Day 83: Just Blue

Absolutely amazing.  28th of February, 83 days into my 90 day challenge which I started in the midst of a blizzarding snowstorm, and the sky is so blue you could fall into it.  Definitely the changeable blue which could turn into that snowstorm at any time (this is Scotland after all), but I just loved the way my window warms up the sunshine as it streams into my office, and landed on my arm and face as though I were somewhere tropical for a moment or two.  I had to get out in it (partly for the beautiful blue sky and partly because of my blog!), so off I went to the post office and various errands. 

Today I noticed a few different smells more than sights - on the way to the post office I distinctly smelled fish and chips (unsurprisingly), but as I passed the two I noticed they definitely had vinegar on them, as well.  It was very strong.  After I came out of the post office (about six days later) there was the distinct tang of a wood fire on the air. I stood and smelled it, being immediately transported to my parents' cabin, complete with fir trees and juniper pine and crackling wood fires and russian tea and book-reading by firelight and long walks and the noisy silence of the woods....and then with a snap someone swore and a car swerved and a girl laughed shrilly and I was right back in Airdrie again!

And then home, while the blue of the sky fades into a pale blue, then an almost-green, then a light orange, then a cream, then nothing.

Day 82: Which Prodigal Are You?

Another day of rest.  I pretty much spent the entire day listening to sermons and reading books and articles about the Story of the Prodigal Son.  What really struck me this time around was the elder brother. I really believe that parable is mislabeled.  It should be called the Story of the Two Prodigal Sons.  Everyone connects with the rebellion of the younger brother very quickly, because it is obvious and open.  But the rebellion of the elder brother is so subtle because he appears to have all the boxes ticked - and yet that's the whole problem.  When his younger brother comes home, is forgiven, and a party is thrown, the elder brother's response is anger, bitterness, accusations, and self-righteousness.  "All these years I have slaved for you," he tells his father.  His deepest problem is that he sees his father as a slave-driver, and whereas the younger brother asked out front, boldly, for the inheritance money, the elder brother decides to get it by trickery. He can't wait for his father to die, either...he just pretends to be the good guy and yet is only serving for the 'stuff' that he will get in the end.

It really struck me afresh, on this day of rest, that going to worship and prayer meeting and Bible classes and visiting housebound and attending events and spending time with the young people and all of these things are completely useless if they are done without the heart, without love.  God the Father is not one who requires a list of 'to-do' items before He loves us.  For those of us who are His children, who are following Him and serving Him, He loves already! His response to the elder brother is so gracious: "Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours."  He could have justifiably berated the elder brother, but he doesn't - because the father loves both his sons.  Forgiveness, and welcome, and a great big party, are open to both of them.

Interestingly enough the story leaves us hanging. No happy ending where the elder brother goes into the party and greets his younger brother with tears of reconciliation.  I kind of like that.  It leaves it open to be your story, my story.  Which brother are we?  And where will we go from here?  Either way - older or younger brother - God the Father shows great compassion and love, and our service to Him is out of love.  It is out of love that I do go to many of these events with the church...but they are not for the church.  They are for God, who is throwing a pretty amazing party for me and all His children one day!  Can't wait!

Here's the first sermon I watched on the elder brother - an excellent one.  Enjoy!


Religion and 'Older Brothers' - Luke 15 from Airdrie RPC on Vimeo.

Day 81: Drumpelier Park

The sun was shining cheerfully today!  Working from home with the warm sun streaming in through my window, I wished I could be out walking in it.  Fortunately Pin and I finished with enough time to spare before the sun went down (and it's going down later these days - past six while I'm writing this and just now getting dark! summer is coming!), so we leaped into Otis (who was raring to go) and zoomed off to nearby Drumpelier Park.

It had all the beauties we desired, and all the funny things you expect at a park.  We ooohed and ahhhhed at the sun sparkling off the waters, the swans and ducks gathering round to eat prohibited bread ("NO FEEDING THE BIRDS"), the bright green colour of the grass, the dark blue-grey of the waters with the wind making little rippling effects.  And we laughed at the guy who passed us, cycling, about five times whilst we only made it round twice (by the fifth time we were becoming best of friends); the little boy determinedly rolling up the legs of his trousers to wade in, and his mother just as determinedly rolling them back down; the little girl with a red hat and big eyes, staring around at everything in wonder; the couple arguing between themselves as they passed; and Pin's squeaky trainers that sounded like little ducks following us as we walked along.  She tried all kinds of things to get them to stop - walking faster, walking slower, walking on one foot, hopping left, hopping right, spinning around in circles, walking backwards, and finally leaping into a mud puddle in case water would assist.  I was expecting someone to smile and say how kind it was for me to take this clearly special person out for her daily walk. :)

We really enjoyed it.  It's such a pleasure to be out in the sunshine and the fresh air, not even noticing the weather so much as all the surroundings and the joy of walking and talking and covering deep things and unimportant things alike.  I do love my sister.  It's one of the things I miss so much by  having moved here to Scotland from America - just the little things of going for a walk with someone who knows you as well as (sometimes better than) your own self, and doesn't let you away with any of your excuses or fears.  (We were talking about a lot of those as we walked along.)  So I treasure it. 

Afterwards we stopped by Tescos 'to buy a paint brush' and came out with triple sec, mushrooms, vegetables for soup, grocery-style-takeaway for dinner, bananas, a sketchbook, soup, and pasta.  We had to go buy the paint brush separately after we had finished.  Classic!

