situation, others, emotion, nature or an internal thought.
Most of the time we talk about our reaction to change but the opposite is true; change comes from reaction.
I sometimes think, that putting it this way round, helps me deal better with change.
There is a certain quiet that envelopes us when we stand and become aware of the things that don’t move. I am thinking now of the mountains, trees, dry-stone walls, valleys and rivers.
It instils a sense of security and knowledge that we journey only a short distance.
We look for stability in our lives and remembrance is an important process: anchoring to places, scenery, structure – things that do not move. I recognise the feeling while I stand and gaze; and begin to see what it is I am looking at.
Mid-day office:
Let nothing disturb thee, nothing affright thee;
all things are passing, God never changeth!
Patient endurance attaineth to all things;
who God possesseth in nothing is wanting;
alone God sufficeth.
Most times I avoid difficult situations, confrontations; especially in the people/ emotional areas. It is more often a case of – wait till the dust settles, keep your head down or – wait till someone else does something, then it will sort itself out.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel, its just the getting there (in the darkness) that is the struggle. But perhaps if I learn through my struggles, then there won’t be so many tunnels? Just gritting your teeth to get through the darkness is a good way of coping but in the long run; looking at the process may be better.
378-yard tunnel on the Kendal canal [Hincaster tunnel].
Last week saw me over at Kendal with some friends. The weather was fantastic and I managed a couple of walks. We stayed at a converted barn (very grand) with a disused canal at the bottom of the field. The canal is mostly dried up now so the greenery is really taking over; cowslips and bluebells amongst the bright new green.
Our life is full of questions, it is difficult to start a conversation without a question: how are you? What have you been doing recently? Did you know? Have you heard? Our need to satisfy our questions are now met by the Internet; any question may be asked and an answer will be given. We can ask 
Conversations with God are, in the main somewhat different; based on requests rather than questions. I guess it may have something to do with the fact we don’t expect an answer. We make requests and wait for a result; this is ok of course, we are God’s children.
The Moody Blues – “I’m looking for someone to change my life”.
“Its the more the way you really mean it when you tell me what will be.”
Note to morning office: Try to ask God three questions today; and expect answers.
There is nothing in the Inbox, no letters through the door and the phones are silent;
I am poised, waiting for something to happen. Something has to happen, otherwise what will I do?
The importance of being ready does not outweigh the act of being found waiting.
It is in the act of creativity for oneself, that grows who we are and to become more complete.
I have a large piece of clean paper, pens, colours and glue; materiel and many ways of joining them together. I have words, thoughts, ideas; visions and dreams. I have things so exciting, they scare me and feelings that take my breath away.
The more we let out, that which is within; the less we rely on outward things, to drive who we are.
My thoughts and dreams are no different to yours – Dare to be different…..
It is noticeable recently how things are beginning to green up.
Each one takes its turn; buds and leaves bursting into life.
An orchestra of greenery, conducted by nature itself.
Probably my most favourite book as a child was The Faraway Tree with all its characters and adventures; the tree in itself was a whole community, from the Saucepan man to Dame Washalot and of course old Moonface who provided a safe exit from danger, down the slippery-slip.
Reaching the top of the tree was only the beginning, for there, reaching up beyond the clouds was along ladder. Each day at the top of the ladder a new land was to be found; a land of Dreams, a land of Spells and a land of Tempers. I have been thinking recently about Merry-go-rounds and beginning to wonder if I have been carried away by the Land of Merry-go-rounds; you see, if you do not make it back to the ladder in time, you could indeed be carried away.
The merry-go-round seems to travel so fast, yet once on the merry-go-round, everything outside this space seems be be going twice/ ten times as fast. Time seems slow to those who are in the spin and once off the merry-go-round I seem to have missed so much. There is much more to this story as there are so many merry-go-rounds. Come on old Moonface, what is the secret? how do we jump from one to another and not miss what is happening in between?
The Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton. Illustrations by Dorothy M Wheeler.
Light bursts into my day
I reach for the shades to hide my eyes
impossible to look directly into the light
but it is the light
that enables me to see all things.
.
Looking out of my window, I notice the view never changes; ok, so the trees have grown over the years and we have a few more houses, but essentially it hasn’t changed.
