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| My purple teddy bear sat in his favourite place. |
We ended the retreat with praise and worship and Ian spoke to us on Luke 7: 36-50 - the women who anointed Jesus feet. As I reflected on the following verse and the love expressed I wrote this short poem.
Words matter let then flow
I sit and stare 
I have recently come back from a long awaited holiday in Corfu. The area my husband and I stayed at was called Canal D'Amour, Sadari, it was indeed love at first sight. Such a beautiful place to be. Having been to Corfu before and driven around the island (including three laps of a round-about in Corfu town) we decided just to chill by the swimming pool all week. It was as they say a dogs life. This little friend joined me one morning and then scampered away again following the crowd. It is so easy to follow the crowd and get caught up in the hustle and bustle of life and forget to stop and listen to God. Even God rested on the seventh day and if he needs a rest so do we (Gen 2:2).
I like to read but of late have struggled to find the time to read just for me rather than books I have to read to complete an essay. It's been nice to be able to relax and read what I want. Two of the books I enjoyed, I read more, were David Walliam's Camp David and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce. Walliam's autobiography is a very honest account of his life and things that have made him who he is today. We are all molded by our past but not many of us would want to put those painful moments in black and white and share them with the world. But perhaps we should be willing to share more of the things that make us who we are? Perhaps we should be more willing to share how the Spirit of God has changed our lives with those that don't know God?
I wonder what ought.
When I can't sleep I tend to write. I am naturally a night owl and feel more creative at night. Having recently come back from a holiday in Corfu full of late nights my body clock is completely out of sync. Tonight I watched the film insomnia with Al Pacino and Robin Williams. Pacino's character is a cop tying to solve a murder investigation that takes him to Alaska. Alaska has long daylight hours in the summer that extend into the night making sleep difficult. Pacino's character can't cope with this and goes around in a daze because of lack of sleep from insomnia. I go through stages of having difficulty sleeping. It's fine when I get there but drifting off is not always easy. I can't sleep without blackout blinds and complete silence. Ticking clocks are banned, snoring husbands are often jabbed in the side, and noisy neighbours exterminated. OK, well maybe not the last one but you get the drift. I call my preferred sleep pattern 'Jo time' which means sleeping about 2.00am and waking about 9.00am. I have been on extended Jo time which is fine for holidays and essay writing (I finished my last essay required for my Baptist minister accreditation recently) but not good now that I am back at work. Last night was my worse night sleep, if you can call it that, for a long time. When I was at college facing an essay deadline I would stay up all night writing, I wrote better and faster at night than in the morning, it made good sense to me. My husband is a lark and goes to work very early. He would be going to work and I would just be going to bed about 5.00am. We still laugh about that. This morning he was surprised to find me wide awake at 4.30am when he was leaving for working. Somewhat dazed from lack of sleep and extremely overtired but happily writing silly poems. 
I have known Ruth since I was a teenager but it was not until the last ten years, or so, that I really got to know her well. She was one of my most trusted friends. Last year she made the journey from Stroud to Burton on the train to see me, not many 82 year-old ladies would attempt that! On learning of her sudden death my immediate reaction was at least she didn't suffer that much and stayed in her own home, continuing to do the Lord's work right up until the last minute. I was surprised by the depth of my feelings just prior to her funeral as it dawned on me just how good a friend she was and how much I would miss her. God seemed to remind me of that in the voice of Elizabeth, who I don't know very well, as she sat next to me with the words, 'Can I sit next to you and be your friend.' Just in case I needed any more reinforcement, a reminder from God via Ruth's hymn choice, What a friend we have in Jesus. 
Christian spirituality concerns the quest for a fulfilled and authentic Christian existence, involving the bringing together of the fundamental ideas of Christianity and the whole experience of living on the basis of and within the scope of the Christian faith.
A poem by Thomas Hardy: Snow in the SuburbsEvery branch big with it,Bent every twig with it; Every fork like a white web-foot; Every street and pavement mute: Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward when Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again. The palings are glued together like a wall, And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall. A sparrow enters the tree, Whereon immediately A snow-lump thrice his own slight size Descends on him and showers his head and eye And overturns him, And near inurns him, And lights on a nether twig, when its brush Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush. The steps are a blanched slope, Up which, with feeble hope, A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin; And we take him in.
I came across this poem the other day. I have loved Thomas Hardy's work since I was a teenager. It is so descriptive. I love the way he entices you into the story and paints pictures. There is a little black cat that visits and seems to want to adopt us. I often hear it coming through the cap flap at night and then going back out again when it hears me get up. I managed to catch it the other day. I am a little concerned as to whether it is OK and wonder if it is a stray or not. It looked well fed, but then it has been feasting on the food left for my two cats. It seemed well although its heart beat was going ten to the dozen but then it didn't expect me to pick it up. I normally give it a shoo. I asked it where it lived but got no reply only a wide eyed look. We have had such bad weather recently I have been worried it was OK. A few days ago when we had some snow, after chasing out the cat flap, it looked up at me through the kitchen window and meowed. It captured a bit of my heart that day. Who does it belong to Lord? I asked.
 Yesterday evening a sign went up outside the house opposite with a photo of a cat on it. I went out to investigate. It read 'Missing for 2 weeks' and there was a photo of the little black cat. I knocked on the door. It seems the owner inadvertently frightened the cat after telling it for peeing where it shouldn't and it disappeared. Was this the same little black cat? I think so.
We all need somewhere to call home. I am reminded of the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-31) who spends his inheritance living the high life and, when the cash runs out, returns to the family home with his tail between his legs. Not knowing what to expect hoping only to be treated as a servant. The father welcomes him home with open arms.
I hope the little black cat finds the love he needs and finds his way home. I hope I can encourage it to do so. We all need love and acceptance. Things go wrong, relationships break down and misunderstandings and fear get in the way of restoration. The little black cat's owner is waiting to welcome him home. In the same way God is always waiting with open arms to welcome us back even when we make big mistakes.
This is my cat Holy helping me with a jigsaw. The photo about is of Buddy hiding in my wardrobe.
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