Now my little Tesco takeaway is done, and I am off to eat it, and watch Harry Potter with my sister! 

Walk on!

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 80: The Darkening Day

The day felt quite mild as I set off tonight.  Didn't even need a scarf, or hat, or gloves.  But it turned out to be one of those days in which the cold settles itself in during my walk - gives a cheery, friendly, not quite warm but less than cold impression at the start, and then (rubbing its cold winds together briskly) begins to add slight freezes until my ears are quite numb by the end!

Still, I enjoyed it.  The sky darkened from a light blue grey to a darker shade; a corner of the sky peeped blue but was quickly squelched; the sunset attempted an orange glow but was similarly rebuffed.  Not in an angry way - it was as though the sky was a bit too busy for all that bother.  "None of this now, we're getting on towards evening and you've lost your chance," it seemed to say.  Things were done efficiently, swiftly tonight, and my 40 minute walk sped by before I even really realised it.  I tried a new path today - I'd actually taken this one before, but it appears that the council has decided new paths and new fences are in order, so there were some changes to view and all in all I enjoyed more fields and greenery than I normally might.  Then I walked through a few streets to get back to my own, seeing a friend standing in a doorway and greeting him; passing by several knots of small children who had too little to do and too much time; glancing in to the little corner shops where I was peered at suspiciously from inside; and being passed by several young boys who were hurrying along just because they could.

And now back to a warm home and dinner!

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 79: This Is The Point

Today was another "I don't really feel much like going a walk" day.  Exactly the point of having a blog and a challenge like this!  So I set out at night, with the wind and the rain in my face, the street-lamps shining on the trees covered in raindrops, and took at least a most basic walk in the area around my flat.  I am coming to love the feeling of winning against the elements.  So far, in almost 80 days, my favourite walk was the one in Helensburgh, where the wind and rain was so fierce and so powerful that I had to concentrate on each step, and in many ways felt miserable and cold and wretched.  But all of that combined with my fighting it out anyway, and I've learned that I love the fight.  To sit inside with a cup of tea and a warm duvet and the wind howling outside is nice; but far nicer still is having that feeling after having wrestled with that wind, after being pelted by that rain, and not being daunted.

Walk on!

Walk length:  15 minutes

Day 78: Be At Rest

"If you look at the world, you'll be distressed.
If you look within, you'll be depressed.
But if you look at Christ, you'll be at rest."
    - Corrie ten Boom

There is only one thing for this day, and it is rest.  We worshiped, we sang, we slept, we laughed, we listened, we rest.

Day 77: Riding Upon The Storm

"God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform. 

He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

and rides upon the storm."  

-William Cowper

A walk in any weather points the mind and heart to the Creator of that weather, and of my surroundings.  Today was even more the case, firstly because we were at a conference hearing talks on 'Loving God'.  Might sound a very basic, simplistic title - but as we were reminded, it's useless doing anything else in life without that foundation.  So Pin and I sallied forth into the wind and explored some of the town of Arbroath, and its nearby cliffs, while great waves of water flung themselves at each other, the sea walls, passing walkers, fishermen, and anything they could get their hands on.

We dandered around the harbour, and I wished not for the first time that I could take a still photo of a sound.  The tips of the sailboats made a tinkling, clinking sound as they rattled off each other, the boats rocking in the water.  It was like a multitude of heavy boating bells.  We stood and listened for a few minutes, and then wandered on between coils of rope and colourful cages that have some purpose in fishing, and arrived at a small bridge, at the end of which two fishermen were standing in oil slickers and staring at the sea wall.  There were vast quantities of water on the ground, but I wasn't quite sure what they were waiting for.  I mentioned casually that one of them appeared to be well soaked, and he grinned.

"At least I've got my rods," he said, pointing, and I saw indeed two fishing rods leaning against the bridge.  It was then I looked up, past a set of steps to a high barricaded spot, ideal for fishing, with two rods standing alone and aloof.  A few seconds later one of the most  massive waves I've seen hurled itself over the top of the sea wall, entirely engulfing the barricaded spot, the rods, the steps, and everything that would have been standing in its way.  I see now why the one fisherman was soaked.  The other, not yet soaked, couldn't quite time the raging sea in order to run up and get his rods back.  The sea wall was so high you couldn't see over it, and running up the steps to peer over could whisk a strong man away to sea (rods and all).  I was actually surprised to see the rods still there on their own.  We watched for a while, and a man with his small son stood with us, the small boy running up to the edge of the bridge and then running back.  Then we wandered away, leaving the fishermen to await the calming of the sea.

The power and might and rage within this stormy sea reminded me of a great story.  A small boat, out in the middle of the sea.  Twelve men, exhausted from the day's labours, beginning to notice signs of unrest in the sea itself.  The wind, picking up.  The waves, rising beyond expectation and quickly starting to swamp the sailing vessel.  And a man, their captain and leader, sound asleep in the bottom of the boat.  They know that help is at hand, there in the sleeping man, but these twelve men, some of them hardened fishermen, are fearing for their lives.  The boat will be swamped.  They will all be flung into that angry, stormy, furious sea - and swept to who knows where.  How is sleep even possible?  So after shouted consultation, brief but effective, several of them rush down.  There is shaking, there is shouting.  "Master, we perish!"  "Save us!"  And the man gets up, stands at the edge of the rocking, toiling boat, and says a few words to the sea, a few words to the wind.  "Peace. Be still."  And there was a great calm - so quiet suddenly that the twelve men are beyond amazed, suddenly terrified of the man they had rushed to waken.  "Who is this that commands the winds and the waves, and they obey Him?"  And the man, Jesus, looks thoughtfully on His twelve disciples.  "How is it that you are fearful?" He asks.  "Where is your faith?"

