El Palmeral Retreat Centre

 Monday 5th May

1 In which Michelle is encouraged by how ordinary I am—“ A year ago my sister, Janae, told me to follow this lady named Anita Mathias on Twitter. My sister is cool, so I did what she said. And I’m glad I did. Anita has been a dependable source of refreshment and peace on my otherwise maniacal Twitter feed. Her writing is filled with spiritual insights and joy — but what I love the most about her is how ordinary she seems. We’re so used to following these wildly hilarious and profoundly daring personalities, none of which are very much like me. That Anita is just herself gives me hope.”

Oh and read on for Michelle Schmidt’s review of my first children’s book, Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much

Tuesday May 6th

1 Walked yesterday in the Curate’s Garden in Elche–full of date trees, the foundation of many economies from Morocco to North Africa. Apparently, Arab sailors took dates on long sea voyages for vitamin C (as the seaman from Genoa took pesto!).

Amazed at the varieties of cactus plants–God’s beautiful abundance scattered in deserts and mountain valleys whether there is anyone to appreciate them or not.

God creates beauty for the sheer joy of it, because that is his nature.

I now blog like that. There is something mysterious about blogging—one cannot predict the response to a piece, and often the pieces we just toss off do the best. If one senses a call to blog, you just continue faithfully, writing down the vision and making it plain, writing what you hear God say to you, and leave the reception of the work to him.

2 I was dropped off at the garden for two hours. It was relatively small and I walked around it several times. I was going back and forth on several issues, but just walking alone, sitting and thinking–it is amazing how clarity came.

I was inexplicably burnt out last month. Burn-out, like joy, picks its own timetable, but walking alone here, in an arid region of Spain is restoring joy to my heart.  I find myself thinking more clearly, praying spontaneously and joyfully, in tongues.

Wednesday 7th May

1 I have seen the abbreviation IHS on dozens of Catholics cards and bookmarks, and it was embroidered on the altar cloths of the chapel. It’s Greek. It is the first three letters of the Greek spelling of Jesus,   ιησους which is transliterated as “ihsous.” And essentially means Jesus.

2 Paprika, I have just thought of it as a spice, but, apparently, it is powdered red peppers, or chili peppers.

3 Our British hosts told us a chilling story of a car-jacking. They were driving in Valencia, when they suddenly got a flat tire–or so they thought. They pulled to the side of the road, and a couple of men on a motorcycle came up ostensibly to help them. When they got back into the car, her handbag was gone, with her money, credit cards, driving licence, housekeys etc. So if you get a flat in Spain and get help, know where your handbag is.

4 Our host, Julie Jowett, cooks delicious Spanish regional food–which I really enjoy–Patata Bravas, tender Moorish lamb, Cordero Murono, Tortilla Espanola, and  Patatas a lo Pobre 

4 The Costa Blanca is very much British ex-pat country. Our hosts were British, as were their neighbours who are farming a small pomegranate grove. My elderly seatmate on my flight is farming an orange grove. The water table is 8 feet below ground level, and they have been encouraged not to water the orange trees, but let the root delve deep into the water table.

Thursday 8th

1 On earrings and inheritances.

We were looking at the Prodigal Son who blew his inheritance.

When he gets back, he gets everything his heart needs–acceptance, belonging, lavishness—a home, a rich robe, a ring, a good meal. What he does not get back is the inheritance he squandered. The Father tells the older son, “Everything I have is yours.” The elder son is not stiffed; the prodigal son does not get the older brother’s share of the inheritance, but still gets all that is necessary for his complete joy.

There is truth to that. The years and time we have blown–through sin, laziness, self-pity, anger–we have blown. But if we turn to God, our hearts can still find the fullness of joy.

I share this thought  with the group, fiddle with my earrings, and realise I have lost my great-grandmother’s earrings, rubies, with a dangly pearl and ruby bit, which I have worn every day for thirty years and never lost. I am upset and retrace my steps, bedroom

God has a sense of humour and he’s a no-bullshit God. I just said that what is lost is lost, but in God we can still find everything our heart desires. Was it theory or do I really believe it?

Life brings reverses, but I really do believe we get to choose how happy we are, or how sad!   After a bit more looking, and a bit of mourning, I decide to join St. Teresa of Avila in her prayer,

Let nothing disturb thee,
Nothing affright thee
All things are passing;
God never changeth;
Who God possesseth
In nothing is wanting;
God alone sufficeth.

A verse which has saved my life a few times is “Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid,” (John 14:27). And each time I reminded myself of this either what I dreaded did not happen (Mark Twain: I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened) –OR it did happen, and I had strength to cope with it, and good came out of that dark plot twist.

 So I decided that I would let nothing disturb me, but continue being happy. And God smiled—and perhaps said, Okay honey, I just wanted to reinforce the lessons I have been teaching you–and soon after that, I found the 3 missing pieces scattered around my large suite. Thank you Jesus.

I had prayed. Yes, and it felt like magic happened. And it would have been magic too if I had felt peace in the loss. God is good like that.

