Blogs & Other Writings

One of the first things that Father told me after we found out about my loved one’s terminal cancer diagnosis was this: it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey. He told me that the journey we would go on as a family would be something that would draw us even closer together, and that it would be a precious thing, something that we would remember and cherish with a heart full of thankfulness and wonder, not a bitter memory that we would try to forget.   Society

I love walking in the dales and looking across the amazing patchwork quilt-like fields. Each field has a beautifully crafted dry stone wall as its border. Dry stone walls intrigue me. They have no cement to hold it together. Yet, a well-made wall can last up to 100 to 150 years. The builder starts with a good foundation, then chooses flat, wide stones and small stones to fill up the gaps. I found out that this technique is called hearting. I started thinking about walls in ge

Over the years, I have heard many stories about people who weren't able to be at their loved one's bedside when they died, and who battled with grief and sometimes even guilt, because they didn't get to say goodbye to them.   I thought about this a lot, and it really bothered me. The bottom line is that I can't guarantee I will be there when my loved one dies, because in the majority of cases, we can't pinpoint the time when they go to join their Father in heaven. Not being t

I arrived at the station in plenty of time for a hot drink and to use the facilities. As I exited the car, I got an alert on my phone. Your train has been cancelled. I needed to be at my destination at a certain time as I was supporting my friend at an appointment. I looked at the screen with the vast arrays of times and destinations and was baffled. Anyone who truly knows me knows that my sense of direction is appalling, so I didn’t want to choose a train that was going in t

II - Roses and Wrinkles     I am realising that death, or at least anticipated death, is changing my perspective on almost everything. For example, I was given some beautiful roses for my birthday. They are so lovely that I automatically leant forward to smell them, but found they had no fragrance at all. They looked like they should have had the most beautiful sweet aroma, but there was nothing …they smelt of nothing. Not bad, not sweet, just nothing. I'm told they are grown

Photo by John Price  on Unsplash I don’t actually stand at the front anymore. I stand at the very back of the room. Maybe I’m avoiding being seen. The jury’s still out on that. But week after week, I slip to the back, lean in, and watch—housed and unhoused, churched and unchurched, all turned toward a band I used to stand in front of. Now I’m behind everyone, quietly asking a question I never thought I’d have to ask: Have I spent years worshiping… or performing? I carry this