Archives for August 2013

“It will be done just as you believed it would”

“It will be done just as you believed it would.” It sounds like some New Age, impossible, airy-fairy, feel-good but not true statement, doesn’t it?

But who said it? Our wise and wonderful Saviour (Matthew 8:13).

Earlier this year, I listened to the whole of Matthew on my long walks, and was forcibly struck by this: the importance of faith.

* * *

A question I’ve pondered all my Christian life is this: What makes the difference between one Christian and another? One answer is: their faith. It is their expectancy that God will answer their prayers.

I once had a Charismatic pastor a few years ago who used to say, “If you can’t see it, you can’t have it.” And I used to think, airy-fairy rubbish.

But, he’s somewhat right, I now thing. If we are working for something, let’s say on finishing a book, or developing a blog so that is will gain as many readers as it is capable of gaining, or in developing a business, we need more than a strategy. We have to someone see each part of the strategy, see it working. Else, we will work half-heartedly, at cross-purposes with ourselves, not really believing that what we hope will happen

If we cannot “see” each element of our strategy ( for instance in blog growth, in writing, business, weight loss) working, ask yourself why. Perhaps you will uncover areas of self-doubt ; perhaps you will uncover your sense that your plan is too grandiose, is a wish rather than a plan, so that you don’t really believe you can do it or it can be done.

This self-doubt, the sense that what we are working with is a dream rather than a plan can paralyse.

Go back to the drawing board. So, you doubt that you will put in the hours walking to lose 26 pounds a year. Okaay, how about a pound a month, twelve a year?

You doubt you will find the hours to write a page of your book a day? How about 250 words.

I am all for dreaming big, but if I cannot see it happening, I settle for a dream I can believe it.

It will be done just as you believed it would. But yet the power is not in our faith, the power is in God. However, I am too old, too weary, too battered to pray for things I cannot see happen (though I still dream big and wild, I assure you.)

* * *

I have just had a HUGE disappointment. Something huge which I was sure would happen—and so did not pray enough about– did not.

Would prayer have changed the outcome? YES, I believe so, for it would have changed my behaviour, and the role I played in what happened.

The good thing that happens when our prayers are not answered, is that all our theological presuppositions get thrown up into the air. And we realize again that we are dealing with mystery.

The power is not in our faith, the power in in God.

The power is not in the faithfulness of our prayers; the power is in the faithful one.

And while we definitely want to pray in the way Jesus commended, we understand that prayer is talking to God, and He himself is the land of our heart’s desire, more important, more precious and beautiful than what we say to him.

Re-opening the Ancient Wells which will Save our Lives Right Now

By Anita Mathias

In arid ancient Israel, access to artesian wells made all the difference between prosperity, survival, or famine.

And so when God blessed Isaac so that his crops reaped a hundred-fold return (Gen. 26:12) and he became very wealthy, out of envy, his enemies, the Philistines “stopped up all the wells that Abraham had built, filling them with earth.”

Today, there are almost weekly accounts of the Israeli occupation forces destroying Palestinian wells, farms and orchards. Destroying wells, sources of life, is always a very effective enemy action, leaving aridity and poverty.

* * *

Barbara Brown Taylor popularised this question: What is saving your life, right now?

Prayer and scripture and communal worship is certainly part of it.

But other things are keeping me alive too: long, slow, contemplative walks out of doors with my beloved collie Jake, my body getting into a rhythm of movement, my mind relaxing, still as a pool, until I am no longer thinking, but just being, and then suddenly a golden carp of thought pops up, unexpected and welcome.

And travel, which is complete relaxation. My mind rests from conscious thought, planning, strategizing, worrying. I shrug off my to-do list, and my uneasy Puritan imperative of ambition and must-achieve. I am just am, and am purely happy and relaxed, wandering the streets of a beautifully preserved medieval town like Troyes, France, which we visited last week, just looking, or wandering aimlessly on the alpine meadows of Switzerland, to which we drove earlier this month.

