There are parts of our life that are structured and well organised, but the photographs isn’t one of them.

The other day we wanted some pictures for a purpose that I’ll probably reveal at a later date so I took the boxes down from the loft.

Sue and I then spent an evening flicking our way through the pictures.

Photographs are a capture of a time, a place and a memory.

“A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.”
Eudora Welty

Some of these photos are well constructed and thoughtfully framed images, but many of them are simple snapshots of the family in various guises.

Many of these photos remind us that our children used to be babies, that they became toddlers, started primary school and moved onto secondary school.

In some of these pictures I am reminded that I used to have a full head of hair and a trimmer waistline.

Numerous images remind us of holidays in England, Scotland, France and America; warm places and not so warm. They remind us of sandy beaches and palm trees; waterfalls and forests; cottages, caravans and even canal boats.

The camera can photograph thought.
Dirk Bogarde

There are pictures that remind us of the clothes we used to wear, some of them are remembered with fondness, others now look like a fashion disaster.

There are memories of times when there were only the two of us, a time with thee and then four.

A photograph is memory in the raw.
Carrie Latet

Some of the images we didn’t remember, some of the people we couldn’t name.

There were pictures of people who we no longer see, and a few who are no longer alive.

As we flicked our way through the multitude of images we ride the roller-coaster of emotions as we journeyed through weddings, birthdays, days out, family gatherings, holidays, activities, first days at school, anniversaries and christenings. A rich set of blessings.

Sometimes we can get so encased in the now and so focussed on the things that surround our now. But as we looked through those pictures it wasn’t the “things” that we looked at it was the people that we were drawn to. We looked at the babies and the young children and remembered the times that we had spent together, times that pass all to quickly.

The blessing of the pictures is that they took us out of our now and caused us to remember.

(I tend not to put pictures of the family on this blog, for various reasons, but each of the images I do post is a memory of a time and a place, but most importantly of the people)

It was great to spend time with friends away from the normal day to day rush. We did some walking, we did some eating, we even drank some coffee and played board games. There’s something very special about playing a silly board game in a lounge with a roaring fire and laughing uncontrollably at something that isn’t really that funny.

The weather was amazing – on Tuesday we were walking in the snow up to Easdale Tarn; on Wednesday we sat out on the balcony eating lunch in the sunshine.

As a follow-up to my last post; this holiday underlined the start of a new era with Jonathan driving himself there a few days after we left.

We stayed at Wolf House Cottages, it’s right next to an art gallery and a coffee shop, what more could you ask for:

Things are never going to be the same again.

At the start of the week he couldn’t drive and that meant that his options for going places were restricted to places his parents would take him, or public transport.

At the end of the week he has a new freedom – he can drive himself places.

One era has ended and a new one has started. There is no going back to the old era it’s finished.

I know many people who look on change as a scary thing. Each new era brings a new set of concerns and worries. Sometimes those worries are just the fear of the unknown. We can look at situation and imagine the worst-case-scenario. Our brains go wild and conjure up all sorts of terrible outcomes.

A new era is really a sign that we are alive.

Only dead things never change – things that are alive are always changing.

Watching the children move through different era is a sign that they are growing and moving towards adulthood. That’s a wonderful thing. Without it they would remain children forever and that wouldn’t be normal or healthy.

Moving from one era to another era gives us the opportunity to reminisce about the journey that we’ve been on. Much like the experience you get when your mountain climbing, and you stop to look around you, reminiscing lets you realise how far you have come. We can spend so much of our life with our head down looking at the next step, making sure that we don’t trip and fall over. We need times when we stop, look up, and realise that things around us have changed.

We’ve built up experiences in one era and now it’s time to naturally move into the next. Rather than fighting it we should look forward to it and celebrate it.

“Hooray, I’m alive, I’ve moved into something new, something I haven’t experienced before”.

I’ve never had to hand over a set of car keys before and watch a car leave the drive with my son in it on his own. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take for me to get comfortable with that experience, but I know that I will.

I’m not sure how long it will take us to work out the practicality of having three drivers and two cars, but we will.

I’m not sure how long it will be before Jonathan realises how much a car costs to run, but he will.

It’s a new era and it doesn’t quite fit yet, but it will.

And no sooner will this one fit than we will be entering into a new one.

If you look through my photostream on Flickr you’ll find a multitude of pictures  that either have them as the central feature or use them to frame the scene. I’ve created a set for them just to see how many there are.

I think it’s the intricacy that they expose from trunk to bow from bow to branch and from branch to stick and twig. Each one of them constructed in a unique and fascinating way. In the summer you can only really see the leaves on the outside, while these are also wonderful, there’s something fascinating about seeing the skeleton.

Sometimes I look at a particular tree and  ponder the reason that made a particular branch take the route that it’s taken. Whatever caused it to bend and climb in that particular way? Why did that bow shoot off in that direction?

