Freedom

We have been hearing much in the news these past months about revolution and the freedom it has brought many people – freedom from oppression and control of movement and behaviour, even of political bias and indoctrination of thought and attitude.  But it appears that also in the western world there is a kind of ‘brain-washing’ of attitude and activities, be it more subtle and of course without the appalling physical abuse and torture for non-compliance.  Yet those in authority seek to impose their way of thinking on others.

I recently received an email from a friend and cousin that set me on this train of thought.  He commented that he had become aware of the fact that some Christian leaders don’t always have a deep conviction of what they preach and tell others about.  Often once they are retired, they feel free to express their doubts in the things that before they insisted were the right way.  It is difficult for those in a position of authority within the organised church who need to provide for families.  They need to think not only of their own lives but also of the consequences on others in their family if they are seen to ‘rock the boat’.   The pull of the financial security they currently enjoy can be hard to find a way around.  

I remember a humorous incident of someone in a position of authority within their Christian organisation, who every Good Friday insisted on eating fish for dinner. 

When he and his wife retired from their church responsibilities, their son noticed that the following Good Friday they had steak.  When he questioned them about it, his mother replied ‘Well, we are retired now!’

We may smile at such an attitude but I think it reveals a rather deeper but more disturbing truth – the fact that many feel they are restricted in their lives, both in the things they say and do and are in essence controlled in their thinking and beliefs.  Once this control is removed, there is a greater sense of freedom to think, say and do as they really feel and not how they are expected to be.

The American George Barna wrote a book called ‘Revolution’ where he investigates the fact that so many Christians of great spiritual depth are opting out of the organised style of church.  Their desire is to seek God at a deeper, more personal level without having the ‘thought police’ (as another Christian refers to the organised set-up) dictating what they should or shouldn’t question or change their minds about. 

On my journey, I have discovered that many things that I accepted without question as a teenager and young woman, I now look at differently.  Personal experiences and people I have met and situations I have had to deal with have, I hope, made me not quite so dogmatic but more tolerant.  After all God so loved the world that He gave us His Son … and that includes everyone, regardless of culture, geography, or teaching we may have received.  

What a tackle!

Everyone was enjoying the barbeque, chatting away with their friends.  Two of the group were young Spaniards who were visiting, hoping to improve their English.  There had been a lot of laughter and exchange of stories and experiences.

The conversation turned to the events of the weekend before and the activities of the young people, particularly the football match.  It had been quite eventful, apparently with a few fouls, one of the perpetrators being the young Spanish girl who was present.

By all accounts she had been quite tough in her tackles.  Every time anyone shouted to her to ‘tackle, tackle’, she went in with all her strength to gain the ball.  She was explaining that everyone was shouting to her.  The thing is that people were shouting ‘tackle, tackle’ but she misunderstood the word and in her mind she was thinking of the Spanish word ‘taco, taco’ which, apart from being a Mexican type of food actually means ‘heel’ (the part of a shoe). 

The result of course was that when they said ‘tackle’, she went in to attack with her heels, kicking the opponents.  No wonder there were so many shouts of ‘foul’!

In the Flesh

The young man was learning some computer skills that were new to him.  One of the ways that people are now taught new skills is by sitting in front of a computer and going through a tutorial online.

The first read through didn’t seem to make much sense, so he read it again.  He followed, as he thought, the instructions – at least as much as he understood what they were saying.  But to no avail.  It didn’t matter what he did, how he did it or how many times he did it, the result was wrong.  He obviously couldn’t grasp the online tutorial.

After a few attempts he had to go to a real life tutor who then sat with him, going through each step and explaining the process to him.

At last it worked!  Result!!

You can read many books or online instructions on just about any subject but often the actual experience is what helps us to really understand.  We learn not just by being told but also by being shown and by experience. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I love books and value the fact that we can learn much from reading.  But I think that in some cases the book along with a real life explanation from a person helps a great deal in understanding the written word.

           

The words ‘and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us’ come to mind. 

That way we have a clearer understanding of what God is really about.

The bus journey

Oh the joys of having a bus pass!  Today I took the bus and travelled to Wells to meet up with my friend Diane.  It makes a nice change from driving as you don’t need to concentrate so much on the roads and traffic but can enjoy the views.  The journey took about an hour and a quarter – much time to ponder and people watch.  The cattle were out in the fields and the sheep grazing on the hillside.  The fields were a lush green and the sun was shining, a pleasant change from yesterday's torrential downpours.  I noticed in some fields the farmers had already stacked the hay high and covered the haystacks with tarpaulin ready for the winter.  How they watch the seasons and prepare in advance!

