Yesterday I went with Joanna to Booker. One of the boys had asked me to get some sweets for him to divvy up for Christmas presents. When we got to the til I did notice 'the first Noel' was drifting around in the air. Joanna commented on the fact that they were playing Christmas music 'for a change'. I have to say I've not noted that there is ever any music on in Booker.
This mng I looked on the BBC website and see there is a 'do you spend more when there is Christmas music playing in the shops' item. There wasn't anywhere where I could respond - I feel so strongly about music that I must put it here, where hardly anyone will see it in any case :
I think music is a very important thing. When shopping in Guildford 3 or 4 years ago there was some dreadful 'noise' (passing for music) which evidently the girl behind the till was controlling. While I was waiting at the till (and becoming more and more agitated at the hellish sound and its volume) I was sorely tempted to leave the shop and not bother with buying the stationary items I wanted for Victoria. I was so tried I mentioned it to whoever was with me - soon after that the girl behind the counter extended her hand and turned it off or down - can't remember which. Christmas music is, at least, tuneful. If the shops played tuneful music year-round they might find that more of the spending public would stay in the shop for longer and be more of a frame of mind when they THINK and make rational buying choices. Then again, maybe they've done the research on this and revoltingly immoral lyrics accompanied by heavily synthesised sounds DOES sell more stuff - who knows. I only know that there are shops (like Claires) which, when I'm in them I'm thinking about getting out as soon as possible - and sometimes that means I can't hang around long enough to buy anything, and that can't be good for business. It's easier with the internet!
Research in Moseley (liverpool area) indicates that the largest fall in church attendance is amongst Anglicans. Baptists and URC are next. An increase in Charismatics and Pentecostal church attendance (in that area) is also revealed. An overall fall in any church affiliation is evident. Then again, why pick Moseley and who do you think funded the research?
Jesus is King - if he washes His hands of Britian for a while, who would be surprised. This however is the same God who, for the sake of 'righteous' Lot (willing to toss his daughters out into the street to appease the sex-crazed masses!!!) He was prepared to spare even Sodom. how much more like Sodom must it become here? Lets pray that the 'righteous' in our nation might be shaken up and take God seriously 24/7 and start to live consistently with what we say we believe. Lets become, once again, 'people of the book' and people of earnest, heart-felt, tear-stained prayer - and as we do that we can be confident that God will be active in showing, once again, His power.
Christmas blessings on all one-or-two of you who read this!!
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
mothers
Oscar Wilde suggested that it was inevitable that daughters become like their mothers. I was thinking today - as I was coming back from taking Samuel to work for the second time (he'd been taken by Linda, our lodger, first but hadn't got his keys. He phoned, we searched, I drove to collect him. After 5 or 10 mins he found the keys and I set off again, to take him to work....) that I've learnt a lot of very handy sayings from my mum. These handy sayings, to some extent, have shaped me.
As Samuel was (again!) apologising I declared 'such is life'. My old self would have been resentful at having been 'dragged' out of a cosy bedroom leaving a freshly-brewed cup of rooibosch to go cold (I reheated it later but somehow it went cold again before I drank it...) but here I was being thankful for the opportunity to be of use to dear Samuel. It was about 4 degrees below 0 out side. My hands were so cold (I forgot my gloves) that I was caused to remember my army days - we actually had to go out on parade on mornings like this. There was a girl from Manchester who was in the band a year or so before me who had actually gone out on parade with her pyjamas under her uniform. As she was marching along (we were told) one of her pyjama trouser legs gradually slid down in full view of everyone - including inspecting officers! We six new-recruits in April 1979 agreed that an investment in Damart thermal underwear was a much safer way of staying warm on parade!
'Worse things happen at sea' (though I always wondered on what basis my mother - who I believe never WENT to sea - could state that!) and 'There but for the grace of God go I' - normally trotted out when someone was discovered to have 'disgraced' themselves in some way or other. I have often looked with great sadness at 'bag ladies' in London and thought how easily I could have ended up like that - only the Lord knows.
Of course my most frequent quote of my mother is 'there's nowt so queer as folk' - and that one has spread to some of my children too! The longer I live, the more I find that to be true (it ought to have been in the book of proverbs somewhere!!!).
