At this afternoon's Friday Gathering, I was speaking on Remembering focussing in on Genesis 9 and the rainbow.  As I read the verses aloud, I was struck by how many times God said, "this will be a reminder to me".

I was left wondering - is God's memory as rubbish as mine that this needs to be dinned into the Divine consciousness.  Or, as someone else suggested (and I have here interpretted), is it that God is so sorely tempted to zap us that this almost becomes a mantra "I will not zap, I will not zap..."

Saw this today on social media.  It made me smile.  It also made me think.

Today I spent a little time dividing the poppy seeds I had bought (allegedly 7000 red, 300 white) between as many tiny resealable plastic bags as I could.  In the end I managed 29 before I ran out of seed.  Which suggests something of the order of 10 white and 200 red in each little bag.  I have no way of counting - the seeds are so tiny that the red poppy ones look like specks of dust.

Scattered next spring by whoever takes them away, these tiny specks of nothingness have the potential, given the right conditions, to germinate, grow and blossom, albeit fleetingly, next summer before casting their own seeds in the hope of another flourishing.

There is something utterly ridiculous about believing something so tiny as a poppy seed, sprinkled from a small plastic bag onto a random piece of ground (or carefully into a pot) will actually survive and thrive.  But that's the nature of corn poppies, they do just that... that's why they flowered in Flanders, and that's why, red or white, they can remain a powerful symbol of hope. 

Insignifcant, unnoticed seeds, trampled underfoot, which when fully grown bring delight to children and stir memories in the minds and hearts of adults.  Not a gazillion miles removed from a story about a mustard seed after all.

I think everything is just about ready for Sunday morning now, when we will take time to remember and to reflect - and then move onwards again, working for the inbreaking Kingdom of God's Shalom.

Mentioned to me today by my Pastoral Supervisor...

Prayer is like watching for

The kingfisher. All you can do is

Be there where he is like to appear, and

Wait.

Often nothing much happens;

There is space, silence and

Expectancy.

No visible signs, only the

Knowledge that he’s been there

And may come again.

Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,

You have been prepared.

But when you’ve almost stopped

Expecting it, a flash of brightness

Gives encouragement.

Prayer Is Like Watching For the Kingfisher – by Ann Lewin

Wandering into my kitchen, a looked out of the window and saw a wonderful city sunrise - gorgeous colours and stark sikhouettes of buildings and cranes.  Fleeting beauty as the light spreads, dispersing the night.

It is as near as makes no odds 24 hours since the train on which I sat enjoying the tranquility and getting my work done came to an abrupt stop just north of Oxenholme and the story of a life lost on the tracks began to unfold.

As I paused to enjoy the beauty of this new day, to delight in the moment and to give thanks for it, I was struck afresh by the wonder of life and creation.  Of late I have been pretty grumpy, which could be my age or my gender or any number of other things, but in those moments I remembered that actually I am a person charactersied by gratitude, more hopeful than hopeless, more positive than negative.  Need to deal with the grumps and negativity; need to savour the beauty of each new day.