Another favourite place

A few weeks ago I spoke about a place that was special to me - Venice.
Of course, we probably all have a number of places that are special to us for different reasons. Our family, for example, has a favourite Italian restaurant. This is where we go to celebrate family occasions - birthdays, anniversaries, graduations etc. It's called "Prego" and it is in Lanark.
Fortunately we've had a number of special birthdays and family reunions of late, so we've had some good excuses to take a trip to Prego.

The food is always really good, though maybe not spectacular. The decor is pleasing and comfortable but maybe not amazing. For an Italian restaurant, the espresso could be a bit better. But it is a wonderful place as far as we are concerned, and the first place we think of going to if we have any excuse at all for eating out. What makes it a special place for us is the staff who serve you. You get the feeling that you've been invited to a friend's house for dinner.

It's the gift of hospitality. And it's what makes the place special.

Of course, you don't have to run a restaurant to exercise this gift. All you have to do is treat other people as if they matter to you (and to do it because they do matter to you- since any falseness is easily picked up) and then you can make space for that person, or people, to be themselves and have a good time.

Apart from genuine hospitality, something else that is always on the menu is the 'prego stick' a mouth-watering pastry that you can have as a starter with a savoury tomato/chilli dipping sauce, or as a dessert with a rich caramel sauce.
For the 21st birthday of one of my daughters, a couple of weeks ago, they made one into a ring for her with candles and sang 'Happy Birthday' to her as they handed it over. Nice touch. Nice taste.



In a couple of months time we're going to have our very own Prego just round the corner from our house. So we can walk there. How good is that? (Well, I'll let you know. But if you're ever in Lanark or Carluke, why not try it out for yourself?)

"L" Plates for Life

Learners of Slough, 2, originally uploaded by Chubby Bat.

It had not occurred to me that some folk might not know what an "L" plate is. But that's the beauty of the internet - that we can learn customs and cultures from around the world.
For anyone who doesn't know, or hasn't guessed, the "L" plate is used by learner drivers, who have not yet passed their driving test to warn other drivers of that fact!
When you've been learning to drive, it's a great feeling when you pass your test and you can rip up the "L" plates and go solo.
Although that was about 30 years ago for me, I still remember the feeling, the sense of liberation, and the scary excitement of getting into the driver's seat with no one else in the car and knowing that this time I was ultimately responsible myself.
Mind you, in terms of being a Christian 'disciple' (learner) I am afraid the "L" plates are still very much in place. And there is no way that I could ever pass the test. Jesus once told his learners to "take my yoke upon you."
I think nowadays he might say - 'put the "L" plates on and let me sit with you. We're going out for a driving lesson.'
You see, until you've passed the test, the car is ultimately under the control of the driving instructor not the learner, and yet the learner is the one who has to work the controls and try to guide the car safely around any obstacles. It's a kind of shared responsibility.
In life we are not mean to be mere passengers being carried along and just watching the view through the window. We have to take responsibility. But the disciple knows that he/she is not yet capable of going solo and needs the reassurance, guidance and much greater experience of the instructor alongside.

(Since it is such a long time since I passed my driving test and since all my children have now also done the same, I couldn't find any 'L' plates in the house, so I am grateful for this photo from Flickr.com)

Duel at dawn

Now here's a strange thing! I took my camera with me to the conference at Aviemore - nothing unusual about that - but the thing is - I didn't use it. (Apart from this one photograph taken from my hotel room window.)
The weather was great, with lots of blue sky and clear air. My contribution to the conference was not too demanding - leading the worship band - so I had time on my hands. There was snow on the mountains and I could have snapped any number of picture-postcard scenes.
But for some reason I just didn't want to.
I had thought I might actually use the camera indoors too - take some shots of the conference itself. But again, for some reason that I can't explain, I chose not to.
I've been trying to think what that reason might be, and the only thing I can come up with is this. Photography, by its very nature, involves the photographer in some way standing outside of the subject and looking in or looking at it. On this occasion, though, I didn't want to be an onlooker: I wanted to be a participant. I wanted to be on the inside of the experience, not observing it from the outside. So I just left my camera in my hotel room the whole time.

Actually I think some people go through most of their lives looking on from the outside, never really living inside their own experience- never really letting go. Observing not participating.
It's certainly true of some Christians in this part of the world when it comes to worship. They become observers, onlookers, an audience, rather than participants who have 'let go' and allowed themselves to become immersed or caught up in the experience.
Thankfully, at last night's closing worship of the Re-Energise Conference this was not the case. The singing was marvellous and it was really great, and humbling, to be involved in making the music. All worship (whatever style it employs, and whatever size the congregation may be) ought to be like this, I think.

As for the picture above, I have no idea what the motor-cyclists were doing. The most obvious explanation is that these were new riders learning how to handle the bike. (In fact, at least one of the bikes does have an 'L' plate. )

But I have another explanation - given that this photograph was taken early in the morning. This was a DUEL! One of the riders had thrown his gauntlet - or at least his motorcycle glove - and challenged the other to a joust. On a given signal the two riders would set off across the tarmac away from each other, turn, and then accelerate towards each other at tope speed, and as they came side by side each would try to knock over his opponent from his bike...

The only thing is... it didn't happen. They never got above 5mph.
So, maybe the first explanation was the right one after all.

Chalk and cheese

This is the congregation of PCEA Kiambaa in Kenya singing in their usual energetic way. That's what I like - energy! That's why I am here at Aviemore for a Church Without Walls conference called Re-Energise. We've just been to morning worship led by the Moderator of the Church of Scotland. He was telling us about his recent trip to Ghana which was interesting enough but he was also trying to get us to sing some songs from Ghana - unaccompanied. (Good in one sense that it means those of us who are in the band could have a morning off.) However... compared to African singing, ours was 'Mogadon Praise!" United in lethargy. Sleepers awake! Actually our singing to African singing was like chalk to cheese. Oh no- there's the cheese again! In fact, as someone actually said to me the singing was dreich! Thankfully the weather is not and the skies are blue.

Foosty

I love my cheese!

But I've been disappointed recently.

The last couple of times we have bought mature cheddar from the supermarket I've opened it and found that instead of the rich, mature, piquant flavour I was expecting, it just tasted mouldy, or as we would say in Scotland "foosty!"