Blogging is saving my life, in that it pushes me to think, to observe, to express, to strive for beauty.

* * *

But life has blocked up several life-giving wells for me, as for all of us.

And I am opening up these wells.

Before I married, I was a voracious reader. Reading was my escape from the world, and my greatest source of joy, and I felt I needed to be alone to really disappear into a book leaving the world behind me, and I found that hard while living with other people.

I have been steadily reading less through the 23 years of our marriage, though I have recently re-launched a reading recovery programme—reading 1 page more each day than I did the day before, aiming to hit 45 pages a day, or a book a week. Concurrently, as a back-up plan since I have many books on the go, I aim to finish each book in 1 day less–30 days for book 1; 29 days for book 2, etc. This plan gets anyone to reading a book a week in 23 months.

And with reading, I have lost other sources of joy. As a child, I loved myth and legend and fairy tales and children’s stories. Sadly, I have not read much in these genres as an adult, because, well, I was an adult and thought I should be reading serious, grown-up stuff.

It’s strange that I didn’t realize that children’s stories and fairy tales and myths and legends were invented by adults, who were putting themselves back in touch with the sources of joy and delight. And we can step there with them, if we give ourselves permission to.

On holiday earlier this month in Switzerland, Italy and France, it was as if God switched a switch on in my brain, and children’s stories poured out of me, two and three a day. And writing children fiction–ah bliss, gives me “permission” to read it.

* * *

Poetry was something else I loved to read as a child, and the first genre I wrote in as an adult. My masters in creative writing was in poetry.

But then, making the correct or incorrect assessment that I probably would not have a career as a poet, I gave it up in my late twenties. It is something else I would love to resume, first reading it exhaustively, then writing it.

* * *

Our large garden was a huge source of joy as a child. I have a large garden now, even larger than my childhood garden, but in fact, though I write looking at it, it is hard to recover the habit of working in it consistently.

I would like an extraordinary garden, and would love to make time to work in it every day, for an hour, like I used to. But I have made peace with the fact that when it comes to it, I prefer writing to gardening. So, since it is better to take just a few steps in the direction of one’s dreams than none at all—I am gardening just once every few days for now.

* * *

What will re-open the wells of life and joy for us?

Examine your life. See what you are doing out of duty and habit which is not life-giving for you. (Too much internet usage? On too many rotas at church? Staying up too late doing nothing much?)

Then begin to shoehorn joy into your life, starting small—in the smallest measurable increments, steadily rebuilding

What is saving your life now? Are there wells of joy which have closed for you? Tell us in the comments.

In which Jesus Commands us Not to Judge

By Anita Mathias

Do not judge because I am the Judge, not you.

Do not judge because your quick judgement cuts you off from my flow of goodness and mercy.

Do not judge because I am the positive, creative one; your negativity cuts you from me.

Do not judge because you are not that smart; you see only in part.

Do not judge because your own experiences colour your sight.

Do not judge because you see men’s public failures, but not their secret victories, the hidden good they did, or the hidden evil they stopped short of.

Do not judge because you know nothing of people’s shaping, crippling childhoods.

Avoid those snap, imperfect judgements.

They shut you off from opportunities to learn, to see and to be kind.

Remain open. Ask me to let you see people as I see them–and as they really are.

Do not judge because your judgement is confining. People will find it hard to transcend it.

Do not judge because Satan is the accuser of the brethren, and you do not want to resemble him.

Do not judge. Keep your mind open in mercy; don’t snap it shut in judgement.

Do not judge, because this is an inexorable law I have set in motion: In the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

As you wish for mercy, offer it. As you wish to be assessed kindly, do not judge.

* * *

But Jesus, assessing people is a life-skill. I would be a sheep among wolves if I did not know how to read people.

When you must assess people—look at the fruit of their lives. Their children are a testimonial; how they treat those less important than themselves; the peacefulness of their demeanour; how they respond to reverses, and to their enemies; the things they value; the tensile strength of their relationships.

