Word in the Hand

We are an impatient people. The Great Vigil Mass, meant to finish with the new day,  tends to start as soon as the sun begins to fade. So sometimes can be celebrated by the early end of the evening with hours until the turning of the day. This bright season means that the Mass will begin after 8.00pm. The brightness of the day suggests a starlit ending is promised. Much to look forward to. But first is the waiting, not a thing I am good at to be honest, I can meditate for hours....but waiting always brings out the 'what can I be doing?' in me. To-ing and fro-ing from church all day yesterday and now - stillness. At the Good Friday Service we were given Holy Communion reserved from Holy Thursday. As I received the host into my hands a thought came into my head 'What if this was all there is? What if, after this receiving of this Sacrament, there was no more?  What if the God mind changed? What if the Father had decided that Jesus has suffered enough? How...

A year and a week ago my mother died. It was a Friday, and in ways much like and unlike the Friday we have just experienced. As hard as it is to say it - my mum had chosen to die; her long term illness had kept her in hospital debilitated and on dialysis. She chose to come home; she chose to come off dialysis; there was only one outcome. She wanted to see her birthday and Mother's Day; the timing was hopeful but not guaranteed.  As it was - and I am not surprised by this -  she lived long enough to celebrate both special days and spent a few sunny and warm March weeks surrounded by her own mementos, flowers and cards with daily visits from friends and relatives. By the grace of God all four of us, her children, managed to get time from work; come from other countries and spend time together, taking our old familiar, family roles in the  home we had last lived in as teenagers.  The night she died we had sat around the bed talking and laughing. It was my...

First reading 2 Samuel 7:1-5,8-12,14,16  Once David had settled into his house and the Lord had given him rest from all the enemies surrounding him, the king said to the prophet Nathan, ‘Look, I am living in a house of cedar while the ark of God dwells in a tent.’ Nathan said to the king, ‘Go and do all that is in your mind, for the Lord is with you.’   But that very night the word of the Lord came to Nathan:   ‘Go and tell my servant David, “Thus the Lord speaks: Are you the man to build me a house to dwell in? I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, to be leader of my people Israel; I have been with you on all your expeditions; I have cut off all your enemies before you. I will give you fame as great as the fame of the greatest on earth. I will provide a place for my people Israel; I will plant them there and they shall dwell in that place and never be disturbed again; nor shall the wicked continue to oppress them as they did, in the...

Reflection on the Magnificat My soul proclaims its nearness to the Lord delighted and fulfilled. But my heart aches broken by the accusation of my own people shattered by stones of mistrust and judgment No angel's promise of comfort - rather  Life's pathway set out in shards of flint. A flinty gaze fills my eyes and they widen, seeking the future road staring into dark shadows; welcoming the desert heat that burns away the tears of hesitation before they fall -  They fall, regardless Each breath a tightening  a measured in and out  words said and unsaid considered, found wanting But not 'yes' Never 'yes'. For always - 'yes'. My heart aches with Love. With Love too much to be contained yet unrecognised. With Love that will lie in my arms bloody and helpless more than once. With Love that will live within me  and without me for more than Abraham; Forever. w...

wordinthehand2011

Complines Reading 1 Thessalonians 5:23  May the God of peace make you perfect and holy; and may you all be kept safe and blameless, spirit, soul and body, for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes Advent does not begin on the nearest Sunday to 30th November.  Sometimes, like a pregnancy, it makes itself known in imperceptable, internal movements. Movements that are sensed but not seen.  There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. (Martha Graham) The Advent journey is unique - it is a girl dreaming in the dark after the Angel has left; it is a man staring into the fire wondering if dreams can be believed; it is an older woman knowing that they can. It is whatever it needs to call you into the anticipation of waiting.   wordinthehand2011

We have had the strange experience of starting and ending the year with real winters- snow, ice and cold; weather warning and travel restrictions.   Last winter I had a series of blogs called godisnowhere - which translated to 'God is nowhere',  'God is now here' and, quirkier but relevant at the time, 'God I snow here'.  God certainly gets my attention with snow. Despite (in spite of) the inconvenience I love this weather; in this weather I know where I am or, rather, where I would wish to be.  This weather makes me wish for well wrapped up walks with muffled blanket silences and ice-sharp cracks of sound followed by warm and peace-filled conversation or  'feet up with a book' evenings. At least that is what I have been wishing for - but have not been getting.  The duty to work, the duty to shop, the duty to 'christmas' is weighing heavy - and heavier yet because, in this weather - it's just not right.  But duty has a way of g...

Magdalen Lament I am sick. Not the sick of an excited, shrieking, palm filled road Not the sick of what happens next? Not the sick of too much food, too much wine. Not the sick of too little sleep. This is the sick I felt lost in the market-place This is the sick I felt sold into slavery This is the sick I felt at a child born dead This is the sick I felt when the demons laughed and the men spat at me This is the sick of fear drenched, screaming desolation. He is gone. The one who knew me, The one who saved me, The one who loved me. Oily clouds draw a veil over the night sky Moon and stars refuse to look upon those That condemned the Brightest One. His light no longer in this world. Eclipsed by the blackness of men’s hearts, The blindness of their eyes, The shadows of their ambition. He is gone. But I have a star, Fallen from his mouth. A promise to return. I fear I misheard, A demon awakened at his going Taunts me with my loss. For where are the others? I have a star, And by its light...

A smattering is the idiosyncratic parlance of the Met office. A smattering of sharp, cold, ice white flakes dancing in the easterly wind ; a dusting of sparklingly bright crystals fallen from a heavy pink clouded sky; outlining the angles and convolutions of the landscape; catching the eye again –‘Look, look’. This was a sudden smattering, and, as such, has had a dramatic effect. The radio warns of hazardous driving conditions and recommends only necessary journeys, sports events are cancelled, shoppers with empty pockets, still suffering from the Christmas excess, decide it is a day for the fireside. God claims His Sabbath back as a day of rest. Later in the day only a hardy few regard a walk in the frozen countryside as a ‘rest’; and are favoured witnesses to a pageant of stark beauty – browlines of skeletal trees outlined against the hard china blue sky – a pictogram of ‘Winter’. Walking among the trees, the suffering is apparent; bark turned ashen grey, evergreen leaves tinged wit...