We are having the hottest October in fifty years and possibly in the last hundred years. Temperatures yesterday on my veranda reached 35.1 C (97F) and predicted to reach 38 (100F) this weekend. My friend The Dragon is melting, she claims that Dragons need cool temperatures to be happy. I, on the other hand, nicknamed the Lizard because I so love being warm am a happy camper. Out in the bush the last drop of moisture is being leached away and everything turns taupe and sand coloured and wildfires destroy thousands of hectares.
Last night, later in the evening, having checked on the dogs I felt the faintest zephyr, merest whisper of a breeze. I wasn't even sure, to begin with, that it was even real. Then I realised even the smallest of my wind chimes were not ringing which could only mean that this whisper of air movement was directly out of the north. Excitement bubbled. Our rain bearing winds come from the north and we've had nothing but southerlies for six months. Living in such a drought prone region no one gets even faintly excited, or even sometimes moves indoors until the rain is truly hammering down, but here is just a faint breathe of hope.
Abruptly I was reminded of the gospel from a couple of Sundays ago, where Jesus says to the Pharisees " you can read the weather but not yourselves". It is easy to say to myself, I am self reflective and I do know myself, after a fashion. But there is always something isn't there about myself that takes me by surprise. Some need, some arrogance, some fantasy, some distrust, some nursed anger that blossoms, seemingly out of nowhere. Not in the heat as it does for my friend The Dragon but more often in the rigours of the cold for me.
Friday, 28 October 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Hospitality
I am going to a funeral this afternoon.
It is the circumstances that give me pause to reflect this morning. In brief. The Anglican Church in Zimbabwe is a house horribly divided with an excommunicated bishop who holds all the church property and a duly elected bishop with no physical homes for his congregations. Its a mess, and follows our political divisions. So a friend of mine, who is an ordained Anglican priest in South Africa, has been asked to lead the funeral service for his father in law and has no church from which to do so.
The Rector of my sons Jesuit College has made the Chapel available for this service, in the spirit of community. Offering generously of the schools resources to assist, and detailed me as "holiday sacristan" to make sure that he has everything he needs.
It is an honour, and a joy that doors that were once firmly closed are now open and hospitable.
It is the circumstances that give me pause to reflect this morning. In brief. The Anglican Church in Zimbabwe is a house horribly divided with an excommunicated bishop who holds all the church property and a duly elected bishop with no physical homes for his congregations. Its a mess, and follows our political divisions. So a friend of mine, who is an ordained Anglican priest in South Africa, has been asked to lead the funeral service for his father in law and has no church from which to do so.
The Rector of my sons Jesuit College has made the Chapel available for this service, in the spirit of community. Offering generously of the schools resources to assist, and detailed me as "holiday sacristan" to make sure that he has everything he needs.
It is an honour, and a joy that doors that were once firmly closed are now open and hospitable.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Evening
I have had a tiring day. Just one of those days that happen sometime where you end up somewhere quite other than planned. I settled this morning with the determined intention to clear some niggly small jobs off my desk when a client called to say that she had uncovered a major theft going on in her factory and could I, by chance, come now. Consequently I had a really intense and focused morning planning a strategy, liaising with Fraud Squad and the like. I came home, intending this time to put my feet up and relax and play with small kitten when Small called to say that he had hit a pedestrian who had run out across the road in front of him. More dealings with police, Casualty (ER I guess if you are American) insurance and whatever. It turns out, fortunately, that the the pedestrian has only some minor grazes and was warned by the police to cross roads only at intersections. Hopeless thing that really as no good Zimbabwean really obeys road rules...... but that is another story.
Weary from an unexpectedly intense day I leaned against the sun warmed north facing wall this evening after sunset. The heat seeped into my bones offering comfort and peace.
To idle to move indoors to begin supper for dogs, cat and humans I watched the evening descend to night instead.
Watching the darting, diving flight of the resident palm swifts before they retired for the night.
Watched them silouetted black against a pink opal sky.
Watching the tropical evening twilight fade into peacock blue darkness
Watched the tiny fruit bats clamber out of the magnolia to forage on what the swifts had left
Listened in the growing dark to the tuning night orchestra
Whistling frogs clear and high trebles
Warty toads in basso profundo
Rhythm section comprising the crickets and cicadas.
And lastly glowing eerily the rare, rare sight of a firefly.
Coming to I realised that darkness had come suddenly, as it does in the tropics, and that the wall was cooling behind me. Restored in some measure I turned for indoors and ....supper.....
Weary from an unexpectedly intense day I leaned against the sun warmed north facing wall this evening after sunset. The heat seeped into my bones offering comfort and peace.
To idle to move indoors to begin supper for dogs, cat and humans I watched the evening descend to night instead.
Watching the darting, diving flight of the resident palm swifts before they retired for the night.
Watched them silouetted black against a pink opal sky.
Watching the tropical evening twilight fade into peacock blue darkness
Watched the tiny fruit bats clamber out of the magnolia to forage on what the swifts had left
Listened in the growing dark to the tuning night orchestra
Whistling frogs clear and high trebles
Warty toads in basso profundo
Rhythm section comprising the crickets and cicadas.
