Very early, Sunday morn, Grief rising up like a gathering storm, Day-break, Hearts ache, As the weight of it all begins to dawn. Thorns, nails, Mournful wails, Laid in a tomb that wasn't His own, Laden with spices, We make our way, Not even knowing who'll roll back the stone. Earth quake! Guards shake, Heavenly beings in dazzling white, Our hearts pound with fear, Afraid to draw near, We fall to the ground at this awesome sight. Don't fear! He isn't here. Why search for the living amongst the dead? Hurry, go! Let everyone know, That Jesus is risen, just as He said.
To love a Labrador, And all the crazy joy she brings, There's really nothing to it: You must simply learn to love these things: Early starts, Morning barks Dripping hair Rainy parks, Six o'clock On the dot, Rain or shine, Ready or not! Muddy paws, Mopping Floors, Early morning tug-of-wars. Boggy paths, Soggy baths, Crazy capers, Belly laughs. Sloppy kisses, Slimy ball, Dodging, Chasing, Bad recall. Chasing squirrels, Magpies too - Any moving thing will do! Being followed EVERYWHERE, Stolen bits of underwear, Chewed up slippers Patchy lawn, Shredded flowers, Papers torn. Licky face, Tea-towel chase, Zoomy round-the-table-race! Piles of sticks By the door, (Did I mention mopping floor?) Belly rubs, And sofa cuddles, Getting dragged through, Muddy Puddles. Thumping tail, And big hellos, Throw a stick And off she goes!
An hour of toil in the garden, Is always time well-spent Tugging out those stubborn old weeds, Which year upon year won't relent. An hour spent tending the garden, Is never wasted time, Lungs full of wonderful sweet, Spring air, Hands caked in dirt and grime. It's hard to feel glum in the garden, With birds chirping high in the trees, Potting up Pansies, so cheery and bright, Hair tugged about by the breeze. Cutting the deadwood, turning the earth, Allowing the sun to shine through, Seems to clear my cluttered mind, And lifts my spirits too. Thank you dear Lord for my garden, Humble and small though it be, It's a place where so often I've felt You are near, And Your joy surrounding me. Once You knelt down in a garden, And in terrible anguish You cried, "Thy will, not Mine, be done O Lord!" Abandoned. Betrayed. Denied. One Sunday morn, in a garden, You rose up again from the grave, Bringing salvation and mercy and grace, To the ones You came to save!
Lately, I’ve been getting myself in a bit of tiswas…
It’s all to do with time. Or rather the lack of it.
Finding time to write in a very hectic season of life can feel utterly impossible.
Today I almost gave up.
What was meant to be a ‘day off’ swiftly snowballed into a whole heap of chores. I find this happens to me a LOT.
So I said to God – “I can’t do this anymore – this writing thing. I just don’t have the time. Maybe you’ve asked the wrong gal’. Maybe I’ll give it another crack when I retire. But right now, Lord, I just have to let this go. I give up!”
A voice inside me said: “Do you think that life will be any less busy when you retire?”
I sighed. “Lord, will there ever be time?”
I made a cup of tea and sat for a moment and stilled and quieted my soul before God. I sang. I prayed. I surrendered.
I looked out of the patio doors – out into the garden. I could see one of the beds needed weeding and dead-heading. Uugh… Another job I never seem to have the time for.
I glanced at the clock. 2:50pm. I had ten minutes before I needed to leave for the school run…Just ten minutes.
Then I had a crazy idea!
‘Why don’t you set a timer on your phone and see how much gardening you can do in ten minutes…?”
Okay. Sounds a bit bonkers. But I’ll give it a go!
I threw on my coat, grabbed a garden fork and got to work.
And this was the result! Who would have thought that just ten minutes worth of gardening would produce a whole pot-full of weeds, old dead stems and garden waste?
As I tugged out those tufts of Chickweed, and snapped off the dead-wood, I remembered the advice my nine year old had recently given me: “Mum, just try to write 50 words per day. And keep going. That’s all you need to do.”
What a wise little owl! Was God trying to show me something here?
It’s true – I might not have great chunks of time to spare during this season of life. I might NEVER have great chunks of time.
But I could find 10 minutes. Surely?
Just 10 minutes a day.
What a revolutionary thought! You know, 10 minutes a day might just be doable.
And progress, however small, is still progress. In fact, maybe the whole point of progress is consistency – not speed.
