Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

  • Home
  • My Books
  • Essays
  • Contact
  • About Me

Archives for 2014

Most Read Posts of 2014 on Dreaming Beneath the Spires

By Anita Mathias

card_4_blog_1052x704Roy made this collage of me over many days and many moods for my birthday. And here is my most-read writing on my blog this year

1 Yes, Praise the Lord Anyway. (Even for Loss and Fleas!)

2 Why I am no longer a Roman Catholic

3 In which I am Exasperated by an Ex-Prophet, and Write a Letter to my 70 Year Old Future Self  

4 My Experience of The Baptism in the Holy Spirit and of Speaking in Tongues

5 On Mustard Seeds and Malignant Polyps

6 Walking on the Waters, Looking at Jesus, in the Shadow of Cancer

7 When, for a season, God himself blocks you

8 Thoughts on my Twenty-fifth Wedding Anniversary

9 A Little Bit of Theology for Victims of Burglaries (Which, Alas, I Have Just Been)

10 In which I am Surprised by “Prophetic Words” (from the Glasgow Prophetic Centre at David’s Tent Worship Festival) 

And the most read guest post this year with 2248 page views was Esther Emery’s intriguing, Why I live in a yurt, off the grid, on a mountain in Idaho

Well, enjoy any you may have missed, and Happy New Year, friends

Filed Under: random Tagged With: Best Posts of 2014

Anita’s Belated 2014 Christmas Letter and Early New Year Letter

By Anita Mathias

27-IMG_1518

Friends,

Happy New Year!! May it be a year of blessing and happiness for all of us

My Christmas letter has morphed into a New Year’s letter–which is kind of how my year went!

2014! What a year! Here it is:

January—I win an all-expense paid competition to go to … Cambodia with Tearfund.

Zoe gets an offer from Oxford University to read Theology. She worked in the Bridge in Gadsden, Alabama at the end of her gap year at the School of Ministry, Catch the Fire Toronto.

February—Family trip to France—Paris and the Loire Valley. Came back to find we had been burgled. Our car too and loads of stuff. A beautiful moment to discover that we had never got around to getting homeowner’s insurance!

March—Intense trip to Cambodia. Images here.

April—I publish my first children’s book: Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man who Gave Too Much

Merry Labradoodle joins our family.

 

merry

 

anita_merry

 

May—Still exhausted after Cambodia, so go on a retreat to shake it off to El Palmeral, Spain, a retreat centre run by charming Mike and Julie Jowett.

(In fact, I have aggressive cancer, not that easily shaken off by rest and retreats!)

July—Irene wins the Anne Hogg Prize for Modern Foreign Languages (French and Spanish).

Lovely family holiday in Helsinki. (See images) I walk, walk, walk.

 

irene_anne_hogg_prize

 

August— Suddenly exhausted. I surprise Roy by continually murmuring, “I think I have cancer.” Take up running to feel better—but do not outrun cancer…

Irene goes to Poland and Germany on a school trip, and Zoe and Irene visit my mother in India.

Roy and I go to David’s Tent, a 72 hour worship festival. I’d like to go next year too. This prophecy I received was VERY significant for me, though it may seem heartbreakingly ironic in the light of the rest of year.

September—Interview by Maria Rodrigues at Premier Radio, Women to Women Show.

http://www.premierchristianradio.com/Shows/Weekday/Woman-to-Woman/Episodes/Woman-to-Woman80

I’m on at 34:30 and the interview is 55 minutes!

October—Nice trip to France at half-term.

Zoe starts at Oxford University reading theology. She has a great first term, throwing herself into all manner of activities, from Cuppers drama, to Christian Union, Christian Theologians Society, Just Love (social justice), Just Lunch (Freshers studying the Book of Amos), Family of Friends (Charismatic Oxford students) and… oh, my head’s spinning already.

Jake the Collie, who was once “obese,” (thanks vet!!), gets thinner and thinner, until he has to be carried downstairs, limps painfully, and we say a tearful goodbye. It was cancer. Not to be taken lightly

I am still tired. See doctor. Severe anemia. Colonoscopy. Visually, it looks like cancer, the endoscopist says. It quacks like cancer…

 

zoe_church_lucky

P1020446_cropped

P1020446

November— I am the runner-up for “Tweeter of the Year,” in the Christian New Media Awards, and attend a glamorous awards dinner in London.

Roy and I celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary.

Biopsy in. And it is…colon cancer! I have surgery on November 25.

December—

Biopsy in again. Fresh horrors. 45% of the lymph nodes removed have tested positive for cancer. Chemotherapy is advised. I am envious of my friends who had cancer at the same stage, declined chemo and are alive to tell the tale.

I don’t have peace declining chemo, because to go by the three oncologists I’ve spoken to, and the medical papers I’ve read, taking chemo will dramatically reduce my odds of getting cancer again, and will increase my odds of 5 year survival. Also, if it returns it may be metastatic and virtually incurable. Horrors!

So I guess I am going to go ahead with chemo next month.

10-20% of people who take the chemo combination suggested for me do not have side-effects. If you’d like to pray for me, please pray that I am among them.

I am also learning about mega-nutrition via juices and smoothies to strengthen my immune system to withstand chemo, and vanquish cancer.

Some people come out stronger at the end of chemotherapy and cancer because they start exercising and eat beautifully, my friend Azmy, a GP tells me. God willing, I will be one of them.

Stephen Jay Gould writes in his beautiful essay on his cancer, “The Median is not the Message,” “Attitude clearly matters in fighting cancer. We don’t know why (from my old-style materialistic perspective, I suspect that mental states feed back upon the immune system). But match people with the same cancer for age, class, health, socioeconomic status, and, in general, those with positive attitudes, with a strong will and purpose for living, with commitment to struggle, with an active response to aiding their own treatment and not just a passive acceptance of anything doctors say, tend to live longer. A few months later I asked Sir Peter Medawar, my personal scientific guru and a Nobelist in immunology, what the best prescription for success against cancer might be. “A sanguine personality,” he replied.”

What a year! Dear God, I don’t want to hurt your pride, or show off or anything, but I think I could have done a better job editing it! But whey-hey, I am just in the middle of the story and I do not know how God is going to work it out.

Oh yes, I was going to be positive, wasn’t I? There is a message in the bottle of cancer, and, next year, I am going to decode it. In Oxford, England, on December 21, the winter solstice, we had 16 hours 18 minutes of darkness, but also had 7 hours 42 minutes of daylight. Always some brightness on the darkest day. Next year, I will be looking for it, and cultivating a joyful and grateful heart.

The whole earth IS full of his glory.

Happy New Year, everyone

 

Love,

Anita

Filed Under: In Which my Blog Morphs into Memoir and Gets Personal, personal Tagged With: Cambodia, colon cancer, El Palmeral, France, Helsinki, labradoodles, Oxford University Theology, Spain, Tearfund

A Magical Week in France: Chenonceau, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Villandry, Bois des Moitiers, Parc de Marquenterre, Etretat

By Anita Mathias

The fairytale chateau of Chenonceau on the Loire, which, unusually, belonged to a series of women, including Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II, and his vengeful widow, Catherine de Medici, who evicted her.
34-DSCN9972

Zoe, me, Irene and Roy outside Chenonceau

27-IMG_1518

26-IMG_1456

It is imaginatively built spanning the River Cher16-DSCN9899 A fairy-tale chateau, isn’t it? I love it so much!15-DSCN9902

 

Apparently, the female owners would walk up and down this gallery with fantastic views of the river and gardens for exercise and contemplation.

