People of the Land

Continuing my account of my days in Latvia - travelling through the country it became obvious that the Latvians have a different attitude to house and land from those living in the west.  In the UK it seems the ownership of land brings with it a certain status and so many crave for a place in the country with some land.  In Latvia it was noticeable that each home had it’s own land.  Even those living in flats were allotted a strip of land that they cultivated for their own benefit.  They grew flowers (which they love) as well as fruit and vegetables.  Even in the bigger towns people had the opportunity to have their own piece of land.  Apart from that, they all have some fruit trees.

A view from the flat where I stayed.  It shows the various
greenhouses belonging to the different strips of land of the
people living in the flats.



Apart from the pieces of land that go with their flats (they have 2 flats), my friends also work a few acres of land that lie about 3 miles from their home.  As out there they have no connection to running water or electricity, work in daylight hours is a necessity but personal ‘hygiene needs’ are adequately catered for.  In the very large greenhouse they seem to grow everything from tomatoes to grapes, celery to melons and from a variety of peppers to pumpkins.  And you really can’t beat the taste of food straight from the garden that has not been forced or covered in chemicals.

Not quite ready for eating!



They are also in the process of building a larger barn to house the tractors and equipment for working on the land.  Outside of the greenhouse, there are fruit trees and other vegetables as well as a good amount of buckwheat.  And of course there is the necessary small forest that is on part of the land and is a good source of wood for their log fires. 



The nearly finished barn on the left of the greenhouse,
Beyond that is the small forest.
In the foreground are some fruit trees just becoming established.





Everyone seems to have also a separate wood shed with a good stock of wood to see them through the winter.  Much of the heating and cooking is done with wood.  Replenishing the forests is not a problem as there is more wood than the country needs to the point that they export some and many trees are mature in only about 25-30 years, unlike those like the oak that can take hundreds of years.

You can just make out the log shed among the trees
at the back of the photo

A few modern houses owned by the wealthy may have lawns but most people would not think of using valuable land to grow grass.  Land means an opportunity to grow food or keep animals, thus freeing up more of their resources for other needs like electricity and petrol that are expensive.  The people are not motivated by greed or have plans on a great scale but are content to have sufficient to feed their family and a little extra to sell at market.  It is refreshing to see people who are not materialistically minded and craving the latest gadget.  I hope they can keep that attitude as democracy and western influence creep in.



Travelling East

I set out from my home in Yeovil last Monday at 6.30am to arrive at Bristol airport parking facilities for 8am.  In fact I arrived about 10 minutes early so was relaxed knowing I had plenty of time before check-in.

Map of Bristol airpot.  The Silver Link car park for long stay (5 days or more) is at the top right of the map.



I checked the car in at the Silver Link car park and got the shuttle bus to the airport – about 3 minutes journey.  Then came the usual check-in, baggage drop and security checks to go through into the Duty Free and Departure Gates.  I had plenty of time for a coffee and snack.  My destination was Riga, the capital of Latvia, the middle country of the Baltic trio, Estonia to the north and Lithuania to the south.



Just under 3 hours after take off I was walking out to the arrivals lounge of Riga airport.  There they were, waiting.  I don’t know if the thoughts going through their minds was on a similar line to my own but I was wondering if these people that I had got to ‘know’ through internet websites matched up to the image that I had built in my mind.  I was immediately put at ease when the expression of ‘will we recognise her?’ changed to big smiles and hugs.  They were as welcoming and friendly as I had imagined them to be.  I was looking forward to the time we would spend together.

My first impression after leaving the airport building was that the car park seemed half empty compared to the one I had left in England.  Maybe it was just the time of day or the fact that it was the short-term car park.  I don’t know but I did wonder if there existed a similar situation in an English airport car park – probably not.  Anyway, it wasn’t important but from my experience, unusual.

We then had another two and a half hour journey (without counting stopping time for something to eat – very important!) eastwards to the town of Ergli.  There seemed to be so much countryside, a lot of fields dotted with forests. 

The main road out of Riga was a regular road but after some distance it became more of a ‘country’ road – that means impacted earth.  It reminded me of some of the roads I had experienced in the north of Argentina where I had lived for some years.  So for me there was a sort of pleasant familiarity about it.

By the time we arrived at the home of my hosts, Jo and Ian, I was already feeling very much at home and looking forward to the next few days.  … … …

to be continued in future blogs.

Money, money, money

There is much talk in the media about the threat of a double dip in the economy.  They say that house prices are on the up again but that more and more businesses are closing their doors, as they can’t keep going any more.

I received an email this week saying of the things that money can and can’t buy.  It reminded me of the Abba song ‘Money, money, money’.