If one has a bad mother must one inevitably, inescapably, be bad oneself? Praise God that ones own badness need not necessarily be passed on to ones daughters! I'm praising God that my daughters are fewer than my sons too!
And as I grow in the Lord I praise God for His Grace making me not merely resigned to how things are (kind of 'grinning and bearing it' like a stoic) but actually thankful for the unexpected and unpleasant features of life - though I'm not sure I'll ever embrace the 'queerness' of 'folk' quite like Jesus did - perhaps if I live to be 100.......
Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices,
Who wonderous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices,
Who from our mothers arms, has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.
Thanks Mum.
As Samuel was (again!) apologising I declared 'such is life'. My old self would have been resentful at having been 'dragged' out of a cosy bedroom leaving a freshly-brewed cup of rooibosch to go cold (I reheated it later but somehow it went cold again before I drank it...) but here I was being thankful for the opportunity to be of use to dear Samuel. It was about 4 degrees below 0 out side. My hands were so cold (I forgot my gloves) that I was caused to remember my army days - we actually had to go out on parade on mornings like this. There was a girl from Manchester who was in the band a year or so before me who had actually gone out on parade with her pyjamas under her uniform. As she was marching along (we were told) one of her pyjama trouser legs gradually slid down in full view of everyone - including inspecting officers! We six new-recruits in April 1979 agreed that an investment in Damart thermal underwear was a much safer way of staying warm on parade!
'Worse things happen at sea' (though I always wondered on what basis my mother - who I believe never WENT to sea - could state that!) and 'There but for the grace of God go I' - normally trotted out when someone was discovered to have 'disgraced' themselves in some way or other. I have often looked with great sadness at 'bag ladies' in London and thought how easily I could have ended up like that - only the Lord knows.
Of course my most frequent quote of my mother is 'there's nowt so queer as folk' - and that one has spread to some of my children too! The longer I live, the more I find that to be true (it ought to have been in the book of proverbs somewhere!!!).
If one has a bad mother must one inevitably, inescapably, be bad oneself? Praise God that ones own badness need not necessarily be passed on to ones daughters! I'm praising God that my daughters are fewer than my sons too!
And as I grow in the Lord I praise God for His Grace making me not merely resigned to how things are (kind of 'grinning and bearing it' like a stoic) but actually thankful for the unexpected and unpleasant features of life - though I'm not sure I'll ever embrace the 'queerness' of 'folk' quite like Jesus did - perhaps if I live to be 100.......
Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices,
Who wonderous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices,
Who from our mothers arms, has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.
Thanks Mum.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
drafts
I thought I might as well publish those drafts - funny to read them and see how much things change - and how much they stay the same! If I can ever figure how to get all this blog stuff printed off it might form entertaining winter reading for someone some years hence....
Unpublished from 4 years ago...
I wonder if there is something in the air that our youngn's breathe? It wasn't there when I was a child (and now I am sounding like a grandmother). No-one ever told me that the Lord requires that we should rejoice always (and rejoicing is, necessarily going to result in thankfulness isn't it?) nor did anyone ever point out to me (not that I recall) that the Israelites in the wilderness demonstrated their disobedience, faithlessness, lily-liveredness (or whatever you want to call it) by COMPLAINING. However, my mother taught me to say 'please' and 'thankyou' and I did - along with most of my peers. Those who didn't were from a different culture (asian), we brits were habitually thankful. I thought that if I taught my children, as my mother taught me, that it was common decency to be generous with 'please' and 'thankyou', it would lead to them at least habitually using those words, even if they didn't 'come from the heart' - but it seems that the culture of death is a necessarily unthankful one and one, at least, of my children sees no inconsistency between not being an 'un-believer' and complaining bitterly about the character of his lunch.... He MAY grow out of it, but I don't remember any of my brothers (neither of whom is saved) ever indulging in such expressions of ingratitude - and if they had and it had been pointed out I think they would have been quick to pack it in. It's an interesting point because I wonder to what extent the culture we live in (even if our children don't have much access to it via TV, school, unsavoury non-family peers etc) actually gets into us.