* * *

But use your tendency to swift, harsh judgment as a means of growth. See if you do the same thing. When the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eyes bothers you, see if you have a plank in your own eye.

Ask my help to remove it.

So will you use your instinctive tendency to judgement to grow, and to transcend your own weaknesses (which, ironically, will, often be in the very area in which you so swiftly judge).

Invite me into your eyes so that you will be able to see people as I see them. Invite me into your mind, as that you will be able to read people as I do.

Fail Better: Only Do Not Go Backwards

By Anita Mathias

Image Credit

The aged Abraham sends his servant back to Ur to get a wife for Isaac with these instructions, “Make sure that you do not take my son back there,” Abraham said. “Only do not take my son back there.” (Gen. 24:8).

Straight ahead lay the land of promise, the land to which he had specifically been called. Ur was the land he had been called out of.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

― Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho.

Only do not go backwards.

* * *

Failing Better with the Bible

I am reading this Genesis passage because it is my third (and final and God willing successful) attempt at blogging through the Bible. My first, in 2011, failed because I make the mistake of attempting to comment on every passage, not just on what most spoke to me in the readings of the day.

My second attempt, this January, failed because I again tried to keep up with the readings of the day, an impossible, quixotic endeavour. Blogging through the Bible on a standard reading plan of 4 passages a day involves writing 1460 posts a year. Who could write that many? And who could read them?!!

So I am trying again, taking my time, listening to what scripture is saying to me, writing that down, 2-3 posts a week at best. It will be a marathon, but reading scripture is not a sprint. It is a way of spiritual transformation.

* * *

Failing Better with Diet and Weight Loss

Sometimes success consists of just hanging in there, through plateaus. Jon Acuff writes somewhere that the diet that helped him lose 30 pounds was the diet he stuck to. There’s something to that.

But there is also something in learning from your past failures: studying what worked, and what did not work, and devising a plan likely to set you up for success.

Staying in the ring, and failing better and better until you succeed!

I have learned something from each dieting failure, for instance.

1 Weight Watchers. Ugh. Emphasis on calorie restriction kept me focused on food. Also calorie restriction may not work long term: it lowers your metabolism so that when you resume normal eating, you gain it all back!

2 Vegetarianism. Because I love carbs, I didn’t lose as much as I should have on this, and, nutritionally, substituting carbs for meat and dairy and eggs probably had dubious nutritional value.

3 Metabolic Typing Diet. Turned out that I, unusually for Asians, am a “protein type.” (A throwback to my paternal grandmother’s Portuguese grandmother, and the Portuguese on my mother’s side too?) Which means I do not metabolize carbs as easily as protein, more easily gaining weight with carbs than with meat or fish.

4 Atkins/South Beach. Being a protein type, I lose weight on these, but find it hard to get through the first two weeks!!

5 The Weigh Down Diet. The Presbyterian church I attended for a few years in Williamsburg had a Sunday School class on this eccentric diet! It was eat anything you want, as much as you want, when you are hungry, and stop when you are full.

By allowing chocolate, cookies and cheesecake, the diet aims at removing them as objects of lust. Oddly, I lost 10 pounds on this. But, nutritionally, it was nuts!

* * *

However, instead of viewing these discarded diets as failures, I have decided to view them as learning experiences. I have been very slowly losing weight (13 pounds over the last 9 months) through life-style change for life, designing a diet which includes things I’ve learned from each of my diets

1. I no longer set out to restrict calories as that lowers my metabolism, but, in effect, do so by trying to have a green smoothie and a salad at most meals.

Because of the impressive nutritional and immunological benefits of largely vegan and vegetarian meals, I am trying to eat a diet that’s largely fruit and vegetables, with some protein, according to my body’s felt needs.

