Father, I thank You for these man-made shells, which become our homes as they fill with noise and laughter, silence and tears, memories and hopes. I thank You for their protection, for the safety found within. I thank You for the life that grows surrounded by these walls; a place we make our own. Amen

When complaints often come easier than thanksgiving - I thank you Father for these dishes, which signify food and drink aplenty. I thank You for each mouth that partook of meals together. Amen

Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance. Jude 1:2 Most gracious and loving Heavenly Father, I thank You for You have sustained me through this school year. I thank You for Your provision of strength and energy even on the hardest of days. I thank You for walking with me on the mountain tops: the moments of joy, the times of bonding and fellowship, the times when the learning and the teaching came easily. I thank You for journeying with me through the valleys. On the days I wanted to give up. During times of frustration and grumblings. On the days when learning was hard and teaching even harder. I thank You that I never left the shadow of Your wings and that You have seen me, valued me and noticed me as I have sought to lead and serve my family in this way. Lord, we are nearing the end of this season and oftentimes feel the increasing need for rest, for reprieve and refueling. Some days Lord, it feels like summer will never come. And yet some days time flies and I become aware again of the limited time I have with these dear ones whom I am not only tasked with teaching, but also with parenting and loving. Father, it is my desire to finish well. That we will not succumb to wishing away the time together, nor give in to half-hearted efforts put forth. Help us to find balance between being present in the here and now and thinking ahead to plans for the summer and next school year May You continue to be the source of my daily strength and joy. Remind me of my calling to teach during this season and equip me each day to face challenges with grace, love, humor and humility. Renew my spirit and uplift me as I seek to lead these children towards You, keeping my mind focused and my heart seeking You above all else. In Jesus' name Amen

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23 You are with me always, Lord. You do not leave, You do not abandon. Nor do You push, pressure or suffocate. You wait patiently, whilst I, so distracted by life’s bumps and turns, lose my way and wander away from Your path. My heart wonders where You have gone, but the truthful answer is ‘nowhere.’ You are ever-present, always constant, secure and steadfast. It is I who has wandered. Not so much from forgetfulness or lack of desire for You, but having allowed myself to be overcome by the distractions around me. I have chosen time away from You over time with You. Even though these choices do not feel intentional, they have nevertheless left me feeling empty. Like there is a chasm between us and I have failed yet again. Forgive me Lord for my ever flitting thoughts, my oft distracted mind and my misplaced priorities. Forgive my choices to ‘escape’ rather than dwell, to fix rather than place at Your feet, to flick through endless technological reels instead of soaking in Your words. Help me Lord. Draw me back into Your arms, allowing Your forgiveness to penetrate my soul and saturate my very being. Call me gently, nudge me, hold my hand and walk with me. Focus my eyes and my heart for You. Let me be captivated by Your presence, enraptured by Your fragrance, held fast by Your loving gaze upon me. Thank You Father. Amen

You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence. Psalm 16:11 Dear Lord, In these morning moments, fleeting as they are, before the onslaught of frantic chaos begins, anchor me firmly to You. Flood me with Your peace, Your words, Your kindness. That out of an overflow of You, those under my charge may be drawn to You, may start their day with calm focus and love. As I can barely peel my eyes open, my body weary and not ready to begin this day anew, grant me patience, strength, energy and a supernatural ability to hold my tongue. Watch over these sweet souls for me throughout the day. Shelter their minds, guard their hearts, protect their bodies. Draw them to You! To You Lord, I commit this day, those I love and these coming moments together as our day begins. In Jesus’ Name I pray, Amen

Prayer for Our hurting world (Ukraine focus)

Well hello there friend. Please make yourself comfy. It’s good to catch up. I’m sitting down to talk to you after quite the week! It’s not what I had planned and whilst not horrendous, fortunately, it’s certainly made for some quick adjustments to our daily life. I have one word: Quarantine. It sort of conjures up images of animals being brought into a country from overseas. At least, that was the total of my experience of quarantine up until last week. Now we’ve lived through lock-downs and activity restrictions so far this last year, but the ‘don’t go anywhere, don’t see anyone, try to keep contaminated people separate from the rest of the family,’ well that’s a new one. We are lucky, unlike so many. So far, it’s not been bad. A couple of individuals with minor symptoms and the rest - nothing. At least not yet. I had not realised how long the quarantine restrictions were in this state, maybe everywhere I really don’t know, until the bombshell of the positive Covid test happened last week. Weeks of