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Calm of Mind, All Passion Spent, in Mid-October Days, when the Light is Golden

By Anita Mathias

millais_autumnleavesViktor Frankl , the Jewish psychiatrist imprisoned in Auschwitz, said there were two races of men, the decent and the indecent, and he observed both races among the German concentration camp guards and the Jewish prisoners.

Well, when my children were younger, they were convinced that there were two races of men, Mathiases and non-Mathiases. Mathiases and “normal people.”

Normal people were allowed to watch television; they were allowed to play computer games; their parents rationed sweets and desserts; they had early bedtimes; their homes were tidy; their mothers cooked dinner at a sensible hour rather than lolling with them on the couch, reading them books. Mathiases, however, went with the flow, and, oh well… On the whole, I think, apart from the first two, my kids were rather glad that they were Mathiases. As for me, apart from the first two, I rather wish we had been “normal”.

Well, like my kids, I often find myself thinking in binary terms, of the two “races.”  There is me, and there are normal people. Normal people who have learnt how to cook instead of leaving it to their husbands, and who run a tidy home without thinking about it, and manage their weight without thinking about it, and walk fast for miles, who tirelessly work in their perfect gardens, normal people whose domestic lives are worthy of Instagram and Pinterest and Facebook.

* * *

In these October days when the afternoon light is golden, I work in my garden with a will. I cut back the buddleia and the roses, tug ivy from the old stone walls, and there I go snipping, heaping the wheelbarrow, trundling it off to the compost, amazed at the strength of my body, and I feel entirely normal.

This is, of course, delusional. Any “normal person” watching me would not consider me strong, I imagine, but strong is what I feel.

* * *

Milton describes his Samson Agonistes reaching “calm of mind, all passion spent,” and that is what I feel in these first October days.

I feel mellow. I have lived long, I have suffered, I have made mistakes, oh, so many mistakes, and I have learned wisdom from my folly, perhaps the wisdom was worth the sorrow. My kids learned to walk by stumbling and getting up, stumbling and getting up, with the biggest smiles of triumph on their faces. That is not just the best way to learn to walk. It is the only way. We learn from our mistakes. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom as Blake wrote.

I look at the stones in my garden, river and beach stones we have gathered from our holidays on each of which I have painted one important word. Pray. Love. Laugh. Forgive. Give. Breathe. Read. Sleep. Little garden stones with all we need to know. Remember All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten? All we really need to know we learned in Sunday School. And now the challenge of life is living it.

* * *

I look at the garden stones, and for an instant, in the glory of this golden light, I feel as if I know everything.

I laugh; this is entirely delusional, I know, as delusional as my sense that I am strong as I tug the ivy from the old stone walls around my garden.

But that is what it feels like in these magical moments of calm of mind, all passion spent, in these autumn days when the golden light shines through my garden where I sit at peace with life.

Do you know the feeling? The fleeting sense that you have attained wisdom, that you know everything, everything you need to know to live life happily, and perhaps we do, perhaps we all do, in the secret places of the heart. Perhaps all of us really know all we need to be happy, and if we could live in our gardens, in warm October days when the light is golden, perhaps we would indeed all live happily ever after.

For one doesn’t need to know very much to be wise, to be holy, to be happy. The evangelist Evan Roberts who spearheaded the astonishing Welsh Revival burnt out physically and mentally. At the depths of his burnout, he was urged to preach in church, “even one word.” He stood up, thought and said one word which contained all wisdom: Christ.

Filed Under: Applying my heart unto wisdom, In which I am amazed by the love of the Father Tagged With: Evan Roberts, Samson Agonistes, Seeking Wisdom, Viktor Frankl, welsh revival

At the End of Broken Dreams, an Open Door

By Anita Mathias

images paysages

About 20 years ago, in Williamsburg, Virginia, we used to sing this in church,  “At the end of broken dreams, an open door.”

I sung it because I liked the lyricism, but I had no interest in the open door at the end of broken dreams because then the dreams would have to be broken, right?

