Re-Arranged

A couple of weeks ago, our office was gifted a bouquet of flowers – a stunning collection of blooms perfectly opened.

We certainly enjoyed them! The colours were vibrant, the perfume appealing; they offered a smile to us as we got into the office each day.

Until… they started to lose their freshness, as cut flowers so quickly do. The purple alstroemeria was fading, the ferns turned brown, even the hydrangeas were starting to droop. The water was murky, the scent no longer delightful.

Alas! Time to go to the compost bin!

Except… not all of the flowers were past their prime. The pink roses still brought their colour, the yellow carnations were unfaded, the one hydrangea still shone a bright white.

So, we removed what needed to be removed, and we changed the water, and trimmed the stems, and created a new bouquet.

Sure, it’s less fancy, and smaller, and it will be a shorter-lasting bouquet than when it was new, but we were not ready to part with the whole thing yet. And, the remaining flowers continue to bring us happiness.

Likewise, our faith journey can invite us to similar adaptations. As we grow and mature, we realise it’s time to let go of some things; they have served their purpose, they have brought joy, but we’re ready to part with them now.

And other things are still contributing to our life, their ongoing beauty allows us to recognise the opportunity to keep what is of benefit.

The flowers fade; the faith keeps growing; and the vase gets ready to receive some new blooms when the time is right.

Support

The rectory’s clothesline broke this past week.

In fairness, it was an old line that had been showing signs of wear and tear both in the line and the wheels. And of course once wear begins, we know it’s easier for wear to continue – and that process can in fact be accelerated because of the wear.

The line is also strung through an overhanging tree, whose branches prevent about half of the line from being used. So every wash that was hung meant a disproportionate weight dispersal.

Alas: I hung a load of laundry, only to go out and find it on the ground, the line snapped neatly in two. Recognising this as an inconvenience, not a crisis; I reflected on the line.

The basic premise was that the support was gone. A clothesline can have a failure at any time, based on one point. If the upright pole had fallen, or the screws fastening the wheels come loose, or the line wore through – gravity takes over.

Our lives can be like that too, when we limit ourselves to singular points of contact and support. Our relationships may wear and tire, they may loosen, they may bear uneven weights. This is not judgment, but the practicalities of life. And this does not mean that they will break, nor does it mean that they can’t be mended.

But with Christian community, we are blessed with a different type of support: we live in a web of interconnections, a network of many points of contact. We become a system of support, being upheld by the others in our community while we are involved in upholding them. Because we have chosen to weave our lives together as the church, we are all upheld by God.

And so we acknowledge that life sometimes throws a lot of wear and tear at us; but by God’s grace we do not break.

And we realise that life can loosen what were strong bonds; but by the love of Christ we remain connected.

And we delight in the opportunity to be repairers for others in their journey, giving thanks that the Spirit moved (and moves!) others to support us.

The kingdom of God is one of shared support and mutual benefit. What a privilege to be a participant in this celebration of support.

The Gift of Garlic

I enjoy garlic. That unique spicy flavour is part of my food on nearly a daily basis –as a seasoning for my dried lentil snacks, fried in my eggs for a taste kick, roasted as a spread for crackers, sautéed with onions as a base for soup… garlic. Yum.

So it’s not unusual to find a bulb (or several) sitting on the kitchen counter.

This weekend, however, the bulb on the counter is sitting in pride-of-place.

This particular bulb was a gift: a homegrown bulb of garlic, gifted to me (alongside some snap peas and a squash!).

And so, the garlic has taken on a different meaning. I’ll still use it in the same ways as I would use any other garlic, obviously! This garlic will not go to waste.

But this garlic also serves to remind me of conversations in a friendly relationship; it speaks of companions on a journey together through psalms and prayers; it grew not only from the ground but of sharing book suggestions and life stories and jokes and struggles and celebrations and so much more.

The garlic is a gift of faith and friendship. It is so much more than just a plant, it is a testimony to connection and community.

In a time when we have all endured COVID restrictions and isolations, when we are all at different comfort levels for returning to group activities, when we are re-learning how to be society again, and when we are still hesitant for potential variants and ‘waves’, the garlic is a gift of reaching out – and for that I give thanks to God!