That story may be an 'old favourite', but thinking of it as I stand before a twenty or thirty foot sea wall that every moment is completely engulfed by raging salt water, seeing the unpredictability of it, two hardened fishermen completely helpless to even grasp their fishing rods, it is made a little more real to me.  Jesus has the power to calm the raging waves.  He rides upon the storm.

We walked on, round the edge of the sea and up to the top of the cliff, then back round, idly watching a football game in progress and a man throwing a ball to his dog.  Then it was to the Sugar and Spice tea shop for hot tea, something called 'Chocolate Violet' which I enjoyed immensely, and, of course, fish and chips.  Pin says that you can't be soaked with salt water and desire to eat anything other than fish.

I wonder how our fishermen are faring with their rods.

Walk length:  1.5 hours

Day 76: In The Dark And Windy Night

Tonight we drove up to Arbroath for a youth weekend.  You never know what the weather will be like, and the electronic road signs proclaimed "HEAVY SNOW FORECAST ON SATURDAY".  There were cheers in the car (we are all snow fans) but it was not to be.  We did have fierce winds and sharp cold, but I hadn't taken my walk for the day by the time we got up there, so Pin and I put on everything we had and sallied forth to walk along the edge of the sea.  It was very dark, so all I remember is a roaring sea and a big building and a dark road, but the point is we took the walk!

The wind was roaring so loud you could hardly hear yourself speak, much less think.  Having recently watched Dead Poet's Society, I felt compelled to "sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world" - or just Arbroath.  I figured with the way the wind was howling, my yawp would get swallowed up and the Arbroath rooftops could slumber on peacefully.  So, I sounded it.  It was such fun I decided to have another go, standing on a bench (getting in "yawping stance"), but halfway through my yawp I was surprised to find the wind nearly flinging me off it!  I'm not exactly a feather in the wind, so I leaped down immediately and left the yawping for the night.  Pin was undaunted, and leaped up on the same bench, ensuring that her calves were pressed against the back of the bench for support.  Hilariously, this didn't help at all, and she nearly flipped over backwards!  I laughed, but the wind took it away and she never knew.  ;)

Walk length:  20-30 minutes (I thought 15; Pin thinks a half hour. I compromise.)

Day 75: Out Of The Mist (Edinburgh)

Today Pin and I took the train to Edinburgh.  It was the first time I've done so from Airdrie on the 'new line'.  We made it just in time and got settled for the journey, while I wrote my morning pages and Pin scribbled away in her little notebook.  After a few stops I glanced out the window and pointed out to Pin that the fog was coming in, as I've said before, not on little cat feet but on heavy tiger paws. It covered everything.  The dark ground contrasted with the white, misty sky (it feels strange to call it 'sky' when it's completely obscured, really); and the trees were just a vague suggestion rather than defined, stand-alone items.  It was the kind of fog that hangs around all day - not just an early morning mist that is whisked away and by the afternoon you're walking in bright sunshine and feeling like you're in a new country, but the deep, heavy fog that is weighed down by its troubles and wants to bring you down, too.

We resisted, though, and enjoyed thoroughly our walk through the gardens near Princes Street - eschewing the roads filled with businessmen and those intent on their purpose, harried-looking mothers with prams, giggling teenagers, and lost tourists.  We did run into two lost tourists who asked us in a slight accent how to get to the Castle.

"Well, it's right there," I said, pointing to what looked like to them, absolutely nothing.  "I assure you it is there, and the easiest way to get there is to walk to the next traffic lights, turn right, and wind your way up the road until the Castle is on your right."

They stared at me.  "But can't we just - " one of the girls gestured vaguely towards what I had proclaimed WAS a Castle, clearly doubting my word - "go up that way?"

I tried not to laugh.  "Well, you'd need good rock climbing equipment, and I'll tell you - there are many armies who tried it and weren't successful, so I wouldn't suggest it."

They just stared at me.

"Really, you're better going this way," I pointed, and explained again clearly which way to go. 

They thanked me, but I had the feeling that it was the kind of thanks that you give when you either don't believe or don't like the advice you've been given and decide you'll wait till the first person you asked is out of sight so you can go up to another and get a second opinion.

Pin and I carried on, enjoying the mist and the fog and the general lack of other human beings around - everything was so quiet and the world seemed stopped in time as we passed through the gardens.

Up close, water droplets sparkled on the trees; tiny buds are beginning to form, the hope of spring in miniature; and the colours were an odd combination of grey, silver, and green.  We came up the other end and found the Starbucks we were seeking, and as we did, I saw one of the lost tourists coming out.  (I recognised her by the leopard-print fake Ugg boots.)

"They decided to get a second opinion," I said sadly to Pin, shaking my head.

"Maybe they only needed coffee for the journey," she suggested hopefully.

We wish you the best, lost tourists!

Walk length: 45 minutes

Day 74: Westminster Divines

Every Wednesday, I (or Pin and I!) walk to the  minister's house to catch a lift to the MET in Glasgow.  MET stands for Mutual Encouragement Time, and it involves studying the Bible or principles from the Bible and applying them to our lives in a way that encourages us in life and faith.  I love the METs because the intention is to be encouraged.  There are no foolish questions.  Nobody has 'all the answers'.  There's a MET leader,  but his goal is not to lecture, but to tease out from the others what we think - even if we feel like we may be way off base.  In this MET, we're studying the Westminster Confession of Faith, a document written by the 'Westminster Divines', Godly men who studied the Bible and wrote out a summary of what it teaches.