I applied the ten minute test to my writing this afternoon. I grabbed my notebook and pen. I set my timer, and guess what? I didn’t just write 50 words. I wrote 140! Perhaps I can do the same tomorrow. And the day after that. And little by little, who knows – perhaps 2022 really will be the year I finish that book?
And I might have a garden to be proud of too.
As an Early Years Practitioner, there are a few classic Picture Books that never fail to enthrall and delight the children I look after.
These stories are often about very ordinary things, (a little girl and her mummy having tea at the dinner table) coupled with an added twist, such as a tiger knocking on the door and inviting himself in…
One such story is Michael Rosen and Helen Obxenbury’s ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt’ – the story of a simple family stroll, on a beautiful day.
The twist is, that as the children are walking along, they pretend that they are off to find a Bear! They’re going on a Bear Hunt. They’re going to catch a BIG one!
As their walk continues, they meet LOTS of different obstacles along the way, such as:
- A deep, cold river
- Thick, oozy mud
- and a swirling, whirling snowstorm
Because everybody knows, that every good story must contain OBSTACLES!
And anyone that has read the story will remember the repeated refrain:
We can't go over it. We can't go under it. Oh no! We've got to go through it!
It struck me this morning, as I was reading the story for the gazillionth time, that a writer’s journey is very much like this…
As we attempt to write our stories, to dream up vivid characters, to create a solid story arc, to nail the perfect ending, to hook our reader from the very beginning – we come against MANY obstacles along the way.
It can be so hard to keep going when we feel stuck in the thick oozy mud, lost in a whirling snowstorm and totally unable to cross the deep cold river (or face editing that manuscript!)
We journey on, through the ups and downs. We finish our stories. We do our best to query agents, to enter competitions, to send our stories out there.. only to be faced with knock-backs, closed doors and rejection letters. It can feel like an endless journey fraught with obstacle after obstacle, set-back after set-back.
But something within us keeps us going… The sense of adventure keeps calling us onward. The beauty of the journey – the high-point of connecting with one reader – helps us get back up again. The thought that the journey is leading us ‘to catch a big one’ – keeps us pressing on…
The thought that we are doing all we can to use our gift for the glory of God, makes it all worthwhile.
And we know instinctively that there are absolutely no shortcuts. There are no easy routes through. We know, along with all other writers, that:
We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. Oh no! We’ve got to go through it!
So, at the start of 2022, let’s keep pressing forward. Let’s seize the day. Let’s pull our coats ever tighter around us and brace the wind, the rain, the snow! Let’s say together: “We’re not scared!” and enjoy this beautiful day, this beautiful opportunity that we’ve been given! Let’s enjoy the journey! You never know, we might even discover a bear at the end of it!
Ring out the old, and ring in the new, Another year passes, but one thing is true, A thousand small blessings have slipped through my hands, Moments uncountable, vast as the sands. Ordinary days that have come, And then gone, A sunrise, a sunset, A whisper, A song. Times spent with family, Long summer days, Here for a moment, Then gone in a haze. I wish I could hold all these moments forever, Time marches onward, But love ceases never. So I'm thankful, so thankful, For all that has been, For the highs and the lows, And the bits in between, This journey of life With its ups and its downs, The trials and the triumphs, The joys and the frowns, This life I've been given, I long to embrace, To cherish each moment, Each dear, precious face, Yet to live in surrender, Not grasping too tight, To live for eternity To walk in the light, Knowing this life is a gift from above, That it all comes from you, Oh great Father of love.
I’m an unabashed collector of books of all kinds – particularly Picture Books. I am drawn to Picture Books like a Magpie is to shiny things. I love the marriage of words and pictures. I love sharing stories with children. I love the humour and playfulness that Picture books often contain, and as a writer, I particularly admire the skill of the illustrator, at adding so much of the magic.
A small percentage of Picture Books are both written and illustrated by the same person. I would absolutely LOVE to be in this category, but sadly, my drawing skills are woefully deplete.
Emma Chichester Clark is one such talent – and there is a particular book that comes out again and again at Christmas in our house – first being enjoyed by my own children, and now by the children I look after.
It’s the story of two strangers, Melrose and Croc, who come to the big city. Both are lonely and looking for a friend.
Like all good stories, things go from bad to worse for both of them – especially Croc!
Until lovely music draws them both to the ice-skaing rink…
…where they are destined to bump into each other!
