Are you getting your recommended daily allowance of reading?
A funny thing happened recently when I went away for a few days with my family. I took quite a few books which I wanted to finish, left several long reads at home and bought a handful more while away. One was written to teach dogs Welsh, and while it scores points for not being entirely in English, I don’t think the dog – or I – have learned a great deal from it.
Notably, I found reading for pleasure while trying to relax with others who had not brought books almost impossible. We played games. We celebrated the rain. We marvelled at the colours of nature. We wondered how to pronounce Welsh words. We ate well (and decided not to worry about holiday calories, working on the hazy theology that ‘all the fat is the LORD’s’ – Leviticus 3:16).
Perhaps I took the wrong books with me. The newer ones had greater immediate appeal, of course. They had hooked me in and were lighter on the old neurons.
Every book needs a good hook
New books, outside the genres I write in, do not feel like work. I love reading, but the more I write, the more I want to read, consciously learning how other writers write. Some writers I return to frequently, thirsty for comic refreshment or astute observational prose. Then there are books which are heavier or drier: some I make myself finish, but not all.
In our local reading group we are working through a book which is deeper and longer than many. It is an Olympic swimming pool of a book. Sadly, this summer, while I can manage paddling pool volumes or even the occasional lido, I do not have the strokes to complete the thing. It will not be read in full, and therefore will not make it to my annual list of ‘All The Books I Finished Reading Completely’. Part of me is angry with myself for these reading shortcomings, but another part of me – the part that loves to find new metaphors – wants to celebrate the authenticity of doing well enough without overdoing it.
I bring you the art of semi-skimmed reading.
Must we consume the introduction, acknowledgements and blurb? No!
Try semi-skimmed. This tried and tested method is best suited to non-fiction and means reading enough but not overdoing it. Semi-skimmed reading looks through the contents page, the main points at the beginning and ends of chapters and the various headers throughout the work. It notes conclusions and references and gets the gist, but is also honest enough to admit that it hasn’t read the whole thing. If every academic had read every page of every work on their own shelves, none would ever have time to mark, eat or sleep. Balance is required. Semi-skimmed reading teaches you where to find what you need in future and gives you a greater respect for the topic.
There are books suitable for reading to children at bedtime, which can be semi-skimmed with a little practice. The metaphor can be extended, I am pleased to say. Some books are suited to reading on holiday, when you need something light or fast-paced (pasteurised). There are books suitable for deep thinking, in smaller doses (condensed). There will always be people who are lectose-intolerant and insist that they cannot possibly manage a book. I am cynical about these claims for the most part. We should all be on a well-balanced reading diet.
And the occasional read of something a bit fluffy because that’s all we fancy that day doesn’t mean we failed.
In Hebrew, I mean. In English it stretches a bit. That’s an excellent word-to-action ratio however, whichever language you look at it in.
According to Jonah 3, the overturning transformed things. A dramatic change in behaviour throughout the city led to God changing his plans. Lots of about turns.
You might have your own five word horror story. Did you ever join in some meeting, nervously sipping bad coffee and fiddling with a sweaty pen before the leader turned to you and said brightly,
‘tell us something about yourself’
and the ground did not open up beneath you and the entire story of your life fizzed out of your memory? Fun times.
Or perhaps you found yourself driving in some remote State of America and spotted this:
…which, according to the chap in orange you just picked up, is just fake news, y’all.
Five words can spell disaster. Most disasters don’t need many words to be conveyed. Bad news punches hard. But – and this is my point – five words can also be used for good. Five words can turn things around.
I gave a talk on this topic this week and tried to come up with ideas.
‘Tell me how you’re doing’
seemed to me a universal way of checking in with someone, valuing them and being ready to listen and support. We all need this from time to time.
Other ideas included connecting spiritually:
‘Let me pray with you’
‘Are you free on Sunday?’
A lovely friend messaged me to say that:
‘How can I practically help?’
were her powerful five words. And she meant it. She is a kind and generous person who loves to support people.
