Jack Knife

I normally spend a bit of time at the end of the day just doing a few clues in the Saturday "Times Jumbo" cryptic crossword, and can generally persuade it to last at least half the week.  Last Saturday's was complete by Tuesday evening . . . almost.  One clue remained - "Predator with strong teeth and jack knife (4)".  My immediate thought was 'pike' (as I had already the i and e), but I couldn't relate that to "jack knife", and my usually very reliable dictionary (which I dislike having to use) was in this case no help to me at all.  So I left the crossword on one side until today.

There are three basic meanings to jack knife - first of all, the knife itself, with folding blades, secondly, what an articulated lorry may do, unwanted, when things get out of control, and thirdly, a style of competition dive.  Taking the crossword up again this afternoon in an idle moment, I toyed with the word 'dive' for a while, but couldn't relate that to the first part of the clue, which was, it seemed to me, the "twin definition" form of cryptic clue, in which the clue as a whole is cryptic, but each component is in fact non-cryptic.

Then I got sidetracked into the lyrics of 'Mack the Knife', in which predators, teeth and jack knives feature strongly . . .

Oh, the shark, dear, has such teeth, dear,

and he keeps them pearly white.

Just a jack knife has old MacHeath, dear,

and he keeps it out of sight.

Sadly, that didn’t prove fruitful! 

Having, as I do, a sincere and strongly held fear of heights, which certainly includes high-diving boards, I did not know until this afternoon that 'pike' is a diving term, and therefore my correct answer.  A jack knife is . . . "the front-dive pike, in which the body folds and unfolds", as Wikipaedia assures me (and who am I to disagree).  Well, it's good to learn something new each day, and I like the way in which a good puzzle can help do this.

Cygnet

While out walking this evening, my wife and I came across a fluffy grey cygnet on its own, along a reach of our local canal.  It looked happy and contented enough, dabbling away among the reeds, and I whistled a snatch of 'The Ugly Duckling' to it as we passed by.  But we couldn't see parents or siblings anywhere around, and I shall go to bed worrying about the little guy tonight!

Found!

Anyone out there concerned about my missing phone will be pleased to hear that I found it quite quickly this morning (hiding under a colleague's coat).  Jesus knew all about how good it feels to find something you've lost, and told two related parables, about a lost sheep and a lost coin.  "Rejoice with me!" says the woman who had lost a coin from her necklace and then, after much searching, found it again . . . and the party commenced.

"Even so," said Jesus, "there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents."  I too am found.  Over the months past there have been episodes of healing, of self-discovery and realisation, of a new sense of calm, of purpose and of call.  And isn't it good to think that I am being rejoiced over - and you too, perhaps!

Losing Things

Today has not been a good day!  I set out from home with my diary, as I thought, only to arrive at work without it, and with a distinct memory of having placed it on top of the car.  Naturally, I was beginning to panic:  it could be anywhere along the eight mile journey from home to work - and without it, I'm lost!  I rang Ann in trepidation, but the good news back was that I'd left it on top of the other car, so all was well (except that I didn't have it with me, and could have done with it).

Unhappily, by the end of the morning I'd managed to lose the mobile phone I'd used to call home!  When I dial the number it rings - but nowhere within earshot.  I suppose it's fallen from a pocket, but where?  I can live without my mobile, but not for long.  Maybe it's somewhere at work, and I'll find it tomorrow.

Things you lose can be replaced.  Maybe not exactly, but there's always something you can do - or, if you can't, well, mostly you can live without whatever it was, a little regretfully maybe, but still . . .

People you lose are not so easy to replace.  It's sad when people fall out, when loves and friendships grow cool, when families are divided, but it happens.  Sometimes it happens because we behave badly (or someone behaves badly towards us);  sometimes it happens as the result of accident, or because a word is spoken too hastily or else misunderstood;  and sometimes it happens by a process of slow decay, maybe over a period of separation.  Memo to self, now that I've been reunited with my diary:  work a little harder, please, at the two mainstays of human relationships - generosity and forgiveness - and never let love grow cold.

Mitchell's Fold

Last night - Midsummer Day - I helped lead a service in the ancient stone circle near Priestweston, Shropshire, known today as Mitchell's Fold. The stones were erected by people whose world view we can hardly grasp, some three thousand years ago;  but though their time was so remote from ours, I can understand something of what will have motivated them. Here is a height from which you might fancy the whole world could be seen, and a wild place, in which our worship accompanied the sound of curlew and skylark.

Many will stand in such a place and be hugely aware of their closeness to the rhythms of the natural world; some, myself included, while acknowledging that closeness, will find their soul's gaze drawn further, to the majesty of the Creator. And those who call themselves Christians will claim that this Creator, far from being remote and unattainable, and further than even the reach of our vision from such a high place as this, makes himself known to us, stands with us, in the man Jesus.