At other time I wonder about the people who’ve climbed a particular set of bows. I think about the history that this skeleton has seen. I image which route would be best to scale the heights. Every now and then I decide that it’s time to climb myself.

These skeletons are also the promise of a season yet to come. They may be skeletons now, but soon a story of new life will start to unfold. These woody branches will soon be heavy laden with leaves and even fruit. The birds will become more active and build their nests. Eggs will be laid and chicks fledged. As time goes on, of course they will be returned to there skeletal state.

These trees go through a cycle and they know what to be doing in which season. You don’t see a tree full of leaves in the winter, and a skeletal tree in the summer is a dead tree. The trees seem quite comfortable with this, they aren’t constantly trying to fight the elements like we do. They know the rhythm of the seasons and how to live within it.

For everything there is a season,
     a time for every activity under heaven.

This little video does a wonderful job of showing the cycle of the seasons.

Lots of other people do chocolate digestives but there is only one chocolate digestive worthy of the name McVitie’s.

Every super-market that I go into has a generic version of the chocolate digestive, but none of them quite make the grade. They’re just biscuits, there’s something about a McVitie’s Chocolate Digestive that lifts it above the others.

Sitting in my home office look out as the rain gently washes the snow into a grey mush of sludge and ice my heart is warmed by a cup of coffee and a McVitie’s Chocolate Digestive. There is something wonderfully homely about the taste of a McVitie’s Chocolate Digestive. I’ve eaten them all of my life and I suppose that the smell, the taste, even the look of them connects me with periods in my life long since forgotten.

I know that some people regard a dunked chocolate digestive as the pinnacle of culinary excellence, but I’m a purest, if something is delightful on its own, why add to it.

Sue makes a wonderful Bonoffee Pie with chocolate digestives as the base. Wonderful as this is, there’s something in me that feels that this is a waste of perfectly good biscuits.

McVitie’s Chocolate Digestives – a British tradition that we should be proud of and a blessing I am privileged to be able to participate in.

The only problem is – one never seems to be enough.

Out came the trusty iPod which contains a broad selection of music, but as soon as I turned it on I knew where I was going. I selected Music, I then selected Artists and scrolled down to Bruce Cockburn – I perfect fit for the occasion. The last job was to put the iPod into random shuffle, put the earphones in and set off.

These are the first words that I heard:

Amid the rumours and the expectations
and all the stories dreamt and lived
Amid the clangour and the dislocation
and things to fear and to forgive

Don’t forget
about delight
Y know what I’m saying to you
Don’t forget
about delight
Y know

Now there’s a thought – “don’t forget about delight”. That got me thinking for the rest of my walk, where do I find delight.

I thought about the feelings of delight that I had on Saturday. We’ve been decorating our lounge for what seems like forever. Over the last two weeks we’ve been getting the finishing touches sorted out ready for Christmas – a new floor, a new TV and a couple of pieces of furniture. We’ve recently ordered the floor and the furniture but the delivery dates were all somewhere between 2 and 4 weeks away. Knowing everything would be ready for Christmas, but only just, we kind of forgot about it all.

Having been told that the floor would take a couple of weeks, less than a week later it was fitted and it looks very nice indeed.

Having had the floor fitted so quickly we ordered the TV on the Friday with a delivery date a week away – it arrived on the very next day.

We’d also ordered the furniture and been told that it would be four week while I was un-boxing the TV, Sue said – “Come on Rhodes, all we need now is the furniture”.

Less than 5 minutes after Sue’s proclamation the phone rang. Jonathan answered it and to our surprise and delight it was the furniture company. They wanted to deliver weeks early on the following Tuesday. The delight on Sue’s face was wonderful.

My normal expectation when ordering things things is that it normally take longer than first estimated, so it was delightful to have it all sorted out in double quick time.

And it’s still delightful to sit here in the lounge now looking around at a freshly finished living space.

I then started wondering what Jesus would delight in, and whether the Bible talks about him being delighted. The truth is, none of the translations actually say that Jesus was delighted. But they do say that God said that he is delighted in Jesus:

"This is my Son, marked by my love, focus of my delight. Listen to him."

Matthew 17

Now that’s a very interesting thought – the focus of God’s delight is Jesus, perhaps the focus of our delight should be the same. If it’s good enough for God, surely it’s good enough for us.

So lets now forget about delight.

Many people regard staying in a hotel as something glamorous but I’m not one of them. Don’t get me wrong, the hotels I’ve stayed in have been nice, even very nice, but they haven’t been home.

It’s great to have someone come and tidy your room for you, but it’s not home.

Eating in different places and fine restaurants can be really nice, but it’s not home.

Getting to know knew people and experience new places is interesting, but it’s not home.

Having breakfast on the 36th floor of a hotel as the sun rises over San Francisco Bay is a wonderful sight, but it’s not home.

Taking a morning walk along the beach listening to the Pacific Ocean isn’t something I can do in Preston, but Santa Barbara isn’t home.

Home is home.

It’s interesting to see how often Jesus instruction to someone who had been healed or released from bondage was to “go home”.