2. I limit sugar, chocolate and nutritionally empty white flour or white rice.

3. I try to do a 3.5 mile walk every second day, which probably works wonders for my metabolism.

4. From the Weigh-Down Diet, I’ve learned that it’s okay to have occasional favourite meals, Indian and Chinese takeaway etc., and the occasional sweet treat. Knowing these are permitted on occasion, I do not get discouraged and resume undisciplined eating after one of these treats.

5 Another Weigh-Down Principle: Never use food as a recreational activity or for emotional needs. The risks to health are not worth it.

So I am trying to find appropriate interventions when sad, angry, bored, stressed, which do not involve calories. I am also trying to break a lifelong habit of grazing through the day, and am trying to train myself not to eat between meals unless I am truly hungry. Knowing I am not going to eat until the next meal gives me the same sense of peace and freedom as when I lock myself out of facebook, twitter, email, and newspapers!

Weight loss has been slow with many plateaus, because I am overcoming the engrained bad eating habits of a lifetime, reacquainting myself with what physical hunger feels like, learning not to eat absent-mindedly. But I am determined, whatever I do, not to go backwards.

* * *

Failing Better with Early Rising

I have, for many years, had a romantic desire to wake at 5 o’clock, and enjoy sunrise and sunset in the same day.

However, I have my most concentrated periods of thinking , writing and reading in the evenings. So cutting out a beloved productive time by going to sleep at 9 to wake at 5 felt a bit stupid to me, and my attempts to wake at 5 were short-lived.

My latest wake-early attempt began in late May, and I am now waking at 6.40 a.m., pushing it back 15 minutes every 4 days then maintaining it a bit. Should get there.

I have learned from my failures. Telling myself I have to get to bed early stresses my evening, and deprives me of productive time. So I am using bi-phasic sleeping which works very well for me: less than 8 hours at night, but a longish nap in the afternoon between two periods of work. Iris Murdoch in The Good Apprentice calls this getting two days for the price of one!

* * *

In any enterprise, running an orderly house, learning to write, becoming formidably well-read: keep proceeding, even by millimetres in the direction of your dreams, and you will achieve a success you did not dream of in lesser hours.

If you can’t proceed, rest at a plateau; just do not go backwards.

And then try again, though not using the same strategy which just failed (one definition of insanity). Instead, keep what worked, examine what failed, see how to replace it with something better, and try again, failing better until you succeed.

How about you? Are there areas in which you’ve learned from failure, and are now failing better? Or even succeeding?

The Prophet Speaks Words Before They are True: Peace! (A Guest Post by Heather Caliri)

By Anita Mathias

I was so pleased when Heather Caliri, author of Dancing Back to Jesus, offered me this beautiful guest post. Thanks so much, Heather!

simeon_1024 Bedtime went awry for no very good reason. I was done after a long day. Or: I decided it was a long day, and absolved myself from using kind words and polite questions. As my kids pulled on pajamas and brush teeth, I found myself yelling at someone taking too long to brush their teeth.

Both children asleep and still, I went into my bedroom to quiet my simmering impatience. Settling onto my bed with a pillow at my back, I pulled over the Book of Common Prayer and opened to the devotions for the close of day.

I read the prayers every night. I knew what was coming, and my chest clenched. I hate saying words I can’t live up to. That night, the disconnect was a heavy black underline.

I read the words out loud:

Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised.
for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see.

It’s the Song of Simeon, taken from Luke 2. One of the less-familiar Nativity stories, it takes place when the infant Jesus is brought to the temple. Simeon, a prophet that God promised would see the Messiah before he died, comes across the family and praises God.

But as I said them, I thought: Where is my peace? Where is my freedom? Have I seen the Savior today, or closed my eyes to Him? On nights like this Jesus seems hazy and far away, even though his commands are plain: Go and do likewise. Do unto others. Take up your cross.

Simeon’s affirmation needled me. The words tasted of failure.

I know I’m unworthy. But there’s an unworthiness that reaches up to Jesus to be pulled out of the water, and unworthiness that sinks to the bottom of the lake.

