Strikes

 

I think I’ve generally been sympathetic to the rail strike, even though it has affected me several times during sojourns to the capital and beyond. 

Today I am more than just pissed off with the RNT union leader Mick Lynch for adding one more strike day to the days already earmarked at the end of May and early June for strike action .Now he has effectively cancelled our Les Miserables trip planned on June 1st.

Now I can claim back the rail tickets for nothing and move the theatre tickets for a small fee, but we’ve lost our booking for the hotel, which was a difficult book anyway as cheaper hotel rooms in the capital early June were just not to be had.

I’ve booked them via credit card so may be able to get my money back …..but that’s not the point.

I get to go to London a lot, my sister much less so. 

And the one time she gets to have a treat 

It’s bloody cancelled

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Bin

What pray is in our black wheelie bin? Could it be general household rubbish? Perhaps it's garden waste or yet more culled books resulting from our valiant attempts to reduce the volume of stuff in our attic

No my friends, it's none of those things. I will give you a clue and that clue is King Herod. True Christians should get this easily so my apologies to Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist  visitors.

Yes my friends - it's babies! I raised the lid to empty some grass cuttings and there they were - all eight of them staring back at me. They were once Frances's dollies but she doesn't want them any more and I was told they are too grubby for Phoebe.  A lot of our unwanted stuff has gone to charity shops but apparently  these babies would not pass the sale-ability test. Also they are hardly recyclable because of the mixed materials used to manufacture them.

The new roof was completed last week and this week I have been hanging around waiting for the scaffolders to return to readjust their framework and planks so that I can get up there to paint the pebbledash rendering on our house. They finally arrived this morning so tomorrow I expect I will be up there most of the day rolling and dabbing in the sunshine. It is a slow and painstaking job but at least this time I will be on a scaffold and not on the top of a ladder. It should be easier.

The irksome bit will be getting on and off the scaffold via my ladder. I had a practice run after tea this evening. You have to swallow hard before you swing your leg over.  I promise to be careful but if this is my last blogpost you will know why.

By the way, we have had that black wheelie bin since 1993  - thirty years. I remember the day it arrived. I stuck Ian and Frances in it and wheeled them up and down the street. Oh how they laughed!

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Joy

 Listening to the song that started my journey to Christ and I have some observations. 

He will supply my joy. Each day that I take in breath I will thank Him that I am more than here. I’m living to glorify His work in me. It is a joy to live. A statement I would not only say, but actually wholeheartedly believe. With every inhale, I’m affirmed and accepted. He does great work. I am His Picasso. I am exquisite.

He is my joy

The One who supplies my joy is also the source of it. Every move I make, He is there to remind me from whom my joy is made. That is a gift I’ve never sat down to examine. Maybe this needs some attention. From the song of my spirit to my whisper of my lips, You are it. 

There is joy in surrender. As I recall my journey to Christ, I remember how I willingly surrendered my need to have an answer. There was joy in the process. I need to return to where my desire is not in the answer but in the question. 

May I enjoy the journey as much as I seek the destination

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