Each morning I look out with expectant eyes and frequently I am not disappointed, for the changes are immense.
Light itself changes colour, mood, depth and clarity, the sense of distance and my perception of environment changes; how I feel inside is a response to this outward view.
Note to morning office: You are the light of the world, may I change in response to You.
The big church in Saltburn are having another art exhibition, the theme is “into the light”. One of the ladies of the parish asked if would submit a photo, I did some last time on creation.
I had many thoughts and most of them based on the fact that it was too difficult for us to look directly at the light; reflected by water, through glass, trees etc - sounded the best route. I went in search of tall buildings, Banks, Churches and found myself in the back streets and alleyways.
We see light from our darkness, from the shadows, I tried to capture the effect of light and how it eats into the vertical darkness and tears into the shadows; the added presence of light on the garbage cans was a bonus.
Note to evening office: Illuminate my shadows.
A long promised walk was finally found; I thought about two hours would be good, but due to ice and a slight detour it lasted more than four. The path was so frozen that I had real difficulty getting up the hill and into the woods, I am glad no-one could see me as I took one step up and slid my whole length back; it was like an old silent movie. Probably due to the weather there were no other brave walkers, just the sound of the swelling river as it hurried over the great sandstone boulders. Movement caught my eye as two small dear darted through the trees, I was amazed that something running so fast made hardly a sound.
It was more than just a walk, I was on a quest, weeks ago I decided on this walk, to find the wishing stone and a part of the woods that I remembered when I was young; this was to form a central part of my book (which is very slow work in progress).
I felt I was well prepared, with camera, binoculars, mobile phone, waterproof jacket and boots; an ice pick and crampons would have been better, I soon found a stout stick that helped to keep me vertical. I think I was more worried about my camera!
The scars and sandstone outcrops are evidence of mining, Glaisdale was abundant in iron ore and in 1865 three blast furnaces were built in this small Esk Valley town. The path is made up of large sandstone blocks leading on, higher and away from the river, the sound of the water becoming deeper in the distance, slowly being taken over by the quiet of the trees.
It was easier to walk on the verges as the stones were like trying to walk on ice cubes; I decided to head up away from the path as I felt the wishing stone was much higher as I recalled. I did find one stone that resembled it but decided this was much smaller than I remembered. Further on still I caught my breath as I saw and remembered the wishing stone; there it was, as big as ever and with that big crack running through the middle, I wanted to run to it.
My quest to find the second special place was not to be, try as I might it remained hidden. Further on still I left the path again and headed towards the the edge of the steep cliff with the river below and trees forming as it were a safety wall that I might not fall off the edge. I had found a different place that was indeed special, a sense of security and peace; I am sure I could have stayed there all day.
Note to morning office: Not all magic is about wizards and spells, its good to have a dream; MAKE A WISH!
Looking forward to a short break – two nights in a Bothy near Edinburgh; then on to Hetton Hall to visit friends at Northumbria Community. Sounds like heaven to me…..
Inside the Chapel at Hetton Hall, Northumbria.
Mums anniversary on Sunday (2-years) and we are only a little closer to doing the recipe book “Grandma’s favourite recipes”. This sort of thing has been done before of course but we will attempt to enfold some of the character and story behind the dish; I know, half the fun will be trying them out to see if they still taste the way they did.
Last week I received an email from yet another cousin (I have around 60 in total), this was a very pleasant surprise as he had found and copied an old photo of my dad and I; it certainly brought a tear to my eye. Cousin Joe remarked how it reminded him of the song by Luther Vandross “Dancing with my father again”.
We tell stories in many ways, writing and speaking, serving and giving. Through pictures and taste, aroma and touch; we convey part of what & who we are to those around us, who begin to know us and love us in return.
How we are restricted when covered with snow; communication grinds to a halt and we retreat to our burrow. Beaten by the white stuff, cold and deep, filling the pantry with food and drink. Clearing our small path to the edge of the road as if that will put everything right. 
I got to use the telephone much more recently, contacting folk who I had not seen in a long time, and better, fixing dates to go and spend time with them.
Here's to the spring of 2010.
