40) Go gently
Some years ago now, I bought two quilts – the first in Vermont, handmade by Mennonites, the second in a Pottery Barn store in California, with a label saying Made in India. I love them both equally. There’s something about those quilts that makes me think of comfort and home.
I just took Midge back to the airport, and sat with her until it was time to go through international security screening. It’s hard to think that she has been here for forty-one days. We have done so much in that time! We’ve travelled four thousand or so kilometres in all, through three States, with countless adventures on the way. But, like the song says, every season has its change. And so, while Midge is flying home to Wales, I have returned home to set about doing the household chores – tidying up, the laundry, dusting and vacuuming, and so on. I have changed the sheets in the guest room, and returned the California quilt to its usual place. And as the hours have passed, the house has taken on its usual habit. There’s a familiar silence that has slowly crept over everything, like an old friend.
Right now, it’s well past midnight, and the whole place is quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
Last night was a late night too. It was Midge’s last night in Australia. After the Quiet Hour service, I collected Midge from the beach, and we headed into Adelaide for dinner. About a week ago we had driven up to the River Murray Dark Sky Reserve, but the full moon made viewing difficult. Midge wanted to spend her final evening in Australia trying one more time to see the Milky Way, so after dinner we set off under a waning – though still fairly-full moon – to the Dark Sky Reserve. I’m glad we did – this time there were so many more stars to see!
The wonder of the heavens.
Millennia separate us, but I can picture David looking up at the stars:
When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place,
what is mankind that You are mindful of them, human beings that You care for them?
And it was right there, underneath the stars, that I thanked God for His protection over us during the past six weeks of travel. And right there, underneath the stars, I prepared my heart for goodbyes.
Kate Rusby sings, “Underneath the stars I'll meet you, underneath the stars I'll greet you, and there beneath the stars I'll leave you, before you go of your own free will. Go gently.” The stars themselves are a constant witness to the ins and outs, the arrivals and departures, of our lives. I’m reminded of the Psalmist saying: “The Lord will keep you from all harm – He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
Back in 2007, I was living in my own yellow stone cottage in the Cotswolds. (Either one of my quilts would have fitted in very well there.) But it was a difficult year. I was married to someone increasingly homesick for Australia. I was working so hard at my career, and spending hours commuting every day into London. And as a result, we were spending more and more time apart. I think I was tired most of the time that year, and for sure, my anxiety was in overdrive. And yet, I remember how we summered in the Dordogne, where I witnessed the thrill of the loudest and longest thunder and lightning storm of my life. How the warm rain fell in sheets! I remember how we drove up to Paris to see Barbra Streisand in concert. I remember too, that same year, a work engagement in New Orleans just as the jazz festival kicked off. And how we decided to stay on a few extra days just to soak up the atmosphere, all honey and molasses. I remember taking the paddle-steamer up the Mississippi, and languishing on deck in the humidity – the kind of heat that gets inside you, and slows you right down to a stop.
2007 was a difficult year, but I remember the good times. I remember my little Cotswolds cottage with roses and valerian in the front garden, and ivy climbing up the walls at the back. I remember hiking out for orchids on the West Wiltshire Downs.
These past twelve or so months have their similarities with 2007. The challenges have been the same – health worries and weight loss, another relationship coming to an end, too much anxiety and overwork. But so too are the moments of wonder and surprise when traveling or orchid hunting. There’s the joy of continuing friendships. And the quiet moments of calm that I cherish at home or in my garden.
We read, “Remember that the Lord your God led you on the entire journey these forty years in the wilderness…” God, ever-present to lead us, and always at work in our lives, with moments of testing and moments of grace. The grace of God as we journey towards home.
Eventually 2007 gave way to 2008, which proved to be the biggest year of change, and saw me emigrate to Australia. And so too, this past year has been setting me up for change. I sense it. Inexorable, I am now leaning into it. Just like Mary and her ‘yes’ to God: I am Your servant, may it be to me as You say…
Last week, Midge and I traveled up to Clare with a friend. In St Aloysius church in Sevenhill, I stepped quietly by myself into the Mary chapel and looked at the stained-glass windows. In that quiet place of continuous prayer, I recalled Jesus’ words to His disciples, “come away by yourselves to a remote place and rest for a while.” In those moments of rest and quiet, I said my prayers for the year ahead. I don’t know why the tears came then. Maybe they were in gratitude for old friendships that pass the test of time. Maybe they were grief for all the mess and pain of the past year. Maybe they were a deep assurance of God’s ability to hear, to inspire and to lead me still. A sign of confidence during times of change. A promise of His presence going forward.
Maybe they were simply me surrendering the whole rollercoaster of the past year to the One who can carry it all. It’s like the hymn says, “more and more I worship you with tears, they’re all I have to give.”
I know that there is still so much sorrow and pain at my resignation from Clayton Wesley. I feel it. And I’m sorry for it.
I’m mindful of the words of Scripture – “The Lamb will shepherd them; He will guide them to living waters, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
Meditating on that text, George Matheson wrote:
“Plant my Eden again in the East – the place of the rising sun. Take away the weariness, the jadedness, the fadedness, that follows the hour of struggle. Heal the shrinking of the sinew that succeeds the angel’s blessing. Remove the paralysis that lingers after the sorrow itself has fled. When I stand beside the fountains of living water, do Thou wipe away past tears from my eyes.”
I’m asking God to plant my Eden again. Underneath God’s gaze, underneath the stars, I am preparing my heart for goodbyes. Though I know they won’t come easily.
The nights will start drawing in shortly, as autumn makes its approach. Soon I’ll pull out the Vermont quilt. I wonder what prayers were said by those faithful Mennonites as they stitched it. Maybe they prayed for me, its future owner. Maybe they prayed for the home that it would bless. And so, I add my prayers tonight to those I made in St Aloysius. Prayers for healing, for forgiveness, and for peace on the road ahead. Midge is on her way home to Wales, and I am working my way through the household chores. The California quilt is back on the guest room bed, and a familiar silence has returned. The moon and stars are in their courses above. God is faithful here below. Go gently. Go gently.
Olly Ponsonby, February 2025
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Scripture refs. include Ps 8:3-4, Ps 121:7-8, Deut 8:2, Lk 1:38, Mk 6:31, Is 40:11, Rev 7:17, Gen 32:22-32, Lam 3:22-23.
“Every season has its change” is from ‘As I lay me down’ by Sophie B. Hawkins, https://genius.com/Sophie-b-hawkins-as-i-lay-me-down-lyrics
“Underneath the stars…” by Kate Rusby, https://genius.com/Kate-rusby-underneath-the-stars-lyrics
“I worship you with tears” is from ‘Jesus, You’re Everything’ by Scott Brenner, © Vineyard Music https://www.songlyrics.com/vineyard-music-scott-brenner/jesus-you-re-everything-lyrics/
George Matheson quote from ‘The Last Survivals of Grief’ in “Searchings in the Silence: a Series of Devotional Meditations on Prayer and the Lord Jesus Christ”. 1895.
“Moon and stars in their courses…” taken from “Great is Thy faithfulness” by Thomas Chisholm. 1923. Public domain. https://hymnary.org/text/great_is_thy_faithfulness_o_god_my_fathe