It's good to be alive

Yes, it is good to be alive! I'm writing on a beautiful, crisp, sunny February day, reflecting upon a stunning evening light that flooded into our west-facing window yesterday afternoon which re-awakened the long since abondoned pastels artist in me. It did not, however, cause me to rush to the attic and find materials to try to capture it - why? because our women's group is back (by popular demand!) and I needed to be in the kitchen to cook for it. In actual fact two of us met back in Novemeber on cushions by candlelight in the other's sitting room while her young twins slept above us: sharing food, life and hopes... a beautiful and deeply spiritual evening. And three of us in January in my kitchen, a time to share each other's life stories and spiritual journeys thus far...

Last night we were six, which is very apposite as that's what the kitchen table seats! Christmas is over, the rush forgotten and time for women to think about themselves once more, hence the request to meet up again. As all but two had met each other at previous meals, there was an immediate sense of knowing and being known and there was a lot of catching up on families etc., but I'm learning to pray silently for the conversation to change and wait.
less than 2 minutes later (and after an hour's talk), the chat suddenly took on a much deeper focus as ways of engaging in spirituality were shared. Buddhism is the flavour of the moment as our local women's Buddhist retreat centre had attracted three to weekend meditation retreats/open days. On to re-incarnation equals 'resurrection of the body' discussions and I am learning the fruit of patience - part of me longs to dive into the conversation, instead I listen and wait... and eventually one asks what I believe. Again, I'm learning to be guided by the Spirit and not be didactic. Just one brief comment from me prompts a real interest in hearing about the Judao/Christian/Muslim alternative of one life to be lived. then, 'well, what happens when we die?' and on we go...

Last week but one I spent in Bedford helping my elder daughter prepare for her annual dance show - (this year on a grand scale in a real theatre with hundreds of costumes made by - yes me! ) But I also got out on 2 occasions to meet friends for coffee/lunch. With one, a hilarious time as we reflected upon death, iminent in his case and a slower one in my own, the attitudes and 'helpful' comments made by Christians who mean well(!) and the realisation that, yes, both of us actually do believe all we've professed all these years. salutory. sitting in a cafe, laughing and chatting openly about the coming chemo, time scales, families and faith - I was suddenly aware of the scandelized and fearful glances a couple sitting at the next table, partially behind a screen, were furtively making at me - they couldn't see my friend - so I took to glancing in the mirror above my friend's head and yes! the staff were listening in too! reflecting on it, it seems so sad that death is not to be mentioned - almost a supersticious sense that if it is resolutely pushed away it will not happen to one.
and yet, underneath is that fear and questioning - as our women's group needed to talk about last night.

the second outing, for lunch with friends I've known for over 25 years since our children were small, was poingnant - they too face early death, but not of themselves but their three sons - now aged 27;30 and 32. this time its MD and as a family they've carried this knowledge since the guys were in their early teens. They hold on to faith in a loving Creator God but its so hard to be helpless when you long to be doing something to make things better for those you love. very selflessly, they stay out of their single men's lives unless sought out for respite from lives lived to the full, and it reminded me forcefully of Jesus' heart cry for Jerusalem as a hen longing to gather her chicks under the protection of her wings, and yet holding back and allowing free choice to go its own way.

someone once said 'death is the only certainty we have in life' and I'm beginning to see that maybe we need to give folk safe space to allow them to bring out their fears - even if they don't join us on a journey in following Jesus at this point in their lives - and perhaps that's behind my vision to offer this kitchen table meeting space to a disparite group of busy women who are arriving hungry for more than bread...