Time stands still

 Hello! Sending you all lots of love from Northern Ireland, where nothing much changes just as everything changes, as usual. Time has stood still here, in the Land of the Kitchen. I had noticed that the battery in the clock had died, but I decided to do absolutely nothing about it, and haven't let anyone do anything about it either.

A quarter to four is such a lovely time in the afternoon - just in from school, too early to make dinner, the potential of evening aspirations ahead (even though they generally come to nothing). I'm quite happy to stop the clock right there!

I suppose, post-Covid and mid-war and (unknown prefix) Protocol, I've tried to stop the clock too. Life still just boils down, as far as possible, to school, home, and a wee swim. And thankfully at the bottom of the hill, if you catch the tide, it's always Lough o'clock.

So, dear bloggers, on your gentle path into summer, may it always be a quarter to four, or _____ * o'clock.

Mags x

* blank for your own joy

Lent 3

 

I have a friend who shared a story on facebook, and now I'm noticing letters all over the house.

The story was about a little girl who is found repeating the alphabet but the way she is saying it sounds like prayer,

And the person, maybe her mum or somebody else in the house, asks why she's praying the alphabet.

Then the girl explains that she doesn't know what to pray, so she has decided to pray the alphabet and let God work out the words.

Which sounds like a genius plan to me this Lent, and a little bit like Romans 8:26. And now I'm noticing letters all over the house, and the words that they get formed into, somehow, magically, wondrously!

High Lands

 I didn't post my photos of half-term in Scotland with Catherine and then Jacqueline, my oldest and my newest friends. I was still warming up for a while and then the world broke. But here are some remembered moments of high places and wide places in case you need to look at something different this weekend. And chickens! (And thank you - Prince Charming is much better and back at work. We are very grateful x)

Covid 1

Prince Charming has just emerged from his turret after eleven days of either Omicron or BA.2, who knows anymore? He doesn't have hair long enough to get him down from the window, and the only succour from his princess in shining armour was an occasional tray at the door. He had to shield in the first Lockdown, so we are immensely thankful that pain and tiredness were as serious as it got.

Downstairs life went on, with everything pared back to the bare minimum. Which is lovely enough when the bare minimum still involves heat and light and food and water and quietness on tap. I was chatting to a girl in school today about the news and about where she found her hope. We both agreed that tea is often enough.

You could get annoyed, I suppose, that the best a son could do was your school water flask when a friend leaves you flowers. But then again, here we all are together and the best that we can do at any given moment is all there is, and there's such joy in knowing that you've been given the best that someone can do.

Praying that our Ukranian brothers and sisters will be blessed with the best that friends and families and kind strangers and generous hosts all over Europe can do x
 

Shadows

Oh dear. So, to clarify, I got to Scotland (where it was really very cold!) and got back, and ended up covering for our sixth form study supervisor for two weeks which annoyed my Head of Department, and war broke out in Europe? And Lent started.

I opened my Bible randomly this week because I was feeling so adrift. Joel 2 with its startlingly modern description of an army moving with devastation through a land. But also with its startlingly Lenten call to return. My boys have me signed up to the YouVersion Bible app that sends me a verse a day, and today it was from Joel 2 too. So, I'm going to sit in Joel 2 for a while longer, with fasting (from black tea) and weeping and mourning.

I've had John Donne's words in my head all these awful days. I've shared them before, and I hope he wouldn't mind if I borrow them again.

No Man Is an Island

No man is an island,

Entire of itself;

Every man is a piece of the continent, 

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less,

As well as if a promontory were:

As well as if a manor of thy friend's

Or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee.

https://allpoetry.com/No-man-is-an-island

A game in two

We are in the Mourne mountains for a few days over half-term. Weather-wise today has definitely been a game in two halves! I have only once in my life been as wet in the hills as we all got today. And that first time was a New Year's Day, not the middle of pretend Spring!

Matt and I turned back and let the tallest and the youngest plough on for a spot of caving. And then as soon as we parted ways, the sun came out to stay!

I thought I'd be here until Wednesday which would give me time to wash and dry all my walking gear before heading to Scotland to stay with two friends, but then a weather warning of strong winds was published and all my outgoing plans fell into disarray.

So in fact I leave tomorrow to fly to an airport still quite far from where I want to be, to catch a train to a town closer to where I want to be, to catch another train to a smaller town much closer to where I want to be, and there, hopefully, will be a friendly face to gather me up!

This will be my first time in an airplane since these times of plague, and Northern Ireland is lifting all its restrictions tomorrow. For a convert to reclusivity, this is a stretch. Thus far x

 

Arboreally ironic

 No, I'm not sure if that is a word either. I'm running out of words, and we're not even into double digits of February. Today's word was 'arboreal' and I knew in my mind that I wanted it to be all about Psalm 1: planted by streams of water, bearing fruit wherever appropriate. But in the back of my mind was the growing panic that after tomorrow, there are only two words on the list (except for one that I'm saving for half-term). 