The man from whom the demons had gone out begged to go with him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, "Return home and tell how much God has done for you." So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him.

Luke 8

Jesus knew right away what they were thinking, and said, "Why are you so sceptical? Which is simpler: to say to the paraplegic, ‘I forgive your sins,’ or say, ‘Get up, take your stretcher, and start walking’? Well, just so it’s clear that I’m the Son of Man and authorized to do either, or both…" (he looked now at the paraplegic), "Get up. Pick up your stretcher and go home." And the man did it—got up, grabbed his stretcher, and walked out, with everyone there watching him. They rubbed their eyes, incredulous—and then praised God, saying, "We’ve never seen anything like this!"

Mark 2

Where do restored people need to be? They need to be at home. Perhaps there’s a sense in which their restoration wasn’t complete until they were home.

I certainly feel restored now I am home. We all need a place that we can call our own and that is what makes it home. I regard myself as very privileged to have a home that is warm and dry, safe and secure, a place of rest and restoration.

I’m currently working away from home and writing sitting in a hotel room. In a little while I will be going for dinner with a colleague but I’ve just returned from a short walk around the local park.

The park is typical British town park with a wonderful mix of trees, garden, statues, playing fields and streams. I love exploring these town parks, there’s something about them that reverberates with history of the generations of families that have enjoyed them.

One of the first things I did as I entered was to pick up some conkers (Horse Chestnuts). I’ve written about them before (a long time ago now), they are great to hold in your hand. It’s something I did as a child on my way to school.

I decided to go and explore the woods near to a very large statue of the Duke of Wellington sat on his horse. It’s a mixed deciduous wood and the trees are starting to take on their wonderful autumnal colours. Just beyond the statue was a tree with a set of swing ropes hanging down out of it. What else was there to do other than to give them a go, well one of them anyway. It was great fun swinging away in a tree. Again, something I did as a child, although I don’t remember the seat being as painful.

For those of you who’ve just thought that I’m a grown man and shouldn’t be doing such things – I don’t care. Where is the rule book that says that adults need to loose their sense of adventure? Why should I adhere to societies “norms”?

Jesus had a special place for the children, and for those with childlike tendencies:

People brought babies to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. When the disciples saw it, they shooed them off. Jesus called them back. "Let these children alone. Don’t get between them and me. These children are the kingdom’s pride and joy. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in."

Luke 18

Perhaps regressions is the title for this post – perhaps restoration is a better word.

“The advice is straightforward. Remember to be grateful. Spend your money on experiences, not objects. Volunteer. Nurture your relationships. Spend time in nature. Make sure you encounter new people and places. And never assume that you know what will make you happy.”

It’s an interesting list and I was intrigued by the parallels in my own experience and practice.

We’ve recently got back from a glorious holiday in Italy where we decided to create some new experiences and to see some new places.

On one particular day we decided to go to Pisa. We didn’t give ourselves a huge amount of time, and set off late in the afternoon after a lazy day by the pool. A few people had said to us that their wasn’t much to see in Pisa. We had nothing to go on so we didn’t plan a day around the place, but wanted to go and see the tower anyway.

With these low expectations we drove into Pisa without a plan following the signs for the Duomo. Seeing the tower and dome get steadily closer we drove past the entrance to the Square of Miracles and pulled into a street opposite paying a couple of Euros to park up for the rest of the evening. We walked down the street and across the road through the archway.

We’d already been surprised earlier in the day by the knowledge that the tower of Pisa didn’t stand on its own and was actually stood in a piazza incorporating the Duomo, Baptistery, Campo Santo and the tower itself.

We also knew that there had been all sorts of engineering work undertaken to secure the tower and rectify some of its lean. We were, therefore, surprised as we walked through the archway to see people stood at the top.

With time going on and the knowledge that the building would only be open for a couple of hours I headed off to the ticket office. The gentleman behind the counter was very helpful and advised me to buy a ticket for the Duomo and the Campo Santo ensuring me that they were the most interesting. There was a sign explaining that a trip to the top of the tower would cost 15 Euros and that they allowed 30 people every 30 minutes. There were loads of people outside and I expected the answer to my next question to be that they were sold out, but I asked it anyway.

“Do you have any room left in the tower today” I said

I was very pleasantly surprised by his answer:

“We have room for four people on the last trip of the day.”

To be honest 15 Euros seemed like a lot of money for the privilege to walk to the top of a tower, 60 Euros for the four of us. But this was an experience that we weren’t likely to repeat, and perhaps not even have the opportunity to do again.

It was a great experience.

Walking up the tower is a strange thing to do because the angle of the building makes it a bit disorientating. Being the last of the day does, however, mean that we were at the top as the sun was setting. Watching the shadows grow on the mountains and across Pisa was wonderful. The silhouette of the Duomo with the sun setting behind it was an experience in itself.

We will talk about those experiences for years to come. They make me feel happy every time that I think about them.