Hemmed in by snow has its good points; an opportunity to catch up on little chores and dig out a good Jig-saw. I have not done a jig-saw for a long time. This one is 1,000 piece and of chocolate bars from 1960. A simple strategy of – outside bits first then some major item/ detail, except that this is just full of detail.
Each piece I pick up, I can recognise and should be able to piece it together; I have to focus on say, just 3 chocolate bas at a time other wise I would be all over the place. I thought I knew a lot about jig-saws and learned a lot about life strategies by doing them; but this one was different. I remember one industrial business, when interviewing for staff would ask; what are you like at jig-saws’ a good question!
Anyway – here is the finished article.
One of the outside pieces managed to hide itself till I was down to the last 100 pieces…..
A view from the back door with some of my favourite music – Debussy; Snowflakes are dancing – they really do.
Beggars bridge – Glaisdale North Yorkshire, earlier this year and in better weather.
Extremely slippy this morning, cars were struggling to negotiate the minor roads, the melting snow had frozen to a sheet of glass, but determined drivers spun on; this all reminded me of a youthful pastime.
Just beyond Beggars bridge is the steepest road in England – Limber hill’s gradient is 1-in-3 and back in the 60’s there was a polite notice at the bottom of the hill, “Stop your vehicle and engage first gear”. These were the days before synchromesh gears and foolhardy drivers would charge at the hill, expecting to reach the top. We would sit at the river side and watch the cars approaching, guessing; will he make it or won’t he? Such laughter as the embarrassed driver reversed back down the hill.
There was also much fun to be had beyond Ashley house and the tennis courts, for this is where we would take our bikes. We would push our rickety old two wheelers as far up the bank as we dared and free wheeled all the way to “The Travellers Rest inn” – all this and sliding down the Nab till our jeans were as green as the bracken.
Note to evening office: Main roads are usually clear but we will not reach home until we negotiate the slippery side roads.
Early morning mist is clearing, revealing woodland and home; for those awakening in the houses below it must seem a bleak looking day. The air is crisp and to see so far in the clear light is encouraging, this is a morning walk before the snow we have today.
I don’t often amaze myself but recently a friend recommended a book “The Christmas Mystery” by Jostein Gaarder – I read this book in less than a week, which for me is unheard of. Some of the quotes that will remain with me are :-
“But it is important to be happy about the little you have. However little it is, it's infinitely more than nothing”.
“There are two ways of becoming wise. One is to travel out into the world and see as much as possible of God's creation. The other is to put down roots in one spot and to study everything that happens there in as much detail as you can. The trouble is that it's impossible to do both at the same time”.
“God's kingdom is open to everyone, even people who travel without a ticket”.
Regarding the lovely wild flowers – the angel nodded mysteriously “They are part of the glory of heaven that has strayed down to earth” he explained. “You se there is so much glory in heaven that it can easily spill over”.
This book reveals more than just a Christmas mystery and as it came to the closing chapters, I did not want it to end; I didn’t want to know the answers, I was more than happy with the story itself.
Note to evening office: something revealed is not necessarily earth shattering.
I am surrounded by Christmas cards, address’s, lists of contacts; and there are so many. Already the postman has delivered a good bundle of greetings and wishes of good health this festive season. Each one is a moment in itself, full of memories and longing to be wherever they are. Recapturing times of laughter and tears – deep feelings of belonging to so many places and times, it sets the emotions in a spin. Primarily guilt, I should have spoken to this person sooner – has it really been a year since we wrote to each other.
I believe there is a knowing between such folk, that - if needs must - we would be there for each other; as it is – what is pressing, are other matters and they need to be attended to. However, it is good to escape to the daily visit of the postman and indulge in affectionate memories.
Note to evening office: I thank the Lord that I have the capacity to love to the level that I am – and that is sufficient for the plan He has for me.
I decided to purchase a Brer Rabbit story book as a birthday present for someone special; there's nothing strange about that? This all began when I was talking to a young mother who was separated from her 7-year old son and struggling making ends meet. She wanted to buy him something nice for Christmas but clearly hadn’t the money to spare; the boy had almost everything he wanted, this was not something she could compete with. I tried to hint for her to make something but art & craft were not her thing.
