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