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...