CORNWALL COGITATION #14 Saturday 6 May 2017 The Revelation to John, the last book of the New Testament, has a fascinating posit on the present.
Chapter 21, verse 5: “And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.'”
That’s present tense. Right now. Today. This hour. God is making all things new, a new heaven and a new earth. What that means can be truly a revelation, a draught from the spring of the water of life, a guide to walk in God’s kingdom now.
Given the evidence from history and prehistory and the swirl of issues facing humanity in our day and age, it would be easy to throw up our hands. Instead, we can look to the present and the future in hope. That’s what I took away from a joint worship service Sunday of St Uny and St Anta. It was one of those services that more than ordinarily lifted mind and spirit; it was partially due, perhaps, to the celebration of two congregations worshiping and celebrating the Lord’s Table together.
God speaks through creation
I read something recently of how humans communicate. The writer said people generally communicate with each other in terms of what we do, whereas God communicates with us through what God has made. God holds together the unity of the material and spiritual worlds. The thought of God speaking to us through creation was well pronounced this week in a number of walks. The walks provided both a physical and spiritual experience.
The photos show walks through Tehidy Woods near Camborne, our walk on Wednesday at Enys Gardens, near Penryn and Falmouth, and our walk to lunch on Thursday at Halsetown Inn. What God has wrought is wrought in wondrous deed.
Tehidy Woods, a cold, windy Monday
Trevaskis Farm, taste of the garden
Enys Gardens, native bluebell heaven
To Halsetown Inn, an invigorating walk
After a bit more than two miles from Carbis Bay, crossing through Steeple Woods, past Knills Monument, through Polmanter Holiday Park, past the former site of the Halsetown Women’s Institute, we arrived at Halsetown Inn.
For my main course I had slow roasted pork belly, bubble and squeak (a fry-up of left-over mash potatoes and cooked vegetables), greens, cider gravy, and onion rings. Delicious.
The setting and the food reminded me of my grandparents Solomon and Rachel. Solomon’s voice was almost audible in the snap of the crisp crackling. I ate some of the crackling, not all of it, enveloped in the memory of the 1950s at the table of Rachel and Solomon. Long live memories of familial love!
Thursday was such a sunny day that it showed in peoples smiles, but none more than that of an 8 or 9-year-old girl. She was starting up a steep hill on her way home from school. We were heading down the hill into St Ives, me some steps behind Marty.
The girl smiled at Marty and then at me, making eye contact. She struck me as a spirited Ann of Green Gables type. What made her smile? Was it her sight of us cautiously descending the incline? School done for the day? Praise for a poem she had written? Kicking the winning goal in football? The weather? Selection as May Day Princess? We’ll never know. Whatever the prompt, her smile helped make our day.
The wonder that rises from smiles also is evoked in words of greeting, such as at the green grocer and butcher and earlier at lunch. At Halsetown, the waitress remembered us from previous visits and asked whether we had walked there. We said yes, and added how bittersweet it was that we’d be leaving soon. I told her about the “presence” of Solomon and Rachel at our table, evoked by the food, the old-time-authenticity of the Inn, and the friendly service. It was all that good.
Friday included cleaning, haircuts, returning books to the library and entertaining guests for dinner. The walk to and from St Ives exposed us to strong winds. The sea was heaving with white caps.
At the Cottage Hotel in Carbis Bay, home to various coach tours, we happened on a woman who had found a bench out of the wind. She invited us to sit for a chat. She had been in St Ives but the wind was too strong to linger so she took a taxi, instead of the branch line train, back to the hotel.
She is from Yorkshire and takes a number of coach trips each year. Her husband died 13 years ago and for a few years she travelled with her children and friends. She still spends extended time with family but is happy to travel on her own, using a walker. At her next birthday she’ll be 90. Our stories touched on many topics and we bid each other multiple safe and happy travel farewells.
Saturday. What’s up today? Too windy to visit the outdoor sculpture garden near Penzance. A bit showery. Packing, yes. Will do. And we have a few errands to run in Truro.
Sunday will be worship at St Anta, farewells there, we help serve tea and coffee at fellowship time after church, then head off to Birdie’s Café in Lelant for lunch with a friend from St Uny.
Cornwall Cogitations will soon be concluded, possibly with a retrospective of the three months we’ve spent here. Then something new.