Compassion is not cheap, and neither is grace.
Five words – like five well chosen stones – or five loaves of bread – can go a long way when they are used for good purposes. For God’s purposes.
Who is God asking you to listen to?
Who is God sending you to?
What five words are going to change you – and perhaps those you meet?
Do you laugh at yourself? I often find myself chuckling away about trivial things. My sensitivity to silliness is fairly fine-tuned these days, as I forget so much and use much effort noticing either the big picture or the tiny details of the world around me. Rarely both at once. I make many silly mistakes every day and given the choice between laughing and crying, I think finding the funny side is usually healthier.
Recently I prepared some ‘out of context’ visuals for someone’s birthday and I thought it would be fun to share them here. Bear in mind that I do study and teach the Bible and how not to use it out of context. A good way to consider this is to deliberately take verses out of context and wrap them up in free images (Pixabay). This set has a particular theme. Maybe I should do some more with different themes in future.
There is a serious side of course – it should become evident that it is easy to take anything out of context with the appropriate visual and that we should keep our brains engaged when presented with statements of any sort – but mostly this was just for fun. I hope you like them, and do comment if you’d like me to prepare any on another particular theme.
Photo descriptions: 1. ‘Find someone who plays well and bring him to me’, from 1 Samuel 16:17, on a silhouette of an electric guitarist at sunset 2. ‘Do not fret…’, from Psalm 37:1, on a high angle view of a bass guitar’s neck (with frets) 3. ‘Whoever practises…will be called great…’, from Matthew 5:19, on a bass guitar lying on a wooden floor 4. ‘What’s the meaning of all the noise in the city?’ from 1 Kings 1:41, on a crowd at a rock concert waving their arms 5. ‘And the sound was heard far away’ from Ezra 3:13, on a view of a musician on stage from behind, showing their feet, cables, pedal, laptop, foldback speakers.
Well, this is truly unprecedented. The family have been stockpiling every conceivable edible thing and for the past week we’ve been taking in more and more foster animals. Ham asked me how much food I thought we’d need for us and all the animals, but I have no idea how long we need to lockdown. ‘It’s not my idea’, I told him. I’m just following official guidelines. Meanwhile, Shem has filled a whole cabin with toilet paper. Strange lad. No one has brought a corkscrew, so it looks like we won’t be cracking open any wine for the foreseeable.
I’m grateful that the family are rallying round now anyway. They do take up the room: maybe I should have measured a bit more carefully. Suddenly there’s elbows everywhere. We’ve divided up our limited area and everyone gets a bit of outdoor time each day, although there’s not a lot we can do about the smell indoors. I blame the pets. Mostly.
We have strict instructions not to leave, and I hope we will get through this without mishap.
Sounds like the rain has started.
Day 5
Well, that was a storm and a half.
I say was, but it’s still going. Decidedly soggy out.
Various neighbours have knocked on the door over the past few days. It’s a bit hard to hear them, so I climbed out on deck to call down and tell them they weren’t supposed to leave their own homes. Lots of shouting followed. It’s quite high up on deck, so pretty hard to tell what they are saying. If they are complaining about the smell, there’s not a lot I can do. If they are checking we are ok for food and toilet paper, that’s very kind, but really not necessary. Tried to explain this, but the near constant rain really interfered with communicating.
Day 17
Haven’t seen any neighbours for days. Probably for the best: they really ought to take this isolation thing seriously. Actually I’ve not been outside for a while. Rain was getting me down, and not enough space to dry out clothes inside.
Everyone is on a rota for the jobs that need doing. I was a little concerned to see quite how much I’d have to get done, as well as teaching my sons animal welfare, geography and woodwork. Am tempted to adjust the rota when no one else is looking.
Day 41
Finally, a day with no rain.
Looked out during my exercise hour and saw a rainbow. Had a little think and wondered what it all means.
Was startled by a runaway piglet splashing about on deck and spent most of my free time trying to catch the thing.
