A man of God died last week

Probably several did, but this was someone who had input into my life, although that was many years ago. At one point I regarded him as a sort of spiritual father and indeed leaned too heavily on him as I have alluded to in other posts. But looking back I can say that his input into my life ended up all positive, though I might not have thought so at the time. Indeed I would not be where I am now if it were not for his input although one can conclude the same from just about any past circumstance, butterflies and all that. I have no photograph to share but do have his signature at the end of, I think, the only note he sent me. His parting words preceding his sign-off were "pray for me as I do for you". I regret that I have not obeyed that missive as well as I might have - because of my ridiculous philosophy I had back then that he was too far above my realm to warrant my prayers having any effect. Perhaps history would have been kinder if I had. But what I do know is that God turned a past estrangement completely around and has bound two families together in a way that still blows my mind to think about it.

Thou shalt not five

The boy is now in full sway of medication with his family living close by in a hostel. To quote "the impact of the chemo medication will hit next week".  I happened to have a bookmark in Hebrews 13 and, after reading his latest post, happened to look down and my eyes alighted on verse 23: Know ye that our brother Timothy is set at liberty and could not help a spark of hope igniting within me.

My previous post

I like this picture

Sci-Fi stories about time travel are often unsatisfactory and yet the concept is curiously attractive. But we can sort of time travel back by looking at photographs.

I like this picture - it brings back memories of posing for it whilst feeling the warmth of the dog beside me and the roughness of the bricks under my legs, and anyway it is a great photo - does that make me a narcissist?

Sadly the colours have faded - I was in fact wearing a light blue jumper and the sky behind was largely blue. I've tried adjusting the colours but cannot get it quite right.

The location was our "top garden", the one with the swimming pool (to the right) and my workshop (on the left).

I use this picture as my avatar for various computer apps so I get to see it daily. And sometimes as I look at it and dwell on times past I remember that my father, behind the camera, was also looking and it makes me wonder - and this makes my heart lurch - how much did I disappoint him in later life? Doubtless he appreciated my company in the railway room, the things I used to invent, my success at Oxford and getting a job for the BBC, my falling in love and marrying Ali. But then more and more of my time and devotion was spent on church things and with my own family and, when my mother died, he began to spend more time at the W's and for both these reasons we got to be with each other less and less.

If I could live my life over again many things I would not change - but I like to think this I would change - to spend more time and talk more with both my parents. To be an encouragement to them particularly in their later years.

Wonder of wonders

Something out of the ordinary happened today - I was running my standard 4.25 mile course and on the uphill to Cavanagh's farm when I became aware of a cyclist keeping pace alongside me. Conversation ensued and I found that he was a barefoot runner! The very first person I have met who runs barefoot! Or should I say ran, because he admitted he gave it up a while ago for fear of finding broken glass or worse in his native area of Phoenix Park. Seeing me gave him resolve to start running barefoot again.

Thou shalt not tempt update 4

I did not hear any results of the blood tests so I suppose they did not indicate complete healing as we had hoped. I have now subscribed to the family's email feed so no longer have to rely on a friend giving me updates. Their latest update starts "T's chemotherapy medicines started dripping into his central line at Noon on Tuesday. And I'm not sure what more to write." I am hurting inside when I read this. I had thought that the "burden" I had felt to pray for complete healing, so as to avoid him having to go through chemo, was from God and therefore that it would happen. Not for any good in me but because God keeps his word. Of course it is possible to rationalise - perhaps it was my own silly emotions and no burden from God. Perhaps there is no God and the whole thing is an illusion. I've already made the point whether he is healed or not is not my business - it is God who will do it or not do it. But I still feel like I have failed in some way. Of course I suppose there have been many others praying for healing - I wonder how they feel? Most of all I wonder how the boy himself feels, who had said "it gives God more time to do the big miracle of healing!". And it must be so trying for his siblings and parents.

