tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64858897976538074982024-03-23T10:14:32.120+00:00Our Golden NetworkAuthor of the book 'Joyful Witness', Kathleen Bates is now using this blog to share more startling coincidences which have confirmed her awareness of an unseen dimension. She hopes that readers - whether or not they have a religious faith - will be encouraged to reflect on similar incidents in their own life, and perhaps be moved to give thanks!Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-22851541672672141362021-02-06T10:39:00.000+00:002021-02-06T10:39:11.164+00:00Back in the Moment<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Back
in the Moment’<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Every morning before I get up, I read the new day’s page of
<i>The Upper Room</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A<i> </i>Bible quotation
is followed by a reader’s account of an occasion when those words had special
meaning for him/her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week an
Australian woman had chosen Luke 5: 1-11 because such vibrant reports of how
Jesus spoke to people can <i>‘</i>put us <i>back in the moment’</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She described a conversation with a friend
who intended to travel across Australia, as she had once done, to see a wonderful
display of wildflowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Talking with my
friend,” she wrote, “brought back some of the joy I had experienced. It put me<i>
back in the moment</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
immediately struck a chord with me, for I too had recently been “put <i>back in
the moment</i>” – a moment of joy!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Between my bed and the dressing table on which I keep my
Bible and <i>The Upper</i> <i>Room </i>there is a newspaper rack in which I
store books of current interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
Christmas, as I arranged my new books in it, I decided to place a tea towel on
top of them to keep them dust-free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
pulled one out from its drawer, <i>completely at random,</i> and was surprised
to see that it showed a map of Western Scotland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had forgotten its existence!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I carefully folded the cloth in two and
fitted it over the collection of new books.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC10YLyiPTNomA8VOVJwOuzdyPLpp_EOsg7mRilyK3jV0F3j9__jAanucfvioRTihx3dpJvXyiTuHRwss1Hvs8gaeUrQIovQcKePdjZ0Cd-Sy_GStYftZkOHTgeLWbi1qhrbgYxd4sPkSy/s5152/Western+Isles+dishcloth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC10YLyiPTNomA8VOVJwOuzdyPLpp_EOsg7mRilyK3jV0F3j9__jAanucfvioRTihx3dpJvXyiTuHRwss1Hvs8gaeUrQIovQcKePdjZ0Cd-Sy_GStYftZkOHTgeLWbi1qhrbgYxd4sPkSy/s320/Western+Isles+dishcloth.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That night, as I settled down in bed, I looked more closely
at the cloth map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, at the bottom
of the fold, was Iona beside the isle of Mull … and yes! … there was <i>Bunessan</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately I was “put back” to the amazing
moment of incredulous joy which Bob and I experienced there over 35 years ago,
and which has had a profound effect on me ever since.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Totally exhausted, physically, mentally and spiritually, we had decided
to make a little pilgrimage to Iona where (we had read) Heaven seems especially
close, in a mystical way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both teachers,
we had just finished our end-of-term reports; Bob’s frail mother needed
constant attention; our three children all needed ferrying to and fro – the two
girls to rehearsals for their school’s production of a Gilbert and Sullivan
operetta<i>, HMS Pinafore</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that
had been tiring – but also over us hung the perpetual dark cloud of Bob’s
recurrent bladder cancer, for which he had needed an operation every three
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our future was uncertain… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Before we left home, I prayed, “Please, God, give us your
support – <i>and make us</i> <i>aware of it</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please send us your Holy Spirit to guide us.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Using the Tourist Board’s Book-a-Bed-Ahead service, I had
booked our accommodation for the first night in Helensburgh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From there I would book a B&B for our
next stop, in Oban, then would ask someone at the Oban Tourist Board to help us
find a guest-house on Mull. (We knew that Iona was unlikely to have spare
places at such short notice.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only
place we knew of on Mull was Tobermory, but our Helensburgh host advised us to
try Bunessan, which is much nearer the Iona ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had never even heard the name of that
village!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Arriving on Mull, we decided to take the long way round the
island to Bunessan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had lunch in
Tobermory, where the main road stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thereafter it was a single-track road, with freely wandering sheep.
There were some scary moments when we were forced by an oncoming vehicle to
reverse to a passing-place on top of cliffs!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When at last we reached Bunessan, a policeman informed us that our
B&B was a mile out of the village, standing alone, overlooking Loch
Scridain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our host was waiting for us under a big bright golfing
umbrella beside the gate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He led us into
the guest bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed a framed
photograph on the bedside cabinet – and stopped in amazement!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It showed the cast of <i>HMS Pinafore</i>,
with our two daughters, Sally and Linda, smiling out at us!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The powerful effect of this ’coincidence’ was so
overwhelming that we could only stand there in awe and wonder, sensing the
presence of some invisible power that had led us to this place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The information that our host’s daughter had
spent the summer term at Ayr Academy teaching art did nothing to reduce our
amazement. It simply added one more element to the way in which we had been guided
to this experience, after complete strangers had found rooms for us in
guest-houses totally unknown to us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even today, all these years later, the memory of that
moment of astonished recognition still brings me strength and joy, renewing my
faith in the ever-present Holy Spirit, which Jesus promised would be our
Advocate and Comforter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How glad I am
that during this trying Covid-19 time of separation from loved ones, of grief,
anxiety and frightening statistics, I have that little cloth map, as a visible,
tangible reminder of God’s loving care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Coincidentally, beside my bed - just as that special photograph was!) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4KOCukkOJzlvFOzhg6d2xp2XY6N48rX1-Ts7FbPNeUpcxyUI8g5AP2MfJYzLydm3BFLjb_qzqy0Hm2p9UyQuomWvYlOH8cG_iqx76Ao8ZGFok2mBa_aeEFf8Er9-tyMycCZGl4U_Ym2y/s5152/Bedside+Bunessan%2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4KOCukkOJzlvFOzhg6d2xp2XY6N48rX1-Ts7FbPNeUpcxyUI8g5AP2MfJYzLydm3BFLjb_qzqy0Hm2p9UyQuomWvYlOH8cG_iqx76Ao8ZGFok2mBa_aeEFf8Er9-tyMycCZGl4U_Ym2y/s320/Bedside+Bunessan%2521.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />If <i>you</i> have a similar symbolic souvenir which puts
you <i>back in</i> <i>a moment of joy</i> when your faith was deepened, now is
the time to look it out again and ponder over it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember John Newton’s well-loved hymn which
begins:<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a
wretch like me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I once was lost, but now
am found, was blind, but now I see.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias<o:p></o:p></span></p>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-9575869882439782242020-12-31T15:06:00.001+00:002020-12-31T15:20:32.650+00:00Pass it on!<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Pass
it on!</span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Do you watch </span><i style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">The Repair Shop</i><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">In 2020, in the midst of all our worry,
frustration and grief, how lovely it has been to have this (pre-recorded) haven
which never fails to show us expertise, gratitude and joy!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The format is simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Each visitor brings a treasured possession in need of repair; an expert
craftsman/woman applies their expertise to “bring it back to life”; the visitor
is amazed and delighted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually, two or
more generations of the same family are involved: a grandparent and/or parent
for whom the item has had special significance, and who now who wishes to pass
it on to the next generation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The experts, too, often mention a previous family member
who taught them their particular skill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For example, the man who created two new wheels for a child’s miniature
vehicle told us that he had learned his craft from his father and grandfather,
both wheelmakers by trade.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thinking about this, I was reminded of a felt picture which
I once made, to hang on the back wall of my classroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The front and side walls were festooned with
posters of France and Germany, but I was well aware that not every pupil was
keen, or indeed <i>able</i>, to learn a foreign language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, the felt picture was there at the back to
encourage <i>me</i>, as I tried to convince my teenage pupils about the
importance of the Learning Process! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDLxSiVoECaZ_RWqFC49OZFweTh7GCR-f9AVW74uwJ1VM5vJQH1rroVXyh_A-VlF5onU7hkGicKkpdtNC-8ga5OafRfPCuPg9tsI_GVadrzFJSX6OsIjOMESM68pevhKlKlOt2UVGBJ-D/s5152/2020+May+26+previous+generations.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDLxSiVoECaZ_RWqFC49OZFweTh7GCR-f9AVW74uwJ1VM5vJQH1rroVXyh_A-VlF5onU7hkGicKkpdtNC-8ga5OafRfPCuPg9tsI_GVadrzFJSX6OsIjOMESM68pevhKlKlOt2UVGBJ-D/s320/2020+May+26+previous+generations.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The deep pink figure, standing with arms down, symbolises a
pupil of the current generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
paler pink figures on his/her left represent previous generations: from parent
all the way back to great-great-great grandparent - after which they fade into
the distant past (Half-figure in white).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In order to receive useful know-how which can be passed on to the next
generation (as yet unborn! – shown by the white half-figure on the right), the
pupil must raise his/her arms – that is, <i>make an effort</i> - to join and continue
the chain of knowledge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, I was delighted when pupils shared my love of
French and/or German and did well in their exams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I was also delighted when on Friday
afternoons members of my fourth-year non-certificate class took turns to tell
their classmates about a specific skill they had learned from older family
members.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember the pride of a boy
who loved fly fishing as he showed us the colourful artificial flies he had
made, and the determination of another, whose ambition was to become a farrier
for racehorses.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwkRHLhiU7VsAujHtk-PP0ScKtaT1QxGCozT1d68lDCJ5x6rSfNmNd4qAEhTTNG2NGxWkx1quK2HfDb5Xg9jeCOy_sJ350-isbywTI0h9YOoWkxV8WaAtkvgneFEZxK1pT4qd9N-U_oOu/" style="font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="433" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwkRHLhiU7VsAujHtk-PP0ScKtaT1QxGCozT1d68lDCJ5x6rSfNmNd4qAEhTTNG2NGxWkx1quK2HfDb5Xg9jeCOy_sJ350-isbywTI0h9YOoWkxV8WaAtkvgneFEZxK1pT4qd9N-U_oOu/" width="291" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In this photo of my Higher French class, you can see my
felt picture on the wall behind the pupils. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at this present time, what is far more
noticeable is the <i>closeness</i> of the youngsters – no facemasks and no
social distancing from one another or from the teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How very sorry I am that the present
generation – including my two grand-daughters at school and my younger grandson
at university – have had their education and social development disrupted by Covid-19
and their future prospects made less certain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What can a grandparent do to help?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing much, it would seem, in this
unprecedented situation – except stay at home in Lockdown!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But everyone of my age will have had to face
anxiety and heartbreak at some time or another, and will possibly remember and
pass on words of advice which <b>their</b> grandparents gave them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my family such advice was “<i>Just live
one day at a time</i>” and “<i>This too will pass</i>” and ‘<i>Cast all your
anxiety upon Him, for He cares for you</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, I realise that for many people faith in God is very
difficult, especially in view of all the present frightening statistics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the Good News is that <b><i>faith is</i></b>
<b><i>absolutely separate from all statistics</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>It is for <i>each</i> of us a <i>personal</i>
relationship with God, accessed by private prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If you look again at the photo of my pupils you will see a
quotation which I posted up there for my <i>own</i> benefit! – words which have
given me strength at very difficult times of anxiety, money worries, sorrow,
physical and mental exhaustion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
painted the letters in yellow on black paper, with the most important word in
white paint for emphasis.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The message on the poster is in French: <i>Ne crains pas; <b>crois</b>
seulement, </i>which<i> </i>means:<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t be afraid; only <b>have faith </b>-<b> </b></i>a quotation from
Luke’s Gospel, passed on from generation to generation for two thousand years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is what Jesus said to a distraught father
(Jairus) just before he brought his 12-year-old daughter back to life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now,
as we face the New Year, 2021, I pass it on to you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May God bless you and your loved ones.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><br /></span></p>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-24212690516445776172020-11-03T12:21:00.000+00:002020-11-03T12:28:51.837+00:00A new Circuit Board<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A new
Circuit Board<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqidVg8zo43CfKmdb7tyKv2jJRS-VdNxnrdSONe1OuWLhvsmzNz8Oy7Y5bLIqlrtXDzCUIEMvb_mYLQMBPDyRHBLDrHXgkL1Jyyd5iDpEsQITQn6Tg7_-TNFkfxuYkupmHzFeb6edtJgjU/s5152/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqidVg8zo43CfKmdb7tyKv2jJRS-VdNxnrdSONe1OuWLhvsmzNz8Oy7Y5bLIqlrtXDzCUIEMvb_mYLQMBPDyRHBLDrHXgkL1Jyyd5iDpEsQITQn6Tg7_-TNFkfxuYkupmHzFeb6edtJgjU/s320/IMG_0195.JPG" width="320" /></a></i></div><i><br /></i><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are many forms of work, but all of them,
in all people, are the work of the same God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In each of us the Spirit is manifested in one particular way for some
useful purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(1 Corinthians 12:6-7)<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What a kerfuffle!” I heard someone exclaim the other day,
and I chuckled with delight to hear that old Scottish word which my mother
would use when things were in a state of confusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, “kerfuffle” more or less described the
situation in my house this October!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Order has now been restored, I’m glad to say – but only after five
visits from four clever masked men…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It all started one morning when I woke up feeling cold and
realised that the central heating wasn’t working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On opening the front panel of the boiler, I
saw that the pressure arrow was away beyond the green section where it should
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying to remember the instructions,
I found the ‘tap’ down below and turned it 90 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within an hour the whole house was far too
hot – and now I couldn’t turn the heating off!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hurriedly looked up the phone number for Scottish Gas.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A young engineer- wearing a mask with a hairy fringe (he
had a beard!) - came promptly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I
stayed at a safe distance in the living room, he fixed the pressure and checked
that all was in good order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I could
relax!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, a few days later I was
somewhat alarmed when another masked man arrived unexpectedly at my door,
asking to come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a local
Scottish Gas inspector, come to check that the work had been properly carried
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hurriedly put on a mask and directed
him through the garage to the kitchen and back garden where he carried out another
thorough inspection.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The next masked stranger to arrive was a Hotpoint engineer
to solve the problem of my washing machine, which had mysteriously turned
On-Off, On-Off when I had tried to start the usual hot wash of towels. Once
again, I put on a mask and stayed safely in the living room while he tested the
machine. Ten minutes later he declared that he could find no fault, then
departed, leaving me relieved but very puzzled as the machine obediently filled
up with hot water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All was well!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But two days later I awoke once again to a cold house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No heating and no hot water!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could this be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the<i> meaning</i> of all this? I
wondered… <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In response to my
emergency phone call, another masked engineer arrived and studied the flashing
lights below the boiler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After twenty
minutes I was somewhat alarmed to hear him on his mobile phone, describing the
problem to the manufacturers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then
announced that a new circuit board was needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He didn’t have one in his van, but would return with a PCB (Printed
Circuit Board) next morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, I had never seen or even <i>heard</i> of a PCB, so I
quickly turned to Google for enlightenment!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There I read: <i>‘Printed Circuit Board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A PCB allows components to be correctly connected to a power source
while being safely insulated’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>The following morning, I
put on my mask, sanitised my hands and, somewhat nervously, went into the
kitchen to view this essential piece of equipment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How astonished I was when I saw it! – so
small, but very complex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he removed
the old one, the engineer pointed out the part which had burnt out, thus
causing the breakdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gasped in
astonishment when I saw how tiny it was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hardly any bigger than this capital M!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Less than the size of one of my pinkie nails!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was amazed to find that such a small part
could prevent the flow of energy from the source of power – resulting in the
huge difference between heat and cold, comfort and misery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As soon as the new circuit board was fitted, the central
heating started up and hot water was available again, almost immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Comfort had been restored!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How gratefully I thanked the engineer as he
left the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I relaxed with a cup
of coffee, I humbly thought of how indebted I was to him and to the other three
engineers who had recently come to my aid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How glad I was that they had the necessary knowledge and expertise on
subjects of which I knew next to<i> nothing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></i>Pondering on this, I realised how, during the whole of October, I
had been indebted to people who had specialist knowledge: the nurse who had
given me the flu jab, the garage mechanic who had given my car its annual
service, the pharmacist who had provided my medication, all the unknown IT
experts who had made it possible to connect with my family members via Zoom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thanked God for all those who, unlike
myself, had chosen to study ‘science subjects’ at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had followed my passion for languages,
music and writing, and had enjoyed my teaching career, but there are often
occasions when I feel totally ignorant!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_nfkvSTrCPNpVKFPMtUQk0ghvtYBpea0DAtlNTWnj1zH-P3JnvoA7skt2H4AGJuQYFtr2v3U5Mkx1kHfzAs4U5OcxJG1S0HTGYlPGZ2P_fW-vDM_p4L0liKqWgn1LLk6avNjp8miI3Oh/s5152/Two+booksIMG_0199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3864" data-original-width="5152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_nfkvSTrCPNpVKFPMtUQk0ghvtYBpea0DAtlNTWnj1zH-P3JnvoA7skt2H4AGJuQYFtr2v3U5Mkx1kHfzAs4U5OcxJG1S0HTGYlPGZ2P_fW-vDM_p4L0liKqWgn1LLk6avNjp8miI3Oh/s320/Two+booksIMG_0199.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Two books in my study sum up the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the hope of extending my knowledge, I
bought <i>Physics for Dummies</i>, but after only two pages I was groaning in
despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, familiarity with
algebra was needed, and I found the terms of reference, e.g. Vectors,
completely incomprehensible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave up!
