Category: Blessings

Over the last couple of days parts of the UK (perhaps even most of the UK) has had an unusual amount of snow. I say “parts of the UK” because we’ve hardly had anything, but we have had some.

On the morning of the first fall I was first up so took a quick peep between the curtains to see whether anything had arrived overnight. There was a good deal of white, but nothing too deep.

I thought about going for a walk but decided to turn on the radio instead. I was greeted by what can only be described as a tirade of bad news – all because of this stuff called snow.

What made this seeming disaster all the more reportable was that it had occurred primarily in the south, and specifically in London. This is very unusual, and as such they are completely unprepared for the effects of a mass invasion of ice crystals, poor dears.

The roads were blocked, the railways were cancelled, the underground was running a reduced service (not sure how snow affects an underground train?), businesses weren’t able to open, schools were closed for the day, bad news, bad news, bad news.

I was just starting to get sucked into feeling the reporters definite impatience at the disruption of it all when Emily walked into the room. As I had done, she opened the curtains, looked outside, and stated as only a young pre-teenage girl can, “cool”.

Emily wasn’t just stating a fact about the temperature outside. In that one word she broke through all of the doom and gloom being fired at me from the radio and reminded me that snow is FUN. A child’s perspective.

We can get so adult about things like snow, focussing on the inconvenience of it all, when really we should be celebrating the opportunity to do something different for a change.

Jesus had some things to say about children:

One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could touch and bless them. But the disciples scolded the parents for bothering him.

When Jesus saw what was happening, he was angry with his disciples. He said to them, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Then he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them.

Mark 10

Jesus wasn’t just saying that children were important to him – which they are. He was also saying that we should have their perspective.

Adults can get so stuck in their ways – children see everything as an opportunity.

(I’m not sure how much longer I will be able to describe Emily as a child, but I think I can get away with it for now)

There’s no getting around the fact that I’m getting older, and getting older brings with it some consequences.

One of the consequences for me has been the migration of hair follicles from the top of my head into my nose and ear cavity. This bring two problems, one of which I won’t discuss today, but the second one is that my head now needs something to keep it warm in the cold, and cool in the heat.

Once upon a time I had hair that was an ample cover for my head, and even ventured down onto my shoulders, but those days are no more.

The simple addition of a piece of cloth on my balding pate makes all the difference, and I’m grateful for it.

“That is why, no matter how desperate the predicament is, I am always very much in earnest about clutching my cane, straightening my derby hat and fixing my tie, even though I have just landed on my head.”

Charlie Chaplin

In the upstairs study where I spend much of my working life is an Ikea sofa-bed. It’s not a grand sofa-bed, in normal Ikea style it’s quite a simple affair. There’s little more to it than a metal frame, some wooden slats and two large pieces of foam. Yet for all its simplicity this sofa-bed is a real blessing to me.

For me, this sofa-bed represents a place of quiet, a place to stop and to relax.

At the other side of the room from this sofa-bed is my desk covered in all sorts of detritus; bills to pay, letters to be responded to as well as more than my fair share of technical gubbins associated with my work.

The sofa-bed is different though, it’s a place of tranquillity.

It’s almost like it’s a room of two halves, but to put a divide between the two would be a mistake. It’s not the contents of the room that make the difference it’s really my attitude to what happens in the different places. The desk can be quite a stressful place as I’m trying to get my work done. When i make time to be quiet I sit on the sofa-bed.

There’s are few things I like more than to sit on the sofa-bed with a cup of coffee and to write in my journal while the technical gubbins provides some quiet relaxing music.

The desk is a place of labour and stress. The sofa-bed is a place to stop and contemplate, because that is what I have made them.

It’s a blessing to have a place of quiet.

It’s the last day of 2008 and I’m sitting in my house waiting for a whole bunch of folks to arrive to help us see in 2009. Today, of all days, I find myself being grateful for the ordinary things of life.

It’s very cold outside and the central heating is doing its ordinary job of keeping the house warm.

The lights are shining so I can see what I’m doing.

The electricity socket is charging my laptop (it woke me up beeping away last night after I left it on stand-by for a few days and the battery finally ran out of juice).

The television is playing chitty-chitty-bang-bang in the ordinary way that it does.

The walls and windows are standing where they have for the last few years keeping the wind out and the heat in.

I’m sitting on a chair in the corner of the lounge, where it ordinarily is.

This is my ordinary life.

Today I feel very conscious that for much of the world my ordinary life is completely extraordinary. These ordinary everyday things only exist in their dreams, or in the pictures of a magazine.