28-IMG_1408A walk in Chenonceau
31-IMG_1398 38-DSCN9977

Looking upwards in Chenonceau

Impossibly ornate Notre Dame

 

02-DSCN9774 04-DSCN9792 05-DSCN9801 06-DSCN9802 07-DSCN9804 08-DSCN9807 39-IMG_1311 40-IMG_1313

 

Villandry

 

10-DSCN9854 11-DSCN9858 13-DSCN9887 14-DSCN9889

Sacre Coeur

IMG_1382_auto

 

IMG_1386_auto

Bois des Moutiers, Varengeville, Normandy

A house designed by Lutyens. Gardens designed by Gertrude Jekyll. An Arts and Crafts house. We spent a happy day in the gardens.

DSCN0040

 

DSCN0044

 

 

 

DSCN0018

 

Étretat, scenes which inspired Monet. The Alabaster Coast.

IMG_0625

Panorama of Eretrat beach from the board walk.

IMG_0622

Eretrat Beach

 

Etretat-aiguille

Eretrat Cliffs (credit)

IMG_0618

“Tudor” style building in Eretrat.

Parc du Marquenterre, We spent a golden day in this bird sanctuary on the Somme.

DSCN0005

 

 

 

Filed Under: In which I Travel and Dream Tagged With: A week in France: Chenonceau, Bois des Moitiers, Etretat, Notre Dame, Parc de Marquenterre, Sacre Coeur, Villandry

On Cancer, Suffering, and the Cloud of Unknowing

By Anita Mathias

cloud_of_unknowing_post

My father once read me a terrifying Greek myth about the giant Procrustes. Everyone who visited Procrustes fit perfectly into his bed.

When a guest was too tall, he cut their legs off. When they were too short, he “stretched” them till they fit.

It was a one-size-fits-all bed.

* * *

 Procrustean theology adjusts reality, stretches or shrinks it, until it matches one’s preconceptions.

 It is particularly applied to suffering. “Everything works out for good,” Romans 8.28, people sometimes glibly say to those who are suffering.

Voltaire satirises this belief in Candide, which I read in my twenties. Candide endures an improbable series of terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad adventures with his tutor Dr. Pangloss who believes that “all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds” Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes. (Blithe optimism is finally battered out of them. Their eventual resolution would have pleased the author of Ecclesiastes. “We must cultivate our garden.”)

In a world in which Christians are reportedly beheaded by ISIS if they do not convert, and believers die from starvation or persecution, I cannot blithely say, “Everything works out for good.”

I would say instead, “God can make anything work out for good, because God is infinitely creative.”

* * *

 Keats (once my favourite poet, now displaced by Gerald Manley Hopkins) praises “negative capability,” the capacity of tolerating “uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”

Negative capability does not come naturally to me. I prefer things clear and simple. Come on, I joined Mother Teresa to become a nun aged 17, having finished school early. At Mother Teresa’s, life was clear and simple. You were told what to think, what God’s will was (obeying your superiors, and the rule) and wasn’t; what was truth and what wasn’t.

Ah, freedom from the responsibility to think. Until one started questioning the rules, and discovered that if you agreed with their wisdom and necessity, you couldn’t keep them.

(That is always the problem with the law.)

* * *

 When, three weeks ago, I walked in alone out of the sunshine to the shadowy sixth floor Day Surgery Unit at the Churchill Hospital, it was like walking into Hades. I knew I would be wheeled out, unconscious. I considered running away, but the only alternative to surgery was aggressive chemotherapy or death, and the surgeon said surgery was the best alternative.

And anyway, I didn’t have the strength to run which sort of settled the question.

* * *

 And now I live in negative capability, dwell in “uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”

“Behind a frowning providence/ He hides a smiling face.” Does he really? I have thought as I turned over in bed in extreme pain from the surgical incision, unable to concentrate on reading or writing.

I thought of Milton. All he wanted to do from his teens onward was write something beautiful. He went blind in his forties, unable to write unless his sullen daughters transcribed his words

And that one Talent which is death to hide,

Lodg’d with me, useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker

Why did God let me develop a malignant polyp? I don’t know.

Will good come out of all these days in hospitals and nights in pain? I don’t know, though, of course, such an intense, intense experience stretches and changes you. It has forced me to learn to think positively to keep my spirits and energy high, and to pray, pray, pray, particularly because I am often too weak to do anything else.

Will good come out of my cancer diagnosis? I don’t know, though I expect so.

Will I die? Eventually, yes, though probably not of cancer, and not just yet.

And so I remain in negative capability, an eagle on the cliff waiting for the storm to pass, with more questions than answers, lingering in uncertainties, difficulty, doubt without any irritable reaching after fact or reason.

* * *

I love the Hegelian dialectic of the Psalms, their movement from unhappiness to acceptance to peace.

Why are you sad, oh my soul? David asks (Ps 43).

My soul was sad because I have had a malignant tumour.

My soul was sad because my surgical wound is infected

My soul was sad because I am physically tired.

My soul was sad because even my intellectual energy is limited.

My soul was sad because I do not know if the cancer has gone for good, though the doctors say that, as far as they know, they have removed it all.

My soul was sad because of this great interruption.

My soul was sad because I put off going in for a digital rectal exam and now I have had fifty shades of pain—surgical incisions and their infections; canulas, catheter removal, drainage tube removal, injected rectal dye for CT scans, daily anti-DVT injections, blood work, wound dressings…

* * *

 David had many more reasons to be sad—hunger, thirst, betrayal, a bloodthirsty king, an army hunting him, parents who did not esteem him.

He listed the reasons he was sad, and then by an act of intellect and character decided to snap out of it

 Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Saviour and my God.

And so I will. And so I have.

I will no longer be sad because I am a different person now than I was.

I will no longer be sad because I have a 60% chance of being alive in 5 years (70% if I take preventative chemo) and, oh, will I use those years well!

I will no longer be sad because there is nothing like the presence of death on the horizon to make you feel fully alive and joyful.

I will no longer be sad because having to make five year plans will ensure I use my time well

I am no longer sad because…well, I am just not. I have experienced peace, and joy and the presence of God over this month of being very tired indeed. (Believe it or not!)

* * *

 When I went to boarding school, aged nine, St. Mary’s Convent, Nainital in the Himalayas, then run by German and British missionary nuns, I was dismayed to find breakfast was buttered white bread and either fruit or egg.

The only way one could get hot buttered toast sprinkled with sugar was to be sick and sent to the infirmary. I shocked everyone by saying I wanted to get sick.

Well, I was sick just once in eight years, aged 12, and on that occasion I refused to go to the infirmary.

I kept chanting, “I am as fit as a fiddle. I am as fit as a fiddle,” until Sister Josephine, my Irish class teacher said, “If I hear you say that once again, I will smack you.”

When she calmed down, she realised I was refusing because she read us a chapter from The Hound of the Baskervilles on the last half hour of every Friday, and I did not want to miss it.

So she promised to come to the infirmary and read it to me and I went.

* * *

The middle of The Hound of the Baskervilles is very exciting. The phantom Hound of the Baskervilles, with menacing gleaming eyes haunts Dartmoor. It is the curse of the Baskervilles.

At the end, all is revealed, it was human greed, cunning and villainy, nothing spectral or supernatural.

Even if we are Sherlock, we cannot work out what’s going on when we are in the middle of the plot.

But you know, I believe it will be a good story, because I truly believe that God loves me, and that he is a very good writer indeed.

God’s weaving, God’s weaving my suffering into something beautiful, but I am in the middle of the story, and I cannot understand what he is doing.

But, you know, I trust him anyway.

