27 December

Eleven years ago today my baby girl was born and died.

And I will love thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun:

O I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands of life shall run

Robert Burns

And these three remain:

faith, hope and love.

But the greatest of these is love

1 Cor 13:13 (NIV)

little bits and pieces of joy

When I find it hard to see the bigger picture I need to train my eyes to look for the little bits that add up to the view.


I remind myself that 'joy' isn't always written in 6-foot high neon letters, and isn't shouted from the rooftops.


Often it's quieter then that, spoken more softly.


Sometimes because it doesn't shout 'look at me!' it's harder to spot. But it's there.

finally finishing the quilt I started a year ago

sun-flamed clouds

a proper cup of tea from a teapot

unexpected flowers from Hubs

I guess because it's also my middle name I carry it around with me wherever I go, too.

I can see your halo (apologies to Beyonce)

My small boy sees haloes everywhere. When he was tiny he used to call them 'holies' - which is apt.
I'm so pleased I managed to capture (inadvertently) his very own halo:

He is such a blessing

clarity

When we were on holiday in Cornwall I was so struck by the quality of light there. 
Everything was pin-sharp. It was really striking

Of course, it's always easier to see things more clearly on holiday, with so much sky and sea all around.

I always feel better about things, and myself, in Cornwall.

And I had a 'ping!' moment, which was as if a light had shone on a thought...

I often feel that the world is a mean, hard, brutal place, and that I should be defensive and prepared for whatever mean, hard thing is due to come my way. But when I blog, and more importantly, when I read other people's blogs, I see so clearly that the world isn't always tough and unyielding. And I gain so much from seeing the world through others' eyes.

It really does help to steer me towards a kinder way of thinking, towards the world, and towards myself.

And for that, I am truly thankful.

missing

So our computer gave up. It literally crashed, oldest child having dropped it (yeah, he feels bad).

Apart from piggybacking on a friend's computer in order to attend to necessary bill-paying things, I had no internet access for a few weeks. I would go to sit down to do a bit of online noodling, and then see the empty desk.


I went from petulance - I miss YouTube! - to extreme stoicism - for heaven's sake, Deborah, it's just a THING! You are spoilt, spoilt, SPOILT! - to sadness...


...because what I really, really missed was community, the online faith community - sharing, reading, laughing, reflecting, joining in.


Yes, of course I love my family and friends dearly, and I value face to face time. 


But you guys whose blogs I follow are valued too, equally but differently.
And I am so glad to be back amongst you. I still have lots more I want to share. Like this:

Cornwall Easter 2012

Easter 2012

Easter 2012

spring forward

The clocks go forward to British Summer Time and all of a sudden Spring comes hurtling,
pell-mell, into full view.

All the flowers have gone a bit doolally this week, bursting out all over the place:

We've had a week of unbroken sunshine. I'm a glass half-empty girl, convinced that all this sunshine now will use up our miserly quota for the year and there won't be any left for Summer.

Husband (glass half-full) says it's like tossing a coin - just because the first 99 times are heads, doesn't mean the 100th one will be. Sunshine now doesn't necessarily mean no sunshine for Summer. We'll see.

It's been warm enough to eat outside, almost unheard of in March.

my glorious friend Sue and I catching some rays yesterday lunchtime

I'd love to say this is my back garden, but it isn't:

my youngest, doing what boys do best

Thank you, my Lord, for a beautiful day.

spring, suspended

Well.

Just as I was getting used to brighter days and a little more colour, it turned foggy.

This is what I walked to work in:

It was a real pea-souper today, and spookily quiet. And the air was thick with water vapour.

A fellow pedestrian and I made each other jump when we both appeared out of the gloom - with no visibility and sounds all muffled, we simply didn't see the other one.

I thought I'd left Winter behind. I'm missing the bright colours of Spring. I've had enough of the grey.