togetherness that I’m sure I should be treasuring. Lots of questions and really not many answers. No one can tell you who will get sick and how bad. No one knew how we’d come to have a positive case in our house either. We’d been so careful. We’d done due diligence and yet here we were facing a purgatory sentence with one another. I’m going to be honest, I didn’t handle it terribly well. I was quite irritated that this inconvenience was landing in our laps. I had lots of practical concerns over the shopping, the earnings, the schooling. I oscillated between bouts of frustration and panic. Oh I knew God had it in control, but my mind was racing. I’d gone into survival mum mode and that switch would not turn off. I was mentally trying to figure out how to ‘get caught up’ with the washing and the cleaning in case I was the next to succumb to this brutally unpredictable illness. We had tears as I told the kids and my second oldest realised she’d be spending her birthday in quarantine. Last year’s celebrations had also been curtailed and amended. It was a trivial point in the scheme of the universe, but to her it was everything. We’re still hoping no one is actually ill on her birthday as we have tried to come up with ways to make the date special even though it’s just us - again. My reactions - and they were that - were coming off the back of sleepless nights, a teething baby, and my own frustratingly ongoing medical saga. I was done in and then Covid. Covid, no less with the one family member who ends up needing an inhaler and nebuliser anytime anything goes to their chest. I knew God was around here somewhere, but I wasn’t really feeling it. The daily rhythms that I’d just started to find again after the fog of postnatal of depression had begun to lift, were rudely interrupted and cast aside, as I had no idea how to find time or space for quiet in the house of never-ending noise. I love my family. I just didn’t know if I could love them enough through this and save my sanity at the same time. I’d love to say that a week in we’ve figured this out. That I’ve found a rhythm and life has been one giant time of bonding and thriving. No, that’s not us. We’ve had rough days and meltdowns and pacing the floors like caged animals. I am so grateful that today, as I write this, the sun has been out and we’ve been outside. Warmth. At last. But we’re starting to settle. I’m starting to accept the endless grazing and dishes from having everyone at home. The increased workload that each day brings. But it’s OK. Lemons. There’s the saying I’ve heard time and again, “when life gives you lemons, you just have to make lemonade.” I think there is truth in this. We have definitely had our lemonade moments. I have watched my oldest take on caring for a younger sibling in a selfless, loving, servant-hearted way. I was so proud to watch it unfold and it makes up for so much of the smart-mouthing phase of life we are in right now. We have watched movies and baked cookies and read books and made up stories. We have bounced on the trampoline and played flashlight tag. Yes, we’ve had our moments of lemonade and they have been good. Very good. But honestly, the rest of the time we are just living with lemons. Sometimes, I think life is like that. We want to make the best of things and indeed we even try to do that at times, but I think there are times that we just have to be OK with being in a place of living with the hard, the tough and the challenging. Sometimes we have to live with mundane and mediocre - and sometimes those things are the best that life is going to get at that time. Sometimes, we just have to hold the lemons in our hands and acknowledge that they are there. We don’t always have to have a perfect solution to the trials that we face. We don’t always have to travel through the valleys with grace - although that would be ideal. We don’t always have to have answers or reasons or understanding for why things are the way they are. Sometimes this is just life and we just have to hold onto those lemons and let them be part of our life. Yes, I know that sounds strange. The funny thing with lemons though, is that though they are bitter to the taste, they are beautiful to look at and the scent can be refreshing. I start to wonder if, when I stop trying to make lemonade all the time and start to accept that those lemons may sit in the bowl on my counter for quite a while, I can nevertheless find the beauty. I’m not saying that tragic events and hardships have some sort of silver lining. Sometimes they just don’t. In fact, probably mostly they just don’t. But I do know that there is a redemption story that is at work in my life, no matter what is going on. So, I do know that there will continue to be moments of making lemonade. I do know that when I sit and look at those lemons, I mean really look, I will start to see just where that beautiful yellow sunshiny colour has been the whole time. God hasn’t gone anywhere. So that means that in the midst of living with lemons He is continuing to weave a redemption story. He is continuing to refine, continuing to uphold, continuing to encourage, to bring peace, to provide. It doesn’t mean that the circumstances have changed. It doesn’t mean that the outcome will be any different. It just means that God is as busy working while the lemons sit there as He is when I’m squeezing them like crazy to make lemonade. And if God will live with me and my lemons, then I’m starting to think that maybe being in this place is OK.