And the two lonely strangers become best of friends.
This sweet book will always be a favourite of mine. And it could partly explain my deep affection for Labradors…
I hope you’ve enjoyed this post.
12 more sleeps till the big day!
Boxing Day, 1982. I had just turned eight years old. And something magical was about to happen.
‘The Snowman,’ a British animated film and symphonic poem directed by Dianne Jackson and based on Raymond Brigg’s delightful 1978 picture book, was first broadcasted to the British Public, on Channel Four.
It instantly won the hearts of viewers everywhere. With it’s hauntingly beautiful music, composed by Howard Blake, fantastic animation, and slightly poignant ending – the whole 26 minutes was just enthralling to me as a wide-eyed child.
It has since become something of an annual Christmas event! The Snowman is now televised every year, on Channel Four, normally on Christmas Eve.
Growing up, I became an avid fan, and vividly remember watching the version which featured David Bowie, (a huge fan of Raymond Briggs) with my little brother, John. Bowie, played the grown-up version of the boy featured in the animation, and as viewers, we found out that it was all true, and not just a dream, because grown up Bowie still had the scarf that was given to him by Father Christmas at the snowman’s party!
Collecting all things Snowman, soon became a craze.
I don’t remember the year that I was given these lovely Royal Doulton figurines…or whether I received them all at one time. But I do remember being absolutely thrilled with them, especially with the Snowman Musical Box, which plays a magical rendition of “We’re Walking In the Air’ as the Snowman pirouettes round and around. Quite delightful!
.These figures have been loved and admired and cherished for many years! And amazingly are all still in incredible condition.
Just look at this beautiful plate too!
Aaah, I’m feeling very nostalgic just looking at these.
I hope you’ll agree, they are beautiful keepsakes – and I know that my own children will cherish them some day too.
What are some of your childhood Christmas Memories? I’d love to hear from you!
Most of you will know by now, that we have recently welcomed a new addition to our family!
Meet Amber, our Fox Red Labrador!
Now…there was much debate this year about whether we should bother putting up a Christmas Tree. I wasn’t sure how a 17 week old pup would respond to a twinkling tree full of inviting looking baubles.
My daughter Grace convinced me to at least give it a try – with a promise that if the whole affair was a complete disaster, that she would help me pack the tree away again!
Well, I am delighted to announce that almost 2 weeks later, the tree is still standing – and still intact! Granted, there has been a little bit of bauble bopping going on here and there. But on the whole, this Labrador has been extremely well behaved!
I’m also delighted to share with you these delightful decorations that just arrived in the post today, courtesy of the wonderful Etsy based ‘Brown Bear Interiors!’
Needless to say, I am over the moon with them! For me, Christmas is all about the little things. And these ‘little things’ just about made my day!
How about you, dearest reader friends? Do you have any photos or stories about pets at Christmas time? I’d love to hear from you!
I’ll let you into a little secret – today is my birthday! Hooray!
Birthday’s and Christmases throughout childhood, for me, always, ALWAYS meant books! Whether it was a brand new bundle of Notebooks for scribbling down my stories, or the next instalment of the Anne of Green Gables series, it was always such a pleasure to open a gift that kept on giving!
One such book was given to me, by my mum – oooh, many moons ago now. I can’t have been much older than 16, so this book has been on my shelf for over 30 years now! And it still brings joy every time I take it out of it’s hardback case and have a look through.
The ‘Penhaligon’s Scented Treasury of Verse and Prose’ is a wonderful collection of all things Christmas, containing extracts from ‘A Christmas Carol’, ‘Little Women’, plus all sorts of illustrated Carols and Poems – to name but a few! It even features a traditional Mrs Beeton recipe for Christmas Pudding!
Penhaligon’s is a British Perfume House, founded in the late 1860’s by William Henry Penhaligon, a Cornish Barber who moved to London and became the Court Barber and Perfumer to Queen Victoria.
It’s no surprise therefore, that one of the unique things about this stunning hard-back book, is that it is delicately perfumed ‘with spicy notes of cloves and cinnamon and small fir cones, it is reminiscent of hot toddies and log fires and guaranteed to add a festive air.’
The scent still lingers to this very day. But what I love best about it, is the beautiful Victorian style illustrations. Here is a sneak peek inside.
This lovely book will remain on my shelf for always – and I’m sure will be loved and treasured for generations to come!
I hope you enjoyed looking at it as much as I did.