Friday 9th May

We went out for tapas last night—delicious: Fried cubed goat’s cheese, fried mushroom and bacon, grated potatoes and sausage, tender pork, roasted wild garlic…

At El Palmeral Retreat Centre, Costa Blanca, Spain, we were invited to help ourselves to fruit from this tree, a cross between an apricot and kiwi fruit (in taste)

 Labyrinth, El Palmeral Retreat Centre, Costa Blanca, Spain

Wednesday 30th April

1 Micha Boyett asks, “Do we really have something worthwhile to say every day?”

Hmm. I believe God does have something worthwhile to say every day.  A. W. Tozer writes,  “God is forever seeking to speak to His creation. The whole Bible supports the idea. God is speaking. Not God spoke, but God is speaking. He is by His nature continuously articulate. He fills the world with His speaking Voice.”

And I believe God says something worthwhile to us every day. And perhaps if we listen to him, and “write down the vision and make it plain,” we will have something worthwhile to say every day.

Which is not to say that we need to say it!! I aim to blog every second day, or even every third day.

2 I am listening to Galatians as I walk. It takes me half a mile of walking at my puppy’s pace to listen to the entire book. I have listened it to in the New Living Translation a few times, in the NIV a few times, and in the Message. The Message is my favourite translation of Galatians. I have listened to it several times, and can’t get enough of it. So beautiful.

3 George Monbiot on British subsidies under David Cameron for grouse moors and shotguns for pheasant hunts (£50 for a gun licence, while the background checks cost £196). Iniquitous.

Thursday May 1

1 Meaningless said the preacher, all is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes). Except loving God and finding joy in your work, he concludes.

More and more, as I observe things that people lavish their intensity on, I realise that they are simply inconsequential and meaningless.

And I need to remember that about the things I get intense about. Love God and love your work and find joy in it–there is a lot to be said for the solution of the Preacher of Ecclesiastes!

Friday May 2nd

1 This makes me so upset and angry. The true story of Philomena—how Irish nuns sold children to the highest US bidder, without the knowledge or permission of their parents. (From the Guardian)

2 Cool veggies to grow if you have very little space  I have 1.5 acre, but am amazed at how much can be grown compactly!

3 Bible Study with my small group. Jesus and Nicodemus.

In the Old Testament, Isaiah saw a vision of God, high and lifted up and the train of his robe filled the temple with glory.

Jesus was also high and lifted up–in shame, humiliation and disgrace. As he said, like Moses lifted up the bronze serpent, so he had to be lifted up to give life.

One of the many ironies in the Gospel of John–the meaning of what it is to be high and lifted up is changed. The one who serves is high and lifted up, not necessarily in people’s eyes, but in deed and truth.

Jesus was high and lifted up on the cross to bear the punishment for our sins. I believe that, of course.

But was it more? Was he somehow redeeming suffering? Saying it’s part of life. A pathway to truth and reality. No one is as real as one in pain.

For long before the Fall, before sin, there was darkness and chaos, and God created darkness as well as sunshine, and pronounced both good.

Saturday May 3rd

1 My trip to Cambodia, and coming back with a virus took a lot out of me. I was feeling tired, intellectually, spiritually, physically and emotionally. It was hard to settle down and get things done. I realized needed to get away. Just an hour after realizing this,  Amy Boucher Pye had a place available massively discounted on her retreat in Spain. I took it.

2 On my way to Costa Blanca, Spain. I have flown out of Heathrow and Gatwick so often now that I have the routine down pat. Check your luggage. Get asked if you have packed any guns, daggers, bombs, petrol canisters. I switch off and default to my smiley good girl persona, so when she shows me a picture of guns, daggers, bombs and asked if I’ve packed them, with a huge grin, I unthinkingly say “YES.”

She stares. Then laughs. “The correct answer is NO,” she informs me laughing.  Okay, no then. I don’t know if the TSA would be as merciful!

2 Irene used to ask me “Mum, if it turned out I was a cyborg, and you realized you were bringing up a Cyborg all these years, should you still love me?”

 Well, security scanners think I am a cyborg. I have never met one I did not set off. It must be my 3 rings, my dangling earrings, my bangles and necklace. I wear the same inherited jewellery every day and never take it off–or else I would lose it.

An elderly British man is similarly body-searched, I suppose for guns, bombs, daggers and petrol. He sits next to me and says, “They’ve put us through an ordeal and a half.” I am delighted. I haven’t heard the phrase “and a half,” since I was in boarding school, and assumed it was an Indian expression. Apparently not.

3 Talk about Primitive Methodism and Wesleyan Methodism with a Methodist minister here at the retreat centre I am at, El Palmeral, Costa Blanca, Spain.

4 The landscape of the Costa Blanca. Arid chaparral, with groves of pomegranates and lemons, and herds of sheep. It’s a denuded landscape, not much grass to be seen, and that may partly to do with the sheep who, according to George Monbiot cause environmental devastation everywhere by their grazing habits.

Sunday May 4

1 Love the sung liturgy from the Northumbria Community at El Palmeral

2 Funny how I often accentuate words wrongly after 13 years in England! There are five feisty Yorkshire women here, and the talk turned to gardening. I asked them if they knew of Incredible Edible Todmorden, the West Yorkshire town which grows fruit and vegetables in every available bit of land. This is my dream for my own garden, and we will probably gradually achieve some of it, but at the present, my time and energy is going into writing.

Anyway, all of them, keen gardeners, say they have never heard of Todmorden. I frown. Impossible. Describe it, spell it. Oh, they all know it well, but it’s pronounced TodMRDN. I said ToddMorden. We thought you were asking about a person, one said. My bad! 🙂

3 I pray first thing in the morning, and my day feels odd if I do not do so. But several people say, the best time to write is early in the morning.