There was yet more snow here yesterday.
This is another shot from my ipod. Just because I can.
My dull, bland, 60s estate looks interesting and wonderful: or at least it does to me. There is no point going out by car (and it is not that safe) and many things are cancelled. The house is full of 5 noisy children needing to be walked: boys are like puppies- if they are not exercised at frequent intervals they become intolerable.
So I am inside, working at a much slower pace and having time to be creative. Sometimes at Christmas it is easy to feel like a homiletical battery hen: lots to plan for — combine that with the protestant work ethic and self-imposed pressure mounts. Worship planning becomes a grim duty (the puck-ish part of me wonders if experiencing worship prepared like that also becomes a grim duty- ‘It was boring, dull and irrelevant so it must have been good for me’).
I pick up anxiety from other full time ministers that they are not ‘doing enough’ as they can’t get out, or sublimated boasting as to how much they have managed to ‘clear’ in their study. I used to join in that game; now I mentally back away when conversations like that happen. Hearing them makes me feel tired and life-less. Sometimes I wonder if I am cut out to be a Methodist minister when others seem to find no hesitation in playing that game.
So I am inside, in the snow, planning, taking time, playing the guitar, filling notebooks, going up blind alleys, coming back again, pausing to pray and loving it. Occasionally I pop outside for my patent game of ‘snow football’ (a game devised to exhaust 9-10 year old boys and their inexhaustible supply of adrenaline which involves lots of fighting, falling in the snow and the occasional contact with a football) and repeat the process.
Thank you God for days like these.