Hello dear friends. I’m so glad you stopped by. Let me wish you a heartfelt Christmas season blessing. May you experience a deep-seated joy this season. One not found because of the abundance of privileged living, not because of the splendour of activities and beauty of lavish decorations….though may you find enjoyment in these things and a heart filled with thanksgiving for them. But may you find the life-giving joy that comes from knowing that you are known and loved by a beautiful, wonderful, Father and Saviour. I think, this year probably more than most, is a year when we so desperately need to tap into this joy and into the peace that it also brings. If your holidays have been stream-lined and brought to a place of simplicity, may you experience rest for your soul. May you experience the gift of time for pouring into life-giving conversations and relationships...even if that is over a screen. And my friend, may you be blessed with the gift of hope. Hope for the future, which keeps the light burning within us as we wade through times of darkness and struggle. Sit with me awhile. Can you breathe in some stillness? Can you close your eyes and just let go? Just relax. Can you look out your window and take in something of the beauty of creation? Join me on this wintry day, the snow has fallen outside and it is cold. At least, cold outside. The heating is going, there are blankets and sweaters and fuzzy slippers surrounding me. I can admire the beauty of the white blanket that has enveloped my outside world, all from the safety of my cocooned inner world. I have pondered these past weeks about the words I could write, that they would mean something and not just be clutter filling a void. I have thought about the abundance of articles written in time for the holidays, bringing our focus onto the true meaning of the season, of the encouragements and seasonal salutations, of the writings looking to the future and the new year ahead and reflecting back on what has been and I find myself wondering, what do I have to say? What can I say that hasn’t been said a hundred times before? The answer to this question may, of course, be nothing. Maybe my message is one that has been heard time and again and maybe it serves a purpose in that. But maybe in our conversation, we might give an ear to the Lord for a quiet nudge of something He wants to share with us. “Quiet” is a relative term in my house. It really is something that only truly occurs for a brief time after everyone is asleep - usually temporarily. During the day there is a constant barrage of sound. Machines rumble, voices echo throughout the house, footsteps pitter patter or probably more accurately thump with a sound that is more akin to that of a herd of elephants passing by. Objects clatter, phones ring, bleep and beep. Alarm clocks go off at unexpected times and ring continually until I can find the room they are located in. TV shows get turned on and left running, video games blast, violins squeak, pianos plonk and guitars send vibrations through the walls and the floors. Questions, conversations. I love it all….most of the time, except for the moments when I’m ready to tear my hair out. I’d give anything for a moment of peace and quiet. A chance to sip a drink while it’s still hot, to read a page in a book without interruption. Thinking space is hard to come by on a regular basis. This constant hailstorm of noise and information has been intensified this last year, courtesy of the additional time we’ve spent together. The time together is not something that I’m sad about, on the contrary, it has been enjoyable a lot of the time, but it has made me aware of a shift in thinking that needs to happen - at least within my own life. A change in the way I work, do life and most importantly walk with the Lord. During these months of noise, I have found the Lord teaching me about an inner quiet and more about inviting him into every corner of my life. There is importance in silence and solitude. Uninterrupted conversation with the One who keeps the world spinning, mine, yours and everyone else’s. The reality, of course, is that silence and solitude is not always easy to create. A chance to get away from it all, is nye impossible. For many right now, these things I crave are a heavy burden. People alone and desperate for noise to fill their homes. So, it is with eyes open that I pen these words, recognizing the challenge I face is not the challenge of another. Never has the divide between extremes been so palpable. On one level, I am grateful for my noise. On another level, I am desperate for the chance to hear myself think. I would give anything for a piece of your quiet and you’d give anything for a piece of my cacophony. And still, we find ourselves here. Unable to change where we are and who we are with or without. So, in this unchangeable place that I find myself, I must find a way to embrace it, live it and love it. I