Applying my heart unto wisdom | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

In Which Drivenness Comes from the Enemy of our Souls, but Christ Gives us Balance

In her book The Soul of Money, global activist Lynne Twist refers to scarcity as “the great lie”.

Twist writes, “For me, and for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is, “I didn’t get enough sleep.” The next one is “I don’t have enough time.” Whether true or not, that thought of “not enough” occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it. We spend most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining or worrying about what we don’t have enough of.

Before we even sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something. And by the time we go to bed at night, our minds are racing with a litany of what we didn’t get, or didn’t get done, that day. We go to sleep burdened by those thoughts and wake up to that reverie of lack.

This internal condition of scarcity, this mind-set of scarcity, lives at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice, and our arguments with life.”

* * *

And so we go through life, driven. Rushing like the Gadarene swine, driven by demons they could not see over a cliff to their destruction.

Driven by pride or greed or ambition or fear to the detriment of our health, mental health, emotional health, and relationships.

Driven for validation. To prove our intelligence, superiority, spirituality, talent, worth…

Forgetting that all drivenness comes from Satan, never from God. Christ leads; Satan drives.

Driveneness comes from the Accuser and Oppressor of the Brethren, never from the Good Shepherd who gently leads us on, minute by minute, through his gentle Spirit.

At the root of drivenness lie unhealed wounds and conditional love in childhood, which gives us the sense that we need to be spectacular to be okay. That our worth is dependent on how much we produce, how much money we make, how thin and beautiful we are, how large our house and bank balance, how famous and successful we are…pick your idol.

* * *

And in our drivenness to grab the life we dream of through our own hard work, we forget that there is a better way, without bleeding fingertips and hearts and lives.

The way of prayer, and trust, and leaving room for God to work miracles.

That there is One who Makes Dreams Come True, the weaver, who can weave a technicolour dreamcoat from scraps of discarded wool

The one who can give us our wild dreams, and add no sorrow to them.

The one who says, “Honey Child, you are enough.

I like you just as you are.

Success won’t make me like you more.

Failure will only make me envelop you more.

In me, you are loved, complete.

In me, child, you are enough!

Turn your gaze to me, and let me fill up the hungry holes in your heart.

Eat me, drink me.

Turn to me when you sense Satan driving,

When you are tempted by striving,

And I will give you rest.”

* * *

My deepest spiritual experience over the last four months has been joining Overeaters Anonymous, a 12 step programme, modelled on Alcoholics Anonymous.

Step 3: Seek spiritual guidance in every area of life. So over the last few months, I have been praying over my daily schedule, revamping it under God’s direction.

I have been tithing my time to God, fulfilling a vow I made to do so if I received something I really wanted (which I did). So I spend 10% of every 24 hours in prayer, Bible study and spiritual reading. (This is a 2 year commitment, and I am self-employed; this is not a mode of being I am advocating J).

Then I am setting aside an hour a day to work in my large 1.5 acre garden, because I love being out. Working and praying in my garden is a mystical experience for me, and it’s one of the happiest things I do.

I am spending an hour a day working around the house, because that is extremely conducive to my happiness. I have things to declutter, and a library to organize. (This is a short-term project, ending when the decluttering and organizing is done. Let it be soon, Lord!)

And then I walk 10,000 steps a day (including steps gained gardening and tidying). And do 20 minutes of yoga, because it’s great for mental health and serenity, and because I can feel myself getting stiffer.

And I live with three other people, and we have a talky family life.

Prayer, Bible study, housework, walking, yoga, gardening, family life. I am leading a more Benedictine life, balancing prayer, manual work, and intellectual work. Ora et labora.

You may wonder how I’ll ever get any writing done. Well, so do I!

I am giving this worry to God, and writing as he provides me time—which is what I was advised when I had babies, and time and energy were short. I was furious at that advice then. I thought books would never get written with that laissez-faire attitude.

Well, perhaps, they will take longer, perhaps not, but they will be written in peace, in shalom, in harmony with God as he gives time, and energy, and words…

And who knows, perhaps I shall write more. Perhaps even write better. May it be so, Lord.

Does God have Favourites?

By Anita Mathias

When Jesus rose from the dead, whom did he reveal himself to first?

Mary Magdalene.

Why her?

Because she was there.Because she loved him enough to go in search of him, in sheer love, with nothing to gain from the encounter.

