Light in the Darkness - Shine, Jesus, Shine

I was born into a Christian family. It was a mix of Catholic and Protestant and some had a stronger faith than others. I was baptised in a Church of England church, but my Sunday Schools were always Methodist. One was a strict Wesleyan Chapel that could not accept monetary gifts from my father, a publican. I have always had my faith, never faltering in my darkest of days, and believe me, I have pulled through some dark, hard times. I believe in ‘each to their own’, respectful of family and friends beliefs, non-beliefs, thoughts and preferences. If I have a grandchild sleeping over, they always get a ‘night-night, God bless’.

My christening gifts included a C of E Book of Common Prayer and a bible with my initials on. These were from both sets of grandparents, I think. As a child, I was fascinated by the picture inside the prayer book, ‘The Light of the World’ by Holman Hunt, and found the person, who I later learnt to be Jesus, a bit scary looking. The light in my darkness. 

Our recent stay in Dumfries and Galloway got off to a confusing start when there was a mix up concerning our accommodation. We’ve stayed in the same lodge so many times that we consider it to be our own. It took a few moments to accept that it was occupied. All turned out fine. There are only six lodges spaced between trees and shrubs, all very private and all much the same. We soon found ours. It was only tea-time, around five, but dark already. This is a recognised Dark Sky area and glancing up, I couldn’t believe my eyes, especially my peculiar eyes. The sky was full of more stars than I’d ever seen, sparkling brightly, some tiny, some big, millions of them. We stopped unloading the car and switched off the lights and torches we were using, and just stood, staring at the sky. I could actually see them, my eyes, with problem vision giving me a struggle to focus all the time, could process this wonderful night sky. The most amazing lights in the darkness.

On Christmas Eve, my daughter and I took her three children to the Christingle service at our local church. The children had been before to various services and to Christingle last year, so knew to sit quietly. After a while they were a bit fidgety. Matilda had seen a classmate across the aisle and wanted to sit with her, but was too shy to move. The boys, who had been sitting together, now had their mother between them and the threat of no Christingle orange. There was respite in the chance to sing as a well-known hymn began. As we stood, I heard one of the boys say ‘It’s Nanna’s God bless you song’ as I popped Matilda to her friend, with a ‘thank you’ to her Nanna who is a friend of mine. Shine, Jesus, Shine. I used to choose it a lot when my children were small and part of my Sunday School class. With all the children joining in the chorus, it must be a popular hymn from school assembly. A little later a loud chorus of ‘Sing Hosanna’ was raising the roof. At the end, all lights were switched off and flames from all the Christingles flickered around the church as everyone sang Away in a Manger. Beautiful lights.

A light in the darkness, a light at the end of a tunnel, a flicker of hope, that cloud with the silver lining. There is always hope for everyone, faith or not.

No poem today, sorry, but thanks for reading. A Happy New Year to everyone. Pam x

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Blue Sky Thinking

This week my lawn mower broke down.  It seems like an insignificant detail but for me it meant respite:  at least for one day.  It was the first time this year that I could actually sit in my garden without working.  I put the sun-lounger in the middle of a daisy-filled, foot high, meadow that has replaced the lawn and having satisfied myself that there were no wild animals hiding in the undergrowth, I put on shorts and sunglasses, to relax while the washing dried.

I looked at the sky.  I love looking at the sky.  I didn’t look at it for long because I drifted off to sleep

but later I decided to research the sky.  Something was at the back of my mind. Something I had seen in a television series presented by Professor Brian Cox.  Fortunately, I had bought the book from the series, Wonders Of The Solar System and after a short time reading I opened my notebook and began to form a poem.

 

As part of the series, Professor Cox went up in a Lightning jet fighter to the edge of our atmosphere, to experience for himself and to show his audience a phenomenon that few human beings will ever see. The English Electric Lightning is a 1950’s supersonic plane that was used by the RAF as an interceptor with another characteristic, previously a military secret: It can also fly far higher than it designated operating height of 18,000 metres, (66,000 feet). On a NATO exercise in 1984, an RAF pilot attempted to fly it at 27,000 metres (88,000 feet), to test its ability to intercept the U2 spy plane. The Lightning surpassed expectations reaching a height that took the pilot above 99 per cent of the earth’s atmosphere.

 

During his own experience at the same altitude, Professor Cox announces:

“I’m seeing the land, the air and the beginnings of the vacuum of infinite space in a single field of view and the word to describe it is ‘fragile’.’’

 

I hope that if you haven’t seen the series that you will take a look at the link ,  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwgfU228clE or get hold a copy of the book.  As a child, I was fascinated by flight and wanted to know everything there was to know about ‘all that nothing that can never end, ’ in particular what held it all up there. Scientists are still struggling with the same question, so I can take solace form that.  I found the series truly mesmerising and have to thank the Professor for inspiring my poem.

 

 

 

The Thin Blue Line

 

Up there.

Way up there,

beyond the nimbus and the stratus,

almost as far as your imagination dares to climb,

at the edges of existence,

enveloping our atmosphere,

holding life together,

sits the thin blue line.

 

Unless you dare to leave the gravity that holds you.

Unless you fly so high, you almost venture into space.

Unless you go beyond the oxygen and nitrogen that breathe you,

you may never see the smile that curves around our earthly mother’s face.

 

We live our lives beneath it,

it holds the warmth inside it,

protects us from the solar scorch

and violent cosmic winds.

Fragile and invisible,

it grows the green that feeds us,

it waters all of Eden,

it provides a promised land.

 

We cannot feel or touch it

but if we don’t respect it,

then our children’s, children’s, children

may not share your world and mine.

We push it to the limit,

stress it out with greed and industry

and like any other living thing,

one day,  it may flat-line.

 

Look up from your hand-set,

switch off your computer,

go into the open 

and gaze up to the sky.

Wonder at its wonder,

it vastness and simplicity,

take time to simply sit

and watch the clouds roll by.

This is our home,

our planet earth,

filled with beauty and diversity.

We are fortunate to live beneath the thin blue line.

 

Adele V Robinson.

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