It was a joy to be back in the pews at Saint Oswald’s again recently, after weeks of home confinement since our celebration of Christmas. The arrival of a blanket of January snow made house prisoners of many of us and exacerbated unwelcome feelings of loneliness, and isolation both old and not so!
I returned to the church fold for evensong on the celebration of Candlemass. In mediaeval England the official end of the Christmas season, whilst for us, the celebration of the presentation of the baby Jesus to the elderly, frail Simeon, waiting patiently in the temple to meet his saviour.
My hibernating state of mind (and body!) was immediately uplifted and awoken by the soaring choral offerings of evensong. The spine-tingling, hair raising sonorist Nunc dimittis. Closing my eyes, I could imagine the biblical story of the aged Simeon, waiting to see Jesus before he could peacefully take his last breath. I even wondered, sitting in my pew, if at some (distant I hope) point in the future, I could prevail upon our choir to serenade my ‘departing in peace’, with the radiant, transcendent singing. Sometimes, my work at the Hospice, suggests to me that we often need permission of sorts to depart this world, leaving our loved ones behind, and this glorious music would be a wonderful accompaniment and encouragement for the journey ahead.
In spite of hopeful clumps of virginal, snowdrops forcing their way through the frozen churchyard, winter in February is still very much upon us and sometimes with a vengeance. Learning to hibernate, rest and retreat is very much a new and actively developing skill for me. My belligerent moggy Misty grows a huge, fluffy white coat at this time, which camouflaged her well in the snow, but it isn’t something I can easily emulate. Wearing extra layers of clothing can help, and only those who dare risk a FaceTime contact with me may actually glimpse my Mr Blobby-like appearance! Misty has not noticed any change.
Whilst we do need to rest and retreat during this fallow period it can for many of us seem a lonely and painful time. Five years into grief and a solo life, it has taken me all that time to realise we need to engage this wintering time as do animals and plants and not to fight against it.
Dying back and burrowing into my garden doesn’t seem for me an enticing proposition (nor does any sort of metamorphosis), but perhaps there are other ways of surviving this time of seclusion productively. I can (and do with ease) lay down even more layers of adipose tissue (ie fat) around me with extra consumption of sponge puddings, and other comfort foods, but unlike our well adapted, often dormant animal friends, these extra body layers stick can stubbornly around the torso, well into the spring, summer, and beyond! Cooped up in our suburban lairs even feverish spring cleaning( unlikely to be feverish in my house!) can do little to metabolise these winter storage accumulations.
Research has shown that crafting of all kinds can lower blood pressure and reduce pain, so I’ve picked up my dusty, knitting needles again. The quiet, creative arts fit well with this time of sanctuary, although Misty and I have fallen out over the ‘rights’ to my ball of wool and her needs to play with it. Also, my frequent dropped stitches and mistakes can raise my blood pressure rather than lower it as is suggested. Sadly my various wonky hats, scarves, and fingerless (!) gloves will not find their way to the church craft stalls or into Christmas stocking offerings for family. I now knit a very satisfying line in dolly clothes for my three year old granddaughter, Orla, who is overjoyed and never judgemental of my holey, haphazard offerings.
Reading always helps me cope, especially my recently acquired audiobooks online, consuming them while cosseted in my ‘best Christmas present’ heated chair blanket. I find slow, spiritual reading, does comfort my soul, almost as much as chicken soup. However, having taken the biblical plunge to dive into David Suchet’s warm, comforting tone as he covers the ‘Bible A Day At A Time,’ this perhaps only sounded a good idea in principle. I seldom get past Exodus before I nod off, at his luxurious hypnotic tone simply sends me to sleep well before I even arrive at Moses and the plague of locusts.
At this rate, David Suchet and I may well take till next year to arrive at the New Testament and I may even not hear of the birth of Jesus until Christmas 2026!