The song made me sink.

It’s a pattern I see over and over in my faith, in my pursuit of spiritual disciplines, in my reaching out to God. Sometimes my brokenness brings me to him. Sometimes it does the opposite.

Why does knowledge of my sickness send me running from the one who could heal me?

I read Simeon’s words again because I sensed I needed to be obedient. I needed to say them and ache for healing.

I have seen the Savior, I said. I have seen the Savior.

Here’s what my heart echoed back as I spoke Simeon’s song aloud:

The prophet speaks words before they are true. She is incarnating the possibility. But she lets God do the work of bringing into being.

It is hard for me to believe this no matter how much I know it: God is doing the work for me.

God is providing the peace when I am past the point of feigning it. God is opening the jail doors when I am despairing my captivity. The Savior is, as St. Patrick said, under me, over me, through me, around me, and beside me even when I am blind to His presence.

And what of this peace that Simeon celebrates? It is not the kind we’d see in a soft-focus catalog. I’ve been reading Luke 2 more closely, and seeing this:

Simeon is waiting to die. T.S. Eliot writes that his life is like a feather on the back of a hand, waiting for a breeze to blow it away.

The blessing he gives Mary and Joseph is an unsettling one: their son will cause upheaval. People will speak against him.

And for them: souls pierced by swords.

I imagine them tasting that oddly bittersweet blessing with babe in arms and wondering, again, what they have gotten themselves into.

Here is the truth: my children often pierce my soul. So does my behavior towards them. Reaching out to the Savior who is hazy and clear pierces me, God pierces me, over and over.

It is because I am pierced that I am looking for Him in the first place.

The peace I am given is just right for this complicated world, just right for a mixed-up, broken heart. A heart that waits for God to give the peace, provide the freedom, and make the words come true.

I have seen the Savior, I declare. I am free to go in peace as you have promised.

heather_pic Heather Caliri is a writer and mom from San Diego. Two years ago, she started saying little yeses to faith, art, and life. The results shocked her. Get her free e-book, Dancing Back to Jesus: Post-perfectionist faith in five easy verbs, on her blog, A Little Yes.

Playdates with God: Because All the World is a Wonderland: A Guest Post by Laura Boggess

By Anita Mathias

Laura Boggess’s writing and spirituality is as outrageously beautiful as she is. I’ve loved reading about her magical playdates with God on her blog –with some envy, both for the joy and freshness of her spirituality, and for the loveliness of the idea.

I am so excited that Laura is on my blog today, telling us more about how she began and continues with her spiritual practice of playdates with God. Welcome Laura!

rain_and_books_4_blog Last night after dinner the electricity went off. A white sky illuminated the night outside, silhouetting our usual, and I stared at my laptop in the dark…no internet connection… the screen an island of light in the room. Our two boys clamored—wound up by darkness, and excitement pulsed as their daddy lit candles and checked the weather on his iPhone.

We sat in the hush and listened to the wind blow the deck furniture around. It was late—after ten—so I tucked protesting boys in with a candle gently flickering—thinking of Little House on the Prairie and savoring the play of the warm glow on their still young faces.

I returned to the couch in the dark.

We sat in silence, my man and I; listened to driving rain turn to gentle patter, watched the play of lightning on hills in the distance. For once, no hum of air conditioner, no mindless buzz of refrigerator, dishwasher still in silence. All of our daily companions closed their eyes in this gauzy darkness.

There was only the soft ticking of the mantle clock keeping time with the faint strumming of droplets colliding with window glass, only to slide down and lose form in a streaky stream.

We giggled a little at our loss, wondered how did they do it? with no electricity…only talk to spend. We marveled at work-filled days and talk-filled evenings and fell in to silence.

I closed my eyes in the dark and felt God sitting beside me.

Silence feels good to me. I find it by sitting still. By looking deeper into what is already here.

