Taking our dogs

for a walk

on the beach

my breath is taken away

by another glorious sunrise.

So much so

it jolts me into

rethinking the idea of

ordinary.

Ordinary has overtones

of plain, everyday or boring.

This scene

of pastel pinks and blues

framed by delicate clouds

and crowned by the moon

is neither plain nor boring.

There is a sunrise

every day

but this scene

is not ordinary.

This scene

teeming with delight is

gobsmacking

grace-filled

and reminds me

again

to not sleep walk

through the joys

right in front of me.

Rather, to open my eyes

see

and savour

God’s bounty

in all its forms.

It doesn’t matter the weather

The bay radiates beauty

It could be delicate pastels

in the morning.

Multiple shades of blue

in full sunshine.

Brooding greys

of sea and sky

that are both foreboding

and magnificent.

Glorious golds, oranges and reds

as the day closes.

The point is to pay attention

and be open to the grace

lavishly laid on.

I gaze at the

pale blue sky

of the start of winter

with its welcome sunshine

casting a golden glow

as the day wanes.

Listening to the

joyful and captivating music

of Muddy Waters.

I sense God at work

in all this

(and more)

as I am deeply appreciative

of this moment.

I leave my home the next morning

and am greeted by the dark

and chill

and the splendour

of a slightly yellow moon

setting on its night’s work.

Ordinary? Maybe.

Yet it takes my breath away

and both calms and cheers me

to face the day.

Grace is always there.

Do I have the eyes to see?

Growing straight and tall

Having seen one hundred

Summers and winters go by

Smooth sinuous pale bark

With the occasion flecks

Of brown

Arms outstretched

In petition

For sun and rain

In acceptance

Of all that is given

Ordinary wonder

Of your creation

Connected to all

That was and is and is to come

That oozes peace

Pastels of blue and pink

in the sky

reflected in the water

that is almost perfectly still.

Gloden ochre cliffs

shimmering

help frame the scene.

Just when I’m filled with bliss

regular, gently insistent waves

which signal the tide

roll to shore

amplifying the beauty and peace

that my thirsty soul wishes to store.

Superlatives are rendered meaningless.

All I have is ‘thank you, God’.

At Easter we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. We celebrate that suffering and even death do not have the last word. In our current circumstances of the pandemic of COVID-19, could there be news that is better than this, news that is more timely, more appropriate?

During this time, it is easy to feel upset, off-kilter, uncertain – but at Easter we need to remember Jesus’ words “I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly”. So we each need to ask ourselves, what gives me life?

• What people give me life?
• What situations give me life?
• What activities give me life?

Whoever and whatever they are, be with those people in whatever way you can, engage in those activities however you can. Be assured that the Holy Spirit will continue to be with us and guide us into the truth (John 16:13) – about ourselves and about life. Part of that truth at this time is our shared humanity and to do all we can to support each other.

Jesus spoke truth to power

calling out greed

and power-grabbing

especially those done in God’s name.

So his pain and suffering

were brought about by injustice

but borne with love:

love of God

love of humanity

love of integrity.

Do I help those around me

to carry their difficulties?

Do I bear my difficulties

with love?

Jesus is present

God is present – with us.

Part of the reason

for the eucharist

is to remember

the presence of Jesus – with us

whenever we gather.

We give thanks for God’s many blessings

especially at this time

when it is easy to focus

on what we don’t have,

rather than the joy and mystery

of the love that binds us.

The glimpses of God’s wonder

in the sunny day,

the bird’s song,

the baby’s cry

and the intricate, yet ephemeral, beauty

of the spider’s web.

Because we forget,

we must remember.

God – with us, always.

Physically separated from my faith community, I’ve been pondering a symbolic action. This came out:   

May we call to mind

the blessings we have received

from this branch:

source of oxygen

food and home for other links

in God’s startling web of creation.

The water we sprinkle

life-giving to all it touches.

Water and branch combined

are symbols of the majesty

of which we are a humble part.

Water and branch remind us

in all their subtle complexity

that we are in God’s reign.

This extraordinary time reminded me of the following quote from ‘The Plague’ by Albert Camus

“and to state quite simply what we learn in a time of pestilence: that there are more things to admire in men than to despise.

None the less, he knew the tale he had to tell could not be one of a final victory. It could only be the record of what had had to be done, and what assuredly would have to be done again in the never-ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaughts, despite their personal afflictions, by all who, while unable to be saints but refusing to bow down to pestilences, strive their utmost to be healers”