Spring will however soon be here and the daffodils will trumpet its arrival. The church will also regail us with its Lenten program. Giving up those sponge puddings and hidden chocolate bars consumed during crafting hours may or may not happen. However, as I write this I am absorbed in the arrival outside my study window, of a solitary Robin, cocking his cheeky head at me and singing, albeit a rather muted song. He has nevertheless made me smile. I read that, traditionally, this lovely little bird got his redbreast from being scorched, whilst protecting baby Jesus, from the flames of a fire in the manger, I remember too that after my husband’s death this little chap, cheerleader of the bird family, appeared to me regularly, as if to lift my spirits, and encourage me onwards with a solitary life. His presence now seems impervious to his impending doom, if a hovering Misty spies his arrival! This resilience brings hope and comfort for some, signifying the loved one’s presence and on this grey cold dank February day a tender reminder that love and remembrance live on. His wordless chirpy tone brings to me the message that we are not alone, and we must cling to our faith and trust in the future, even in these difficult times we live in.
I recently asked Sue Young to write a short blog for us occasionally and I must admit, her first edition (shown below) had me laughing out loud. I hope you find this section an interesting and enlightening addition to our Website.
Sue Writes…..
PRODIGAL PARISHIONER
As the weather worsens and a kaleidoscope of fallen leaves decorate my path into church, I feel winter’s arrival and it also reminds me that Christmas is around the corner. Snow is forecast this week and suddenly I realise that I have made no preparations for gritting my drive at home. Kind souls at St. Oswald’s will no doubt enable the old and creaky amongst us (no names) to get to a service safely, without a tumble. My new all-singing, all-dancing walking stick helps, although as a Church Warden will testify, it’s ‘lit-up end’ falls of regularly, disappearing under the nearest pew. Its red button alarm, intended to signify to others that I might need help, is far too easy to press unintentionally. The ‘Silence’ of Remembrance Day was (I am pleased to say) not shattered.
I feel blessed these days to be personally delivered of the Eucharist, brought to me in my distant pew in the bowels of the church. It feels a bit like a home delivery service, though not pizza, but without the need to put in an order first. Standard Bread and Wine and no need to pay. At least in money!! This gesture to help for me avoids the possibility for me taking a potential face-plant en-route to the Alter. Accepting this kind of ‘help in the pew’ delivery service with grace does challenge my self esteem a little, but nevertheless I am deeply grateful to receive it. I hope that, seated in my pew, I shall continue to be able to handle and imbibe the offering, taken carefully from the Celebrant.
Cold, darkened winter Sunday afternoons are only relieved for me by Evensong, now being offered at 3.30pm and not at 6 pm. Advent is upon us and its only a stones thrown to Christmas. I am not sure if the Geese are getting fat, but there is nothing like a Christingle service memory from my past to highlight fire and health & safety issues around children and lit candles. My memory of my eldest son (then a 12 year old acolyte with arsonist tendencies), setting alight to his younger sister’s cassock with his Paschal Candle. Forgiveness was a long time coming.
My Grandchildren also took part in a Nativity last year, what a joyful sight. Keeping the ‘Baby Jesus’ safe from harm during these proceedings can often be a perilous issue. I remember well a child of mine, attired as an angel with drooping wings, absconded with the Baby Jesus (much to the horror of all present) after an angry chase around the Alter the baby lost a leg and the Virgin Mary was inconsolable!
Christmas is synonymous for most of us with an element of childhood joy. In my twilight solo years, the amazing Choral music we can experience at St. Oswald’s makes this a special time for adults too. My personal challenge is always to keep hold of my fragile emotions at this time, or soon I shall run out of Kleenex. It is a time when loneliness and loss of all kinds, can deeply effect us. Going back to an empty house (apart from a grumpy cat) after the buzz and love created in a Carol Service can be a hard one to face. I haven’t yet taught said grumpy cat to cook diner for me, but if I switch on the television to break the deafening silence, it will soon be obvious that my life is extraordinarily blessed. Our World all around is in crisis and I must remember to dry my own personal tears and keep our suffering world in my prayers.