I began to tell her about my Aunt Celia and how we would go down each night to fasten in the chickens, her bedtime stories were famous to many of us children and I’m sure many more after us. She had time for us and made us feel special; after all the Christmas presents are gone and forgotten, its about those who made you feel special.
My Aunt Celia is also my godmother and it is her birthday next week, so the Brer Rabbit book is for her. A book to say thank you for all the bedtime stories, even the night she threw my teddy to me and burst my nose! Perhaps it was Aunt Celia that inspired my story telling.
Note to morning office: Help me make someone feel special today.
Music by Ennio Morricone – Gabriel’s oboe.
Gabriel, second in the rank of archangels, one of seven angels who stand ever-ready to enter the presence of God and be his messenger to mankind. He interpreted for Daniel the vision of the Ram and the He-goat, which foretold the destruction of the Persian empire. According to tradition he announced to Joachim and Anna the impending conception St Mary the virgin and told Zacharias that he would become the father of St John the Baptist. His supreme task was as the angel of the Annunciation when he was sent to tell Mary that she was the woman chosen to bear Jesus. Although not named, Gabriel is also assumed to be the angel who announced the birth of Samson to his mother and the one who brought glad tidings at the birth of the Messiah to the shepherds. According to tradition it was Gabriel who comforted Jesus during his agony in the garden of Gethsemane. He is also revered in Islam because he dictated the Koran to Mahomet.
It is said that it is Gabriel that will sound the horn to announce the end of time. Advent, (coming) a time of expectant waiting and preparation.
Note to morning office: Am I ready?
Inevitably we all get caught up in the rush towards Christmas, there is no escape – (even in a friary).
When charging down a hill on a bike with poor brakes, we would use our feet to stop and get into trouble for scuffing our shoes. Arriving late to a party with wind swept hair, clothing wet and crumpled; makes us feel like turning round and missing it completely.
The event is already prepared for us, it is our presence that is required; not our presents.
A strange dream last night, I saw the Earth in the night sky from my kitchen window. Apart from being in the kitchen I knew I had not left planet Earth and that in fact I was looking at a mirage effect; a reflection of Earth from somewhere out in the solar system. The vision captivated me and I wanted to rush for the camera, though I knew it may last for only a few seconds.
What are dreams all about? Well I am not into analysing that kind of stuff! However, the thought of being able to look at ourselves (given this momentary window) is something to ponder on - at least for today.
Have a great week. – David..
Its the time of year when I wish I had done more preparation. The Christmas card list should be there to pick up, complete with current address and post codes. As it is I will be, once again relying on my poor memory and hoping not to forget anyone.
Efforts to re-organise my diary have been successful, I now use Outlook and keep appointments that before, too often escaped me. However, this did not extend to my home/ personal life and Tuesday caught me out once again; these are my worst nightmares, letting people down, seeming that I don’t care. Back to the drawing board and I am now running a dual calendar in Outlook (what an amazing program) and nothing should be lost; I can even print out a month ahead and drop it into my filo-fax.
Br Cyril makes me smile, he tends to wear multiple layers of vest, shirt, jersey and cardigans; this reminds me of Aunt Mary. She would potter around in more skins than an onion and would say “well, if I gets ta hot I can all’as tak yan off” [Yorkshire dialect]. Its not long ago that there was no such thing as central heating or even electric lights, carrying a candle to bed with a hot water bottle was common. Doing a little Christmas shopping last night I looked at the new LED TV screens; the picture quality is incredible. Only two or three years ago the in thing was Plasma or LCD – 38 years ago, TV’s were powered by glass valves and colour was still a new idea. What next? I hear 3D TV is in the offing.
Early morning at the friary and I thought I had better do a little ironing (we are a little behind in that department). iPod plugged in and the rest of the world slipped into another space.
My good friend Dana wrote recently about tears and I had to say to her this is not a common state for me. Perhaps it was the music – The Priests, Pie Jesu. There is something about Latin, sung and with such emotion; my eyes filled up and I didn’t know why. I am of an age that still remembers the Latin Mass, Benediction and Corpus Christi marches through the town. This emotional water is more than just nostalgia, more than reminiscing; my feelings were that of the communion of saints.
Note to morning office: Communion of saints extends to those still with us; who shall we meet today?
