Recently a friend introduced me to the game 'Little Alchemy 2' - a game where you mix items together and create the world from scratch. It's ridiculously addictive and stupidly frustrating as you try out every combination possible to try and create the new things that are needed to make the old things disappear....
I was pleased to note that early on rainbows appeared.... I love rainbows - one of my favourite things that often appear at the right moment reminding me that I am on the right track and God is with me and things will be OK. Seeing a rainbow, for me, is a reassuring thing that keeps me going when things are uncertain or difficult or challenging decisions have to be made.
The rainbow in Little Alchemy 2 is perfect - perfectly symmetrical with equal colour strips all in the right order - a beautiful, colourful arch.
Because Little Alchemy 2 is so addictive, when I was first playing it I ended up playing late at night, and as we all know, late night games infiltrate our dreams.... and I woke up one morning having dreamt that I had been looking for the perfect rainbow - one sitting at the bottom of a Billy Elliot type terraced street, ready to dance into and see the future unfold (yes dreams are weird)..... but I didn't find it. I searched and searched and woke up disappointed.
Often when I dream weird I reflect on what it might mean - perhaps that I shouldn't play Little Alchemy 2 late at night - or play it at all...... but perhaps the struggle to find a perfect rainbow says something about the reality we are living in (bear with me....)....
Our struggle for perfection - for the perfect symmetrical rainbow arch - is distracting (not just because dreaming of them makes me procrastinate) - and we miss the beauty in the non-perfect, in the arcs of rainbow (like the one I saw as I walked out of a friend's house just after she had had some bad news), in the rainbows we see in the oil spilt in a puddle, in the rainbow clouds and the momentary glimpse as the sun shining to make the rainbow is hidden by the dark storm clouds.
There is so much potential for beauty in the imperfect, in the non-symmetrical, in the tiny moments of light - in our search for perfection, we need to not miss the perfectly imperfect.
In our tendency to seek out the best, we often try to conform what we think we should be.... but in doing that we might miss the place to which we are called to be - which might be more broken than we realise, less symmetrical than we expected, and take us beyond and out of comfort zones much further than we realised.....
"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life - your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life - and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit in without even thinking, instead fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out" - Romans 12:1-2 (The Message)
Our family don't do Father's day - never have done, and the one time I gave my Dad something he looked so perplexed I've not done it again. It's just not something we do as a family. My Dad does know, however, that he is my favourite Dad and that I love him and appreciate him hugely - it's not just a one day thing.
I'm aware though, that many people do do Father's Day - it's a day that we celebrate the men in our lives - the ones who have brought us up or been a source of inspiration and wisdom to us or have been there through hard stuff or been there through difficult times. It's a day when we just pause for a moment and are thankful for those who care for us and who (on the whole) are happy to see us when we turn up to say hello.
I'm also aware that it is a day that is hard for some. It's hard for those who have never had a good father-figure in their lives - whether their real Dad or someone else - for those who have never had the fatherly love and care that some of us have experienced - who don't have someone who they can phone up and give Dad wisdom (whatever that is..!) when it's needed..... it's hard because whilst everyone else is giving thanks, hurt and pain rises to the surface and it bites.
I'm also very much aware of the pain of not being able to be a Father when you desperately have wanted to - and as every other man who we know looks down to the hand lifting up the card towards them, the ache of emptiness and loss feels more desolate than usual. The pain of men in childlessness is not always acknowledged or recognised as much as for women.... but we need to remember it's there.... and it hurts - and for those that are hurting this weekend in particular, know that you are not forgotten.
As we celebrate Father's Day (or not) with the increasingly frustrating alpha-male Father stereotypes of breakfasts with MEAT, chocolate bars for men, quad bikes, shooting and man make fire, we need to pause for a moment.... firstly because being a good father is about none of those things just as being a man is not about aiming having to enjoy those things, and secondly because for some people the day is really hard..... and as we pause, we look up....
Because amongst the celebrations, and cards and man-food, there is the best Father ever, waiting with arms open wide to welcome us - to sit with us in our pain, to walk with us as we deal with our history, to be proud of us and welcome us as part of his family.... God the Father - he's better than any earthly Dad, loves us more than anyone and accepts us completely for who we are..... And he gets us. Completely.
A Father's Day Prayer
Our Loving and Heavenly Father
We thank you for our Dads:
the real ones, the adopted ones,
the found ones, the lost ones;
We thank you for the men in our lives,
Those who share deep love freely
Those who would do anything for anyone
Those who will never let us down.
We lift to you those who have never had a Dad;
Those who have been hurt by their Dads
Those who have had been let down by their Dads
And we ask that you embrace them and show them your love
We lift to you those who have never been a Dad,
Who are hurting because of loss and emptiness
We ask that you would comfort them in their hurt
And bring light where at times there is only darkness.
Our loving and Heavenly Father
We thank you that you are our Dad
We thank you for your love
And we run, head long, into your arms.
Amen
“And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marvelled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.
In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it.”
- Julian of Norwich in Revelations of Divine Love
This image of the hazelnut has struck me ever since I first encountered it in our spirituality module at college - a small thing, a seemingly insignificant thing - made by God, loved by God, kept by God. It reminds me that however I feel, however small, however insignificant, however lost in the moment, that I am made by God, loved by God, kept by God.... and that's what matters.
