Tag: Gill Henwood

Shekinah ~ Glory

A View from the Lakes

One of the joys of having friends in the Lake District is that I am sent wonderful, scenic photographs from time to time.

Over many years I have visited, camped, trecked over hills and down a few ‘mountains, visited bookshops in Ambleside and Grasmere, where I have also  partaken of the famous and delicious ginger bread. I could go on and on. More recently I have come to know something of Josephina de Vasconcellos, an amazing sculptor and her husband, the watercolourist Delmar Banner. They lived near Hill Top. Through them I have found a connection with Beatrix Potter.

But my ‘living’ connection is with my friend, Gill and Stephen and, further North, Lesley and John, and in Carlisle, my friend Michael who ministers at the Cathedral.
It is through Gill’s camera eye that I am able to share the photos with you. The recent mixture of wild, snowy, frost dressed weather has provided contrasts. We are now in the thick of winter and just over halfway through January. Yet there are signs leading to expectation of new growth and new life.

Gill supplies me with reflections, notes and thoughts.

The photo above looks towards Fairfield Horseshoe on the Helvellyn range, over mist rising from Windermere and the River Rothay. In the foreground, the frosted roof of the sheep shed shelters 250 expectant ewes. Another 95 are due to join them as they prepare for lambing from 12th March.
The local fell breed ewes beloved of Beatrix Potter, Herdwicks, are up on the thin grazing sheltering at night by dry stone walls, foraging in the sunlit uplands by day. Here she suggests, sheep may safely graze, the ‘Herdies’ are sheltering and nibbling their way down the slope.

There has been a recent storm. So much of nature around Tarn Hows has been battered but there is also resilience. We dare to be confident whilst woefully aware that the real damage to Nature is being done by human beings.
Up in the Lakeland Hills it is easier, perhaps, to see that beauty and sustainability come at a cost, not so much to us but the struggling animal kingdom. I often hear  it referred to as the ‘natural world’ (of Nature), which ironically suggests that we are the ‘unnatural’ world. I think that the way our humanity is behaving right now, that could be very true!

Storms in Nature are often followed by silence; a time of re-collection and respite.
Gill talks of a ‘still small voice’, as that which surrounded Elijah on the mountain. (1 Kings 11;9-13)
She calls it The Shekinah – the Glory – of the Lord – as cloud over Hellvellyn ridge.

Frost and snow,
wind and cloud,
rain and sunshine,
air and life.
New growth
bringing new hope.
Gratitude, Thankfulness .
Dependence on God.
Love assured.
Kindness lived out
in hearts warmed by grace.

Creation is stewarded
by us for Creator.

Lord have mercy.

[Gill Henwood & Mr G]

{remembering Ronald Blyth RIP}

All is beauty

The photograph of Hawkshead is by my friend, Gill Henwood.
The quotation is by St John of the Cross whose feast day is December 14th.

John of the Cross was regarded as one of the greatest Spanish mystics of the sixteenth century.
His writings still nourish modern Christians in their hunger for a true experience in the spiritual life.
He was born in 1542 and became a Carmelite friar at the age of twenty-one. Four years later he met Teresa of Avila in one of those God-moment meetings were two souls are fused together by the love of God, for the greater good of Christianity.
Teresa was occupied in reforming the Carmelite Order, instilling renewed vision and discipline and founding many new Convents of Prayer throughout Spain. John of the Cross joined her in this work. He served as a spiritual guide to the nuns and to Teresa herself. He was one who encouraged her to write her teaching on Prayer. His prominence in the reform movement made him a target for those who preferred the more comfortable old ways and twice he was abducted and imprisoned. After Teresa died, he was again targeted, this time by his own superiors in the Reformed Carmelites. Their harshness contributed to his death in 1591.
Nothing, however, took him away from his love of God and he gladly accepted the hardships because he saw them as sharing in the sufferings of Jesus on the Cross. Hence his name.

Like Teresa, he experienced the presence of Christ in “intellectual visions.” His reflection upon these experiences issued, first of all, in poetry of extraordinary power and beauty. At the urging of his disciples, he selected a number of his poems and produced prose commentaries on them, which have become classics of mystical theology. This includes one of his most famous writings on The Dark Night of the Soul.

John united the vocation of a theologian with the experience of a mystic, and his writings are the good example of theology as the fruit of prayer.

