Hello Faith Pals,
As I watch the wind tossing the leaves outside (writing that reminds me of the Australian Christmas carol: ‘The north wind is tossing the leaves, the red dust is over the town…’) I think back to the reflection in With Love To The World, which was set for yesterday. It was about Psalm 1:
‘Happy are those
who do not follow the advice of the wicked.
or take the path that sinners tread,
or sit in the seat of the scoffers;
but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night.
They are like trees planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season,
and their leaves do not wither.
In all that they do, they prosper.
The wicked are not so.
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.’
-Psalm 1: 1-4
We learn a lot from modern takes of this psalm. In James Taylor’s (NOT the American singer) Everyday Psalms, this Canadian writer:
‘They stand like trees growing by a lake.
Their roots go down deep,
drawing strength from the whole history of human experience,
waters that will never dry up.
They blossom in spring and bear fruit in the fall.
They will not wither in tough times.
The drifters are not like that;
their roots are as shallow as tumbleweeds.
In the heat of the summer, they blow away in the wind.
They have nothing to hold them upright.
They cannot hold on when storms howl.’
In the late Bruce Prewer’s book, Australian Psalms, he give us a more familiar Australian mage :
‘Such people are like great red gums
growing by the riverside;
Flowering every season, defying drought,
and constantly putting forth new growth.
Not so unloving people;
they are like grass in a willy-willy.
When pressure is on they can’t take it,
nor can they stand the company of good folk.
Those who love have their tap-roots in God;
the unloving are rootless.’
So my question to you is: what sort of tree/bush/shrub are you? A tall gum? If you are feeling burdened at present, perhaps you are more like a weeping willow? A gentle silver birch (with a strong network of roots!), a lavender bush? A Japanese maple? We have 3 in our garden. One is very small, and I thought it had died but no! It has finally announced itself with bright red leaves. Have a think about it. The writer of Sunday’s reflection, Rev Charissa Suli, ended her piece with these words:
‘Today, let us reflect on which parts of our lives are flourishing like a tree planted by streams of water, and which parts are withering and in need of nourishment.’
News: a reminder that Lex Ross will be going into Epworth hospital on Wednesday for open heart surgery. I hope to update you regarding his progress, probably on Friday evening after speaking to Leora. Lex will be in ICU for several days, and Leora will be unable to visit him until he is on the cardiac ward. We hold them in our prayers, in our hearts, with love.
We continue to pray for Bruce and Maggie, Alan and Fredrica, Rohini and Jaya, Shirley Edwards, Ed Bahn, Marj Brownjohn, and Joan Addinsall.
We have a new prayer request, from Rob Weir. You may remember that back in July Rob’s Uncle Kev died, and we prayed for Rob’s Aunty Elv. We continue to hold her in our prayers, and now include her son, Martin who returns to Thailand on Tuesday, to be reunited with his wife Noy and son Jack. They run a backpacker’s resort on the island of Koh Phangan. We pray for safe travel, and also for an easing in Covid 19 so that their business gets back on track. We also pray for Jack, who is facing surgery early in the new year.
There is a Church Council meeting tonight, so we include the members of Church Council in our prayers, aware of all the work they are doing behind the scenes, during this difficult time.
Here is a beautiful song/prayer which was in a Presbytery email last week. Robin Mann is so gifted, and a humble man:
Because we bear your name
Robin Mann
Lord Jesus, we belong to you,
you live in us, we live in you;
we live and work for you —
because we bear your name.
Help us receive each other, Lord,
for you receive the least of us
and come to us in them
because we bear your name.
Keep us from missing out on life;
give hands that help,
and single sight,
and feet that walk your way —
because we bear your name.
Hear the whole song online:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGCoJy5fwFQ
Well, that is probably enough to keep you going! I have concluded this email with a beautiful story that Lex Ross sent to me.
Blessings and love
Barbara
The Cab Ride
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes, I walked to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’
‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’
‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a
hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was
a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were Solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her
purse.
‘Nothing,’ I said
‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.
‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning
light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything
more important in my life.
We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve
around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
Life
may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
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