 

Filed Under: Field notes from the Land of Suffering Tagged With: cancer, Candide, Hegelian dialectic of the Psalms, Keats, Romans 8:28, suffering, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Trust, Voltaire

My Children’s Book: Francesco, Artist of Florence, The Man Who Gave Too Much. With reviews

By Anita Mathias

francesco_hbk_front_cover_639x1050Francesco, Artist of Florence The Man Who Gave Too Much on Amazon.co.uk

Francesco, Artist of Florence : The Man Who Gave Too Much on Amazon.com (also available in Hardback)

Might your children, or your favourite children, or you yourself, enjoy my lavishly illustrated first children’s book, Francesco, Artist of Florence—a meditation on art, beauty, creativity, forgiveness and self-forgiveness set in Florence of the Renaissance?

Scroll to the end of the post for reviews.

* * *

image1_793x1037

Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much

The child gazes at the jade parrot on my jewellery box, her eyes bright and fascinated.

I come to look too.

The perky parrot grasps a cherry. He is surrounded by carnations, cosmos and lupins.

I love that little pietre dure jewellery box which I inlaid with semi-precious stones! I thought it would make a good bridal gift.

The little girl stares at it in silence, and glows. She is captivated.

“It’s twenty florins,” I say. It took me three hours to carve it, but the hours were joy.

And Signora Farnese bows, and looks helpless, and the child looks up at her, understands and her face collapses, but they both keep standing there, keep looking at it, the bambina on tiptoes.image2_lgr

 

And I say gently, “Signora, would you like it?”

She nods.  Her little daughter nods vigorously.

“How much can you afford?” I say, resigned, wishing I had remained silent.

“Seven florins,” she whispers.

I wrap it up, for the bambina has not lifted her eyes from the parrot since she entered the shop, and I would like the little box to go to one who loves it.

And the child goes out, holding it aloft, like the Corpus Christi itself, and I am repaid. image3_lgr

My little pietre dure studio in which I “painted” with inlaid precious stones in Marble was always crowded. After Duke Ferdinando I de’ Medici started collecting treasures in pietre dure, every Florentine wanted what the Medici had.

And so they thronged into the Via Ricasoli, coveting my vases, fountains, and the bowls in which I inlaid gems, creating birds which would never cease singing, and flowers which would never fadeimage4_lgr

And if I could have held out for a good price, perhaps I could have made as much money as it was rumoured Michelangelo did, or Leonardo or Masaccio. Cosimo de’ Medici paid Donatello, Brunelleschi, and Michelozzo 600,000 florins! 600,000 florins!

Perhaps I am lacking in ambition.

But my happiest hours are when I forget everything and time is no more as I work with the wafers of precious gems that the craftsmen from Ferdinand’s laboratory,
Opificio delle Pietre Dure, let me have cheaply–lapis lazuli, jade, moonstone, topaz and amethyst. I feel the smoothness of carnelian and jade beneath my fingers as I carve wild
flowers which will never wilt, and dragonflies that shall never die.

Working with them is my great good luck!

image5_lgr

 

As I carve, beauty appears. Pietre dure–inlaying semi-precious stones in marble–is indeed painting for eternity, as Ghirlandaio says. And so I carve gardens of unfading flowers, in which I place a singing bird on a golden bough to keep a drowsy emperor awake with his eternal songs.image6_lgr

 

“Francesco, Francesco, stop all this carving. How many days has the shop stayed shut while you carve and carve? Go and sell what you have made.” Elisabetta stands in the doorway of my workshop, her hands on her hips.image7_lgr

I sigh and leave to open up my shop.

And as they see me pull up the shutters, people bustle in from the Piazza del Duomo.

My heart swells when they freeze and point at the clock I placed in the window, black marble inlaid with butterflies that almost flutter.

But why doesn’t somebody buy it?

Me, though Elisabetta calls me an old fool, I never ask people to sell me things for less than they want to. If that is what they want to sell it for, I buy it, if I have the florins.  If not, I bow and leave.image8_lgr

 

 

But my customers. Bargaining! Infinite bargaining. And it makes me sad, for I price my treasures so that those who really want them, and are willing to sacrifice for them, can have a little loveliness in their homes: a cameo, a bowl, a table.

For I have longed to work with semi-precious stones I could not afford–with malachite and onyx and jasper. I have yearned to own pietre dure treasures in jade and lapis lazuli which I also could not afford. I cannot bear the thought that anyone should yearn for beauty as I have, and be unable to have it.

And so I price my art so most people can afford it, and our family can have pigeon occasionally, and I can buy Elisabetta a new brooch, and set something aside for Lucia’s dowry, and for old age, when arthritis might stiffen my fingers.

But no matter how low my prices, they are never low enough.image009_jpg

As they throng through, Signora Stallardi says, “Francesco, Caterina will be married at the Duomo next month. She is marrying a Ridolfi. I see you have marked four hundred florins for your marriage chest, but could you let me have it for three hundred?”

Three hundred florins! I smile ruefully. I have probably spent that on the gems which now gleam in the inlaid surface of the chest. However, if I sold it and took home three hundred florins today, perhaps Elisabetta might be happy…image10_lgrI run my fingers over the cool stone. I remember melding those precious stones together, my eyes rejoicing in the harmony of colour.

And I remember Caterina as a bambina, her eyes brimming with suppressed laughter; she would love my chest, as would her bambini. And I cannot argue with Signora Stallardi, who played chess against me as we grew up in the Via delle Oche—and  always won!

“Si,” I say.

As she steps out into the street, I hear her say, “Thank goodness Elisabetta wasn’t there. That old fool! He’d agree to anything.”

I bow my head, ashamed.image11_lgr

And so my day goes. Girolamo, who wrestled and played football with me in the Piazza Santa Croce, wants my table, which is exactly like the one in the Palazzo Medici Riccardi. I’ve inlaid all my wafer of semi-precious stones in those intertwined lilies and roses. I had wild hopes for it. image12_lgr

“Now, now, Francesco. No more of that; we are old friends,” he stood there, arms akimbo, brushing aside my objections.

“No, not less than a thousand florins, Girolamo,” I say. “It is the most valuable piece in my shop.”

That would cover my costs, and pay all bills for a few weeks.

“Three hundred!” he says.

Would that even cover costs?

My head spins as I try to calculate, but I can see that he will not leave without the table, so I sadly sell it to him for four hundred florins

And I can see from the suppressed glee on his face, that he too believes I have been a fool, and that he will go home and gloat.image14_lgr

 

I go home, my money bag jingling with florins, which I pour onto the sala table. How beautiful is that heap of gold with the gleaming fleur-de-lis. Elisabetta is indeed happy, until I tell her what I sold to bring them in.

“Francesco, Francesco!” she cries,  “You are just recovering the money you put in! This is no way to run a business.”

“But we have enough to pay our bills. We pay our taxes,” I protest.

“The money we spend on marble and gems is flowing back, yes, but we are barely saving anything. Carrara and Pietrasanta are
charging more and more for marble. We cannot afford to do business like this.”

“But we are living, aren’t we?” I falter. We have argued about this before, but it always confuses me.image15

 

But I bow my head for I sense she is right. Nobody else runs their business as I do.

However, when I see the eyes, the captivated eyes, the longing eyes, even the shrewd, greedy eyes of those who desperately want what I have made, I forget how much each piece cost. I just see the eyes of those who want my art.

And when I overhear people say, “He practically gave it to me,” I am filled with shame. I should have fought harder to get a fair price, but haggling is not in my nature. image16_lgr

However, when Cosimo de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, reined in his horse, pointed at my little table and murmured, and his secretary gave me a thousand florins, when I would have asked for six hundred, these things happen too.

And that paid all bills for a long time.

“There are the generous too, Elisabetta. There are the good. We eat, don’t we? And as for Lucia’s dowry–see how her beauty shines! Perhaps much will not be
demanded.”image17

We go to Mass at Santa Maria Novella, and the text is from Saint Matthew. It says the Lord will care for us as he cares for the lilies and the birds.

I glance at Elisabetta, but she looks distraught.

