Autumn walk

All done

 If you look closely you can see a 'snail' perched on the central rock

 Pavement sorted. Subtitle 'don't you dare park here'

Snazzy organ pipe fence and side gate.
Cost? Looks like a hernia op is needed. Oh dear.

Front garden achieved

 That's that done, and very smart it looks too but not quite all finished

now to do the pavement

and then

 gravel all spread and rockery planted

 shrubs planted in circles and photinia hedge along fence

Phew! certainly kept HoF busy through difficult times

then

 lay a membrane and outline the rockery

 bring in the gravel

 no problem, just swing the bag over and puncture the bottom

A summer's project

 The front garden as it was, but the hedge was dying, so what to do?

 Take it all out, and some of the conifers too.

  

Leaving a blank canvas

Put in a new fence, a new hedge under-planted with snowdrops and cyclamen, then some fancy brickwork....

Brother

In August, news came of the death of Samuel Lam. We talk a great deal about saints in the Anglican church and often think of them as characters in ancient history, but Samuel Lam was a modern-day saint whom we  were privileged to meet in 1989 on a surreptitious one day visit from Hong Kong to Guanzhou, better known here as Canton. Down a bustling alley with overstrung washing lines, we found a plain door, opening on a staircase. Upstairs were small rooms filled with pews, and a table where hymn books were being hand-produced. This was Pastor Lam’s church. He shared his story and his rise to world attention via a scrapbook.

During the Chinese Communist regime of Mao-Tse Tung, Pastor Lam was prepared to be a martyr for his Christian faith, spending years in labour camps for refusing to allow his house church to merge with the government-controlled ‘Three-Self’ church. He became the secret pastor to hundreds of fellow inmates.

Born in 1929, he was imprisoned from 1955 to 1957 because of his evangelism. He was arrested again in 1958 for ‘anti-revolutionary’ activity and spent 20 years in jail. Throughout that time he didn’t know when he would be released. He worked under extremely difficult conditions in a coal mine until he was badly injured by a runaway truck. He was then made the Camp barber, and used the opportunity to whisper to each prisoner in his chair about the love of God and Jesus the Saviour.  Despite the death of his wife while in prison and harsh treatment by prison authorities, Samuel Lam never lost his faith. After his release he began to teach English. His first three pupils gave their lives to Christ, and seven years later he had baptised 900 people, 300 of whom became missionaries all over China. The church building was closed time and again and yet his story received such publicity in the West (including from the American president and Billy Graham, whose gift to Brother Lam I am holding) that raids on the church were halted, and also because the authorities realised that increased pressure seemed to result amazingly in even greater church growth. Today his church, presumably in the same tiny and basic wooden building we saw, has 4000 members with multiple services throughout the week. It is still unregistered but is now tolerated by the authorities.

However Pastor Lam regularly warned that the church in China should not become complacent, that at any moment the authorities might clamp down and believers be arrested.  “I pray that we will receive the strength to stand firm.” he said. 

The Africans' home visit

 The African branch of the family came home on furlough and we met up in Stow. A hot visit this year in contrast to the soggy one in 2012, so we enjoyed watery places, and ice creams.

 And even here in the village, watery places were a favourite. Good thing they've all learned to swim well. And it was time to get to know Ruben, now aged one and on the verge of walking.

 And then they're off. Next time we meet they won't be the African branch, but the Australian one....

Real sunshine

'No-one lights a lamp and then hides it or puts it under a basket. instead, it is put on a lampstand to give light to all who enter the room. Your eye is a lamp for your body. A pure eye lets sunshine into your soul. But an evil eye shuts out the light and plunges you into darkness. Make sure that the light you think you have is not really darkness. If you are filled with light, with no dark corners, then your whole life will be radiant, as though a floodlight is shining on you.'

Living Bible. Thanks, Daniel and Libby

Corfu

 HoF in Corfu town

 Incredible blueness at our hotel

 with Miss P who'll soon need a name change

 Deluge of British weather in Corfu town

 A treat of Corfiot baklava at Paleokastritsa

Miss P was so elegant she put us to shame

Revival

As a great contrast to my activities before we went last Sunday to visit a revival. Or that's what its being called, and who am I to argue. I always feel as if I've arrived in a place after the Holy Spirit has moved on a tad, so when this move of God was flagged up as being Now by the useful internet, we thought we'd take a look for ourselves. We weren't bowled over but something is certainly going on. Sixty people had been baptised the evening before our visit, the church, in a warehouse, was full of folks of all ages, the music was approved by HoF who is rather particular about these matters, and the preacher was..........................preaching the gospel! Quite a surprise for this day and age and where we live. And pretty refreshing for someone who was feeling not quite in step with the rest of the ecclesiastical world.