must find an inner quiet that can resonate in the chambers of my heart when all around me the humdrum continues. I must find a silence within my mind that tunes out the bombarding, attention demanding distractions that relentlessly pursue a part of me. Somehow I need to enable that quieted mind and overflowing heart to relentlessly pursue a relationship with my Saviour with that same vigour and determination that my smallest child uses when she wants to hold onto me. Father, help me! It sounds so easy. But it seems so impossible. Like I’m standing at the foot of a mountain. Quiet, stillness, in my heart and my mind? Finding You in the laundry pile and the homework? Never have you, Lord, seemed so near and yet so far out of reach! But I know, that really you’re not. You haven’t gone anywhere. This is where I find myself. Trying to embrace during this present season of life. Coming to a place where my communion with God is not limited to the place that I am in. It walks with me throughout my day into every nook and cranny. Changing everything about every moment. It is in the thick of the battle field. Believe me when I tell you that my home looks like a war of cereal and pillows, with landmines of building blocks thrown in. There’s a grounding that happens in our lives when we fill moments with God, like somehow the feet of my soul have rooted themselves down deep and the storms can swirl around me and the noise can be like thunder, but that anchoring will not be moved. A peace and a calm, which is not based upon that which surrounds us. It allows us freedom to move through our day a little lighter. It all sounds quite idyllic really. Peace, calm, grounding, freedom. Who wouldn’t want that? The problem that I find before me, is, of course, how exactly we achieve this. That is, if it is something to be ‘achieved’ in the first place. I certainly don’t profess to be an expert in this. Far from it, a veritable novice. I am typically easily swayed by the winds that blow and undone by the storms that come in. I struggle to find time for prayer and reflection, never-mind deep biblical study. It is in this place that I come to feel that there must be a better way and upon this quest that I start to find tools to help me. To find rhythms and ‘rituals’ in my spiritual life, I am coming to recognize a need for them in my daily life. Not in a legalistic fashion - and I must guard against this - but in a way that brings windows of opportunity for engaging with the sacred even within the most unholy confines of my quotidian life. Whilst my day is never going to run on a military schedule, it can nevertheless have recurring moments and themes that facilitate moments of divine connection. Coffee and a page of an inspirational book to start my day. Five minutes of my time. Maybe longer if I’m lucky. But brain fuel, as well as body. Words written by far holier, far more devoted, educated and connected people, but words that can inspire, that can give my mind thinking fuel as I commence the tasks for the day. If habits take time to establish, then starting small, seems a good place to begin, because surely trying to turn myself into a chant-singing, Bible-reciting scholar, with the patience of a Saint, is not going to happen in one swift go. For the years I have spent cultivating the many unhealthy habits that I possess, I can guarantee that the adoption of new, life-bringing ones is likely to take a while. ‘Small’ means I don’t give up in defeat when I fall at the first milestone. I have recently discovered the beauty of liturgical prayers. I have not spent much time in churches that embrace a full liturgical life, so this is a newer experience to me. Though I have made use of pre-worded prayers before. These have been especially helpful during the (many) times that I have found myself without words to pray or with so many words that I don’t know where to start. I have also found a beauty within these prayers, not only for helping me express my heart but also to calm my mind, attune my senses and bring a focus to my thoughts. Like a delightful piece of poetry, these prayers bring enjoyment, fulfillment and grounding. There is also immeasurable comfort in realising that many of these things I feel and think are also thought, felt and expressed (!) by others. I am not alone. I am joined with the rest of humanity in my humanity. Snatching a moment to read through a prayer. In a minute. A quick, short minute, while I fill a cup, wait for a kettle to boil, eat a sandwich. Moments in time when I can engage with the Lord and keep my heart and mind attuned to higher things. I find that when my focus is….where it should be…then, perhaps unsurprisingly, I have a little more grace, a little more patience, a little more hope, a little more peace, a little more direction, a little more determined, a little more engaged, a little more aware of the Spirit’s prompting. Little by little these treasures