And I look at Masaccio’s La Trinità, the father upholding his suffering son.image18

I pray, “Lord, I am your lily, even as those I carve. As the birds of the air are yours, even so am I. Will you not protect me? Protect my family. Elisabetta says I am no better than a child. Let me come to you as you let the children.”

And we pray the prayer He taught us–that we must forgive our enemies as we hope to be forgiven.image19_lgr

I bow my head and forgive my old friends who put their interests above mine. Who kept asking, “Dear Francesco, won’t you lower your prices?” And then offered me even less, after I did so. Who plead poverty when they are rich. Whose words cannot be trusted.

These are my friends and neighbours with whom I went to abacus school, and one day I will be buried with them outside this church.

 

I forgive them. I cast their offences into the depths of the sea, as the Lord Jesus will, I pray, cast mine.

 

If I meet them tomorrow, I will meet them with a smiling face and open heart, having forgiven them, though I pray I will be wiser, firmer, for a man must learn wisdo

m from his folly.

image20

Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.

But there is one I have not forgiven, and he is the hardest to forgive.

The greatest enemy of my family, though an unwitting one, who wished them nothing but good.

And I am that enemy.image21

* * *

I, who worked so long and hard on the table, fit for the Medici, and then just let it go to Girolamo who bullied me. I do not think I made a profit on it, and I dare not calculate, for it will make me sad.

I, who cannot resist the longing in the eyes of a child, or the worry in the eyes of a father, scraping together a dowry.

I forgive myself, I say. For being too willing to please. For being so easily manipulated. For giving in to the impulses of the moment. For the soft-heartedness which makes me an easy prey.

image22

Numbers are cold, and one must deal with them coldly, but I deal with money with my heart, not my head, and how I have disappointed Elisabetta!

I must forgive myself, as I forgive all of them.

I forgive myself for how easily I gave away the fruits of my fingers, my time and labour. I forgive myself for sacrificing my interests and my family’s for my customers who cared only for their own interests.

I forgive myself for my weakness, as I forgive those who took advantage of that weakness.

image23

 

I look forward to the latter day of eternal beauty, which shall be for all creation.

I look forward to the day of eternal flowers, and the everlasting banquet when the hard-nosed shall sit with the soft-hearted, when it will be safe for the lamb to be gentle as he sits down with the lion, for the lion will now be gentle too.

I look forward to the day when time and money shall be no more, and no longer shall we need to take advantage of our neighbour, but we will dwell trustfully together in the eternal city of pure gold, whose walls are made of jasper, whose gates are made of pearls, and whose foundations are sapphire, emerald, ruby and amethyst.

image24

 

Francesco, Artist of Florence The Man Who Gave Too Much on Amazon.co.uk

Francesco, Artist of Florence : The Man Who Gave Too Much on Amazon.com (also available in Hardback)

REVIEWS

 John MacArthur—Small Wrinkles in Spacetime

Anita is an Oxford English graduate – not one of those whose faces have been screwed and desiccated by criticism of others – instead her use of words is honest, wide-eyed and lyrical, sometimes breathtakingly so. I respond to her writing with delight as one curious human being to another, almost as a child might.

Which is fortunate, since Anita Mathias‘ new book “Francesco, Artist of Florence” or ‘The Man Who Gave Too Much’ is a small, poignant testament to goodness. It is “good seed”. It takes good people to create other good people and Francesco the Florentine, always selling his beautifully inlaid work at ridiculously low prices, is a good, good man. He has no head for business, he justifies his knockdown prices by all kinds of emotional acrobatics, and worries that his wife will scold him for not making enough money.

This little book is about forgiveness, not least in learning how to forgive ourselves. For this reason, children of a certain age, full of misdemeanor and transgression, unless their fundamental goodness is established early and they learn that “forgiveness of trespasses” carries with it a completeness and totality that extends even to their own follies and mistakes, often fail later to practise the delicate but necessary art of forgiving themselves.
This book is a small, beautifully illustrated tool in the hands of an artful, imaginative parent. It should be read aloud to children, talked about, prayed with.

Anita is a master of awe and wonder. The illustrations perfectly complement a little story with the same captivating prose as “The Little Prince” and will be the kind of book that will remain on a child’s shelf, like a favorite stuffed toy, and when they are grown , they will read it again to a new, wide-eyed and curious little person.

 Adriana Cunningham of Classical Quest has written a review that is itself a work of art.

I was certain my daughter would appreciate Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much by Anita Mathias. I read it aloud to her, pausing occasionally to answer some of her questions and take careful note her responses to the images and text. It turned out to be quite a pleasurable and enriching experience for us.

We were amazed by the lush, colorful images of pietre dure in the book.

Francesco’s first person narrative helps us envision the unique struggles and quandaries an artist might have faced during the European Renaissance.

In the most tender portion of the book, Francesco turns to God in prayer and forgives those who have taken advantage of him. He then forgives himself for being weak. He resolves to henceforth approach his profession with greater wisdom and discernment. He envisions the “latter day of eternal flowers, and the everlasting banquet when the hard-nosed shall sit with the soft-hearted.”

Kim Murden’s beautiful review is also a joy in itself. Check it out.

Here’s an excerpt.

Anita’s story is illustrated with fine photos of the most exquisite work; precious stone, laid like wooden pieces in a marquetry picture, birds and flowers, scrolls, fruit, and carefully arranged tessellating shapes. Such fine colours laid against shining black marble, I notice how the natural grain of the stone is married to the shadow and contours of a fruit or the wing of a bird, the stems of the flowers are impossibly fine and the veins in the wings of a butterfly executed with a precision and symmetry that seem impossible.

Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much, is a brave children’s book: brave in subject and brave in human sentiment and spirituality. The starting point for this story is a sixteenth century artist who work in pietre dure.

In a culture where almost all the most popular children’s fiction occupies a relatively small range of possible worlds, Anita has ventured into a rare time and place, a foreign cities, lost treasures and the exceptional yet ordinary people who made them. Not content to stop there, she ventures into the emotional tensions of an artist’s life: an artist who must believe in himself and his gifting even when he receives no recognition or reward for his work.

Francesco is a artist who loves his work, bestowing upon it an almost sacred significance, creating flowers that will never fade and birds that will never die. With every selection of stone, the colours and the grain, its sympathy to the final picture, he is creating beauty that will never die, and “painting for eternity”.

Yet Francesco is troubled, a victim of the astute bargaining skills of his customers and his over ambitious ideal that every eager customer should own something of beauty for their own home.  He is not a business man. Francesco must live with the pressure of his failure to make enough money and the wrath of his disappointed wife who constantly reminds him he has not provided for the family as he should.

In church, under the gaze of Masaccio’s La Trinita, Francesco brings his weaknesses and failures to God. He must forgive the friends and associates who have taken advantage of his kindly nature and robbed him of the reward that is due for the art, but most of all he must forgive himself. He must show himself mercy, he has not fulfilled responsibilities for the un-paid bills and the much needed savings. Towards the end of the story  he says to himself, (or maybe to his God),

“I look forward to the latter day of eternal beauty, which shall be for all creation.

I look forwards to the day of eternal lowers, and the everlasting bouquet when the hard nosed shall sit with the soft hearted, when it will be safe for the lamb to be gentle as he sits down with the lion, for the lion will now be gentle too.”

Vivienne Johnson at xnmedia.co.uk writes:

This is a spiritual book aimed at children but can be enjoyed by adults alike.

This is a real family book. There is a rich vein of situations in the book that make good discussion points for children, whether it is love, greed, family priorities or forgiveness.

Adults can think about the messages of the story, which, as the story is a good parable, are many.

Small children will just love the illustrations.

I wonder if this book should be called The Man who Loved Too Much. At its heart, it is a book about love. Love of art and beauty and love of a family, and someone who loves so much he puts others ahead of himself.