– concluding that any hope of understanding the basics of modern technology
seemed to be blocked by my overriding sense of <i>wonder,</i> which belongs
more to pre-Industrial Revolution times that to the 21<sup>st</sup> century!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For example, I remember my amazement one afternoon on a
deserted beach on the island of Arran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wanting to take a photograph of my sister and nieces, I ran back to my
car to fetch my camera from the boot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Beside the camera my mobile phone was flashing, so I checked my
mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>‘Hoping you are having a lovely
time on Arran’ </i>said the message – from my son in Hong Kong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What!! How on earth had that come all the way
from Hong Kong into the boot of my car in such a lonely place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No amount of slow, patient scientific
explanation could have diminished my awe and wonder…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Which takes me to the other book: Marcus Borg’s <i>Days of
Awe and Wonder.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour after buying
it in Edinburgh, I started to read it on the bus home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only two pages into the first chapter <i>Listening
to the Spirit,</i> I found myself emitting soft clucks of agreement – like a
happy hen!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read, for example: ‘In
addition to the visible material world disclosed to us by ordinary sense
perception (and modern science) there is another level of reality, a second
world of nonmaterial reality, <i>charged with</i> <i>energy and power’</i> (my
italics)…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was immediately reminded of
the prayer which Jesus taught his disciples: <i>‘Thine is</i> <i>the</i> <i>kingdom,
the <b>power</b> and the glory’.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a great pity
that so many people don’t know these words, don’t want anything to do with the
Gospel (= Good News) and have no time for faith in God, so the powerful ‘circuit’
flow of God’s love and comfort is broken for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do any of these ‘circuit breakers’ sound
familiar?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Oh, I don’t have time for any of that at the weekend – I’m
too busy catching up with housework’./ I’m a scientist, so I don’t believe in
God./I’m actually a very practical person, so I only believe in things I can
see and touch/I used to have a Bible, but I’ve lost it./I need <i>facts </i>–
not any of that airy-fairy stuff./ For goodness sake, this is the 21<sup>st</sup>
century!/My parents used to force me to go to church, but I rebelled when I was
sixteen/ It isn’t cool to go to church or read the Bible – my pals would laugh
at me if I did/My Dad said they were all hypocrites, so we never went to
church/ Religions just cause wars, so they should all be banned.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To all of these pre-Covid views will certainly now be added
“<i>How can you possibly</i> <i>believe in a loving God, when the whole world
is in such a mess and every day we are bombarded with frightening statistics of
new cases of the virus and the mounting number of deaths?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, that’s where faith comes in!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good news is that each individual’s
relationship with God is on a <i>private, one-to-one basis</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s my advice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Switch off the radio, the TV and all your smart
devices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cast all newspapers aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Sorry – the following may sound ironic, even
cruel, to anyone who is self-isolating.) Find a quiet place to sit where you
are unlikely to be disturbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine
that you are about to make a very indignant phone call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then either silently or, preferably, out loud,
pour out all your anger, fear, grief, frustration and/or despair, until you can
say no more. If necessary, write them all down in a list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now add these words: “<i>Please, God, help me</i>”
OR “<i>Please God, <b>if you</b></i><b> <i>exist</i></b><i>, help me.</i>”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To ensure the ‘call’ is received, use the password, which
is <i>Thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Cast your mind back
to past ‘blessings’ for which you are still thankful, especially unexpected
ones at times of stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enjoy
remembering them for a minute or two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Repeat the password <i>Thank
you</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then quietly remain seated or
get up and go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Repeat this ‘phone call’
whenever you feel the need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this way
you are on the right line to receive <i>the peace of God which passes all
understanding</i> – a sign that your new circuit board is now connected to
God’s power source.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen
(= So be it)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will
find; knock, and the door will be opened</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfu_7YcWHPaMOPUAUf0drD6MeaLYOLTN5C1f4kOqh6x_RwijK3PwK8i2Fm44Wlzt4c8q5Kf1rT7th9GwiZkceLm7msomkV9BGEfr_nFksbFUa13hbkyRPS5bQOknVgokP67it-XS8tUnqz/s5152/second+flowering.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5152" data-original-width="3864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfu_7YcWHPaMOPUAUf0drD6MeaLYOLTN5C1f4kOqh6x_RwijK3PwK8i2Fm44Wlzt4c8q5Kf1rT7th9GwiZkceLm7msomkV9BGEfr_nFksbFUa13hbkyRPS5bQOknVgokP67it-XS8tUnqz/s320/second+flowering.JPG" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-17613189739801578162020-10-01T00:51:00.000+01:002020-10-01T00:51:08.313+01:00Michaelmas 2020<p style="text-align: center;"><b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Michaelmas 2020</span></b></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Last week I got a surprise. There in the flower bed just outside my back door were two little clumps of Michaelmas daisies, announcing the arrival of Autumn. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Can you see them on either side of the reeds? </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJjHdoxDconPMtgU2DPEAwoIlhi8siQa20MAIYH2yVZhTa4c7Ouyyl0wVl55KKSRocwN2hMsFtpYX_fwhlUT0sVBTRTbJP5EgeJQPFOsi5bAPKE9qQl72nswAfq0wYGPi14e3KaZDbznb/s1572/Michaelmas+daisies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJjHdoxDconPMtgU2DPEAwoIlhi8siQa20MAIYH2yVZhTa4c7Ouyyl0wVl55KKSRocwN2hMsFtpYX_fwhlUT0sVBTRTbJP5EgeJQPFOsi5bAPKE9qQl72nswAfq0wYGPi14e3KaZDbznb/s320/Michaelmas+daisies.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;">They are pale blue with pointed petals. I can't remember having planted them, but I do now recall that they have popped up in previous Septembers at this, their appointed time. Because of lockdown I was unable this year to pay my usual Spring visit to a garden centre for a selection of bright annual flowers to decorate this border. Instead, I let Nature take its course! When several large green weeds appeared I just left them alone - and was rewarded with bursts of daisy-like flowers. This cheerful unexpected display has made me more aware of the <i>wonder</i> of wild flowers.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GQCu7F-jzxU0xhqvqvC0AjFylOSpzMy8WZhPxW5323saJes_ziLkDGGUQrbtJxnn3dFdQ6nqFomQhfKNhwnbWX8aQQxwfOevDIVQIsheCvjVEK9wxxxUbkhzvtnPyBlnt9YjSO9i_tsb/s1558/Wild+garden%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8GQCu7F-jzxU0xhqvqvC0AjFylOSpzMy8WZhPxW5323saJes_ziLkDGGUQrbtJxnn3dFdQ6nqFomQhfKNhwnbWX8aQQxwfOevDIVQIsheCvjVEK9wxxxUbkhzvtnPyBlnt9YjSO9i_tsb/s320/Wild+garden%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />In August I remembered the delicate little blue harebells I had discovered in the nearby large open green space (formerly a golf course) the day after I came to live in Prestwick. Were they still there this August? I wondered. I took my camera and set off to look. Yes! Twenty-five years later, there they were, in several tufts of long grass.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3maoh02ZmYmXG_srK6zHEwcF4k3gF6MVCcN3Hbop52L8i6tjv_dQEZUctb0Lkk4M0Z45P0r8zKsVs3U8TDUbO0M-zNh1nwC-736iGqXJyGzIMTGexC6t6PyiefWb6N7fOl5mLBonAgnG/s1387/Harebells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3maoh02ZmYmXG_srK6zHEwcF4k3gF6MVCcN3Hbop52L8i6tjv_dQEZUctb0Lkk4M0Z45P0r8zKsVs3U8TDUbO0M-zNh1nwC-736iGqXJyGzIMTGexC6t6PyiefWb6N7fOl5mLBonAgnG/s320/Harebells.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Where did all the wild flowers come from originally? How easy it is just to say carelessly, "Oh, the wind must have blown the seed here". <i>But where did the seed itself come from originally? </i>There are so many thousands of flowers, of different colours, shapes and sizes, each set to bloom at a certain time of the year. How quick we are to accept them casually as a "given", without pausing in wonder to ask ourselves where they came from - and who was the "giver"! I love these words from Iris Murdoch: </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>People from a planet without any flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout the summer my quiet sunny back garden proved to be a safe place to chat with people (one at a time!) - such as my friend Muriel. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw5U1mk0muHoa_h9C06cFiCL55TwgGpwt5sBCUNZ4xJjLoeMmsLbTkc4R2tUtBxc4FhtVP1sH2BtFk3HaD_95uNydValhHbtXvZzWvETaaZzd6ix7hBIQTB-HsYL0Kpkwrbm-Q51PR6rc/s1660/Lovely+Lockdown+Lady%2521+Muriel%252873%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="1660" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw5U1mk0muHoa_h9C06cFiCL55TwgGpwt5sBCUNZ4xJjLoeMmsLbTkc4R2tUtBxc4FhtVP1sH2BtFk3HaD_95uNydValhHbtXvZzWvETaaZzd6ix7hBIQTB-HsYL0Kpkwrbm-Q51PR6rc/s320/Lovely+Lockdown+Lady%2521+Muriel%252873%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> At the beginning of September she told me that her church in Ayr was going to re-open for a Sunday morning service. The number of worshippers would be greatly reduced, but a recording of the service would be available online. I was delighted to find it on my Kindle, especially because this is the church where I attended Sunday School and sang in the Junior Choir, where Bob and I were married and where Sally, our first child, was baptised. How lovely to see the beautiful stained-glass windows again, and to hear the magnificent organ. In the late 1990s, after I retired, I came back here for organ lessons as part of a training scheme to enable pianists to play the hymns if the organist was indisposed. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Matthew, the present organist, and his wife Rachel, a professional singer, were leading the music at the online service. Unfortunately, because of the danger of spreading the virus, congregations are not allowed to sing the hymns out loud. However, as the words were being shown on a screen, Rachel</span><span style="font-size: large;"> sang each hymn in her lovely strong voice. Towards the end of the service she sang an extra hymn as a solo, i.e. the words were not displayed. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> I was immediately reminded of a strange Coincidence which had occurred on the very first day I saw Rachel and heard her sing.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was at an organ recital in Ayr Town Hall. For ten years there have been weekly Monday recitals there, from noon until 1pm. Organists come from all over the UK and even from Europe to play the Splendid Lewis organ. When it is Matthew's turn the recital is always very well attended. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On that particular occasion, the Town Hall clock had already struck noon when I parked my car in the carpark on the opposite side of the River Ayr. As I hurried towards the bridge, I looked at the river and saw that a big tree trunk had been brought downstream during the recent heavy rain. On top of it was perched a large bird. "Oh, there's a gannet", I thought - but then immediately corrected myself. "No, it's a cormorant, not a gannet." At that very moment a helicopter flew directly overhead,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> and simultaneously I heard a man say to his little son, who was sitting on his shoulders, " Oh, look! That's a helicopter from HMS Gannet!"</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I crossed the bridge, I was amused to think of the coincidental <i>gan</i>net (bird) and <i>Gan</i>net (helicopter) as I was on my way to an or<i>gan</i> recital! "It would just be like the thing if if the programme includes something with the letters GAN" I thought. But I couldn't recall any piece by Bach or any other organ composer which had GAN in the title.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Matthew had already begun his splendid performance when I arrived so, as quietly as possible, I slipped into the back row downstairs. Michael, the concert organiser, passed me his copy of the programme. I was surprised to see an unusual addition: a solo singer. I read that Matthew's wife Rachel, who is from Wales, was going to sing several items, beginning with a lullaby, <i>Suan GAN</i>, the words of which are set to a traditional Welsh melody <i>Yr Hun GAN!</i> I couldn't believe my eyes, and had to suppress a loud chortle! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">So that is why, as I watched the online church service, I felt the goose bumps rise again when Rachel began to sing her solo hymn, <i>Holy Spirit, gift bestower</i> - which is set to the tune of <i>Yr Hun GAN!</i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What is the significance of such coincidences? I don't know exactly where they come from, but I do know that for over fifty years they have become an integral part of my Christian faith. Every day as I say the Lord's Prayer, I pause on the words '<i>Thy will be done</i>', and at the end I often add (from Psalm 119:v 33) '<i>Just tell me what to do and I will do it, Lord.' </i> Many other people tell of feeling an insistent nudge to obey a new instruction. Their stories vary according to each person's individual nature. (Just as flowers vary greatly!) For me, coincidences often confirm a recent <i>Leitmotiv </i>- a recurrent theme which leads me to a new path in life's journey. This September, the theme has been the importance of hymn singing. So I'll finish with the first verse of the hymn Rachel sang:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Holy Spirit, gift bestower, breathe into our hearts today. Flowing water, dove that hovers, Holy Spirit, guide our way. Love inspirer, joy releaser, Spirit, take our fears away. Reconciler, peace restorer, move among us while we pray.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Amen</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-5542202782238279712020-08-31T19:30:00.000+01:002020-08-31T19:30:05.176+01:00Joyful Reconnection!<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Joyful
Reconnection!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spirit
of the living God, fall afresh on me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spring 2020 will long be remembered for the arrival of the
corona virus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly our lives all
took a strange frightening new turn as the pandemic started to spread
throughout the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because we were
forced to stay at home in ‘Lockdown’, our cars were left untouched outside our
homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is mine, as seen through the
blossom of the cherry tree directly opposite my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">But this photo reminds me that the spring of 2020 will also
be remembered for its </span><i style="font-size: 12pt;">beauty. </i><span style="font-size: 12pt;">During
those weeks of warm sunshine it was somehow reassuring to see that Nature was
carrying on as usual!</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Trees and shrubs
blossomed, flowers appeared at their given time, all obviously flourishing in
the unusually fine weather.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Above the
silent streets the birds flew busily to and fro, carrying twigs and moss for
their nests, or sat singing on rooftops, claiming their territory.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Never before had we been aware of such
wonderful birdsong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you look more closely at the photo of my car, you will
see the aerial standing out against the white garage door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those two – the aerial and the up-and-over
door – unfortunately had a violent collision last December.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because the weather had turned icy, I had put
the car in the garage, but forgot to unscrew the aerial from its base on the
car roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day, when I hurriedly
backed the car out, there was a loud crack!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The aerial was lying beside the damaged base.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I tried without success to screw it back
in, I realised that, alas! I would no longer have radio contact – so, no
Classic FM to keep me calm and happy when driving along busy roads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After examining the damage, my local garage owner told me
that unfortunately, in order to restore the radio connection, he would have to
take down part of the ceiling inside the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When he said that this would probably cost about £160, I sadly resigned
myself to the situation…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked out
some favourite CDs to accompany me as I drove, and laid the aerial inside the
car boot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In January, during a family “Mammycare” (!) weekend, Bex,
my daughter-in-law, took it back out and managed to fix it on to the car roof
again, but – unsurprisingly - there was still only silence when I tried to
switch on Classic FM or any other radio station.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then came Lockdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For over three months the car stood untouched in the driveway while I
self-isolated (because of my advanced age!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When at last I plucked up enough courage to drive to the local
supermarket, I chose a cheerful CD to encourage myself – but still regretted
the loss of Classic FM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That seemed yet
another loss in addition to the ones which had already resulted from Covid-19:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>no family reunions, no church services, no
coffee mornings with friends, no choir rehearsals, no playing the cello in the
church Praise Band or the piano for a local ladies’ choir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many precious parts of my life which had
given me a sense of identity and of purpose!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another favourite activity has been dog-walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my collie friend Tara moved to
Stirlingshire, I was delighted when I was asked to walk Mac, a West Highland
terrier, and Mindy, a labradoodle. For ten years I have enjoyed this lovely
form of exercise with these two doggy friends.</span></div>
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</span>But two weeks ago, their owner phoned me to say that they will shortly
be moving away from the district.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
yet another chapter has ended…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One morning last week, after my usual Bible reading and
prayer time, I felt a wave of depression sweep over me as I thought of all the
activities which had given me a sense of physical and mental wellbeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worst of all, I suddenly felt an unaccustomed
emptiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as if the spiritual
‘aerial’, which for over fifty years has connected me with the comforting
presence of God’s Holy Spirit, was no longer functioning, leaving me
desolate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I got out of bed, I remembered
these words from Psalm 51<i>:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Create a pure heart in me, O God, and give me a
new and steadfast spirit; do not drive me from thy presence or take thy holy
spirit from me; revive in me the joy of thy deliverance and grant me a willing
spirit to uplift me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I opened the bedroom curtains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My attention was immediately drawn to my car
in the driveway below, and specifically to the <i><b>aerial</b></i> on the roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Suddenly I was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>reminded of my shopping expedition a few
evenings before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I had waited
until Sainsbury’s would be quieter, I was already tired when I donned my
facemask and began pushing a trolley all round the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I had piled six bulging bags into
the car an hour later I was exhausted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In need of music to revive me for the homeward journey, I decided to
replace the current all-too-familiar CD with a new one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pressed the release button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my surprise I heard a lovely orchestral
piece and saw on the screen the words ‘Classic FM’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s odd!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m glad we’re reconnected,” I thought - but had to concentrate on my
driving, then, back home, on unpacking and storing all the groceries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, as I stared down at the aerial, it was as if the sun
had suddenly burst through the dark clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was full of a <i>belated</i> sense of joy and wonder!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>How could that</i> <i>possibly have
happened - that mysterious reconnection?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was ashamed that, preoccupied with practical problems, I had not
reacted with amazement and gratitude for this unexpected blessing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Still happily puzzled, I later asked a few friends if they
could think of an explanation. Comments ranged from “Divine providence!” to
“You must just have had a loose wire!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, maybe the latter is true in more ways than one!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But whatever the explanation, I am relieved
and very glad that my ‘inner aerial’ seems to be working again…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After another visit to Sainsbury’s, I gratefully switched
on Classic FM, and instantly recognised the opening bars of John Rutter’s
setting of <i>A Gaelic Blessing</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
years I have played this at the end of each rehearsal of the ladies’
choir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I sat in my car and joined in
singing the lovely words, which I hope will have meaning for you:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lord bless you and keep you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lord make his face to shine upon you, to
shine upon you, and be gracious unto you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon you and give you
peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-24319184401643248702020-07-31T08:00:00.000+01:002020-07-31T08:00:03.367+01:00Look for Comforting Coincidences!<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Look
for Comforting Coincidences!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sometimes I feel discouraged and feel my work’s
in vain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then the Holy Spirit
revives my soul again</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(African-American
Spiritual)<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsB14Skl6chehWeT9uHRMOZB8LancuO1_5dZDn-YrjrO2u9CV51bzsrVzbMj7u5nRY_m2Yu9L5PqPKPYzAqCfbjsz1xudlsaOXxeh_xAJoN3FqbrzH_-49qkKhm25s5Cu1g0rzuvZMBV5c/s1600/Two+doves+on+the+fence.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsB14Skl6chehWeT9uHRMOZB8LancuO1_5dZDn-YrjrO2u9CV51bzsrVzbMj7u5nRY_m2Yu9L5PqPKPYzAqCfbjsz1xudlsaOXxeh_xAJoN3FqbrzH_-49qkKhm25s5Cu1g0rzuvZMBV5c/s320/Two+doves+on+the+fence.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These two doves appear to be observing ‘social distancing’
in accordance with the present Government ruling!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Back in March I was not too worried about the strange new
situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I have lived on my
own for years, so self-isolation (because of my age) did not seem too daunting
a prospect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am fortunate enough to
have a comfortable house, a garden where I can happily potter about in the
sunshine, the means to order food online and – best of all, kind neighbours who
offered to buy any extra items I needed from the shops. One special couple have
even provided me with a hot roast dinner, plus a glass of wine, every Sunday
evening!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So yes, I have been truly
blessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, over these last four months my outlook has
gradually changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have become more
and more aware of the importance of social interaction, and the value of <i>conversation,
</i>which reinforces one’s sense of personal identity in the midst of the
struggle to create a new ‘normality’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Constantly bombarded with alarming news on radio, television and
newspapers, people like myself who live alone have tended to become more and
more inclined to stay at home, thus avoiding public places, including
shops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recently, when I jokingly told a
friend that I was beginning to feel like a tortoise, withdrawing farther and
farther into its shell, she agreed, saying, “Oh yes, that’s how I feel too –
only I think of myself as a snail!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Afraid of sinking into depression, I have prayed for
spiritual strength and inspiration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
last weekend I was greatly cheered by news of a special ‘coincidence’ which
reminded me that our ‘Golden Network’ is still very much in existence – an eternal
invisible source of connection, of wonder and of comfort. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is what happened…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Several friends and family members have birthdays in May,
June and July. This year, although sorry that I couldn’t shop for presents for
them, I managed to send vouchers or cheques to those in the UK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that left three French friends. If I
managed to make up parcels for them, these would have to be weighed at the Post
Office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since that is located in a local
pharmacy, I hesitated to risk going there, for fear of coughs and sneezes which
might spread the virus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For Marie I had found a suitable book via Amazon, and it
was now ready to send to Asnieres, near Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I was at a loss to know how to find presents for Pascal in Brittany,
and his three-year-old son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All three
birthdays had come and gone, and I was becoming more and more frustrated at
being unable to go shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, in
desperation, I decided to choose some items from my own ‘private
collection’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found four little <i>Mr
Men</i> books – two in French and two in English - which Pascal, his Papa,