It has application for all stages of life. The one which I fight against is 'time for myself'. You can bet my MOTHER never considered THAT one!!! Men in the workplace, no doubt, find integrity more difficult now than they would have done 30 years ago where, somehow, it was dis-agreeable to be crooked or a bully. If the product of the Christian home-ed movement are so influenced by the prevailing culture that they are dis-abled from being true and effective 'arrows' against the enemy, what hope is there??!!
Praise the Lord that He knows what He's doing and (as with the complaing Israelites) He will bring about His Glory - I just can't see how it can be done right now.....
It has application for all stages of life. The one which I fight against is 'time for myself'. You can bet my MOTHER never considered THAT one!!! Men in the workplace, no doubt, find integrity more difficult now than they would have done 30 years ago where, somehow, it was dis-agreeable to be crooked or a bully. If the product of the Christian home-ed movement are so influenced by the prevailing culture that they are dis-abled from being true and effective 'arrows' against the enemy, what hope is there??!!
Praise the Lord that He knows what He's doing and (as with the complaing Israelites) He will bring about His Glory - I just can't see how it can be done right now.....
unpublished draft from 2010
The dust is settling, I didnt' get migraine after the wedding (of Lucy and Ben) (Praise the Lord), though I've had some stressful moments getting little things all out of proportion. Yesterday was a very restorative day, however, it was just the four youngest and me at home all day. I got my hanging baskets done, generally sorted out in my patio garden, cut out the glass for the lighthouse window and generally enjoyed the sweltering hot weather - a promise of summer to come. On the other hand, being England, it may BE the summer.....
the flowers which Becky did for the wedding are adorning the lounge - it's lovely to be able to ponder them at leisure.
The wedding led to meeting some delightful new friends and (via them) the promise of re-connecting with positively ANCIENT ones - with the hope that we can do them some good - not least by praying for them in an in informed way.
and what have I been learning? only that I STILL (after all these years....) don't trust my Heavenly Father as I ought - but, little by little, I think I am beginning to make progress.......
old draft rediscovered
The conference behind me I am now thinking of turning my thoughts towards real plans for the proposed 8-week Scotland trip.
Topics for thought-provoking conversations over the past week while we have had the McLachlan family camping out in the (cold) cabin included further delving into the often-returned to (for me) subject of self-deception. I know how a non-believer can decieve himself (and BE decieved) but (and this connects with Ecclesiastes 5) how can believer decieve himself and when he HAS how can there be rescue for him. The very fact that he is decieved means you can't even TELL him he's in the wrong. The very fact that *I* might be decieved means you can't even tell ME I'm wrong - that's scary. In fact, it seems that the only way you can be corrected is if you are not convinced you are right. there are quite a few people who file into our average evangelical church each sunday morning - I've often wished I could stand at the door and, while shaking their hand, ask each person, as they enter, 'and why have YOU come here this morning'. It's not that I think that my motives for coming there are pure - even most of the time. It's just that if God is REAL then surely He must want REAL worship (as well as real lives, but that's a different issue..) and we must consider whether what we are bringing to God IS real worship if we're there for such reasons as (merely)"this is my local evangelical church", "I expect to hear a 'good' sermon", "I'm an evangelical", "I've been doing this for 50 years". Of course what an individual might SAY need not be their true motivation for coming to the same building as I attend on a Sunday morning - though it might...
Now how about this : a man might go to a church because he's always done it and likes listening to good sermons, giving his lungs an airing, and the rest of the week might not be thinking about glorifying God from dawn to dusk in the way he works, relates (or not) and speaks. This I can understand.
A new potential for self-deception which I could never have imagined is a MINISTER preaching one of these 'good sermons', in a 'good church' each week and not only NOT thinking about glorifying God from dawn to dusk in the way he works, relates (or not) and speaks BUT is engaging in activities which are expressly or implicitly shown, in Scripture, to be SIN!!! And it has happened (and, for all I know, may still be happening).
If we have a sovereign God (and we do) then all this mess is under His control and will bring praise to His Name and will be used to extend His kingdom and however things appear on the outside they be better or worse than that in reality but if it is a mess it is 'God's mess' (thanks Ali Mclachlan for that insight).