You can buy a house but not a home

You can buy a clock but not time

You can buy a bed but not sleep 

You can buy a book but not knowledge

And I thought of the Beatles’ song that says, ‘You can buy me a diamond ring my friend, if it makes you feel alright, … … can’t buy me love … …’

When we stop to think, I’m sure there are many other examples that we could come up with.  It seems that money can’t buy the things that are more worthwhile in life – the things that are most important to a fulfilling and happy life.  So why is it that humanity is so concerned about making more and more of it – to the detriment of resources, people and the planet in the process?



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.



Doing great things for God

When we hear of someone that they have a very important position and are doing great things for God, what is it that goes through our minds?  Maybe we consider someone who has risen up the career ladder of the established church and now holds a senior position on some church council or decision-making group or has a title held only by an elite few within that organisation. How often have we travelled to a particular venue just to see and hear such a person?  It seems that doing great things for God has come to symbolise for many people (though I hasten to add not all by any means) some great gathering where many come to hear a speaker and go away amazed at their words.

Last week on the ITV News there were reports every day from the refugee camp at Dadaab in Kenya where thousands of starving people were slowly making their way to a place of relative safety.  Every day the reporter spoke to a certain Dr John Kiogora about the work he was doing.

During one of the reports, a small child was brought in who was unconscious through hunger and weakness.  If his mother had not arrived that day then the child would have died before nightfall.  He was immediately given a glucose injection and put on a drip feed.  Within 15 minutes, the child had opened his eyes and was responding to his surroundings.  On speaking to the doctor, the reporter noted that it was very hard work and long hours with little pay in monetary terms but the doctor smiled saying that to see a child recover from near death and bring hope to a family was something that could not be paid in money.

There are other doctors and helpers working alongside Dr Kiogora.  I don’t know what religion they are associated with, if any but I am sure that they are indeed doing great things for God.

The Motherhood of God

When I think of the motherhood of God, I am not thinking as a Roman Catholic who considers Mary to be the mother of God (as opposed to the earthly mother of Jesus, the human form of God).  That is another debate altogether.  Neither am I being feminist by trying to replace all male figures with a female equivalent.

I have been thinking about the mothering nature of God since I found a bird’s feather in the garden the other day.

The aerodynamic wing feather that is designed for lift and flight



You would think that all feathers are the same but they are not.  Some are especially designed for flight while others are for covering the main part of the body.  Over the past couple of months the mother bird has been using these feathers close to her body to protect her chicks and to keep them warm until they have fully grown feathers of their own.  Taking a closer look at the feather you realise that the part that goes next to the skin, and therefore the part that is used to protect and keep the chicks warm is fluffier.

The smaller, fluffier feather designed for warmth and protection

When Jesus overlooked Jerusalem and stood there grieving over the nation, he uses the same imagery: ‘How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.’  This I think is a wonderful picture of the mother nature of a loving and caring God for His children.



Lost in Translation

Anyone who has lived in a country where their native tongue is not the first language, will appreciate that many times things we want to say get lost in translation or we totally misunderstand what has been said to us.

I remember that on one occasion many years ago in Argentina, a lady who frequented the church community that my husband and I were responsible for, had attended a special ‘do’ and so had left some of her personal belongings in our home (that was situated behind the communal building) for safe keeping.  When everything had been cleared away and the helpers were going home, this particular lady came and asked me for her ‘cartera.’  As at that stage I was quite new to the language and didn’t have a great vocabulary, I tried to work it out in my head.  I knew that a ‘cartero’ was a postman and knowing that many words ending in ‘o’ were masculine while the feminine equivalent ended in ‘a’.

 So to my logic a ‘cartera’ must mean a post woman.  I insisted that I hadn’t seen a post woman that day at all.  In fact our delivery person was always male.  ‘No’ she kept saying ‘mi cartera’.  (All Argentinians can stop laughing now, please)  Finally, after he stopped laughing, my husband explained that she was looking for her handbag!

The following day she sent her son to collect something she had left.  He asked for ‘la pizzera’.  The only word that sounded anything like that that I knew was ‘lapicero’ that was pronounced the same (apart from the final vowel).  I knew that ‘lapicero’ was a sort of pencil, so I was searching for a pencil.  It turned out that what the boy came for was his mother’s tin for cooking pizzas.  With hindsight, the written word gives more of a clue to its meaning than the spoken word.

Old and new pizza tins

The child returned home with the pizza tin telling his mother that ‘she doesn’t understand anything!’  Even if you think you have quite a good knowledge of a language, living with people in a local situation can be so different.  I’m sure at the time people saw me with a permanent expression of confusion on my face.  Looking back I can smile over many incidents but at the time often felt acute embarrassment.  Patience and sign language go a long way! 