could read to little Laouenan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now for
Pascal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the past I have sent him DVDs
with English subtitles, so I searched through my own DVD collection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I did so, it occurred to me that I was
about to send two presents to a family of three, which didn’t seem fair!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt that Pascal’s wife Soizic should be
included, although I didn’t know the date of her birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aware that Soizic doesn’t speak fluent English,
but knowing that she loves animals, I decided that the DVD about Lassie the
collie would ‘suit the bill’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Having assembled the presents, I now looked for a suitable
‘post-birthdays’ cards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
Pascal and Soizic I chose a card showing a bright butterfly on a flower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with my best wishes I added my sincere
apologies for the long delay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, with
my new facemask at the ready, I set off for the pharmacy/post office – my first
venture into a shop for over three months!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The parcel bound for Brittany arrived on 24 July.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Completely unknown to me, that was the sixth
anniversary of the death of Soizic’s mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After a long illness, she had died in their house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remembering that sad occasion, Pascal and
Soizic had taken Laouenan out for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On their return they found the parcel – and were amazed when they opened
it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The butterfly card</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At her mother’s funeral service, Soizic and
Pascal were surprised to see a beautiful butterfly resting for several minutes
on a friend who was sitting just in front of them, and even more surprised when
it appeared again at the reception afterwards, apparently determined to
stay!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its beauty and unusual behaviour
helped them to cope for the rest of that sad day, and ever since the sight of a
butterfly in their house has been a reminder and a comfort to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lassie, the collie dog</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I had no idea of the effect which my
choice of DVD would have!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a child,
Soizic loved the story of Lassie, and Pascal has often read it to Laouenan, who
also loves “Maman’s favourite book”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
they would all be able to watch the film together!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This two-fold surprise brought them great pleasure and
comfort at the end of the sad anniversary, Pascal told me in an email.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How to explain this timely arrival? – except
as another example of ‘<i>kairos</i>’ (God’s time), as opposed to ‘<i>chronos</i>’
(our familiar chronological time), used as a reminder of the golden network of
love which transcends both time and space.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Postscript:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
not the first ‘collie coincidence’ I have known in France!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For five years I used to walk a Border
collie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like Lassie, (a so-called ‘rough
collie’), Tara was descended from the shepherding breed of dogs which
originated in the border country between Scotland and England.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very intelligent, she was a great companion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here we are in a local park.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gErBg19OGrXSCZgR0t72ERzPfJFuvSc5EMMUX4VBI6dA0e22pi7saJYGBqawz45DItjXzpdvbiioadGhaX0mvgiOdRwVTrPgIn38G9MKJ0s1w6kFi-6fLuzhfmoD8FfScaSFyij3nwnr/s1600/Tara+and+Kathleen+at+Rozellle%252C+2007+001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1573" data-original-width="1182" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gErBg19OGrXSCZgR0t72ERzPfJFuvSc5EMMUX4VBI6dA0e22pi7saJYGBqawz45DItjXzpdvbiioadGhaX0mvgiOdRwVTrPgIn38G9MKJ0s1w6kFi-6fLuzhfmoD8FfScaSFyij3nwnr/s320/Tara+and+Kathleen+at+Rozellle%252C+2007+001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">So, I was very sad when she and her owner moved to another
part of Scotland.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">As souvenirs of our
friendship, I bought two identical ornaments of a collie at rest and gave one
to Nicola, Tara’s owner, on our last day together, 20</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"> September
2007.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbyYGttFiDgeOY6pg0Nmm_GqaXfSPARSMdGHgEYALUz5TqxyI7XLu6DOuHd4yadPY3C2CjWQYLLRf-Ku1jVt0UiUCSBYf1UOWFXzx7TbSHTRN9aTAKdP8yMBCuSHNWWeXc1LhP8Vi6UAE/s1600/20.09.07+Collie+ornament+for+Nicola+001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="374" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbyYGttFiDgeOY6pg0Nmm_GqaXfSPARSMdGHgEYALUz5TqxyI7XLu6DOuHd4yadPY3C2CjWQYLLRf-Ku1jVt0UiUCSBYf1UOWFXzx7TbSHTRN9aTAKdP8yMBCuSHNWWeXc1LhP8Vi6UAE/s320/20.09.07+Collie+ornament+for+Nicola+001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The very next day</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I
flew to France with a Town Twinning group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because my usual hosts in Le Pecq were away on holiday, one of their
neighbours had kindly offered me accommodation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As she showed me into my bedroom, she exclaimed, “Oh dear, I forgot to
take away that ornament from the windowsill!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll do that now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed out
loud when I saw what it was: a collie with her puppy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mgfDJ5B9l3pIiOUQHTCHYF6YmIV-FrkhXG9Hj2yx87US3W9svPPeaxY_j35blFZOndwjimUSfLUU_CntnAj4DuYBRtyjKHcNwAA4jgbMaBKVJoQgCpTa7bAH5bQv0Kq1PsyIlaZDdd2A/s1600/21.09.07+Sheila+with+collie+ornament%252C+Le+Pecq+001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="614" data-original-width="591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mgfDJ5B9l3pIiOUQHTCHYF6YmIV-FrkhXG9Hj2yx87US3W9svPPeaxY_j35blFZOndwjimUSfLUU_CntnAj4DuYBRtyjKHcNwAA4jgbMaBKVJoQgCpTa7bAH5bQv0Kq1PsyIlaZDdd2A/s320/21.09.07+Sheila+with+collie+ornament%252C+Le+Pecq+001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, another
coincidence which confirmed the end of a chapter in my life but which at the
same time, by its very strangeness, brought me a familiar sense of comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bless the LORD, my soul; bless his holy
name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bless the LORD, my soul, and
forget none of his benefits. </span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(Psalm 103, 1- 2)<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br />Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-4049518479455089692020-06-27T12:00:00.000+01:002020-06-27T12:00:03.979+01:00Who's calling?<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Who’s
Calling?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-ZOm9F_kSy2AXX1GT2E5kI_NzY3m36UHHnQj8LvHV22OVd0-aa-TAtldvYOlsExyM8gFtwV38ZFpCP_V1OuwRJqI4fQiCH0k14PaM4UKzII-hg5AKNATK1kbhuLoGd_XvAydfOGVcAnr/s1600/My+lady+in+the+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1600" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-ZOm9F_kSy2AXX1GT2E5kI_NzY3m36UHHnQj8LvHV22OVd0-aa-TAtldvYOlsExyM8gFtwV38ZFpCP_V1OuwRJqI4fQiCH0k14PaM4UKzII-hg5AKNATK1kbhuLoGd_XvAydfOGVcAnr/s320/My+lady+in+the+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then the Lord made answer:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Write down the vision, insert it on tablets,
ready for a herald to carry it with speed, for there is still a vision for the
appointed time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the destined hour it
will come in breathless haste, it will not fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it delays, </span></i><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">wait</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> for
it<i>; for when it comes will be no time to linger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>(Habakkuk
2)<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Like many other people in lockdown, I have been using the
extra time at home to do some spring cleaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One day at the beginning of this month, I was up in the attic<i> </i>when
I caught sight of a framed picture which, many years ago, I had hung on my
classroom wall, in the hope of inspiring my pupils – and myself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking that it would make a good topic for <i>Our
Golden Network,</i> I took a photo of the picture and transferred it to my
computer, ready to illustrate the text, which I had begun to compose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But somehow the words just wouldn’t come in
their usual flow, and so by the 18<sup>th</sup> of June I was feeling more and
more puzzled and frustrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nowadays I need a siesta in
the middle of the day to ‘recharge my batteries,’ so after my lunchtime snack I
took myself off to bed, hoping that a snooze would help me to think more
clearly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what happened next turned
out to be far from clear!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On getting up again, I checked my phone for missed
calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found that there had been one
from an unknown number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t begin
with 08, so wasn’t a company call, nor did it have a local code.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curious, I dialled the number - and the
following conversation ensued<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unknown Lady:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hello?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KB:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Erm, this is Kathleen, returning your call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UL:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Who are you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KB:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m Kathleen Bates, phoning from Prestwick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UL:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prestwick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s in Scotland!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KB:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have you ever been to Prestwick?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UL:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, yes…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember going there once on holiday in 1955, when I was 15.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KB (<i>after a quick
calculation!</i>):<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, so you’re about
the same age as me!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UL:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I’ll be 80 in July.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">KB:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My 80<sup>th</sup> birthday was last August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are you managing in this lockdown?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UL:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My daughter buys my shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she comes with it, we sit well apart in
the garden, or I sit in the living room while she stays in the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A very pleasant chat
followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I discovered that her name is
Pauline and that, like me, she is a widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her husband, Fred Beattie, who died 8 years ago, used to say that the
Beattie family originally belonged to Scotland – somewhere on the east side -
until his great-grandfather plus five brothers all came to Lancashire – why,
exactly, Fred didn’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps in
search of work?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or perhaps because of
the typhoid and cholera epidemics in the mid-19<sup>th</sup> century? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I asked if there was any
family connection with Beattie’s biscuit factory in Glasgow, where I lived
until the age of eight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember
enjoying the biscuits, and how I used to giggle when reciting a “naughty”
little rhyme – which I proceeded to repeat to Pauline - somewhat lowering the
tone of our talk, I’m afraid!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I wonder
if any of my contemporaries remember it?) <i>Beattie’s biscuits are the best,
In your stomach they digest, Pull the plug and they go west </i>(= get lost,
disappear<i>), Beattie’s biscuits are the best!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></i>As Pauline replied that she didn’t know,<i> </i>I promised to make
enquiries. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We went on to discuss the huge
adjustment we each had had to make as widows, especially when going on holiday
alone for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pauline had
gone back to Malta, where she and Fred had spent many happy hours. She made a
hotel booking for three weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But just
after arriving there she fell and broke her wrist and had to go to
hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, she didn’t tell her
son or daughter, not wanting to upset them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“They got a big shock when I
arrived at the airport and saw my arm in plaster!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, you know, a lot of people at the hotel
felt sorry for me, so they talked to me a lot and I didn’t feel alone for the
rest of my stay.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went on, “Fred and
I used to do everything together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
didn’t like to stay indoors in the afternoon, so we went for a walk every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking back now, I’m afraid that
that was a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have any
friends now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to have, but they
have died…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then she asked, “<i>Why did
you phone me?”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But I didn’t!” </span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
exclaimed<i>. </i>“I was just returning <i>your </i>call.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But how could I have known
your number?” she asked, perplexed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, how indeed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the delightful question!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another one to add to my large collection of
inexplicable happenings, including the mystery which I described in this year’s
January blog post<i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suddenly
realised that <b>this</b>, rather than the framed picture, should be my topic
for June!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Food for thought…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For who was really
calling?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which of the 80-year-old widows
living alone in lockdown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had it somehow
or other been <i>arranged</i> at an unseen spiritual level?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How easy it would be just to brush it all off
as unimportant, a mere case of ‘crossed wires.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But how did they become crossed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Could that, rather, have been a <i>means to an end</i>? A little,
much-needed source of company to lighten our day?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t pretend to have an answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only know that this unexpected contact
brought me joy by its completely <i>inexplicable </i>nature!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The last week of June is
always one of<i> </i>very mixed emotions for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year the 26<sup>th</sup> is the 33rd
anniversary of my beloved husband’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(33 is a number which always reminds me of Bob, as he was born in
1933.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then June 27<sup>th</sup> is
the (56<sup>th</sup>) anniversary of our wedding day, which I still remember
with great joy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years the copy of the Bible which Bob
gave me for my birthday in 1984 has been a source of great comfort and
peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I begin each day by reading the
passage recommended in my current <i>Upper Room</i> booklet, but end the day by
opening the Bible at random, often rediscovering precious marked passages which
have brought me strength in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>For example, in John’s Gospel (14), Jesus promised that after his death
he would send the Holy Spirit as advocate and comforter to everyone who obeyed
his two commandments: <i>to love God with all our heart, and our neighbours as
ourselves</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Matthew’s Gospel (5)
he said, <i>“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, I have been spiritually refreshed
by so many astonishing coincidences that I have come to think of them as signs
of the “<i>living water</i>” which (in John, 4) Jesus described as “<i>an inner
spring always welling up for eternal life</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, this month I am, once
more, full of gratitude for another lovely thought-provoking mystery, and can’t
help murmuring “Nice one, Holy Spirit!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By way of celebration I will end with this beautiful little prayer which
my friend Muriel taught me:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And now may the God of hope
fill us with joy and peace in believing, that we may abound in hope, in the
power of the Holy Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br />Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-17163280107793663802020-05-07T20:00:00.000+01:002020-05-07T20:00:07.285+01:00The Gorse is in Bloom!
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Gorse is in Bloom!</span></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyEMzhUQxmc3or248w3fJzRhfA7xLAbyWzOWARjtfl1r2CNZPKiKJWVvxPlOljkWronswUh4bas8ZTjd4xPeilDjBVVtIFTH1ekYCCuRwrZflRpfLGXnL-F-3jgiaq_AtHTKOppgUf4eZ/s1600/Gorse+in+bloom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEyEMzhUQxmc3or248w3fJzRhfA7xLAbyWzOWARjtfl1r2CNZPKiKJWVvxPlOljkWronswUh4bas8ZTjd4xPeilDjBVVtIFTH1ekYCCuRwrZflRpfLGXnL-F-3jgiaq_AtHTKOppgUf4eZ/s320/Gorse+in+bloom.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How comforting it is at this time of ‘lockdown’ that
Spring, unaffected by the coronavirus, has been following its usual pattern: in
April, the dawn chorus, beginning with the blackbird’s cheerful song, all the
busy nest-building in our gardens, daffodils and cherry blossom, and now, in
May, bluebells and bright yellow gorse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘<i>When
gorse is in bloom, kissing’s in season</i>!’ goes the old saying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But alas, that is not the case this year… </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that we have to
keep at a distance from one another, we have come to realise how precious is
the sense of touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can still <i>hear</i>
family and friends on our telephones and even <i>see</i> them on our computer
screens if we have access to Skype, Zoom, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But when on the telephone or online we can’t<i> smell</i> their
favourite perfume or after-shave lotion, and, above all, how sad and
frustrating it is not to be able to <i>touch</i> a loved one, shake a friend’s
hand, give them a hug, or place a sympathetic arm around their shoulder, for
fear of catching or spreading the virus. Now, when sending a text, email or
card, I end my message with ‘VH’ (Virtual Hug!) – but that is a poor substitute
for the real thing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And how agonising it
has been for the hundreds of grieving relatives banned from visiting a loved
one terminally ill in hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
of the last line of Wilfred Owen’s poem <i>Greater Love</i>, written in the
trenches during the First World War:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Weep,
you may weep, for you may </i>touch<i> them not.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the past few weeks, we have become aware of many
things which we may have taken for granted up until now:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the beauty of nature, the sound of birdsong,
our dependence on one another, the kindness of strangers, the bravery and
self-sacrifice of our health workers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But perhaps the most striking realisation has been that, in terms of the
danger of a pandemic, we humans are all <i>equally</i> at risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences of nationality, culture,
religion, sexuality, language, personality, all fade into the background when we
are faced with the matter of life versus death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We who were so proud of our scientific and technological “progress” over
the past century have suddenly experienced an unprecedented frightening feeling of
helplessness.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Somebody once said <i>“There are no atheists in a sinking
ship</i>”, meaning that at times of collective fear we instinctively turn to
prayer, reaching out for help from a power greater than our own, whether or not
we call it ‘God’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0VFt7RYkJiXh0sr3mLE1b9YpvFWnLAiWyjK5X6V8bZfSvn9W7YUtNz8ME_O_pNWECToV_hGKmm1QEInUbiTNz5g5PN7tpKpo-uG9R7uX2PqYfjyVjQBBCAmmrd2Fq10Yiaycg3Ji7PJw/s1600/PhotoScan+%252865%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1401" data-original-width="1600" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0VFt7RYkJiXh0sr3mLE1b9YpvFWnLAiWyjK5X6V8bZfSvn9W7YUtNz8ME_O_pNWECToV_hGKmm1QEInUbiTNz5g5PN7tpKpo-uG9R7uX2PqYfjyVjQBBCAmmrd2Fq10Yiaycg3Ji7PJw/s320/PhotoScan+%252865%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week my friend
Muriel told me that someone had sent her a cartoon in which the Devil said to
God “<i>I have closed hundreds of your churches</i>!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to which God replied “<i>But I have opened
thousands of new ones in people’s</i> <i>homes</i>!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This topic has turned up in several telephone conversations
with my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Norma recommended a
short service offered on YouTube by a local minister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve watched it three times and it’s made me feel so much better!” she
exclaimed enthusiastically. Mhari told me that she had enjoyed another local
(lady) minister’s helpful recorded talk which was available by dialling her
phone number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elizabeth recommended the
weekly Sunday worship programme on BBC Scotland’s <i>Reflections at the Quay</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week this featured not only favourite
hymns but also a representative of the Muslim faith who explained the purpose
of Ramadan, the month of fasting, which was about to start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He ended by sharing with us a beautiful
prayer to God (Allah).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I thought of that devout Muslim man two days later when,
throughout the United Kingdom, there was a one minute’s silence in honour of
all the health workers who have died as a result of the coronavirus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of them were Asian and possibly Muslim,
working alongside colleagues of other faiths (or none).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of them had caught the virus as,
regardless of their own safety, they tried to save their patients.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every Thursday at 8pm I stand at my front door and join my
neighbours in loud applause for our ‘NHS heroes’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many windows throughout Britain now display a
rainbow, often with ‘Thank you, NHS’ written below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My front window has this painting by
10-year-old Ella from next door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDTAS0d3hg4p7xbNBlrq_cLI_jYMmuZZ4sRFOdv5J-BpdLO5gSK1zKoy5h2gmqI8PEyfyZ9LcE4MyIVWrLlM_0W-sPoFapbW5QGhy8S3KkLkERUYJ5nlWGBnALeD_qJkxPLVFYhM7xc6d/s1600/Rainbow+pic+in+window.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDTAS0d3hg4p7xbNBlrq_cLI_jYMmuZZ4sRFOdv5J-BpdLO5gSK1zKoy5h2gmqI8PEyfyZ9LcE4MyIVWrLlM_0W-sPoFapbW5QGhy8S3KkLkERUYJ5nlWGBnALeD_qJkxPLVFYhM7xc6d/s320/Rainbow+pic+in+window.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
complete circle in rainbow colours with a plane in the middle shows a ‘pilot’s
glory’, visible when the sun casts the plane’s shadow down on to rainclouds
below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to think of this picture
as <i>symbolic</i>:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>its passengers and
crew are from many different backgrounds but they are all<i> equally</i>
surrounded by God’s love – whether or not they are aware of it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tomorrow (8 May) there will be another national
‘get-together’, albeit only on radio and TV because of lockdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will mark the 75<sup>th</sup> anniversary
of VE Day when the war (in Europe) finally came to an end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we commemorate that joyful day, we will
pay tribute to the heroes of that earlier generation who lost their lives as
they fought to defend our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
VE75 evening programme on BBC is to end with a rendition of the favourite
wartime song: Vera Lynn’s <i>We’ll meet again</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“There is no greater love than this, that a man should lay
down his life for his friends”, said Jesus on the night he gave himself up to
be crucified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, by his
resurrection, he showed that death is not the end… </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May all those who
have recently lost love ones find consolation.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know