have opportunity to grow. Not because of any huge change that I have made, but simply because I have started to find the beauty in continued connection with the anchor holding me fast. That continued connection becomes something I crave and desire. The more I experience it, the more I want it and because it grows gradually at a pace I can sustain, it grows with me and I with it. The temptation to feel dissatisfied in ‘slow and steady’ is rendered empty because I not only learn to appreciate the blessings in journey, avoiding feelings of not being enough, but I see forward movement in the continual flow of conversation, the spoken and the heard. Does that mean that I won’t slide backwards ever? Not at all. Of course, there will probably be many days and seasons when I don’t have my priorities in order, when I choose to forgo connection for the sake of something else. There will be time and again that I blow it. But the wonderful thing about God, is that He will nevertheless be there waiting for me. May I encourage you? Encourage you to find your moments? To look for opportunity through your day to snatch connection and to find the rhythms that work for you? Your ‘thing’ may not be coffee and a book. Maybe yours is in walking through your garden. Maybe yours is in baking treats or painting pictures or knitting socks. Maybe that is where you find your minutes and moments to connect with God. But I am certain, as you allow the rhythms to hold a place within your life, the grounding too will come. The peace, the steady drip drip of living water. So, my friend, in the midst of the crazy, the noise, the endless demands, let me offer you this assurance: God’s presence through it all and His gentle quiet that can fill your heart, your mind and your soul.

Hello my friend and a hearty welcome to you. The sky is darkening as evening comes earlier each day and the rain is pattering down. I’m sitting inside, warmed by the light of a fire and lamp, listening to the drip drip of the raindrops hitting the ground outside. I have been reflecting upon the level of division and discord that seem to be permeating society at the moment. This lack of harmony is soaking down into the very fabric of individual relationships. What, at one time not so long ago, was flourishing has now seen the very things that joined it together being torn apart. For the Christian world, this is a devastation. They body of Christ slaying one another through words if not through actions. Offering condemnation instead of hope. Bringing bitterness instead of joy. Raising up self-righteousness instead of self-sacrifice. Giving in to pride instead of humility. Oh and the fall out my friend. The cost of this war? And the world looks on. What do they see when they look to the church? Dear friend my heart is grieved. I fear we have lost our focus. However, I do not think all is lost. God is better than that. He is in the business of restoration. The story of humanity has been one of restoration since the very beginning, or at the very least the offer of restoration. It is not imposed upon us, we are free to be part of the story or turn our back upon it. I am pondering two pictures that have been in my mind for the last day or so. Let me share them with you. One is a picture of two friends standing on either side of some railway tracks. The sky is grey and cloudy. The area has a forlorn look about it. Run down. Industrial. Battered and bruised. Buildings abandoned long ago. Weeds poking up through cracks in concrete, rubbish littering the edge of the tracks. Carelessly discarded by passersby. There is no barrier running along the edge of tracks. It is exposed. Accessible: dangerously so. I would expect to see a crossing but there isn’t one. Not here. The other image is much the same in appearance, though the sky is brighter. The stark difference is the foot-bridge, with stairs that ascend next to one side of the track, a footbridge across the tracks and another set of steps descending on the other side. It’s a pretty industrial looking bridge. Completely fitting for the surroundings. Made of metal, hard lines, robust. It’s not an attractive bridge, not a thing of postcards and romantic photos. No, it is very much placed and designed for purpose and work. To remain solid, to be a means to allow someone safely across the tracks. As I consider these images, my mind is drawn to the two people separated by the tracks. I wonder what their story is. I get the feeling that at one time, they were walking together along a trail next to the railway line. But now they find themselves here. It was a scenic path. Fine weather, beautiful scenery, a few sticks to cause some stumbles, but really a smooth path. Trains come through here occasionally, but it doesn’t really bother these friends. They are walking side by side. Easily able to hear the other’s voice, to see their face, their expression. They can tell when their friend is