And lastly glowing eerily the rare, rare sight of a firefly.
Coming to I realised that darkness had come suddenly, as it does in the tropics, and that the wall was cooling behind me. Restored in some measure I turned for indoors and ....supper.....
Monday, 17 October 2011
Loss for Words
I have found myself curiously at a loss for words since I went on retreat. It may be that in the five days I was away suddenly so much had changed, not least me. I came home to friends facing all sorts of life threatening illnesses - either themselves or in close family members. Being beside them in ways that they need has not always been easy.... there is no one size fits all approach and my own sense of helplessness and grief for my friends has overwhelmed any poor words I may have to offer.
Our confirmation class is unexpectedly facing some major changes and next year will be even more challenging than usual - this I have at least learned to deal with. We know from experience that the class happens entirely in the framework that the Spirit dictates.....even when it just seems bleak to us.
The last ten days or so have brought surprising anxiety for Vetboy and Small and my assistant who are all writing exams and appear to be struggling with their course material more than I anticipated. It requires momentous effort on my part to breathe and to trust the Living God loves them even more than I do, and to allow events to unfold as they will.
My husband is travelling a lot and I miss his reassuring self.
And in this wordless, anxious place I learn that prayer does not require words. Just attention and presence.
And for this mercy I am deeply grateful.
Our confirmation class is unexpectedly facing some major changes and next year will be even more challenging than usual - this I have at least learned to deal with. We know from experience that the class happens entirely in the framework that the Spirit dictates.....even when it just seems bleak to us.
The last ten days or so have brought surprising anxiety for Vetboy and Small and my assistant who are all writing exams and appear to be struggling with their course material more than I anticipated. It requires momentous effort on my part to breathe and to trust the Living God loves them even more than I do, and to allow events to unfold as they will.
My husband is travelling a lot and I miss his reassuring self.
And in this wordless, anxious place I learn that prayer does not require words. Just attention and presence.
And for this mercy I am deeply grateful.
Sunday, 9 October 2011
Peculiar weather and prayer
It is supposed to be hot and dry. Purple time. Sky no longer blue but white/mauve with haze. Jacaranda trees and petrea bushes flowering purple and bougainvillea alive and vibrant in everything from magenta to bright purple to orange. Instead we have had unseasonal rain and cold and the sky is bright blue and everyone has been digging out their winter pyjama's and clothes only put away the week before. This morning the wind is still blowing out of the cold south and not from the hot equatorial north.
And everyone is quite disoriented by this turn of events. And conversations abound, tinged with anxiety... "does this mean a poor season?" Meaning will we go hungry and thirsty because there is no rain and therefore the dams don't fill so no water and no rain means no crops, no food. We lack the foreign currency reserves to import food. If we can't grow it, we will starve. Rescue won't come from the outside world either given the nature of our politics where food and starvation is a political weapon.
I came back from retreat in the Monastery understanding that despite the messiness of my life, of our lives, God herself is present. That all activity is a form of prayer. Waiting and working, sickness and health, loving and living. There is no part of my life and history that does not belong. I learned that I can resist or open myself to the mystery of my life and that in the opening there is God. Always easier to do of course in the Monastery than in the demands of a life lived in the world.
Here is the reality of the understanding. I loath being cold and rejoice in the summer. My freinds call me a basking lizard for my love of the warmth. Ordinarily I hunker down and wait for the cold to pass, as I know it must and delight in the summer heat. Now I must open myself to the cold and the wintery wind and blue, blue sky. And the first thing I see when I do is that everything is green.....for the dust has been washed away revealing an unexpected bright spring green not seen before.
I wonder what else I will see if I open my eyes and hear if I listen?
And everyone is quite disoriented by this turn of events. And conversations abound, tinged with anxiety... "does this mean a poor season?" Meaning will we go hungry and thirsty because there is no rain and therefore the dams don't fill so no water and no rain means no crops, no food. We lack the foreign currency reserves to import food. If we can't grow it, we will starve. Rescue won't come from the outside world either given the nature of our politics where food and starvation is a political weapon.
I came back from retreat in the Monastery understanding that despite the messiness of my life, of our lives, God herself is present. That all activity is a form of prayer. Waiting and working, sickness and health, loving and living. There is no part of my life and history that does not belong. I learned that I can resist or open myself to the mystery of my life and that in the opening there is God. Always easier to do of course in the Monastery than in the demands of a life lived in the world.
Here is the reality of the understanding. I loath being cold and rejoice in the summer. My freinds call me a basking lizard for my love of the warmth. Ordinarily I hunker down and wait for the cold to pass, as I know it must and delight in the summer heat. Now I must open myself to the cold and the wintery wind and blue, blue sky. And the first thing I see when I do is that everything is green.....for the dust has been washed away revealing an unexpected bright spring green not seen before.
I wonder what else I will see if I open my eyes and hear if I listen?
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