(there's that fungus motif springing up again like dry rot)

Actually, I'm pretty drained at the moment. In two consecutive days I have conducted the funerals of two quite special people who were very dear to me. It was a great privilege to be able to do this in both cases, for both people were the most gracious, humble and gentle folk you could ever have met. They were both in their eighties. But why is it that not everyone grows more gracious with age? Some just get more grumpy.

I fear that as for myself (if I ever survive that long) instead of maturing in Christ-likeness, I will probably just go 'foosty' like some badly-kept cheese.

[Oh, by the way, the picture is of St. Cuthbert's Church in Edinburgh. It's looking good for its age, especially against a clear blue sky.]

Driving by again

You are right - you have seen this picture before. I just want to clear up a bit of confusion I may have caused with some people I have spoken to. It is proof that I am neither 'up with the times' nor 'down with the kids.'
Drive by Argument are not at this stage releasing an album.
The single 'The Sega Method' will be available on Monday, either as a download, or as 7 inch single. The tour begins this weekend.
There - that's cleared up that one - and given them another wee plug at the same time.
Make sure you download your copy. It's good.

A load of rot...

HEY! How did March get here so soon?
It 'snuck' up on me when I wasn't looking!

A bit like the St. Johnstone team that just knocked Motherwell out of the Cup tonight. (i.e. Wednesday 28th... before March snuck up on me)
Against my better judgment (but I have to say with very little resistance from me) I went with my brother to the match tonight.
I had one of those premonitions that we would lose. What I had not foreseen was how badly we would play, especially in the first half.
I say 'we' but of course I was just sitting down most of the time. (Although, so it seems were most of my team.)
But that is the good thing about following a team in any sport. You share the experience vicariously. You identify with it like Jewish people every Passover who talk as if they had been there on the night it happened.
But what about the accompanying picture?
I'll explain. I've seen fungus moving faster than our midfield did tonight. I think the Motherwell team may have given up football for Lent!
All I can say is I'm glad they reduced the ticket price for that match.
Maybe that's why my team reduced their performance?

The white angels of Springtime

I've never been much of a gardener, although there was a time when I knew all the Latin names of every plant in our garden and most of the ones in the plant nurseries. Maybe that's because I was more interested in reading books about plants and gardens than I was in getting my hands dirty and my muscles sore actually doing the work.

That last statement is not quite the whole truth because, to be honest, the bits of gardening I enjoyed most were building walls and fences, laying paths and erecting greenhouses. (All of which I have done at one time or another.)

Nowadays, though, the best bits in my garden are the bits where things happen without human intervention and where the absolute minimum of human effort is required to clear away the weeds. That means especially under the trees. And right now it means... SNOWDROPS!

They were getting a bit of a battering today with the strong winds and lashing rain so I couldn't zoom in too closely. It wouldn't have been fair on them. They are models of simple perfection and we shouldn't take too much notice of their momentarily ruffled appearance and temporary blemishes. They will bounce back to normal when the weather improves.

To me snowdrops are the most amazing flowers because of their combination of delicate fragility and dogged tenacity. To all of us in Scotland they are now always associated with Dunblane. But even here they were a symbol of hope and a sign of a future that refuses to lie down to anything that the past or the present might heap upon it.

Perhaps the thing I like most about snowdrops is that in some ways they can be incredibly difficult for gardeners to grow from scratch. But if they appear by themselves, and look after themselves, they flourish year after year with carefree abandon. That's my kind of gardening now.

Now you see it... now you don't

Question: How long does it take to grow a beech tree?
Answer: It takes about 120 years to reach its full height.
Question: How long does it take to destroy a beech tree?
Answer: About 3 or 4 minutes, if you have the right equipment.

The beech trees next to us were at least 120 and probably nearer 200 years old but in the space of a few minutes they were gone. All of them.
As far as I know the developers had not been given planning permission to remove them, but the one thing you can't do is put them back again once they have been felled.
It's like the toothpaste that has been squeezed out of the tube and can't be put back in again, or the words that have been spoken and heard but cannot then be unspoken. (We've all uttered a few of these, I'm sure.) Or the misplaced kick or pass in a game of rugby that is intercepted by the opposition. (Ask the Scotland rugby team about that one after this weekend!)

On the other side of the coin are the things that are easily started but not so easily stopped.
I remember telling the children in the church once about a petrol hovermower we used to have. Unlike many such mowers this one actually started quite easily, but one day it just refused to stop. I even tried some not very clever moves, like jumping on top of it - to no great effect. Since I had only just filled the petrol tank and it was likely to go on churning away for a good couple of hours, I eventually had to do the even sillier thing of yanking out the lead to the spark plug. It worked. Deprived of its vital spark it finally admitted defeat.
As we enter the season of Lent it is worth reflecting again on some of the things in life that are much easier started than stopped.

A special place

I started off this blog with it's cumbersome title, intending to use it simply to share some of my favourite photographs of reflections but I think the word random has overtaken the word reflections in recent days. Time, then, for another photograph from my favourite place. Venice.

Actually, I think I am simply getting withdrawal symptoms and needing another intoxicating 'fix' of the sights of this unique city. So I am planning to go back later this year with one of my daughters.

I first fell in love with Venice in 1974 when I was travelling round Europe as a student. At this point in our meandering journey we had visited what was then known as Yugoslavia. In fact, we had gone to the city of Llubljana in Slovenia. It was, however, the lowest point in our journey. We found the communist Yugoslavia very dull, grey and oppressive - not helped by the fact that a couple of us had taken ill with a tummy bug. Although it was late September the temperature was in the 90's. One of the girls in our group was stung by a wasp. And we couldn't find anyone who spoke English. (Fortunately another of the girls in our group spoke excellent German, which helped a little.) We decided to take the first train out of Llubljana, rather than look for a campsite. But this meant we had about four or five hours to kill. We went for something to eat. I remember eating some goulash but not enjoying it much. Then we decided to go to the cinema. The film being shown... (no multiplex cinemas in those days) ... was, wait for it... The Sound of Music! In English, with Slovenian? subtitles. I hadn't realised the film had one or two jokes in it. But because we were the only ones who could understand the dialogue, the six of us sitting at the back of the cinema would laugh first, and then a few seconds later (once they had read the subtitles) the rest of the audience would laugh. It was the most surreal experience. Unfortunately, by this time, it was my turn to host the tummy bug (or maybe it was the goulash?) and my viewing experience was interrupted by a number of hurried exits to the loo.

