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Vote, vote, vote… like Jesus?

Delicious coolth. (Well, if we’ve had warmth, why not coolth?) I zapped down to Southwold to pay my husband’s dental fees and the temperature dropped a degree every few miles.

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I hear the tap-dancing of welcome rain on the conservatory roof. But if I sensibly wear my jeans to weigh-in at Slimming World tonight, won’t I weigh heavier than last week when it was so hot I turned up in a thin skirt?

Bleh. Life is full of decisions. That reminds me of a joke about long-ago Communist Russia: two Communists agreeing democracy would be a bad idea because then people would have to make decisions, whereas Communism saved them the effort.

Sometimes, though, the only decision we can seem to have is  to whinge or put up with it – whatever ‘it’ is. The range goes from selling-off the Post Office, cancelling the 111 service, dismantling the NHS — OK, OK, I hear you. Too political for a Monday afternoon.

But maybe politics is on my mind after watching the one o’clock news. Depressing. But this evening the nine candidates for the five seats on our local council are appearing before the electorate to introduce themselves. Brave! I’m told they are a motley crew – sorry, diverse. Newbie firebrands and hardened politicos, familiar faces and issue-driven concerned citizens. It sounds like a good variety to me so I shall turn up to take a look at them.

The meeting is being held in our church. I think that’s good too. Jesus upset the Establishment in His time and, though we’re meant to be law-abiding citizens rendering to Caesar what is Caesar’s, we’re also meant to do radical things like loving our neighbour and not simply looking out for ourselves. Christianity is a very political religion, challenging the basis for policies.

Basically if you can’t see Jesus voting for it, we shouldn’t vote for it either. Simple as that.

Oh, the rain’s stopped. Already. Bleh.



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Lovely Sunday

With that irrepressibly British mix of optimism and pragmatism, I set out for church this morning in the spring cream linen jacket clutching my umbrella, just in case. In the event, the rain held off and the optimistic first outing of the season for the lighter jacket was vindicated.

My lighter clothes have languished in the wardrobe but hope springs that they’ll see the light of day soon. And some long awaited sunshine.

I’d thought a walk would be pleasant this afternoon – one of the few things deemed suitable for a Sunday in my youth by my strict father. My friends and I used to set out – such nice girls – for our Sunday walk… But somehow boys were always involved. One friend seemed to have a built-in radar for where the nicest boys would be hanging out so we could simply amble by, apparently uninterested and unconcerned. One walk discovered our current hero playing his guitar (gospel songs, of course) perched on a bollard at the harbour.

Castletown, Caithness

Castletown, Caithness

Today, I had part of a book left to read on my Kindle: the latest Ruth Galloway by Elly Griffiths. And if course once I got stuck in, it had to be finished. Next in the queue is the latest Mirabelle Bevan by Sara Sheridan, and the breeze has got up and the sky has grey patches and I must save some energy for my second service today, mustn’t I?! So I think it’s time for a cup of tea and that new book, backed by a wonderful soundtrack of Rachmaninov on Classic FM.

Lovely Sunday!

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Dementia Diary 28: Stormy weather

It’s Friday. Outing day. So, despite the rain and wind, off I go. It’s no weather for an amble round the charity shops (which is what he used to like to do) so I suggest coffee in the warm at the pier cafe, watching the waves lash the promenade and hurl gouts of foam over the cars parked on the other side of the road.

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I don’t think it really got light today. People huddle inside hoods and head-down scurry about their business. I drop him at the restaurant  for lunch and get soaked coming back from the car park.

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We get soaked again returning to the car. Damp cord trousers are not nice. I feel I could almost wring them out. But the car heater is efficient and blows hot, drying air around our knees. Even so, I make sure he goes up to change when we get back to the care home.

Then I return to the beach and the wonderful storm. Maybe the best picture is from inside the car, because I’ve just noticed the gull.

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At first it looks like a smear on the inside of the car window, but look closely: it is a gull flying through that storm of wind and rain. Like me, it is struggling to make headway.

I hope that, like me, it will survive today, albeit battered by the storm.

Text: “Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” Luke 12:7b

Prayer: Lord who cares for everyone and everything that You created, uphold us in Your loving hands and when we are exhausted, shelter us from the storm.

Self-care suggestion: Imagine for a moment that you are a little bird, resting safely in the large warm loving hands of your Heavenly Father. Feel the warmth. Breathe in the love that is there for you. Rest for a moment. Relax. Then when you’re ready, flutter your wings and fly back to your tasks.

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