* * *

And why was Isaiah granted his precious vision of the Lord, seated on a throne, high and exalted, with the train of his robe, filling the temple, surrounded by winged seraphs flying and calling to one another, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord Almighty, The whole earth is full of his glory.” Because he chose to be quiet and still long enough to see the vision. To overhear the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send?” And so he volunteers, “Here I am. Send me.”

* * *

Those who hang out with God are more likely to hear and overhear what He is saying. To somehow see God’s perfect plan for their lives. To catch his vision and hear his directions. To get in on the secrets of the universe!

Forgive, but Remember Graciously. With the Wisdom of a Serpent & Gentleness of a Dove

By Anita Mathias

Woodcut by Gustave Dore

I am reading through The Book of Genesis.

Joseph’s ten older brothers hated him. Of course, they did. The favourite son with the ornamented robe, who told tales on them, to whom they bowed in their dreams–dreams they uneasily sensed were prescient.

Eight brothers wanted to kill him. Reuben suggested throwing him into a disused well (perhaps intending to regain Jacob’s favour by rescuing him). Judah suggested selling him into slavery, exchanging a pesky little brother for 20 shekels of silver.

Joseph had every reason to hate and fear them.

* * *

But when they appear, all ten, bowing before Joseph as both he and they had always suspected they would, they are different.

They express regret. “We saw how distressed he was when he pleaded with us for his life, but we would not listen,” Reuben says.

Judah, who suggested selling Joseph into slavery, now offers himself as a slave so that Benjamin can return his father. “How can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? No! Do not let me see the misery that would come upon my father.”

Twenty years ago he was perfectly capable of going to his father falsely stating that Joseph was dead. He silently observed Jacob’s misery, but did not divulge the truth—effectively ensuring that Jacob did not recover Joseph.

Twenty years and fatherhood have softened him. He is behaving like a good son and brother.

Though the brothers appear to be different—regretful about selling Joseph, mindful of Jacob’s misery, Joseph still acts with wisdom. He weeps and embraces them, but has no illusions about this family with a feral streak, so rapid to blame and betray each other. (“Why did you bring this trouble on me by telling the man you had another brother?” Jacob asks, quite irrationally. )

Forgiving is one thing. Foolishness is another. Joseph forgives, but does not entrust himself to these men who were prepared to kill him. He does not share power with them, or involve them in Pharaoh’s government. He does not invite them into his household. He relocates his brothers a safe distance from him, in Goshen on the outskirts of Egypt. He gives them no opportunity to harm him. He provides for them, but contains them.

* * *

This too is forgiveness. Be gracious and kind because that is the kind of person you want to be: gracious and kind. But be as wise as a serpent.

I love this fable in the movie, “The Crying Game.”

“Scorpion wants to cross a river, but he can’t swim. Goes to the frog, who can, and asks for a ride. Frog says, ‘If I give you a ride on my back, you’ll go and sting me.’

Scorpion replies, ‘It would not be in my interest to sting you since as I’ll be on your back we both would drown.’

Frog thinks about this logic for a while and accepts the deal. Takes the scorpion on his back. Braves the waters.

Halfway over feels a burning spear in his side and realizes the scorpion has stung him after all. And as they both sink beneath the waves the frog cries out, ‘Why did you sting me, Mr. Scorpion, for now we both will drown?’

Scorpion replies, ‘I can’t help it, it’s my nature.’”

When I remember how I have changed from my harsher teens and twenties, I know that people do change.

However, without solid evidence that they indeed have changed, it’s best to proceed with caution, being gracious, courteous and gentle as a dove, but, sadly, as guarded, wise and shrewd as the proverbial serpent.

People do change, and that is a miracle of grace—but a miracle is just that, a miracle. Do not presume on it!

* * *

Columbanus’ Letter to a Young Disciple: “When we are aware that another person has lied to us, deceived us, betrayed our trust, or deliberately misled us, if we are wise we will not easily trust them again. We are required to show them love, to meet them with forgiveness, not to close our heart to them—but trust should be earned.” (From Celtic Daily Prayer)

We must seek God on this. Sometimes, keeping the dialogue open with a sincere Christ-seeker I have had differences with clears the air and my heart feels healthier for dropping suspicion and judgement and opening channels of communication.

However, my intuitions are often wiser than my mind and conscience. I have often silenced my intuitions about people in the interests of being nice and friendly, and regretted it when words I spoke bounced back to me morphed, when my doings were reported with a malevolent spin.

Once you have been betrayed, back-stabbed, gossiped about, you must treat that person with caution. So now, when the spirit within me warns me that I am speaking to someone who envies, dislikes, or resents me, and I have the uneasy sense of being a sheep among wolves, I am wondering it might be best to limit interactions, even in social and church settings.Be guarded in my speech, politely cut the conversation short, and return to safer ground, to people to whom I can be a blessing.

