Glory!

Glory!

March - the month when a hare, normally a shy reclusive animal, comes out into the open in search of a mate and will fight off any rival in what looks like a boxing match!  Hence the saying "mad as a March hare".  To celebrate the beginning of spring I want to share this wonderful painting of a hare by the 16th century German artist, Albrecht Durer.  Its exquisite detail lets us think that we could reach out today and stroke its fur and whiskers (if it let us!) - and yet the painting dates back to 1502, almost 500 years ago! 

 I'm publishing this, my March post, a day early - on 29 February, the date which occurs only once every four years. Starting from 1940, that makes it my 21st Leap Year Day.  Maybe I should be having a party to celebrate this special occasion!  However, it is about another special experience that I want to write today...  I'm calling it 'Glory!'

It happened on Good Friday, the year after the death of my dear husband, Bob.  Our son Michael, aged 15, was going on a school trip to Greece, so, as his two older sisters both had jobs, I was free to go off by myself.

I had decided that it was time to go back to Germany to refresh my German conversational vocabulary.  But where exactly would I go?  The country was still divided into East and West, so it had to be a town in West Germany.  Having already spent time in Hanover in the north and Freiburg in the south, I wanted to choose somewhere in between.

  On the map I caught sight of Fulda and remembered reading that it had a special 'feel' about it.  That would do!  I booked into a hotel there - but as I knew nobody in the town I had to think of how to find someone to chat with.  I wrote to the town's tourist office, asking to be put in touch with a local pastor, who then referred me to a lady in his congregation.  Christel had sent me a friendly letter, inviting me to supper at her home on the evening of my arrival by train from Frankfurt.

So, when I boarded the Prestwick - Frankfurt plane that morning I was full of excitement - and mixed emotions.  This was the first time that I had travelled alone, after twenty-three years of married life. Now, as a widow, I was heading into the completely unknown - in more ways than one.

Moreover, I was very nervous about being in an aeroplane!  My only previous experience had been as a child in a ten-minute "joy ride" in a tiny plane from Prestwick Airport over Ayr Bay.  I had been terrified out of my wits!  Now I was praying "Please, God, bless this flight.  Keep us all safe, and please give me courage, so that I don't panic!"  Trembling, I fastened my seat belt and waited nervously for the plane to rev up and start moving.  With a roar of the engine it gathered speed - and then came lift-off!  To my astonishment, I suddenly felt full of joyous elation, wanting to jump up, wave my arms in the air and shout "YES!"

Now my window seat no longer felt scary.  Instead, I was fascinated by my new view of Ayrshire from above, trying to identify each town and village before we quickly left them behind.  Up we soared into the clouds, then rose right above them, where to my delight there was blue sky and sunshine.  Marvellous!

Sometimes the clouds were like wispy white cotton wool, then grey cumulus ones would appear, indicating rainfall below.  As we flew on above the clouds, I turned my attention to my maps of Frankfurt and Fulda and to Christel's letter, thinking of the challenges ahead. Closing my eyes, I silently asked God for help. 

When I opened  my eyes again I glanced out of the window - then stared in wonder at an awesome sight!  On a cumulus cloud some distance away there appeared the black shadow of our plane as it moved along, completely surrounded by a circular rainbow.  How beautiful, how amazing, how comforting!

Later I learned that this is known as 'pilot's glory', although it was first reported many years before air travel by mountaineers who had been standing high enough up to look down on clouds, with the sun behind them.  If you have never been lucky enough to see it, you can find it in photographs and videos online.  As you can see, I am no artist, but have tried drawing it, to give you an idea of what it is like.

Of course there were, that day, many other people on the plane, half of whom were sitting on the opposite side and were therefore completely unaware of this awesome sight.  And even those sitting on the same side as myself might not notice it, or if they did, might just dismiss it as a not-uncommon optical phenomenon, caused by sunlight interacting with the tiny water droplets that compose clouds.

But for me on that particular day it came as a blessing, a symbol of God's love and grace, surrounding me wherever I was destined to go in my new life ahead.  Over the thirty-two years since then I have travelled many times by air but have never again caught a glimpse of the beautiful rainbow circle with the shadow of the plane in its centre.

Rather than as "pilot's glory" I prefer to think of it gratefully as "God's Glory", reminding me of God's loving care which silently surrounds each of us, whether or not we are aware of it.

'For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the GLORY.  Amen'

Deo gratias

Happy New Month!

1st February 2020

Happy New Month!

(Snow on Arran.  Photographer: Bill Sibbald)

(This is a new arrangement.  Last year, in 2019, I managed to produce a new blog post more or less every week. In 2020 I hope to post a new one at the beginning of each month.)

So, New Month, New Year, New Decade - and, of course, New Political Situation!  As from 11pm last night, the UK is no longer part of the European Union.  Being one of those who voted to remain, I feel sad and frustrated.  But as there is, alas, nothing I can do to change the situation, I will turn my thoughts instead to two blessings of which I am reminded today.

This happens to be our daughter Sally's birthday, and so I remember the overwhelming joy which Bob and I felt at the birth of our first child!  The second blessing came at a time of terrible sorrow and despair when I had been desperately praying for help.  But before I write about that, back to this week's news!