The most lovely thing that was ever said about him was by St Teresa.  “I cannot be in the presence of John without being lifted up into the presence of God.”

John said, himself, about God:

How gently and lovingly
You wake in my heart,
where in secret You dwell alone;
and in your sweet breathing,
filled with good and glory
how tenderly You dwell in my heart
with love
.

from, The Living Flame of Love by St. John of the Cross

and here is something for us to ponder over and pray about, applying it to ourself.

God is more pleased by one work, however small, done secretly, without desire that it be known,
than a thousand done with the desire that people know of them.
Those who work for God with purest love not only care nothing about whether others see their works,
but do not even seek that God himself know of them.
Such persons would not cease to render God the same services, with the same joy and purity of love,
even if God were never to know of these.”

― John of the Cross, The Collected Works of Saint John of the Cross

[Mr G]

Winterscape : The hidden tree

photo: Gill Henwood

Gill has been reflecting on her photo and what it has revealed about the Conifer/Christmas tree in background.

Revelation of the tree

The ‘Christmas tree’ (see above) has been hidden within the linear wood along the lane for a century or so, quietly growing upwards. Surrounded by vigorous sycamore, oak, beech and lower wych elm, the Christmas tree has gradually, slowly, reached maturity high in the canopy. 

Unnoticed by those who walk below while the deciduous trees are in full leaf, for they spread their branches and budding twig tips to catch the sun in every space, the Christmas tree has pierced through to the light, with a trunk straight and strong.

Throughout the decades, lower branches have been left behind – only the top half of the tree has needles now, the ridged bark of the trunk is bare. We have walked past, day by day, or driven up the lane, rushing past. Only now can we stop, look up and realise how our tall our Christmas conifer towers above us. Hiding in plain sight, revealed through the winter beauty of the  bare skeletal trees.

We can’t reach up into our Christmas tree to decorate it with baubles and candles. No ladder or steps can scale her height. S/he stands proudly wild, independent of human intervention, glorying in natural majesty. But the frost crystals settle on her needles, and the snow dresses her branches. The little birds flit in her shelter, glimpses of red breast or blue head, flash of white wing bar or red crest – these are our tree’s lively colours, as the flocks flutter up from foraging in the fallen leaf litter below.

S/he may have cones that will catch the snow too. They are secret, only for the seed hunters to find. And if the sun shines while s/he’s decked with crystals, s/he’ll sparkle in refracted rainbow colours.

Our Christmas tree is decorated from above, through frost, snow, light, birds and the many creatures living and moving through her shelter. God’s joyous blessings, given in creation of our natural world – a world we rush through and pass by, often failing to notice until we stop, and let ourselves look up.

This Advent, may each one of us find the gift of stopping somewhere, and receive God’s blessings as our Christmas tree receives – quietly, often hidden, but courageously growing towards the light. Light of the World, revealed in the mystery of Christmas… And as I reflect, the barn owls next door are screeching as they set off in the starlit dusk to hunt through the trees down the lane. Sometimes they perch in the trees, spying movement, watching. They are rarely seen, just a white shadow when flying, but their song – a screech – tells us they’re in the trees every evening. Perhaps one of them will perch in the Christmas tree tonight, waiting for the moon to rise in the clear, freezing sky

[Gill Henwood]

Winterscape

Winterscape is a photograph taken by my friend Gill who lives in the Lake District.
She sent it to me yesterday and I just want to share such a beautiful photo. So often photos can be more meaningful than words.

  O ye Frost and Cold, bless ye the Lord :

praise him, and magnify him for ever.

  O ye Ice and Snow, bless ye the Lord :

praise him, and magnify him for ever.

(from the Benedicite – a song of creation
‘Benedicite’ means – a blessing)

[Mr G]

photo by Gill Henwood

Winterscape Postscript from Gill

When I took this photo yesterday morning, I was admiring the branches bearing fresh snow in the stillness of the filtered daylight. As I framed the picture, I noticed for the first time, a very tall conifer tree within the bare branches of the ‘linear wood’ of the lane. I realised with Mr G’s posting that I haven’t noticed that tree for the seven and a half years I have been walking down the lane. Only the loss of the thick glorious canopy of mature trees’ leaves has revealed the conifer within, and the holly bushes too.
I am reflecting on loss and revelation, the beauty of the skeletal decidous trees and the quiet, hidden contrast of the lush, hardy evergreens…. [GH]