Stop. Look. Listen.

At the end of April myself and three friends, laden with food and canvas, bundled ourselves into a car and drove down to a very picturesque part of the countryside to visit the Art Exhibition of our friends Rachel and Darren Allwright.  They are an amazing and very creative couple, (just check out their blog All Things Allwright, where they display all these wonderful creations) and it had gotten to the point where they had so many works of art in their house that they were beginning to get in the way!  So they put on a fantasic evening of live music provided by Darren and friends, tastey homemade food (including some very amusing Kate and Wills cupcakes left over from a street party to celebrate the royal wedding.)  It was a lovely evening, and great to meet up with past friends who also knew Rach and Darren, as well and new ones from their lives before and since I've known them. The atmosphere was so warm and friendly, there was a real sense of connection between everyone, but of course the real focus of the evening was the art.

Rachel was 2 years above me in the same course (and in fact I remember her showing me around the floor of the building used by the final years and offering me some of the tea she kept stashed up there) and I've always loved the brightness and thoughtfulness of the pictures she creates.  Darren I will always associate with boundless enthusiasm and a vast array of woolly jumpers, but he has been bitten by the artsy bug too (as well as being a musician.) and it was great to see what they'd been up to since they were married and to support them by buying some of their art!



We had a silent auction, and I saw a piece I loved very early on so I put in a bid, but it was only in the last 10 minutes that a bidding war started between me and another guy!  We kept driving each other up by a couple of pounds each time, but just as I reached the limit of how high I could bid he switched to another painting in the series.  I won!!  It turned out he'd liked both and hadn't been able to make up his mind so... I helped?  That's the version I'm sticking with anyway!  Anyway, I got my painting, and it's now installed on my bedroom wall.  I look at it and wonder if the figure is coming or going.  The house on the horizon is home, a place of warmth and safety and freedom, but he's standing on the edge.  Is he admiring it?  Is it his or someone elses, and is he hesitant to approach?  Is he coming home after a long jourmey or taking a last look before embarking on a new one?

It's said that art is supposed to make you think, and I like that it does.  I get the feeling I'm going to see this painting different ways a time goes by, and I look forward to finding a place for it when I get a home of my own someday.



Jubilee Woods in Blue

I know I'm overly fond of blogging photos of my walks in the wood, but how could you possibly resist when your favourite trail is looking like this...

The bluebells are out, and stunning is the only word for them.  I spent a good hour wandering through the woods entranced on such a lovely spring day, admiring the blackthorn blossoms and the catkins.  As usual all the photos will shortly be appearing on Flickr.

In love with your sound

I believe what C.S. Lewis said in 'Mere Christianity' is true when he talked about emotions. He was describing how our feelings rise and fall, and how it's impossible, even ridiculous, for us to feel one thing all the time. We can't be constantly ecstatic, or constantly sad, but instead we go through phases and seasons. Equally, we can't be completely in love all the time: most long-term couples I know have attested to this. Sometimes you're madly in love... and sometimes you aren't. We're just humans, we wax and wane like the spring to the autumn, and it takes more perseverance than we'd really like to trudge on through the winter months.
This is what it is for me anyway. Although I don't think I could ever go back to a place of denying God's place in the universe, sometimes I'm not as in love with him as I think I ought to be. Some days I think about the wonder of God's creation and all the joy I take in it... and some days I don't. Some days I wake up and I can't wait to talk to Him, just nattering away all day long, and sometimes I don't. Or I spend the day thinking about Him and spending time where He is. And other days I just don't fancy it. I can't explain it other than admitting that I'm not the faithful person I wish I was – I don't always stick out the rough patches or the dry spells in order to be with Him. Sometimes I feel like I need a break from the relationship.

It worries me whenever this happens, because I know I'm ignoring Him, and I never want to do it but sometimes a break feels better. There's no moral standard, no voice of conscience or distracting conversation, no need to make time for someone else, I can just get all my own stuff done... I'm stubborn too, and I know better than to try and force even myself to do something when I feel like resisting it. It's that sense of 'I don't need you. Look, I can do it all myself.' I can't of course. I find I like who I am a lot less when I cut God out of my life. My patience shortens, I'm uncharitable and mean towards others, if only in my head and not out loud, I lose the sense of underlying joy that sustains me from day to day. And why? Because I'm intent on keeping him away, I don't want to be dependant, I don't want to surrender, at least until it really comes down to the wire.

At the art show of two friends of mine today I had been feeling that way for a few weeks, not abandoning my God but certainly not giving Him the attention He deserves. I couldn't see the point in it, why not just take care of my own business? It was an excellent show, I bid on a painting (more on that later), ate some delicious food, met some great people and all seemed well. But in the quieter half of the evening when night had come on and the band had played, I found my feet moving without permission as one guy played a guitar and sang at the front of the hall. For some of the songs, not all but some, I found myself wanting to dance, to be graceful (which I'm not) and to express something. As I listened more closely I realised the songs that were having this effect were all worship songs, all sung heartfelt to God. I went, and sat, and listened, letting my mind run, and felt that strange sense of longing you have when you remember the house you used to live in, or the friends you used to know. I wanted what I'd had before. I'd been unfaithful, cold and distant, but God's great love and wanting for me had never changed, never faded. He loved me as much as before, was as wonderful as He had ever been. Where had I been? What had possessed me? I looked forward to the next time I could see Him and begin to rebuild the parts of our relationship I had let slip.

I think I may be ready to fall in love all over again.
 

In love with your sound - Spoken Groove