* * *

Well, well, well…

My daughters, choosing their own paths, ask me what my goals were when I was their age. I confess–with a wry smile–that my life barely resembles the dreams I had at 21.

Well, hello there, “failure.” Except the word has lost its sting. Sadness has given way to a shrug.

My life hasn’t worked out as I wanted…more dreaming than writing….though I perhaps have some good decades ahead of me.

And had a career worked out as I had wished, there would have been a lot more stress, busyness, pointless work, self-promotion, and exhaustion, and I would have reached middle age substantially more tired. And in worse health!

There are gains to all our losses—and some loss to all our gains. Tweet: There are gains to all our losses—and some loss to all our gains. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/12dfq+

The best thing we can do then is throw up our hands in acceptance and worship. Tweet: The best thing then that we can do is throw up our hands in acceptance and worship. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/p2l5A+ 

Failure. The beautiful thing about achieving failure is that we no longer fear it. Tweet: Failure. The beautiful thing about achieving failure is that we no longer fear it. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/Q6rf1+

Failure is a re-direction. We have been whisked into a different plot. Tweet: Failure is a re-direction. We have been whisked into a different plot. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/dg1ds+

* * *

The dreams of 20-30 years ago are not entirely “broken,” though they have morphed.

I wanted to write as beautifully as the writers I then idolised…Salman Rushdie, Vladimir Nabokov, Toni Morrison, Annie Dillard, Laurie Lee; to write with that beautiful texture, almost music. Yeah, I’d still like to.

However, that kind of writing comes out of immersion in literature, and the way life has happened…I haven’t read enough.

I took four years out of reading and writing to establish a business. At the end of that four years, I faced my broken dreams. My fingers had got stiff. My writing felt like the flightless cormorant of the Galapagos– bland, music-less, poetry-less compared to what it had been just four years ago. The instinct had gone dormant. That intricate lace-like writing which had once won me a National Endowment of the Arts award of $20,000– I couldn’t do it any more. I had lost the knack.

Broken dreams.

Once the business no longer needed my involvement for my husband is now running it, I wondered what I was going to do, how I was going to wriggle back to writing.

And I did perhaps the only thing I really know how to do… I prayed.

* * *

And, four months in limbo, I heard God suggest blogging…

That sounds like a grand way of putting it, but it’s the only accurate way!

My readers when I started were my Facebook friends…but slowly through the miracle of Google and the web and social sharing, they grew. About 10,000 people read my blogs each month, unique monthly visitors Google calls them.

And, ironically, my blogs may touch more people’s hearts, spirits and lives than the exquisite, artful writing I wanted to create. They may influence people for good on a daily basis. May help shape the way people think and perceive; help shape spirits. Blogging has been an unexpected adventure, and an unexpected gift!

* * *

I want to write beautifully, of course I do, and I will keep trying to write well until I die. Keep practising.

But what I am primarily aiming for in blogging is not a lace-maker’s artistry.

I think instead of a leaf, a kite, a raptor, catching the wings of the wind, flying high and higher as the wind lifts it.

I think of recording what God whispers to my heart.

* * *

I am trying to write–if it’s not too grand a word–“prophetically.” I try to hear what God is saying to me, and write it down. Record what I am struggling with…and the answers I have discovered. Answers which may perhaps help someone else up to the next step of the ladder.

And that’s more satisfying, healing, and enriching for my mind, heart, soul, and body than writing the beautiful literary books I wanted to.

Blogging…the open door at the end of broken dreams.

Will I ever write the books I wanted to? I believe so, though they will be different, more products of Spirit than of blood, sweat, toil and tears.

And that’s all to the good, isn’t it?

                                                                                                                                    * * *
Anyway, it’s become second nature now, when I face the rubble of broken dreams, things not turning out as I had expected, to ask, “So what’s the plot, Lord? Where’s the open door in this rubble? Show me the road I am to take.”

You come to a dead end, and there is hope in the deadness. For nothing in this world truly dies; dead seeds reappear as sheaves of wheat. Tweet: For nothing in this world truly dies; dead seeds reappear as sheaves of wheat. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/nV6G9+ Every death has some resurrection in it.