Photographs have appeared online and in the newspapers of our MEPs in Brussels,  both Brexiteers and Remainers, holding hands as they sang our Ayrshire poet Robert Burns' words in Auld Lang Syne, ending with 'We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet for auld lang syne'

(for old time's sake).  Well, that remains to be seen!

That song and many others, plus favourite poems, will doubtless have been performed recently at hundreds of traditional Burns Suppers throughout the world, as we have celebrated the birthday of Robert ("Rabbie") Burns.  But this year, 2020, has seen a new kind if celebration:  Burns on the Beach!  Photos have appeared in our local newspapers of this family event on Ayr beach on the evening of January 25th.  Hundreds of people followed the lit-up path to a big bonfire, round which they gathered to listen to the life story of Burns, some of his poems and Scottish music played by a band.  

At a time like this when there is so much depressing news, it is good to see people out enjoying themselves together.  But I can't help laughing in bewilderment at the way in which  this new event ended: the burning of Rabbie's effigy!  After the recitation of his poems about love and social equality, this seems a particularly philistine thing to do!  But hey-ho!  Maybe some witty events manager came up with the idea of transferring the thrill of cold November's Guy Fawkes Night into a cold January's jolly celebration, culminating in the moment when the poet's effigy is set alight - and Rabbie Burns!

On clear days from Ayr beach - and indeed from all along the Ayrshire coastline - there are lovely views of the island of Arran, which is often referred to as 'Scotland in miniature'.  This is because of the impressive mountains in the north of the island, like those in the north of mainland Scotland.  Arran's highest mountain, recognisable by its pointed top, is called Goatfell.  I can, on a clear day, see Goatfell from the road in front of my house in Prestwick, and am always delighted when in winter it is covered in snow, or on a summer evening, silhouetted by the setting sun.

  Such beauty!  Yet Burns never mentioned Arran in a single one of his many poems.  Perhaps it is because most of his life was spent on farmland  several miles inland from the seashore?  Or maybe he was shortsighted!  Whatever the reason, I suspect that Burns on the Beach is actually a misnomer!

Over the years I have spent many happy hours on Arran, sometimes on daytrips by ferry from Ardrossan, sometimes staying for a few peaceful days of relaxation.  It was on Arran that I received the special blessing to which I have already referred today.  The background was as follows:  Bob's cancer had reached the terminal stage.  With the future so uncertain, we forced ourselves to think only of the present, living one day at a time - sometimes, in the midst of yet another emergency, only one minute at a time.  I depended completely on 'prayer power' to give me enough strength to support the two of us and our three children.

That October, in a brief period of remission, Bob urged me to take advantage of the unusually fine weather and go off on my own for a couple of days' rest on Arran.  Early in the morning of my departure I was amazed to hear loud calls from an owl on a neighbour's roof.  In all the twenty-one years in our family home I had never seen nor heard an owl so close - so this added a special feel to that morning!

The Brodick-Arran ferry was delayed for half an hour while it was being refuelled, but I didn't mind at all as I relaxed on the upper deck, idly watching the traffic come on board.  I noticed two large floats loaded with hay for the Arran animals beside a very large supermarket van full of food for the Arran people.  

After leaving my overnight bag at my hotel, I wandered along Brodick's main street and was delighted to see a little porcelain owl in a shop window.  I bought it as a reminder of the unusual beginning to this precious time of relaxation!  The next morning, after a good night's sleep, I set off to walk from Brodick to Lamlash. The weather was sunny and warm, with a clear blue sky, gorgeous autumn colours, and cheerful red berries on many trees.

Just as I was leaving Brodick I noticed a small new cemetery, with fresh flowers on several of the six gravestones.  I went in to read the inscriptions, then climbed a little farther up the grassy slope and turned to look back, glad to feel the warmth of the sun behind me.  Noticing that my shadow was pointing to the distant peak of Goatfell, I felt a sudden urge to take a photograph.  I positioned myself so that my shadow would be in direct alignment with the mountain top.  As I moved, my shadow seemed to emphasise that I was the only person still alive in that little place.

Suddenly, just as I clicked the shutter, a wonderful coincidence occurred!   Two things happened simultaneously:  I felt impressed upon me the words: "While you still have a shadow, feed my sheep"  and then, with perfect timing, a large float piled high with hay (i.e. animal food) went past on the road outside.  Fortunately the float appeared in the photo.  Years later, when I recounted this life-changing event in the last chapter of my book Joyful Witness, my illustrator, Ronnie Russell, was able to copy it.

The 'instructions' I received on that blessed golden day on Arran are still precious to me.  I understood them to mean 'While you still have life and breath, help other people.'  Trying to put this into practice helped me to support Bob through the final stages of his illness, and then to face widowhood after his death eight months later.

Thanks be to God.

Update!  Coincidence!  Yesterday, just after I had started to write about Arran and Goatfell, I discovered, to my great amusement, this photograph in the previous day's (Glasgow) Herald newspaper - a seagull perched on the very top of Goatfell with, in the distance, Brodick and Holy Isle in Lamlash Bay!