And this is not the only time I have been pretty convinced that God was telling me to pray in a particular way but not yet seeing what I regarded as a full answer. Maybe I have to wait longer. Those guys in in the roll-call of faith, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise in their lifetime. Tough! And not only that but I have contracted a cold which itself makes a chap feel in the mulligrubs; not only that but my business has (hopefully temporarily) ground to a halt, and I have to wear glasses and now it looks like I might have to wear a hearing aid. And because I am supposed to be one of the leaders in the church here but I feel like that is largely a joke. And, I could go on... I predict that any people who live here reading this will say the equivalent of "Everybody needs a Michael" which roughly translated means Michael will mend the broken this or that, and doubtless Michael will for I like mending things, but is that my sole purpose in life? Maybe it is.

Of course I know the words: Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.  For you have been a shelter for me and a strong tower from the enemy.  I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. And have taken, and will continue to take some comfort in them. But still...

And these words: And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them?  I tell you that he will avenge them speedily. Nevertheless when the Son of man comes, shall he find faith on the earth? The Greek word translated "speedily" means just that, however God's idea of speed does not generally tally with my own and the final "shall he find faith?" suggests that many will not go on believing in the face of apparent denial, rather as seems to be happening to me. At least I can take comfort in dear old Thomas who admitted "Except I see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe."

Nevertheless I will (try to) doggedly continue to ask God to heal this boy, plain contrary to what I am told is happening to him, and in the meantime may God give strength and perseverance to him and his family throughout whatever ordeal he has to go through.

The sea, the sea

I have just finished reading the sea, the sea by Iris Murdoch and have found its portrayal of "the jumble of motivations that drive (the narrator) Arrowby - the human vanity, jealousy, and lack of compassion behind the disguises they present to the world" a disturbingly accurate caricature of what goes on in my own consciousness. I persisted through its sometimes banal and boring, but sometimes beautiful narrative because I wanted to see if Arrowby's experiences and conclusions would draw any light on my own. They didn't, of course, except to make me more curious.

The subject matter reminds me of Till we have faces which centres around the narrator Orual's possessive and jealous love for her sister. Only in this case Lewis is able to present to the reader at least a suggestion of the resolution to the problem echoed in the title of the book.

I cringe when I consider what face I present to God, who made me, or to my fellow man.

Castletown

Castletown House

I was let out today so I cycled to Castletown House. Yesterday the weather was balmy; today it was overcast and the wind was cold and the only time I felt remotely warm was on the way back, whilst eating a CDM and drinking Club Orange, courtesy of Swans on the Green (a shop), and on a bench in the said green, when the sun deigned to shine somewhat feebly between incessant clouds.

Swans on the Green

Time for a smackeral - spot the CDM!

The route

I doubt if William Conolly was ever caught eating a Creme Egg on a bench outside his palatial residence.

Castletown House grounds were humming with walkers, dogs, joggers and, surprising, bicycles.  I found a back way in, close to Western aerodrome. Which latter was of course where it all started, "it" being my youngest's passion for flying.

Stats: 59.0 miles, average speed moving 12.6 mph, maximum speed 33 mph.

Detail by Western aerodrome and Castletown House

A brief visit to the Wicklow Gap

A busy weekend - removing carpet in hall stairs and landings and repairing floorboards ready for a new carpet to be laid later this week - but a gorgeous day so after doing my bit I got away for a couple of hours, enough to make the Wicklow Gap and back again. With a cold hot cross bun.

The outward journey took just over an hour, then 5 minutes of bliss atop a large rock enjoying the scenery and enjoying my bun sluiced down with water, and then hastening back again (we have company for dinner).

Total distance 21 miles, maximum speed 40 mph (the downhill behind Knockalt), average speed moving 12.3 mph, maximum elevation 480m.

The outward journey follows part of St Kevin's Way - but I only saw one walker and he wasn't on the official Way. Whilst I condone the increasing number of way-marked paths here in Ireland (I can't think of any when we first moved down from the North 35 years ago) it is still a long way behind the UK. When last in Devon I was reminded of just how many public footpaths there are. This site notes that Devon County Council is responsible for maintaining 3.200 miles of public rights of way, and there are similar sites for other UK counties, like here for my county of birth. Here even the way-marked paths often cross private property with permission but without right of way.

At least there is growing pressure here in Ireland for change.