Pressing on to implement a walk which is by FAITH and not by sight and seeking to bring Glory to God in all areas of my life which I am 'in control' over, I shall try and be less superficial in my assessment of people and situations I encounter (after all, it might be BETTER than it seems!!!!) I'll also try and have my ears open to those wise people who might be able to help me to get more on track.
Topics for thought-provoking conversations over the past week while we have had the McLachlan family camping out in the (cold) cabin included further delving into the often-returned to (for me) subject of self-deception. I know how a non-believer can decieve himself (and BE decieved) but (and this connects with Ecclesiastes 5) how can believer decieve himself and when he HAS how can there be rescue for him. The very fact that he is decieved means you can't even TELL him he's in the wrong. The very fact that *I* might be decieved means you can't even tell ME I'm wrong - that's scary. In fact, it seems that the only way you can be corrected is if you are not convinced you are right. there are quite a few people who file into our average evangelical church each sunday morning - I've often wished I could stand at the door and, while shaking their hand, ask each person, as they enter, 'and why have YOU come here this morning'. It's not that I think that my motives for coming there are pure - even most of the time. It's just that if God is REAL then surely He must want REAL worship (as well as real lives, but that's a different issue..) and we must consider whether what we are bringing to God IS real worship if we're there for such reasons as (merely)"this is my local evangelical church", "I expect to hear a 'good' sermon", "I'm an evangelical", "I've been doing this for 50 years". Of course what an individual might SAY need not be their true motivation for coming to the same building as I attend on a Sunday morning - though it might...
Now how about this : a man might go to a church because he's always done it and likes listening to good sermons, giving his lungs an airing, and the rest of the week might not be thinking about glorifying God from dawn to dusk in the way he works, relates (or not) and speaks. This I can understand.
A new potential for self-deception which I could never have imagined is a MINISTER preaching one of these 'good sermons', in a 'good church' each week and not only NOT thinking about glorifying God from dawn to dusk in the way he works, relates (or not) and speaks BUT is engaging in activities which are expressly or implicitly shown, in Scripture, to be SIN!!! And it has happened (and, for all I know, may still be happening).
If we have a sovereign God (and we do) then all this mess is under His control and will bring praise to His Name and will be used to extend His kingdom and however things appear on the outside they be better or worse than that in reality but if it is a mess it is 'God's mess' (thanks Ali Mclachlan for that insight).
Pressing on to implement a walk which is by FAITH and not by sight and seeking to bring Glory to God in all areas of my life which I am 'in control' over, I shall try and be less superficial in my assessment of people and situations I encounter (after all, it might be BETTER than it seems!!!!) I'll also try and have my ears open to those wise people who might be able to help me to get more on track.
Riots and Presbyterianism
Yesterday, with short notice, I set off with a dear visiting family, to a Presbyterian conference in London. We were going to drive in their car (then found they don't comply with the low-emissions) then were going to go in our minibus - but parking was likely to be a problem even should we find a slot somewhere.... So we went on the train. The family railcard was more expensive than the group-saver (on which each of the 5 children over 5 went at £1 each!!) and I acted as 'tour guide' - and ticket-manager. We arrived late - though certainly sooner than had we driven (and tried to park!).
The talks were encouraging and reminded me of the kinds of things I used to think most important about church - singing solid (theologically, grammatically and musically!) things (from books!!), including Psalms, and listening to solid and 'lively' sermons.
It was delightful to meet lots of 'old' friends (one I'd not seen for 15 years at least!) and some new ones. it was cheering to hear of people (of all ages) being saved and happily signing up with 'sensible' 'no-frills' churches. During the final talk (by Ian Hamilton) one became aware of the police helicopter circling around overhead and then loud, angry voices chanting and shouting - then police sirens. The speaker went on, unperturbed (!!) and I closed my eyes and spoke to my Father on behalf of my dear brother who is in the Metropolitan Police and might have been out there. This morning I typed in 'October 20 Oxford Street' and found a 3 minute you-tube video which revealed what was going on outside the doors. Some anarchists, it seems, had taken exception to the 'tax avoidance' measures of certain of the stores and were being thwarted in their attempt to gain entry to the premises by Police officers. Why anarchists (who are against authority and ought, it seems, to be cheering on those who are not willing to 'roll over and play dead' when the tax-man comes along cap-in-hand) should be at all perturbed by these companies is beyond me. What interest the average anarchist has in how much (and from what source) money rolls into the tax coffers (unless it is because the average anarchist, being too busy rampaging around the streets to do an honest day's work and therefore dependant on the tax revenues from such companies, as re-distributed by the welfare state, needs the money for his train fare) I also don't understand.
