I am writing a daily blog (Monday to Friday) on preparing spiritually and physically

to lead a Pilgrimage of 100 miles in September.

for details of the Pilgrimage, click on the dropdown Cotswold Pilgrimage bar at the top of this page

WEEK FIVE DAY TWO

God gave me grapes, great

clusters of them

then He picked them and took them away

naturally I sulked

it hardly pays to be a branch

I muttered

and wouldn’t you know it my next grapes

were bitter

God said you can keep them

so they went to the birds

Pruning time

and the sweetness of the Lord came

pouring in from the Vine

and I said

Father take this branch it’s all yours

He said back to work son

give me the grapes

I don’t know where that came from: I wrote the words in my prayer journal when I was at university nearly 40 years ago. It’s unattributed.

But the words come back to me every so often.

This morning.

I am running late, lots to do – mostly phone calls which I dislike intensely as I prefer to write, to ponder, choose the right words. Shopping. Looking after a husband with pleurisy. Walking. The gym. Someone to see, coming for Spiritual Direction. Writing. This.

Stuff.

So the bitterness came creeping.

And I knew I needed the sweetness of the Lord to come pouring in.

* * * *

Our curate was priested on Sunday evening. The Bishop came.

I wore my beautiful white silk stole, made and embroidered for me by a dear friend, now no longer with us.

On it she sewed a pattern of vine branches and grapes; of the Spirit descending like a dove; and these words:

And the sweetness of the Lord poured in from the Vine.

Father take this branch it is all yours.

My joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

That’s my prayer for today:

Pour in your sweetness Lord

in to me

and out to others

Take my branch Lord – and keep it firmly attached to the Vine.

Here are the grapes

you gave me in the first place

They are yours

to use as and when You will

In the name of the Father

and of the Son

and of the Holy Spirit

Top of embroidery just visible on my stole!

I am writing a daily blog on preparing spiritually and physically

to lead a Pilgrimage of 100 miles in September.

for details of the Pilgrimage, click on the dropdown Cotwold Pilgrimage bar at the top of this page

Today has been a curate’s egg kind of day.

This morning, I stood at the happiest place: the arrivals gate. Oh the joy of hearing the cries of delight, the sobs of joy, the squeals of pleasure, as loved ones were reunited.

Smiles and laughter. Hugs and kisses. Exclamations and enthusiasm.

Would my own loved ones ever come through that door?

And would I recognize them?

I always have that ridiculous fear when waiting for my family and friends – that I won’t recognize them.

But of course I always do.

There they are!

And my eldest granddaughter she leaps up into my arms, words spilling out to tell me of the overnight flight and all that she, they, have done.

And her younger sister holds out her arms – she’s balanced precariously in her car seat on top of the luggage.

My poor daughter is pushing the luggage AND the buggy – so is doubly glad to see me.

The happiness of reunions and being welcomed and recognized.

Surely a foretaste of arriving home in heaven?

Of being welcomed and recognized and swept up in joy and affirmation.

* * * *

And then this afternoon.

The unhappiest place to be: driving across a hot dusty crowded London. Friday afternoon in a tired capital.

It’s only 14 miles door to door: it took exactly two hours and ten minutes.

People were hot and tired and frustrated.

Horns blared and bleated.

Finger gestures were indescribable.

Cars were cutting in and cutting up and cutting out.

Voices were raised.

It was all too tempting to join in.

And then something reminded me of Amy Carmichael and her writing.

Her book IF

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. *

*For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water however suddenly jolted.

How sweet was my spirit this afternoon?

What flavour was spilt?

* * * *

No walking today. Fewer than 1,000 steps, after the ten, and eleven and twelve thousand of earlier days.

Relationships take priority over rules.

Joy over judgement.

Tomorrow is another day: and I am booked for a 7 mile hike with a friend – to Hampstead Heath and back.

And then a powerplates session.

* * * *

And I’ve been in the happiest of places today.

I’m grateful.

It’s good to have my girls back.

CLUSTERS OF GRAPES

THE HAPPIEST PLACE TO BE