This week was a lively discussion about one of the most debated (and by some, the most hated) doctrines of the Reformed faith: predestination.  To believe that God ordained everyone's future to heaven or hell is a very difficult thing for most people.  One of the main reasons is that we'd like to think the best of the human race.  To believe that everyone is basically good, it will all work out in the end, and you can live your life the way you want but at the end get up to heaven and 'sort it all out with the big Man', no matter who you are.  And, we'd all like to think we have some level of power - not just the freedom to decide what we will do, but the power to choose either the evil or good.

Well, it's a long and heavy discussion, and I do not attempt in the slightest to begin that discussion here, or to try to insult the world or anyone in it.  The Bible is a strange document, for it tells us truths about God that seem (to our little minds) to be mutually exclusive: but in God's case they are not.  For instance, how does He manage to  be a God of love and yet also be wholly just?  Is He 'fair' in the sense that we understand the word, giving everyone a 'chance'?  How are God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit three completely separate beings and yet one God?  It's enough to blow your mind - or perhaps cause you to give up in despair. 

But if I've learned anything as a Christian, it is, first, that there are some things about God that I (not being God, or infinite, or all-knowing, or having any of His amazing God-like characteristics) cannot in this life understand.  The second, that if when reading the Word something doesn't make sense, my first inclination is to presume that I haven't got it right.  (I'm usually correct in that assumption.)  And the third, which we talked about tonight, was that if anyone got the 'unfair' end of the deal, it was Jesus.  Lived a perfect life, never did anything wrong, was the ultimate in kindness and grace, saved people's lives, raised others from the dead, healed thousands from illnesses, taught wise words, obeyed all God's laws, and got killed for it.  Took on Himself the punishment that I, we, His people ought to have had.  So that we can live with Him forever.  Now that's 'unfair'.  Surely  we got the good end of the deal.

Walk length:  20 minutes

Day 73: Daily Disciplines

I made myself go out tonight.  I have been going straight from rising to setting and beyond today, and a bit weary in general.  So it was a short walk, but I was glad I did it.  There's something about a walk that freshens the mind, gives you that extra bit of energy, and clears the head a bit.  It also helps you feel accomplished.

Interesting how the little things can do that.  I was realising the other day just how many things I do daily that are disciplines - I very often don't feel like doing them, but the benefit is great.  My daily items include writing for 3 pages in the morning (writing anything, as per my creativity workshop book, The Artist's Way); going for a walk, any length; writing this blog; studying my Bible (I'm learning all that I can about rest from the Bible by journalling my way through it) - and that doesn't include the basics of food and work and the various things that come up.  Some days it overwhelms me, but I've learned that the best way to achieve anything is by doing small things day after day.  Taking a day out every month to do writing doesn't work at all.  Writing 3 pages every morning makes for a heck of a lot achieved without even realising it!

May you all press on in your own daily disciplines today.

Walk length:  15 minutes

Day 72: Confidence in Rest

Another Lord's Day, and another opportunity to get a real and proper rest.  To church in the morning, and then a good long rest including a several-hour-long nap, then back to church in the evening. 

One of the things I've come to really enjoy in the church I am in is singing from the Scottish metrical Psalter.  Sometimes it puts things in a new way, that make me see the familiar Bible verses just a little bit differently.

"O Thou that art the Lord of hosts,
That man is truly blest
Who by assured confidence
on Thee alone doth rest."   -Psalm 84.12

Enjoy your rest today.

Walk length: None! Guilt free!

Day 71: Sunny Saturday

Today was a pretty full day.  Decided to go look at a new car in case it was time to go for it...it's not.  Didn't like the Skoda Fabia that I test drove, so that was a success now that I know what I don't like!  Came back still feeling full of energy so I went a walk down the town with Audrey and Pin, searching for party items!  Saturday night was a surprise 18th birthday party for Josh, and it was a murder mystery theme so we all had fun things to get.  I was Patsy Cline, and being from Arizona I was well equipped with cowboy boots, denim skirt, checked shirt, etc., and all I needed was a big belt and a cowboy hat.  Audrey kindly furnished me the hat (genuine Oklahoma cowgirl hat), but I liked the white one I found in a shop better.  Sorry, Audrey. :)  All the photos I found of Patsy Cline had her wearing a white cowboy hat so I figured I'd better go as genuine as I could! At least my boots were originally purchased in Arizona, so you can't get more cowboy than that.

It was sunny out, though not exceptionally warm, and whilst we were in the first shop the rain came pelting down as though it had completely forgotten it was supposed to rain that day, and was making up for lost time.  Naturally, by the time we were done with that shop, it was well and truly over, and the skies were blue again.  (I think it figured that it was just too nice a day to keep raining like that - and perhaps all the people running around shouting in the rain was an incentive.  Try it next time and see.)  Once the shopping was done, so was I, so I went home to rest up before the big part-ay, and then the girls came over to help get us ready and in the party mood. 