when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day!</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-45691577597608622522020-04-10T15:30:00.000+01:002020-04-10T15:30:02.555+01:00The Saviour of the World<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Saviour of the World</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The above postcard shows a painting by El Greco(1541-1614) entitled <i>The Saviour of the World</i>. The risen Christ has his right hand raised in the traditional sign of blessing, while his left hand rests on a globe of the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the nine months in France when, aged twenty, I lived entirely alone, this postcard was precious to me. Unable to attend any place of worship, I put it up on the wall of my living room as a focus for my Christian faith.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why couldn't I go to church services in this little town? St Gilles-Croix-de-Vie is situated on the Atlantic coast, halfway between Nantes and La Rochelle, in the departement (region) known as the Vendee. It certainly had an attractive-looking church - but there was a snag!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After receiving the letter informing me of my appointment there as English language assistant, I had gone to my local library for information about the town - and discovered that it came under the heading of '<i>Undiscovered France</i>'! Not only was I ignorant about its location, but I also knew nothing of its history. (Now imagine someone from abroad arriving blithely in Northern Ireland, never having heard of 'The Troubles', and wondering why people seemed to be constantly asking which church they attended!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 1793, at the height of the French Revolution, the Revolutionary leaders in Paris created a completely new calendar, designed to remove all religious influences such as Christmas and Easter. All churches were to close and public worship was prohibited. Priests were forbidden to preach. The Vendee was a poor region, largely consisting of small farms and fishing villages - but the people were devoutly Catholic. In great indignation they set up a Counter-Revolutionary army, which at first fought successfully against the forces from Paris. But then came the dreadful ten months of 'La Terreur'(The Terror), when anyone suspected of being against the Revolution was put to death. (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">16,000 people were guillotined).Soldiers were sent to the Vendee with the command to slaughter everyone they met: men, women and children. Apparently some soldiers even boasted of wearing trousers made of Vendee skin...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually, in 1799, Napoleon Bonaparte, the new Emperor, restored freedom of religious worship. But it takes generations to forget and - perhaps forgive - such cruelty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Over the years new laws were set up concerning education. State schools were to be totally<b> secular</b>, open to pupils of all faiths and none, on condition that religious worship was a private affair at home. Catholic schools ('ecoles libres') were permitted but on condition that they shared the curriculum of the state schools (ecoles laiques). That meant that teachers in schools such as mine were not allowed to mention religion in the classroom, as I discovered to my astonishment just before Christmas. I had taken my Bible to a class of 13 year old boys, thinking that they would find it nice and easy to understand the English version of the Christmas story. Big Mistake! As soon as i opened the Bible there were whoops and triumphant(!) shouts of "Mais non, Mademoiselle! C'est interdit!" (Oh no, Miss! That's forbidden!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bearing in mind the 17th century religious wars in France after the Protestant Reformation, <i>before</i> the Revolution, I sensed that I would not be welcome in St Gilles church, so reluctantly I just had to do without Sunday worship in the company of other Christians. It was then that I realised how much my faith meant to me - hence the painting by (Catholic) El Greco on my living room wall!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How glad I was that Easter when I attended the Scottish Church in Paris and was able to join in singing this, my favourite Easter hymn:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a green hill far away</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without a city wall</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where the dear Lord was crucified,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Who died to save us all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We do not know, w</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">e cannot tell </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What pains he had to bear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But we believe it was for us</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He hung and suffered there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh dearly, dearly has he loved, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And we must love him too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And trust in his redeeming blood, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And try his works to do.</span></div>
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Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-66170534231586877972020-04-08T20:00:00.000+01:002020-04-08T20:00:13.495+01:00News from Jerusalem<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>As the time approached when he was to be taken up to heaven, he set his face resolutely towards Jerusalem.(Luke 9,v51)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two days ago I was about to leave the living room when, passing the TV, I was stopped in my tracks. A news item was being broadcast from Jerusalem. First came views of the empty streets and even of the Wailing Wall, totally deserted because of the present coronavirus pandemic.. Then the presenter announced that this is a holy week for all three faiths which lay claim to Jerusalem as a special holy place: Christian (Easter), Jewish (Passover) and Muslim(Laylat al-Bara'at, a holiday which celebrates the Night Journey, both physical and spiritual, which Muhammad made to Jerusalem.) Three religious leaders then appeared simultaneously on the screen, asking their followers to suspend all aggressive activity towards people of the other faiths, as we are all <i>equally </i>under threat from the virus.<i> </i> (How I hope that this 'cease-fire' will have a lasting effect - but, alas, can't be over-optimistic...)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, this is the place I had hoped to be tonight: my church - Kingcase Church in Prestwick. (The unusual cross with the lamb refers to John the Baptist's words "Behold the Lamb of God" when he saw Jesus approaching him to be baptised in the River Jordan. <i>John's Gospel 1, v 29</i>) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year Kingcase was to host the annual Holy Week services shared by all the Prestwick churches of various denominations: Presbyterian Church of Scotland, Episcopal, Roman Catholic and Evangelical. Tonight the vicar of St Ninian's Episcopal church was to preach. I had hoped to play for their ladies' choir, which includes members of Kingcase (Church of Scotland) and the Roman Catholic church. For several weeks we had practised our chosen piece - the North American spiritual <i>Were you there when they crucified my Lord?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the choir's last rehearsal Norma, my Roman Catholic friend, gave me some photographs taken at a wedding we sang at several years ago. Her brother Harry, a singing teacher and organist, had been asked to supply a choir for the event. Norma asked Julie, another St Ninian's choir member, and myself to join her in the alto section.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The wedding was very unusual. The bridal couple were lawyers from New York. The husband-to-be had family connections with Ayrshire, so they decided to have the wedding in Scotland, and employed a wedding organiser to find "a small church with a beautiful view of the surrounding countryside!" The organiser decided upon the R.C. chapel in Maybole, a little inland town south of Prestwick. The bride-to-be sent Harry a list of her chosen music, some of which she wanted us to sing upon her arrival for the ceremony. We were to sing while she and her bridesmaids stood listening in the porch before proceeding up the aisle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We began with Durufle's beautiful <i>Ubi caritas et amor Deus ibi est. (Wherever there is compassion and love, God is there).</i>You can listen to that on YouTube, sung by the choir of King's College.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I remember these words, thinking gratefully of all the many, many compassionate people risking their own health in order to help others: doctors, nurses and all other NHS workers, carers of the vulnerable, shop assistants, supermarket suppliers and deliverers. May God bless them and reward them for their loving care. Amen</span></div>
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Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-24074232811538564252020-04-01T20:00:00.000+01:002020-04-01T20:00:09.828+01:00The Green Flash
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hello again, dear reader!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Welcome to April and the lovely, comforting pleasures of Springtime – so
badly needed at this difficult time of the coronavirus pandemic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that you are well and safe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am especially glad to be able to contact you, after more
than a week without Broadband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody
seemed to be able to find what the problem was, despite all the patient,
gallant efforts of the friendly EE employees in Plymouth and Darlington to find
out why my new router kept on <i>flashing</i> yellow instead of remaining a steady
aqua blue!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem was finally
solved by Lindsay, the local Openreach engineer, when he discovered that I had
wonky fibre-optic ports in the<i> green</i> cabinet in nearby East Road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Have I got the correct technical terms?!)
Anyway, I am so grateful to be able to send you my new blog post<i>: The <b>Green</b>
Flash!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The question which my French friend Suzanne wrote above this photo seems relevant at this unexplored new time of the coronavirus: <i> </i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>'But what can I see on the horizon?'</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, nothing!" could be the answer at present! How strange it is not to be able to guess what lies ahead of us, nor follow our former daily routines, nor plan ahead for social gatherings, nor even know if we will safely survive this pandemic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suzanne had sent me several other photos, taken when she and her husband Raymond Claude spent a few days with me in Prestwick. She had attached this one to the back of the envelope. It was taken a few miles south of Prestwick, at the mouth of the River Doon where it meets the Firth of Clyde - a very popular spot for all kinds of birds, including families of swans and cygnets. As I have my back to the sea, I was probably gazing upstream, in search of the cygnets, the resident heron or the elusive kingfishers ( my favourites.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The little white streaks behind me are probably wisps of cloud above the south end of the island of Arran. Every summer evening when the sun is setting behind the mountainous north end of the island, people come to the seafront to watch it go down. They leave only after the very last second, when the final vestige of the bright rays has disappeared, leaving a lovely orange-red glow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many years ago, when I was twenty, the tears came into my eyes at the memory of that beautiful scene. I was standing alone on the shore of a little French fishing village on the Atlantic coast. It was the first day of my nine-month term as English language assistant at two of the small local schools. I had been given one of the empty houses used by summer visitors, so had to adjust to living entirely on my own. As I stared at the empty horizon, knowing that there was no land between this shore and America, I was overcome with homesickness for the Ayrshire coast and the familiar outline of Arran!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But now, back to Suzanne's photograph... When I tried to remove the sticky sellotape I only succeeded in making my image look very scruffy, with strange white blotches on my right arm and around my left ear. The short sleeve of my seersucker blouse looks ragged - and as for my right elbow...! It seems to have grown a kind of <i>brush</i>, or, at best, to have a weird reflection!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fortunately I have in my living room a much more respectable photograph, showing my sister Freda, brother-in-law Brian and myself in our <i>finery! -</i> at dinner during our cruise to the Faroe Islands. That morning Brian had noticed a book beside one of our fellow passengers: <i>The Green Flash</i> by John Buchan. When he asked what the title meant, the reader told us that it refers to a natural phenomenon. Just as the sun is setting below the sea, the very top of its rays turns bright green, and, for only a second, gives a green flash before disappearing completely. We were intrigued, because we had never seen this happen. I had often watched the sun setting behind Arran - but that was behind the mountains, not below the sea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was a porthole beside our table. That evening Brian noticed that the sun was about to set below the horizon. "Quick, Kathleen!" he exclaimed, "Come and look!" I immediately got up and hurried over to stand behind him. We gazed out over the vast expanse of water. By this time we were on our way from Shetland to the Faroes. No land blocked our view of the horizon. As we watched the sun slowly sink I was suddenly aware, to my amusement, that we had been joined by several curious passengers who didn't seem to know <i>why</i> we were staring at the porthole, but didn't want to miss out on anything of interest! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Slowly, slowly the lowest rays moved down below the horizon, then suddenly, with a bright green FLASH! lasting only one second, the sun completely disappeared. We were all thrilled to have witnessed this remarkable phenomenon, and returned happily to our dinner tables.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, years later, in the present strange, unwelcome circumstances, I am 'self-isolating' because of my 'advanced age'. But a new<i> green flash</i> is bringing me great pleasure. It comes whenever someone is trying to contact me on my little mobile phone! and I thank God for all my kind family and friends. </span></div>
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Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-18437699614239445682020-02-29T08:00:00.000+00:002020-02-29T08:00:08.360+00:00Glory!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Glory!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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 <i>'Glory!'</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 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.</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christel had sent me a friendly letter, inviting me to supper at her home on the evening of my arrival by train from Frankfurt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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 <i>comforting!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But for me on that particular day it came as a<i> blessing</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, 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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>'For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the GLORY. Amen'</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deo gratias</span></div>
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Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-58269378539737984762020-02-02T00:30:00.000+00:002020-02-02T00:30:11.935+00:00Happy New Month!<div style="text-align: center;">
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(Snow on Arran. Photographer: Bill Sibbald)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(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<i> month.</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This happens to be our daughter Sally's birthday, and so I remember the overwhelming <i>joy </i>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.</span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But before I write about that, back to this week's news!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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<i> Auld Lang Syne,</i> ending with <i>'We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet for auld lang syne'</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>(f</i>or old time's sake). Well, that remains to be seen!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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: <b><i>Burns on the Beach! </i></b> 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. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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 <i>Burns<b>!</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> 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 <i>Burns on the Beach</i> is actually a misnomer!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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 <i>minute</i> at a time. I depended completely on 'prayer power' to give me enough strength to support the two of us and our three children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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 <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">floats <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">loaded with hay for the Arran<i> animals</i> beside a very large supermarket van full of food for the Arran<i> people.</i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "times new roman";"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Suddenly, just as I clicked the shutter, a wonderful coincidence occurred! Two things happened simultaneously: I felt impressed upon me the words: <b><i>"While you still have a</i></b> <b><i>shadow, feed my sheep" </i></b> 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 <i>Joyful Witness,</i> my illustrator, Ronnie Russell, was able to copy it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The 'instructions' I received on that blessed golden day on Arran are still precious to me. I understood them to mean<i> 'While you still have life and breath, help other people.' </i>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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks be to God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><u>Update! Coincidence!</u></b> 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) <i>Herald</i> newspaper - a seagull perched on the very top of Goatfell with, in the distance, Brodick and Holy Isle in Lamlash Bay!</span></div>
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Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-10605757379704439682020-01-11T08:00:00.000+00:002020-01-11T08:00:08.579+00:00The Mystery
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Mystery</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy New Year!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hope that you had a lovely Christmas season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In my family, Christmas Day 2019 will long be remembered as being very
special, because that afternoon my niece, Suzy, gave birth to a little boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to say, we were all thrilled!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I shall also remember that festive season for
another quite different reason, because, in addition to a large pile of lovely
presents, I received two<i> intangible</i> gifts: a Mystery followed by a
Coincidence!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder, dear reader, if
you can offer any explanation for the Mystery?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I still haven’t been able to solve it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here’s what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>About ten days before Christmas I saw that one of my cards was from my
friend Stuart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I immediately recognised
his handwriting on the envelope because of the way he strokes the letter ’t’
and gives a sort of flourish to certain capital letters: B, P, K.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A week later I was surprised to see the same handwriting on another
envelope – or so I thought!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ‘t’s had
the same long stroke, the capital letters, B, P and K had the same kind of
flourish, while my house number 38 looked identical to the previous one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had Stuart sent me a
second card by mistake? I wondered – having occasionally done that myself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when I opened the envelope, I was
astonished to find this affectionate message in completely different
handwriting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQJU6KwpZLb9ChcLbGuO4iqFF8YEqyPMUSxl9J7VtfvOZ0WHdeFwsi56N2sNmengy1qmMUeGFUqDenKKxyf7cdCxEI8uLOBfYl3BV5Cy8aupDYw5NGcRBRqH-UjacHS_89KHp_CZ-ixLB/s1600/PhotoScan+%252844%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1510" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQJU6KwpZLb9ChcLbGuO4iqFF8YEqyPMUSxl9J7VtfvOZ0WHdeFwsi56N2sNmengy1qmMUeGFUqDenKKxyf7cdCxEI8uLOBfYl3BV5Cy8aupDYw5NGcRBRqH-UjacHS_89KHp_CZ-ixLB/s320/PhotoScan+%252844%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From ‘Grandpa + Grandma + Tilly’!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, my grandparents all died decades
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, who or what is Tilly?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A dog?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A budgie?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will see that there is a tear on the
left-hand side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is because, stuck
to the paper, there was a gift voucher for £25!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It tore the card as I lifted it out in order to read the signature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The writer had omitted to include their
grandchild’s name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Oh dear”, I thought,
“somewhere there is somebody who will be disappointed not to receive a
Christmas present from his/her grandparents!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How can I send it on to them?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At church the next morning I asked if anyone knew a couple
who were grandparents and had a pet named Tilly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then someone asked if I had noticed the postcode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had not – being too busy concentrating on
the handwriting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I saw that it had
come from the Aberdeen sorting office<i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aberdeen! </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know
anyone there, did I?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But suddenly I thought of John Malcom, who had been one of
my Modern Languages classmates at Glasgow University and who now lives in
Aberdeen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since the 40<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of our graduation John has sent Christmas cards to us all. Now I
remembered having previously noticed the similarity between his handwriting and
Stuart’s.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>However, that
didn’t solve the mystery of the grandparents, Tilly and the £25 voucher</i>! Did
John and his wife Isobel have any grandchildren? A pet called Tilly? If not, perhaps
John and a friend who has a grandchild, plus a ‘Tilly’, had sat together
writing Christmas cards and addressing the envelopes, and somehow one of the
friend’s cards had accidentally been put in the envelope addressed to me?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I phoned another former classmate, who gave me John’s
telephone number – plus the information that John and Isobel have neither
grandchildren nor a pet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I called
John and explained my dilemma, he was just as mystified as I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and Isobel had written and addressed the
cards together, just as they always did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They had no grandchildren and knew of no Tilly (human or animal!) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Determined to get the gift voucher to its rightful owner, I
sent an email to the letters page of the<i> Aberdeen Press and Journal, </i>in
the hope that one of its readers could help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I enclosed my address and telephone number, but have had no response.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a small piece of Sellotape on the back of the
envelope, to keep it closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably
the sender had wanted to ensure the safety of the gift voucher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what if somebody, having felt the
hardness of the voucher, had taken it out, spent it, then put it back in an
envelope chosen at random (mine) and sealed it with the Sellotape?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I took the voucher to the shop in question, I was assured that it
was still worth £25…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, the Mystery
remains!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73G82zoxEUffwdqecsP-6zJsf3nZ0e5govFdMfRh74THDfLGzlDpZgPz3NiTuM5OFFnt5JggMJ9kkdWy7ugwsIYxxgwZS90Y64DbAJSDi9mSIsUufs9aNK5RYzK3xniR216U6EqRCqfS9/s1600/Robin+card+from+Aberdeen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1466" data-original-width="1600" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73G82zoxEUffwdqecsP-6zJsf3nZ0e5govFdMfRh74THDfLGzlDpZgPz3NiTuM5OFFnt5JggMJ9kkdWy7ugwsIYxxgwZS90Y64DbAJSDi9mSIsUufs9aNK5RYzK3xniR216U6EqRCqfS9/s320/Robin+card+from+Aberdeen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now for the Coincidence … or perhaps I should say
‘Coincidences’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A minor one is that
both cards show a robin sitting on a branch, looking down at a pal - another
robin/ a bear cub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I <i>know</i>
that many Christmas cards have robins on them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On 3 January, while I
was still puzzling over the Mystery, a present arrived from France: a DVD from
my friends Pascal and Soizic <i>ROBIN.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I chortled with delight when I saw the first two words of the
title:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>LE MYSTERE</i>! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is the cover. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOagAZfojrFE6OS3EtEyQ1Qgo0-mYHTvc3l9lJLKkrOeM-b9EGv2RbOpcrVVv1Nw6N5cTfTuS2FROfT8zz3Yexzizr-afUW0hOrAziE0AH3vA5cGj4KIkYGUYrz81mu78OU7VXNhk7l46H/s1600/Le+Mystere+from+the+Robin+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1111" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOagAZfojrFE6OS3EtEyQ1Qgo0-mYHTvc3l9lJLKkrOeM-b9EGv2RbOpcrVVv1Nw6N5cTfTuS2FROfT8zz3Yexzizr-afUW0hOrAziE0AH3vA5cGj4KIkYGUYrz81mu78OU7VXNhk7l46H/s320/Le+Mystere+from+the+Robin+family.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The mystery in the film concerns the true identity of the
author of a best-selling novel who used the pseudonym ‘Henri Pick’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was solved when the main character noticed
<i>the formation of the letter ‘K’!</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(This led to the owner of the faulty
typewriter.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once again, I ask myself (and <i>you</i>!): What is the
significance of such mysteries and coincidences?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do believe that they indicate the existence
of another, invisible, reality <i>which cannot be explained by mere human logic</i>
and which binds us all together in a wonderful ‘golden network’. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On 4 January, the
day after the parcel arrived from France, I took part in a lovely choral event,
in which we rehearsed some key choruses from Handel’s <i>Messiah</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our conductor sang a bass recitative and aria
with words from the New Testament, based on chapter 51 of the apostle Paul’s
first letter to the Corinthians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How I
relished<i> </i>hearing him begin<i> </i>with <b><i>‘Behold, I tell you a
mystery!’</i></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what Paul went on to write: ‘We shall not all die.