It is a story of someone who sees the true value of money and puts relationships and beauty above gold coins. This does get him in trouble with his family though and his neighbours think he is foolish and mock him for his generosity.

This is an unusual book that can be read in the time it takes to have a cup of tea. But to rush through the book is to do it an injustice. I read it and then went back to reread it, savouring the images that glow from every page. For the illustrations are as much a part of the story as the words.

Francesco, Artist of Florence is a small book that you will want to hang on to and look at again and again.

Michelle Schmidt

This is a great little book. It deserves to be read on a couch, all cozied up, ideally with a child in your arms.

It’s a quiet and slow-paced read, without the razzmatazz often present in children’s books. It reminds me of the European fables I read or heard growing up, those by Leo Tolstoy.

In Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much we head to Renaissance-era Italy, where Francesco — a pietre dure artist — sells his inlaid, cut-stone creations. He’s a softie, to be sure, and finds himself in conflict between his heart and his family and his customers. We find out not the “right thing to do”, but how we respond when we feel that perhaps we didn’t do the right thing.

My 7-year old enjoyed the story. Even with the calm-and-easy telling of the story and her can’t-sit-still nature, she was happy to rest on my lap and just listen as the story unfolded. The first thing she said she liked about the story was the pictures, which surprised me. The pictures are traditional — both pietre dure pieces and Renaissance-style portraits — and I didn’t expect her to be engaged. But the opposite took place: she was intrigued by the bright colors and unique style of art.

It’s the message of the story, though, that’s the very best part and the reason I’d recommend this book to all parents and those that influence kids’ lives — both for the kids AND for themselves! Learning to make mistakes, learning to accept our weakness without giving it free-rein, learning what our souls need when we’ve been wronged — this is essential stuff. Anita Mathias gives simple, accessible, engaging instruction via story on taking care of our souls when we and others mess up.

It’s a story my daughter needed to hear and it’s a story I needed hear — and probably more than once.

Lynne Childress

Today, I have the pleasure of reviewing a really cool children’s book (maybe 8-years old and up) called “Francesco, Artist of Florence”, by Anita Mathias.

I think that this book has a really good lesson for all of us, kids included, in what passion for what you do looks like, and about how rich forgiveness is. . It is also beautiful to look at, and is illustrated with actual Renaissance-era art. Check it out!

Amazon.co.uk Reviews

Uplifting & engaging. This is a real treasure. A beautiful parable interwoven with stunning artwork. Highly Recommended! Jonathan Barber

A charming story which moved me to tears (partly because I can really relate to Francesco!) A simple but powerful prose style together with beautiful illustrations makes this a jewel of a book. I’m getting my Dad one!

As someone who wouldn’t necessarily define themselves as Christian, the Christian message of the book sat very well with me. It didn’t feel in the least prescriptive or preachy, but rather had a universal appeal. Daniel

A delightful short story that touches on themes of integrity, forgiveness and diligence. Both the images and the illustration of human nature will stay with you long after reading. I highly recommend the works of Anita Mathias – who like this story would seem to be an undiscovered gem, with a gift for revealing matters of the heart through the written word. A captivating read for both adults and children alike. A Carter

Amazon.com Reviews

Solveig Engh

Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much is a delightful story about an artist who painstakingly creates beautiful works of piete dure—pictures created by inlaying precious stones in marble. But he regularly allows people to take advantage of him when they barter to pay less than his art is worth. He cannot haggle with neighbors and friends.

Although it is billed as a children’s story, young children might not grasp the major thrust. It is not about standing one’s ground against people who violate you but about forgiving. And Francesco learns to forgive not only those who take advantage of him—but to forgive himself because he lets them do it. Nevertheless, children would enjoy the story, and eventually appreciate the message of forgiveness. I was deeply touched by the man’s heart so poignantly portrayed.

In addition, the artwork was almost unbelievably wonderful. And there are so many pictures, a veritable feast. On the left side of every open page, the text. And on the right side of every open page, what would you like to see illustrated in a book about piete dure? Piete dure, of course! High-quality photographs of the Renaissance art form feature exquisite singing birds, flowers in all stages of bloom, luscious fruit causing branches to hang low. And more. I had no idea the medium could be so intricate and so lovely. Furthermore, each illustration corresponds to Francesco’s work as described in the text.

And to add more loveliness, some illustrated pages feature copies of what I can only surmise are Renaissance paintings. I’m not even a fan of this type of art, but again, the chosen works beautifully and appropriately enhance the text.

More reviews

Jules Middleton at Apples of Gold

Anita has a lovely way with words. One of my favourite things as a child was reading books that captured my imagination as well as my heart. Francesco’s story does both.

I just love the amazing descriptions of semi precious stones, reminding me of biblical descriptions of the temple, so detailed that you can begin to picture them in your own mind. I’m a creative type and these kind of descriptions capture me, leading my imagination in a dance of colour and shape and pattern. But this book is not even reallyfor me, it’s for children who I am sure will be as captivated as I was.

This is one of those books you’ll want to keep forever! One for the grandchildren. Not only is it a lovely story but it’s a book that you will want to keep. A book you will want to read not just to your kids, but to your grandchildren, or maybe, even to yourself.

Angela Shupe at Bella Verita

As you enter into Francesco’s world you get a glimpse of 16th century Florence, an exquisite place of art and beauty through the eyes and hands of one of its struggling artisans, who introduces you to its residents. Reading Francesco’s story is a bit like taking a stroll down one of the cobbled streets of Florence, as you meet his neighbors made up of former schoolmates, children and a mother desiring to provide a worthy dowry for her daughter.

The book includes rich and vibrant illustrations of pietre dure that go hand in hand with Francesco’s story.

Although Francesco is a children’s book, readers of all ages will walk away from Mathias’ tale having had an enjoyable journey into this artisan’s world and experiencing the beauty and artistry of Florence and pietre dure.

Colin Waldock at Pilgrim

This delightful little book is a little gem.

Anita brings us a story that brings a 16th Century Florence Artist and his family to life and takes us on a journey of forgiveness.  Forgiveness for others and most importantly for ourselves.

Hazel Flood

He may be considered weak and a fool, but he is lovely. In part a reminder of Jesus.
When I read the last paragraph aloud I was choked with emotion…honestly Anita, you have written a beauty!

Simon Cutmore– it is a gem of a book and a beautiful parable and I think could be read by you and old alike.

Joanna Mitchell– I thought it was lovely – sweet and true and good — – and a bit like one of Francesco’s jewels.

Filed Under: In which I shyly share my essays and poetry Tagged With: Anita Mathias, children's book, Francesco Artist of Florence

The Creative’s Planner, 2016

By Anita Mathias

The_Creatives_Planner_Front_Cover_150_ppi_rgb_574x760

I have designed my own 2016 Planner to plan and organise my creative work, and the other things I want to keep track of. I used the blueprint in 2014, and found it brought clarity to my day and increased my productivity.

Here it is if you’d like to order a copy. On Amazon.com and on Amazon.co.uk.

It is a traditional Appointment Diary.

But there are also sections for

Food Records

A column of the usual Appointment Diary is devoted to keeping track of meals eaten. Studies say you lose twice as much weight if you record what you eat (though sadly I often forget to).

There’s a column to check if they are healthy. Keeping track of the healthiness allows for mid-course adjustments.

There’s a little box to record your daily weight, if that’s important to you.

5 Reasons for Gratitude

Space to record five things you are grateful for. Recording reasons for gratitude leads to a 25% increase in happiness, and better health. It leads to “higher levels of alertness, enthusiasm, determination, optimism, and energy.” Those who record their blessings experience “less depression and stress, were more likely to help others, exercised more regularly, and made greater progress towards achieving personal goals.”