Jay said it was Ham. Ham said Shem let it loose. Shem blamed someone else, but I forget who; I had stern words and sent them all to their rooms. Five minutes later their mum told them to get back to their chores. I would have said something, but I realised that I would be doing extra jobs if I didn’t keep my mouth shut.
Day 50
I’m really missing my friends. I used to meet up with several of them before all this started. The whole landscape has changed since then.
Also, I could really do with a haircut. Kids are joking I look like a yak.
Day 62
This is really getting tedious and most days just feel the same. Jay developed a cough, so is keeping to himself in his quarters. More work for the rest of us. Hmmph.
The wife pointed out that we are almost out of flour and she won’t be able to make any more bread soon. I didn’t want to mention that I don’t think there will be any more flour for quite a while. Even planting seed looks to be off the menu, so next year’s bread will be unusual. Might have to ration what’s left, or start eating some of the rabbits. I’m sure we didn’t start with that many.
Day 78
The wife has taken to knitting special beard masks for those of us who can still smell the animals. You put it over your mouth and nose when you feed or clean the animals. Can’t see it working, but I don’t like to upset her, now we are right out of flour. I didn’t ask where she got the wool from, although I noticed the llamas looked a little chilly last week.
I have been doing a spot of DIY and have designed and built a magnificent flagpole. Gets me outdoors and away from the lads – they will not stop squabbling! Might ask Mrs N to knit a flag if she gets time. You’d think you’d have lots of time in lockdown, but the days are all so busy.
Day 99
What a day! Ham went for a swim and we nearly lost him. How many times do I have to tell the boys ‘Stay Safe – Stay Indoors’? It’s not a suggestion: it’s a strict instruction. He did look a little drippy when we fished him out. Said he regretted it, but that he was feeling so claustrophobic. I do understand, of course. Being stuck inside so much, I have taken to eating more. Good thing I like rabbit.
The wife made me a flag. It took her a while, as she wanted it to be colourful – like a rainbow, she told me. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked her, but she went zooming off to do something else. Sat and talked with God a bit: the only part of the day which is making any sense now.
Day 121
It does feel like things are going to be very different after all this. The sky has been bluer, the stars clearer and water around us is cleaner. Except of course when Jay and Ham empty the buckets from the stalls. You do not want to be downwind of that!
Am getting rather fed up with rabbit stew, if I’m honest.
Tried plaiting my beard. Not really helping. I keep tripping over it. The yak doesn’t have this problem, I noticed.
Day 150
We are no longer floating, but it’s not clear why.
My beard is now so long the wife is talking about using it for making some new vests. Three-piece suit, more like!
Day 224
It might be our imagination, but it does look as though there are some little islands emerging around us. Jay said they must be the tops of mountains. Ham disagreed, as mountains have snow on the top. Shem laughed at him. Another squabble ensued. I will be glad to see the back of this lot and have a nice quiet drink when this is all over. Saw another rainbow as the sun was setting – wish I knew what God was up to. Asked, but all was quiet.
Day 264
Jay was right. The islands look much more like the tops of mountains now, although these are no mountains I can ever remember seeing. Not that I ever travelled much.
Still, before all this I was quite a different person I suppose. These things change you.
I released a raven. It didn’t come back; the boys thought it was rather foolish of me, so I let out a dove as well. Poor thing couldn’t find anything it wanted, and got tired, so flew back to the safety of lockdown with the rest of us. I wonder what it saw. Probably should have sent a parrot.
Day 271
Tried another release today with Joanie, my favourite dove. She didn’t disappoint; she returned an hour or so later with a fresh branch of olive in her beak. I realise now that I should have spent the last year training at least one type of bird to retrieve things for us. It would have come in especially handy. I’d love an actual olive. Haven’t had proper fresh food for months.
I’m not upset though. The branch is important – the wife will no doubt stick it in the scrap book.
Day 278
You can’t train a dove in seven days, it turns out. Joanie flew off today and didn’t return. I suppose this is a good thing, but I had hoped she would try and bring some proper fresh olives for us.