getting tired and sorely in need of a rest. Their hand is ready to offer a steadying support when needed. Gradually the scenery started to change, the woodland dispersed, the flowers disappeared, the fields started to look dry and the appearance of concrete became increasingly frequent. At some point along this walk, there was a gentle, sloped pedestrian crossing to get over to the other side of the line. One friend crossed and the other kept walking. They could still talk, the gap wasn’t that far, but now sometimes when trains came by, they lost sight of one another. Sometimes, debris from the train dropped down on one side or another, sometimes hitting, sometimes tripping one or other of these friends. The trouble was that there wasn’t someone there to pick them up. They were separated by the tracks. When the train had passed, these friends would check in with each other but it got harder and sometimes the injuries sustained needed more than words could provide. There was bandaging that needed to be done, but no hands to do it. Tears to be wiped and a shoulder to cry on, but no arms to hold and comfort. As the journey continued the frequency of trains hurtling by grew greater and greater. The scenery became dull. It became unattractive. It became unpleasant. And conversation grew harder and harder. Finally these friends stopped walking. They stopped, surrounded by the dirty, grimy, broken place they were now in. They stood and looked at one another. They each knew that the other needed them. They could see the pain. They could see the scuffs from the stumbling, the scrapes from flying rubbish. But they didn’t have the words to say. Each time one friend would try to cross those tracks, along came a train. There was no safe passage across. These trains were big, bulky things. Carrying the weight of the world. Sometimes fast moving and sometimes chugging slowly along. Sometimes carrying noisy passengers who enjoyed shouting out of the windows and staring at the friends as they passed by. Sometimes carrying freight, which spilled over the edge, dropping fragments along its path. Time and again they tried to cross but there didn’t seem to be a way. Defeated and with shoulders slumped, each friend started to think about walking away. It would be easier than trying to get over the divide. But neither were ready to give up just yet. Each knew there had to be a way. They waited. They tried to start talking again. It was hard. The trains didn’t suddenly stop coming. This time though, these friends, they remembered that there was a station master who could help them cross. Both these friends knew this station master, it’s just that in the midst of all the noise and the flying debris and the obstacles, they’d forgotten that he was the one who could bridge the divide. One of those friends put in a call and perhaps to their surprise found that a staircase was not far away from them. They started walking towards the steps and slowly started to climb. They were weary. They’d been standing for a long time. There were quite a few steps to get to the top and strangely these steps had names. Humility. Repentance. Grace. Understanding. Gentleness. Self-control. Forgiveness. Unity. As they were climbing they looked over and could see their friend doing the same thing. They could see when their friend lost footing and slipped as a train came hurtling by. They could see their friend trying. Their friend could see them too. Sometimes it would take a minute to catch their breath but these friends, they kept on climbing. At the top of the steps was a footbridge. Built to hold the weight of all those people who would need to cross those tracks. It wasn’t fragile, it didn’t shake and rattle when the trains went by and printed firmly into the path was Love. These friends, well they met again on that bridge and they started to talk. Words came slowly at first, gradually gaining speed until conversation was flowing as though it had never stopped. From here they could see the trains coming down the track, but up on this bridge, there was no flying debris to hit them. They could talk about the coming train and how big or fast it seemed. They could see whether it was carrying people or things and they could see how loose the cargo may be. They learned which type of trains had caused the most pain to each other, which caused the most nervousness, which the most dread. Sometimes there would be a gush of wind that could rock their footing a little, but the bridge was firm and strong. When these friends stood on this bridge, they were safe. Holding the rail for stability. The great divide was down below. They could still see it but it no longer kept them apart. It was still ugly around them but the sun was coming out and lighting up shards of glass and reflecting beauty in a strange sort of way. Dear friend - if you find yourself on the other side of the track, I am sorry. Won’t you climb the steps with me?