The party was brilliant.  Everyone was dressed to the nines, and we got to hear Elvis singing and watch Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing, and listen to Dusty Springfield sing 'Son of A Preacher Man'.  Groucho played the keyboard, and there was a general atmosphere of joy and fun and laughter and hilarity. Best of all, the birthday boy was completely surprised, so that was a pretty impressive feat.  Roughly fifty people crowded into a small house and holding our breath until he walked in (with one pretty hilarious false alarm), everyone saying 'Shhhhhhhh!' in such loud whispers that I figured he would hear us from outside.

Then it was home again, home again, jiggety jig! 

Walk length:  25 minutes

Day 70: Boodle and Banter

Today I would like to introduce a guest writer.  My sister, Pin.  I am feeling kind of grumpy and tired, despite the great exercise I took to the Boodle Bar (and despite the little giraffe who visited me at my computer), so I shall hand over my electric pen to one who can speak when I can not.  Onward!

(Pin)
.....So since today was a do-nothing, grey cloudy skies (like ALWAYS) and generally bleah, we sat around chatting about various nothings and watching Notting Hill. (It didn't inspire us to walk up any hills, it was just inspiring that our Spirits climbed ye wayward paths. Meanwhile, our bodies were encouraged to lay about in our jammies.)  In any case, though we forced ourselves to walk to the Boodle Bar (which is called "Bar Noodle" by its owners, just until they realise that they named it wrong the first time), it was more of a stopgap than anything.

These days happen in the best of times - or the worst of times - you just get tired of doing the thing you did yesterday, and the day before. You wonder if it even matters. (You wonder if anyone reads or cares about your blog post.) You wonder, as you put on your clothes and they still are not as loose as you'd like, if this exercise thing was dreamed up by skinny California people intent on enslaving poor saps into 'eating healthy', when it doesn't matter if you eat oranges or fried pork for supper. 

I contemplated all these things as I went for my own forced walk; the tiny streets around Airdire are not known for their amazing beauty, nor for any charming countryside in which to get lost. As you could see from a former blog post, when you DO hit countryside (or a magic portal to another world!!), the sight is so amazing that you can't help but get lost. The fairies still roam these parts, unchallenged, unchecked - I'm convinced of it. Sometimes they pose as normal people in ugly scarves and uninspiring hairdos (since all hair must bow to the warmth of hats). Sometimes they hide behind trees and whisper wrong directions to you. (This happens frequently in my case.) There is dog poo in the streets, usually around Hogg Street. (True name!) If you get lost in a dead-end street, you can't just jump the neighbor's fence, you have to go all the way around, back from whence you came. So it takes commitment to plod on. And all those sports films that have the 2-minute spot of huffing and puffing by the brave athlete, the night shot of him/her in the rain (Rocky) or the snow (another Rocky) or late at night in the gym whilst everyone else is slacking (Cinderella Man) should actually be expanded to fill up most of the film. That's the reality - you do a mixture of big pushes and small spurts, because you are human, and because grace exists. At some points you have to 'beat your body into submission' (like the Apostle Paul), and the other days, you can rest in the knowledge that a small effort shows commitment as well as the large effort. 'Sufficient unto the day is the (walk) thereof.' :)

(From your new friend and walker, Pin)

Walk length (Karen): 15 minutes
Walk length (Pin): 45 minutes

Day 69: Belated Birthday Bash

Tonight was the repeat of the attempted birthday bash from last week. 

Thankfully, I was well enough to go, so we got dressed in our best party clothes and, after a wee domino cake presented by Megan at home (complete with a random tealight candle scavenged from the flat), we set off for the train station.

It's always enjoyable taking the train.

There are plenty of opportunities for banter, not least of which was the cool fish eye lens at the High Street Station. 

Pin and Megs are always good photo fun.  Mostly because neither of them like getting their photo taken, and both of them suffer with great grace the many photographic incidents I make them experience.  They smile on command, stand still when ordered, and (in this case) peer owl-eyed into mirrors if need be.  I do love them for that among many other things!

From High Street it was on to Maggie Mays, where we enjoyed a Scottish feast before heading downstairs to hear new gigs in the basement.  Pin had the haggis, neeps and tatties starter, which I helped her enjoy!, and I had venison stew for my main - and, of course, my favourite dessert known to the world, sticky toffee pudding.  "Is there no felicity in the world superior to this?"  (Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen)

Downstairs in the basement there were four bands playing, none of whom we'd heard before, all of whom we enjoyed.  They were The Foundry Men, UKreign, Selective Service, and Davey Horne.  I preferred, in order, number 1, 4, 2, then 3.  We all had differing opinions but overall truly enjoyed watching people in a place where the live music means that people's normal sixth sense of 'feeling' when someone is staring at them was totally gone, and so we could stare at people all we wanted.  I felt kind of invisible sometimes. 

We played the Celebrity Game, where you look around and figure out who looks either like a celebrity or friend, or vaguely like them.  For example, one guy standing all on his own looked very like Clint Eastwood, but was much shorter and thinner so we called him Clint Eastwood's dad.  We also saw the Jew's little brother and Matt Jess's cousin's second cousin.  (Long stories.)  Clint's dad had quite a pull, hooked up with a pretty hot girl, we were surprised he did so well.  Maybe it was the cheekbones.  We had comfy seats on the couches which we were loathe to part with, and Megs got hit on as she walked up the stairs to the toilet and back.  (I don't think he followed her into the toilets, but it sounded like he was interested in that option.)

It was much colder when we left at midnight and I was (as usual) very glad to get into my jammies and rest.

Walk length:  35 minutes

Day 68: Gothic City By Night

This post is a little belated.  I did the walk, but I have fallen back on my posting of the walks.  In a way that is very encouraging, because it means that my walking is becoming so much part of my day that I almost don't notice it! 