* * *

The Christian life is a tight-rope walk between wisdom and agape—and we need the wisdom of Jesus to walk it, Jesus who counselled us to be as wise as a serpent but as gentle as a dove; Jesus who embodies contraries in himself, on occasion not entrusting himself to even to believers, but at times graciously saying to his betrayer, “Friend, what you are about to do, do quickly.”

This was first hosted at the blog of singer and songwriter Rebekah Gilbert. Thank you!

They do not enquire of the LORD, so they do not prosper (Jeremiah 10:21)

By Anita Mathias

I have been listening to the Old Testament as I walk around the countryside around Garsington, which is supposed to have more public footpaths than any other village in Oxfordshire (or was it England?).

The advantage of listening to huge swathes of Scripture at a time is picking up the big themes.

A phrase which often comes up—when people do something rash, foolish, misguided, or which ends very badly is “they did not enquire of the Lord.”

They did what they felt like doing, what seemed eminently sensible to them. They acted out of fear, or pragmatism, or ambition. They just omitted to enquire of the Lord.

* * *

I think enquiring of the Lord is a habit slowly acquired–but it has to be learnt, if we want a life which has the hallmarks of God’s blessing.

I particularly need this, being both decisive and impulsive. You know how Peter had enough of sadness and jumps up saying, “I’m going fishing,” in the last chapter of John. I can easily jump up and do things: commit to a course of action without thinking it through and seeing if it is the wisest and best.

Through trial and costly error, I am training myself to enquire of the Lord in big things and small: where to go on holiday; major purchases; whom to invite for dinner; what to eat for dinner!, which opportunities to take up and which to turn down; which writing projects to commit to; which books to read in my limited time; how to grow my blog….

I think of God as a silver waterfall full of grace and wisdom, and I just need to step in it, be bathed in it, and ASK to receive his guidance.

Slow me down, Lord; slow me down.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. James 1:5

Oh, what grace we often forfeit
Oh, what needless pain we bear
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer

On Extra Baggage, Making Peace with Mistakes and Cutting Emotional Losses

By Anita Mathias

So I fly on EasyJet to the Costa Blanca on a retreat at El Palmeral –though a normal heritage airline like BA would have cost the same, the timings are more convenient.

Though this may change as I grow older, I normally don’t put a high premium on great comfort for short flights. I am a cat, I find a bubble of internal peace and internal comfort in most circumstances (though I don’t do well with claustrophobic surroundings, or being in the middle seat.)

So I have the choice of paying £17 to take 3 extra kilos in my checked luggage, or taking a generous carry-on for free. Which I would need to buy. But we already own 4 carry-ons for 4 people, and solving problems and desires by throwing money at them leads to clutter.

So I pay the £17, but when I pack, it’s over the permissible 23 kg. So I stuff all the extra books into my backpack, books which I treat as road maps in my life’s pilgrimage—a spiritual book I am reading for inspiration; a literary memoir I am reading to write better; a practical memoir I am reading to live better etc.; my Bible, my journal etc. Kilos worth!

It is a cumbersome weight– and I am sad as I stagger through the cavernous halls of Gatwick with my spiritual, literary and intellectual aspirations on my back.

Yeah, I made the wrong decision. The £17 for extra luggage was money thrown away with nothing to show for it. I should have bought the biggest allowable cabin with wheels because we’d eventually wear out our luggage, or give it to the kids, one of whom will be leaving to university this autumn.

I am trying a 12 step programme, Overeaters Anonymous (which I have not yet got the hang of). It includes praying and asking God for wisdom over every decision, eating and otherwise. And I am frustrated because I did pray, but somehow still made the wrong decision!!

My husband Roy and I love to get things right every time, and neither of us are gentle with ourselves or each other when we get things wrong. I reproach myself as I take each heavy step, a mile probably, staggering under the weight of knowledge!

* * *

And then I remember that I had decided to be a positive girl, since life is short.

Mistakes and loss and waste are part of being human—part of being limited finite beings. We will grow wiser, God willing and make better decisions—but since only God is all-wise, all of us will make mistakes, and experience loss and waste as long as we live. Alas!!

Socrates, who was one of the wisest men ever known, made mistakes. When his enemies–the envious, the ignorant and the threatened—sentenced him to execution by drinking hemlock, his friends pleaded with him to flee.