All in all, the six of us just couldn't wait to get out of Yugoslavia and in the evening we caught the overnight train to Venice. (We always travelled overnight as it meant we didn't have to find, or pay for, somewhere to sleep or camp.) The train, however, was totally crowded, with quite a few armed soldiers on board, and we had to crouch down in the corridor between carriages. Not a very comfortable night.

But at 9 am the following morning we emerged from the Stazione Ferroviaria Santa Lucia (i.e. the station - but it sounds better in Italian) and looked out on the Grand Canal. It was like heaven. I remember having a cup of tea (something I never drank in those days) and some toast. That was when I decided this was the most wonderful place on earth. I promised myself that I would be back.

It was another 29 years before I returned but, to my own amazement, I felt the very same feelings on my return.

Being physical beings, we all need special places - usually places that hold particular personal memories. For me, Venice is such a place, though not for the memories, more for its unique faded elegance and beauty. There is such a visual integrity about the place, perhaps simply a factor of age - but (once you have left the ugly modernism of the Piazalle Roma) there is very little in the city that looks out of place.

I'll be back...

I feel the earth move...

I blame global warming!

A few nights ago I was wakened about 3am by the sound of a bird singing outside the window. They are so confused these days. They think it is Spring already. Maybe I should sell our radio-alarm on eBay because we don't need it any more - what with the birds singing while it is still dark and.... the diggers and earth-movers next door causing the whole house to vibrate from about 8.30am every morning!

The area next to our garden is being cleared for the building of new houses. Plans for the construction were agreed some time ago but the work only began in earnest a week ago. In fact it only took them a day to convert what had been the grounds of a children's home into something that resembled the Somme in 1916. Actually it is scary how quickly these big machines can transform the landscape. Then again, it is scary how easily (and carelessly) we human beings in general are able to shape the environment to suit us rather than allow it to shape us and our behaviour.

Show me the way to the Armadillo...

I had a meeting today in the SECC in Glasgow, which will be the venue for Nexus, later this year.

My particular reponsibility is to organise the Saturday evening worship event which will take place in the Clyde Auditorium (pictured here) known locally (and much more graphically) as 'The Armadillo.'

You'll be hearing much more about it in later posts - that is, once I have something to say!

For the moment, I am in the rather worrying situation of having very few of the plans, and people, fully confirmed. But there is plenty of time....

Isn't there?...

I am happy to say that the rest of the planning team are much further on than me and that the whole event is shaping up to be a really exciting and dynamic three days.

One thing I have really enjoyed about working with anything to do with our 'Church without Walls' process is that the meetings have always been lively, creative, energising.... and enjoyable and that is not something that can often be said about meeting associated with church business!

Light in the cathedral

The sun was shining and the sky was blue over Edinburgh today as I undertook to show Nancy our capital city.

Having had a whole week of training in how to operate a video camera, Nancy herself was not slow to gather some footage of her own. It may take her some time to edit the diverse clips she must have captured including the long slow pans across the Edinburgh skyline from the esplanade of the Castle and the bumpy action shots from inside the car as we drove along some of Edinburgh's cobbled streets.

What impressed Nancy most was the age of so many of the buildings, especially the churches. Of course, one thing Scotland has plenty of is its past... though sometimes I'm not so sure about its future! Especially when it comes to the church.

One place we visited was St. Giles Cathedral in the Royal Mile.
(As the Church's own website says: "There is record of a parish church in Edinburgh by the year 854, served by a vicar from a monastic house, probably in England. It is possible that the first church, a modest affair, was in use for several centuries before it was formally dedicated by the bishop of St Andrews on 6 October 1243. The parish church of Edinburgh was subsequently reconsecrated and named in honour of the patron saint of the town, St Giles, whose feast day is celebrated on 1 September.")

There is within the cathedral a pleasing balance between the old and the new. While we were there the organist was giving an organ recital, which just added to the atmosphere - more "music coming from the chapel" but what caught my eye was the way in which the light, filtering through the stained glass, fell on the backs of some of the chairs. I could not resist taking a photograph of it. Pity the photograph didn't manage to capture the organ playing too. But, then, maybe Nancy will have it on video?

No entry

Well, Wilson didn't get his visa. :-(

We have yet to hear the official reason but it is very sad none the less.

As I have said before it is incredibly difficult for a single, male Kenyan to be allowed entry into the UK.

I should point out that Wilson is not in this picture. This is a group of young guys at Muguga that I played 'football' with. As you can see from the picture, they were a lively and happy bunch. The ball was home-made from a number of supermarket carrier bags, all layered on top of each other and held together by rubber bands. It makes for a surprisingly bouncy ball. However, I don't think FIFA are ready to endorse it as an official match ball.

Drive by argument

Perhaps I should have come clean and owned up to my particular interest in the fortunes of "Drive by Argument." It has something to do with the fact that one of the members of the band is the boyfriend of one of my daughters. Not that this has influenced me in any way, of course. :-)

All that aside, they are definitely worth a listen.

The Sega Method

I'm also looking forward to the release of the single "The Sega Method" by Drive by Argument.

Check it out on their myspace website.

Amazing Grace

I'm looking forward to the release of this film. I only hope that the film-makers manage to do justice to the story which by any standards is an 'amazing' one.

Here's what some of the advance publicity has to say about it:

"The film is based on the life of antislavery pioneer William Wilberforce. The film's release also coincides with the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade.Amazing Grace stars Ioan Gruffudd (Black Hawk Down), Albert Finney (Erin Brockovich), Michael Gambon (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), Rufus Sewell (Legend of Zorro), and introduces Youssou N'Dour. Gruffudd plays Wilberforce, who, as a Member of Parliament, navigated the world of 18th Century backroom politics to end the slave trade in the British Empire. In 1785 Wilberforce underwent a spiritual encounter which he described as a conversion experience. He resolved to commit his future life and work wholly in the service of God, and one of the people he received advice from was John Newton, a leading evangelical Anglican clergyman played in the film by Albert Finney. Youssou N'Dour plays Olaudah Equiano. Born in Africa and sent as a slave to the Colonies, Equiano bought his freedom and made his home in London, where he wrote a best-selling account of his life and became a leading figure in the fight to end the slavery of his fellow countrymen."

The music coming from the chapel

Recently I was given a gift of one of Paulo Coelho's books-"Like the Flowing River." It is a series of thoughts and reflections, short pieces written between 1998 and 2005. I have enjoyed many of Coelho's novels and was looking forward to dipping into this. I have not been disappointed.

