Autumn morning

Crunching through leaves

Seeing, through the gloom

breath whipped away on the wind

as it mists in the morning frost

Anticipating in the darkness

shapes looming out of the shadows

of fellow travellers

on the journey

Are they coming or going?

Arriving or leaving?

Starting the day?

Or finishing the night?

There is evidence all around

of those whose work is done for now -

The steam emerging from the bakers

carrying the enticing aroma

of freshly baked bread;

Breakfast rolls ready for those just newly wakened.

The smell of polish in offices

that hints at night time cleaning

ready for a new days mess.

Freshly stocked shelves in the supermarket

prepared all through the night

so that daytime shoppers might find

all that their hearts desire.

We pass each other on our journey to work-

those whose shift is done

and those who are just beginning

unaware of how

we rely on each other

each providing a part

of a whole

that is not complete

until both have performed

their allotted task,

their part in the vast, complex jigsaw

that comprises daily life.

In the early morning light, each is wrapped up

in their own cocoon

filled with thoughts

and plans

and anxieties,

unthinking, unseeing

barely noticing

life teeming around us

far less being mindful

of other lives

In our community

whose days are bereft of purpose

who long to be going about

the mindlessness

of everyday routine.

The unemployed

the grieving

those sick

in body, mind or soul,

those who feel rejected

unloved and unwanted.

Those who have spent the hours of darkness

longing for the day

and who will spend the day

longing for the night

when they can once more retreat

into the shadows

out of the glare

and put in their shift of suffering.

The riot of autumn colours

does not impinge

on their unremitting

shades of grey.

The miracle of frost patterns

fails to distract them

from the bleakness

that fashions their landscape.

The creeping in of dawn

fails to charm them

with its hues of pink and mauve and purple

for colours are silenced

by the power of the darkness

that inhabits their world.

And so we journey on

caring not how we affect each other,

unaware of the dreams lost

or trampled underfoot

like autumn leaves

or not even begun,

whisked away like breath

in the early morning frost.

We journey on absorbed and consumed

by all the demands

of our own day.

And all around us nature calls

to us and tries to beguile us

with its beauty and colour,

the colour of caring and hope and promise.

We journey on

In a strange kind of blindness,

inconvenienced

by swirling leaves

and frosty breath

and unimpressed

by the colour of hope.

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Multiple personality

I had an interesting day yesterday playing the part of an interviewee being assessed as a potential candidate for full time ministry in the Church of Scotland - (for the purposes of assessor training). Both interview teams asked very different questions and I left feeling that I had portrayed two quite different people!
That struck me as quite congruent in ministry when we are called to be so many different things to different people at different times and in a wide variety of situations. These are often brief encounters and might leave folk with little snapshots, pieces of a very complex jigsaw.
Few will ever see the bigger picture or even a sizeable part of it but all will be affected, for good or ill, by the sense they make of what they do see. Striving to reflect the image of God in every encounter becomes much more vital when seen from that perspective. It is less important that folk get to know us than that they get to see God in us.
I'm not sure that either account I gave of myself yesterday merited acceptance as a candidate for training. But that's another story!
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Eavesdropping

Yet another wonderful thing about train travel is that you are forced to listen in to people's conversations. OK - that can be really irritating when it's a tedious, banal, unnecessary, stating the obvious, phone convo. And that's not just because it's one-sided. It would be double torture to have to listen to the other side of those conversations. On my journey this morning i was fascinated by a conversation that ranged from the sadness of Stalin to the desirability of Machiavelli, with Terry Pratchett thrown in along the way. it might have been pretentious if the folk involved hadn't been so earnest. I certainly learned a few things that I'm sure will come in handy at some point. Maybe when there are political history questions in the next pub quiz!
So- what have you learned as you've journeyed today. And, perhaps more salutary, what have others learned from your conversations?
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Benediction

Pronouncing blessing

on the freshness of the breeze

that snatches away

all those gnawing thoughts

and clamouring ideas

that will keep

until another time

Pronouncing blessing

on the salty tang

that cleanses the palate

of the bitter taste

of judgment and criticism

unwelcome companions

on the journey

Pronouncing blessing

on the biting cold

that numbs the wounded spirit

damaged beyond repair

from too many searing remarks

cast thoughtlessly over the shoulder

by those considered friends

Pronouncing blessing

on a moments peace

an at-one-ness with nature

and all its healing balm

Pronouncing blessing

on the God of creation

who meets us

in that moment

Thanks be to God

Living water

Straiton Falls

The recent rainfall ensured that these waterfalls were flowing well today. The water spilled fast and furious and the noise was deafening - a cacophony that spoke of energy and life. The autumn sunshine completed the uplifting effect of walking beside not still but roaring water. The God who leads us by still waters also walks beside us in the far from tranquil moments, bringing peace and calm in every turbulence.

With arms open wide

Looking ahead to this Sunday's gospel: Jesus said: "Whoever is not against us is for us."(Mark 9:40)  He was confronted with the disciples guarding their territory, complaining about someone using Jesus' name to cast out demons.
Sadly, this is a scenario played out again and again in congregations and communities. We're not good at making room for others. Sure we'll welcome people, especially new people, but once they start straying into our territory, treading on our toes, maybe even having the audacity to do some things better than us, it is then that we close ranks and hang on to our places and our traditions and our way of doing things. Change would signal weakness and may deposit us on a slippery slope. Our welcome grows cold when we feel ourselves threatened. Making room for others might diminish our sphere of influence or compromise our high standards. Jesus makes it clear that positions are not important. And, as Mark's gospel unfolds, so does the message that there is room for all in the Kingdom of God. And, what's more, we need to move over, give up some of our space, learn to serve with humility. God sees beyond the outward appearance, beyond the boundaries. In God's embrace there is room for all.

Shades of autumn

A walk in the park this morning held lots of reminders that autumn is here. As I reflected on the change evident in the heavy morning dew, in the changing colours of the trees, and the presence of autumn berries, I was also reflecting on the seasonal changes that affect the lives of those we love and serve in ministry: Those adjusting to empty nests as young people go off to work or study. Those making provision for increasing frailty in loved ones as age takes its toll. Those living with partners affected by life changing conditions that have already dulled minds and imprisoned spirits. As well as grief and mourning though, I was thankful for all the resilience I have witnessed and the wonder and inspiration I have experienced as, time after time, folk plumb the depths and emerge with hope and fortitude. I am left with a new awareness of the capacity for growth and the potential for joy in all things. Even in the darkness it is possible to believe in the relentless inevitability of light.