Our little house group asked for a kickstart, and this is what we got! We all have an instinctive knowledge of God, but it is at our peril that we ignore him when we opt in or out of belief.Bevere uses an allegory to show just what will happen to us, not only when we die, but on the judgement day. Scary and a real wake up call. It’s there in the Bible, but we all pass it by with complacency.As Christians, believing in Jesus, yes, we do get to heaven, but there is a life accounting to be made. I’m sure that I’m not just loving God for the rewards that Bevere goes on about. After all, you don’t love someone for them to thank you. For me, it’s the being with him. But then again, if something I’ve written or said brings a person to know Jesus, I’d like to know, that would be a reward for me.My first reaction was to yell, help to God, is this true? I’m sorry if I’ve goofed, let‘s start again, I repent. I thought I was in your will. Out walking I began praying in tongues and at work listening to the Bible on the phone, it took a while to find a UK voice! Not that it would make God love me anymore, but to let his word and spirit wash over me and clean and heal me. Was I still his beloved Anna? When I was a new Christian I heard this said behind me and jumped out of my skin!Then I began to consider the peace I had found writing and claimed that I felt this IS his will. He had given me the plots for the books in dreams, and I feel such a peace and contentment in this life now I’m doing it. Especially when creating, I can’t wait for the new day, however mundane.I began to wonder if my not writing, which I started in 1991, if I had kept on, what sort of writer for him I would now be. I have a talent for wrong decisions. Now I’m right and I’m holding on to it.I was also convicted that I needed to be giving Dave more respect, and to stop moaning and grumbling about him in my head, and when I asked Holy spirit, he stopped me (well mostly) we are so happy at the moment, even if not perfect. Both loners together, at this point of my change, I am so happy with him and he seems so too. I am at times aware of how much I do love him and when I’m engulfed in that, I send that feeling of love on to God as well.The other morning, while walking the dog, I was saying to God how do I witness to people in my situation here at the moment, the answer came autobiography, so that will come next year. Something I’ve avoided for years. I feel as if I’m in the calm, centre eye of the storm in his safety. I am in the right place now!Not that there aren’t lessons. Reading Bevere, about being jealous of other’s successes. I am. I must realise these books are Gods, funded by his money. I need to let God market and concentrate on writing his words. But being a perfectionist, I have to go on and on at the words till I feel they are perfect. But he okayed using the book marketing company, so he will use them. It’s his money.The Bevere book also has the best explanation of dying to self I’ve read. It’s the world set of carnal values that are about you, money, politics, ideology, replacing them with Jesus, so these values just don’t mean anything to you. Only God.Lastly healing. I’ve had my diverticulitis, my unbelief due to the symptoms taking over. I believe in speaking to my mountain as I am a born again Christian and believe the power of the risen Christ is in me. So now I say, in the carnal, symptoms you are toast, you are being treated by carnal medicine, and you are healed supernaturally. Illness, you’re pants. As you see or imagine yourself well, that builds hope, increases faith and enables the healing. A recent bug, I said you have a day symptoms, then you are gone, and the next morning they were! My unbelief is shrinking and my faith building, but I have a long way to go.
We’ve been here for ten years now and the spectre of Brexit looms. It would be, wouldn’t it that just as I find a work solution that fits, have a dog and am writing a new book, we may have to go! But anyway, here is my first post from March 2010. Boy how life has changed in this time, I can’t go through it all now, you’ll have to read the blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’ve been living in Austria for the past three years, having moved here from the UK with my husband. We are committed Christians and felt that this was a move God wanted for us. However, this adventure has not been what was expected! I worked for six years in England in Riding Therapy, with teenagers with learning disabilities. Since being here I’ve been teaching riding in very bad German to kids, mostly in a stable that specialises in Icelandic horses. I’m planning to begin working in the area of Equine assisted therapy this year. I am literally ‘between’ jobs as I will be starting work as a cleaner in a nearby castle which is used a Youth Hostel! I plan to write about this, God and the spiritual life, horses, snow, and my kids who I miss a lot! Maybe it will interest someone!
This morning while I was putting the washing out, I could hear something hitting the roof of the house next door, couldn’t see anything, then one hit me. It was a sycamore seed, being blown by the wind, hurtling across the gardens and then spinning to its new home- we have little sycamore trees always sprouting in the flowerbeds. Incredible as they spin like s designed toy.
This had me pondering – so much for evolution. Such a thing either doesn’t work or does. If it doesn’t the seeds fall in a heap and are unable to germinate in the shade of the tree. The tree doesn’t think to itself, I’ll send them further, oh yes, I’ll make a spinning seed that can fly in the wind, in a design that even a few hundred years ago we couldn’t create or replicate to fly. Don’t tell me the shape of the seeds gradually changed over time – the trees would have died out. No, the seeds were designed, by an intelligent being, who created the whole universe and within it a complex biological system that intertwines. So you Evolutionists, just look at a sycamore seed and wonder.
