Slowly to Recover

It's been a better Christmas break than I could hope for. In the weeks before it all kicked off I prayed a very small, but heartfelt prayer that I would get the space I needed to catch my breath, and I'm deeply grateful that it was answered. It's been the quietest Christmas, pastorally, since I came to St Hacket's. We've had some good days together as a family - off to the panto in Aberdeen (3D specs have come a long way since I was a kid!), to the movies and bowling, out for walks and meals, and even a wee mini-break at Granny and Grandpa's. Catering and childcare included in the tarriff!

In a couple of weeks I'm getting a break at Pluscarden Abbey, a Benedictine centre, with some new friends and I'm really looking forward to some space with God to help me find focus for the year. I went away this time last year to the Bield at Blackruthven, and one of the fruits of that time was that I started dabbling in poetry again - something I'd not made time for for ages. This is the piece that kicked it all off - written after a lovely, languid, solo swim in the Bield's pool. What is it with me and slowness.....?!

Slowly To Recover

Just me and the pool.
Water slopping in the drains
and the sonorous hum of machinery doing
exactly what it was meant to do.

Twenty, thirty, forty.
Then one length slowly to recover;
what exactly?
The now.
This gifted moment I am living.

Golden ochre shimmers on the waves’ crests,
dappling the undertow of blues and indigoes
with liquid light.
A thousand swells,
dancing, dying, reborn.
Beyond describing.
Beyond even seeing.
Simply beheld, with sheer gratitude.

Steaming shower,
slowly to recover.
Soothing aches;
kindling limbs, and thankfulness,
to life again.