However, this morning's sermon was given by a Syrian Christian who works in London. He grew up in a Christian family and went away to study in Beirut in the '80's. He said that whatever you see on the TV about war and riot, 60 seconds of really being there makes it far more 'real' than many hours of passive observance through the screen. That though resonated with me. To know that I was actually with 20 yards of all those angry, shouting men fighting with Police and heedless of 'innocent' bystanders, is sobering and not a thing I'd care to repeat. I am thankful that a) my brother wasn't out there! and b) the rabble had moved elsewhere before we had to make our way back out of the building and down the block to the tube station.
The talks were encouraging and reminded me of the kinds of things I used to think most important about church - singing solid (theologically, grammatically and musically!) things (from books!!), including Psalms, and listening to solid and 'lively' sermons.
It was delightful to meet lots of 'old' friends (one I'd not seen for 15 years at least!) and some new ones. it was cheering to hear of people (of all ages) being saved and happily signing up with 'sensible' 'no-frills' churches. During the final talk (by Ian Hamilton) one became aware of the police helicopter circling around overhead and then loud, angry voices chanting and shouting - then police sirens. The speaker went on, unperturbed (!!) and I closed my eyes and spoke to my Father on behalf of my dear brother who is in the Metropolitan Police and might have been out there. This morning I typed in 'October 20 Oxford Street' and found a 3 minute you-tube video which revealed what was going on outside the doors. Some anarchists, it seems, had taken exception to the 'tax avoidance' measures of certain of the stores and were being thwarted in their attempt to gain entry to the premises by Police officers. Why anarchists (who are against authority and ought, it seems, to be cheering on those who are not willing to 'roll over and play dead' when the tax-man comes along cap-in-hand) should be at all perturbed by these companies is beyond me. What interest the average anarchist has in how much (and from what source) money rolls into the tax coffers (unless it is because the average anarchist, being too busy rampaging around the streets to do an honest day's work and therefore dependant on the tax revenues from such companies, as re-distributed by the welfare state, needs the money for his train fare) I also don't understand.
However, this morning's sermon was given by a Syrian Christian who works in London. He grew up in a Christian family and went away to study in Beirut in the '80's. He said that whatever you see on the TV about war and riot, 60 seconds of really being there makes it far more 'real' than many hours of passive observance through the screen. That though resonated with me. To know that I was actually with 20 yards of all those angry, shouting men fighting with Police and heedless of 'innocent' bystanders, is sobering and not a thing I'd care to repeat. I am thankful that a) my brother wasn't out there! and b) the rabble had moved elsewhere before we had to make our way back out of the building and down the block to the tube station.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
Carousel
Last night we watched, on the recommendation of some sweet girls who stayed with us while waiting for the rest of their choir to arrive from the US, the above film. The girlst went on to do a week at St Paul's Cathedral and a week at Oxford Cathedral (and that was the first I heard that Oxford had a cathedral).
It didn't get off to a very promising start but, with a bit of judicious fast-forwarding of the vainly repetitious and vacuous singing, we were optimistic that it would have, at heart a solid message.
It did. One of the quotes which sticks in my mind is 'if I had been more intelligent, I wouldn't have had 9 children'. The scene which finally convinced me it was not a good film was when the simpering Mr Snow (representative of the 'nice guy', whom you can't trust) happened across his intended amongst the trees. She was naive enough to be duped, by the 'bad guy' (whom you can't trust either but at least you'll have fun...), into a close-encounter with this worm. And what was the response of her 'knight in shining armour'? He told her where to get off, he didn't want anything to do with a 'the kind of girl who lets herself be carried out of the forest by another man... '. I almost gasped out loud at this disreputable attitude.
