Previous letters -12th June 2020

Dear Friends,
I hope you are all doing well. Thank you once again for all correspondence during the last week. It's always lovely to hear from you. Here is my reflection for this week:


ON EAGLESFIELD PARK
Near my home is a small park. In normal times it is a hub of conversation, and neighbours pass the time of day. For now, the swings and slides are taped off and the laughter of children has gone silent. It is deserted, save for a few people who use the central path as a short cut, or a brief diversion from life as it has become. At the back end of the park is a little wildlife area, peaceful and teeming with new life. But few have watched the ducklings emerge to follow their mother round the pond. Few have stood, as I do now, to watch the ripples as the insects land, or to hear the frogs call to each other across the open space. It is here that I walk my dog in the late evenings. No one else is here. Just the two of us on a bedtime stroll. I wonder what she is thinking. Do animals sense how our world has changed and why? Are they, who are closer to nature and to God than we are, as concerned and stressed, or do they simply wait? Such questions race round my tired brain. It occurs to me as I walk and think that, for me, this bedtime walk is a prayer. All the thoughts and concerns of the day are free to wander round my head, to drift towards God and to settle in the space between my mind and the nearness of heaven. 
Dusk is the best time for those inclined to pray. It is as though the world is drawing its curtains, sitting back and allowing a few moments to breathe and take everything in. And in the park, amid the gentle sounds of ducklings, frogs and rippling water, there is God. I notice the Divine Presence for a split second before the moment is gone. I look up. A neighbour is on the central path now for his late evening run. He waves and calls across. I can't hear what he says. But I wonder whether he notices it too, this Otherness. My dog is slowing. She is ready for bed. We walk home, but as we go, the air is somehow lighter, and I am more ready to face the night and a new day. 

Stay safe and stay in touch.
Yours in Christ,
Helen. 


Helen.