His style is simple but poetic but, much more importantly, his insights are often profound.

One of the pieces entitled "The music coming from the chapel" describes an incident when Coelho come across a hermitage in the middle of a wood near Azereix in southern France. As he enters the usually-closed building he finds a young woman playing guitar and singing. He describes it as "an unforgettable moment in my life, the kind of awareness we often only have once the magic moment has passed." In fact for him it becomes a moment of revelation and deeply-felt worship.

When I read this particular story it reminded me of a very similar feeling which I had on one of my trips to Venice. I cannot remember whether it was in 2003 or 2004. I was with my youngest daughter, Heather, and we were indulging ourselves in a kind of photographic feast, shooting off dozens of rolls of film. One of the places I wanted to visit was the Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Miracoli (The Church of the Miracles.) It is a beautiful little marble jewel of a church, built between 1481 and 1489. Unlike St. Mark's and some of the other major tourist attractions it is never swamped by boatloads of day-trippers, partly because it is almost hidden away in a residential part of the Canareggio.

We paid the small entry fee and stepped inside this little marble wonder.

I think there were only a couple of other people inside the building at the time, apart from the person at the entrance desk. There was a hushed and reverent silence.

I was walking slowly up the steep stairs towards the high altar when suddenly this magnificent tenor voice burst out in song: I think it may have been a Monteverdi psalm. I turned round to see the source of this 'music from the chapel' and there stood the slightly bulky figure of a man with a magnificently bushy beard. When he came to the end of the psalm he simply turned and walked out of the building again. I felt exactly the same feelings as Coelho describes in his essay "a state of worship and ecstasy, and gratitude for being alive." Just a fleeting moment, yet it felt timeless. Music has often that had effect on me but in that particular place at that particular time, the effect was almost overwhelming. My own little personal 'miracle,' a sign to me of the spiritual world in the midst of this world.

A short while afterwards when Heather and I left the church we saw the man again, talking to someone else. As we walked past I was surprised to hear him speaking in English and I could not help overhearing him as he told his listener that he was the conductor of a choir from England and he was in the process of organising a tour. He was looking for venues where they might perform. I don't know who he was, or what choir he was talking about, all I know is that in that particular moment, and in that special place, his voice touched something deep inside of me. Coelho has expressed that moment perfectly: "In the simplicity of that small chapel.... in the morning light that filled everything, I understood once again that the greatness of God always reveals itself in the simple things."

Trees in the mist

On the way home from Bo'ness I stopped for a few seconds to take a quick snap of Linlithgow Palace* in the morning mist and rain.
It really was a quick stop!
I had overtaken a tractor at the top of the hill and managed to take the phtoograph and jump back into my car and pull away before the tractor caught up with me.
I must have looked like a real tourist!

* birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots

Getting there...

So here is Nancy beginning the course at World Without Walls. (We still haven't had any snow so I got her to Bo'ness without any problem at all this morning- apart from not being able to lean back in my seat.)
No word yet as to whether Wilson will be able to get his visa or not. He has been told that he will get a decision tomorrow. So keep praying and hoping.
I am hoping to be able to sleep a little tonight. Without going into the messy and unpleasant details I am expecting the doctor's knife will have been more effective than the antibiotics.

Adverse weather conditions

Sorry to go on again about the weather theme, but which century are we living in?

I couldn't believe this section of the leader in yesterday's "Times." [Then again, I don't often buy the Times] But are they seriously saying that a couple of inches of snow managed to prevent the leading article from being written? No, wait a minute, that is exactly what they are saying: "We apologise that this leading article could not be written due to adverse weather conditions." [that's in case you can't read the rather faint scanned picture]

Does this mean that leader writers of The Times don't have computers and email etc.? Maybe they still write everything out long-hand and send it to the typesetters to be set up? Hmmm...

No such excuses from me! Well, for a start we still haven't had any of the snow. But a few inches of the white stuff is hardly going to affect this publication. What has almost prevented me from writing just now, however, is "adverse health conditions." A large cyst on my back has become infected and is giving me a lot of pain. I can't find a comfortable way to sit or lie down, and sleep has been in short supply the last few nights. I'm just hoping the antibiotics begin to take effect soon.

But enough complaining from me! I have some good news at last on the Kenyan-partnership front. Nancy arrived from Kiambaa this morning. Too late to join us at church but in time to meet a few of the congregation who were still having tea or coffee. Tomorrow she begins the World Without Walls training course- provided I get her to Bo'ness in time. Now there's something that "adverse weather conditions" might manage to prevent. Let's hope not.

Half a loaf...

I suppose administration and bureaucracy are necessary - but sometimes they can be very frustrating.

You may remember we have been trying to organise a visit to Scotland by two of our friends from Kiambaa Church (our partners in Kenya.)

[The photograph shows some of the young people of Kiambaa church just before we left in 2005]

In the last few days and weeks there have been many messages (telephone and text) flying across the miles between us and today there was some good news. At last. One of our guests, Nancy, has been granted a travel visa and thanks to the very helpful people at Key Travel, I have just managed to book a flight for Nancy for tomorrow night and she should be with us by Sunday morning which will enable her to begin the World Without Walls Training Course in Bo'ness on Monday morning. Unfortunately, Wilson has been asked to go back to the British High Commission on Monday morning and has not yet been granted a visa. At this stage we have no idea whether he will be successful or not. It is all very frustrating.

Of course, as I probably mentioned in a previous post, if Wilson was married, had lots of money and lived in the city he probably would have had few problems in getting a visa, but clearly the authorities consider that there is a risk that he will choose not to return home and somehow just disappear in this country. It is all very frustrating.

However, I suppose half a loaf is better than no bread... and if we keep on hoping and praying maybe Wilson too can have the privilege of leaving the warmth of equatorial Kenya to come to the sub-zero temperatures of central Scotland.

On that point, I have been getting quite irritated (once more) at all the fuss in the TV news about the weather in England. Honestly....a couple of inches of snow and you'd think the world had come to an end! For goodness sake... it is February. It is winter time. Sometimes in winter it snows in this country! And sometimes (for reasons that didn't seem to apply when I was young) that means schools are closed... oh, and traffic has to move more slowly. So what? There are other more important things happening in the world. Learn to live with it.

Get set... go

The last pantomime picture - for a while anyway. This is more or less the full cast just before 'curtain up' on Saturday night.