While I was washing up this mng, it occurred to me that this was very much the attitude demonstrated by our first father. So (the message goes), you might as well throw in your lot with Mr Nasty, at least he's got a spine (of sorts). Ultimately the message of this (thoroughly 'modern' though dating back to the 1950's or 60's) film is 'you make your own happiness'. The song 'you'll never walk alone' (remember that echoing round football-terraces?) typifies the only comfort offered to those in this generation who live and die without Christ. When I was younger, I have to say, I never found the idea that 'someone' was 'with' you or 'loved' you (where it remained ethereal and you were still stuck up to the ears in the mire, and weeping in the darkness) somewhat hollow.
As an exposure of the emptiness of individuals, and a culture, without Christ, where 'romance' is the highest goal, it was a useful experience. Unsure whether to keep it for future 'educational' viewings, or just to chuck it out, I'll go on pondering the matter.
The costumes were spectacular - shame we don't wear dresses like that any more (though none of them would have fitted me even if 'we' did!). The singing was tedious though tuneful - the lyrics clever in parts but nauseating and repetitive. It is startling to think that the lyrics were composed and sung by people who had much more familiarity with hymn-singing than most of the modern viewers of this film. That the minds and voices of people trained in singing God's praises should end up presenting such dross, is cautionary. The morals were abonimably low, the 'church' and 'solid family' were ridiculed and one couldn't help wondering whether 'Bill' - had he ever been born - might still have gained his father's approval had he found that what really made him 'happy' was a career as a serial murderer - but we'll never know that.
Back then, there was a prevailing constraint on what men did when they happened across sweet girls on a dark night, in a forest. Because of the relentless pursuit of 'whatever makes me happy' and the abandonment of the practical considerations of the Day of Judgement, we live in a very different world - and Holywood has a lot to answer for turning the culture onto this particular road.
All power to the Christian film-making industry in the coming years - it's about time the Church attempted to recover some of the wide tracts of lost ground.
It didn't get off to a very promising start but, with a bit of judicious fast-forwarding of the vainly repetitious and vacuous singing, we were optimistic that it would have, at heart a solid message.
It did. One of the quotes which sticks in my mind is 'if I had been more intelligent, I wouldn't have had 9 children'. The scene which finally convinced me it was not a good film was when the simpering Mr Snow (representative of the 'nice guy', whom you can't trust) happened across his intended amongst the trees. She was naive enough to be duped, by the 'bad guy' (whom you can't trust either but at least you'll have fun...), into a close-encounter with this worm. And what was the response of her 'knight in shining armour'? He told her where to get off, he didn't want anything to do with a 'the kind of girl who lets herself be carried out of the forest by another man... '. I almost gasped out loud at this disreputable attitude.
While I was washing up this mng, it occurred to me that this was very much the attitude demonstrated by our first father. So (the message goes), you might as well throw in your lot with Mr Nasty, at least he's got a spine (of sorts). Ultimately the message of this (thoroughly 'modern' though dating back to the 1950's or 60's) film is 'you make your own happiness'. The song 'you'll never walk alone' (remember that echoing round football-terraces?) typifies the only comfort offered to those in this generation who live and die without Christ. When I was younger, I have to say, I never found the idea that 'someone' was 'with' you or 'loved' you (where it remained ethereal and you were still stuck up to the ears in the mire, and weeping in the darkness) somewhat hollow.
As an exposure of the emptiness of individuals, and a culture, without Christ, where 'romance' is the highest goal, it was a useful experience. Unsure whether to keep it for future 'educational' viewings, or just to chuck it out, I'll go on pondering the matter.
The costumes were spectacular - shame we don't wear dresses like that any more (though none of them would have fitted me even if 'we' did!). The singing was tedious though tuneful - the lyrics clever in parts but nauseating and repetitive. It is startling to think that the lyrics were composed and sung by people who had much more familiarity with hymn-singing than most of the modern viewers of this film. That the minds and voices of people trained in singing God's praises should end up presenting such dross, is cautionary. The morals were abonimably low, the 'church' and 'solid family' were ridiculed and one couldn't help wondering whether 'Bill' - had he ever been born - might still have gained his father's approval had he found that what really made him 'happy' was a career as a serial murderer - but we'll never know that.