The boys are constantly asking how much longer until we leave this place. I’m not sure – still waiting on official guidance on that. Also I need to flatten my curve, as I don’t seem to fit into all my clothes any more. Can’t be seen out looking like this!
Day 314
Must say, it is looking a lot safer out there. Land is lovely and fresh, very few puddles.
Day 370
Lockdown is over – Praise God!
We got official notice today that we could leave here. Also all the animals we brought with us and haven’t yet eaten.
Feels so weird to be back out again.
Some bright spark suggested a barbecue. I thought it would be a good time to honour God for rescuing us from harm, so we sacrificed some animals on there. After the stinky animal pens (and family) it smelt particularly good.
Spent some time praying while the others walked about and when I looked up I saw another rainbow. Felt strangely satisfied. It occurred to me that God will restore the world and will look after all of us – people, animals, plants, everything he has created. I finally realised what the rainbow is about. It is like a gate between harm and salvation, a door from fear to joy. God wanted me to understand that he cares about all living creatures and won’t allow us to be utterly destroyed. He rescued us, even though it took a while and the journey was hard. He has good plans in the days to come and is far more powerful and beautiful than I previously realised. I can see that he was present with us throughout our difficult time.
I still have problems, mind. No idea what to do with the massive pile of remaining toilet paper, now there’s no one to sell it all on to. And my curve hasn’t flattened enough. It’s not going to help that I do think the olives down the hill might now be ready to pick…
Having been instructed in my youth in the ways of old ladies by well meaning toddler group leaders, records and my parents, and suspecting nevertheless that perhaps old ladies were less drawn to the overconsumption of animals which do not belong rightly in a food chain or stomach, and more likely to be well-armed with sass, omniscience and sheer capability in a surprising number of life skills, I considered rewriting the entire ode in a more positive light. I never got around to it until now, because nothing makes me concentrate better than an arbitrary deadline and the need to be heard on subjects of my choosing.
There was an old lady who followed a spy
(I don’t know why she followed a spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady who asked an insider;
She wanted to bug him, (or was it to spider?)
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I don’t know why she followed the spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady who was shaken and stirred;
(She followed the herd – it wasn’t absurd),
She followed the herd to ask the insider,
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I don’t know why she followed that spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady with a collar and hat,
(Some very dark glasses, a bag and a cat);
A collar and hat, to follow the herd,
She followed the herd to ask the insider,
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I still don’t know why she followed that spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady who went the whole hog,
(With a specially trained dog – she went the whole hog);
She went the whole hog with a collar and hat,
A collar and hat, to follow the herd,
She followed the herd to ask the insider,
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I still don’t know why she followed that spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady who could read secret code,
(It was not highway code – she was crossing that road);
She read secret code to go the whole hog,
She went the whole hog with a collar and hat,
A collar and hat, to follow the herd,
She followed the herd to ask the insider,
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I still don’t know why she followed that spy; perhaps she’ll die).
There was an old lady who always knew how,
(She was double-O licensed to knit and ker-pow!)
She always knew how to read secret code,
She read secret code to go the whole hog,
She went the whole hog with a collar and hat,
A collar and hat, to follow the herd,
She followed the herd to ask the insider,
She asked the insider to follow the spy.
(I still don’t know why she followed that spy; perhaps she’ll die).
‘Oh, beer! Beer happytum, laughyes. Here claycakes.’
‘Ow! You get blackbread dayday? Ha!’
‘Blackbread?’
‘Oi, watchdrop please. Not clever dropping here now. You strange dayday.’
‘Nexty nexty.’
And there was evening. And there was morning.
On Wednesday morning the white sun rose above the mountains, baking the bricks, the tools, the flies, before Nim and Ard arrived at the building site. Ard was hobbling and leaning on a crutch. Nim had hardly slept. His wife had been talking nonsense to him all evening.
‘Hoot, onnit?’ Nim said to Ard.
‘Hetta,’ Ard growled back.