In the Dr Seuss book, which I only know really in the film 'Horton hears a who', a dust speck is dislodged from somewhere obscure and as it floats through the air, Horton (an elephant) hears a tiny voice shouting from it. Horton believes that a whole society of tiny creatures lives on that speck and so he makes it his mission to keep that tiny little world safe, so he seeks to find them the safest place in the jungle. Unfortunately the speck is stolen by the head of the jungle, Sour Kangaroo, who seeks to destroy it because Horton has disobeyed him. The film, fortunately, ends well for the creatures on the speck, and they are saved, a whole society living on a speck who had made enough noise to be heard by Horton as their world was rocked from the dislodging.
I love this image too - of Horton saving the tiny little world, of carrying it through chaos and uncertainty to be in a place where it is safe - he forgives the Kangaroo for trying to destroy it too, because he didn't know of the little tiny world on the little tiny speck.
The image, however, is lacking, because it depends on the noise of the citizens on the speck for them to be noticed..... and, unlike the hazelnut in Julian of Norwich's description, it is through its own effort that it finds its place in the universe.
As we journey through life, we often approach it like the society on the insignificant speck, shouting out and hoping that Horton the Elephant will hear our cries - or anyone - whatever it is out there - will rescue us.... we hope that if we shout loud enough someone will hear, we hope that if we shout loud enough things will change, we hope that if we make a big fuss the Sour Kangaroo will put us down and let us be so we can continue to live our lives in the way we want.
What the image of the hazelnut tells us, is that whatever is happening, however small or insignificant we feel, however much we feel like we are shouting into the abyss, however broken we feel - that actually, before anyone hears us, God, our loving and heavenly Father - he has us in his hand and he knows us; we are made by Him, we are loved by Him and we are kept by Him.
How beautiful and how marvellous is that? You, we, I - all of us - are that significant.
"You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me"
Psalm 139:1-5
Recycling in hand I went towards the front door and before I got to it I looked out of my living room window and saw a girl getting up from where she had been crouching down just to the left of and in front of my hedge as she had inspected something that she had spotted in the strip of grass that runs between the road and the pavement. As she got up she had something about her that spoke of joy - that spoke of happiness - that spoke of those moments when we simply appreciate what is around us. She had a sparkle about her as she walked on in the early evening sunshine - the sunshine that seems to be more normal here than in anywhere else I have lived.
And in her hand was the source of her joy - one bright red wild poppy - a weed growing in the right place to be seen as a flower. It sparkled in the sunlight and glowed on her face..... and I longed to feel her moment of joy with her. It made me smile. It made my emotions rise to the surface as I saw the joy she had in God's creation - in that wild poppy - that weed growing in the right place at the right time.
It was the only poppy in the grass to the left of and in front of my hedge - I went out to look, a little disappointed that there wasn't one for me too. I wanted to hold onto that moment of joy she had, as, after a hard couple of weeks, I am craving a little bit of simplicity, a few moments of that simple pleasure of finding a bright red poppy amongst the grass that really could do with a cut - that bright red poppy that probably wouldn't even exist if the grass had been cut.
As Trump arrives in the UK and as we are reminded of all the broken relationships that occur because of buildings of barriers and walls; as we hear of another act of violence that leaves someone in a critical condition or even dead; as we hear the horrific stories of people who have been left with nothing because of the brokenness of the Government implementing universal credit; as we face waiting for results and tests and the next dreaded piece of information, we need those bright red poppies that grow in the grass that nobody has cut.
Because those small moments of joy - they are what keep us going. Those moments of joy when we find ourselves laughing at what seems an inappropriate moment, smiling like a reflex at what we have seen or heard, bursting into song when nobody is listening.... those moments of joy are what bring hope in the most difficult of situations..... those moments of joy show that it is not always going to be like this.... those moments of joy... they sparkle and the shine and they punch holes in the darkness.
Those moments of joy give us hints of what the Kingdom of God is like - treasure buried in a field that is more than enough to change the world, a tiny mustard seed that grows into something so big the birds can nest in it, yeast that changes the flour so much it becomes the most beautiful loaf of bread, the tiny bit of dark chocolate that makes a chilli into a taste sensation, the little seed from a wild poppy that scatters and becomes the red poppy that brings joy to a girl walking up my road......
Look out of the window, because you never know what you will see. Seek out those moments of joy, because however small, they begin to make the challenges of life just a little bit more bearable, and as we collect them, as we gather them, as we share them, as we embrace them, they build up.....and those moments of joy will grow and be scattered amongst the brokenness - making bridges across divides, destroying barriers that stop us in our tracks, comforting those who are mourning, restoring what is shattered and falling..... and pointing the way to the one who promises a day when all of this will be no more.
Because Little Alchemy 2 is so addictive, when I was first playing it I ended up playing late at night, and as we all know, late night games infiltrate our dreams.... and I woke up one morning having dreamt that I had been looking for the perfect rainbow - one sitting at the bottom of a Billy Elliot type terraced street, ready to dance into and see the future unfold (yes dreams are weird)..... but I didn't find it. I searched and searched and woke up disappointed. 