Back then, there was a prevailing constraint on what men did when they happened across sweet girls on a dark night, in a forest. Because of the relentless pursuit of 'whatever makes me happy' and the abandonment of the practical considerations of the Day of Judgement, we live in a very different world - and Holywood has a lot to answer for turning the culture onto this particular road.
All power to the Christian film-making industry in the coming years - it's about time the Church attempted to recover some of the wide tracts of lost ground.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
life
Life is full of surprises but it is good to be practically reminded that the Lord is actively involved in it. The day before Ron had his (near fatal) accident I had started to read 'when God weeps, why our sufferings matter to the Almighty' - co-authored by Joni Earikson Tada. What a good thing it is that God is SO great that He directs which books I should read! I got through the first 3 or 4 chapters, then, the next day, I got the practical application - I took it into hospital with me and continued to read it. When looking for another book I happened to notice I had too copies of this book - so when David was visiting Ron in A and E I asked him if he'd see it, since he hadn't I gave him that copy and collected the other when I went home for a cup of tea and to escape the distressing language of the little drunk fellow in the bed next to Ron.
I was telling a friend about the book and the accident - he told me 'I shall be very certain not to pick up any books on the subject of suffering....'.
In discussion with Ron , after he had had his stitches out on Monday, we discussed how our intermittent weariness with life is incompatible with our reaction when we come close to actually departing! I think that most people who read this blog will have had a detailed update on the events of the past two weeks, but for those who haven't...
Two weeks ago today, Ron did office work and went out to work on the nursery at 9.15am. He was using the front-loader of the tractor to move some tree-trunk which were lying around after being cut down a month or so earlier. He's not sure what actually happened but he says the trunk slipped and hit him in the 'face'. He variously believes he passed out and didn't pass out. When he 'came round' the tractor was rolling backwards so he pulled the stop. Realising that he was bleeding he got his (very unhygienic!) hanky out of his pocket and applied it to his head. Making his way slowly back to the house he appeared in the doorway groaning - I was tidying in the schoolroom and turned round to see the casualty looking (as I thought) like he might fall on the floor - the matter which took control of my thoughts was 'get a chair' - which I did - reluctant to sit down, he did comply. He wasn't there long before he was up again and heading for the lounge. getting another chair set out I begged him to sit down and it began to dawn on me that I'd need to take him to A and E. When I suggested this he said 'no, I'll be alright' - that stumped me - I couldn't exactly order him into the car! Panic was beginning to seize me and in between asking God 'what on earth' I was supposed to do now and walking variously round in circles and up and down the house, Simon (bless him) declared we needed an ambulance. Ron eased himself off the chair onto the floor feeling a need to lie down - and I got (or asked for?) pillows! Once Simon was calling 999 I knew I had to get knitting, phone, drink, food and shoes - which helped me focus! Simon asked James to go to the end of the lane and look for the ambulance and then decided it were best if he went himself. Meanwhile Joanna and James had the presence of mind to variously get wet face-cloths and towels to place on Ron's head - and mop up the floor. I had a total LACK of presence of mind.... The first ambulance crew, uncertain what to do with the case, called up a second crew. Talk of the need for him to go to St George's in London meant that I went with him in the ambulance - that way I'd not have any difficulty finding him or parking. In the event he stayed at St Peter's A and E until 2.30am. The sewing up was done around 6pm and took a couple of hours. David came and kept us company for several hours and left at 11pm while we waited for a neck brace which would enable Ron to go home safely with his fractured vertebra. Still in pain and unable to work, he is thankful that the Lord has spared his life. Philip came and collected the plants which Ron was to have delivered at the end of that week. Thomas has been able to help out by now being on the insurance for the delivery van.
In the midst of all this, my dear Dad has been very unwell and I 've been up to Manchester a couple of times over the past 5 weeks. Dad is, now, thankfully on the mend - our prayers have borne fruit in his recent hospital stay and we continue to pray that he might recover and find peace with his Maker in due course. I've made him a lap-quilt with quotes from Psalm 23 embroidered (by machine!) onto it which he seemed to appreciate. While he is still recovering he is willing to listen to Thomas' most recent sermon - the link to which I haven't yet been able to get to him.... - and we pray that the Lord might give Thomas the joy of knowing that this will be the means of eternal good to him.