Instead we shall all be <i>changed</i>, in an instant, in the twinkling of an
eye…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For this mortality must put on
immortality’…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, <i>‘Death
is not the end.’</i></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanks
be to God.</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-11178203987871471402019-12-07T08:00:00.000+00:002019-12-07T09:08:41.049+00:00Now for the GOOD News!<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now
for the GOOD News!</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you have a favourite Christmas carol?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you do, I’d love to play it for you, or
play the accompaniment while you sing!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDIhU06XyE-v4QRkfjQwcfFE9r7diIfftbPQka7XHiCg4Bn20cfmRuUd7sE_r4KEhZc9VF5adL3RNc16VeXolpqjSlyBEhhY8kbkC_JlAQC-gk_tbeJQqfh-FQgGdEqwklfrqv4UR15fZ/s1600/Christmas+2018%252C+Belfast.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDIhU06XyE-v4QRkfjQwcfFE9r7diIfftbPQka7XHiCg4Bn20cfmRuUd7sE_r4KEhZc9VF5adL3RNc16VeXolpqjSlyBEhhY8kbkC_JlAQC-gk_tbeJQqfh-FQgGdEqwklfrqv4UR15fZ/s320/Christmas+2018%252C+Belfast.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last year I had the privilege and pleasure of playing for
the Christmas morning service in the Grosvenor Hall, Belfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the banner on the wall behind me,
with the words of the prophet Isaiah foretelling the birth of Jesus<i>: ‘The
people who</i> <i>walked in darkness have seen a great light.’</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My own favourite Christmas hymn is <i>‘It came upon the
midnight clear’ </i>based on the apostle Luke’s account of an angel suddenly
appearing one night to shepherds who were out </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">guarding their flock from
predators or thieves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, they
were terrified but the angel reassured them that he was there to bring them good
news, news of great joy, of the birth of a Saviour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then suddenly they heard a host of angels
singing<i>:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peace on earth, good will to
you from heaven’s all-gracious King!</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They were told that, as a<b> sign</b> that this was true,
they would find a baby wrapped in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>swaddling clothes, lying in a manger (a very unlikely place for a baby
to be!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The apostle John uses the word <b>‘sign’
</b>instead of<b> </b>‘miracle<b>’ </b>when referring to Jesus’s astonishing
acts of healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This ‘sign’ must have
seemed miraculous to the shepherds!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
favourite part of the story is: <i>‘The shepherds returned, glorifying and
praising God for what they had heard and seen<b>: it had all happened as they
had</b></i><b> <i>been told.</i></b>’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>i.e. they had had <i>confirmatio</i>n of what<b><i>
</i></b>had seemed an unbelievable event. That is why I love this part!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years I have noticed that a notable
event is often followed by a <i>confirmatory</i> coincidence.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Poor, illiterate, marginalised, no doubt dirty and smelly,
the shepherds are in complete contrast to the wealthy, mighty Roman emperor
Augustus who was, at that very time, exercising his power by decreeing that all
the (Roman) world should be taxed, and that all citizens must report to their
place of birth to be registered. Yet these were the unlikely messengers chosen
to spread the good news of “Peace on earth”!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Peace on earth…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, many cynics would say “Nonsense!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There will always be wars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Human
beings are territorial and aggressive.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That, alas, is true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there is
<i>another</i> much deeper truth which, thank God, is always available to us,
if we seek it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus told his disciples
that they would always hear of wars and rumours of wars – but that this must
not stop them from following his teaching of the way of peace, love and
repentance.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The third verse of my favourite hymn says: </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But with the woes of sin and strife the world
has suffered long; beneath the angels’ hymn have rolled two thousand years of
wrong; and warring human-kind hears not the love-song which they bring; oh,
hush the noise and still the strife to hear the angels sing.</span></i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I first sang this in a junior choir on Christmas Day 1949 –
seventy years ago!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since then the
British armed forces have been involved in 27 wars in different parts of the
world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But over those same seventy years I have met many people
who have inspired me: people who, despite sorrow, illness, financial worries
and many other difficulties, have nevertheless discovered the joy of complete
trust in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We might call them “<i>people
who have heard</i> <i>the angels sing”!</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">This week sees the anniversary, on 10</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><sup>th</sup>
December, of my first blog post on</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.ourgoldennetwork.blogspot.com/">www.ourgoldennetwork.blogspot.com</a>
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Entitled <i>Help is at Hand</i> then <i>Help is at Hand (sequel)</i>,
it is the true account of an astonishing incident which was followed by a
confirmatory coincidence – so amazing that I felt the urge to share it with as
many people as possible, in the hope of bringing them comfort and cheer!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can still find it by scrolling down all
the way back to Monday 10 December, clicking 6 times on ‘<b><i>More Posts’</i></b>
as you go.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am much indebted to my lovely friend Liz Crumlish, who
helped me to set up my blog, then showed me how to add pictures to the text.
Throughout this year (the year of my 80<sup>th</sup> birthday) I have published
a new post almost every week, making a total of over 50. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that they have brought pleasure, and
perhaps some comfort to my readers!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If I am spared (as we say here in Scotland) I hope to
continue posting my true stories next year, in 2020.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But meanwhile I wish you a <i><span style="color: red;">Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year</span></i><span style="color: red;">! </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To end with,
here is a lovely picture, by a six-year-old girl, which has been on my study
wall all year, since last Christmas… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><span style="color: red;"></span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"></span></b><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEca0eOAjHuYU6K9QF3LXKsySHA54lubpgc-qqPuAWzyau07zY47abW4DkvfGszLSefy_7QMNae74DC568K64acH5KX4Y8T4LxU3UChhqpypOLG9PvB4-JMKhww7lqwS-uRImpB2621va/s1600/Good+News.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1165" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEca0eOAjHuYU6K9QF3LXKsySHA54lubpgc-qqPuAWzyau07zY47abW4DkvfGszLSefy_7QMNae74DC568K64acH5KX4Y8T4LxU3UChhqpypOLG9PvB4-JMKhww7lqwS-uRImpB2621va/s320/Good+News.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Deo gratias</div>
Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-75081547208046362072019-11-30T08:00:00.000+00:002019-11-30T08:00:03.700+00:00Something Special in my "Study"
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Something
Special in my “Study”</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you have a spare bedroom which might be called a
“multi-purpose room”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a little
one which is only occasionally used as a bedroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go there to work on my computer, or practise
music on my keyboard, or – let’s be honest! – use it as a “glory hole” where,
before a guest arrives, I hastily deposit all sorts of items which have been
cluttering up my living-room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I
hesitate to give it the grand title of “my Study”!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, when I discovered this wooden plaque
in the local Shelter shop, I bought it, thinking that it would lend an element
of dignity to this somewhat messy little room.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyMJGCesFWOxRbjQnEscVelGo04eaitoppoPB_548SiUZ3iRl8Oz025_y93iPBIvujkAMASHq_75N6oMO3afgH2zhUcjmZ_sLchD-uK4Jhq5il3HNF1aG9oYE5uLnKLBOSz7lP7BMiulC/s1600/G+U+coat+of+arms+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1208" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyMJGCesFWOxRbjQnEscVelGo04eaitoppoPB_548SiUZ3iRl8Oz025_y93iPBIvujkAMASHq_75N6oMO3afgH2zhUcjmZ_sLchD-uK4Jhq5il3HNF1aG9oYE5uLnKLBOSz7lP7BMiulC/s320/G+U+coat+of+arms+%25282%2529.JPG" width="241" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The plaque shows the crest of Glasgow University, where I
studied for my degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was in the
days when blazers were still worn by students of both sexes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved my black blazer with this crest
stitched in gold thread on the breast pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On Saturday mornings I would wear it when I met my friends, Jinty and
Senga – Jinty in her navy blue Jordanhill Teacher Training College blazer, and
Senga in her purple Domestic Science College (‘Dough School’!) blazer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On cold days we added the matching scarves
and felt very smart!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The University crest contains four items which also appear
on the city of Glasgow’s coat-of-arms: a<i> bird</i>, a <i>tree</i>, a<i> bell</i>
and a<i> fish</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All four refer to
legends about Glasgow’s patron saint, St Mungo who, in the 6<sup>th</sup>
century, founded many Christian churches and monasteries in the West of
Scotland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bird</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When jealous classmates, trying to get the
clever Mungo into trouble, killed their teacher’s pet robin, it is said that he
miraculously brought the bird back to life.</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The tree</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mungo was meant to be looking after the fire,
the monastery’s all-important source of heat, but he fell asleep and the fire
went out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is said to have rekindled
the dead ashes, using only some branches from a nearby tree.</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bell</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. We are told that Mungo
brought this back from Rome, where he had gone to meet the Pope.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The fish</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. (This is the most impressive
item!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The king of one of the Scottish
kingdoms suspected his queen of having an affair with a young soldier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He claimed that she had presented her lover
with a ring which he, the king, had given her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He invited the soldier to go hunting with him, then when the young man
fell asleep, he took the ring off his finger and threw it into the River Clyde.
He then demanded that the queen show him the ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she couldn’t do this, he had her
imprisoned and condemned to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
desperation, she sent a letter to Mungo, begging for his help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mungo sent the messenger to fish in the
Clyde, telling him to bring back the first fish that he caught.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the salmon was cut open – there was the
ring!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On seeing it, the king pardoned
his wife - probably because he was both amazed and alarmed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(The queen promised the saint that she would
sin no more!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In fact, Mungo himself was the result of an illicit
affair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His father, Owain, was already
married to someone else when his mother conceived him. When her violent father
abused her, she and her baby took refuge in her brother’s home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The baby’s real name was Kentigern, but his
uncle gave him the affectionate pet name of Mungo, which means ‘Beloved
one.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I like that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try saying, “Come here, Kentigern!” which is
quite spiky to pronounce, then say, “Come here, Mungo!” and feel how much
softer and friendlier that sounds!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the middle of the University crest is a pointed mace, a
symbol of academic authority, granted to the new university in1465.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above it is an open book, symbol of
learning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The University’s motto, <i>Via
Veritas, Vita </i>is the Latin for Christ’s words:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(”I am) the Way, the Truth and the
Life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time when the University
was founded, Latin was the common language (‘<i>lingua franca’</i>) in all
universities throughout Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a
result, students could travel to a university of their choice, and understand
the lectures, no matter which country they were in.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On my “Study” wall, to the right of this plaque, I have a
collection of family photographs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here
is one of my two grandsons, taken on the important day that Ciaran, the younger
one, first went to school.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PqYcc5JF4klZ6FytEE0ZNz_cFHp1nfdAg5gKlUjTC_PRPdTfnARvUTc6XwbA19nkdXd_NmUaLuZDidu71WtfAWVe2lWjqOTQnnP_fdk908ZMAxMDTCeaH7j9g-GQeqYoHJYXuGUbnq2G/s1600/Ciaran%2527s+1st+day+at+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PqYcc5JF4klZ6FytEE0ZNz_cFHp1nfdAg5gKlUjTC_PRPdTfnARvUTc6XwbA19nkdXd_NmUaLuZDidu71WtfAWVe2lWjqOTQnnP_fdk908ZMAxMDTCeaH7j9g-GQeqYoHJYXuGUbnq2G/s320/Ciaran%2527s+1st+day+at+school.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By way of contrast, I have this one of my elder grandson,
in formal attire, taken in the spring of 2019.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A fourth-year student at Glasgow University, he is a keen member of the
G.U. Union debating society. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fuXB7WJoqZeh0NcdswZ2MzDNSyjBZoRK8uHdVlZp-bsPmEarKCOxh_h1Ez-L_lSUnGCVzYluqlHZeycVdTWuTbfzPWY1_fyYALFw2O-4QaItJDIlH0w-UbY30Rr2oplG_XfEyh_J1cTi/s1600/Owain+at+G.U..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1305" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fuXB7WJoqZeh0NcdswZ2MzDNSyjBZoRK8uHdVlZp-bsPmEarKCOxh_h1Ez-L_lSUnGCVzYluqlHZeycVdTWuTbfzPWY1_fyYALFw2O-4QaItJDIlH0w-UbY30Rr2oplG_XfEyh_J1cTi/s320/Owain+at+G.U..jpg" width="261" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His parents and brother had come over from Belfast to hear
him make his ‘Prime Ministerial speech’ at the final Parliamentary debate of
the academic year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(By a nice
coincidence his name, like that of St Mungo’s father, is <i>Owain</i>!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have no idea who donated my plaque to Shelter, nor where
it was originally hung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With its dark
wood, it looks like part of a wood-panelled room, perhaps in one of the old
university buildings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the way, having
recently published a blog post about robins, I was amused to realise that the
dark bird on top of the tree is meant to be a robin redbreast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I should give him a dab of red nail
varnish!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My father, my husband, Bob, and I all studied at Glasgow
University.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How glad I am that Owain,
born and brought up in Northern Ireland, has formed this strong new family
connection with Scotland’s second oldest university!<i></i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-57455355002982133942019-11-23T08:00:00.000+00:002019-11-23T08:00:11.317+00:00Three Jewels from my Treasure Store<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Three
Jewels from my Treasure Store<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Aha, Kathleen! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think you’ve got something to tell us!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>exclaimed Helen, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table from
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was teatime at the Guild meeting
in the church hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other four ladies
paused as they passed round the plate of home-made cakes, and looked at me
enquiringly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helen gave me a knowing
smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go on, tell us the good news!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Puzzled, I replied, “I would if I knew what you mean!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helen lifted her left hand and wiggled her
ring finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked down at my own
ring finger, where the diamonds on my engagement ring were twinkling brightly,
as if new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helen, knowing that I was a
widow, must have noticed that I was no longer wearing my wedding ring, and
seeing the diamond ring, must have assumed that I had recently got engaged to a
‘new man’.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no nice romantic tale
to tell!” I said with a chuckle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, the following day I found myself writing a little
note to Helen, telling her of a ‘follow-up’ coincidence!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I woke up that morning I had smiled down
at my left hand, remembering Helen’s assumption about the ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as I left my bedroom I had, as usual,
gone straight to the bookcase opposite, to change the date on the French
365-day calendar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my astonishment,
this is what I saw! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFx5ULj_e39iD39O9dCcxZzRRr_7se4f-qV92aM-4opM7W41jWeBHAbvsqzxZWBUAyaA3ABJnKla6I6wyXTV5tZQw1agJgvz6oe1PEEONzd9tT9hijsSXqToz29lruYsjacPh8LQcxYaR/s1600/Austrian+queen%2527s+rings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1145" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFx5ULj_e39iD39O9dCcxZzRRr_7se4f-qV92aM-4opM7W41jWeBHAbvsqzxZWBUAyaA3ABJnKla6I6wyXTV5tZQw1agJgvz6oe1PEEONzd9tT9hijsSXqToz29lruYsjacPh8LQcxYaR/s320/Austrian+queen%2527s+rings.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t resist telling Helen about this delicious
coincidence – even though I suspected that, as a retired nursing sister known
for her forthright, no-nonsense opinions, she would possibly dismiss it as mere
fantasy. But to me it was a precious reminder of another, earlier coincidence
concerning <i>a ring</i> plus the <i>French calendar</i>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob, my dear
husband, had died on the 26<sup>th</sup> of June, the day before our 23<sup>rd</sup>
wedding anniversary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year since, I
have felt very sad on June 26, but then, on the next day, 27 June, I have
gratefully thanked God for the joy of our wedding day! However, this has been
more difficult on the special anniversaries which we would have been
celebrating along with our contemporaries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I discovered that two years after his death, when we would have been
enjoying our Silver Wedding day together.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fifteen years later I was bracing myself to face the date
of our Ruby Wedding when, very early in the morning of 21<sup>st</sup> June
(Midsummer!) I awoke to ‘hear’ a mysterious instruction: <i>“Take off your
wedding ring!”</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was something which I had never wanted to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moreover, taking it off was by now more or
less impossible because my ring finger had swollen over the forty years since
our wedding day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that the ring
could probably be enlarged, but I feared that the jeweller might cut through
the inscription on the inside:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RB – KIH.
31.1.64 (the official date of our engagement.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, after ‘hearing’ the instruction, I thought that, given the
constriction on that finger, it was probably now time to take the risk, and to have
the ring made bigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I still
hesitated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Maybe I’ll do it later, when I get up”, I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then it was somehow impressed on me: “No,
do it NOW!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I sleepily fetched soap,
a damp cloth and some Vaseline, and after several minutes of struggle,
eventually managed to pull off my precious gold wedding ring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carefully I held it up <i>between my right thumb and my
index finger</i>, in the light of the bedside lamp, trying to see if the
inscription was still legible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It was,
fortunately).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I went back to
sleep, I tenderly placed the ring in the little box containing Bob’s wedding
ring, a bigger version of mine – the ring which he had always insisted on
wearing, even in hospital during his operations to have cancer cells removed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I got up a few hours later I went, as usual, to change
the date on the French calendar – and was amazed to see <i>another woman
holding a ring between her right</i> <i>thumb and index finger</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The picture, which dates from the Middle Ages,
was taken from a prayer book created for the Duc de Berry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young woman has just received the
betrothal ring (<i>alliance</i>), which will be her <i>wedding ring,</i> from her
princely suitor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zbAJMvLNlyrkoHECiK7YvsTDJ8mj0z_wA1d0bZAB9UuwubkkZVLuBf5dKZg8HMqIplsiz0CuHj4KV6ilYb5UpYJrp5RKavKcjsS3yRbkt0jDhtC27c0hQjqL5jt-JbEYybI1cA_cBzU3/s1600/PhotoScan+%252846%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="1600" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-zbAJMvLNlyrkoHECiK7YvsTDJ8mj0z_wA1d0bZAB9UuwubkkZVLuBf5dKZg8HMqIplsiz0CuHj4KV6ilYb5UpYJrp5RKavKcjsS3yRbkt0jDhtC27c0hQjqL5jt-JbEYybI1cA_cBzU3/s320/PhotoScan+%252846%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The joy of this astonishing
‘coincidence’ carried me through the next few days of our Ruby Wedding week,
and I humbly thanked God for that blessing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our two wedding rings lay together in their little box for
almost ten years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day I put on my
engagement ring as a replacement for the wedding ring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the date of our Golden Wedding drew near,
I finally had my ring enlarged to fit my finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The inscription remained intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I should have trusted the jeweller’s skill!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One morning, in the last week of June, I awoke to another
silent ‘message’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time it was in
French!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ‘heard’ <i>“Je brede le tapis</i>”.