Tonight Pin and I walked to the minister's house for a lift to MET in Glasgow.  We stopped at the top of the hill to wait for the light, and I looked up to see rain falling down in the light of the street lamps.  Pin noted that it looked a bit like Gothic city, so I asked her who she wanted to be, Batman or Robin.  She chose Robin, the faithful sidekick. 

Fly on!

Walk length: 20 minutes

Day 67: The Paul Newman

My sister and I have started to come up with some codes to save energy when the same thing comes up again and again.  We have a code for when I start getting grumpy and should just stop talking (I'm not going to tell you what it is, or you might use it against me and make me grumpier!), and one for when I'm too weary to talk about anything but don't want to have to explain that, and this morning as I set off for a walk by myself I created a new one, for when I want to go for a walk by myself as opposed to having company.  That  kind of walk is the Paul Newman walk - it is in solitary.  If you're not familiar with the film The Great Escape, perhaps Chicken Run?  Both excellent films (in their own way), but I'd suggest sitting back with a cup of green tea (or your choice of hot drink) and cosy up to watch the Great Escape tonight.  And then you will know.

So I set off for a Paul Newman this morning, and after walking a familiar path, set off on a brand new one, with no idea where it led.  Those are fun.  And a little tempting to be worrying sometimes, because who knows where I will end up, but I have learned that it is not cheating to whip out my iphone and discover where I am using the maps app, so that I don't wander around in circles and arrive home completely exhausted (as Pin and I did last week!). 

It was slightly icy out today - a brisk wind, but I had no hat and was comfortable enough with just scarf, coat, and gloves.  The ground felt like it had been frozen, and was very slowly unthawing.  There were edges of ice on all the bodies of water (tiny ones and larger ones), and interesting concentric circles, icy crusts, and ice shards everywhere.  I did wish for my wellies a few times, but made it without completely ruining my favourite brown boots, and really enjoyed the peace and opportunity to think.  I quite like having a chat with the Lord as I walk, or just thinking about nothing at all.

A flock of tiny birds rose up and flurried around ahead of me; several dog-walkers passed me with nods of agreement (translation: 'Yes, we are both wise to be out, regardless of the weather; I salute you'); two men were building fences around what is now labelled as a community park scheme; another man passed these and said "they're building fences round us now!"; and before me the road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began....


Walk on!

Walk length: 1.5 hours

Day 66: Blow The [Me] Down

Today we were in Thornton Cleveleys, and nearly blown into the next town by the powerful winds.  We were in a meeting all day, protected from the wind and wildness, but I went out for my walk at lunchtime and it was one of those where you bow your head and push your way through the invisible barrier in order to take a few steps, and then after a while you turn around and nearly fly your way back, feet barely touching the ground.  The wind goes from being your sworn enemy to suddenly being your ally and friend, your support and help and everything you need to get where you're going.

Reminds me of a sermon I heard by John Piper regarding Romans 8, which proclaims the truth that God turns the most difficult and hard things to good for the Christian.  John Piper says, "When we risk for the cause of God and meet the enemy of affliction with the weapons of faith, the enemy is not just defeated, it is captured and made to serve the eternal good of the Christian warrior."  So God not only defeats the enemy so that it cannot triumph anymore, He goes beyond.  He says to it, Now that you are defeated, I want you to get down there, and serve their faith! 

Press on!

Walk length: 10 minutes

Day 65: Rest From The Din O' Natur'

Today we stood still, and rested, and saw great beauty in it.

"The din o' natur' never troubles the guid thouchts in ye...But this noise tumultuous o' human strife, this din o' iron shune an' iron wheels, this whurr and whuzz o' buyin' and sellin' an' gettin' gain - it disna help a body to their prayers."  - George MacDonald, The Marquis of Lossie

Day 64: Frodo and Sam and the Coniston Old Man

After an incredibly restful twelve hours of sleep, I rose luxuriously to a day with nothing particular to ‘attend’.  I did intend to take a long walk that day, but other than that it was lovely that time was not of the essence.  As long as we got our walk in before the light came down, we could do what we liked.  So we took our time having breakfast at our sturdy little brown table, and then I took a wander down to the information centre to pick up some suggested walk leaflets.  There were many, and we chose one that would wander “up hill and down dale” towards the Coniston Old Man, a nearby mountain that I suppose reminds one of an old man although due to the cloud and rain it was shrouded in mist and we didn’t see it looking like much of anything, unless it was a squat old man with a heavy white beard.   

The first half hour or so was on a winding road, with cars appearing every once in a while, driving with extreme care so as not to release the full force of the miniature, raging rivers on either side, on us as we walked along.  We appreciated their efforts, and I think we were making almost as good time as they were.  Several times I wondered if we were heading the right way, but we eventually made our way to a gate and a ‘public footpath’ that pointed the way up to the Coniston Old Man.  

It was raining, not heavily, but steadily.  The kind of rain that just goes on and on and on, getting colder and colder as you get wetter and wetter.  It is not mist and it is not a torrent, just water being deliberately emptied from the heavens in a continual stream that seems to have no end.  We started out with our spirits as light as our dry clothing, which predicted the later occurrence of our spirits becoming heavier as our clothing got wetter.  We made it about halfway up the mountain (perhaps further, but we may never know!) until we realised that even our clothes under our rain-jackets were soaked, and my gloves were retaining more water than heat.   