So, there I was earlier, doodling away about putting my roots down deep into words, knowing fine rightly that I haven't read a thing since January and you can't drink from an empty cup. Isn't that the expression? If somebody has a good word for that, do let me know tout de suite!

So, I am somewhat abashed as I trail upstairs to bed now. And I am taking my Bible and 'Leaving for America' with me. So far in 'Leaving for America' nobody actually goes to America. I'm also beginning to wonder if there really is anybody living next door to his big house, or if there is even a big house at all next door to his big house.

I'm teaching in school at the minute, instead of supporting teaching. Our fourth teacher out of a department of nine has tested positive. I'm a bit slaughtered. You can probably tell. So much for my glorious white space of January. Here's a tree, an aspirational tree, an arboreally ironic aspirational tree. Normal service may be resumed shortly.

2/2/22

 Last Friday in work, one of our English teachers was telling me about an article she'd recently read in the Guardian. You have to read it; it's so good. It declares that after two years of the last two years, we all need some 'funtervention', and it's up to us to decide what that means. Connecting, limiting the good things before they enslave us (which speaks directly into this house's current obsession with episodes of Grey's Anatomy), picking up a dusty guitar - whatever it takes to help us through the times when "the void within yourself becomes manifest". 

The thing that had captured HR's imagination was the concept of The Daily Delight. Catherine Price, the author of the article, said we needed to find something fun, something light-hearted every day to make us smile. Something to spark a bit of joy - something deliberately sought and carefully cherished.

Now, I thought this was all very lovely, but I didn't really take it much on board, until I was driving to work on Monday morning. There on the footpath, pedalling along at a purposeful speed was a man on a bike on the footpath. I think it was a man. It was hard to tell because his whole upper body was completely encased in the hugest, fluffiest, plumpest teddy bear that you could possibly be thinking of right now. I could not wait to get into work to tell HR!

Then, on Tuesday morning, when I dropped Jo off at the side entrance to the university, all the daffodils had come out overnight. They were definitely not there the morning before.

And today, well! Today, numerically but without the zeros, today was 2/2/22. Fabulous!

And it really is quite nice having a daily delight! 

Another nice thing that has been happening to me over the last month is the appearance of very interesting words. Some I've known; some I've had to look up. I started making a list. Then, because I have a writer friend in Scotland who is very inspiring and also kind, I was told decided that I would try to write something about one of my words every day for this month. It has been quite fun thus far!

If you'd like to see my words, I'm putting them into a facebook page for my friend. If you're on facebook, you just search for Margaret Elizabeth, and maybe there they'll be! And here's today's x

January's solitary swim

But at least it wasn't lonely. There were lots of women on the old slipway this morning, and it was good to get back in the water. Tomorrow marks the start of Week 6 in the Great Ankle Recuperation, and my physio said I could go back to the bumpy rocks and slippy seaweed and waves. She also said that if I could run and jump this week then I could go back to the hills. Which will be a miraculous recovery, as I could do neither of those before!

But in the end, this only swim I've managed this month wasn't rocky or slippy or even wavy, despite this weekend's storms. The tide was high and we were straight in. "Is it not cold?" everybody always asks. Honestly, even in summer it feels cold over your feet but once you're all in, you're thinking about so many other things. In summer you really don't notice the cold once you're in, and in winter - cold isn't what I feel. I feel pain! All over burn! And so you keep moving and keep breathing and you're part of everything around you and it's real and your mind can't do much because your body is intent on living.

And back home this is my view from the green sofa where I can be found in the quiet times, just watching the winter in the sky with my mind not doing much. Everything feels white this winter, all white and wide and empty (and sadly devoid of snow). But empty in that good way - isn't there a good empty? When there aren't too many expectations, too much rush, too huge a crisis. I'm enjoying a season of empty. I'm sure there'll be more of the rest soon enough! So in the meantime: intent on living x

Mum

Or: please let one of these mostly adult children pass a driving test soon.

"Mum, could we nip over quickly to Boulderworld."

"Now?"

"Is that ok? L (boss) says she needs my bank details."

Mum gets coat.

"Mum, could we nip over quickly to Boulderworld?"

It's 4.30 in the afternoon. We live in a north suburb of the city. Boulderworld is so far on the south edge of Belfast that it's nearly not Belfast at all. In less than an hour all the arterial routes between here and there will be at a nightly standstill. It's 4.30pm and BB starts at 7. My men are at Boulderworld climbing or, in this one's case, working, three nights a week. Tuesday night not being one of them.

"Now?"

"Is that ok? L (boss) says she needs my bank details."

Mum gets coat.

We get there and back before the traffic slows to its nightly standstill. We are home in time for dinner, uniform donning, and BB. We discuss life, the universe, and all things driving. And we see a sunset that isn't visible from the sofa where I can be found under my coat at 4.30 most afternoons.

One day one of these mostly adult children will pass a driving test, and then where will I be?!
 

Ritual

 I read Gretchen's wonderful post about on rituals late late on Saturday night, but I was so pleased to have her words still echoing in my head as we were gathering for sofa church - we're still attending church virtually for the time being.