Always a solitary child, that’s me. I can fall into His arms in the quiet and never desire to leave. All my life this is where I have rested. Safe from jabbing words of others; hidden from the wounding talk.

I know it’s not that way for everyone. And lately, besieged by life and fraught with hope, I’ve been wondering, Is there another way? Because sometimes life doesn’t bend for this slowing down. Sometimes it takes a power outage for me to be still and listen.

God is always the same, yes, this I know. But I have also come to learn that He loves to mix things up. He understands the human tendency to grow stale when patterns are established. He loves surprises. He likes to keep our love fresh and new. This year has been a crazy mixed up year for finding God for me. My years of early morning quiet time suddenly ceased to feel intimate. For the first time in years I found myself falling asleep with my cheek pressed to the dining room floor at 5 a.m. Saturated.

It was time for something new.

I began to step out of my comfort zone. To explore new ways of praying. Once a week I try to do something new with God. I call these my Playdates with God. Funny how, trying this once a week has opened my eyes to finding the new in the old. Like my daily runs. I’ve been running since I was thirteen, but lately…I find God when I run. I feel Him in my legs, in my breath, in the acceleration of my beating heart. He meets me in the sky and the trees and the way the light changes colors on the horizon.

This morning when I ran, the storm was still fresh on the sidewalk. Fallen branches and stray leaves littered the street. The creek was rushing its banks and the smell of muddy water rose dense into the air around me. A handful of black crows perched on the utility wires above me, caw, caw, caw…

As my feet pounded the pavement, I remembered a poem a dear friend sent me. In it, she tells me that I am birdsong, and those words have lifted me on the darkest of days. My heart soars as I imagine music in my stride. And as I go on, I am lifted into its melody, and a new poem takes wing:

I fly away
singing—
flutter my
wings
through misty
windows
in the sky;
dip fingertips
in morning dew-
cups, silky
petals collect
evening honey,
and offer this
sweet frieze to
me in the golden
shimmer of
dawn. I am
free. I am…
birdsong.

I grow when I look for the Holy in the not usual way. God loves for me to seek after Him in wild and beautiful ways. Writing poetry doesn’t seem so crazy a way to pray. Nor does running.

He’s there. He’s in it all.

Where do you find God in your day-to-day life?

Leafwood headshot 023_smlr_autocorr

Laura Boggess is crazy in love with Jesus. And after many years of the try-hard life she is finally learning to accept that He loves her too. A recovering list-maker worn out from trying to earn grace, Laura is now stepping into Christ’s invitation to come to Him like a little child—with open hands, surrendered to grace.

Laura Boggess has an M.A. in clinical psychology and works in a medical rehabilitation hospital—helping patients and their families cope with traumatic diagnoses such as brain injury, spinal cord injury, and stroke. She believes in the healing power of story and often uses storytelling in therapy. She is the author of two books in the Wings of Klaio series, a Christian fiction series for teens. Watch for her new book Playdates with God: Because All the World is a Wonderland, to be released in the spring of 2014.

Laura is active in the women’s ministries at her church and is a regular speaker at churches throughout her region. She is a contributing editor at The High Calling (thehighcalling.org) and blogs at The Wellspring (http://lauraboggess.com). Laura lives in a little valley in West Virginia with her husband, Jeff, and their two sons. She is passionate about sharing Jesus and stories and loves a happy ending.

Our Summer Holiday in Switzerland, 2003 and 2013

By Anita Mathias

Switzerland 2013

It’s our second holiday in Switzerland. We last came here 10 years ago, in 2013, when Zoe was 8 and Irene just 4.

It’s amazing coming back to our favourite places like the Lauterbrunnen Valley and the Trummelbach Falls ten years later, doing some of the same things, and reflecting on how much has changed.

We had rented a campervan that time. Now we’ve driven in our own campervan (RV). We left our dog in a kennel that time; now we’ve brought our dog, lovely Jake instead of lovely Trooper, whom we gave away when we left the US.