So we counted it a good thing to stand here in the wild stretch of high moorland, rather than safely inside a holy building, in order to sing his praise. And no less a good thing to draw and drink a pint or two in fellowship afterwards, down in the Miner's Arms. Before doing that, we turned to look outwards, in order to say the closing words together, words to send us out from the community of worship, and into the risk of witness and of service: having known a blessing and given praise for it, now to be a blessing, in all our several ways.

Thought For The Week

“Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was.”

Dag Hammarskjold

Nice

I've spent much of today in nice places, and among nice people.  'Nice' is of course a rather over-used word, and it has perhaps become almost interchangeable with 'bland' - but I don't mean to use it in that way. Rather, I mean people who seem to have the quiet knack of making you feel better without having to work at it - just by who and how they are; and there are places like that too, places where you just feel comfortable and naturally at home, even if you're there as a visitor . . . and even if you're there on the sort of grey and gloomy day we've had today.

I think I need to unpack this a little further. I suppose what I'm trying to express is my appreciation of those people who allow you the space to be yourself, who don't demand too much, and for whom you don't have to put on any kind of 'front' - and who give you, free and gratis, a sense of being valued and affirmed. I hope I do this too; I'd certainly like to! But I thank God for those who offer this ministry to me.

It may seem strange to make the same claim of places, and it is probably a bit fanciful on my part. And yet some places are just . . . nice. They don't require you do live up to them, or catch up with them, or to give more than you can afford. They're just comfortable and affirming places to be.

Where is this place, you may ask, about which I wax so lyrical? I'm not saying, other than that it's a seaside town, with red kites in the countryside around. After all, I'd like it still to be nice next time I visit!

Rainy Day Thoughts

This doesn't seem to be much of a summer thus far, and, after a couple of fairly nice days, this morning we've been back in the rainshadow!  And I've been feeling rather down all day, not helped by some strange dreams last night, some annoying occurrences through the day, a feeling of not getting anywhere much, and one or two discouraging messages and comments.

So I set out for choir practice this evening not feeling at all happy.  There are several concert and other events coming up, and I'd decided that I really didn't feel confident, I'd missed too many practices, and I ought to opt out.  "Are you going to sign up or not?" Ann asked me, as we arrived.  "I'll give it till half time," I replied, "then I'll see how I feel."

Well, music worked its usual trick.  I do just love to sing, and the notes seemed to be falling into all the right places tonight.  By half time I was quite content to put my name down for everything.  I do always have a song in my heart, of course - sometimes I just need to work a little harder at getting it to flow through the rest of me!

Curlew

I was weeding a garden this afternoon in Sarnau, a little village about midway between Oswestry and Welshpool, and was delighted to hear a curlew calling from somewhere quite close by.  Although we mostly think of curlew as shore birds, they nest on our upland fields and moors, and it's nice to think they might be nesting in the pasture fields close to the garden I was in today.

The curlew is a large brown wader with a distinctive long and downward-curving bill.  Its call is quite melodic but also has a touch of the wilderness about it, to my ears:  it always sets the hairs on my neck tingling.  Here for me it's an iconic sound, rivalled only by the cuckoo - which I've also heard locally this year, for the first time in a long while.

Thought For The Week

"He who does not trust enough will not be trusted."

Lao Tzu

Words based on Ecclesiastes 3

For everything there is a season,
For everything there is a time,

For every action find your reason,

In every verse create your rhyme.

There is a time when we are born,
There is a time when we must die,

A time to dance, a time to mourn,

A time to laugh, a time to cry.

There is a time to plant and build,
There is a time to tear things down,
Times when we’re lost, and unfulfilled,
Times when we’re loved, time to be found.

There is a time to gather stones,
A time to cast those stones away.
A time to speak in urgent tones,
A time to have no words to say.

For everything there is a time:

to tear, to mend;  to start, to cease;

a time to fall, a time to climb,

a time of war, a time for peace.

Thought For The Week

"The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of . . . living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another."

Thomas Merton

Intervention

There has been much interest locally - and, because of Springwatch, much more widely - in the osprey project at Cors Dyfi near Machynlleth.  One of the three chicks died a week or more back, and more recently, during the very wet weather, a second died, and a third (the second hatched, I think) was too weak to signal that it wanted feeding, and therefore wasn't being fed.  Wildlife Trust members intervened, took the chick, fed it and warmed it, then returned in to the nest in a happier and healthier state, upon which the parent birds soon recommenced feeding.

Not everyone approves of such intervention.  Nature reserves are bits of wild habitat, not zoos, and nature should be allowed to take its course, some would say.  Personally, I'm glad the intervention was made.  We are, after all, talking about a project here - the ospreys are breeding at Cors Dyfi because of the human intervention that has led to a reserve area being maintained and stewarded, and a breeding platform erected on which the birds are nesting.  To a degree I would oppose intervention - for example, much as I might not like "my" bird table birds being predated by sparrow hawks, I would not intervene to prevent it happening.  But I think rules are made to be broken, and in this case it was the right move.