This world whispers of infinity. Pi has been computed to 10 trillion digits. 10 trillion of an infinite number of digits? Is that success or failure? It’s interwoven. There’s some failure in our bright successes, and our failures have ironic gains and golden lessons.

* * *

There are no dead ends. The door which seems closed whispers of windows.

And that window swings open….and you see the stars.

 

Tweetables

For nothing in this world truly dies; dead seeds reappear as sheaves of wheat.  From @AnitaMathias1  Tweet: For nothing in this world truly dies; dead seeds reappear as sheaves of wheat. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/nV6G9+

The best thing then that we can do is throw up our hands in acceptance and worship. From @AnitaMathias1 Tweet: The best thing then that we can do is throw up our hands in acceptance and worship. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/p2l5A+

The beautiful thing about achieving failure is that we no longer fear it. From @AnitaMathias1 Tweet: Failure. The beautiful thing about achieving failure is that we no longer fear it. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/Q6rf1+

Failure is a re-direction. We have been whisked into a different plot. From @AnitaMathias1 Tweet: Failure is a re-direction. We have been whisked into a different plot. From @AnitaMathias1 http://ctt.ec/dg1ds+

Every death has some resurrection in it. From  “At the end of broken dreams, an open door.” Tweet: Every death has some resurrection in it. From “At the end of broken dreams, an open door.” http://ctt.ec/rPodp+ @AnitaMathias1

 

 

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father, In which I bow my knee in praise and worship, Work Tagged With: blogging, broken dreams, failure, grain of wheat dying, literary writing, open doors, redemption, Resurrection, writing prophetically

On Nourishment for the Soul

By Anita Mathias

calf_sound

Sunset, Calf Sound, Isle of Man.

I love beaches. There was a five year period in which I did not see the sea–my three years reading English in Oxford, and two years at Ohio State getting a Masters in Creative Writing.

And then I saw a lot of the sea, when we lived in Stanford, Palo Alto, in Northern California while Roy was doing a postdoc in Computer Science. It was the first time I had been on a Pacific Beach.

Roy keeps reminding me of how I ran in joy on the beach, saying, “See, Roysie,” as I scooped up Pacific Ocean treasures, sea urchins, scallop shells, sand dollars, and knelt beside tidal pools with sea anemones, sea stars, sea turbans, barnacles, and hermit crabs.

I collected handfuls of beautiful pebbles, purple, pink, green, variegated, veined, and was incredulous when Roy said that they would turn dull and uninteresting once they dried.

I collected them anyway. And, unbelievably, the pebbles that shone rose, amethyst, and sea-green, indeed turned lifeless and uninviting.

Away from their natural habitat, away from the sea bathing them twice a day, sea pebbles are dull and unremarkable.

When the Holy Spirit bathes our heart, we come to life in our native colour and glory. Our sluggish dull thinking comes to life.

What is seawater for our souls? Their natural habitat? What makes us feel as if we are flying, swimming, running, instead of limping along in the daily trudge and grind?

* * *

For me, honestly, God is the sea in which I am most at home. When I am in alignment with God, when I can sense his compass, when I sense his guidance for the next stretch of the road, feel under his secret service protection, I feel as if I’m flying. I am at peace.

I am more stressed when I am trying to choose my own path. When I have not sensed God’s finger pointing to the road I am to take, I vacillate between one course of action and another. I see the pros of one, decide to adopt it, then remember the negatives.

When I flip-flop like this, one thing’s for sure: I am not hearing God’s voice. I am relying on human intelligence under pressure, an imperfect instrument at best. My vacillation means I have not heard God, and so I need to stop and pray until I have.

So what makes my soul feel verdant, cleansed, washed, as if by the sea? The presence of the Holy Spirit does.

Scripture does; it has a purifying effect, which is why Paul in Ephesians talks of being cleansed by the washing of water by the word.

Doing things slowly, in touch with God’ rhythms, in step with God does.

Rest does, adequate sleep, long country walks, solitude, the sea.