But he refused. If he fled Athens, he knew he would ask pointed, inconvenient questions wherever he went, and so get into trouble wherever he went. He had voluntarily chosen to live in Athens and submit himself to the social contract. To flee would negate his life’s choices to date. And he was a philosopher, and believed a true philosopher should not fear death.

So despite all his friends weeping around him, he chose physical death rather than a choice which negated all he had taught and valued when physically alive—a choice many martyrs make.

He drank the hemlock. It was an honourable decision, but a wrong one, most people would say–his friends then, and his admirers now.

* * *

Okay, let’s look at a spiritual giant. Luke records “a prophet named Agabus took Paul’s belt, bound his own hands and feet, and said, “Thus says the Holy Spirit, ‘So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who owns this belt, and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’”

¹²Now when we heard these things, both we and those from that place pleaded with him not to go up to Jerusalem. ¹³Then Paul answered, “What do you mean by weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus”.

Paul does not say that he has prayed and been led to make this decision. It appears to be a unilateral, and perhaps hot-headed decision.

He is indeed arrested, and, I believe mistakenly and impulsively, appeals to Caesar. Who happened to be Nero. Big mistake. He is confined to the Mamertine Dungeoun. He will never be free again.

Should he have listened to the prophet who gave him a warning from the Holy Spirit; and listened to the counsel of his Christian friends? I believe so.

Spiritual giants can make mistakes.

But in the Mamertine dungeon, he wrote letters which comfort me when I feel a little bit crazy. As they have comforted billions of Christians through the ages.

God can redeem anything. It’s as if God says, “Uh-oh, plot twist. Paul should have listened to wiser counsel. And Anita made a mistake. Now let me take those crooked lines, the shattered pieces of Plan A, and make of them Plan B even more beautiful than Plan A, if they will co-operate. Because I love creating new things.”

* * *

Even intellectual giants like Socrates and spiritual giants like Paul get things wrong.

So what’s the best course of action once you’ve realized that you have made a mistake?

Cut your emotional losses. Quickly.

Thank God for the good stuff. In this case, for the strength to walk a mile or so with a heavy backpack. For the fact that I’ve learned it’s foolish to pay for extra luggage. Best get the biggest allowable carry-on, and stuff it with books. And, definitely, pack light in future.

* * *

As my life accelerates (two of my prayers for this year were acceleration and exponential—was I crazy?) I am doing more, and am naturally getting busier. Much goes right, but there is a greater potential for mistakes and loss, just as a car on the motorway is more likely to get scraped than a car in the garage.

And I am learning not to allow what goes wrong to spoil a day or an hour. In Cambodia, as I was rushing, the zip of my suitcase broke, so I left it unlocked in my hotel room, with—yuck, my wallet in it!!– with all my extra cash. I had $70 taken from my wallet, and was annoyed, but decided to shrug it off and not let it spoil a very interesting trip.

Yes, that’s the way to live, cut your emotional losses if you can’t cut your physical losses, and go through your day smilingly.

* * *

When I was 17, I wanted to be a nun, and joined Mother Teresa’s convent. Her three cardinal spiritual values were absolute surrender, loving trust and cheerfulness.

I keep coming back to them– loving trust and cheerfulness when you make mistakes. Learn what you have to learn, be grateful for the goodness that remains despite your mistakes, and go trudging on–with the biggest smile you can muster!

See What God is Blessing and Join it (Bono)

By Anita Mathias

I used to pray the way Bono says he did: In countless ways, big and small, I was always seeking the Lord’s blessing. I’d be saying, “Look, I’ve got a new song…Would you look out [for it]. I have a family; I’m going away on tour — please look after them. I have this crazy idea. Could I have a blessing on it?”

However, Bono continues, A number of years ago, I met a wise man who changed my life. This wise man asked me to stop. He said, “Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing. Get involved in what God is doing — because it’s already blessed.

Bono decided to get involved with the poor, because, as he says, “God is always with the poor.”

I believe all Christians are called to be a blessing to the poor–though some of us (I, for instance) may have other primary vocations and callings, and we may be called to bless the poor with our money, rather than with our sweat.

* * *

Like Bono, when casting about for what to throw my energy into, I try to see which area of my life God is already blessing. Where is his activity most evident? In my case, in my growing blog, my activity on social media, and in our family business.

When we are aligned with Jesus, multiplication becomes the norm, just as Jesus fed five thousand with five loaves, and spiritually feeds millions with his broken body.

A supernatural increase which we couldn’t possibly have brought about through our own efforts: I see that as a hallmark of God’s blessing.