Of course, if you were at the panto you'll know that we had no curtain. It meant that our stage crew (Graeme & Derek) had to be very quick, very efficient and very quiet at scene changes. I have to say they managed to be all three and did a superb job and, apart from one little glitch on the Friday night, it went incredibly smoothly.

Not like a performance I attended last year at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. A special treat for my birthday - to go the opera. I know it was a great sacrifice for my wife to take me there because she can't stand opera. But I love it. Now, any of you who are familiar with Glasgow will know that we have a perfectly good opera house - the Theatre Royal. But this was in the concert hall. A large stage, certainly, but no curtains and no facilities for flying scenery quickly offstage. Now, you might think this would be a good time to go for a minimalist approach to the set: let the audience use their imaginations and allow the music to set the scene.

But, no. It was a pretty traditional approach to Rigoletto by The Chisinau National Opera in association with the Ukrainian National Opera. The trouble was it took the stage crew about 25 minutes between acts to disassemble one set and then build the next. It could have been very boring - and almost was - except that I kept hearing the sound of electric screwdrivers buzzing away in the darkness, accompanied by cursing and swearing from the stagehands who clearly weren't sure how everything was supposed to fit together. Admittedly it must have been a bit like building a 3-D jigsaw puzzle in the dark. Quite bizarre.

However, not the most bizarre feature of the show.

The award for that has to go to the moment when a fully-grown golden eagle was brought onto the stage. There seemed to me to be absolutely no dramatic, musical or logical reason for this, though in the publicity for the opera it was being hailed as a particular attraction, along with the fact that there would be some nudity involved in the production.

Maybe I was just too near the back of the concert hall to appreciate either. All I can say is I'm glad the singing was quite good.

All's well that ends well...

A glimpse of the two "baddies" (Haudit and Dropit) from 'Jack and the Beans Talk.'
Of course, they turned out alright in the end.
So did the panto as a whole. Everybody had great fun and, what's more, so far it has raised over £1100 for charity.
We plan to share the proceeds among the Children's Hospice Association Scotland, World Vision, Kiambaa Church (our partner church in Kenya) and Glory Christian Fellowship Orphanage in Kenya (another project we regularly support.)

We are hoping to further strengthen our links with Kiambaa very soon, as long as the visa authorities in Nairobi are on our side. We have invited two of our friends from Kiambaa (Wilson & Nancy) to come over to Scotland and take part in the World Without Walls training course. We tried this last year but Wilson and Nancy were refused travel visas. We are hoping and praying that this time they will be successful.

Good news and bad news

Well, what do you want to hear first: the good news? or the bad news?

The good news was that the pantomime was a great success. A sell-out both nights and two lively, up-for-it, audiences (although I have to say that Friday night's audience was a little bit quicker at getting the jokes! On Saturday the cast had to work a bit harder to get the gags across.)

Talking of the cast... that was the bad news.

My daughter, Ailsa, was due to play the lead role of Jack - a part with quite a lot of lines to learn including a one and a half-page monologue at the start. Being the central character in the story it was a rather important role.

Unfortunately, in the early hours of Thursday morning Ailsa took ill. So ill that she had to be taken by ambulance to hospital. I am happy to say that she is now making an excellent recovery. However... we were left on Thursday with a real dilemma as there was no understudy for the part. (OK - bad planning, I know...)

We felt desperately sorry for Ailsa who had put so much work and practice into preparing for the show, not just in the lead role but also as choreographer and even helping to direct a couple of rehearsals. But since she couldn't even stand up on Thursday, treading the boards on Friday was just out of the question.

So we looked at the various alternative options:

Cancel. Hard to do when we had sold nearly 500 tickets.

Postpone. But for how long? And the set had already been built and was in place. Could we get everybody together again for some future date...?

What if I, or my wife, Dawn, played the part? (Em...No - don't think so...)

ENTER our youngest daughter, Heather!

She volunteered to have a go, even though she had spent the previous week complaining that she didn't even like panto and hadn't even read the script, never mind attend a rehearsal.

And so, with just one day to learn the 40-page script and no time to get the cast together for a full rehearsal, Heather took on the challenge. Now, no doubt I am biased, but I thought she was brilliant. I have no idea how she managed to learn the part in less than 24 hours and then carry it off with such confidence. It was fantastic.

Actually, everyone who took part did a brilliant job, including many who had never acted in their lives before.

Even the beanstalk rose majestically and magically to its full 4.5 metres... although half an hour before the show opened I spotted some fraying on the pulling wire and we had to get the ladder out and fit a second wire just in case.

Of course there were some minor mistakes (mainly technical... and mainly my own responsibility) but all in all it was a fantastic effort from everyone concerned.

Oh, and the picture, by the way, is of the "giant's" mask - magnificently crafted by Rhoda Baxter.

Let me quote from the script:

Jack Mum, that was only some of it! There’s a whole load of treasure up there. But there is something really scary up there as well. That’s why I ran. …..It was huge with bulging staring eyes, and spiky hair, and it had hair all over it’s face like a straggly beard, I bet it had a big fat belly and flat feet too.

Mum You mean just like the minister!

Jack Just like him, but huger!

Maybe you can see the resemblance yourself?

Bridges old and new

Still thinking about bridges. This one is the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. (Doesn't that sound so much more romantic than 'old bridge'?) The photograph was taken in 2005. It's an amazing bridge which for centuries has been so much more than a way of getting across the river. It's a meeting-place, a market and, by the looks of this photograph, a means of defying gravity.

Yesterday I received a text from a friend who, to celebrate a significant birthday, is enjoying a short break in this wonderful city.

(I was just a teensy weensy bit jealous. I still prefer Venice to Florence but all the same it is a great place especially if you love Renaissance art. I'd love to go back some day.)

Taking short breaks, especially if they involve flying, has become a very controversial thing of late- apparently very damaging to the environment and contributing to global warming. (Of course this is something that wealthy people were always able to do. It's just a problem now because it has become affordable to so many more people.)

I guess we will all have to think very carefully about how much we travel in future. However, there are some very positive benefits to be gained in visiting 'foreign' lands... and it has a lot to do with bridges. When you have been to a so-called 'foreign' country, observed its culture, eaten its special foods and, most of all, met its people- it is so much harder to think of them as enemies. You are less inclined to fear or to fight those whom you have come to know as friends. In other words travel builds bridges and that can only be a good thing.

Over the Clyde

You know, one of the unexpected delights about starting this 'blogging' business is coming across other interesting blogs.