Thank You for Your goodness, Ever Giving God,
for the goodness of this place and work,
for the goodness of one another,
for the goodness of all creation,
and even for our own goodness,
all of which is merely a part of Yours.You volunteer Your Love to us, freely and without limit,
You volunteer to come among us as a human being in Jesus.
You volunteer to be wherever the pain is,
wherever people are poor, rejected, ignorant, and alone.
You volunteer to be on both sides of everything.
And You have taught us how resurrection happens.We do not serve here because we think the Centre is perfect,
but because we know You are perfect.
We do not work here for any material gain,
but for the coming of the Reign of God in all hearts.
We volunteer our lives because You did it first:
You are the Great Outpouring God,
You are the Eternal Yes of Jesus,
You are the Abiding Presence of Spirit in all things.We offer this prayer in thanksgiving
because You are first praying
in us, through us, and with us.Amen
A prayer for volunteers Richard Rhor – seemed right to pray this at the end of a busy day at the project and I am sure we will use it often…
Spending time with the very young is priceless and this one 3-year old was just more than special. Its that questioning time, when everything is why and just as you think all is well; there's another question. The question that really caught me off my guard was something that came while he was doing something else and quite out of the blue “where is grandma” the house went silent for a moment, then “she’s in heaven with Jesus”. The little boy replied “but I want her back” and that was all we heard from him. This lingered long with me, as adults we deal with loss and know what to say and when best to say nothing at all. There really is nothing wrong with saying “I want her back”.
Much later in the day, a stream of questions – “where is heaven, does grandma have a house there, who is Jesus” and “has he always lived there”. My answers were futile, try as I might they lead only to more questions; this young boy was searching me and my knowledge of the above – “do children go to heaven”; help! I felt inadequate and lacking in simple answers, I don’t usually have this difficulty when talking to teens and older folk; I guess they already have some preconceived ideas that I can work with, but this is a child – pure and simple. Jesus words regarding the teaching of children were firm and Matt 18
Note to morning office: may I think before I teach and speak to the child inside.
Quoits is a game I never got round to playing seriously, we used to lark about as kids and made our own pitch now and then; to others this was a very serious game and competition between village teams and individuals was keen. Older cousins and uncles would head out on an evening to a quoits match, this would usually involve a glass of beer or two and therefore attract us as spectators. The photo above is John White playing off against his son Andrew, Andrew turned out to be as good a player as his dad and beating him to the pin on a number of occasions. I am grateful to Ian McDonald of Grosmont and his pictures on Amber Online; these were taken in 1979.
There used to be a very special occasion, generally around this time of year. This was the Quoits handicap (Fr Pat Bluett trophy) a chance for any new comer to steal a prize. I remember my first time at the “Ugthorpe Quoits night”, apart from the players prizes there were the winners of the raffle, domino drive; why do I mention all that? Well first up to sing is the winner of the trophy (while the trophy itself is being filled up behind the bar); then
It was a long trek last week to Kent, another funeral and another mix of feelings.
My travelling companion was a indeed a Kentish maid, born in Bromley and now living in North Yorkshire. The long haul was lightened with my iPod. A while ago I discovered the shuffle mode (Wow)! having Gregorian Chant music followed by Classical then Pink Floyd and The Moody Blues. This did not seem to phase my companion as she sang along with the 60’s – 70’s Pop. I do wonder if we could be fitted with a Pause/ Fast forward/ Rewind button – now the Shuffle would be an interesting option; I can relate to that. Life is more shuffle than anything else but I think I like it that way… ?
Heading south on the A1 just past Grantham, we decided to find a service station for coffee and a rest. I knew I had just passed one and decided a smaller services would be just fine; particularly as I needed to stop soon! In the distance I could see a petrol station on the northbound side and then spotted a tall advertising tower on the opposite side; great, looks like this will do us. I began to slow down and not wanting to miss the slip road I began to indicate and pull off. Here we are I said, this will do…. What a surprise, I had turned off into what I could now see as “The Sexy Store” Perhaps not! I could not get back onto the A1 quick enough; but we did laugh (a lot).
The return journey was without event, lots of music (À la shuffle) such as Blue Guitar by Hayward/ Lodge. A tiring week but not without its smiles.