As I visualised how I would write this, it was impressed on me that the first ‘e’
in <i>brede </i>would require a grave accent, (in accordance with the rule that
this vowel has to be strengthened in a single syllable word ending in a silent ‘e’!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I’m sure you know, dear reader!!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, the word would be pronounced ’’b-<b>red</b>”,
but I didn’t know what it meant!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
never seen this word before<i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Le
tapis’</i> means ‘<i>the carpet</i> or <i>rug</i> or <i>mat</i>’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps there was a connection with ‘embroidery’?
I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could it mean <i>‘I embroider
the</i> <i>rug</i>’?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, if so, <b>why</b>?
And anyway, I remembered that the French for ‘to embroider’ is ‘br<b>o</b>der,
with the letter ‘<b>o</b>’!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I puzzled
over this verbal conundrum, it was again impressed on me that the second word
had to have “<b><i>red” </i></b>in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Time to consult my splendid big Larousse dictionary! No sign of a verb ‘<i>breder</i>’,
so I turned to the word <i>‘tapis’ – </i>and TING! – I saw the picture I just <i>knew</i>
that I was meant to see! </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4l8q6INls2Ip4HDZdBQN89mRxKYdiNl6PJoi4lHh163P10bi2m-ZY1rbr5TSyOJjeLNha_uu7WQ8zOgexN0NZUyt0k6gzNaAko6EhhPVPl7InLBoWZxiAr2Jw1qWkxMWsb-EU69zPy8R/s1600/PhotoScan+%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1086" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4l8q6INls2Ip4HDZdBQN89mRxKYdiNl6PJoi4lHh163P10bi2m-ZY1rbr5TSyOJjeLNha_uu7WQ8zOgexN0NZUyt0k6gzNaAko6EhhPVPl7InLBoWZxiAr2Jw1qWkxMWsb-EU69zPy8R/s320/PhotoScan+%25288%2529.jpg" width="217" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lKT6eggos24i6hKrfJe1gaK5raHOiVyDRf20K9CDunQn6bAb_bXsgbP9oEf_kh8pHjCe5DaoEeCOd2M2_9KfPwkYADX4xgpfkBY9DyGpEkqnAgYY6V0cbH_U5eEPy_VkyG48_OnRWw5u/s1600/L%2527offrance+du+coeur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1515" data-original-width="1600" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lKT6eggos24i6hKrfJe1gaK5raHOiVyDRf20K9CDunQn6bAb_bXsgbP9oEf_kh8pHjCe5DaoEeCOd2M2_9KfPwkYADX4xgpfkBY9DyGpEkqnAgYY6V0cbH_U5eEPy_VkyG48_OnRWw5u/s320/L%2527offrance+du+coeur.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On the same page as the picture of a beautiful ‘<i>tapis</i>’
there was one illustrating a medieval <i>tapestry</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Entitled <i>‘L’offrande du coeur’</i> (The offering
of the heart), it shows a man in princely costume (note the shoes!) offering
something to the lady of his choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Between
his right thumb and index finger he is holding out</i> <i>a <b>red</b> heart</i>!
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus said: “<i>How blest are the sorrowful; they shall
find consolation</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Matt 6,v 4) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">and <i>“Dwell in my love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If you heed my commands, you will dwell in my love, as I have heeded my
Father’s commands and dwell in his love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have spoken thus to you, so that my joy may be in you, and your joy
complete.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(John 15, vv 10, 11)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"></span></b><br /></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-26872744155503890512019-11-16T08:00:00.000+00:002019-11-16T08:00:01.143+00:00Organs and Robins<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Organs
and Robins!</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Does the Holy Spirit have a sense of humour?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do members of my ‘dear departed’ sometimes
try to make me smile?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does my guardian
angel enjoy word play?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are some of
the questions I ask myself when I feel that a funny little coincidence has
somehow been <i>organised</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By whom? I don’t claim to know the answers -
but I have learned just to enjoy it and then to murmur ”Thank you!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remind myself of Paul’s words in 1<sup>st</sup>
Corinthians, chapter 13,verse12: <i>For now we see through a glass, darkly; but
then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am
known.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCwYeoXBJw9627JEUE_Jj28cUpO_OY9XKJ84SlE8humYBAc6wKvZKZ14Uu3T0bAkKypGSZwm810fzBPW0F22ELs85aoar9A0FXRZow1nvKmo2nYaXGJGiBgHSScK5km9DGVnUbwauyFsE/s1600/Two+bridges%252C+River+Ayr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCwYeoXBJw9627JEUE_Jj28cUpO_OY9XKJ84SlE8humYBAc6wKvZKZ14Uu3T0bAkKypGSZwm810fzBPW0F22ELs85aoar9A0FXRZow1nvKmo2nYaXGJGiBgHSScK5km9DGVnUbwauyFsE/s320/Two+bridges%252C+River+Ayr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This picture shows the River Ayr with two of its bridges,
the Auld Brig in the foreground, and the New Bridge, over which the main road
leads to Ayr Town Hall with its tall spire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i>(Don’t be alarmed by the sinister hand apparently rising out of the
water! That’s just the reflection of my fingers – seen through the glass,
darkly!)</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From April to November, I
attend the Monday organ recitals in the Town Hall. After parking my car near
the Auld Brig, I make my way on foot to the main road, then cross to the other
side of the river.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One Monday as I approached the New Bridge, I noticed a
large bird perched on a tree trunk in the river. “Oh, there’s a gannet!” I
thought, but then, realising my mistake, “No, that’s a cormorant, not a <i>gannet.</i>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately after that I heard a man exclaiming
to his little son, “Oh look!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s an
air rescue helicopter from HMS<i> Gannet” </i>(a Royal Navy land base at nearby
Prestwick Airport).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smiling at this
unexpected coincidence, I thought to myself as I crossed the bridge, “That’s
funny to hear GANnet twice like that, just when I’m on my way to an orGAN
recital!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be a strange
coincidence if the programme includes something with GAN in the title!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to think of any piece by Bach, or any
other of the usual composers, which had those three letters, but without
success.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just then the Town Hall clock struck twelve noon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The recital would have started. I would have
to enter the hall as quietly as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tiptoeing in, I saw Michael, the organiser of the recitals, beckon to me
to sit beside him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He silently handed me
a copy of the programme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my surprise
I saw that, for the first time ever, it included some songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The organist’s wife, a professional singer,
was going to perform for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost disgraced
myself by bursting out laughing when I saw that she had chosen the Welsh
lullaby <i>Suo GAN!</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMlO3OpriCzBXp19zij1PScY6yCi_dGgRUGlqMTAyIRkdFgBTedj5RIzUWyc2w7r2fnvgbTM2tHYW8pRv2nE_9ZNbuB2AmUnbi2Yu7-a4YwHJuo9eoYsLYWq7IQopZ3JPUUWaLVzdCleA/s1600/Ayr+Town+Hall+Lewis++organ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1600" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMlO3OpriCzBXp19zij1PScY6yCi_dGgRUGlqMTAyIRkdFgBTedj5RIzUWyc2w7r2fnvgbTM2tHYW8pRv2nE_9ZNbuB2AmUnbi2Yu7-a4YwHJuo9eoYsLYWq7IQopZ3JPUUWaLVzdCleA/s320/Ayr+Town+Hall+Lewis++organ.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Town Hall’s Lewis organ is a magnificent three-manual
instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The recitals, now in their
11<sup>th</sup> year, attract organists from all over the UK as well as from
other countries, such as Germany and Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is even a waiting list of organists who wish to play it!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just after I retired from teaching, I was delighted to have
the chance to participate in a project which aimed to enable pianists to become
‘supply organists’, whenever their church organist was ill or on holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My lessons took place in a church with
another three-manual organ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found that
a big challenge, especially when trying to play with my feet as well as with my
hands!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I eventually became
proficient enough to play occasionally for church services – something which I
greatly enjoy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As a contrast, I also learned to play something much easier:
the ocarina, which is a little wind instrument. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been looking for a small lightweight
instrument to take with me on my travels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The lady in a local music shop suggested the ocarina when I told her
that I was about to leave for France, to visit my musical friend, Pascal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and I had enjoyed playing duets when he
was in Scotland – Pascal on guitar, and myself on piano or cello.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little ocarina is limited in its range –
just over an octave – but I soon found tunes which suited it and, for the first
time, was pleased that I could play from memory, without any need of sheet
music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, Pascal and I had good fun
with our new-found ‘wind duets’, as he is very proficient on ‘la flute
irlandaise’ i.e. the penny whistle!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pascal’s surname Is ROBIN, so I was very amused when,
sometime later, I found myself playing a duet with another Robin – but this one
had wings and a red breast!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cousin
Fiona and I had stopped for a picnic at a quiet spot in a Country Park when I
suddenly felt the urge to play my ocarina. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had played only a few notes when I heard a
loud burst of birdsong nearby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little
robin had hopped along the path until he stood near me, and was singing his
heart out – perhaps as a fierce declaration of his territorial rights!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fiona quietly took this photograph of us
both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will see him if you look for
his tiny shadow on the path!</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3V3Iq7m39u_1DyG9AjnsxZmIi7kqtshI4JlRgjvrAJbnVWkxeyuESqbLrfKh9GDErstM0ZubZEBIh454QPGGschfsldCSv7LIilv5Ekt_GlsKt4YDSDtbgWBs1PZFH6mIK6YT11mFYUsx/s1600/robin+at+Culzean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3V3Iq7m39u_1DyG9AjnsxZmIi7kqtshI4JlRgjvrAJbnVWkxeyuESqbLrfKh9GDErstM0ZubZEBIh454QPGGschfsldCSv7LIilv5Ekt_GlsKt4YDSDtbgWBs1PZFH6mIK6YT11mFYUsx/s320/robin+at+Culzean.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was privileged and delighted to play the organ at the
wedding of Pascal and his bride, Soizic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The marriage took place at the village church in Iffendic, in the heart
of Brittany. (Fortunately, the organ was relatively small and not too
complicated!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The following year Pascal brought Soizic on a little tour
of Scotland, including a couple of days with me in Prestwick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a local park we stopped, to let me take a
photograph of the happy couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To our
delight, a little robin hopped up on to a branch between them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three ROBINS in a row!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILpjs734HQBEwUCDwabyh34e2IOE37GH98Q0IoGJ6MJqQgzFSqWsb8O0ZHdO2mgEcyVQKopwmFXSn7cA4yFo5OKr98I_4jNzw_zlx4rYadHHdcX2h2Z-TQtqYHd5taZKoI9KDV0oayZj7/s1600/Les+Robins%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1006" data-original-width="1600" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILpjs734HQBEwUCDwabyh34e2IOE37GH98Q0IoGJ6MJqQgzFSqWsb8O0ZHdO2mgEcyVQKopwmFXSn7cA4yFo5OKr98I_4jNzw_zlx4rYadHHdcX2h2Z-TQtqYHd5taZKoI9KDV0oayZj7/s320/Les+Robins%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shortly afterwards I received a message from Pascal to say
that a few days later, when in Edinburgh, they had discovered that there was
another little Robin on the way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the
end of the following May they were blessed with a lovely little son, to whom
they gave the name Laouenan ROBIN.</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-43352996340536234052019-11-09T08:00:00.000+00:002019-11-09T08:00:02.895+00:00Angelic Help<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Angelic
Help</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Last week I wrote about the first of two unexpected
presents which I had just received: the picture of a Hallowe’en witch and her
cat. The second was a birthday present
from Mairi and Bill, two friends who live in Linlithgow, not far from
Edinburgh. Mairi apologised for not
sending it sooner, but in actual fact I was delighted when I opened the parcel
to see how<i> timeous</i> its arrival was!
It contained these two items: a lovely silver pendant and a little </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">notebook, both showing the spiky sculpture on top of Saint Michael’s church,
Linlithgow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">The sculptor, Geoffrey Clarke, was asked to create a new
aluminium replacement for the previous stone sculpture of a crown. (The church
is beside the former royal palace.) To
me, it looks more like a collection of <i>weapons</i>, with a tall spear in the
middle. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">That would be appropriate,
because Saint Michael is an unusual saint – not a holy person who was canonised
by the Pope, but an<i> angel</i>, in fact an <i>Arch</i>angel, who is referred
to as the leader of all the other angels in God’s army, in the fight against
evil. So, having recently written my
post <i>Protection Needed</i>, I was glad to wear my Saint Michael pendant at
Hallowe’en! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Now, in this age of rapid advances in technology, many
people would, I dare say, scoff at the very idea of angels. And yet research has shown that there are
many who <i>do</i> believe in angels, even if they would hesitate to admit it
in public. I remember being very surprised to hear my practical down-to-earth
mother tell me, one summer evening at dusk (a good time for confidences!), that
she had once seen an angel. It was when
she was expecting my sister, Freda, who is nine years younger than me. Having lost three premature babies, Mum was
very anxious about this pregnancy. But
one night she suddenly saw a golden angel at the foot of the bed, with the
reassuring message that this time all would be well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">The word ‘angel’ means ‘messenger’ – specifically one
bearing a message from God. The most
famous case is the Annunciation, when the Archangel Gabriel told a young
virgin, Mary, that she would have a son – Jesus. The Italian artist Fra Angelico painted
several variations on this theme. I love
how he depicted Gabriel in various colour schemes, each with wings matching his
different robes! I have a copy of one on
my bedroom wall, just above my bed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">However, angels don’t necessarily have wings. Sometimes they appear suddenly, in ordinary
human form, then, having provided help and/or reassurance to someone in need,
they disappear again just as suddenly.
This once happened to me at a very challenging time, when I was
fervently praying for help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">It was early on a Saturday morning and I had just wakened
up at the sound of the teamaker alarm clock beside the bed. After yet another operation to remove
cancerous cells from his bladder, Bob was still in pain and passing blood, so I
was upstairs in Sally’s single bed. (She
was then at university.) Bob, Linda, Michael and Bob’s mother - who now lived
with us because of her Parkinson’s disease – were all still asleep. I poured out a cup of tea and sat up straight,
cradling its warmth and marshalling my thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">What did I have to do today? The usual Saturday jobs: at least two loads
of washing; tidying and cleaning the house.
Linda and Michael would help – but would there be time to cook extra
stew for the freezer? or to weed the garden?
The ironing could wait until tomorrow evening, but I urgently needed to
drive to the supermarket for next week’s supplies. After that I would like to
take the car to the car wash – but I’d better not stay away from home too long,
just in case Bob might once again need emergency post-operative care at the
hospital. And in any case, I remembered that I had a pile of exam papers to
correct! Somehow or other I would have
to find a couple of hours before bedtime tomorrow to mark the French Listening
Test so as to have the results ready for my colleagues on Monday morning. I made a determined effort to calm my
over-active mind as, holding the still-warm cup, I prayed for strength.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">But suddenly I found that I did not need to go through my
usual relaxation routine. With lightning
speed, I ‘saw’ myself – that is, my conscious self – leave my body and soar
outside. Up, up I was rising, over the
tall cypresses in our garden, swiftly down the nearby street to join the main
road into the town, then, gathering momentum, down Ayr High Street to the
harbour. A swift left turn, and I was
following the River Ayr to the sea.
Soaring across the Firth of Clyde then over the mountainous island of
Arran, I ‘reached’ the Kilbrannan Sound between the south end of Arran and the
Mull of Kintyre. Ah, what an
exhilarating sense of weightlessness and freedom!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">All at once I was aware that I was no longer alone. Three or four beings of light surrounded
me. Using a silent means of
communication, they imparted a message of comfort: that I was <i>never</i>
alone or without support. They had come
to remind me that my present difficulties were all part of the challenges which
I had agreed to face so that my soul could progress. They were my friends, and were supporting
me. I was filled with a wonderful sense
of love and belonging.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Then, their message delivered, they sped off again and I
also swiftly returned by the way I had come, until my inner self was back in my
body, and I found myself sitting up in bed, still holding my cup of tea. That proved to me that this powerful vision
had not been a mere dream. If I had
fallen asleep, even for a second, my fingers would have relaxed, letting the
cup drop and spilling the tea, as had happened on several previous occasions…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">So that, dear blog readers, is why I believe in angels -
because of my own experience! Some of
you may have read the above account already, in my book, <i>Joyful Witness</i>,
but I make no apology for repeating it, because I think it could be an
important source of comfort to anyone in deep distress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Jesus once said of a child, <i>“Never despise one of these
little ones; I tell you, they have their guardian angels in heaven.”</i> <i>(Matthew
18, v10)</i> He did not say that children’s guardian angels left them as the
children grew older!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">William Wordsworth gave this a lot of thought. As we leave childhood behind, we become
engrossed in material, rather than spiritual, matters, and are less open to
angelic messages. In his <i>Ode: Intimations
of Immortality, </i>he wrote: </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting …
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing Boy, but he
beholds the light, and whence it flows, he sees it in his joy … At length the
Man perceives it die away, and fade into the light of common day. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Another quotation which I have loved since my teen-age
years is from Francis Thompson’s poem <i>The Kingdom of God (In no Strange
Land): </i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>The angels keep their ancient places; Turn but a stone, and start a wing! 'Tis ye, 'tis your estranged faces that miss the many-splendoured thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I have found that even people who say they don’t
believe in angels are willing to make an exception when it comes to the Parking
Angel! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They agree that sometimes, in
desperation to find a parking place, they have muttered, “Oh, God, where am I
to park?” whereupon they see another car pull out from a nearby space, immediately
solving the problem!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, they
usually admit that this happened when they were on some kind of mission <b>to
help</b> somebody!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told my French
friend Pascal about this, he looked at me incredulously – almost pityingly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But a few weeks later, he wrote to me, saying
that he now believed in the Parking Angel!</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Try it for yourself, the next time you are looking for a
parking space when you are trying to help/visit someone in need!</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i></i><i></i><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"></span> </span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"></span><br />Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-39645847159905537082019-11-02T08:00:00.000+00:002019-11-02T08:00:09.619+00:00Spooky?