 

Stopping to eat our sandwiches was an effort in and of itself;  we tried unsuccessfully to hide behind large boulders for protection from the driving wind and rain.  After sitting hunched by the boulders eating cold sandwiches and drinking cold water, we emerged from our makeshift hideout to discover that the flatlands were less windy than the hillsides, boulder protection notwithstanding.  Pin pointed out that we were like the intrepid Covenanters, who crossed windy hills and rainy marshlands to worship God when all the local (comfortable and warm) churches were not preaching the Word of God.  We also felt a bit like Frodo and Sam, as my energy levels are lower than Pin’s, so she like Sam encouraged me with cheerful comments and offered to carry my backpack when my strength was failing.  “I can’t carry the ring, Mr Frodo,” said Pin as she strapped on the bag, “but I can carry you!”  She began walking and added, “Actually I don’t think I could carry you very well so I’m just glad to do what I can by carrying this backpack.”  She kept seeing views that reminded her of the Lord of the Rings films – high mountains and misty clouds and gnarled old trees and pouring rain and hidden caves.  We did come across a little cave at the side of a burn, and I tramped through in my wellies (my famous green welly boots that have seen me through so much wet Scottish – and now English – weathers) through the cold burn and thick red leaves to peer into the deep cave with water dripping from the top and sides – the kind of dripping that in very cold weather would become stalagmites in an icy cave.  We both peered in, Pin bravely following me into the rushing burn, but decided instead of sloshing through the cave to carry on up the hill.  

 

After we turned back and the path descended again, we kept our spirits up by locking arms and descending the mountain with cheer, remembering our cosy cottage and dry clothing and hot tea awaiting us.  It does help, when you are soaked to the skin and walking through endless cold rain and wind, to know that there is warmth to come.  We reminded ourselves that the Christian life can be like that – when it gets weary and difficult and cold and miserable, you walk on, remembering that there is warmth and comfort and hope to come.  I noted that the greater difficulty is that the path of the Christian life is ever upwards – whereas we had the option to stop going up and go right back down to the beginning – but oh, the views on the heights!

Walk on!

Walk length:  3 hours

Day 63: The Walkers Of Wildfell Hall

Today we drove down to the Lake District for the weekend.  I remember thinking about our upcoming weekend as I took my walk a few days earlier and it was raining, raining, raining.  I thought, ‘Lord, please let the weather be...’ and then paused, realising that I genuinely didn’t mind what the weather was.  Even if it rained all weekend, the point was to curl up in a nice cosy cottage after going for long walks (even in the rain), and so I finished my prayer by just saying, ‘Lord, you do what You like with the weather, I don’t mind.’  Of course He will do what He likes anyway with the weather, but it’s kind of nice to just agree with Him regardless and trust that even ‘rubbish’ weather will suit my best interests, too.  

So we drove through pouring, blinding rain the entire way down, and began the winding drive through the misty, red hills and fields of the Lake District.  Our cottage is in a little town (village?) called Coniston, and after driving round endless curves and spraying high waves of water on either side of my little red car, we finally turned the corner to ‘Bend or Bump Cottage’, tucked away behind the Sun Hotel.  (I think the name of the hotel is the only sun we may get this weekend...but as per my prayer that is perfectly fine!)  The cottage perfectly lives up to its name, and after several minutes of carefully backing into its tiny driveway, we emptied the contents of the little red car into the little low cottage, appropriately bending lest we bump.  

It is quiet here – so quiet I realise just  how much noise there is even in my quiet flat at home.  There are no cars driving by, no people walking by – just hills and trees and softly pattering rain that even makes no sound as it lands on the thick cottage roof.  The huge beams are the kind that look like they could build Her Majesty’s ships...solid and brown and lasting for centuries.  Pin and I played a card game, drank Russian Tea, and waited for our beef stew to simmer in the tiny oven.  After our hefty meal of beef stew with potatoes, fresh bread, sliced tomatoes, and tea (grand total cost: £2) we set forth in the darkness to walk around the village.  It was indeed darkness – pitch blackness that was illuminated in certain areas by houses and hotels.  The area directly in front of our door looked like nothing, but the next day we would discover mountains and hills and chickens and ferns spread liberally around.  

We turned left into the village, past the roaring river, full up with more water than usual and hurling itself over rocks and splashing up against the sides of the burn, over the bridge and past the Black Bull Inn and several other pubs of similar name and nature.  Everything was cosy and lit up, but we pressed on through the slight misty rain that slanted in but didn’t really bother us too much.  We went well prepared, and it didn’t even feel like it was raining, but at one point I looked over and Pin’s face was covered with water droplets.  I laughed, and pointed it out, and she said she didn’t mind as long as her mascara wasn’t running.  That made me really laugh, since Pin is probably the least makeup-worried female person I know, and in that misty rain with water all over, pretty much everything runs down the face, mascara included.  Pin pointed out big houses that looked spooky to her, one that reminded her of Wildfell Hall, and she imagined that we were tenants thereof, out for our evening constitutional in the deep darkness and slight spookiness.  I was glad to have a companion for my walk and so was she.

We carried on and went left here and right there and suddenly found ourselves right back at the beginning!  It surprised us immensely as we hadn’t intended to walk in a circle, so we went a little further and then turned back and came into a warm cottage with hot tea and biscuits and curled up on the couch to watch a film, at which point I promptly fell asleep and struggled up the small winding stairs to my comfortable bed and slept straight for twelve hours. 