Sometimes I get fed-up of my ordinary and long for something different, I forget that my life is already extraordinary. My ordinary is exactly what God wants from me.

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him.”

Romans 12:1

The postman had a few parcels to deliver in our cul-de-sac today.

He has become a regular visit to one of the houses in the close since Linda, who lives there, became an avid ebay bidder and seller.

Having delivered Linda’s daily rations he walked across to our house with something still in his hands. Even though I was expecting a parcel any day soon it’s still exciting to see the postman come up the path and knock on our door.

I can’t tell you what the parcel had in it because it’s a surprise for someone, which of course, just makes it even more exciting.

When the postman comes with letters it’s a bit of a lottery as to whether he is bringing something exciting, or something, how shall I put this, less than exciting. There are days when all of the letters that the poor postie has spent hours carry take only 30 seconds to travel to our paper recycling bin.

Parcels are different though, parcels are nearly always exciting. You don’t get bills as a parcel, they are never that ugly. You don’t get junk parcels, the worst I can say about a parcel is that it was disappointing.

Even if we know the parcel is coming, and that we’ve paid for it. It’s somehow like we’ve received a gift and gifts are always good to receive. It’s one of these simple pleasures in life.

Sometimes I find myself missing out on these simple pleasures. I can become so task focussed that I forget to enjoy the pleasure of receiving. It’s so easy to get the parcel, open the parcel, take out what is inside, and return to what I was doing before.

Sometimes I have to admit that I look at the present and measure it’s value to see whether it is big enough to get excited about without realising that it’s a gift. Every gift should be appreciated no matter how big or how small. I’m not sure that we should be measuring the size anyway.

I regularly come to my desk at home to find some form of picture or other artistic creation that Emily has left. It’s normally been created while she was using the computer and she’s left it there as a gift.

It’s the season of parcels and gifts, try not to miss out on them.

Try not to miss out on the gifts that are there every day. That’s what the blessings are, a gift ever day.

This weekend I was speaking at a Men’s Breakfast in a local hotel. It’s something a group of the men from church organise. I’ve never spoken there before, and quite enjoyed myself. Public speaking isn’t really one of my things, but this was OK.

A number of people came up to me at the end and said “thank you”. Their gratitude wasn’t just in their words, I could see it in their faces. It was very encouraging.

When I was younger someone once said to me that a “thank you” costs nothing, but was worth a lot.

Simple gratitude is a real blessing to the person receiving it.

It wasn’t until today that I had made the realisation that it was also good for the giver. Another blog that I read was talking about it:

In her book, The How of Happiness, Sonja Lyubomirsky explores a dozen scientifically proven strategies to make you happier. The first? Expressing gratitude. I try to start my day with my gratitude journal. Honestly, it determines what kind of day I’m going to have regardless of what happens that day, good or bad.

As I’ve thought about that this afternoon I’ve contemplated some of the people I know. The happy ones tend to be the grateful ones, the ungrateful ones tend to be somewhat glum.

It’s certainly a better experience to be around grateful people and I’ve been very blessed with some people who are experts at gratitude. I have to confess to not being the worlds best in this regard and I could certainly be more grateful, perhaps that’s a little of what this blog is about.

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God.

Colossians 3:16

A big thank you to all of you for reading, and a special thank you to those of you that comment, it’s great to get feedback.

Earlier this evening on twitter I asked this question: “Do I stay or do I go – have finished meetings, am I better finishing work here, or better going home and finishing there?”

Steve replied: “Go home and have a walk in the evening sunshine – I should take my own advise!”

As it happened Emily, Jonathan and myself found ourselves surprisingly at a loose end this evening. With Steve’s words still on my mind, we took his advice and drove up to Scorton; it’s a beautiful little Lancashire village.

We parked the car by the bowling green next to the church. The crown green bowling was in full swing – a quintessentially English scene.

As we made our way up the hill Jonathan and Emily both put their hands through my arms as we walked along. As they are 12 and 16 I regard this as something of a miracle. Mark Twain famously said:

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

It’s a real privilege to know that they both think that being around their old dad isn’t too bad after all.

Beyond the bowling green we decided to explore a new path alongside the stream. It was so pretty as the dappled light of the lowering sun shining through the trees.

We took the camera and each experimented with different scenes and views as we went along.

The plan was to walk up around the village and then back down to the village shop where they serve some of the best locally made ice-cream around. Unfortunately the shop was closed and we were left feeling just a little cheated. We had no option but to drive off to the local garage and buy a manufactured ice-cream instead. Sitting in the car scoffing isn’t the same as meandering along with a proper cone in your hand.