‘Lookit yours leghand. Whatisit?’ Nim pointed to Ard’s foot, wrapped in rags.
Ard glared at him.
‘Claycakes me foot givvit, dimboy!’
‘Oh.’
‘Leghand yours paingreat if it now?’
Ard glared again. Nim turned and picked up a brick.
‘Up now woodroad to tippytoppy, mate.’
Ard growled again and started climbing. Nim followed, his bag of burnt bread swinging from his back. He would have to have words with his wife again. What was she thinking letting his bread burn every day this week?
And there was evening. And there was morning.
On Thursday the white sun rose high in the sky, baking the sand, the roofs, the snakes, before Nim got to the building site. Ard was nowhere to be seen. Nim loaded bricks on to the pulley and started climbing the ladder. As he reached the top he stopped for a rest and a quick drink. Nim opened his bag and looked inside. His flask of beer was getting warm. And something else was wrong. There was a stone instead of a loaf of bread. A large white stone. At least it wasn’t burnt, he thought. He took it out, scratched his head and dropped it over the side of the scaffold.
Far below, a cry of pain and indignation rang out.
‘Donkeybread!’ said Nim to himself.He stayed up the scaffold for the rest of the day.
And there was evening. And there was morning.
On Friday, the white sun climbed again and hung, baking the stones, the fields, the dry mouths.
Greetings ladies and gentlemen of discernment and taste! So glad you are here.
Thank you for your interest in our new state-of-the-art luxury Hibernation Stations. Please do shake the snow off your feet, have a warm drink on us and allow us to show you around.
Everybody here? Lovely. And are you warm enough? The log burners are fully controllable and use our very latest app for minimal effort. Has everyone picked up their complementary organic mohair bedsocks? Wonderful!
Welcome then, to our handcrafted, artisan Hibernation Station Pods. Each Hibernation Station can house one person for a whole winter season. This room exudes an essence of frangipani and vanilla. As you can see, each pod is kitted out with all the best in Scandi warmth and hygge. If the bespoke fairy lights are too bright for you they can be adjusted at the touch of a button. Nothing is too much trouble. Do please come in and feel the softness of our leather recliners, angora cushions and silky bean bags in the reading zone. We have chairs of every description; our motto is that ‘everyone can relax in utter comfort’. You choose exactly what is right for you and changes can be made at very little additional cost.
Our comfort handmade fleece blankets come in a wide range of pleasing patterns and colours, specially chosen to co-ordinate and complement all the other textiles in the pod. In the oak bookcases you’ll find a wide range of relaxing books and gentle creative activities, all well-suited to winter living. Should you opt for one of our duo-packages, with space and provision for two people, you will also get a selection of quality slow-play board games.
You’ll see that there are no exterior windows and that there is no wifi access beyond your light and comfort controls. We don’t want the outside world to interfere with your rest. There are no harsh lights, only warm glows. We can supply candles, but these must be kept on the hearth, as within a very short time you will find that you enter a super-relaxed state.
Meals are provided three times a day and have been prepared to the highest standards by our team of international chefs. We specialise in warming soups and stews, roast dinners, freshly baked bread with crispy bacon and our award-winning range of hot chocolates.
Entertainment is not limited only to reading, crafting and listening to soothing music, but we can provide an unlimited number of David Attenborough programmes. We have taken out the nasty bits and any shots where animals die or are unsuccessful in finding a mate. Some are really quite short now. All can be viewed from your cotton-rich bed with quilted duvets, or from the large bubble bath in the en-suite bathroom. Treatments and massages can be arranged to keep your skin and muscles toned without the inconvenience of exercise; leaflets detailing costs can be found at the reception.
Perhaps this is the year Chris Rea will make it all the way home in time for Christmas. We can only hope.
I like to listen in to the lyrics of songs. And, given that ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ is a popular non-religious Christmas song, I found it surprisingly full of hidden biblical references.