Thanks to one blog I visited (PRESENT) I have been introduced to a band I'd never heard of before (Over the Rhine.)

I have been enjoying listening to them (because they allow you to download a number of their tracks for free.)

The bridge here is not over the Rhine but over the Clyde. I had this great idea a while back that I would photograph ALL the bridges over the Clyde and then write a book telling the history of each bridge. That was until I realised just how many bridges there are and how hard it might be to research all of their stories. Not only that, nobody seems too sure exactly where the River Clyde really starts. It doesn't get called the Clyde until round about Abington but this is just where a number of tributaries come together.

Anyway, although I did manage to photograph a number of the bridges, I gave up on the idea of the Photo Book with stories of them all. Maybe one day...

... after I've written my first novel...

... and screenplay...

.... and collections of poems...

that is... almost certainly never.

What I do have to do before Sunday (really before Friday) is write two sermons.

Now, I wonder if I could get away with a slide show of pictures of bridges...

It'll be alright on the night...

Well, I guess that's it!

Final rehearsal yesterday went reasonably well. Just the opening night to look forward to now. Inevitably there were one or two 'snags' yesterday (that's what a dress rehearsal is for after all) but at least we didn't need a major re-write of the script or a re-think about my beanstalk 'engineering.'

It's been a fantastic individual and team effort from everyone involved and considering how few rehearsals we've actually had I am amazed at how it has all come together.

Now... if they can all just keep up the momentum for the two nights of the performances...

This is not a rehearsal...

A cheeky smile from one of the cast (Amelia- not in costume, by the way) during last week's Panto rehearsal. Tomorrow is the final "dress rehearsal" - the last chance to iron out any problems and get things right for the opening night. Bit scary really as we haven't had nearly enough of these things called rehearsals.

But at least we've had more of them for the panto than you get in real life.
In life there are no rehearsals. The curtain is up from the moment we are born and we are on stage, ad-libbing all the way. No wonder we get our lines wrong so often and sometimes even lose the plot!
Talking of ad-libbing. I went to a Celtic Connections concert during the week - the lovely Kate Rusby and her very talented musical friends, including Roddy Woomble. It was a great gig, though at one point John McCusker was taking some time trying to re-tune his bouzouki. (Well it would take you a lot of time to do it too!) He uttered a heartfelt plea for someone else in the band to "keep talking" whereupon the accordion player (whose name I have forgotten for the moment) stepped forward and gave the Royal Concert Hall audience.... a recipe! All the ingredients, all the instructions... everything except an actual demonstration. He managed to while away a good four minutes. I think he may have a future as a TV Chef if the accordion-playing doesn't work out.
However, I better not blether here any more or I will be "ad-libbing all the way" during the sermon tomorrow morning.

[*don't forget you can click on any of the photographs on this blog to get a full-size version]

Sometimes the sun sets too quickly

Tomorrow I have the sad, but privileged, task of conducting the funeral of a young man just 18 years old.

Graeme died of Duchenes Muscular Dystrophy, though his death was rather sudden and unexpected.

I don't yet know what I am going to say at the service but I think I may use the words of song I wrote many years ago when a friend of mine died at the age of 28. He was always know only by his initials and that's why the title of this song is simply "A.P"

A.P.

He had so much to give,
So much love to give
So much life to live
And a heart full of love.

We saw him growing old,
A young man growing old,
And now the story’s told
Before it had begun.

We hadn’t even time to say goodbye.
He left us, Oh so quickly,
Left us asking why.
And the world kept turning
Like it hadn’t even noticed
He was gone.

Now time keeps moving on
And we’re all moving on,
Living and loving on,
No longer asking why

But we will not forget,
No we can not forget
His love is with us yet
‘cause some things never die.

We hadn’t even time to say goodbye.
He left us, Oh so quickly,
Left us asking why.
And the world kept turning
Like it hadn’t even noticed
He was gone.

(c) Iain D. Cunningham

The Sleeping Warrior

This morning I took my youngest daughter back to her University accommodation in Ayr.

It's a place I always enjoy visiting, although on this occasion I only stayed long enough to help her carry some of the boxes and other bits and pieces upstairs to the flat.

Not long after we were married, my wife and I spent two very happy years in Ayr where I worked as Assistant Minister at Ayr: Castlehill Church. So it has always been a special sort of place- especially the view out across the Firth of Clyde to the Isle of Arran.

On my return journey today as I passed Prestwick Airport the view across to Arran was particularly dramatic with the island's snow-capped peaks scraping the clouds. I couldn't resist stopping the car to take a photograph.

I'm rather embarrassed to admit, however, that even though I have seen Arran from just about every angle (and it looks fantastic from the Kintyre peninsula too) I have never actually set foot on this particular island, where our current First Minister, Jack McConnell grew up on a sheep farm.

This is something that I really must do something about- not Jack McConnell's upbringing... but my failure to visit Arran. One of these days...

By the way, for those who don't know "The Sleeping Warrior" refers to the outline of the mountain ridge that forms the spine of the island and is supposed to look like... well, a sleeping warrior...

Talking of which, it is time I went to bed...

O, no you don't....

We had a fun rehearsal for the panto yesterday. At last it all seems to be coming together.
Here some of the singers get a chance to see the action for the first time and hopefully begin to realise how the songs they've been learning fit in with the story. They seemed to be having a good time anyway.
On Saturday, in spite of my fear of heights, I was up a ladder about 15 feet from the floor (I think that's about 4.5 metres in new money) putting into effect my little 'engineering' solution to the growing of a beanstalk. We won't know if it works until Sunday's dress rehearsal. (Not that I'm a last minute person or anything like that...)

Who put the lights out?

Yes, the storms that hit parts of England yesterday were severe, and it is a real tragedy that a number of people lost their lives suddenly and unexpectedly. My thoughts and prayers go out to those affected in such extreme ways.
The loss of lives through stormy weather is relatively rare in this part of the world and, therefore, I appreciate, newsworthy.
But what I found hard to take watching today's lunchtime news on TV was how about 10 minutes of the 30 minute bulletin was devoted to non-stories about people being without electricity "for a whole 24 hours!"
[When Carluke was without any gas supplies for almost a full week last year after a contractor accidentally blew up the gas mains, it scarcely merited a mention even in local news.]

