Chink of Light

Late at night
when I’m going to bed
I turn off the landing light
leaving the house, usually,
in darkness.
But sometimes
I see a chink of light
under our son’s bedroom door
and I know
that our son is still
awake.

As I enter our kitchen
on this chilly, December morning,
I see grey skies
all around …
except …
in one small corner
of the sky.
There, just behind the motorway,
lie the glowing orange stripes
of a winter morning sky,
just like a shard of sunrise.

And I have a sense
that this fragment of sunrise
is like the chink of light
under the door
of My God’s workshop
and that, behind that door,
on this dull, grey, chilly morning,
My God is already
hard at work.
(It’s almost as if
My God has hung a “Busy!” sign
on His door).

This miniature sunrise
feels like the red sanctuary lamp
in the chapel
that says to me,
“God’s home!”

I take a few moments
to enjoy the splendour
of God’s chink of sunrise
and I give thanks
for this beautiful reminder
of His presence
in my life.

© Claire Murray, 15th December 2021

Heart-Warming

A few steps ahead of me
a young man walks past
McDonald’s.
One hand is pushing a pram
while the other is holding
the hand of his daughter.
This man’s hands are full …
literally!

Passing by
I glimpse the school uniform
of the Holy Child school
and a tear-stained face.

The young man stops,
going down on one knee
to gently wipe away tears
and speak soft words
of reassurance.

I can’t help thinking
that this mirrors
how God treats us
when we come before Him
in pain or distress.
Almighty, all-powerful God
stoops right down
to meet us at our level
and tenderly wipes
the tears from our eyes.

Isn’t there something
so heart-warming
in the love of a parent
that gives us just a tiny glimpse
of God’s love for us?

© Claire Murray, 5th December 2021

Make Time for God …

We have a busy day ahead –
Mass, lunch
and then an event
in the city centre.
It feels like a lot
to pack-in.
But, in my head,
I find myself saying,
“Make time for God
and God will make time
for you.”

And so we go to Mass
which is unhurried
with a sense of mystery.
It’s longer than anticipated
and is followed by Benediction
(which, again, we hadn’t expected).
But I find myself saying,
“Make time for God
and God will make time
for you”
and so I sit back in my seat
to savour the mystery
of Mass
and the reverence
of Benediction.

After Mass
we drive home for lunch
along roads that are
surprisingly deserted.
After lunch
we brace ourselves
for bumper-to-bumper traffic
on our drive
to the city centre event,
only to find
that the roads are quiet
and we arrive in perfect time!

Who would have thought?
(I sense the hand of God
in this!)

Make time for God
and God will make time
for you –
how true those words have been
for us today!
(Thank you, Lord!)

© Claire Murray, 4th December 2021

Leaves!

We spend the afternoon
filling several builders’ bags
with leaves.

Rust-coloured beech leaves,
all shiny and smooth.
Brown, furled oak leaves,
all dried-out and dull.
Floppy, brown sycamore leaves
with beautiful red stems.
Golden cherry tree leaves,
shaped like feathers.
Bruised apples left strewn
on the grass
for peckish blackbirds.
And all the while
the wind playing chasies
with the leaves!

An afternoon of hard work –
raking leaves, bagging leaves
(and drinking tea, of course!)
As my Daddy says,
“Hard work’s not easy
and easy work’s hard to find!”

But, as darkness falls,
a real sense of accomplishment.

Paul and me
working side by side
and a sense of pride
in a lawn cleared (for now!)
of leaves.

An acceptance that,
in a few days’ time,
we’ll need to do it
all over again.
But that’s okay –
we’ll do it again
together.
Sure isn’t that what marriage
is all about?

Thank you, Lord, for the gift
of these beautiful autumn leaves
and also for the gift
of a happy marriage.

© Claire Murray, 26th November 2021

Latin Mass

They say that every cloud
has a silver lining
and for us
the silver lining of the Covid chaos
has been our discovery
of the Latin Mass.

All of the Mass is in Latin,
which we don’t understand,
and because of that
it all feels
like a bit of a mystery –
and that’s part of the appeal.

Because Mass is a mystery,
a sacrifice,
where mere bread and wine
are transformed on the altar
into the body and blood of Christ
so that Jesus becomes truly present
among us.

The wonder of God
right before our very eyes,
here, on the altar –
so sacred, so holy,
so mysterious!

The Latin, the incense,
the reverence, the unhurried Mass,
the choir singing like angels
all combine to convey a sense
of mystery, of awe,
a sense of the power
of Almighty God.

And so, in the chaos of Covid,
the three of us take refuge
in the Latin Mass –
my husband, our son and me.
There we find our peace.
It’s our silver lining –
thank you, Lord!

© Claire Murray, 25th November 2021