Song of September

It's a song of snow, and floods; of new stories; of miracles and mundane things; birthdays and baking..Above all, it is a song of a God who is completely involved in our lives, who is beneath and above, interwoven in our daily fabric, so much part of us we forget He is there - close as breath, more precious. And in spring-time, the Creator God is so clearly visible: a shimmer of green, a riot of pink blossom, everywhere a great shout of praise and life.

When the bird sings

"There are the mud-flowers of dialect

And the immortelles of perfect pitch

And that moment when the bird sings very close

To the music of what happens." (Seamus Heaney, "Song")

Clearly, today's "what happens" is Spring in all its golden warmth. A week ago, floods and snow; today, glorious sunshine. The birds are thrilling to its touch: every bush and tree is alive with twitter and song, as if some kind of liquid energy has been uncorked and cannot be contained. My whole morning has been framed and infused and delighted by robin-song. Drawn out by his ceaseless invitation, I was rewarded by a flash of orange wings, as he changed "stage" from one tree to another.

Spring has arrived; we are revived.

Seamus Heaney

This great and wonderful poet* died last week. The news caused me to return to some of my favourite poems of his. I was going to share some with my Saturday morning students, but they are mostly primary-school kids, and the level of language and the very Irish contexts seemed too difficult. Perhaps I should have read some anyway - poetry has a way of reaching the heart, bypassing word-for-word understanding!

In one of his most well-known poems, "Digging", Heaney is sitting writing while listening to his elderly father digging in the garden outside his window. His father worked at digging potatoes and cutting turf when Heaney was a boy. In the closing verses, he admires his father's skill, and affirms his own, very different one:

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.


Try some "digging" of your own: capture a childhood memory on paper, or reaffirm one of your skills...If you've no-one else to tell it to, tell me!

*I hate it when I'm confronted with a name whose pronounciation I'm unsure of: his name is "Shame-us Hee-nee".

Tree...

A wire baobab graces the desk. Its sturdy trunk extends upwards into short, perfect branches. The artist has fashioned it so that the strands forming the "shell" of the trunk become the branches. Like the living tree, it is all of one piece; an organic form. 

Tonight I had a picture of how my tree can become my daily inspiration and organiser. Steven Covey uses the visual aid of "placing the rocks in the jar" to describe setting priorities. Place the rocks - the vital things - first, and you can fit in all the others too. The picture I had was of hearts or leaves, each with a priority written on it. These could be hung on the tree - placed in the jar - daily, or weekly... I visualize thin wooden painted shapes; but maybe I will begin with cardboard, or else I won't get started... 

I even have a name for it: Priori-Tree.

(If this idea goes global, remember you read it here first!)

For Kathy

How many ways can you say, "Hello, boys!"?  The variety might seem endless, and include a number of great movie scenes: mob boss greets muscle-men who have yet again failed to nail the hero; same hero surprises said muscle-men in final show-down; bar-lady addresses regulars (add "tiredly" or "sultrily" according to your preference)...I'm sure you can add many more.
In the real world - my real world - "Hello, boys!" is a greeting I often hear directed at my two sons. Grannies and granddads use it; Dad uses it; I use it myself. Just yesterday, we heard it, as the two boys and I arrived (late!) at church. As we moved up the path, we encountered a man pushing a wheelchair. The greeting, "Hello, boys!" came from the lady in the wheelchair; and it was only later, when I thought about how natural and normal it sounded, that I was moved to tears.
The words came from a dear friend who had been in hospital for two months after a stroke; a friend who has been in and out of "reality" for all that time. So "confused" had she been that all but a very few visitors were kept away; and now, here she was, about to enter a hall full of people, and her precious mind making the connection to these two young whirligigs she hadn't seen in months: "Hello, boys!"

I was so glad of that serendipity: the blessing of meeting Kathy as she arrived at church after such a long absence. A few minutes later, I drove away from church again, off home to complete some work while the boys went to their classes. The irony of it hit me: Kathy had just arrived, and here I was, rushing away. What had it cost Kathy and her husband to get to the meeting that morning? Why was I giving up that precious thing, the fellowship of the saints, to attend to the tyranny of the urgent? I could rationalize it in many ways; but I realized that such things must not be lightly reasoned away. For who knows when we may next be able to enjoy them?

Family

Returning a wooden statue to "his family": this was why we journeyed to Franschhoek last week, an hour's driver over a mountain pass and through winelands. The carved statue, about 60cm tall, belonged to my friend Elizabeth. As she is hoping to move to America, she decided to return the "man" to the artist's family - cousins of hers who run a pottery and gallery in Franschhoek. We were welcomed into their historic home, with the gallery downstairs and very old house upstairs, full of beautiful artworks. Paintings, objects, furniture, pottery - each had its place and complemented the beautiful old building.

Another "family occasion" happened last night, when our church family gathered to celebrate the 60th birthday of a friend. Gary has been our lead elder/ pastor for many years, and the team devised a musical tribute to him, using a timeline of his own life. It was excellent - such talented singers and musicians! - and demonstrated community at work in a brilliant way.

On Friday the boys and I were part of an even wider community: that of the City of Cape Town. We went to Sea Point, had tea with our friend Kevin, and then took the Red Bus sight-seeing tour of the city. The weather was perfect - no-one needed their jackets, leaving some fellow passengers rather over-dressed! They had obviously been warned about the city's fickle weather... On the way to catch our bus we strolled through the Green Point Park. This place made my heart sing: it is a thoughtfully designed green space, linking two areas of the city, providing acres of play-areas, beautiful granite water-fountains, areas of open water, and a wide boulevard for cycling or walking. There is a bio-diversity garden, a labyrinth, a water-wheel...and space for everyone. If you need more, there is the backdrop of a golf-course, the soccer stadium, Signal Hill, and of course, Table Mountain. Hope you can join us one day...

Home Office

My mind is full of gorgeous pictures of home offices, from bright orange and contemporary, to clean white and utilitarian, to booklined and traditional...I have discovered a site called www.houzz.com, and while the spelling is irritating, the site itself is inspiring. I have started two "ideabooks" as they call them, and could quite happily stay up all night browsing photos and finding ideas...

And then my thoughts turn to more sombre things, such as a friend still in hospital after a stroke; my nephew who, it seems, has not outgrown his epilepsy, despite our high hopes...My emotional tank is drained by these thoughts, and by the constant refereeing between two small boys who have been on holiday together for too long.
I long to just lose myself in the pleasure of design and beauty and inspiration; and am thankful for the few half-hours when I can indeed do so.
(By the way: the bathroom has finally been painted, for the SECOND time (the first failed...). It is clean, bright, and white.)