The village of Somerton, the one time capital of ancient Wessex



We travelled through villages and country towns, farmland on either side for most of the journey – past Yeovil Marsh and Chilthorne Domer, through Ilchester, calling in at the villages of Kingsdon and Somerton.  Then on through Littleton (blink and you’ve missed it!), Compton Dundon and on to Street, Glastonbury, through Coxley and into Wells.  The bus was an Easy Access one and there were a couple of baby pushchairs and a wheeled walking aid for a person with walking difficulties.  I wondered how these people managed before there were Easy Access buses?  Their time outside of their homes must have been very limited.  Things most of us take for granted, like a bus journey, can be so difficult for many people.

A baby wagon that can carry a number of toddlers.



As we went through Street, I noticed whom I thought were probably two nursery assistants with a pull/push along wagon containing about 8 toddlers who were having a great time being taken out for a ‘walk’ (or rather a ride) in the sunshine.  It made me smile.

Glastonbury



Glastonbury - what a place of spiritual battles!  Right next to the Abbey was a shop called Man, Myth and Magik (spelt with a ‘k’).  Along the main street you could see other buildings with names like Cat and Cauldron, Minerva, The Avalon Club, Inner Beauty Salon, The Goddess and the Green Man and many others.  One that did make me smile was Burns the Bread Shop.  I thought it was rather an unfortunate surname for someone making and selling bread!  One very loud and worse-for-wear man and boy got on the bus, carrying a guitar, appearing to be a remnant from the hippie era.  I couldn’t help thinking that so many people live on the margins of society.  In Glastonbury there are so many people with a desire for something more than just food and drink, a desire for something spiritual and yet have not yet encountered Jesus.  Lord how do we reach them with your truth?  Questions, questions!

The coffee shop in Wells Cathedral



Diane and I had just over 3 hours in Wells before I got my bus back to Yeovil.  It’s so good to share and catch up with friends.  We went to the Cathedral coffee shop for coffee and then walked around for a while, stopped for lunch and then walked again through the town before it was time to go our separate ways.  The journey back was quiet – no toddlers in pushchairs, no loud hippies, just quiet pondering about our conversation and remembering the different people who today had made an impression one way or another.



Family Visits

I haven’t blogged for a couple of weeks as we have had people staying – two visits from different family members.  The first visit was at the beginning of last week for a few days and then my elder son, Martin, came at the weekend and stayed till yesterday.  Fortunately the weather was fine all the time they were here, only a little rain in between times but at least we were able to get out and about and not get wet.

 

Tommy, Raquel, me and Diego at Montacute House, taken by a very helpful lady who works in the grounds there.

Our first visitors were Argentinian cousins Tommy and Raquel Bell.  I had seen Tommy a few years ago when he visited his sister in Portsmouth but it was about 37 years since I had seen Raquel.  Diego was just a baby the last time either of them saw him.  That was before we returned to the UK to live.  So it was a time of much filling in the gaps and catching up.  They now live in England so hopefully it won’t be too long before we can meet again – and not just on Facebook!

Tommy, Diego and Raquel having a little rest during our long walk in the countryside park.

With Tom and Raquel we enjoyed an afternoon at Montacute House, a National Trust property about 3 miles outside of Yeovil.

Martin and Diego in the same countryside park.

We also visited Yeovil Countryside Park with both them and my son Martin.

Enjoying lunch in the country pub.  You might just be able to see the lake at the top centre of the photo.

During Martin’s visit we called in at a country pub for lunch.  It was a place we have often passed but never actually stopped at.  It was a very pleasant place and we were able to sit outside to eat and then walked down to a lake at the far end of the premises where we sat for a while enjoying the wildlife around us.

The sofabed is folded away and the room is now as before

Now the spare room is as it was before the visitors arrived and I’ve caught up with washing, ironing, shopping etc.  It all went too quickly but the lovely memories will stay!









White Van Man

We all know the reputation that the white van driver has.  At least those living in the UK will know.  For those not living in this country and not acquainted with the ‘white van man’, he (sorry fellas but it’s always a man!) is known as the person driving a (usually) white coloured van making deliveries and always apparently in a hurry and desperate to get to his next drop-off point.  He would seem not to know of the existence of the Highway Code and thinks that the rules are for everyone else but not him.

One white van, however made me smile.  The other day I was coming down the stairs in our house and looked out of the window to see parked across the road a white van.

Retired white van man!

I don’t know if the owner had in his working life been a ‘white van man’ or he was just trying to say that although he drove a white van, we shouldn’t prejudge him for that.  Anyway, it made me smile.