His Ways

Comments on my previous blog have caused me to be still pondering about church structure and how Jesus did things and I can’t help wondering how we have become so removed from the original idea of demonstrating the gospel by how we live and not by how we ‘do church’.  This morning I was catching up with some other blogs I follow and on one I have mentioned before (Martin Scott at http://3generations.eu/blog ) there was a comment on one of his posts by a lady called Liz.  Evangelism had been mentioned and she wrote that we should:

… … see our task as being one of getting on their page and building a bridge to an understanding of Jesus and how he answers their search for meaning.

She continued to explain this by recounting an experience a friend of hers had had.

I was recently with a friend who did an amazing job with this in his conversation with a couple of gay tarot readers. He told them about the ‘deeper’ message of the tarot images that many who use them have missed… and taking the cards, pointed out all the biblical archetype images, threading through them the message of Jesus. They were gobsmacked, told him they felt they probably had missed the really important message, and that they would be back. They returned to ask him to pray with them to connect with the Jesus they had overlooked all this time. He did. But sadly reflected to me later, ‘I wonder what church is going to be able to spiritually nurture a couple of gay tarot readers…?’

I’m sure that not many people (not just christians) would even know what the tarot cards consist of or their meanings so any who could actually relate to such people I admit would be few.  I’m sure Jesus would be able to connect with them but how many christians would?  (Although I remember once meeting a Portuguese girl called Barbara who lived with New Age groups and was a christian sharing her life and beliefs with them)  And as Liz also asks, how would they fit into church life?  The answer I feel is that they probably wouldn’t. 

Later in his blog, Martin referred to an occasion when he had asked a group of church-going christians:

How many think Jesus would make a good church member?

Why then when you confess to be followers of him are you focused on being good church members?

Hmmm. More questions and more pondering.  Where do I stand in all this? How would I react?  Am I so far removed from those who live differently that I don’t have anything in common to connect with them?  Who can relate to  those on the margins of society?  Has church become just for the (usually white) middle class?

My ways are not your ways

Following on from my last blog about playing 2^nd fiddle, I have been thinking a lot about how Jesus acted and how often we are so different.  Ok, reading the gospels we see how crowds seem to follow him everywhere because of what they had heard of him – the things he said and did.  Yet how often (not always though) Jesus said to people ‘don’t say anything about this to anyone’.

He could have talked to Zacchaeus there in front of everybody but said he would go to his house and chat with him (in private).  Many times we read of how Jesus went apart from the others on his own to pray and think.  When the crowd was so big he was forced into a boat, after talking to them, he set off for the other side of the lake.  When he went to the house of Jairus, he told everyone to leave the house so he could talk to the daughter himself.

I wonder if he were here today how we would approach his preaching and actions, particularly his healings and miracles. 

No doubt there would be big campaigns organised over a number of days and nights with a lot of spectacular advertising about miraculous things he’s done; there would be stewards prepared to deal with the ‘seekers’; there would be offering baskets ready to raise funds for more outreach; there would be specially invited worship groups to lead us all into the time when he would speak to us and it would all be recorded on discs for posterity – which of course you could buy for a reasonable amount of money.

But Jesus had a different way of doing things.  He often went away with his 12 close friends to spend time together and talk of kingdom things.  As with Jairus’s daughter, Zacchaeus, the mad man among the tombs, the Samaritan woman at the well, Nicodemus who went to see him at night (and many more) it’s about friendship and relationship one-to-one. 

Is it because he is showing us that relationships are more important than organisation; that kingdom priorities are not so much about structure, big campaigns and slick advertising but about lives being changed?  In large, organised campaigns lives are sometimes changed and I accept that.  I have both attended and been involved in many such events over the years but can’t help wondering if the spirit in which it is all done has sometimes become somewhat removed from what Jesus intended.

2nd Fiddle

Leonard Bernstein, the famous orchestral conductor was once asked which instrument he thought was the most difficult to play. 

Without hesitation, he replied, ‘The second violin.  I can always find many first violins, but to find anyone who plays second violin, or second trumpet, or second flute with the same enthusiasm, is difficult.’  He continued to explain that if nobody played the second instrument of any group of instruments then there is no harmony.  It is the harmonies and chords that make a melody into music and give it depth and richness. 

Harmonies are so important

A number of years ago I was privileged to attend a concert in Manchester of the great Luciano Pavarotti.

Taken from the programme of the night of the concert



At the end of the concert it was good that when he accepted the applause he acknowledged the hard work and support of the accompanying orchestra and choir that assisted him during the evening’s performance.  Without them, his performance wouldn’t have had the same depth of richness and fullness.  And what an important role they had to accompany the great singer!

The Manchester Chorale that accompanied Pavarotti at his concert that evening

It may seem more rewarding in personal terms to be a solo artist, but without the support of the accompanying instruments or voices, it wouldn’t sound as good.  In fact it would sound a bit empty and hollow.  There are those who crave attention and recognition but don’t worry when others seem to get all the limelight and attention.  Playing second fiddle is so important.