Gretchen quotes Sergei Fudel's idea that we lay our rituals before God as expressions of our love. Gretchen, you gave me such encouragement on Sunday morning as I was setting up the room where we do church. We have our usual seats (and get a bit grumpy if someone else gets there first)! We sing, we pray, we listen. But we have our own little additions too, and one of those is having something special to eat. It's usually croissants, but I'd forgotten to order those last week, so (in a fit of generally unexpected energy) I got up in time to make scones. Now, I'm not a great scone maker! But it was a bit of labour of love: for the men here, for the set-apartness that we try to maintain for church.

Over Lockdowns I tried to make a big thing of Sunday lunch as well - there always had to be a proper dessert. I've never had an enormous repertoire there, so I did lots of experimenting with the cook books that are here but seldom used! Now that I'm back at school, there's definitely less culinary organisation but there was a Mary Berry Sticky Toffee Pudding on Sunday. And I was still thinking about all the routines that we can have that make such a difference, no matter how menial or mundane they might be.

I know that there are times of great, obvious and overwhelming blessing, but isn't there such joy too in the things that you need to look for, and carefully appreciate, and be surprised by? I love those moments too. Ways to offer up a small life in small ways to a big God who enlarges us just where we are. Wishing you all lots of beautiful rituals this week - may they bless you, bless your worlds, and please the One who answers us x

A weekend

Prince Charming and I had breakfast together this morning (it was still Saturday when I started typing this!) to the sound of Radio 4 while our mostly adult children slept on. It was the start of a good day. When boys emerged, one studied and t'other helped me clear childhood clutter toys. In my head there will be one room completely cleared and completely cleaned each 2022 month. Forward, I suppose, but methinks this first room is going to be greedy for some February!

Not all 'in my head' things come to pass. In a new Meadowplace order, we are realising that these mostly adult children of ours have minds of their own which must be respected. So the blast to the coast after lunch was just the two of us. This is recently new, and we are adjusting! We did nonetheless love breathing in the last of the daylight all the way from Ballintoy to White Park Bay and back. It's not so far, but being in week 4 of a six week ankle recovery time, it's far enough! It transpired over Christmas that we have four front steps and not three. Who knew?

And here is some progress thus far. The sock was doing well until it became clear that I couldn't really go on knitting joyful rounds indefinitely. So now it's stalling. Fortitude needed for the next bit, or just some concentration. Both of which sound like a lot of effort! The second panel of Mum's tree blanket is nearly finished, though. Size 4 clogs for scale. The book is a proof copy of Francis Hagan's latest novel. FH is novelist and poet, psychotherapist and local English teacher... in the school where I work! Leaving for America is a poignant and increasingly teasing tale, written with Shakespearean scope and beauty. I have to read it very slowly. And this chromebook is my chromebook, to paraphrase the Bard himself.

 Can I tell you about the bags? The red one is A4 size which is perfect for the pattern for Trees. It was bought for its size at a craft fair that I must have gone to with my mother in 2002. I only know this because I got it to keep my first antenatal notes in. It hadn't been used since 2004 when it became redundant after the second now mostly adult boy was born.

The little white one, book-sized but also perfect for sock-things, was bought in July 2019 in a gorgeous bookshop in Germany, as you might have guessed. That was our last time out of a UK country (except for the quick drive across The Border that I had to do last Saturday - which was another quite nice day). We were on holiday with three friends and stayed in a centuries old watermill. One of the friends is a German teacher, and she did translate the Nietsche for me. I can't quite remember it now, but maybe you'll work it out!

I do hope that you might be having  a lovely forward-looking weekend, full of breath and joy in whatever makes you smile. I hope she won't mind me quoting it but the hardest working woman I know, who has an enormous heart full of big pain-won faith, said this, crowning my good day, forward...right out the door, to the barn with prayers God will overwhelm you with His blessings this year. This entire year. XO

Last and first

Yesterday I finished the first panel of a blanket that my mother requested. It was nice to finish something on the last day of the year. So I thought I'd start a new project today, and that maybe a new tradition could be here! The book is one of my Christmas presents, prayers written during Lockdown by the spiritual director of the Corrymeela Community. Beautiful, and challenging, just like Corrymeela!

So, because my great and greatly talented chum, Niqi, gave me socks for all the family, in four balls of sock yarn, I thought I'd better make a start! Glittery fairy lights sparkle wool from West Yorkshire Spinners - hopefully I'll have a pair of Christmas socks for this (hard to say?) 2022, even if my three wise men have a longer journey! And this is the only sock pattern I've ever been able, once and slowly, to complete!

Books-wise, here's the rest of the holiday reading, though the pile of new books is generously and deliciously high! I'm flicking through magical plans for a rabbit in a new school uniform. It's for a wee chum who will hopefully hear in the Spring that she has a place in the school of her heart's desire. And yesterday's finishing included this absolutely magical collection of tales from snowy forests. It came from our woodsman chum, and thank you very much indeed! If you are in need next year of new festive bookish joy, I could not recommend this little jewel more highly!

Wishing you great success in all your projects - and hoping that you'll finish them much more quickly than me...