THE HAPPIEST PLACE TO BE
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.