We finished our walk as we started it – hand-in-hand.

The touch of a hand is a very powerful thing, something very reassuring, very safe.

The touch of Jesus hand was very powerful indeed. One day he went to the house of a ruler who’s daughter had just died:

When Jesus entered the ruler’s house and saw the flute players and the noisy crowd, he said, “Go away. The girl is not dead but asleep.” But they laughed at him. After the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took the girl by the hand, and she got up. News of this spread through all that region.

Matthew 9

There’s a gospel song that goes like this:

Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the water
Put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea
Take a look at yourself
And you can look at others differently
Put your hand in the hand of the man from Galilee

What safer place could there be.

This evening after I had finished work I went downstairs and noticed that it had stopped raining. I like to breathe in the fresh air after rain so I went out into the garden armed with a pair of scissors.

One of the things that we grow in our garden nearly every year are sweet peas. I don’t really grow them for their looks, I grow them for their scent, their looks are a bonus. Because of this years strange weather they have taken a bit to get going so this was only the second bunch I had cut.

Armed with my catch I came back into the kitchen picking up a vase in the utility room I placed them on the window ledge, stopping along the way to let Sue have a smell. They were lovely.

Just now I walked back into the kitchen and the whole room is filled with their fragrance.

Something about sweet peas means that they belong in the kitchen or in the dining room, I’m not sure why, but that’s where I always put them.

There’s a saying that goes around that smell is the thing that helps us remember the most:

Nothing is more memorable than a smell.  One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town.  Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years.  Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once.  A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth.  Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

The smell of a certain sun-cream reminds me of holidays in Florida. It was very hot and we used loads of it.

The sent of a certain shampoo brand reminds me of cruising in the Bahamas. We had to shower every day before going to the grand dining hall for Dinner.

Johnson’s Baby Oil reminds me of bath time with my children when they were younger.

The odour of soil reminds me of days digging at the family allotment as a child.

The smell of incense takes me to a friends wedding where so much of was used that I felt ill, if I remember correctly Sue was pregnant at the time and really struggled.

Conversely, the thought of Bovril brings a rather unpleasant taste to my mouth because someone once left a cup in an open plan office while they were off work. It started to ferment and it took days to find where the terrible smell had come from. We still had to work.

The Bible tells of an occasion not long before Jesus when Mary took an expensive jar of perfume and anointed Jesus with it.

Then Mary took a twelve-ounce jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard, and she anointed Jesus’ feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance.

John 12

Nard was used as a burial incense – without knowing it Mary was signaling that the time for Jesus death was coming close.

I wonder what thought came to those who were present on that day, in that room full of fragrance,  years later when they smelled that sent again.

I’m amazed that I haven’t written this one before now. Actually, if truth be known, I thought I had, but searching through it looks like I haven’t.

A few quotations to start with:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

     Amazing Grace, John Newton

“Grace…
It’s a name for a girl
It’s also a thought that, changed the world”

     Grace, U2

“Grace is given to heal the spiritually sick, not to decorate spiritual heroes”

     Martin Luther

“God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.”

     The Serenity Prayer, Reinhold Niebuhr

“a. the freely given, unmerited favour and love of God.

     Dictionary.com

For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

     John 1:17

There are a myriad of books too – “What’s so Amazing about grace?“, “Amazing Grace“, “God’s Lavish Grace“, “The Grace Awakening“. Search Amazon and there are over 3,000 books in the “Religion and Spirituality” section.

I could go on – but I won’t. I just wanted to make the point that Grace is huge.

In many ways Grace is a meta-blessing, it’s beyond a blessing, it’s above a blessing. Many of the blessing that I talk about are only possible because of Grace. It is “the freely given, unmerited favour and love of God”, I receive from God favour and love that I have not merited, I have not earned and I do not deserve.

I don’t really write these posts to try and debate huge philosophical issues, I try to write from personal experience. I know that I can’t stand before God and say – “give me this because I deserve it!” – I don’t deserve it, any of it. I don’t have to look far into my life to realise that I deserve God’s contempt, but He doesn’t treat me with contempt, He treats me with love and favour.

As I look back through the previous “blessings” that I have written so many of them stories of Grace.

The fresh life that I experience comes as a gift of Grace.

Special messages from loved ones are a gift of Grace.

When I realise that things aren’t as bad as they first seemed it’s a gift of Grace.

I look around me and see all sorts of things that I don’t deserve, I am so privileged – what more can I say. I’ll leave you with some words that are thousands of years old, but just as relevant today:

May God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ give you grace and peace.

1 Corinthians 1:3