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spooky?</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last weekend I received two unexpected presents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is one of them: a coloured-in picture
from my church friend June.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZte3QG0yML-EWrinf45_CSSYsrDT3vpJWgpZTK-KkhCXH217ur_wBKTI7Xllg2IL7F4U_-Q-XXjMNaMbvgKoprOMMBlg3hmRop3wBoZMItBmQGJ4T1QkmTYp8panJs9ScHsM4j_pbpc8/s1600/June%2527s+Hallowe%2527en+witch%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1131" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZte3QG0yML-EWrinf45_CSSYsrDT3vpJWgpZTK-KkhCXH217ur_wBKTI7Xllg2IL7F4U_-Q-XXjMNaMbvgKoprOMMBlg3hmRop3wBoZMItBmQGJ4T1QkmTYp8panJs9ScHsM4j_pbpc8/s320/June%2527s+Hallowe%2527en+witch%2521.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On seeing her eagerly waving it at me, the minister
exclaimed, “Well done, June – there’s a remarkable similarity to Kathleen!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mmm… well, I hope not!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I must admit that I have a fondness for
bats!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On summer evenings I used to love
standing in the garden of my former home where, at twilight, the bats flew down
from our tall trees and flitted around, catching flies.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every Hallowe’en we would prepare for small visitors by
filling bowls with sweets and nuts, and placing apples in a basin of water,
ready for the ‘guisers’ to ‘dook’ for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One year, supplies nearly ran out when thirty-five ‘guisers’ turned up
in quick succession!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the
‘dooking’ and the handing out of sweets, they each had to earn their treats by
reciting a poem, singing a song or telling a joke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the children, including our three, loved
dressing up for Hallowe’en, trying to look as ‘spooky’ as possible! (Except the fairies!)</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I can remember an occasion when somebody exclaimed
“Ooh, that’s <b>spooky</b>!” when they caught sight of me <i>– even though I
was just wearing my ordinary clothes</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This amused me so much that I wrote the following account of what led up
to that startling moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here it is…</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spooky!</span></i></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You taught my son
at Carrick Academy, Mrs Bates”, said the new member of Ayr Town Twinning
Association, as we were introduced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh dear!” I thought, “how am I supposed to remember her
son?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s thirty years since I left
Carrick Academy to have our first baby!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But as soon as I heard her hyphenated surname (which I
shall abbreviate to G-W) I immediately remembered Neil and the concern I had
felt for him when he arrived in my class of thirteen-year-old boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did he have a double-barrelled
name<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but he also spoke with a posh
English accent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the pupils of
this comprehensive school in the small town of Maybole spoke ‘broad
Ayrshire’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would be almost certain
to mimic him, perhaps even bully him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But how wrong I was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a
week Neil had adopted the Ayrshire accent and had begun to use key words of the
local dialect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I asked Mrs G-W what had become of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and his brother had both found good jobs,
but, alas, both had inherited a kidney disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their mother, now a widow, frequently travelled to the south of England
to help the one who was on dialysis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
that reason, she was unlikely to be able to visit St Germain-en-Laye, Ayr’s
twin town near Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, having
heard good reports of its social events, she had decided to join the Ayr
association although she still lived in Maybole, ten miles away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One evening I was sitting beside her at a slide show of the
members’ recent visit to St Germain when she suddenly became violently ill,
vomiting all over her smart clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
presentation was stopped immediately, and an ambulance was sent for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once she was safely on board, I followed in
my car to the hospital.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We waited together in the A and E reception area until Mrs
G-W was admitted to a ward for overnight assessment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been given a clean nightgown, and her
stained outfit was now in a bag for removal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hoping to be sent home the next day, she asked me to go to Maybole in
the morning to fetch some clean clothes from her bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her next-door neighbour, who had a spare key,
would show me where to find them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The following morning, thanks to her directions, I managed
to find her house. The man next door was mowing his lawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stopped when I approached.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him about Mrs G-W’s dilemma and asked
him for her key.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, realising
that I was a complete stranger to him, I explained how I came to know her,
mentioning that I had once taught her son Neil, at Carrick Academy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh, in that case you may know my wife!” he exclaimed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She used to work in the school office.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I did not recognise her name however, so we concluded that
she must have joined the staff after I had left the school.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Just go straight into the house,” he went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’ll find her in the kitchen.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I entered, his wife was sitting at the kitchen table,
sipping coffee and peering intently at a black and white photograph in a
magazine, which I instantly realised was <i>Maybole Past and Present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>(I had a copy at home.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The photograph was of Carrick Academy staff,
taken just after my colleague, Bob, and I had become engaged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I pointed out the two of us standing
together, the lady turned pale.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I was just saying to myself ‘That’s Bob Bates – but who is
that standing beside him?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>when you
walked into the kitchen!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Ooh,
that’s so<b> spooky</b>!</i>”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t worry!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hastened to reassure her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was just a
case of ‘the right place at the right time!’”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For me too, of course, this powerful coincidence had been
very startling – but not alarmingly<i> ‘spooky’</i>! <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Instead, it filled me with delight,
reminding me of the happy time, over thirty years before, when Bob and I had
got together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again, I silently
thanked God for the comfort and joy which such so-called ‘coincidences’ can
bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nowadays, after experiencing so
many of them, I simply think of it being another example of our mysterious <i>Golden
Network… </i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoP-qRLPmZyOkicPrcvhZRj9smzpaxI1MS918Dc6oZ4P5_a0wrRweaAaiV7SiSmI73GUu61ig_FcSZoraakdzwO8QW1BsVoCGAUi0LBp-OUnebBlsfnOrD_FnYj87JmZ_ya6qLmQAvNEv4/s1600/Carrick+Academy+staff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1114" data-original-width="1352" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoP-qRLPmZyOkicPrcvhZRj9smzpaxI1MS918Dc6oZ4P5_a0wrRweaAaiV7SiSmI73GUu61ig_FcSZoraakdzwO8QW1BsVoCGAUi0LBp-OUnebBlsfnOrD_FnYj87JmZ_ya6qLmQAvNEv4/s320/Carrick+Academy+staff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(Here we are, in the second front row, second
and third on the right of the teacher with the bow tie.) </span></i><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-75511006948484186302019-10-26T08:00:00.000+01:002019-10-26T08:00:00.343+01:00The Washing Line
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Washing Line</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNamNOXDXsWgXuUN1S2ZOiNblirGBJR1IqZydBgZ7j7umzVyCNa149aQzLSA5M737IXsypt3jLiwk4UOywgm9BfzZnv8Nthf6EZN6K_Kzqg_9IRThkVmFsArZ03mzBdljLIhyphenhyphenqOYZyMkl3/s1600/The+Washingline%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNamNOXDXsWgXuUN1S2ZOiNblirGBJR1IqZydBgZ7j7umzVyCNa149aQzLSA5M737IXsypt3jLiwk4UOywgm9BfzZnv8Nthf6EZN6K_Kzqg_9IRThkVmFsArZ03mzBdljLIhyphenhyphenqOYZyMkl3/s320/The+Washingline%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What do you see dangling from this washing line?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pair of ankle socks, one pair of
knee-length socks, a pair of trousers and an all-in-one garment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Well, actually a pair of pyjamas, top and
trousers pinned together!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a
photograph of these items to illustrate this week’s topic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few days ago, I had the pleasure of chatting to a young
girl who was sitting next to me while her Gran (my friend) had gone off on
business for half an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing that
the girl, after spending her primary years at a small country school, had
recently started at a large secondary school, I asked her how she was getting
on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clutching her mobile phone, she looked up with a sad and
worried expression and replied “Not well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get panic
attacks and I’m getting treatment for anxiety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I try to meditate, but…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
voice trailed off miserably.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My heart went out to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Such a lovely sensitive-looking girl, only eleven or twelve years old,
who should be enjoying this new chapter in her life!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, alas, like many of her contemporaries,
she has been badly affected by the many negative aspects of our present day: constant
news of political uncertainty, violence, hatred and awful disasters, on radio,
TV and the internet, possible cyber-bullying via her precious mobile phone,
worry about the future –now including the effects of climate change…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As a retired teacher, I know how difficult it is at the
best of times for young teenagers to cope with the switch to secondary school,
in addition to the bewildering physical changes which puberty brings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How I wished I could help her!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Looking at her tense posture, her nervous fingering of her
phone, the way in which her left leg was placed over the right one with the
left foot turning restlessly round and round – seeing all these, I was suddenly
reminded of ‘<b><i>The Washing Line’</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is the title which I have given to a set of instructions which I
learned long ago at a conference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
have helped me to relax many times over the years whenever I have been under
stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, in the hope of helping the
young schoolgirl, I took her through these instructions, one by one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps they may be of use to you or a
friend, so here they are…</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></u></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Washing
Line</span></u></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Find a quiet place where you are unlikely to be disturbed
for twenty minutes or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Switch off
any device such as mobile phone, computer, TV, radio, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sit
upright on a comfortable chair, your back supported by a cushion if
necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Place your two feet flat on
the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rest your hands, palm side
down, on top of your thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try to
relax your shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Close your eyes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now begin to breathe slowly<i> <b>in</b></i> for a count of
five, with your lips closed then<b> <i>out</i> </b>for a count of five, with
your mouth slightly open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first you
may still feel tense as you breathe in, but aim to <i>release </i>this tension
every time you breathe out, through open lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Continue like this until you begin to feel relaxation descending into
your lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t worry if this takes
quite a few minutes, the first time you try it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just persist, perhaps managing to increase the count gradually from five
up to ten each time you breathe in and out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now for the Washing Line!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Concentrate first of all on your feet and ankles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>Visualise </b>them as a pair of ankle
socks dangling from the washing line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Continue breathing in and out, as before, until you can no longer feel
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now move your concentration up to your knees, and visualise
one pair of knee-length socks hanging loosely from the washing line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep breathing slowly in and out, as before,
until you can no longer feel your legs from the knee down.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then move up to your waist level, and visualise a pair of
trousers dangling from the washing line, until eventually your concentration is
limited to the upper half of your body.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pause.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine that
there is a little wheel spinning round inside you, just above your waist level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visualise putting a finger on it to slow it
down, until it is rotating at a <b><i>slow, steady</i></b> rate. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, as you breathe in and out, concentrate on releasing
the tension from your shoulders and the palms of your hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visualise an all-in-one garment hanging from
the washing line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let it dangle down in
the gentle breeze.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, when your body below you is completely relaxed,
concentrate on your head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, as you
breathe in and out, relax your jaws, then your cheekbones, then your forehead. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now imagine that there is a <i>little space</i> at the top
of your head, through which your mind can soar up into a beautiful, peaceful
place of your choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I chose a moonlit
garden; the young girl chose a sunny beach.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Take time to enjoy its beauty and its peace...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then think of something, however small, for
which you are thankful, and silently say “Thank you” to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Don’t worry if you find it difficult to
believe in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just say “Thank you”
anyway.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silently ask for help with your
problems.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once you have done that, it is now time to come back down
from your beautiful place, taking care to <b><i>close</i></b> the little space
at the top of your head (known as the ‘fontanelle’.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine that soothing golden oil is now being
poured into you, filling every part of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Silently, say “Thank you” again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Open your eyes.<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Twiddle your toes, and stretch your feet, legs, hands and
arms.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Get up and go!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XmyS0iAccfpyYzD99ch3zegtd6Rl8873vddc3yjXlq73BjjjbqTZzI7zhuFMLC4ixniL5f3ojLW2S7k9JVGaT5E5k1qG5nLXeOZkLhVMnXbIT8HO7yxcWGj_H1hyphenhyphenVuw7mSBJ6I8eAF2E/s1600/My+lady+in+the+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1600" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XmyS0iAccfpyYzD99ch3zegtd6Rl8873vddc3yjXlq73BjjjbqTZzI7zhuFMLC4ixniL5f3ojLW2S7k9JVGaT5E5k1qG5nLXeOZkLhVMnXbIT8HO7yxcWGj_H1hyphenhyphenVuw7mSBJ6I8eAF2E/s320/My+lady+in+the+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-89143416589302831142019-10-19T08:29:00.000+01:002019-10-19T08:29:57.451+01:00Protection Needed!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Protection
needed!</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After the shock of my father’s sudden death, followed by
the overwhelming realisation that loving contact can sometimes come to reassure
us from ‘beyond the veil’, I slowly regained my equilibrium – but now knew that
I needed <i>protection</i>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On<i> </i>the advice
of a friend who had had similar experiences, I began to say the Lord’s Prayer
at the start and the end of each day, concentrating especially on <i>‘Hallowed
be</i> <i>Thy name’</i>, <i>‘Deliver us from evil’</i> and <i>‘<b>Thine</b> is
the kingdom, the power and the glory’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>In
addition, I established a new routine of reading my Bible twice a day - first
thing in the morning before I got up and again at night when I went to bed<i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Plain Man’s</i> <i>Book of Prayers </i>by William
Barclay, the popular Scottish preacher, was also of great help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had not only a Biblical quotation but also
both a morning prayer and an evening prayer for each day of the month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This meant that I had to know which date and
day of the week we were at – something which previously, in my misery and
confusion, I had neither known nor cared about.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRORL6foCugEqrFfgaSNnAZzwcRfr1FAIk7ZEo8J039qyvvnJFJ94-TpZc0Mn8Us1l_70kcFjRVwRD7JrA_LdSmvdl3LZfcwjSuBSZfdd2DQDRRWStQArOwYbxhnr6i7Ix-jUfOeEXO5Cs/s1600/Bible%252C+prayers+and+cat%2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRORL6foCugEqrFfgaSNnAZzwcRfr1FAIk7ZEo8J039qyvvnJFJ94-TpZc0Mn8Us1l_70kcFjRVwRD7JrA_LdSmvdl3LZfcwjSuBSZfdd2DQDRRWStQArOwYbxhnr6i7Ix-jUfOeEXO5Cs/s320/Bible%252C+prayers+and+cat%2521.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As you can see from the photo, the Barclay book eventually
began to fall to pieces!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then
subscribed to <i>The Upper Room</i>, a pocket-sized book issued three times a
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each day has a Bible quotation
chosen by a reader, who then tells us why it is of special importance to
him/her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This little book has provided
me with help and spiritual support<i> </i>for almost fifty years!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- sometimes through days of great sorrow and
anguish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It can now be ordered online, at
<a href="http://www.brfonline.org.uk/">www.brfonline.org.uk</a>)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Did you notice the little sleeping cat in the
photograph?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put it beside my bed as a
reminder to relax, to ’let go and let God’.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But now, today, I have to admit that this week another
little cat <i>completely freaked</i> <i>me out! </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At breakfast on Wednesday I was idly scrolling
down through Facebook when I came across an irresistible item about a dear wee
kitten- and its reaction to a horror movie!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Its face was close up to the screen, its eyes moving faster and faster
from side to side as the film music got louder and more sinister…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, as the action was obviously reaching a
horrible climax, <b><i>a voice suddenly said my name!!</i></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Aghast and horrified, I hastily switched off my
Kindle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could that have
happened?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was this a new development in
Artificial Intelligence?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of ‘Alexa’,
of how my bank now offers ‘help’ from robots, of how companies get to know one’s
name and preferences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How had that
speaker come to know my name?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did
everyone who watched the kitten get their own name pronounced at the climax of
the horror film?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, I thought
indignantly, there must be many other viewers, including innocent children,
feeling scared out of their wits!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
this was meant to be a pre-Halloween joke?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Is there any form of protection available, perhaps from a company such
as Norton, from this new<i> personalised</i> addition to a horror movie?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These thoughts troubled me all morning as I went shopping in
the town centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still feeling shaky, I
decided to treat myself to lunch in a cafeteria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked a young waiter if he or any of his
colleagues knew of any such recent development in AI which had enabled someone
to say my name aloud as I watched an item on Facebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young man replied that he was not aware
of any such thing, but that he understood my alarm and would try to find an explanation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Fortunately, the cafeteria was almost empty
just then!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He soon came back, brandishing his smart phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I ‘googled’ <i>kitten </i>and <i>horror
movie</i>, and I got an article on the <i>Daily Mail</i> website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, the cat had been watching <i>Psycho.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scary action takes place at the Bates’
Motel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The climax comes when the young
woman discovers the corpse of the evil Norman Bates’s mother in a rocking
chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s why the voice you heard
said “<i>Mrs Bates</i>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just a coincidence
that it happens to be your name too!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
laughed at this simple explanation, especially when I told him that I write
about coincidences!</span><br />
<br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">…</span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There must be many other women known by the name ‘Mrs Bates’
who could be freaked out as I had been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back at home I ‘googled’ <i>Psycho</i> and <i>Mrs Bates</i>, and saw the
crucial moment in the original film when the young woman screams in horror on seeing
Norman’s mother’s corpse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to
say, there was no over-voice politely announcing, “Mrs Bates”! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What surprised and intrigued me next was that when I told
some friends about my freaky experience, they did not laugh, but said somewhat
nervously that they thought such a personalising trick was very likely possible
now, given the rapid advances in Artificial Intelligence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is very alarming to think that there might
be people “out there”, as we say,(referring to cyber space), who might not only
want to use AI as a means of stealing our money, but also as a means of destroying
our mental health, for their own purposes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps it is time for humans to stop watching horror films, and avoid wandering
<i>thoughtlessly </i>around the Internet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are all vulnerable.</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We
need protection!</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As usual, I turn to the Bible for spiritual comfort, and
look up words from the letter written to the Romans by Paul, whose supernatural
encounter with the resurrected Jesus completely changed his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Romans 8, verses 38, 39)</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘In spite of all, overwhelming victory is ours
through him who loved us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For I am
convinced that there is nothing in death or life, in the realm of spirits or
superhuman powers, in the world as it is or the world as it shall be, in the
forces of the universe, in heights or depths – nothing in all creation that can
separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’</span></i><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></i></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-55788992613429292632019-10-12T08:00:00.000+01:002019-10-12T08:47:46.246+01:00Lost, then Found<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lost,
then Found</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6eI8O9ei7whWjj-tieAuClapVS1RBjHmwD25kpxfCNq4sgCWVfFd5HB4mIqx7r99Fat0LkKFBv2iCkhd26WuNGFxJOcdO4h8xXTby6rV_BwbNqxe9wK2xySYP0U6hhI6FeL_n93YXb2yW/s1600/PhotoScan+%252842%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1600" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6eI8O9ei7whWjj-tieAuClapVS1RBjHmwD25kpxfCNq4sgCWVfFd5HB4mIqx7r99Fat0LkKFBv2iCkhd26WuNGFxJOcdO4h8xXTby6rV_BwbNqxe9wK2xySYP0U6hhI6FeL_n93YXb2yW/s320/PhotoScan+%252842%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Your trouble, Mrs Bates, is that you have a Dependent
Personality,” declared the psychiatrist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“<i>And</i>”, he added, “you probably read too many women’s
magazines.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stared at him in angry
disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He just doesn’t <i>get </i>it”
I thought.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After my father’s sudden death, followed by the frightening
growing awareness of possible psychic connections between the two sides of ‘the
veil’, my mental and spiritual turmoil had become unbearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had lost my former sense of identity and
felt like a strange restless zombie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>During the day I somehow managed to look after my family and attend to the
housekeeping, but once the children were in bed the huge unanswered questions
tormented me continuously: <i>Where is Dad now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What happens after death? Where is God in all this mess?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always been told not to ‘dabble’ in
Spiritualism – so am I wicked to be having these thoughts?</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I knew of nobody who could help me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My kind minister sympathised but just
suggested that I should see a doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Any talk about death seemed to be taboo in polite company!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob tried his best to soothe and comfort me,
but he too was at a loss for answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One evening when he was out at a meeting, I found it
totally impossible to sit still and watch the television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I roamed restlessly into the kitchen – and
spied a sharp knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked down at my