* * *

When we decided that Roy should resign from his career as a mathematician, at which he was successful, to manage our small publishing company, I saw a mental image of the river of God rushing and flowing into our family business. Going on in academia would almost be rowing against the stream.

And indeed, the little company has been blessed over our wildest expectations. In the beginning, when we were rushed off our feet, and hugely stressed as the company took off, Roy said wryly, “Well, you got more than you asked, or dreamed of asking!!”

I stared, a bit stunned. Yes, indeed I had. I always lingered over that verse, Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, a bit sadly and not with a great deal of faith, almost as if these things were things that happened to someone else, but me, oh my imagination was so wild that God couldn’t possibly do immeasurably more than all I could ask or imagine.

Seriously, I remember, aged 17, singing “The dream I have today my Lord is only a shadow of your dream for me,” and thinking “Nah, my dreams are so wild, how can that be…”

* * *

Immeasurably more than all I can ask or imagine…there is now a page with that title in my prayer journal, and I pray that, with anticipation.

It’s a good question to ask at the start of a New Year, with all that fresh energy. What is God blessing? Where is his presence and power most apparent in my life?

For me, at the moment, in blogging and writing and business, and that shall be my year’s focus.

And so I cry out like Jabez:

Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. 1 Chron 4:10.

A City Set on a Hill cannot be Hidden: Focus on Working, not Networking

By Anita Mathias

So you are going to build a city.

Dig its foundations deep. Pour the concrete. Design your buildings. It’s your city: Put in whatever you like—the Alhambra, the Hagia Sophia, the Sagrada Familia, the Parthenon. Throw in Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey.

Decorate your buildings as you wish—with the mosaics from Ravenna, or from the Topkapi Palacein Istanbul.

It’s your city. Put in the Pre-Raphaelites, the Impressionists, Botticelli and Raphael. Have your floors inlaid marble from Florence. Have indoor fountains and reflecting pools where goldfish glide.

Throw in chandeliers and floor to ceiling windows. Let your city be full of light.

You are building your city on a hill. It cannot be hidden.

* * *

You will, in moments of lesser faith, read blogs on how to hustle, how to promote your city, how to network, make connections, build a platform.

Oh builder of cities, beware. All these things steal time and focus away from learning the art and craft of city building.

Instead, seek God for the perfect blueprint for your city. Seek his inspiration for each tower and spire, each inlaid marble floor, each wall hung with Persian carpets, and each Tiffany lamp through which light glows.

Unless love runs through your city, and the desire to meet people’s needs for beauty, joy, peace, wisdom or rest, all the promotion and hustling you do will be futile. Nobody will long linger there, buy property there, and stroll through the boulevards under shady lime trees, hand in hand with their lovers.

* * *

There is a kind of networking which is sheer joy—if you connect with people whose work you love, if you praise them honestly, interact with their work whole-heartedly, then you make friends, and this whole city-building business become more joyful.

However, flattering people for their attention; making connections for the good things these connections might bring you; befriending people to use them to promote your work—how can one ask God to bless such endeavours? Oh woman of God, flee these things.

There is a sort of hustling and self-promotion that is practical atheism. We act as if there is no God who can help people notice our city on a hill. We act as if God does not delight in good work and want people to enjoy it. We act as if God cannot even now give us twelve legions of those who will enjoy our work if we ask him. We forget the power of prayer.

And the worst thing about excessive self-promotion and connection-making? It devours the time and energy that should go into making your rare and beautiful city, set on a hill. So beautiful that at night, when the lights are switched on, and coloured fountains play, people cannot but look up and marvel; their feet itch, they yearn to walk up and explore.

And in spring, they will delight in walking through its gardens of cherry blossoms, and will sit under their shade, and look at the fields of daffodils, stretching as far as the eye can see.

* * *

Besides, the connections which matter will arise organically. Other builders of cities on hills will notice yours, and ask you managed that 150 metre spire without visible support, and you will talk about flying buttresses. And you will ask them what pigments they used for those impossibly large stained glass windows which flood their cathedrals with rainbowed light, and they will tell you.

* * *

God delights in your creativity. Build your city under his eye, as your worship to him, seeking his wisdom, in alignment with his stream of thoughts which outnumber the grains of sand on the seashore.

Let him smile, and say it is very good.

And as for the audience you’d love to have?

Remember, a city on a hill cannot be hidden. It glimmers during the day, and its light shines through the land at night.