10,000 Steps

The consensus is that 10,000 steps a day is the minimum necessary for good health, according to Britain’s NHS. It also spurs creativity. I usually fall short of this, but 2015 is a new year!!

Recording steps, and one’s progress is motivational. I use an Omron HJ-112 Digital Pocket Pedometer , very reliable.

Three Creative Projects

Donald Miller suggests working on no more than three projects at a time. I like the idea; it gives clarity. It is very peaceful and freeing.

What I Get to Enjoy Today

Listing the simple good things— time with family, reading, gardening, a walk, prayer, tidying a messy room, listening to worship music while you tidy up, a movie perhaps—helps you face your day with anticipation and joy.

If I Could Live Today Again

Another idea from Donald Miller. If you were to do a do-over of the day, what would you do? List it in the morning.

If day after day you list the same things and do not do them, something is very wrong.

Lastly,

A To Do List

Go on, order a 2015 Creative’s Planner for yourself or your favourite creative; clarify and organize your life; increase your productivity, (and support Dreaming Beneath the Spires in the process)

The Creatives’ Planner,  on Amazon.com ($11.99)

The Creatives’ Planner on Amazon.co.uk (£9.99)

Here’s a glimpse of what a page looks like.

Creatives_Planner_sample_page

Thanks. Enjoy!

Filed Under: goals, In which I celebrate discipline Tagged With: 000 steps, 10, 5 reasons for gratitude, Creative's Planner, exercise records, Food records, gratitude, Organisation, recording weight

Making a Difference Through Prayer and Writing: In Praise of Julian of Norwich

By Anita Mathias

img-Blessed-Julian-of-Norwich

I read the papers and stress rises. So much injustice! 21 million people enslaved (14 million of them in India), land-grabbing, starvation, destruction of ecosystems, precious species going extinct, the restavek system in Haiti, slavery in Qatar, and the plight of the Palestinians.

My heart sinks.

I am just one girl of limited energy. I could push against one or two of these things, but it would take all my life, and I might barely dent it.

I do have a handful of causes, which I tweet about and financially support. That’s like returning just one starfish to the sea, but it makes a difference to that starfish as Loren Eiseley wrote.

* * *

The path of an activist, of a world-changer, is admirable, but it is a calling. If you embark on it without being called to it by God, and being continuously renewed by him, you risk burning out and becoming embittered. I know I would.

Fortunately there are other ways of making a difference in the world, which are also callings.

“If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write,” ―Martin Luther.  Tweet: “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write,” ―Martin Luther.  From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/a5Fgw+

Can so pleasant a thing be a calling?

I see my calling as “a contemplative in the world” and a writer. When I compare it to real heroes like Simon Guillebaud, this seems like a bit of cop-out call, but it is, none the less, the call to which God has mercifully called me.

* * *

julian_ofNorwichI am today thinking of a real contemplative, Julian of Norwich, who was an anchorite. Anchorites were, on request, formally bricked into their cells by the ecclesiastical authorities. Once walled in, they were no longer permitted to leave.

Julian of Norwich lived bricked into a cell attached to Norwich Cathedral. One window looked onto the Tabernacle of the Cathedral; another window faced the outside world. Through this, servants brought food and removed waste, and people from every level of society, including her fellow mystic Margery Kempe came seeking advice.

And that was Julian of Norwich’s way of making a difference in the world. Read, pray, contemplate, write.

It was arduous. My head would feel ready to explode if all I did was read, think and write, if I could not go on longish walks, putter around my house and garden, see friends, go to a small group, go to church. I love contemplation and writing—but in the context of community and of physical movement.

* * *

There were remarkable medieval Christian women, saints, who played their part in the moving and shifting of Empires, Joan of Arc and Catherine of Siena among them.

But Mother Julian, all she did was think and pray and write, think and pray and write.

What could this woman who lived for decades in a single room possibly have to say to the world?

God gave her things to say. Tweet: God gave her things to say. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/6bP7G+

On the 8th May 1373, Julian of Norwich experienced a series of fifteen visions from four in the morning, till noon, with a further one that night.

They were “so compelling and so rich in meaning that Julian understood them to come directly from God and to be messages not just to herself but to all Christians.” She spent the rest of her life writing them, and “conveying her sense of their significance as it was revealed over many years of meditation” (A.C. Spearing).

Her book Revelations of Divine Love resonates 600 years later.

* * *

Here are some of her best-known thoughts, rays of light from a distant past, ancient music which still vibrates.

All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.

And this:

“He showed me a hazel nut, lying in the palm of my hand. I thought, ‘What may this be?’

And it was answered thus, ‘It is all that is made. It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it.”

I saw three properties that God made it, that God loves it, that God keeps it. The Creator, the Keeper, the Lover. For until I am substantially “oned” to him, I may never have full rest nor true bliss. That is to say, until I be so fastened to him that there is nothing that is made between my God and me.”

* * *

Here are other insights of this woman bricked into her cell who did nothing but think and pray and write.

“The greatest honor we can give Almighty God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of his love.” 

“If there is anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe, I know nothing of it, for it was not shown to me. But this was shown: that in falling and rising again we are always kept in that same precious love.” 

“Our Savior is our true Mother in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come.” 

“See that I am God. See that I am in everything. See that I do everything. See that I have never stopped ordering my works, nor ever shall, eternally. See that I lead everything on to the conclusion I ordained for it before time began, by the same power, wisdom and love with which I made it. How can anything be amiss?” 

“And I saw that truly nothing happens by accident or luck, but everything by God’s wise providence. If it seems to be accident or luck from our point of view, our blindness is the cause; for matters that have been in God’s foreseeing wisdom since before time began befall us suddenly, all unawares; and so in our blindness and ignorance we say that this is accident or luck, but to our Lord God it is not so.” 

Interestingly, the dry, crusty, cerebral T. S. Eliot was Dame Julian of Norwich’s most famous reader. He quotes her in his mysterious Four Quartets