Today, the 24th September, we had our first frost. It’s been such a damp summer that my geraniums are already in the greenhouse drying out ready for the cellar and winter. The Dahlias copped it, but that was expected.
Today I put the last of the produce in the cellar, sweet pickle, yet another attempt to be Branston for sandwiches, never got it right yet. It all feels like the seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness poem written in my home city of Winchester.
Despite the cool, very wet summer, the majority of plants have run amok, and we’ve now got a freezer full of peas, broad beans, runner beans, parsnips, sweetcorn and carrots. In the cellar are, strawberry, peach and blackcurrant jam, the aforesaid pickle, pickled carrots and cucumbers, a couple of marrows, onions on a string. I have Plums in wine and schnapps, Mus or compote. In the garden are still leeks , curly kale and some rather pathetic sprouts.
In the garage I have plum, peach and red currant wine on the go. I’ve made plum, peach, blackcurrant, Elderberry flower and berry liquor. I’ve still two bottles of the precious Elderberry wine I made last year, and my original Elderberry and apple from last year- still not really drinkable (!).
The elderberries this year have suffered from the lack of sun and while black, are mostly tasteless. The plums caught up ok at the last minute though, with a huge glut, I think I’ve been given about 20 kilos! BUT not a single ripe tomato, they’ve gone green into the chutney. Aubergines were munched by something in the greenhouse. What a year!
I even found some Japanese anemones in a garden centre in Karnten, hope they they survive the winter, they will be well wrapped up! I’ve been searching for them for ages. Such lovely late colour.
We’ve finally got the pavillion for the garden and removed the old tree stump that was in the way.
On Sunday, I was at harvest festival with the Trachtenfrauen, and sat in the church, I could give a real thanks to God for his fruitfulness, and it came to me, the stupidity we have in not co-operating together as Christians, under the dodgy label of dogma.
The devil is chuckling at our own stupidity. When someone knows Jesus, loves him through whatever church they’re in, who are we to judge? Yup I have issues with Catholics, and I’m looking forward to a talk the local Priest is doing on that there are no differences between Catholic and Anglican could be really interesting! But most of all, I’m so thankful for the harvest, his richness in our lives, I could feel the love around me as were in the service. Thanks!
I know loads of people are hooked on the Game of Thrones books and TV series, but I’ve never got into serial dynastic punch-ups, I even got a bit bogged down with The Lord of the Rings. But I have found a similar book which I’m surprised hasn’t been made into a TV series, and I’ve read it several times. Sweet start which quickly descends into chaos, storms and floods, inter kingdom punch ups and even some genocide – not really my thing. However, what links this all together is the story of a search for one man that goes down the generations, a very wibbly wobbly timey wimey thing. Each time you think the character is the one, he blows it in some way. There’s loads of supernatural symbols and tales and stories and great special effects, so hippies and tekky freaks are happy. Finally, right at the end, the right guy gets found (as in all good plots), and he gets a cult following, until the climax when everyone turns on him and he gets murdered in a most vicious way. But like many of these characters, he comes back again and the book ends on one of these catalytic warning stories but which is also a great tale of hope, leading into a sequel, as the book shows he’s still around, never in fact left.
Do I need to tell you which book I mean?
To me, right at the moment, to be happy, I need solitude. It’s been a long hard winter, and there are still no prospects of work. I’m ok at home, when I get the peace and quiet to do the things that I enjoy, without negative comments and questioning. I’m sleeping badly due to thyroid problems and the menopause, so a complete night’s sleep would make me happy too. I have Shira the Goldie to look after tomorrow, so walking her tomorrow will make my day.
Yet real happiness would be a day with the house to myself. I don’t want it forever, or at the cost of a huge argument. To bend God’s ear at any moment, seeking his quiet voice. To write diaries and blogs. To finally tackle painting again. To read a few pages of a book. To eat or not eat when I feel like it. And quiet. There is always the TV or radio on due to my other half’s tinitus. So I want quiet. Where I can hear the thrush and blackbird singing in the garden over the roar from the waterfall. To maybe go to bed at 7.30 and read without justifying myself. I think back to last summer which I christened the Cowbell summer, where during the heat wave I sat and read and wrote with all the windows open to the music of the swallows and the bells from the nearby field. Maybe if I can remember this is my mind the peace will return. Just one day.
Yet despite this, three things have put a smile on my face today, unexpected blessings. Taking a surprise 85th birthday pressie to one of our clients on the Meals on Wheels round, an unexpected hug born of real pleasure from one of the neighbours who I haven’t seen for a while, and the black squirrel running along the garden fence, spotted as I sit here at the screen. I can wait for my day.