Ashamed

This week I've had various instances of feeling I'm one of the few in step. A sermon of the 'it doesn't matter what you believe' variety; another pastor's theory that it's more important to affirm people than to mention original sin, and last night a meeting of C4M with just a dozen people attending, one an Imam. Where were the Christians? I felt ashamed of such a poor turnout for one of the most important issues of our time, and ashamed of myself when we were asked to leaflet our streets and I chickened out. What if someone saw me?
So today I went to the town to hand out leaflets in the market square. Amongst the items we were shown last night were books published for early readers, infants, about alternative families, titles like 'King and King', 'Mom and Mum get married'. And I thought of my grandchildren growing up with such ideas and not the definition of marriage that has existed till now of 'one man and one woman for life.'

I felt I had to do my part, even if it may be putting my finger in the dyke, against this flood of unwarranted, non-manifesto-ed, legislation. Reactions varied from 'thank you for reminding me, I'll vote tonight' to 'what's all the fuss, my mother's a vicar and she doesn't mind' to plain 'couldn't care less'.

My parents thought the world had changed a lot in their lifetime, but boy, they didn't have anything this big. And I did see people who knew me, and happily, they agreed with our stance. There would have been no hiding, we wore bright green T-shirts emblazoned with title and logo.

And now for blogging this I'll get a lot of stick and still feel out of step. Gulp.

To Dad

Creator of the universe, we thank you that Jesus said we could call you Father.
We praise your name and worship you with our lips and lives.
Thank you that your rule on earth begins with Jesus and those who chose to belong to you and we long for it to fill the whole earth.
Give us grace to live as willingly for you as the angels do.
We trust you for our needs each day.
Thank you for forgiving us through the sacrifice of Jesus and help us to be just as generous to other people.
Father, sometimes you allow hard things to happen to make sure it's you we're trusting and not our own cleverness. Help us to be true to you and not give way to satan's tricks.
For it's all about you, Father, about a world where you're the boss, and your strength sustains everything and you are the only one who deserves worship.
Always and always.
Definitely.

I wrote this as an exercise in making liturgy. It was good practise I think to try and rewrite the Lord's prayer, as it's so easy for it to trip off the tongue without thought or meaning.

I learned to recite it as a child. I don't remember a time when I didn't know it and it was probably the best thing my mother ever taught me even though at the time I didn't appreciate it and regarded it as a sprint to be accomplished before bed. All through my schooldays I recited it in morning assembly. Repetitive, pointless? It seemed so then but God had a mention every day of my young life.

What are the most valuable things that parents might teach today's' children? Which habits are the beneficial ones that store up treasure in the right place?

Travels in this green and pleasant land

 After Easter we went to North Shropshire to a place called Cloverley Hall for a conference.HoF is not keen on these Christian get-togethers but even he enjoyed this one the first time he went. We stayed in our caravan this time to encourage good sleeps, and the first photo the view from our window. We enjoyed the preaching and the worship, and then moved on for four nights near Northwich. The second photo is of our nearest village, Great Budworth. Unchanged, unruined by 1960s architecture.

One day we agreed to go our separate ways. HoF went to look at car salerooms (no accounting for taste) and I went to Arley Hall Gardens which I had pretty much to myself. It was lovely in spite of the late start to spring. In the afternoon we went to Dunham Massey, my first 'saving' of the National Trust year. Footsore after the first garden but well worth the visit. I love these silver birches and am working on a tree theme for my next painting.

Our last morning we went to another village recommended in a book on English churches. Lower Peover, pronounced 'Peever' and not what you were thinking.

And home to visitors. First Miss P and The Man, and then some cherished old friends for three days of eating and talking. We ate out every day, such a treat and saved kitchen time and missing out on the chatter. Fish and chips in the local hostelry on the last night.

Spring, maybe

 A weekend of outings and for the Saturday a really lovely day. A minibus trip was arranged; we're trying to get the community minibus more used which is an uphill struggler, but this one was a great example. Firstly we went to Kilpeck church, listed as the best example of a Norman church in England. It has all sorts of strange gargoyles and carvings which are very interesting but just how did it all fit with the then prevailing theology? Wish I knew.

 After a meal at Kilpeck Inn, we moved on to Monnow Arts Centre currently showing some of the Methodist art collection, on a theme of resurrection.  It also has a sculpture garden bathed then in springlike sunshine.

 On Sunday we went on a guided walk in Downton Gorge. Downton village that is, nothing to do with TV. In times past the owner of the castle arranged walks in the picturesque style along the banks of the river for his Victorian guests. These are only accessible now on rare occasions and this was our first opportunity, and probably our last judging, by the state of our feet when we got home.