Whatever we inherit from the fortunate
We have taken from the defeated
And all shall be well and
All manner of things shall be well
By the purification of the motive
In the ground of our beseeching.

~~~

 TWEETABLES

On making a difference through prayer and writing. In praise of Julian of Norwich. From @anitamathias1 Tweet: On making a difference through prayer and writing. In praise of Julian of Norwich. From @anitamathias1 http://ctt.ec/Dez25+

What could solitary Julian of Norwich have to say to the world? God gave her things to say From @anitamathias1 Tweet: What could solitary Julian of Norwich have to say to the world? God gave her things to say. From @anitamathias1 http://ctt.ec/bm7ap+

And all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well. From @anitamathias1 via Julian of Norwich Tweet: And all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well. From @anitamathias1 via Julian of Norwich http://ctt.ec/FL2Er+

Filed Under: In Which I celebrate Church History and Great Christians, In which I play in the fields of prayer Tagged With: contemplation, Four Quartets, Julian of Norwich, Little Gidding, making a difference through prayer and writing, Margery Kempe, Martin Luther, medieval mystics, Simon Guillebaud, T.S. Eliot

Thoughts on my Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary  

By Anita Mathias

wedding 1Scan0020_cropped_luckySo Roy and I have been married for 25 years.

It’s customary to dispense advice on such occasions, but I have little to give.

The things that have worked for us have evolved slowly. And conversely, some advice from the marriage books—“Always go to the bed at the same time,” have wasted time.

* * *

 Barbara Brown Taylor made famous the question, “What is saving your life right now?”

Well, here are some things that are saving our marriage.

1 Getting a weekly cleaner. Oh yes!

2 The weekly date. Or perhaps a walk together several times a week.

3 Deciding that throwing things is a very expensive way of resolving an argument. Tweet: Deciding that throwing things is a very expensive way of resolving an argument. http://ctt.ec/V9eeY+ From @AnitaMathias1

4 Forgiveness. A mental act of balancing. I know Roy would do most things for me, within reason, and often without reason, and when I am very angry, I place that against my reason for rage!!

I remember that I have committed to love him, and that my discipleship of Christ isn’t worth much, if I can’t love the person who loves me most.

5 Travel. Ah, travel! Travel saves our marriage (a FACT hotly disputed by my other half!)

It gives us time to be together, to see new art and architecture, to experience history, to revel in nature, to eat new foods, and laugh at (and with) new people.

It’s time out that we’d be unlikely to take at home, given our busy-bee, workaholic driven natures.

Travel is a major source of happiness, as is our garden.

6 Learning that not every criticism needs to be voiced. I now quietly think, “My, isn’t he being annoying!!” For perhaps the first twenty years, I’d declare, “Roy, you are being very annoying!” Now I roll my eyes, and return to work.

Okay, I guess most people learnt this in kindergarten, but in many ways, I am a late developer!

In fact, much of this probably sounds so blindingly obvious to any mature adult that if you stop reading right now, I’ll forgive you!

7 Me, I increasingly do life by prayer, but for years I omitted to pray faithfully for Roy, and I often still forget. Mea Culpa, and I repent.

8 When our partner felt far too infuriating for any rational adult to endure, we got help, separately, and together, from some superb Christians. We are specially grateful to our dear friend Paul Miller, author of the excellent A Praying Life for discipling us over five years.

* * *

When Ruth, spunky wife of Billy Graham, was asked if she had ever contemplated divorce, she famously said, ‘Divorce? No! Murder? Yes.’

Divorce wasn’t an option for us, either. Ah, we’ve sat in exhaustion, sighed, and said brightly, “Let’s–get–divorced!!” and grinned happily and, in that instant, it seemed as if with that act all our problems would waft away, especially what seemed like our biggest problem: each other.

But then Roy remembered that I probably would get lost on the way to the grocery store or burn my dinner, and I thought he would let the house get SO messy and lose everything in it, while he played chess all day, and he thought I would be crushed by life’s practicalities, and I thought he would get too sad without me and live on oatmeal.

And so we checked the name of our marriage certificates, discovered that apparently we were married to the right person, and so we continued.

And our marriage has got better year after year.

And so it should, so it should, for Christians, who if they are half-way, quarter-way decent at following Christ should be growing each year in mercy, pity, peace and love.

***

At our wedding, the celebrant outlined all we had going for us. We were highly educated, with Oxbridge undergraduate degrees and US advanced degrees, intelligent enough, young, healthy, with at least one profession between us.

But we had liabilities too: intensity; type-A personalities; drivenness; hot, hot tempers… In many ways, we were too like each other.

We’ve had adventures. Married in Binghamton, NY; a year in Cornell, Ithaca, New York for a post-doc for Roy; another year at Stanford, Palo Alto, California another post-doc; and then two years in Minneapolis, Minnesota yet another post-doc; then 12 years at The College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Virginia where Roy became a professor of mathematics, and then Roy won a prestigious mathematical prize and the world opened up, and there were job offers, and he was a visiting professor at the University of Manchester, and then at Oxford, and then got a chair at the University of Birmingham.

And I wrote, moving from poetry to prose, and then improbably started a business which within 3 years grew too big and too complex for me to run alone.

“20 years is far too long to be a mathematician.” I said, and Roy frowned.

Nah, I never saw the point of maths, just as he never saw the point of poetry…

And Roy quit maths to run the company I founded, morphing from a mathematician to an entrepreneur—something I can definitely see the point of!!–and I morphed from a poet to a memoirist and a blogger, writing about us on the world wide web, no doubt much to Roy’s embarrassment.

Our hair was black; now, there are shades of grey.

We were barely Christian; now we are thoroughly Christian. Yeah, we’ve come a long way, baby!

We’ve had two daughters, Zoe and Irene, happy and clever.

zoe_church_luckyIrene_french_prize

We’ve owned three homes in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Williamburg, Virginia, and Oxford, England (not at the same time).

We’ve had five dogs in the course of our marriage, all from rescues, except our current adorable, but not yet fully-trained Merry the Labradoodle.

anita_merry

We’ve travelled in so many countries. Too many to count, and we can’t, since we don’t know where our old passports are. (We’ve each changed citizenship three times, India-US-UK for me, and NZ-US-UK for Roy.) But let me try: Israel, Japan, Mexico, Costa Rica, New Zealand, Czech Republic, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Holland, Greece, Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Malta, Luxembourg, oh most European countries…

Too much travel. Probably!

* * *

Marriage is a place of belonging and acceptance. It can also be a purifying fire, a place of rapid growing up, of growth in grace, in mercy, in forgiveness and wisdom

And what comes out of the purifying fire?

Eventually gold refined until impurities vanish.

The gold of a long marriage.

* * *

Sometimes at the end of a marathon, while the completers are savouring their iced lemonade and smuggery, and the cheers have almost died down, you see a couple emerging from the mist, arms draped around each other, staggering towards the finish line.

There they are, they have done it, they have limped their marathon, they have hobbled, but they have completed it.

And here they are, ridiculously grinning, so pleased with themselves, quite oblivious of the fact that others have long finished and are now napping at home.

And that too is success of the kind. The success of persisting.

Ah, see them now, the big smile on their faces. Against the odds they’ve finished that race, they’ve kept the faith, they are ready for the next marathon.

So Happy Twenty-fifth Anniversary, Roy. Happy Twenty-fifty Anniversary Me. Happy Twenty-fifty anniversary, Us.

roy_anita_selfie_lucky

* * *

 Tweetables

What’s saving your marriage right now? Thoughts on my 25th wedding anniversary from @anitamathias1 Tweet: What’s saving your marriage right now. Thoughts on a 25th wedding anniversary. from @anitamathias1 http://ctt.ec/bcsTa+

Lessons learned from 25 years of marriage from @anitamathias1 Tweet: Lessons learned from 25 years of marriage from @anitamathias1 http://ctt.ec/XUgo2+

Filed Under: In which I celebrate friendship and relationships, Marriage and parenting Tagged With: Love, marriage, Twenty-fifth wedding anniversary

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • …
  • 16
  • Next Page »

Sign Up and Get a Free eBook!

Sign up to be emailed my blog posts (one a week) and get the ebook of "Holy Ground," my account of working with Mother Teresa.

Join 642 Other Readers

Follow me on Twitter

Follow @anitamathias1

Anita Mathias: About Me

Anita Mathias

Read my blog on Facebook

My Books

Wandering Between Two Worlds: Essays on Faith and Art

Wandering Between Two Worlds - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much

Francesco, Artist of Florence - Amazom.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