Walk length:  40 minutes

Day 62: Birthday Rambles

Today is my birthday.  It started out very well - a long lie, good coffee, time to read the Word, chatting with Pin, a brightly coloured scarf from my sister....and then we set off on a nice, long walk.

Well, it started out nice and it certainly was long...but in the end we got pretty turned around and lost, and almost ended up in Coatbridge instead of back at the flat!  The wind howled and the rain pelted us and it was colder than I had been in a long, long time.

But as with all walks of this type, it certainly had character, and memories.

Now that I am warm and cosy and mostly recuperated, I remember: hearing the wind howl in the tops of the trees...laughing with Pin over something only we found funny...passing other walkers who looked at us strangely as though to say 'we know why WE are out in this horrible weather, but why are YOU?'...passing through a bridge that looked like a portal, and Pin insisted on stepping through it and seeming to be whisked away...Pin standing there with an arm and leg hanging out long after I took the photo...looking right and then left and being unsure which way to go, then going right, and then a few minutes later turning back round realising we should have gone left...doing this several times....talking about deep things....turning into cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac until Pin was ready to leap the fence....and finding an old, tarnished, burnt-out car that I insisted upon taking for a wee drive.


It was a good walk.  We went a lot longer than we expected, but now we know where those paths lead, and we are even more thankful for times of rest and refreshing.  We even decided to take a 'video' of our walk in the style of my grandfather, who sometimes had it on when he thought it was off, and vice versa, leading to some pretty funny remarks that he didn't think anyone would hear.  (Of course, for my grandfather, using the word 'darn' was equivalent to full scale swearing, which we kids thought was the funniest thing we'd ever heard.) 



Happy birthday to me, and I hope you enjoyed my day! Walk on!

Walk length: 2 hours

Day 61: Time To Think

"Is it too much to ask
I want a comfortable bed that won't hurt my back
Food to fill me up
And warm clothes and all that stuff
Pens that won't run out of ink
And cool quiet
And time to think...."
       -Mary Chapin Carpenter

Having someone else living in the flat with me is a new thing, and something I have to get re-used to.  I have people stay with me for short periods, but to have my sister living here for a month is new and different.  I love it, and we are having great times together already; but this afternoon I was reminded that one of the things I still need is cool quiet, and time to think. 

So this afternoon Pin did some writing and cleaning and bits and pieces, and I went out for a solitary walk.  The air was cold, and the wind blew around and threatened to cut through under my warm hat.  (But it couldn't.)  I wanted to go a really long walk, an hour or two, but after ten minutes or so realised that I am still a bit weary from being unwell earlier in the week, so turned aside and made it a shorter walk.  It's good to be able to do that - to recognise when it would be too much, and stop before it's too late.  Something I've been trying to get my mother to do for years! :) 

I walked past an area that over the winter was a winter wonderland of snow and sparkling ice and Christmas trees and all beauty, and now is simply brown, bare, wet, mudlands.  What is worse, it is being developed for (I believe) new houses.  It makes me a little sad.  Only a year or two ago I discovered this whole walking pathway that wound around through actual woods and grass and little mini lochs and natural beauty - and now they are ripping it up to build those cookie-cutter houses that all look the same and feel the same and do not make me marvel at anything except man's ability to take God's creation, rip it up, and build ugliness on top of it.  Of course, I live in a block of flats that did just that once...but I didn't know what it looked like then.  I remember talking with one of the older people in the church once, a lady who remembered what Gartlea looked like before all these houses and flats were built.  "We used to go sledding down that hill," she mused, and there was a long pause while she saw the place as it was in her mind, snow and hills and small children roaring with laughter as they careered all the way down the hill, nothing at the top and nothing at the bottom.  And now I park my car there and hundreds of people are squeezed into tiny little blocks all over it.  It does make you a little sad. 

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I haven't decided where I'm walking yet but am looking forward to a long birthday ramble!

Walk length: 30 minutes

Day 60: PiN!!

My sister Pin arrived from the States today!  In honour of her coming, the sky was blue and the air milder than the last few days.  I went out in my white coat and hat and was thankful that the weather had decided to perfectly match my chosen clothing.  Pin arrived with little difficulty, and great tiredness, but was revived by a trip to my new favourite tea shop, Brewhaha.  They make fresh sandwiches and excellent soup, which we tried out while blethering on and on with great laughter and joy.  I tried the 'silver needle rose white tea', which was incredible.  It was like drinking roses.  Pin said it was like drinking perfume, and made kind of a funny face, so I think she preferred her darjeeling or ceylon, I'm not sure which one she went for in the end.

Once we got back to my flat, I went back to work and Pin took a mini nap (from which I woke her up after an hour, having learned the hard way that the worst thing in the world for jet lag is to sleep longer than an hour upon arriving in the UK!), and whilst she slept the rain came down and the hail came down and the wind howled and I was pleased to be sitting inside at the computer and not caught in a hailstorm!  Pin, having just arrived from Arizona, was sorry to have missed it.  

We were going to take a walk later tonight, but I'm well beat.  I'm going to count our walk in Glasgow as my walk for the day - we did walk from the car round in circles to the tea shop (I got a little turned around), and back again - and get to my bed early.  For some reason I haven't been able to fall asleep until about 2am the last few nights, so I think it's all catching up to me!

Pin made me dinner (chicken enchilada soup with a few fun extras, and random bits and pieces from my fridge), and I gloated over all the fun things she brought me from the States.  Now she is off for her own walk of the day, and I am off to bed!

Walk length:  10 minutes