A prayer for the quiet times (maybe for the hibernaculum)

 Loving God,

Teach me to slow down in a world that is always rushing.

Help me to lay aside the things that can wait,

to stop striving,

to quiet my busy mind,

and to breathe in the peace of your presence.

May I learn to move at the pace of grace,

to find joy in the quiet moments,

and to trust that the world will keep turning

even when I stop pedalling.

For you are my refuge and my rest,

my peace in the busyness,

and my companion in the stillness.

Help me, Lord, to do less, to be more,

and to rest in the knowledge that I am held in your love.

Amen.

 

Hibernaculum

 Yesterday my hibernaculum period began.    

I want it to be a distinct period with a definite beginning and end.  I suppose the end and beginning of British Summer time would do but I start on my birthday (75 if you want to know) and it will finish on Easter Sunday.  I chose these dates because both are celebrations for me.  Invariably I receive a lot of flowers for my birthday so that makes a joyful start, and I am often treated to various meals too.  

Yesterday I met up with an old schoolfriend and had a lovely meal.  For those old Roman soldiers hibernaculum (winter quarters) were the time when they could socialise more than in the campaigning season and I think they knew a thing or two.  

Today I am sorting out my LED candles.   I knew where they were but can I find the charging cables?!  Tonight the clocks will "go back" and the gentle glow of quite a lot of candles will be delightful.  

Treats

 Once my hibernaculum time starts I shall want a few treats.  I’ve had a few ideas of luxury on a budget but all suggestions gratefully accepted!

Retirement has taught me that luxury is not necessarily about having lots of money. It is about enjoying what you have, taking your time, and occasionally treating yourself.  

During the winter I often buy myself a cheap bunch of flowers at the supermarket.  I think my favourites are alstroemeria.  They are so pretty and they always last at least two weeks.  Spray carnations are another good buy  Flowers do not inspect their containers before agreeing to look pretty. A clean jam jar will do perfectly well.

A day with nothing in the diary is a favourite luxury of mine.  A comfortable chair, a cosy throw, an audiobook and a little knitting or sewing is a real treat.  There is a difference between being lazy and deliberately making room for rest. Retirement should surely allow us to enjoy a little more of the latter.

I really enjoy a properly set tray with coffee and a cup and saucer and maybe a small cake or biscuit.  Mugs are fine but when I use my pretty cups and saucers I feel as if I am spoiling myself. 

Sadly I can no longer take long hot baths but a hot shower, fresh bedding and nightwear and some lovely hand cream to use before bed makes an ordinary evening feel positively luxurious.

The secret is not to buy more things. It is often to make better use of the things we already own.  None of these things requires a large bank balance. Some require nothing at all.

Luxury is not about how much we spend. It is about how much pleasure we allow ourselves.  We have spent enough years saving things for best. In retirement, perhaps it is time to make ordinary days a little more special.

 

 

Immorality in the kitchen

 

Gradually, slowly, bit by bit, I am decluttering the kitchen.  It's not easy because I have to enlist the help of friends to reach some places but I am getting the feeling that I am winning.

However, there is one cupboard which still has to be tackled.  In that cupboard is a hotbed of iniquity and immorality.  It is the cupboard where I store my storage tubs. 

I save all sorts of recyclables to reuse as freezer and fridge containers.  I wash them carefully and put them away but tubs breed.  What’s more, because they are creatures of no restraint, the resultant offspring are totally unpredictable and lids and tubs are produced which bear little relationship to each other.

Whilst my views on many things are liberal, I find this sort of activity in my kitchen cupboards totally unacceptable and I have therefore decided to come the heavy and impose restraints.  No longer are unmarried tubs and lids allowed into the cupboard.  They have to be stored complete or not at all.

What's ahead?

I had a bit of a shock last month when Annie-the-home-enhancer told me she will soon be taking six months off from cleaning as she is expecting a baby (her fourth).  To be honest I'd noticed she had gained weight but the reason had never occured to me.  Bless her heart, she says she wants to continue doing my ironing (which she does at home) as she doesn't want to sit around getting bored.  My observation is that mums have very little time for sitting around!  We shall see.  

But how to keep my house clean, that is the question.  Step forward Jack.  He's helped me before.  Don't tell him that I said this, but he's actually quite good.  I shall get him to push the vacuum cleaner around the house but I shall do what I can.  I've also told him that we are going to clean out various cupboards while he's here.  I think he's hoping to "help" me clean out the freezer as he has his eye on my supply of home-made soups.   

The Bits About Ageing Nobody Mentions

 

Getting older is all very well, but it’s not all sunshine and roses.

Later this week I will score my three quarter century.  Not everything is fun.    Knees creak.  Feet are downright painful.  My guts do the occasional fandango.  I could go on

My memory isn’t what it was.  Sometimes I think my glasses have legs and they hide from me.  I can go through to the kitchen and wonder why I have gone there.

I find the world increasingly complicated.  For everything I want to do I need a password.  A new car is baffling.  

Ageing can be lonely.  When I retired I moved further from many of my friends.  Some friends have died.  Sometimes my house can be wonderfully peaceful.  Other times it is painfully quiet.

And the weirdest bit? Inside, I don't feel particularly old. I still have plans, interests and the occasional foolish idea.

There are good things about growing older. I care less about what people think, enjoy the simple pleasures and have become rather protective of my time. An empty diary can look remarkably attractive.  My plan is to keep laughing, keep learning, enjoy what I can and complain when necessary.

This is a rather unusual post for me but I felt that my blog is sometimes a little smug.  I wish I could get my act as much together as my blog sometimes implies. 

Please don't worry.  There's nothing especially wrong today except that I am getting more and more irritated by Facebook and Instagram!

The Doctor

If I had to choose a saint to have a chat with, I just might make it Luke.  He was a man who knew how to listen and he knew how to tell stories. It is his feast day today.

He wasn’t one of the twelve apostles but he was an important companion to St Paul who called him the beloved physician.  He wrote a Gospel and The Acts of the Apostles.  His Gospel is full of kindness, forgiveness and second chances. He tells us about the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son and the one grateful leper who came back to say thank you.

Luke seems particularly interested in people in need of a little TLC. His stories remind us that God's love often appears in the most ordinary places: at a meal, on a journey, or in an unexpected act of kindness.

St Luke reminds me that I can make a difference simply by listening properly, checking on a neighbour, or offering a kind word to someone having a difficult day.  After all, healing the world is a noble ambition, but we might as well begin with the person sitting beside us.

 

Seventy sleeps to Christmas

Yesterday I made a start on the Christmas puddings.  There is something deeply smug about making the pud in October.   I can almost feel like a woman who has her life together.   Almost.

My bungalow is about forty years old but when making Christmas pudding I can feel like a Victorian cook.  Weighing a huge selection of dried fruits into a bowl, stirring with a big spoon, adding booze, spices, suet, and all the other bits and pieces, makes me feel as though I’m in the kitchen at Downton Abbey.

I rather like the idea of making a wish while stirring. Mine would probably be for a peaceful Christmas, a tidy house and the ability to remember where I have put things.  

There is also something rather satisfying about preparing food weeks before it is needed. The pudding can mature quietly in its bowl while I get on with other things.  It will be stacked away at the back of the cupboard and over the next few weeks I shall see it and feel happy.

I say “it” but that’s not quite true.  I shall make around twenty puddings, mostly as gifts.  In return I will be given shortbread, sausage rolls, mince pies, Florentines.  Making the puddings is effectively doing most of my Christmas baking.

And now I can sit down with a cup of coffee knowing that I have made a huge start on my Christmas preparations.  I shall enjoy the feeling.   It won't last.