Consider the following extracts, and some interesting parallels:
I’m driving home for Christmas
The Israelites had to drive out the nations in the land before they could possess it. But perhaps that is the wrong sense. Think instead of Elisha, driving a pair of oxen as he ploughed a field. Was he driving homewards? Probably half the time. Events overtook him and he changed plans. Like Rea, we are left wondering if there was a satisfactory outcome to this slow march. Unlike Rea, Elisha stopped, killed his oxen, cooked them and feasted with his family, before heading off for a good long time. This seems as close to a portrayal of Christmas as I can find in the Old Testament. A biblical reference about the need for a good feast time with family.
I can’t wait to see those faces
This is clearly a reference to Joseph’s brothers travelling down to Egypt. The phrase ‘seeing’ a ‘face’ occurs five times in this story. The irony of course was that there was a lot of waiting to be done. Christmas always seems like a long wait. Until you reach adulthood in my experience. Then it comes round every twelve months, whether you’ve been naughty or nice. And twelve months come round a lot more quickly than they used to.
Well I’m moving down that line
David in 1 Samuel 17:48, running to fight Goliath. “As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly towards the battle line to meet him.” A reference to the need for proactive Christmas preparations. David already had his ‘gift’ for Goliath and was ready to sling it over to him. Granted, the motive was not pleasant, but it was the thought that counted.
And it’s been so long
An invalid in John 5 had been a very long time waiting for his turn to be healed at the pool of Bethesda. This is clearly a reference to this passage. Jesus heals him anyway, despite it being a non-work day. Which goes to show that the wait is worth it, but you shouldn’t forget those who have to work over the holidays.
But I will be there
This reference is to the consecration of Solomon’s temple, where God tells him in 1 Kings 9:3: “I have heard the prayer and plea you have made before me; I have consecrated this temple, which you have built, by putting my Name there for ever. My eyes and my heart will always be there.” God’s presence is a rather significant part of Christmas.
I sing this song
There are many songs in the Bible, although I think the reference here is to Isaiah 44:23 where even the heavens, the earth, the mountains, forests and trees are all part of the choir. Choirs form a staple of Christmas and trees are now a prominent feature in many places to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Decorated and lit up, they too join in the great song of praise and glory.
It’s gonna take some time
This lyric refers to Nehemiah 2, where the length of his proposed journey from Persia to Jerusalem to shore up the city walls is discussed. Nehemiah is truthful. Partly because he does not have super-speed reindeer (he does have access to a donkey apparently) and partly because he needs an extended leave of absence.
Top to toe in tailbacks
Oh, I got red lights on the run
The levitical laws prescribed dabbing priests’ ear lobes and big toes with blood, which is bright red, just like tail lights. Clearly then, this is a reference to the priestly element of the Christmas story.
Get my feet on holy ground
Moses’ encounter with God at the non-burning bush is the obvious connection here. Rea sings about getting home in these terms, because he wants to be somewhere sacred and familiar. The message of Christmas is that the pitter-patter of little feet brings God nearer than ever before. We have the opportunity to really encounter God and his love ourselves.
And feel you near me
Immanuel, ‘God with us’, the classic Isaiah prophecy recalled at Christmas concerns God’s imminence and presence. Even when apart from loved ones, like Rea we sometimes feel the comfort of knowing they love us. Even when apart from God we sometimes recognise a piece of the divine Love, and when we are close to God we feel those pieces falling into place in our lives.
With a thousand memories
Psalm 105:8: “He remembers his covenant for ever / the promise he made, for a thousand generations”. Not just a thousand memories, but a thousand generations of memories. Which is figurative for ‘a very long time’, but nevertheless reassuring.
So, next time you find yourself stuck in a car, listening to this song on the radio about other drivers stuck in cars, have a think about the lyrics. Maybe there’s more I haven’t even spotted yet. Who knows? Or other Christmas pop songs?
In fact, I’ve gone way over my 500 words target for this week (I hadn’t posted so much lately so this one is longer), so it really is time I left this thought here.
Lucy Marfleet 