I was not a blogger then, and did not own a business. It was pre-Facebook and pre-Twitter, and we did not miss being disconnected from the world. I had a few essays out, and an (abortive) book proposal and checked on them at internet cafes, and emailed a few friends.

Now, I have a WiFi hotspot which works anywhere in the world, pretty much, so am as connected as at home–and like it that way, though obviously, I am not spending much time reading blogs, FB statuses, or tweets.

We’ve brought technology with us, laptops, iPads, iPhones, iPods, each to his or her own, because the internet, the world wide flow of knowledge is an extension of ourselves, has become part of the way we think (continually researching areas of curiosity) and the way we do life. We are unapologetic about it!!

We’ve changed; the world has changed; human consciousness has changed. Facebook, Twitter, blogs—all these barely existed ten years ago. They are now part of how I do life. Just like recording in a journal gets one to slow down, and take it all in, sharing your life in a blog or Facebook enforces a beneficial slowing down, paying attention, and reaching out and connecting which is a universal human impulse. Knowing I am going to write about it, photographing things as I go, enforces a heightened attention and I think that is a good thing.

Ten years ago, we lived in America and were American citizens. Now we live in England, and are British citizens too. Ten years, ago, we blinked at the stressfully high Swiss prices. Now, having living in England for 9 years, we’ve become inured to high prices.

Ten years, ago we had wild lively children, heard long before they were seen. Now we have savvy teenagers. Ten years ago, they would volunteer to cook us a meal at the campground kitchen and it was an grand adventure. Now, they’d rather read.

Ten years ago, we were intimidated by Swiss glares when the children were heard as well as seen, and by general Swiss dourness. Now, bah, the Swiss are just people, and if they frown and glare, I shrug! (Besides, they definitely seem to have grown nicer, or perhaps I have!)

Internally, I am happier, deeper, more content, more rooted in God. I have learned the secret of the bluebird of happiness. She lives within, that wild thing, and one must burrow within to find her.

A few then-and-now photos:

: Jake the Collie, with one eye blue and one brown, has been a photographed by many tourists to Switzerland!

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Some photos of the fortified hilltop village Gruyères (from where Gruyère cheese comes from). The symbol of Gruyères is the stork (gru, in French).

Driving along the winding road, on suddenly sees a fortified village

Looking out of Gruyères’ entrance.

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The “gru” is everywhere.

Medieval feast of St. John the Baptist, re-enacted 2003.

Switzerland has gorgeous scenery. All but one of these are from the Lauterbrunnen vallley.

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Dreaming in Laon Cathedral, Northern France.

By Anita Mathias

Laon Cathedral (Facade)

I’ve long wanted to see Laon Cathedral in Northern France, which featured in the Cathedrals of Europe course I took at Oxford University’s Continuing Education.

It was an enchanted sacred space, with Gregorian chant echoing through it.

Funny, when I am in a Gothic cathedral, I think of it as my soul’s natural home.

Laon Cathedral (Arches above the right aisle)

Laon Cathedral (triforium and clerestory)

Laon Cathedral choir. (Note the floor)

Laon Cathedral (Medieval stained glass)

Laon Cathedral (More recent stained glass)

These Gothic cathedrals built during medieval Europe’s building boom were sublime expressions of a community’s devotion. Entire towns and villages, men, women and children worked together to haul massive slabs of granite uphill, (often in silence, eye-witnesses say) to construct these noble edifices to the glory of God.

The gargoyles outside Laon Cathedral, unusually, memorialize the noble oxen who hefted the granite up the steep hill to the cathedral.

Oxen memorialised at the top of Laon cathedral.

Dragon on the facade of Laon Cathedral..

An icon of Jesus in Laon has made it a place of pilgrimage. I didn’t particularly care for the icon, but it did express one feature of the Messiah as mentioned in Isaiah, “He had no beauty that we should desire him.”