Mothering Sunday - Cutting the Cord

                                            credit: idea go at freedigitalphotos.net

I have had worse partings, but none that so

Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly

Saying what God alone could perfectly show -

How selfhood begins with a walking away,

And love is proved in the letting go.

- Cecil Day-Lewis from 'Walking Away'

I am brainwashing my children not to want to smoke cigarettes (dirty, smelly, they kill you), climb mountains (high, cold, they kill you) or ever get on the back of a motorbike (far too fast, far too dangerous - and - did I mention?  - they kill you). Their father, on the other hand, has now introduced them to the concept of speed as a god to be worshipped.

 - Judith O'Reilly, Wife in the North

Sunday morning -  all-age service and, empty-nester though I am, the 'presentation' of the loving mother nurturing and protecting their child, teaching, comforting, advising and step by painful step making themselves redundant, made me smile and weep (inside) in equal measures.

The poignancy brought a lump to my throat.  I glanced around at the young mums and thought: You really don't know the half of it, do you? So, you worry non-stop about child-proof medicine bottles, buggy hinges that nip little fingers,  bike stabilisers, bike helmets, car seats, SATS results, GCSE results, Piano Grade III results, Stranger Danger, cyberbullying, Parental Advisory Lyrics and computer games,  Uni entry, the job market. Oh and sex and drugs and rock 'n roll of course...

And do you know? It never lets up; you just learn to cope with it differently, you have to, else you'd go crazy: The first all-nighter, Reading, Glastonbury, driving lesson, solo  motorway trip, depression, the post GCSE jolly to Ibitha (or Newquay!), failed job interview, solo packpacking to far-off lands, the angst-ridden phone call when they're far away and you're in no position to help, the darker, seamier stuff you'd rather not think about or begin to imagine. It's a wilderness out there. 

It's also a big, wide and wonderful world and the only way they're going to be able to find that out for themselves is for you to let them cut that cord. Pass on your wisdom, morals  values and faith, yes, let them know you're there for them, yes, 'Ponder and consider these things in your heart,' after all, you're in distinguished company; the mother of Our Lord had to, but like her, you have to let them make their own way eventually.

This is in no way denigrating or glossing over the experiences of those families, where, tragically, a beloved child - and they're your children whatever age they are - did not make it... Words, especially glib words are inadequate...

I chose the two quotations at the start of this post because between them  they so perfectly capture this tension all parents have to live with. To be fully human is to struggle  to live true within our   vulnerability; to risk the heartaches along with the joys and to equip our children and other loved ones to do the same. I might be a grumpy old Mummy a lot of the time and am certain I've made no end of mistakes along the way,   but on Sunday,  as I looked out over the little ones, I remembered my 'big ones,' and felt so, so, proud...

                                                    Saying what God alone could perfectly show - 

How selfhood begins with a walking away,

And love is proved in the letting go.

Quirky Creativity and Snail Racing

Aloof Lord Palmerston

looks down

Upon the ceaseless

traffic in the town.

Inscrutable as the

Egyptian Sphynx

I sometimes wonder

what he really thinks.

After spotting the the sad tale of the untimely demise of young Henry West, here's another of those hidden 'gems,' spotted in Romsey last Saturday. This plaque - part of the town trail, refers, of course, to the statue of the 19th Century Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston, pictured here. Yes, I do wonder what he thinks. He must have seen a fair few changes in his day. 

Anyway, to creativity; the object of the expedition was not to admire  Lord Palmerston. I was in Romsey for a day with the Winchester Spiritual Direction Network at Wisdom House, home of The Daughters of Wisdom (Sisters of La Sagesse). We had a marvellous time exploring all kinds of creative resources and tools to help resource   our own spiritual journeys or   those we're working alongside.  There was really only time to offer  a taster of such delights as story-telling, collage and watercolouring and to pool  a few other creative ideas with each other. But no matter. I was thrilled, thoroughly enjoyed myself and took away a few 'creations,' to muse over and sit with. Plus a socking great chunk of modelling clay, bought in the town's proper toyshop (why are there so few nowadays, I wonder?) which I needed for something at church the following day. (Ouch, my poor back!)

Another exciting discovery: the centre has a labyrinth. Sadly -  I had a long journey back home, so didn't get a chance to walk it this time round. I must find an excuse to go back some time soon.

In case anybody wondered, no, the day's programme did not include snail racing! This last was from an advert I spotted in a shop window en route back to the railway station.  A night of snail racing, organised by Romsey District Scouts. The mind boggles. Only in the UK!

To celebrate or not to celebrate - St Patrick's Day

They're back! The three little  pilgrims whose angst-filled peregrinations had a honourable mention over on my old Greenpatches blog, courtesy of Roberta on Spiritually Directed.  Now, over on the bathroom shelf, they're experiencing a spot of bother with a certain Green Gentleman of a Celtic Persuasion.

Lent Practices - Sin

Psalm 51

If I view sin as woundedness, how will that change the way I deal with it?

