Tag: Reflection

Summer Evensong at High Easter

Photo, The East Window in St Mary the Virgin, High Easter, Essex

Summer Evensong in St Mary the Vitgin, High Easter
gazing at the East Window.

We gather to open ourselves to God
in this House of Prayer,
where, alight with early evening sun,
Incarnation beckons through refracted glass.

Here, blessed Mary and humble Joseph
are transfixed in golden beams
streaming towards them from the Christ-child,
deeply alive in cradle strewn with straw.

Ox peeps adoringly over shoulder of Ass
as the shepherd and his boy look on,
crozier, an icon of pastoral love to come,
carried proudly.
Star above all, shining in majestic glory,
a portal through which heaven comes to earth.

I see the telling of this in the left window
as Angel Gabriel, deep in converse with God’s chosen One,
seeks to draw from her a ‘Yes’
that comes from the heart,
And challenges us too.

The triptych of God’s love
is completed in the third window ,
that of Presentation
where The child of God touches the waiting Simeon,
as the old man tenderly takes, holds, and blesses Him
in gentle and awesome thanksgiving,
which releases his own soul into God’s arms,
slipping into a peace his heart longs for.

Three God moments dance in coloured glass
opening our hearts, our souls, our vision,
Calling us to glorify, presenting ourselves
to receive the light of our Salvation
and the grace of God’s Incarnate love.

For this we came.


[Mr G. 23rd July 2026]

I visited High Easter Church on July 19th to take part in Choral Evensong.
I was fascinated by the East Window and above is my reflection.
Choral Evensong was sung beautifully using the Book of Common Prayer
and accompanied by a fine organist. The congregation welcome was kind
and warm, and the after service coffee was splendid!
Should you ever find yourself in that part of Essex, the postcode is CM1 4QW.
It’s a fine church with Saxon roots, roman brick and bits from almost every age.
Unusually it has a window dedicated to St. Valentine!

Hospitium

St Thomas’ hospital, London with Statue of Mary Seacole by sculptor Martin Jennings in the ground of St. Thomas’s. Mary Seacole was a pioneer of Nursing care. Photos by Mr G.

I wrote this poem whilst sitting in the reception area of St. Thomas’s Hospital, London, after receiving  some treatment. The word ‘Hospital’ has its roots in both hospitality and the monastic word, ‘Hospitium’ the ‘guest house’ where all are treated kindly’ and with concern for their well-being. Each visitor is held and welcomed. St Benedict says that all should be greeted and cared for as if they were Jesus Christ. In different forms, this is not unlike a hospital today.

Hospitium
thoughts in a hospital reception area.

People walking with purpose,
others more hesitantly,
faces clear or blank
or etched with anxiety.
Some in uniform
wearing lanyards of authority.

Squirming children in prams
pass quiet ones, carefully steered on beds;
some in pain,
others relieved – on the way to recovery.
Elderly folk, clutching arms
or balanced on sticks,
shuffle along uncertainly.

Visitors smile and greet,
lives intertwine.
Some, sad or worried,
seek news-givers
yet fear their words.

Hustle, bustle of humanity,
hand-holding, reassuring, realistic,
caring energy – often drained in service.

All humanity is present,
represented –
ethnic beauty,
language burble,
generations and races
sharing this space of hope.

All life is gathered where people seek healing,
are held, guided, directed, hugged
by walking crosses of dedication.
All, from cleaners to consultants,
playing their part
in being Christ-bearers to others.

The gentle receptionist looks kindly on.

{Mr.G. 16th April 2024}

Mary of Magdala

Today, July 22nd, Christians celebrate the Feast of St Mary Magdale.
Here is a short reflective prayer.

Father, may we joyfully celebrate Mary Magdalene
and give thanks that you appointed her as your Apostle
in the Garden of Easter morning.
In her you kindled a fire of love for Christ,
whose word had set her free.
You gave her the courage of love
to follow him even to the cross.
Seeking her teacher after his death,
so great was her longing
that you made her the first to behold him
risen from the dead,
and the first to announce to the apostles
his new and glorious risen life.
Her words still ring throughout your Church,
to strengthen faith and encourage hope.
Stir up afresh the Good News of Jesus, our Risen Lord,
that our hearts may be filled with deep joy as we recognize him
as ‘Rabbouni’, our Lord and King.
Like Mary Magdalene may each of us tell that joy to all whose lives we touch.
In the Name of him who knows and call us by Name.
We pray this prayer.

(part of this prayer is based on the Proper Preface for the Eucharist on St. Mary Magdalene’s day)

[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]