What really annoyed me was the whingeing (encouraged by leading questions from reporters) that the power had not been restored after a whole 24 hours had passed. Don't they realise that power workers have to work in extremely dangerous and unpleasant conditions to repair broken power lines, and by its very nature a severe storm causes multiple problems that are not all going to be solved overnight? And, much more seriously, don't people realise that there are millions of folk around the world who have absolutely no access to electricity, or whose supply is at best intermittent? Or what about the effects of the Tsunami on the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in Asia?

I wish folk in this country would stop complaining about what, in the overall scheme of things, are pretty minor discomforts.

[Incidentally, the photograph was taken in Kenya in 2005, as a big storm was brewing up over the Masai Mara. Now there is one country where electricity supplies are pretty erratic and certainly not universally available.]

A not so elegant solution?

At a slightly lower cost than the Millennium Dome or the Scottish Parliament building (in fact at a total cost so far of £7.13) I think I may have come up with a solution to the 'engineering' problem I mentioned earlier in the week.

It remains to be seen, however, if it will actually work. I will keep you posted.

I enjoy problem-solving, whether it's fixing a computer problem, or just doing the crossword, or trying to make a 14foot cardboard whale (yes, I did that once, or rather twice, in two different ways-but it would take too long to tell you how or why.) I enjoy it because there is an answer to be found and there is great satisfaction to be gained in finding it.

Life itself, of course, is not so simple, and many of the issues and questions we wrestle with in our daily lives just do not have any easy answers. And sometimes no answer at all. I am often suspicious of those who claim that they do. I suspect they either do not understand the problem or they have never had to try out their proposed solution in real life.

Then again, who said life should be problem-free? Or that every question must have an answer?

*Excerpt from "Reason, Truth and God By Renford Bambrough"

Knock down walls and build bridges instead

Now here's a piece of engineering that seriously impresses me!
It's the world famous Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
(Someone with a name like that had to turn out to be pretty special, don't you think?)
And he was only 24 years old when he designed it!
I visited the bridge in August last year and I just thought it quite amazing.

I've always had a bit of a fascination with bridges, in spite of my fear of heights- or maybe because of it?
Even the simplest and roughest of bridges seems to me to be a testament to the human spirit, the unwillingness to allow an obstacle to get in the way and hinder progress.
While most (if not all) other animals adapt to fit their environment, we human beings do our best to make the environment fit us. It's an instinct and talent that may well be our undoing, of course, if we succeed only in destroying the environment. We need to temper our ambition with a considerable amount of humility and learn to live in harmony with the planet.
That said, I still get a thrill out of seeing a magnificent example like this of technological bravery and skill.
There's another reason I like bridges. They seem to me to symbolise the task that Christians ought to be performing in the world. I say ought to, not with any presumption that we actually manage to do it very often. In fact, more often than not we only succeed in building walls that divide rather than bridges that bring together. But it is our task all the same: to knock down dividing walls and build connecting bridges.
It's no wonder that Brunel's design for spanning the Avon Gorge won the competition. It would have won it on looks alone, but the real beauty of it is what you don't see- the construction of the abutments that sustain the main piers. The secret of any strong bridge of course lies in the stability, strength and safety of the parts that bear the load.
It's true of relationships too. You have to be quite secure in yourself to reach out to others and build bridges. Wall building, on the other hand, is almost always a sign of insecurity. Just think of the "security fence" dividing Israel/Palestine just now for example.

How do they do that...?

Another perspective on the London Eye.

I guess this must be something like the view that a fly gets sitting on the inside rim of a bicycle wheel. (Remember, though, you only get ground, or near ground level, shots from me. Unless I happen to be in an aeroplane.)

Actually, I found the engineering feat of the London Eye quite impressive. But then, that kind of thing always impresses me. (Remember also that I was brought up with Meccano!)

I could sit for hours marvelling at a bridge or a skyscraper or The Falkirk Wheel. Feats of clever engineering always provoke a bit of a "wow" response from me, especially if they are on a very large scale.... or on a very small scale.

When I was in Secondary School I used to while away my time in the Latin Class dismantling my mechanical watch. (The Casio digital watch had yet to appear on the scene.) On these occasions the only thing more marvellous than the intricate mechanism of my watch was the fact that the Latin teacher never once asked me why I was taking the thing to bits instead of listening to her - even though I sat at the desk immediately in front of her. It has always formed part of my belief in miracles that I actually passed my Higher Latin exam - even getting a "B" - when I paid so little attention in the class.

Ah, the world is full of wonders!

The so-called "argument from design" may be discredited (and rightly so, for what right have we to expect that we could ever 'prove the existence of God' by any argument) but the intricacies and complexities, balanced with the amazing simplicity, that go to make up the known universe produce an even bigger "wow" response from me, and somehow make me feel justified in holding my belief in God. Real worship is always just a big "wow!"

These rambling reflections were prompted by the fact that I am puzzling over an engineering question myself. Just a couple of weeks to go to dress rehearsal and I haven't quite worked out yet how our giant beanstalk is going to grow up to the sky. Wish I had a fraction of the cash that was spent on the Holyrood Parliament building or the Millenium Dome! But I'm afraid this is going to be another no-budget production. (I'll let you know if I come up with solution... but only if it has worked.)

Nostalgia Trip by Helicopter

Just to prove that I haven't actually grown up here's a picture of one of the Christmas presents I received this year in my stocking - a Meccano kit helicopter.

As you can see, although it must be well over 40 years since I last had a Meccano set, I haven't lost the knack of Meccano building! It's like swimming, or riding a bike - except you don't get wet and it doesn't tire you out.

I wonder how many of these kits were bought this Christmas for real children and how many were bought as nostalgia tickets for alleged adults like myself?

Growing up

The picture is of the youngest participant at this year's Fiddle Force Winter School. Robyn was just a little over two weeks old when her Mum and Dad brought her down to Wiston.

Seeing her reminded me of how quickly time flies past - especially today, as Heather, the youngest of our children is now officially no longer a child. It seems like only yesterday since our 'baby' was born.... and now she's eighteen!

Can't write much at the moment as I am about to go out with the family for a celebration 18th Birthday meal!!

Just one comment, though.

At a meeting today in Edinburgh, which I was chairing, I happened to make a particular suggestion to the committee. (It was the Nomination Committee of the Church of Scotland - Don't ask what it does, or how it does it... it would take too long to explain.) One member of the committee remarked: "That would be the grown-up thing to do."

I wasn't sure whether to take it as a compliment or not but replied that it was probably the first time in my life that anybody had ever described any of my suggestions as "grown up" or had ever accused me of being grown up.