wrists…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Temptation… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course, I did <b>not</b> want to abandon my beloved family – but, now at the
end of my tether, I was simply <i>desperate for this agony to STOP…</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Horrified, I made my trembling way to the telephone and
dialled my mother’s number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as
she heard my distraught voice, she told me that she would come immediately, and
that meanwhile I was to put on the kettle for a cup of tea, and look out some
biscuits! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How blessed I was to
have such a practical down-to-earth mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To this day I still thank God for her pragmatic help that evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She herself had suffered a nervous breakdown
after losing a baby boy two years before I was born – but had come through it,
and remembered how important<b> rest</b> was, plus little <b>manual tasks.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We agreed that I urgently needed <b>medical help</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The next day I managed to get an appointment with my
doctor, who prescribed a course of tranquillisers and arranged for me to have
some sessions with the afore-mentioned psychiatrist, Dr M.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, it soon became clear that Dr M did
not wish to engage in any talk about paranormal experiences or religious faith.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After telling him about the strange thud at the door after
my father’s sudden death, I described two other inexplicable occurrences which
Bob and I had experienced, separately, four years before, at the birth of our
first baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having had little or no
dealing with new-born babies, I expected that ours would be a small, red, squawking
creature!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, when Sally was placed
on my stomach only a few minutes after her birth, she was pale and composed,and
stared straight into my eyes, as if to say, “Well, hello, here I am!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half an hour later, when Bob arrived at the
hospital, she did exactly the same to him, as a nurse held her up for him to
see for the first time. This had filled us full of wonder! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>(</i>Here she is, still keeping an eye on her Daddy!)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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</span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLseAd6pVU_eArzjM6uaha1UbzvFtbEiWbraRdYN7P6CoiYrMni8teurJeIjk1qL3qL_ooSY_OV0WU9yRZqJdUO9bLyGh_dv-5C0TpTOtJpHUeiq8ulNp60EgesEpYlyf6YOmfDtQ0QGxH/s1600/FB_IMG_1570808516906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="924" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLseAd6pVU_eArzjM6uaha1UbzvFtbEiWbraRdYN7P6CoiYrMni8teurJeIjk1qL3qL_ooSY_OV0WU9yRZqJdUO9bLyGh_dv-5C0TpTOtJpHUeiq8ulNp60EgesEpYlyf6YOmfDtQ0QGxH/s320/FB_IMG_1570808516906.jpg" width="217" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i></i><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh, don’t be silly!” exclaimed Dr M.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You wouldn’t feel like that if you were a
mother of six, having her seventh baby in a one-room Glasgow tenement flat!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What had that to do with anything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such a crassly insensitive response confirmed
my suspicion that Dr M. and I were on completely different wave lengths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this time, I was feeling a little more
like myself, thanks to the tranquillisers which had allowed me to sleep at
nights. So, my anger at Dr M. had a<i> positive</i> effect! I now felt
independent<i> </i>of him and ready to try to cope on my own, without any
psychiatric ‘help’.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then one morning, as I was hanging out the washing, I
suddenly realised with joy that I could now <i>believe </i>the Gospel story of
Jesus’ resurrection!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not because a
preacher in a pulpit had told me to, not because I wanted to be a dutiful
church member, but because of <i>my own experience</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At long last I had found someone – Jesus
Christ – who understood about life after death! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Full of relief and
gladness, I resolved to re-read the Gospels (the ‘Good News’) in this new
light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noted that in the story of the
rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16, verses19-31), Jesus had included the possibility
of someone returning from the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had not said that this was evil, but had simply emphasised that such a psychic
event was not of any <i>spiritual </i>value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All that really mattered was to: <b><i>’Love God with all your heart,
soul, mind and</i></b> <b><i>strength, and your neighbour as yourself.</i></b> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus also said: <b><i>‘Blessed are those who know their
need of God. The kingdom of</i></b><i> <b>Heaven is theirs.</b></i><b>’</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Matthew 5, verse 3)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, my desperate need of God – my ‘Dependent Personality’ –
far from being a negative trait, was a positive asset!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I thought, if I occasionally happened to
be aware of something that others might call ‘paranormal’, well, so be it! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most important things were to trust in God
and to pray – remembering especially ‘<i>Thy will</i> <i>be done’</i> and <i>‘Deliver
us from evil’.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gradually, gradually, I emerged from ‘the valley of the
shadow of death’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then<i> </i>that
I began to notice startling coincidences, which brought me comfort, joy – and laughter!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo gratias</span></i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-23618382583438262282019-10-05T08:00:00.000+01:002019-10-05T08:00:11.464+01:00Someone at the Door
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone
at the Door</span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone
came</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
<i>knocking at my wee small door.</i></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone
came knocking, I’m sure-sure-sure. </span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I
listened, I opened, I looked to left and right,</span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But
nought there was a-stirring in the still dark night.</span></i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So begins a poem by Walter de la Mare which was one of the
first I memorised as a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother
composed a little tune for it, and we used to enjoy singing it together.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fourteen years after the life-changing incident described
in my last blog post, <i>A Startling Discovery</i>, I had cause to remember
those words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By then I was thirty years
old, happily married to Bob, with two lovely little daughters.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One Sunday morning in April we had just arrived home after
visiting Bob’s mother and father when the telephone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bob answered it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking shocked, he turned to me and said
“It’s your mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your father has just
died”.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I rushed over to my parents’ house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I entered the living-room I saw the
familiar sight of the balding top of my father’s head above the high back of
his armchair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I was confronted
by the pale silent presence of Death on that beloved face…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My mother told me what had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On his return from the Sunday evening church
service, he had sat down for a cup of tea, about to tell her a piece of local
news, when he had suddenly given a gasp and died of a massive heart attack.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It seemed to me that a terrible subtraction sum had been
made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There in front of me was his body
– but minus his spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This body,
familiar as it was, was not my Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was meaningless without his personality, his <i>essence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Where was his spirit now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>That I could no longer communicate with
him felt like torture.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>He and I had been very close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A street photographer took this photo of us
on holiday in Rothesay when I was five.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(My mother is in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She didn’t feel well enough dressed to be in the picture!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SzaooatqBazUMXl2uzl2lb-P4KHJ_q7GcEwASG1HgbBA5yH7sqlyZSnXDImXNYnNdZnmcokVwQFredhg7An84cYIJNdMLtSkcPEzt1VKajCHVwPVwrYBozZKKFGIB2GPFrAKotmGyYl6/s1600/Ka+and+her+Daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="738" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SzaooatqBazUMXl2uzl2lb-P4KHJ_q7GcEwASG1HgbBA5yH7sqlyZSnXDImXNYnNdZnmcokVwQFredhg7An84cYIJNdMLtSkcPEzt1VKajCHVwPVwrYBozZKKFGIB2GPFrAKotmGyYl6/s320/Ka+and+her+Daddy.jpg" width="299" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every Sunday morning the two of us would walk together to
church, leaving Mum in peace to cook the Sunday roast!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(She preferred to attend the quiet evening
service.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before the children left to go
to Sunday School, I loved to hear my father singing the bass part of each hymn.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He instilled in me a great love of
music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He played the piano and sang in a
choir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was seven, he took me to
my first orchestral concert – the SNO conducted by Walter Susskind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Sunday afternoons we would often set out
together on what he jokingly called our ‘Sunday Walk’ – our aim being to travel
on as many different kinds of transport as possible! – a bus, a tram, the
Underground, and (best of all) the Govan ferry across the River Clyde.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A chartered accountant, he worked hard to support my
mother, my younger sister, Freda, and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Freda was born in Ayr after we moved there from Glasgow when I was
eight.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quiet and calm, but with a good
sense of humour, he was our rock on whom we all depended – something we realised
only too well after his death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, in the midst of my shock and grief, a strange,
unfamiliar worry tormented me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he <i>know</i>
that he had suddenly passed on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was
there anyone there to receive him, to comfort him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mother, my Gran, for example?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Totally unprepared for the traumatic suddenness of this
parting, I did not know how to react.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
the funeral day and for the next two months I struggled to maintain an air of
composure, while inwardly I battled with the huge questions which now confronted
me: Where does the spirit go after death?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Will we meet our loved ones again some day? <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where is God in all of this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At home I tried to appear cheerful and normal for the sake
of Bob and our two small daughters, not allowing myself to shed a single tear –
but all the while the little girl inside me was silently sobbing, ‘Oh, Daddy …
Daddy!’<i></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All this was difficult enough to cope with, but something
even more mind-blowing was to follow. One night, about six weeks after the
funeral, Bob and I were just settling down in bed when we were startled by a
loud thud at our front door.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Someone’s trying to break in!” we exclaimed, sitting up in
alarm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what burglar would make such
a loud noise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounded as if he had
made a rush at the door, trying to force it open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hastily we reached for our clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was trembling with fright.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But suddenly something strange happened. A wonderful sense
of peace and reassurance enveloped both of us simultaneously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puzzled, we stared at one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, we knew there was nothing to worry
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continued dressing, but less
hurriedly, then made our way to the front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There was not the slightest sign of any unwelcome visitor, nor any
damage to the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked to left
and right, but both garden and street were silent, deserted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet we had <i>both</i> heard that sudden
loud noise, just before the strange calm had descended on us!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whatever could it all mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Troubled, I began to wonder if maybe, just <i>maybe,</i> it could
possibly have been my father, trying to reassure us that all was well with
him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That thud on the front door was the
sound which, in the month before his death, had announced his arrival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because the newly-painted door had tended to
stick, he would thud his shoulder against it and give it a strong shove in
order to open it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few mornings later my mother phoned me, in a considerable
state of agitation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’ll have to phone the police for me!” she said
urgently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Last night an intruder was at
the back door, ringing the doorbell!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I felt my hair stand on end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being of a nervous disposition, Mum had been
in the habit of barricading herself in whenever Dad was out at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both front and back doors had a lock, bolts
and a chain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were two different
doorbells – another safety precaution, so that she could tell whether the
caller was a stranger at the front door, or Dad, who always used the back door
after parking the car at the rear of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i>He was the only person who ever rang the back doorbell</i>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You must just have had a bad dream”, I replied as
soothingly as I could – trying to control my own alarm – “In any case, what
kind of burglar would announce his presence by politely ringing the
doorbell?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That worked for a couple of
days - until the same thing happened again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I faced a dilemma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was I to do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phone the
police, as she requested – but tell them what, exactly?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remembering that she always steered clear of
any talk of a possible after-life, I could not risk frightening her by
suggesting that these might have been paranormal experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would have been too unkind, especially
now that she was all alone at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
just had to continue my attempts to try to soothe her.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few days later I was bending down, tying four-year-old
Sally’s pixie hood under her chin when she suddenly came out with “I’m dead, I’m
dead, I’m really dead!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>then skipped off
out into the garden!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I straightened up,
looking after her in amazement, but she was busy playing with a toy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She obviously had no idea of the significance
of the words she had just uttered…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Some years later she told me casually that she had seen her Grandpa after
his death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had peeped out from behind
a door, playing ‘Keek-a-boo!’ with her, as he had done ever since she was a
baby.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By now I felt close to breaking point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Day and night, I battled with huge questions
concerning life and death, until I was in a state of total nervous exhaustion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my shock and grief had now been added the
primitive fear of an invisible dimension of spirit!</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dear blog reader, what would you do in such
circumstances?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would you expect to
happen next?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What advice would you give
me?</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What actually <i>did</i> happen is described in Chapter 4
of my book <i>Joyful Witness</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t have a copy, here are two clues! – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the first is the title of the book; the second
is the title of that Chapter: <i>Reborn</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Suffice it to say here that over the next few months, the
words of the Lord’s Prayer became more and more precious to me, as did the 23<sup>rd</sup>
Psalm, especially verse 4… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34Ye7Uf5wemw_HHEpeZ0BGk4ufR3YRx22EVXKtuDVe3IxTkTWH6xvUKOuhpcjm69KJDNoCd8zoad5ZtMFqJ_kSwlnBSCmybX5-dtsNyMa7rglI1zLDFxIKp7NELx_gg53NsnRpoW1VWlA/s1600/A+dark+valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="795" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34Ye7Uf5wemw_HHEpeZ0BGk4ufR3YRx22EVXKtuDVe3IxTkTWH6xvUKOuhpcjm69KJDNoCd8zoad5ZtMFqJ_kSwlnBSCmybX5-dtsNyMa7rglI1zLDFxIKp7NELx_gg53NsnRpoW1VWlA/s320/A+dark+valley.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deo
gratias</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6485889797653807498.post-25306572872592486282019-09-28T08:00:00.000+01:002019-09-28T08:00:07.916+01:00A Startling Discovery<b></b><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>A Startling Discovery</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><b></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, Gilbert and Sullivan!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their ‘light operas’ were the delight of my teenage years!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This cover of a G&S songbook represents
two of them: <i>The Yeomen of the Guard</i> and <i>The Mikado.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVu2aDH9aZIUwggBHD9782HirTIV6SKop8OnL8AjA90zqff5dH5hNYdjJgmxE7-kdIosYVAF93EvaDAIFGyoBxTyuWHsrak4GWnyODCaO-jd3m10IXMg06vDdfm6NyIyth6GrzpfOZgTzR/s1600/Gilbert+and+Sullivan+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVu2aDH9aZIUwggBHD9782HirTIV6SKop8OnL8AjA90zqff5dH5hNYdjJgmxE7-kdIosYVAF93EvaDAIFGyoBxTyuWHsrak4GWnyODCaO-jd3m10IXMg06vDdfm6NyIyth6GrzpfOZgTzR/s320/Gilbert+and+Sullivan+%25282%2529.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nowadays schools have a wide range of musicals to choose
from – <i>Cats, Les</i> <i>Miserables,</i> etc. – but back then it was only a
question of <i>which</i> G&S opera we would perform.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They mostly had the same witty format: a
young couple who fall in love, are kept apart, then are reunited; a ridiculous
central character who sings a very fast amusing ‘patter song’; and a
delightfully complicated plot which is finally unravelled to produce a happy
ending for everybody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every summer term, once the important March exams were
safely past, my school would prepare to present another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several different departments were involved:
the music department, of course, but also the art and technical departments who
oversaw the design and production of the scenery, and the domestic science
department who took care of the costumes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">During my first year at this secondary school, aged twelve,
I used to stand outside the music room at the end of lunchtime, enthralled by
the lively four-part singing of the senior pupils as they rehearsed for the
next opera. I waited eagerly for the bell to ring at the start of afternoon
classes, because then the door would open and out would stream my heroes and
heroines!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when I reached the age of
sixteen, I was thrilled to become a member of the chorus of <i>The Pirates of
Penzance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Now at last I could
participate in the lunchtime rehearsals, enjoying Gilbert’s witty text and
Sullivan’s lovely melodies, especially the inevitable (somewhat soppy) love
song for the young couple – very suitable for someone like myself, in love for
the first time! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Excitement rose as the week of the three stage performances
drew nearer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scenery was put up in
the Town Hall and the costumes arrived from the theatre suppliers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the day of the Dress Rehearsal a
photographer arrived to take a photograph of the entire cast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How glamorous we chorus girls felt in our long
flouncy dresses and large bonnets!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(That’s me in the second row, second from the right.) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5OEvWL2CSGAkODnTePW6cPd3n8cFC9UgyMEbYBK-azINyG5h3_dcUJ2CjfFxO_FrIFtf1jBECBaN2NIAnUki6pXcTQmxst4uTmZ1VkuwvWORVkJt0LaKvuLG1q3hZvtvultBHQzaMpXjW/s1600/PhotoScan+%252828%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1600" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5OEvWL2CSGAkODnTePW6cPd3n8cFC9UgyMEbYBK-azINyG5h3_dcUJ2CjfFxO_FrIFtf1jBECBaN2NIAnUki6pXcTQmxst4uTmZ1VkuwvWORVkJt0LaKvuLG1q3hZvtvultBHQzaMpXjW/s640/PhotoScan+%252828%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The first public performance went well, and we all felt
exhilarated. My parents had bought tickets for the second night and so,
confident that they would enjoy it, I looked forward to performing on stage in
front of them.</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Little did I know that my life was going to
change for ever that night!</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">During the opening performance I had barely noticed the
bright spotlights between me and the unseen people in the darkened hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But now, knowing that my parents were
present, I became only too vividly, <i>frighteningly</i> aware of being looked
at by invisible people ‘somewhere out there’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By the end of the first chorus I was in a state of panic, desperate for
the end of Act One.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My delight in the
performance had been completely destroyed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At long last we reached the Interval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as we had left the stage I hurried
away on my own towards the back of the building, where I found a quiet place,
and sat down, holding my head in my hands.</span><br />
<i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>But suddenly I was high above, at ceiling level, looking
down at my physical self!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i> </i> <i> </i> </span>An
out-of-the-body experience!</span><br />
<i></i><i></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This lasted only a minute or so, after which my spirit
seemed to return to my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But by then
I was terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My solar plexus felt
unusually sensitive, so, convinced that this had been the place from which my
spirit had left, I clutched my stomach in order to prevent it from escaping
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was afraid to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Returning to the stage for Act Two was out of
the question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My poor mother and father, alarmed at my absence, could no
longer enjoy the show! I sat, shaking with fear, until, on hearing the final
applause from the audience, I summoned up enough courage to go in search of them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As soon as we arrived home I rushed to my bed and lay down,
still holding the area of my solar plexus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the next few days I remained there, unable to explain to my mother
what was wrong with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Worried</span>, she
sent for the doctor, who quietly asked if I had a boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He obviously suspected that I was pregnant! -
but I assured him that this was not possible, and that, in any case, my
distress was caused by something completely different, something much more than
mere ‘stage fright’ (which I had already had to deal with at the recent Music
Festival).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puzzled, he could only
suggest a few days bed rest – which, indeed, did turn out to be the best
advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(i.e. literally “<i>just what
the doctor ordered</i>”!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I gradually relaxed, I realised that for the past few
months I had been in a perpetual state of ‘get up and go’, preparing for my
Higher exams, performing in seven different classes at the Music Festival, then rushing out to rehearsals for <i>The Pirates</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, I had been confused by an on/off
romance with my boyfriend, who was about to leave school – and possibly me, as
well!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All in all, my body had reached a
state of ‘nervous exhaustion’, - something which I now knew that I would have
to try to avoid in future.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But now I also had <i>a startling discovery</i> to ponder over. When I looked at my reflection in a mirror, there was something else to think about apart from "Is my hair okay? Is that a plook (pimple) on my nose? Have I put on weight? Does that colour suit me? Will he like what I'm wearing today?" (!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I now thought of my body as the <i>container</i> for my<i> spirit</i>, which was the <i>essence</i> of me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two separate entities! Yes, I had to take care of my body, but it was just as important to look after my spirit. Otherwise I couldn't function properly!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another new thought: a mirror wasn't necessary to review the state of my spirit <i>- </i>in fact, a<i> </i>mirror would be a distraction! All I needed to do was close my eyes and think. Or, at times of anxiety, close my eyes, think and<b> pray. </b>This I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b></b><b></b><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gradually I regained my equilibrium and resumed my normal activities with my friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout the recovery process I was soothed and strengthened by the first three verses of the 23rd Psalm, which I had been encouraged to memorise at Sunday School years before, and which I still love to this day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i></i><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall want nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, and leads me beside the waters of peace. He renews life within me,<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> and for his name's sake guides me in the right path.'</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I commend them to you...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Deo gratias</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Kathleen Bateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02410108700824821927noreply@blogger.com3