In any case, we human beings are involved in so many bad interventions that harm environments and destroy wild populations that a bit of positive action is surely not only nice but necessary.  And also, unlike the ospreys which, however we may view their parenting skills, are motivated and triggered by innate and instinctive reflexes (which is why the weak and listless chick was being ignored), we human beings have the capacity to be compassionate, to be aware, and to be interspecific in our action, recognising that all life has value.  And we should use it.

African Sunrise

A sliver of blood stains the eastern horizon:
somewhere beyond those hills
the Indian Ocean is giving birth to the new day.

Soon enough the time of burning heat,
with its confusion of dust and wheels and songs and smiles,
hard sales and shouting voices;

for now, though, all is quiet,
the world and this back yard
nestled in dark velvet under a crescent moon:
everything still balanced and cool,
everything still waiting for that first cock to crow.

Storm

Nothing like a stormy night for reminding us - if we needed it - just how not in control of things we really are!

Words From Mother Julian

"This teaching of true comfort applies without exception to all my fellow Christians . . . These words, 'You shall not be overcome,' were said very loudly and clearly fro security and comfort against all the tribulations that may come.  He did not say, 'You shall not be tormented, you shall not be troubled, you shall not be grieved,' but he said, 'You shall not be overcome.'  God wants us to pay attention to these words and wants our trust always to be sure and strong, in weal and woe;  for he loves and is pleased with us, and he wishes us to love and be pleased with him and put great trust in him;  and all shall be well."

Rain

Hmm.  Rain all day, and more promised for tomorrow.  My plans dashed, diary commitments rendered pointless.  But no use moping.  Every door closed provides opportunity for experimentation, discovery and new directions.

June

The curlew calling from the river fields,
the willow warbler’s soft insistent tune,
and cuckoo, not too near or far away:
the myriad drowsy sounds of early June;


The scent of dropwort in my border bed,
first meadowsweet along the narrow lanes;
goldfinches with their young on thistledown,
as baby blue tits flit among the canes;


Eight young goosanders race in mother’s wake,
as I stand on the aqueduct to see;
a sun-kissed afternoon of dappled shade,
with may’s discarded petals falling free.


We sang ‘Jerusalem’ the other day -
a blackbird answered from the churchyard yew;
he sang on as we sat to hear God’s word,
and in his liquid song that word was true.


O Brother Jesus, did you walk these hills
to grant your blessing? Bless us in our praise,
that all our sweet remembrance of this time
may carry through to winter’s shorter days.


Brief glimpse of heaven, sound of angel song,
that this year’s June has brought us, may it stay
to lift our hearts, and lift our hearts again,
make glad our spirits, guide on love’s bright way.

Thought For The Week

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."

Bill Cosby

Ground Elder

The rain held off this afternoon, enabling me to get a couple of hours' gardening in for one of my customers. Most of the time was spent battling against ground elder, which was growing more lushly and rampantly than I've seen it anywhere, I think!  In places it was almost as tall as I am . . . it must be really good soil.

The roots were everywhere, of course, and very matted and strung together.  I enjoy weeding, wouldn't be doing it otherwise, but two hours of this is quite enough;  and, however carefully you sift the roots, there's always something left behind!  So I won't have got rid of it all, but four large containers of it are in my car waiting to be recycled.  I assume the recycling process is very severe, as I wouldn't want the remains of these roots to be infecting anyone else's garden!

It goes to show, though, how small omissions can have big consequences.  This isn't a garden left abandoned for decades, just one in which, for good reasons, not much has been done for a year or so.  In that time the ground elder (and other weeds too, but none as rampantly) has virtually taken over.  I've had to  tease out the roots from around large shrubs that were in danger of becoming completely overrun.

In our daily lives also, we take our eyes off the ball at our risk and peril.  Small areas of indiscipline, times when we relax our guard, take time out from things we should be attending to, slacken off - they really are important, the impact is cumulative;  almost without noticing, we become fat and flabby and out of condition.  And this is, of course, as much a spiritual problem as a physical or mental one.  It isn't that we need to do very much, so much as that we do need to remember to programme it in, to be regular and attentive in the small disciplines we need to maintain.

Ground elder isn't that hard to control, though it is a bit tiresome.  All you need to do is to pull it out whenever you see it.  Don't wait until it's a huge plant with flowers  and fruit - do it when there's just a single leaf showing.  Do it daily, keep on at it, be watchful and aware;  show it who's boss.

The Beauty of Flowers

I delivered 200 programmes to Leighton Church, just over the river from here (and the church in the picture at the head of this blog) this morning, for their flower festival this weekend, part of the village's celebration of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee.  I hope they'll need more than that!  That might depend, of course, on whether the very uncertain weather this weekend affects attendance.  I hope lots of people come - the floral art on display is going to be superb.

This is the prayer I composed as part of the programme :-

We thank you, Creator God,
for the beauty of flowers, and of the natural world,
and for our human capacity to delight in such things.
We thank you for the skill and inspiration
through which we are able to use this beauty to your glory
and to the enrichment of this house of prayer.
Guide us in the use of our hearts, our minds and our hands,
that all we do may be in tune with your creative Spirit;
in Jesus' name.  Amen.