But alignment with God, most of all.

How about you? What does it take for your spirit to feel moist and cleansed, glistening and beautiful?

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father Tagged With: alignment with God, Hearing God's voice, spiritual nourishment, the ocean, the sea

When Waves of Mercy Crash Over My “If Onlys”

By Anita Mathias

Motherhood.

The land of If Onlys.

* * *

If only I’d been calmer when I was pregnant with her.

If only she’d had a higher birth weight.

If only I had breast-fed longer,

If only I had used better childcare,

Or no child-care.

If only I could have home-schooled,

Or read to the girls for longer,

Or helped them with homework,

Or spoken more positive words.

If only their parents had fought less.

If only, if only, if only, I wish….

* * *

And then, I feel them, from nowhere,

Waves of mercy, waves of grace.

They flood over me,

they pulse through me.

They pour, pour, pour.

And I see.

* * *

It’s clay. It’s all clay.

The deep blue clay of the bitter years,

The black clay of one’s failures,

Clay with streaks of silver tears,

Clay red with one’s heart’s blood.

And the best thing I can do

With my if onlys and I wishs

Is place them

In the potter’s magnificent hands

And watch

 

As he kneads,

Shapes, forms, moulds.

 

And I see, amazed,

A glorious vase emerge,

Perfect for its purpose,

In my daughter’s life,

As in my own.

 

Not what we had asked for,

Not what we had dreamed of,

Not what we had expected.

 

Something different is being fashioned

With the azure of failure,

The silver streaks of tears,

The red of one’s heart’s blood,

And the black of sadness.

 

And it is beautiful.

* * *

 

And so, I will no longer look back,

In regret

At foolish, messy yesterdays.

I will entrust yesterday to your magic

hands, O Potter, and tomorrow!

 

I will sit today,

Where waves of love

Crash over me,

 

I will sit

Where waves of mercy pour over my life.

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father, In which I play in the fields of poetry Tagged With: forgiveness, Mercy, Parenting, the potter's hands

A Revelation of Divine Love Changes the Deep Structure of our Being

By Anita Mathias

The longest distance in the world is the eighteen inches from the head to the heart.

Until our personal revelation of the love of God, we limp as Christians, impelled by duty, not desire, not love.

But we really, really change in the deep structure of our being, when we realize what Karl Barth described as the most important insight in the millions of theological words he published—God loves me.

When, as Paul prayed for the Ephesians,  we have “the power, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,  and to know this love that surpasses knowledge,” (Eph 3:17-19) it’s transformational. Paul says, mysteriously, that once we know this, we will be “filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”

I find myself able more able to endure disappointment, sadness, frustration, boredom, uncertainty, the possibility of failure, and the reality of failure (!) when I lean into the certain knowledge of the love of God for me.

* * *

Both I and my younger sister (Ph.D. in Immunology from Notre Dame University, post-doc and Cancer research at Sloan Kettering, now a partner in a Wall Street investment firm specialising in bio-tech) were raised with unrealistically high expectations.  Being amazing was a minimum requirement.

After colliding with the love of God, I frequently remind myself, “Anita, you don’t have to be amazing.” A burden drops off my shoulders. I can just be myself.

* * *

The revelation of the love of God comes in the oddest moments. I sometimes look around a messy room, and realise I am failing in an ideal I set for myself, orderliness, and then instead of feeling self-condemned, I relax into the realisation that God loves me. 

And from that, energy comes to clean the darn thing up.

* * *

I couldn’t blog well if I didn’t know in my bones that God loves me. For a good blog is an honest blog, and you cannot be honest if you fear criticism.

For in blogging, you reveal yourself—and, inevitably, reveal more than you realize. You may even reveal more than you consciously know about yourself. And what you reveal can be read wrong for people don’t read with their eyes alone: they read with their baggage.

And people can read you wrong, can decide they hate or envy you, can use things you’ve written to hurt you, or manipulate you, or wrongly label you. Oh, what an unsafe enterprise honest spiritual blogging is, and who would ever embark upon it if they did not know in their bones that God loved them?