RIP Buttercup Duck! On Accepting Your Actual Life

By Anita Mathias

The tall thin Indian Runner was killed; the fat Aylesbury mourns

Climbing out of our pond

When I was a child, I had a huge, fat bunny, two hens, two ducks and a dog. We had a large house with an acre around it.

When we bought a house in the English countryside in 2006, one of the first things I did was get two hens, two ducks, two rabbits and a dog. I bought a large house with an acre and a half around it.

Yeah, unconsciously recreating my childhood which sort of ended when I was sent to boarding school when I was nine. When my mother sent pressed flowers from whatever was in bloom, mulberries, mustard…I cried, and I cried when we left that garden when I was 14 for a flat which came with my father’s post-retirement job. Oddly, I seemed to have missed the garden and its inhabitants more than my family!!

* * *

Well, Oxfordshire has perils that Jamshedpur, India did not: foxes.

A fox ate one of our chickens, and the survivor was so traumatised that we gave it away. No more chickens.

The fox kept coming for our ducks—I looked out one evening to see a white duck seemingly levitating in a fox’s jaw. It dragged one away at 11 a.m. and though Roy chased the fox and rescued the duck, it died of shock. Another was mauled once by the fox, nursed by us, but then mauled again, and put down by the vet.

So we gave up on ducks for a while. But, oh, it was an idyllic picture to see them cluck around our yard. Ducks are the dearest birds, always happy, always cheerful, running to see you in a manic, quacking way!!

So after a duckless year or two after the maulings, we got ducks again, vowing to be very careful and put them away before dusk.

* * *

And then one day, we forget. When we remembered, and searched for them, one was killed by the fox.

The other duck was traumatised, and has spent a day and a half quacking for her friend. Ducks don’t search for a friend; they quack till the friend quacks back.

Unable to stand this desperate, agitated quacking, we have released her—well, put her on a lovely public duck pond on a river in a park, where we can go and see her. She took to it like, well, a duck to water.

* * *

I love ducks, I love watching them run and cluck and quack and eat and live so happily. But it’s really not safe having ducks out in the country—the fox comes even in the day, especially at dusk, and there are always the odd occasions when one forgets to put them away. Though I support Tony Blair’s hunting ban, and feel sorry for the mangy, terrified foxes I often see on my walks, I also hate them for their habit of killing for the sake of it.

I must admit I cried a little. I was very fond of my ducks.

When Job faced far, far more bitter losses, he said, “The Lord gives; the Lord takes away. Blessed by the name of the Lord.”

In the case of Job’s devastating loss of his children, there was no bright side.

In our case, there is. No unsightly duck house and run in our back garden. Ducks are messy critters, their droppings are unsightly, their splashing in their bathtubs we gave them destroyed the lawn. They quack to be let out of their house in the mornings, waking us up. There is a constant stress about remembering to put them away: Many a family dinner has been paused while someone runs out to herd the ducks! And their food attracts garden rats. Yeah, Ratty and Mole, not great friends of the garden.

So give up the dream and idyll of ducks quacking in my garden?? I feel sad to think of it—but yeah, I guess so. I guess having free-range chicken and ducks in fox country is a recipe for stress and failure.

At some point, one just has to accept the life one has and not the idyll we dream of. Foxes are a fact of life if you live in the country, and we will have to give up the dream of free-range poultry, or just-laid-that-morning eggs.

* * *

I adore the ocean, and often dream of living by the sea. But I have lived in Oxford for a total of 14 years. I have many friends I am fond of here, many friends on whose shoulder I could cry (and vice-versa!). I do not have the energy to move, and start again with friendships which, for me, are a vital part of life. So, maybe a small beach cottage if God provides the money, but no more moves. I am living in my dream house, and so I am going to abandon dreams of something dreamier to focus on my work.

* * *

Ah, mid-life, the restless season, mimicking our twenties in many ways. In my women’s group, almost every fortnight, someone tells of their friends or family divorcing.

Mid-life: it’s a Reality Show. You realise that barring the intervention of God (and of course, that’s an immense thing to bar) your spouse is unlikely to change. What you see is what you get. WYSIWYG. So you bail–or you accept, or you pray mightily; Roy and I are going for the last two options.

“The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s ‘own,’ or ‘real’ life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day; what one calls one’s ‘real life’ is a phantom of one’s own imagination. —They Stand Together: The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves (1914-1963) (20 December 1943).

I am tired, and sad, and mourning my duck, and the prospect of a duckless life.

But, in fact, this is my life, and I love it most days, and I will rejoice and be glad in it, in all the many things God has given me. Blessed be His Name!