The prayers of many friends - old and new - are achieving far more than any of us can know and encouraging me to be more prayerful for others.
I was telling a friend about the book and the accident - he told me 'I shall be very certain not to pick up any books on the subject of suffering....'.
In discussion with Ron , after he had had his stitches out on Monday, we discussed how our intermittent weariness with life is incompatible with our reaction when we come close to actually departing! I think that most people who read this blog will have had a detailed update on the events of the past two weeks, but for those who haven't...
Two weeks ago today, Ron did office work and went out to work on the nursery at 9.15am. He was using the front-loader of the tractor to move some tree-trunk which were lying around after being cut down a month or so earlier. He's not sure what actually happened but he says the trunk slipped and hit him in the 'face'. He variously believes he passed out and didn't pass out. When he 'came round' the tractor was rolling backwards so he pulled the stop. Realising that he was bleeding he got his (very unhygienic!) hanky out of his pocket and applied it to his head. Making his way slowly back to the house he appeared in the doorway groaning - I was tidying in the schoolroom and turned round to see the casualty looking (as I thought) like he might fall on the floor - the matter which took control of my thoughts was 'get a chair' - which I did - reluctant to sit down, he did comply. He wasn't there long before he was up again and heading for the lounge. getting another chair set out I begged him to sit down and it began to dawn on me that I'd need to take him to A and E. When I suggested this he said 'no, I'll be alright' - that stumped me - I couldn't exactly order him into the car! Panic was beginning to seize me and in between asking God 'what on earth' I was supposed to do now and walking variously round in circles and up and down the house, Simon (bless him) declared we needed an ambulance. Ron eased himself off the chair onto the floor feeling a need to lie down - and I got (or asked for?) pillows! Once Simon was calling 999 I knew I had to get knitting, phone, drink, food and shoes - which helped me focus! Simon asked James to go to the end of the lane and look for the ambulance and then decided it were best if he went himself. Meanwhile Joanna and James had the presence of mind to variously get wet face-cloths and towels to place on Ron's head - and mop up the floor. I had a total LACK of presence of mind.... The first ambulance crew, uncertain what to do with the case, called up a second crew. Talk of the need for him to go to St George's in London meant that I went with him in the ambulance - that way I'd not have any difficulty finding him or parking. In the event he stayed at St Peter's A and E until 2.30am. The sewing up was done around 6pm and took a couple of hours. David came and kept us company for several hours and left at 11pm while we waited for a neck brace which would enable Ron to go home safely with his fractured vertebra. Still in pain and unable to work, he is thankful that the Lord has spared his life. Philip came and collected the plants which Ron was to have delivered at the end of that week. Thomas has been able to help out by now being on the insurance for the delivery van.
In the midst of all this, my dear Dad has been very unwell and I 've been up to Manchester a couple of times over the past 5 weeks. Dad is, now, thankfully on the mend - our prayers have borne fruit in his recent hospital stay and we continue to pray that he might recover and find peace with his Maker in due course. I've made him a lap-quilt with quotes from Psalm 23 embroidered (by machine!) onto it which he seemed to appreciate. While he is still recovering he is willing to listen to Thomas' most recent sermon - the link to which I haven't yet been able to get to him.... - and we pray that the Lord might give Thomas the joy of knowing that this will be the means of eternal good to him.
The prayers of many friends - old and new - are achieving far more than any of us can know and encouraging me to be more prayerful for others.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
It's a long time since I posted on here but with the excitement of a planned trip to Prague with Joanna I'm back in blogging mode. We've got the challenge of going for 6 nights and taking no more than will fit in a carry-on (though we are assured of the use of a washing machine!). We met a lady at church today who shared in our excitement - and that made it something more to look forward to.
We've already drawn up a menu and laid-in the food for the men (and Victoria) back at home.
We've got an app for learning Czech and a little guide book for Prague to prepare ourselves.