* * *

After colliding with the love of God, I felt worries waft away like autumn leaves in the wind.

I feel relatively at peace about my relative lack of achievement, and hopeful for the future. I barely worry about sickness, money or retirement planning. I quickly convert any worries about my children to prayer. I try to convert my worries about my blog and nascent career to a strategy session in prayer.

* * *

My seminal experience of the knowledge of the love of God rooting itself in my heart and spirit happened in May 2010 during a International Leader’s School of  Ministry led by John Arnott during which I learned soaking prayer. Though at a healing service the previous month, when I had requested healing from adrenal fatigue, the vicar prayed that I receive a revelation of divine love. And just as I had dreamed that night, I felt electricity, honey, surge through my brain, and in retrospect, I see I am different.

* * *

While encountering the love of God has been transformational for me, it’s harder to pinpoint how to experience it.

My best shot:

1)   Pray to. 

“Pray that you may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Eph 3: 17-19)

And perhaps ask people to pray for you to receive this revelation of the love of God.

2 Hang out with God, just resting with him. Let prayer move beyond lists and agendas to just hanging out with God, soaking in his presence.

Here’s a quote from Brennan Manning, whose experience, interestingly, was like mine.

“My personal experience of the relentless tenderness of God came not from exegetes, theologians and spiritual writers, but from sitting still in the presence of the living Word and beseeching him to help me understand with my head and heart his written Word. Sheer scholarship alone cannot reveal to us the Gospel of grace.” (The Ragamuffin Gospel)

Have you had a revelation of the love of God? What is the best way to experience the love of God, not intellectually, but emotionally, in the depths of your being?

Image Credit 

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father Tagged With: brennan manning, Ephesians, revelation of divine love, soaking prayer, The love of God

In which Christ says, “I will let nothing be wasted.”

By Anita Mathias


 

I will “let nothing be wasted” (John 6:12).

“Nothing, Lord?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

Not the weary years,

Not the silent tears,

Not the loneliness

Which caused that deep, echoing silence

in which we could hear you?

 

None of our failures

Which silenced the insistent voices

Of those who might otherwise have found a use for us?

We were nobody and nothing;

And in the vast silence which surrounded us,

We heard your signature sound:

A whisper.

* * *

And the bad days we planted which became bad weeks,

Bad years, wasted to bickering, quarrelling, and anger?

Even them?

 

And the times I could have been happy,

But I could not forgive.

And the times I tuned out everyone to write,

Forgetting “there is nothing but love.”

 

And the times when anger and sadness and self-pity

So exhausted me that I slept, oh ten hours, half the morning.

What good can come from them?

 

“I will let nothing be wasted.”

* * *

The wise learn wisdom from your Word,

The stupid learn it from experience.

I was stupid, Lord.

 

“I will let nothing be wasted.”

* * *

And when I overworked and burned out,

And, being too exhausted to read, still tried to read,

Those wasted hours and years?

 

Nothing was wasted.

 

And I got terrified and perfectionistic,

And revised pieces of work a hundred times,

And still have not finished my big book.

 

NOTHING IS WASTED.

* * *

The friendships, Lord.

Oh, how many people I could have loved.

I see their faces on Facebook now, and see how lovely they were.

But I allowed little things to annoy me,

And read and wrote and worried

That I wasn’t reading and writing more

Forgetting there is only love.

 

The marriage years I wasted to anger,

And fear that I would never write,

Or self-pity at my lack of help.

Will I still be as fruitful

as if I had spent them in praise and thankfulness,

hidden in the holy places of the Most High?

 

I and my sweet Roy.

We could have been so happy.

Everything was, is, given us.

But how we have fought!

 

Nothing is wasted.

 

And those sweet, adorable little girls

And me adoring them, and wanting to write too,

And writing often won.

 

And why did I not get it, Lord,

That love is all that matters?

 

I was there.

With them and with you.

I was there.

Nothing was wasted.

 

From these shards of shattered hearts

I make stained glass

Through which

Light shines.

* * *

I am worried, Lord.

