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Author: Rosalind Hughes

Stormy weather

The clouds that run in on the wind cannot obscure God’s judgement or muffle her mercy; that the Holy Spirit dances in the tree tops, bending with them towards the earth, kissing the ground that we walk upon with grace and loving kindness.

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A body of water

As well as thirst and satisfaction, work and rest, heat and cooling, Jesus’ conversation with the woman of Samaria was about history and belonging, relationships, restoration, and the deep well of God’s love and faithfulness. Such things the lake brings to mind as the breeze moves across the waters, rippling away my reflection and replacing it with its own face.

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A cautionary tale for the hopeful

A danger recognized is not always a danger avoided, but it at least gives us half a chance to remember that our highest goal is not the pursuit of happiness but the discovery of the grace and mercy and loving-kindness, the grounding of God.

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A call to prayer

Now, with another change of location and a new technological innovation, comes this beep.

The last time I attended an in-person conference, I remember the keynote speaker mentioning in passing that he sets an alarm on his phone at noon each day to remind him to pray.

I have decided to regard this beep as my personal call to prayer.

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Hear my prayer

Crocuses purple the lawn in Lenten array.
Surrounded by dead, dry leaves of last year, they
insist upon spring, despite the morning frost.
My prayer is ice –
How long, O Lord?

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On being lost

After well over an hour, with the canopy darkening and the narrow path dimming into that grainy soft focus that comes with the dusk, we were afraid that we might, in fact, be lost in the jungle, reputed still to harbour the occasional tiger, and definitely full of scorpions, spiders, and large and small lizards, along with our baby, toddler, and child. It was too late to turn back; the darkness would be upon us within minutes.

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Redeeming Babel

Have you ever considered the Tower of Babel and wondered why, why on earth or in heaven would the good God decide that it would be a wonderful idea if we no longer understood one another?

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Halfway

Halfway through packing for their pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the Temple and its sacrifice, the covenant and its blood, Joseph is distracted by the keening of the child. He had never noticed before how like grief a baby’s cry could be – wailing for the womb, mourning the waters from which it was drawn out and adopted into the world.

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Advent retreat

I am on an Advent retreat, restless and exhausted, looking for room at last at the inn of mercy. Perhaps that is only as it should be, as we sidle slowly toward Bethlehem.

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