On my own with Him

And finally...

I'm walking in a meadow, on a cliff top, on a beautiful summer day. 

There are flowers everywhere. Blues, reds, yellows, grasses as high as my waist in places, swaying in a breeze with a gentle shushing sound. It's restful, like a lullaby. 

The sun is warm and the sky blue with wispy summer clouds high above. I can't see the sea because I'm a few hundred yards inland from the edge of the cliff, but if I listen carefully I can hear the sound of the waves and now and again as the wind blows I feel refreshing misty spray against my face. I breathe it in, remembering that was how the clouds felt when I flew with God.

I knew it was the Holy Spirit in my lungs then, and it is now.

I am walking, slowly, shoulders relaxed, swinging my arms, a smile on my face. I am wearing a dress, which is unheard of, for me. I never wear dresses. It's a pretty floral print with short sleeves and a full skirt and I am comfortable in it. I'm not pulling at it self-consciously. It's not too tight or scratchy or clinging; it's cool and pretty. Bare legs, sandals, hair blowing back as I walk into the breeze and inhale the sweet, fresh air.

I am transformed. I am beautiful and confident and carefree. I am light and peaceful. 

I know that God is with me, even though I am alone. He is with me in the meadow just as he was with me in the sky and with me as I tried to climb the mast on the tall building. He is right here, and I smile to myself, knowing that I am walking with my Lord, that He will never leave me.

I am happy, on my own with Him.

I walk and I breathe deeply, I take in the beauty of all that is around me. I am completely content. Surrounded by the breathtakingly intricate beauty of His creation, accompanied by the Creator, who points out His wonders to me as we stroll along; breathing in the fine sea-spray mist of the Holy Spirit.

I can walk alone, and still be with Him. I can have my feet on the ground, and still breathe in the spirit. I don't know where I'm going, but it doesn't matter. He is with me and I am just enjoying the walk. There is no better company.

I am home. I am safe. I am alive.

There is freedom and space. All is well.

I am His daughter. 

Tough as a pansy

Good morning, God!


The sky is blue, the sun is shining, the daffodils are flowering, there are little bits of green on all the bare twiggy bushes and it's mild enough for me to take my coffee down the garden to drink while I survey what's left of the plants after the cold, cold winter has taken it's toll.  


I love Spring. It's such a hopeful time of year. All the newness and freshness.  You know what struck me the other day, Lord? I drove the car onto our drive and there's a little flower border down one side.  Last summer I planted some pansies, yellow and red ones. When it came to the end of Autumn and I was pulling out the spent bedding plants, I hesitated with the pansies as the garden centres at that time of year are full of 'winter flowering pansies' and I didn't actually know if a pansy was a pansy, or if there were hardy pansies and pansy pansies, if you see what I mean, and since mine had been planted in May, whether they would do their thing all winter or if I needed the Grr version of the pansy to do that job.

Well, I pulled onto the drive and glanced at the bedraggled looking border, and there are my pansies, particularly the yellow ones, with a profusion of flowers and buds, looking bushier and more cheerful than ever.  They'd survived all winter, with all that snow; we had more than two feet of it at one point - and temperatures as low as minus 14 degrees.  
And those determined little pansies flowered all the time, and now that Spring is here they're turning their beautiful little faces to the sun and flowering all the more.


How lovely is that?  


I know there are so many life applications I could take away from this little observation, Lord; I know that you looked after the tiny flowers through all that harsh weather and how much more will you look after me with all the rubbish that life throws at me.  I know that there's a lesson to be learned about being hardy and determined enough to carry on flowering despite hardship and ice and enormous fuel bills and deep snow.  


The thing I like most is your attention to detail.  Tiny pansies. A low-growing, small, clumpy little plant, but they lived through the winter when so many of my other shrubs didn't - bigger and showier plants that you'd think were stronger have turned up their toes and died.  


My little pansies are happy in the Spring sun and I love them for it.  


And I love you for it too.