Ah, well, I guess we all have to grow up one day. Maybe this was my day?

Lovely Lanarkshire

The only downside to being at Wiston Lodge over the weekend, was that I wasn't able to get to the 'Lanarkshire Derby' Scottish Cup tie between Motherwell and Airdrie. The compensation for that, however, was the chance to take in some of the gentle beauty of this part of South Lanarkshire. While I was out snapping a few landscapes I tried to listen in to the football on the radio of my mini-disc player. Unfortunately the signal wasn't very good and from time to time disappeared completely. For the most part I coped with it alright, especially when I heard that Richie Foran had scored to put us into the lead. That was still the position for most of the second half as Airdrie threw everything at us to get an equaliser, and coming very close on several occasions. And then...with less than a minute to go... I lost the signal completely! It was some time later before I got confirmation that The 'Well had scraped through to the next round.

And now... the reward is a game against my old team of Greenock Morton. Having been born in the town of Port Glasgow next door to Greenock, Morton were the team I supported as a child, until we moved to Lanarkshire when I was 11. I always like to hear how they are getting on, especially as a local Carluke boy, Stewart Greacan (nephew of Tommy Gemmill) plays in central defence for the Cappielow side. This time, however, I will be hoping Morton have a bad day! Unfortunately, if it is played on the Saturday this is yet another game I am likely to miss as it will coincide with the world premiere of our church panto (more of which at a later date.)

Fiddle Force

Having had a pretty busy few days after 2007 began, with a couple of funerals and meetings in Edinburgh etc., I was really pleased to get the chance to take part in Fiddle Force Winter School 2007 at Wiston Lodge over the weekend.
Not much sleep on the Friday or Saturday night but lots of fiddle playing, some new tunes and some new friends.
Tutors this year were same as last year, the ever-entertaining Alasdair White and the always-delightful Patsy Reid.
You can see Alasdair in action on YouTube. (Actually he is pretty subdued in this clip compared to real life.)
When I first went to the Fiddle Force Winter School several years ago no one knew that I was a minister. I preferred it that way because it meant people got to know me as a person, without any preconceived ideas (or prejudices.) Now most folk have gotten over the shock of discovering what I do 'for a living' and in fact over the weekend I got involved in quite a few very interesting conversations and discussions on spiritual issues. I think it's a real pity when labels (and prejudices) get in the way of real dialogue - no matter what the context. If we just get to know (and trust) each other as people first of all, it's amazing what we can learn from each other.

New Year: same old stories?

Well, it's a New Year, but already it's hard to see what is new about it.
Back to work already with a number of funerals this week and a meeting in Edinburgh. AND... my team were beaten again by Rangers. (Unjustly, of course, since Motherwell played the better football by far and it didn't look like a penalty to me... etc. etc.)
And it is raining...
New Year: same old stories?

However, I have managed, at the last minute, to book up for the annual Fiddle Force Winter School at Wiston Lodge this weekend and am looking forward to getting the fiddle warmed up with a couple of days of non-stop playing. (Hardly played much at all this year due to a variety of circumstances.)

Of course, in one sense there is nothing "new" about any new year. All dates are just arbitrary moments in time. In fact they just exist to remind us that time never stands still and that we are always getting older... But (and I really do believe this) every moment is new and full of possibility. Of course, you have to learn to look, or the only thing that you see is what you've seen before.


letter written by Fra Giovanni, 1513

I am your friend
and my love for you goes deep.
There is nothing I can give you
which you do not have,
but there is much,
very much, that,
while I cannot give it,
you can take.

No heaven can come to us
unless our hearts find rest in today.
Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future
which is not hidden
in this present little instant.
Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow.
Behind it, yet within our reach is joy.
There is radiance and glory in the darkness
could we but see —
and to see we have only to look.
I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver,
but we, judging its gifts by the covering,
cast them away as ugly,
or heavy or hard.
Remove the covering
and you will find beneath it
a living splendour,
woven of love,
by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it,
grasp it,
touch the angel's hand that brings it to you.
Everything we call a trial,
a sorrow,
or a duty,
believe me,
that angel's hand is there,
the gift is there,
and the wonder of
an overshadowing presence.

Our joys, too,
be not content with them as joys.
They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose,
so full of beauty–beneath its covering–
that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven.

Courage, then, to claim it,
that is all.
But courage you have,
and the knowledge that we are
all pilgrims together,
wending through unknown country, home.

And so, at this time, I greet you.
Not quite as the world sends greetings,
but with profound esteem
and with the prayer
that for you now and forever,
the day breaks,
and the shadows flee away.

Stormy Weather

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Well 2006 stomped out with a bit of a temper! Gale force winds and driving rain. Nothing new for Scotland, of course, but it seemed to be pretty severe last night. (The picture was taken in the afternoon just as the storm was beginning to build up some steam.)

Maybe it was because I was actually trying to go somewhere. I was trying to take one of my daughters to Strathaven but Strathaven was doing an even better job than Carluke of keeping out foreigners. Just about every road into the town seemed to be blocked by a flood or a fallen tree. Why is it that the trees which are uprooted by storms nearly always seem to fall across a road? (no doubt there will be some scientific explanation.)

Eventually by making a long detour using tiny roads that only just made it onto my map we got through to Strathaven with a certain sense of triumph. Maybe I should apply for a job on the Pony Express (heroes in my boyhood)? Only problem is I don't ride a horse (would they let me use my car?) Worse still, riders had to weigh less than 125 lbs. No chance of that! Especially not at this time of year.

But, the best thing is that in spite of the storms and the obstacles we got through. Perhaps there's a message in that for the New Year that has just begun. Who knows what storms and obstacles lie ahead? A bit of determination and perseverance helps to keep you going - not to mention some very heroic roadworkers last night out clearing fallen trees with their bulldozers!Thanks, guys!

Whatever lies on the road ahead, may you find a safe way through.

God will make a way,
Where there seems to be no way
He works in ways we cannot see
He will make a way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely to His side
With love and strength for each new day
He will make a way,
He will make a way.

By a roadway in the wilderness,
He'll lead me
And rivers in the desert will I see
Heaven and earth will fade
But His Word will still remain
He will do something new today.

God will make a way,
Where there seems to be no way
He works in ways we cannot see
He will make a way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely to His side
With love and strength for each new day
He will make a way,
He will make a way.

Don Moen