          Once you see that your "sin" and your gift are two sides of the same coin you can never forget it.
           - Richard Rohr
            
          Sin is a refusal to keep growing up.
           - St Gregory of Nyssa 

Lent Practices - Finding a Quiet Place

"And when you come before God, don't turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?

 ⁶"Here's what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace."

 - Matthew 6 - The Message

Turn your speakers on, log out of Facebook, Twitter and I don't know what else-er and spend just 90 seconds with The Quiet Place Project. Thank you to Jesuit Post for this one.

Gothic Tails

Departing from Lent for a moment, at the request of Crafty Green Poet,  here's a classic tale of the adventures of the late, great Gothcat: Stable Vandalised. Holy Family Scattered! From my wibsite blog, December 2005.

It all began yesterday evening when Miffcat jumped up on to the table and hurled himself at the birdcage with an evil glint in his eye. Mr Miff uttered a shriek of horror – leapt up, snatched the would-be assassin and plopped him down on the floor. After checking the cage door he flopped back down on to the sofa with a sigh of relief….that turned to another shriek of horror as he realised that there was a black furry cushion underneath him that hadn’t been there a second ago! By some miracle (or maybe because the beloveds lost so much weight lately), the cat wasn’t hurt, but after that no amount of coaxing would persuade him to take up his usual perch on my lap. Instead he turned his back on us and started stalking round the room with the look of a creature that has Things On His Mind. Next, he’d leapt up onto the dresser, and before we could stop him, tried  to insert himself into the little alcove where our Nativity figures are displayed – and began pulling at the straw.

Horrors! We had visions of many year’s worth of lovingly collected Santons de Provence being smashed to smithereens. Sacrificing theological and historical accuracy for the sake of safety, I hastily organised an emergency evacuation of the Holy Family and assorted hanger- ons to the far end of the alcove. It’s traditional in these creches to include not just shepherds and magi, but the butcher, baker, candlestick maker, priest, mayor and whoever else you can think of. At the last count ours has a duck, pig, pottery hippo from Disneyland, and two camels, one with a broken leg propped up by the rock wherein resides the Angel of the Lord. Another regular visitor used to be a super dooper reindeer pooper, only this year Ms Miffy put her foot down. Although in the spirit of inclusivity, one of her friends had slipped in a couple of Karma Sutra gingerbread reindeer and it was these that had attracted the cat. With Mr Miffy pulling at his hind legs, he held on for dear life with his forelegs whilst simultaneously trying to ram his head into the stable where one ‘couple’ of KS reindeer  were lurking. (I managed to catch the infant Jesus just in time as he was sent shooting out into the cold together with the other reindeer (still clasped in a lascivious embrace) which landed under an armchair, much to the delight of the dog!)

What could it all mean, I wonder?  No doubt daughter and BF would say it was a judgement on me for having turned away one overfriendly and plump little cat which followed me home one night recently. ‘ I bet you she’s pregnant,’ said Ms Miff. ‘And (accusingly) she’s probably called Mary.’ On the other hand, the scene bore a remarkable resemblance to The Goodies ‘Kitten Kong,’ that we’d been watching on TV just minutes before. I shall be watching Miffcat’s viewing with great care in future.

Lent Practices - Putting Down and Taking Up

Is it a prayer station or is it Godly Play? Both maybe?  Either way, after a shaky start,  my inner child has  been having a whale of a time recently. I've been running the church's lent library book swap scheme which we had for the first time in 2011 as part of a special Lent program of Putting Down and Taking Up. We're encouraged to press the  'pause' button on   the  busyness of  our daily  lives by putting down something, be it an activity, way of being or  behaving;  in particular clearing our schedules of all but necessary 'churchy' meetings,  replacing them by practices that draw us closer to God. To explore new types of prayer, journaling, maybe painting, reading (hence the book scheme), or getting out and about and walking in the countryside. 

To date, I've little idea how this is working out in practice. Maybe I should ask...

Getting back to the library, the joke of it is that I  get 'booked out' quite easily nowadays. And I'm finding that as I get older, the very  thought of  the  plethora of Lent and Advent resources churned out by Christian publishers  brings me out into a sweaty panic.  Simplicity is my watchword; I am Franciscan, after all! And to remain open to what calls.

So a week in, I was rather taken by the use of imagery and symbolism in   the Sunday sermon,  when  bingo! I mean - Hallelujah! (Oops! Sorry, it's Lent). There it was - my Lent 'practice.' : Each Sunday I  wait to see what speaks to me from the talk and create a  library display round it for the following week. The one in the pic here was inspired by The Cost of Discipleship. Advantages: well, first of all it ensures that I listen to the sermon! Secondly, it helps focus me as I  sit prayerfully with it* during the week. Lastly, to translate it into another, non words-based medium is, as I've discovered with my experiments with art journaling, a wonderful means of helping move those truths from head down to heart. 

What anybody else makes of it, again, I have no idea...

For now I'm off to muse over last Sunday's topic: Sin.

*[ whenever new GP cat condescends to let me onto my comfy armchair, that is. You don't mess with him, as the vet who gave him his vacc this afternoon will certify.]