Yesterday I was trying to strike a match along the sandpaper edge of the box. I was doing it fast and hard, but it wouldnt light. All it did was destroy the end of the match and left me frustrated and being gased from the cooker. So I retrieved a new match and started again but the same thing happened. At that point my daughter appeared and said ‘those matches are awlful, slow down and take your time.’ I did and it worked. This morning i remembered her words and instead of assaulting the match and the box, i slowed down, took my time and it worked first time.
Today as i look out my window we have fog. Fog i thought not seen that for a long time, not since i was child, when it was sometimes so thick you couldnt see where you were going. It was good to slow down and take my time and to think of those days of childhood.
How many times do we do we miss something vital and important, something amusing, funny or just soul consoling and comforting because we dont slow down and take our time. So today i give you permission to take a seat on my bench and take your time.
One day i was walking in town and i was overcome with a wave of grief that drowned me. Every thought left me beside i needed to get home. I knew that to get home i would have to walk from where i was at the top of town to the bottom of town where the bus station was. So i started walking, head down, one step in front of the other. At some point i became aware of a pair of feet keeping pace with me, step for step. As i looked down i saw blue jeans and white trainers and what were definately men’s feet, but i didnt look up to see any more of him as i was intent on reaching my destination. So side by side we step, one step after the other. Until, he stopped. The feet stopped, and thankfully so did I. At the second i stopped a large vehicle rushed pass me at speed. One more step and it would of hit me. One more step and i would of been dead, no doubt it. As i took a sharp intake of breath the tears began to roll down my cheeks. I dont remember where i was stood and i dont know what happened to the person keeping step with me but i am very grateful to them. Was it God, was it and Angel was it just a man following an unknown prompting. Whatever it was, it was a miracle.
Do you remember when you were a child or maybe when you children were small, the stack of colourful cubes. You would stack them all up and your child would knock them down, again and again. There was a red one, a blue one, a green one, a yellow one and then they would repeat the colours each box becoming smaller. Then when the game was done the boxes all stacked neatly into one another. Now my children are grown but those boxes were a source of happiness.
As life twists and turns we create mental boxes where we separate those things we cannot cope with all at once but one by one we open the boxes and face what’s inside. What if what was inside was something good rather then something bad. What if what was inside were gifts, gifts from God?
Its been over a year since you died and yet it still feels at times like it was only yesterday. Like time as stood still and there is no way to move it forward.
A man i know, who goes by the name of Bishop Hayward taught me about ‘boxes’. How when the worse think happened to him he put his thoughts into boxes so he could take control of that which was uncontrolable. I have boxes too.
However my boxes are different. In each box was a gift that God wanted me to have. A gift that would sustain me and help me grow. Each gift given from a loving Heavenly Father. Gifts such as strength, time, patience, love, courage and hope.
The last box He showed me was labelled ‘Acceptance’. God would show me the box but how could i accept that you had died and i would push the box away and turn away not knowing what was inside. How could i accept your death?
Whilst talking to another friend recently he said ‘you didnt think you would do it, survive.’ At that moment that last box popped open and inside was not accepting your death but God’s grace.
By accepting God’s grace we are empowered, we can come to know that we are divine, that through Jesus the Christ’s sacrifice and untimate atonement we can recieve exaltation and eternal life. This is God’s ultimate gift. To know without doubt or fear that one day we will walk in His garden together never to be parted gain.
… and not so long ago lived with a mummy with four little children. At the end of each school day the mummy would collect the children from school, take them home whilst she listened to them chatter about their day. Then they would pull squiggly faces has she made them good food to eat and made them sit around the kitchen table, encouraging them to take a few moments to be grateful for the food they had.
After dinner the plates would be mysteriously cleaned and the house tidied as the children played. Then hot would fill the bath and bubbles would be added to just the right amount and in the children would all get, two at a time or three and one depending on the year. Then rubbed dry by warmed towels and slipped snuggle into warmed pyjamas the children gathered for a last minute drink and a bedtime story. Would it be this one would it be that, each evening was different. thsn into bed the children would climb to float away on peaceful dreams of far away lands.
In the morning light as if by magic clean clothes would be laid at the foot of each child’s bed. Faces washed, adorned in clean clothes and hair all straight they gathered at the breakfast table to eat and drink with such delight before they headed out the door for another day of school and play.
But that was yesterday and like all good stories it came to an end. The children no longer go to school, bedtime baths and stories are no longer required for the children are all grown you see.