37) Our invincible days
Yesterday, before sunrise, with our bags already packed the night before, Midge and I began our 20-hour, 6-stop, 749km daytrip to Kangaroo Island. It’s hard not to be awed by the beauty of the landscape. The signs of the fire that burnt half a million acres in 2020 are still visible, but so too, are the signs of recovery – “green vegetation springing out of the blackened landscape [showing] the true resilience of nature and the landscape,” as one commentator observes.
Over the past couple of weeks, in between church services, and ministry duties, I’ve driven Midge all around this neck of the woods. We have ridden the Cockle steam train from Goolwa. We have swum in the sea at Port Elliot and half a dozen other beaches. We have seen koalas, pelicans, and black cockatoos. We have visited wineries, watched sunsets, and seen the view from selected vantage points in this part of the Lofty ranges.
And in between all that, we’ve reminisced about our 40 years of friendship, pulling out all the old stories while listening to the same old music that has always been there in the background. Do you remember, nothing stopped us on the field in our day. Our invincible days.
My path to ordination came to fruition here in South Australia, so it is on this visit that Midge has for the first time seen me wear a stole or a dog collar. The first time that she has seen me leading worship, conducting a baptism or presiding at Holy Communion – those activities that form an integral part of my calling and everyday working life now.
As we’ve made our way through the days of Midge’s visit, in the beaches and vineyards of my own backyard, a realisation has crept up behind me, that for the first time in nine months I haven’t felt homesick for Somerset.
I pointed out this observation to Midge yesterday, who replied, “that’s because part of home is here right now.” She was referring to herself of course, and I think there’s truth in that. There’s that old Irish saying that translates as “In the shelter of each other the people live.” We find familiar shelter in the company of those we love. And it has been good to have company around the house. I’ve known my share of loneliness. It has been especially good to have someone who knows me – and has known me in all the ups and, perhaps more importantly, the downs of my life. There’s an ease that comes from being truly known and understood.
The Psalm writer says, “You… knit me together in my mother’s womb… I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Your works… Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In Your book were written all the days that were formed for me…” I can find comfort in being well known by Midge for 40 years, yet it is God who has always known me. And there’s a real sense of comfort and peace to be found in acknowledging and stepping into a relationship with the God who knows me.
More than that, the God who made me! We read, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you; I have appointed you.” Known and made. And made for a purpose. God has set aside for each of us a unique work to do. There’s a real sense of belonging and homecoming in opening ourselves up to God’s plan for our lives. I’ve quoted St Catherine of Siena so many times before: “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”
So, I wonder, could it be that I am doing that right here in South Australia? Not so much setting the world on fire, but living out God’s purpose in my own small corner, in my own small way. Making a difference in the lives around me? I know that I have faithfully preached the love, friendship, and shelter of God every week, wearing my heart on my sleeve, baring my soul, and humbly walking with God.
Poplin talks about the Missionaries of Charity “giving shelter to the homeless: not only a shelter of bricks but a heart that understands, that covers, that loves.” I wonder, does my heart offer shelter here in South Australia? Do I offer an understanding heart? I recently received a handful of letters that suggest that folks have witnessed an honest, if stumbling, heart and faith. That they have been pointed to a God who cares through my humble preaching and writing. And that they have been encouraged to respond to His arms-open-wide invitation. That they have found shelter in the words of Scripture.
I often think about shelter. I grew up near Burrington Combe in Somerset where Reverend Toplady sheltered from a storm, and wrote his famous hymn:
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
let me hide myself in Thee;
naked, come to Thee for dress;
helpless, look to Thee for grace.
There’s a westringia in the back garden that has grown too large. I wanted to dig it out the other day and replace it with salvia and roses, but discovered a perfect bird’s nest in its dense branches. And so, the shrub is spared from the axe for at least a season to preserve some bird’s shelter. I love how Wiederkehr describes a tree from her childhood. She writes, “There is one tree from my childhood that lives on in my memory as the most nurturing tree of all. Molly the Maple was my first chapel. She was the holy stairway I climbed to shelter myself from the storms of childhood.” A holy stairway. I too have my favourite ‘thin places’ in the Australian bush, with familiar trees and trails. Places of sanctuary and retreat where all of nature is alive and prayer comes easy.
Kingsolver writes, “You knew me well enough to find me here.” It makes me think of the story of a young Jesus in the Temple, saying, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” Or of Simon saying, “Lord, to whom shall we go? Where else would we be?” Where else indeed. I’ve been thinking about that sentence: “You knew me well enough to find me here.” Where do we find and meet God? Where do we find each other? Where would I be found? And where would I be found sheltering? The Psalmist says, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.”
Could it really be that the geography of it doesn’t matter after all? We just need folks around who really know us. Maybe it is about being known well, and being known for the things that God would have us be known for. Maybe it’s about finding our identity in Him and His purpose for our lives, and letting the rest fall into place behind.
Midge has found me here on the other side of the world, beside the beaches and hills and the bush I have come to love. I hope she has found shelter in my company and in my home. I hope she has found me in humble and obedient service to my diaconal calling. I hope she knows me well enough to have found me at peace in that calling. I hope she has seen signposts to the shelter of God during her time here. For all the old songs and stories, the nostalgia and the looking back, it’s time now for us both to look forward.
Olly Ponsonby, January 2025
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Scripture refs. Ps 139:13-16, Jer 1:5, Lk 2:49, Jn 6:68, Ps 91:4, Mt 6:33.
https://www.tourkangarooisland.com.au/visit/general-information/bushfires-on-kangaroo-island. © Kangaroo Island Tourism Food Wine and Beverage Association.
“Do you remember, nothing stopped us…” quote from “Flame Trees” by Don Walker, lyricist, 1983.
St Catherine of Siena quote, see more at https://thecontemplativewriter.com/2020/05/07/setting-the-world-on-fire/.
The Constitution of the Missionaries of Charity can be found cited in “Finding Calcutta: What Mother Teresa Taught Me About Meaningful Work and Service.” Mary Poplin. InterVarsity Press. 2008.
Rock of Ages by Augustus Toplady, 1776. Public domain. https://hymnary.org/text/rock_of_ages_cleft_for_me_let_me_hide Wiederkehr quote from “A Tree Full of Angels: seeing the Holy in the Ordinary” by Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB. Harper Collins. 1988.
“You knew me well enough” quote from “Prodigal Summer” by Barbara Kingsolver. Harper Collins. 2000.