Will I be as good as a writer as I could have been

If I had been disciplined,

Organised, a good housekeeper

Physically fit, an early riser

Not wasted time on anger

Used fragments of time to read?

 

I see you smile. I know it sounds silly.

I  guess I am asking

“Will I be as good a writer as I might have been

If I were perfect?”

 

“Anita, to answer your question,

you will be a different writer

than if you had never wasted time

than if you had learned ‘the power of positive thinking”

than if you had learn to forgive

and run a minimalistic tidy house

and, well, had run.

 

But you will be the writer I intended you

to be from before the creation of the world.

All you lament was in my plan from the beginning of time

Your failures will help you reach a different group

Those of the human race

Who have failed as you have,

And they number more than you imagine.

 “Arise, shine, for your light has come,
See the glory of the Lord all around you.”

* * *

“Mess, Lord!
I sweep it up,

Shards, tesserae, beach glass,

Broken vases, splintered shells, beads.

Take and receive, oh Lord:

The mess I have made of the jewels

You have lavished upon me, again and again.”

* * *

Nothing is wasted, He says.

I take what you give me:

broken jewellery, broken crystal, broken children’s crafts,

kid’s toys–never assembled, parts missing,

broken pottery, broken dreams, broken body,

And my hands work instantly, busily.

 

They mould, shape, join, paste,

And from what you thought was a Psyche heap

of broken baubles they create

Such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make

Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

To keep a drowsy Emperor awake,

Or set upon a golden bough to sing

To lords and ladies of Byzantium. 

 

 

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father

In which I Remember that God Loves Me

By Anita Mathias

Nowadays, when I look around my house and see mess, or when my eyes fall on expensive books I have bought but haven’t read, or I remember a project I started enthusiastically but haven’t completed, I tell myself the same thing: “God loves me.”

When my blog is not growing; or I have been snubbed; when I realize I came across too strong, like an exuberant puppy; when I have just indulged in momentary pleasure which will be pain on the scales, I remember it, and say, “God loves me.”

I started telling myself that to comfort myself. “Oh Anita, it does not look like you will achieve your writing goals today; God loves you. You haven’t lost weight this week; God loves you.” And I believed it intellectually.

But now, I truly believe it. The knowledge wells up within me. It is the beat my pulse returns to—God loves me.

God loves me, God loves me: it has become the cry of my heart, as if reminding myself of a floor beneath which I cannot fall.  All shall be well because God loves me.

It is no longer something I consciously remind myself of. It is something my heart reminds me of: “Anita, God loves you.”

Oh girl with the messy house, God loves you. Oh girl so overwhelmed with her to do list that she’s stopped looking at it: God loves you. Oh sedentary girl who succumbed to sweet temptation, God loves you. Girl struggling with envy: God loves you. Girl who got distracted instead of writing: God loves you.

Groggy morning or too late night; disciplined day or fractured one; day when I made a fool of myself, or was ever so wise; good day, bad day, it a “God loves me” day.

It’s become the drumbeat of my heart, a reminder, comfort and also sheerest fact: “God loves me.”

 

Thank you to Kelli Woodford for her hospitality!

 

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father Tagged With: The love of God

Will We Let Anything Separate God from Our Love?

By Anita Mathias

In Romans, Paul says that nothing neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 No matter what we do, no matter what happens to us, he continues loving us. The love of God always shines on us. The pleasure of prayer remains open to us, and the power of prayer to change us (if not our circumstances).

Can we say the same? That nothing He does will stop us loving him?

That no matter what he sends us, no matter what happens, we will still love him, unconditionally?

Lord, I want to be so in you, so engrafted in you, so hidden in you, that not loving you is inconceivable, for, you and I, we’re one. I am in you, inside your heart, part of you, and you are in me, in my heart, part of me.

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father Tagged With: Romans, The love of God

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My Books

Wandering Between Two Worlds: Essays on Faith and Art

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

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The Story of Dirk Willems

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Runner Up Christian Media Awards 2014 - Tweeter of the year

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  • “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

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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!
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