The Story of Dirk Willems

The Story of Dirk Willems - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk
Premier Digital Awards 2015 - Finalist - Blogger of the year
Runner Up Christian Media Awards 2014 - Tweeter of the year

Recent Posts

  •  On Not Wasting a Desert Experience
  • A Mind of Life and Peace in the Middle of a Global Pandemic
  • On Yoga and Following Jesus
  • Silver and Gold Linings in the Storm Clouds of Coronavirus
  • Trust: A Message of Christmas
  • Life- Changing Journaling: A Gratitude Journal, and Habit-Tracker, with Food and Exercise Logs, Time Sheets, a Bullet Journal, Goal Sheets and a Planner
  • On Loving That Which Love You Back
  • “An Autobiography in Five Chapters” and Avoiding Habitual Holes  
  • Shining Faith in Action: Dirk Willems on the Ice
  • The Story of Dirk Willems: The Man who Died to Save His Enemy

Categories

What I’m Reading

Childhood, Youth, Dependency: The Copenhagen Trilogy
Tove Ditlevsen

  The Copenhagen Trilogy  - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Amazing Faith: The Authorized Biography of Bill Bright
Michael Richardson

Amazing Faith -- Bill Bright -- Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
Stephen King

On Writing --  Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Acedia & me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life
Kathleen Norris

KATHLEEN NORRIS --  Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk


Andrew Marr


A History of the World
Amazon.com
https://amzn.to/3cC2uSl

Amazon.co.uk

Opened Ground: Poems, 1966-96
Seamus Heaney


Opened Ground: Poems, 1966-96 
Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Archive by month

INSTAGRAM

anita.mathias

Writer, Blogger, Reader, Mum. Christian. Instaing Oxford, travel, gardens and healthy meals. Oxford English alum. Writing memoir. Lives in Oxford, UK

Images from walks around Oxford. #beauty #oxford # Images from walks around Oxford. #beauty #oxford #walking #tranquility #naturephotography #nature
So we had a lovely holiday in the Southwest. And h So we had a lovely holiday in the Southwest. And here we are at one of the world’s most famous and easily recognisable sites.
#stonehenge #travel #england #prehistoric England #family #druids
And I’ve blogged https://anitamathias.com/2020/09/13/on-not-wasting-a-desert-experience/
So, after Paul the Apostle's lightning bolt encounter with the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus, he went into the desert, he tells us...
And there, he received revelation, visions, and had divine encounters. The same Judean desert, where Jesus fasted for forty days before starting his active ministry. Where Moses encountered God. Where David turned from a shepherd to a leader and a King, and more, a man after God’s own heart.  Where Elijah in the throes of a nervous breakdown hears God in a gentle whisper. 
England, where I live, like most of the world is going through a desert experience of continuing partial lockdowns. Covid-19 spreads through human contact and social life, and so we must refrain from those great pleasures. We are invited to the desert, a harsh place where pruning can occur, and spiritual fruitfulness.
A plague like this has not been known for a hundred years... John Piper, after his cancer diagnosis, exhorted people, “Don’t Waste Your Cancer”—since this was the experience God permitted you to have, and He can bring gold from it. Pandemics and plagues are permitted (though not willed or desired) by a Sovereign God, and he can bring life-change out of them. 
Let us not waste this unwanted, unchosen pandemic, this opportunity for silence, solitude and reflection. Let’s not squander on endless Zoom calls—or on the internet, which, if not used wisely, will only raise anxiety levels. Let’s instead accept the invitation to increased silence and reflection
Let's use the extra free time that many of us have long coveted and which has now been given us by Covid-19 restrictions to seek the face of God. To seek revelation. To pray. 
And to work on those projects of our hearts which have been smothered by noise, busyness, and the tumult of people and parties. To nurture the fragile dreams still alive in our hearts. The long-deferred duty or vocation
So, we are about eight weeks into lockdown, and I So, we are about eight weeks into lockdown, and I have totally sunk into the rhythm of it, and have got quiet, very quiet, the quietest spell of time I have had as an adult.
I like it. I will find going back to the sometimes frenetic merry-go-round of my old life rather hard. Well, I doubt I will go back to it. I will prune some activities, and generally live more intentionally and mindfully.
I have started blocking internet of my phone and laptop for longer periods of time, and that has brought a lot of internal quiet and peace.
Some of the things I have enjoyed during lockdown have been my daily long walks, and gardening. Well, and reading and working on a longer piece of work.
Here are some images from my walks.
And if you missed it, a blog about maintaining peace in the middle of the storm of a global pandemic
https://anitamathias.com/2020/05/04/a-mind-of-life-and-peace/  #walking #contemplating #beauty #oxford #pandemic
A few walks in Oxford in the time of quarantine. A few walks in Oxford in the time of quarantine.  We can maintain a mind of life and peace during this period of lockdown by being mindful of our minds, and regulating them through meditation; being mindful of our bodies and keeping them happy by exercise and yoga; and being mindful of our emotions in this uncertain time, and trusting God who remains in charge. A new blog on maintaining a mind of life and peace during lockdown https://anitamathias.com/2020/05/04/a-mind-of-life-and-peace/
In the days when one could still travel, i.e. Janu In the days when one could still travel, i.e. January 2020, which seems like another life, all four of us spent 10 days in Malta. I unplugged, and logged off social media, so here are some belated iphone photos of a day in Valetta.
Today, of course, there’s a lockdown, and the country’s leader is in intensive care.
When the world is too much with us, and the news stresses us, moving one’s body, as in yoga or walking, calms the mind. I am doing some Yoga with Adriene, and again seeing the similarities between the practice of Yoga and the practice of following Christ.
https://anitamathias.com/2020/04/06/on-yoga-and-following-jesus/
#valleta #valletamalta #travel #travelgram #uncagedbird
Images from some recent walks in Oxford. I am copi Images from some recent walks in Oxford.
I am coping with lockdown by really, really enjoying my daily 4 mile walk. By savouring the peace of wild things. By trusting that God will bring good out of this. With a bit of yoga, and weights. And by working a fair amount in my garden. And reading.
How are you doing?
#oxford #oxfordinlockdown #lockdown #walk #lockdownwalks #peace #beauty #happiness #joy #thepeaceofwildthings
Images of walks in Oxford in this time of social d Images of walks in Oxford in this time of social distancing. The first two are my own garden.  And I’ve https://anitamathias.com/2020/03/28/silver-and-gold-linings-in-the-storm-clouds-of-coronavirus/ #corona #socialdistancing #silverlinings #silence #solitude #peace
Trust: A Message of Christmas He came to earth in Trust: A Message of Christmas  He came to earth in a  splash of energy
And gentleness and humility.
That homeless baby in the barn
Would be the lynchpin on which history would ever after turn
Who would have thought it?
But perhaps those attuned to God’s way of surprises would not be surprised.
He was already at the centre of all things, connecting all things. * * *
Augustus Caesar issued a decree which brought him to Bethlehem,
The oppressions of colonialism and conquest brought the Messiah exactly where he was meant to be, the place prophesied eight hundred years before his birth by the Prophet Micah.
And he was already redeeming all things. The shame of unwed motherhood; the powerlessness of poverty.
He was born among animals in a barn, animals enjoying the sweetness of life, animals he created, animals precious to him.
For he created all things, and in him all things hold together
Including stars in the sky, of which a new one heralded his birth
Drawing astronomers to him.
And drawing him to the attention of an angry King
As angelic song drew shepherds to him.
An Emperor, a King, scholars, shepherds, angels, animals, stars, an unwed mother
All things in heaven and earth connected
By a homeless baby
The still point on which the world still turns. The powerful centre. The only true power.
The One who makes connections. * * *
And there is no end to the wisdom, the crystal glints of the Message that birth brings.
To me, today, it says, “Fear not, trust me, I will make a way.” The baby lay gentle in the barn
And God arranges for new stars, angelic song, wise visitors with needed finances for his sustenance in the swiftly-coming exile, shepherds to underline the anointing and reassure his parents. “Trust me in your dilemmas,” the baby still says, “I will make a way. I will show it to you.” Happy Christmas everyone.  https://anitamathias.com/2019/12/24/trust-a-message-of-christmas/ #christmas #gemalderieberlin #trust #godwillmakeaway
Look, I’ve designed a journal. It’s an omnibus Look, I’ve designed a journal. It’s an omnibus Gratitude journal, habit tracker, food and exercise journal, bullet journal, with time sheets, goal sheets and a Planner. Everything you’d like to track.  Here’s a post about it with ISBNs https://anitamathias.com/2019/12/23/life-changing-journalling/. Check it out. I hope you and your kids like it!
Load More… Follow on Instagram

© 2021 Dreaming Beneath the Spires · All Rights Reserved. · Cookie Policy · Privacy Policy