Probably should have made blogging month, blogging week. Ah well. You live and learn.
More writing to resume when the boys are back at school.
Off to enjoy the small ones whilst they delight in jumping all over me and think I’m amazing. It’s a small window but I like that we are in it right now.
I’m sensing Half Term might be the killer of my creativity, time and space are short, but we shall see, I shall be optimistic, I shall. We got home from a lovely time away at lunchtime today. Since then we’ve been roundly punished by son2 for daring to go away. He’s held it all in for 24 hours of charmingly wonderful behaviour and this afternoon came the safe collapse to let it all out. Sigh. I think it was still worth the 24 hours away from them but we feel a little bit battered as we drink our tea and put them to bed tonight.
And so, instead of any profound thoughts from me, here’s one of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite men who died this week. Eugene Peterson has been an inspiration of mine ever since I started out in this Christian Ministry thing about 19 years ago. His books on being in pastoral work are astounding. He felt like a lone voice in the wilderness calling people away from results orientated ministry to a long obedience of loving and walking with people on the way home (this blog’s name was definitely inspired by his work). I am sad his voice has left the earth but deeply glad that one day I very much hope to chat to him (however that whole new creation thing works). He wrote beautifully and I’ll leave you with a quote that started this blog off many years ago. A quote that always brings me back to the unseen world all around us and the beautiful details which draw me to be aware of it. Thank you Eugene.
“We wake up each morning in a world we did not make. How did it get here? How did we get here? We open our eyes and see the sun careen over the horizon. We wiggle our toes. A mocking bird takes off and improvises on themes set down by robins, vireos and wrens, and we marvel at the intricacies. The smell of frying bacon works its way into our nostrils and we begin anticipating buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee brewed from our favorite Javanese beans.
There is so much here- around, above, below, inside, outside. Even with the help of poets and scientists we can account for very little of it.
After a while we get used to it and quit noticing. Somewhere along the way this wide eyed looking around, this sheer untaught delight in what is here, reverses itself: the would contracts; we are reduced to a life of routine, through which we sleepwalk.
But not for long. Something always shows up to jar us awake, a child’s question, a fox’s sleek beauty, a sharp pain, a pastors sermon, a fresh metaphor, an artists vision, a slap in the face, scent from a crushed violet. We are again awake, alert, in wonder: how did this happen? And why this? Why anything at all? Why not nothing at all?
Gratitude is our spontaneous response to all this: to life. Something wells up within us: Thank you!”
Kisses blown at us out of the back window.
Bookshops.
Coffee.
Books.
Naptime
Sunset walk.
Pub. Burgers. Cocktails. Wine.
Chats. Pub quiz to come.
First time away from the small faces together.
The morning here starts with mist
Covering the lake
Trees, hills, cows, shadows in the sky.
We stumble downstairs
Drink coffee out of beautiful mugs
Do puzzles, read books and wait for the dawn light.
We are joined by our friendswhoarefamily
Children bumbling around our feet.
Easy silence, easy conversation
Breakfast cooks, more coffee drunk
Outside the world waits
The morning here starts with mist
Encircling with closeness
Wrapping around us.
No view. No horizon
Yesterday we saw the lake,
Bright sunshine burned the intimate gloom away.
And so we wait.
Safely held in this immediate
Enjoying this present
The morning here starts with mist.
And you.
Like the encircling swirling white
Here
Holding
One day
Revealing.
It’s the weekly roundup, it’s the weekly round up, da da, da, da, it’s the weekly roundup.
If only you could hear the bright sunny tune in my head.
Where was I?
Ah yes. I haven’t done one of these for a few weeks. So. Without further ado. The week as it was in the land of Team Cunningham:
Mostly I think it’s been good. I’ve still been full of energy post retreat last week and generally full of sunshine and happy thoughts. I realised I’ve been quite despairing recently when I hung out with some friends on Tuesday night and they actually gasped in amazement that I was doing well this week. It’s a welcome relief to feel normal again, like I can take another step forward and to be able to enjoy the forest we are living in at the moment (no view on the horizon but a very interesting, pretty, complex, sometimes full of joy, sometimes dark and scary view in our immediate gaze).
Saturday saw me head off to London for the epic loveliness that is Anna and Sarah day (been praying together for 19 years, ain’t gonna stop anytime soon). We chatted, ate incredible cake and prayed. It was, as always, refreshing, good for the soul and really lovely to know the deep deep love of friends who are a safe place for each other. I left happy and very grateful.
We had the first of our series on ‘Things that are Killing us’ at church on Sunday, cheery eh? This week we explored Anxiety, the weeks to come we’ll be looking at the News, Consumerism, Busyness, Self Image and Pornography. A fairly wide spectrum of things that affect us all in different ways. The aim is to find something of the presence of God in the midst of our struggles, to find a more Jesus way of living and to know the peace of God as we try and walk God’s ways in the 21st Century. It feels like a significant series and I’m hoping it will lead to deeper conversations, more awareness of God with us and transformation in our lives.
I had a fairly quiet week after Sunday, meetings were cancelled and I found myself walking outside more, having thoughts again and getting on with writing some of them down, which always helps me process what’s going on internally. I’m now in the somewhat ironic situation of loving being away from social media more and the free space in my head to get creative but then feeling the pull back to social media to share my blogposts and get others in on the conversation. Ah well. I want to use social media well but I’m really loving not staring at my phone all the time. I’m still seeking a healthy route through all of that and I think that’s ok. I’m a work in progress.
The boys had their final week of this half term. They’ve both done really well and are tired but not completely exhausted at this point. I think our duvet day last Friday helped us all reconnect, post my retreat, and aid recovery from colds. I sadly still have the last part of the ‘marriage wrecking cough’ (pity the poor husbandface as I hack away all night) but I think today it’s slowly heading out of the door.
Husbandface now officially only works 4 days a week. He now has Thursdays off to recover from the first half of the week and counselling first thing in the morning. It’s guilt free time off to sleep, rest and generally be a helpful safety valve. He then picks the boys up and cooks dinner, meaning I can work later or just enjoy time with the boys without having to think about food. It feels very freeing to have margins in life again and I’m glad of a new, more helpful rhythm to our weeks.
I’m loving writing more, loving the autumn sunshine, golden leaves and general October vibes all around. We are in Bristol this weekend with excellent friends and then have a night away from the boys on Monday night. It will be the first time we’ve been away from them together. They are very excited about being with their beloved Nana and Grandad (who may be slightly less excited but at least it’s only for 24 hours…) and we are so much looking forward to an afternoon to ourselves, a bed to ourselves and no-one shouting in our faces at 6 in the morning.
Now there’s a positive blog post for you.
And so, enjoy the sunshine, breathe deep and gaze into the blue skies (or snuggle up under a blanket with a cup of tea and listen to the sound of the rain soothing your soul).
I’m off to do likewise.
The Long Walk Home 