CHARLES DICKENS .....AND URIAH HEEP

Yesterday was the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Dickens. A friend rang to let me know because she was aware of how much I admired Dickens' works.
I have on my shelves the 17 volume set of Dickens' works which my father gave to my mother on her 21st birthday, in 1921. Most of these I have read, some several times.
We are now more aware of Dickens' personal failings but there can be no doubt about his extraordinary gift of bringing characters to life. I have quite a collection of china in the form of plates, jugs,mugs and miniature statues which give me daily reminders of the characters of whom he wrote. Uriah Heep, stands on the top shelf as a warning against false humility....."I'm a very 'umble man, Mr Copperfield."

A WELCOME VISITOR....FROM ANOTHER SPECIES

This Spring we had a blackbird family that decided to nest in our garage, high on a shelf near the entrance to the garden. Over a month or so we watched as they built their nest. Mother and father, quite different in colour, he black and she brown, kept busily feeding in our our garden and trees and adding to the nest. Then, one day, when they were both out flying and foraging, I climbed the ladder and discovered some eggs.
From then onwards, we kept our distance, respecting their privacy, but it was just possible as we entered the garage so see Mother sitting there, still and silent.
One day I was so impressed by her patience that I penned a few lines.

What a picture of patience!

Unmoving you sit there,
still,
in the moment,
totally given to the task,
unflinching as doors bang and people shout,
unreponsive to the cries of parrots and pigeons,
so still,
so calm,
so composed,
so concentrated.
May we learn from you, our patient guest.

A few weeks later, I checked the nest and found two tiny newly born birds, all beak and skin. Would they survive? we kept observing as parents faithfully cared for them and then, one afternoon. I found one baby hopping around the back garden and the other, more timid, perched on the edge of a sieve near the nest, plucking up courage to take off.He is there in the photo.
I was reminded of the short story, HIS FIRST FLIGHT, in our Year 10 English book of 1951. This experience has produced a flood of memories.

ALL WE HAVE IS GRACE

ALL WE HAVE IS GRACE

All we have is grace,
the gracious creativity of the One who dreamed us up
and got it all going,
the gracious compassion which journeys with us even when we
leave the path and go off exploring the swamps and by-ways,
the gracious love which forever stands waiting to restore us,
the gracious sympathy which suffers with us in our suffering,
which is distressed in our distress,
the gracious power of new life which welcomes us into each new
stage and shows us unimagined vistas and possibilities.
God of grace,
gracious One
creator, redeemer, sanctifier,
I stand in awe of you,
I love you
I pray for grace to love you more.

James Ledingham 2011

A FOGGY MORNING

One morning this winter, we experienced one of those rare fogs which blanket the whole area. It was so striking that I jumped on my trusty Malvern Star, rode to Princes Park and tried to capture the atmosphere on film. Here is one one of the results.

O, GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?

CRIES OF THE PEOPLE
It is the custom at our Church Of All Nations in Carlton for the lay members of the congregation to lead the prayers of the people.
These were our prayers on Sunday, 9th October.

1. O God, where are you?
We just escaped death in Afghanistan, we got to Indonesia, organized a boat to Australia…..and freedom. Instead we are cooped up here on Christmas Island in this ghastly detention centre and with no assurance of what will happen next.
O God, where are you?

2. O God, where are you?
I’m scared about the future. My husband has dementia, I’ve just been told that I have an aggressive cancer and our 54 year old disabled son has been having more seizures lately. What will happen to him when we go?
O God, where are you?

3. O God, where are you?
Here on the West bank of the Jordan, everything’s going wrong. We are Jews, we are Christians, we are Moslems and we want to live together but our leaders keep fighting, refusing even to talk to one another, always blaming one another….. and we three, all children of Abraham cry
O God, where are you?

4. O, God, where are you?
This rotten psych illness I’ve got……….there are voices in my head telling me to do things, warning me of dangers, over and over, and people are out to get me. God, is it you ? Is it some evil force? What is going on in my head?
O God, where are you?

5 O God, where are you?
My child is in a psych ward at The Austin, I’m riddled with guilt that I’ve failed him, that I was too busy all those growing years and now it’s too late. He won’t even talk to me.
O God, where are you?

6. O God where are you?
The Church is shrinking, the powers and principalities of the world seem so pervasive and dominant. Did we get it wrong? Was it all just wish fulfilment?
O God, where are you?

7. O God, where are you? We’ve been in this tent city on the border of Somalia for three years. I’ve lost my husband and two of our children and my youngest is emaciated and too weak to even cry. There is little food, only scraps of medicine and we’ve reached the stage of wishing we could just go to sleep and die.
O God, where are you?
Are you anywhere?

God of love, God of grace, hear the cries of your people.
For all who suffer, for all who care, we offer our prayers in helplessness and trust.
In Jesus we see you reaching out to people, lifting up the lonely, being alongside the broken and discouraged.
We wonder if you too are broken in our brokenness, helpless in our helplessness, distressed in our distress.
When human hearts are breaking under sorrow’s iron rod, may we find that self- same aching deep within your heart.
Gracious God , in your mercy, hear our prayer.

SEE MORE OF MARGARET'S PAI NTINGS.

For the last seven years, Margaret has been involved in CREATIONS AT THE CATO, an exhibition of paintings by the students and former students of Nell Frysteen at the Victorian Artists Society. Creations at the Cato VII begins on Thursday,13th October and runs until Sunday 23rd October. The weekday hours are 10.00 until 4.00 and the hours at weekends are 1.00 until 4.00. Th VAS is located at 430 Albert Street, East Melbourne, opposite St.Patrick's cathedral.

This year's opening is on Saturday 15th October at 2.00 and onwards. There is also another exhibition in the upstairs gallery so there will be plenty of paintings to see.

We hope you may be able to drop in during the 10 days of the exhibition.

OUR FIRST HOME

Soon after our marriage, Margaret did a sketch of our Paterson Street house. She framed it and we've had it ever since. Recently I rescued it from its place on the garage wall and tried to make a card of it. The original colour of the paper was white, but 45 years have mellowed it. I have made cards of the painting and they will be available, along with many other cards of Marg's works, at the St. Michael's Art and Craft exhibition on September 10 and 11 on the corner of McPherson and McIlwraith Streets.

IN DARK TIMES

Few of us who have reached retirement have avoided times of darkness and pain in the midst of life. It is even possible that we have made some deep discoveries of grace at such times.

Here are a couple of poems that have spoken powerfully to me in bleak times.

VALE OF TEARS. A PRAYER

Drab,groping tunnel where I stumble dark,
Black tearing, tiring at my brain,
Here two things I ask,
Not one,
That though I'll joy to bask
Again in sun,
It will not be
The end where I came in.

Mig Holder in MAKING EDEN GROW
Scripture Union, 1974


When we are weak, we are
strong. When our eyes close
on the world, then somewhere
within us the bush

burns. When we are poor
and aware of the inadequacy
of our table, it is to that
uninvited the guest comes.


R.S.Thomas in COUNTERPOINT
Bloodaxe Books 1990