We had a great day on Saturday.
There were seven of us gathered at Linne Bheag for our first 'Introduction to the Enneagram' course on a lovely spring morning. True, the weather deteriorated, but the quality of company and chat only improved as the day progressed.
Unusually, everyone present had a smattering of knowledge of the enneagram system but most had no idea of their own personality type. So the day was exciting, slowly pealing off the multi-coloured masks they had all been wearing for years and beginning to see the beautiful qualities each had been hiding away.
We 'unmasked' and discovered a lovely FOUR - creative, gentle, wise. Two SEVENs also recognised their true selves and laughed with great appreciation to discover that their gluttony for living was actually a personality type! They brought us much laughter throughout the day. And we had an EIGHT - not the scary type of EIGHT but a grown-up, mature, lovely person who has discovered her power in giving and attending to others and is full of love and life.
Last, but certainly not least, we had a couple, married for about a hundred years and both TWOs. Now that is something you don't find every day. A double TWO couple! TWOs are the helpers of the enneagram, the givers, whose whole lifestance is towards the other's happiness and success. That sounds like a winning formula to me! And it was a real pleasure to share the day with them.
So we had fun, gained insights, went away wanting more and with a spring in our steps.
Maybe you will join us for the next one!
Yes, cute and cuddly he may look but I know different! The photograph is of my grandson Aidan, who has just endured the misfortune of having me - Grannie the Great - to look after him. Along with his sister Skye, aged 4, they have been under my 'guardianship' while their poor Mum coughed, sneezed and vomited her way through Holy Week and into Easter weekend.
Now you may feel that this particular grannie sounds ever so callous. Not so. I endured snotty noses being wiped over every item of clothing I possessed, allowed myself to be covered in what Daughter no 3 calls 'granny ming', did the dirty nappy thing with speedy efficiency and even managed to cook the odd meal. And all with patience, calm and love! Honest!!!
Then Grandpa arrived on his white charger, threw Grannie the Great up behind him, slipped a disc or two, and rode off into the sunset in the general direction of Melrose, to give Grannie the Great a wee rest at the ancestral home of Brother and Sister-in-law.
And that would have been lovely if Grannie the Great hadn't decided to succumb to a fit of the vapours and throw up all over Sir Walter Scott's ancient carpet at Abbotsford House, sending the caretakers, as well as the said Grandpa, Brother and Sister-in-law into an orgy of worry! The caretaker did say that since Sir Walter had frequently held drinking parties of the wildest kind in that very room, it was probably not the worst mess the carpet had ever seen!
So poor wee me! After a week of caring toil I was whipped into Borders General Hospital in a Casualty-style rescue and poked and prodded, x-rayed and de-blooded, enduring valiantly to the end. It was thought to be a good idea that I should stay in overnight so that they could send me upstairs and allow another gaggle of doctors to do something similar the next day.
However, Grannie had learned a few tricks from Skye! She said 'no' very firmly, risking the wrath of Grandpa, Brother and Sister-in-law as well as the lovely Dr Moe, got dressed, signed a disclaimer(!!!) and left A&E, stubbornly disregarding the awful pain that was trying to break out from under her ribs.
But interestingly - and clearly this was too simple for the medical staff - once I got back to Melrose and swallowed two Rennies, I felt almost instantly better!
All well, eh! The lengths we go to to get a day in bed! Anybody's bed will do. Even a trolley in a corridor of BGH.
Incidentally, I discovered that Sir Walter Scott had died in that very same room. Spooky, huh?
As weather goes, we have got off very lightly here in the east! Elsewhere there are high tides, high winds, floods and downpours. Devon and Cornwall are really bad and Wales little better.
Here in Anstruther, the sun is splitting the sky, the tide is crashing over the harbour wall and my washing is competing with the wind to see who can reach Scandinavia first. It is so beautiful!
It brings out the best and the worst in the locals. Rushing down to the post box this morning I had to lean into the wind to make any progress against it. One man lost his hat. Another complained loudly that never has a winter been quite so bad. But the woman in the post office waxed lyrical about the seagulls hanging on the top of the wind and the lightness and playfulness she felt in the teeth of the gale.
It reminded me of the best of Celtic spirituality. The ancient Celts believed that God was in the breath and therefore in the wind. Imagine that. As we stand in the gale, leaning into it and feeling it against us, we are actually leaning into the presence of God. As we stand at the bus stop and feel the whirl of the wind skittering around us, could it be that God is there, playing with us, reminding us of his closeness, wrapping us up in a great big hug?
When I brought in the washing - no easy task! - it all felt so soft. All hardness had been well and truly blown away and I put folded towels into the airing cupboard till I needed them. They will wrap around me in the morning when I come out the shower.
If God is in the wind, will he have that effect on me too? Soft, pliable, comfortable? A pleasure to be with?
Hmmmmm........I wonder?!
I don’t remember when I last had such a tiring weekend. There was so much and everything needed done immediately. I was constantly juggling and chasing my tail. Demands were flying at me thick and fast. I couldn’t understand what was required half the time. I was translating and second-guessing and pulling ideas out of the air. The schedule was tight and I never seemed to have the necessary information when I needed it.
This had been my one chance. My opportunity to shine, to prove that after all the years of training, I could do this job. Not just adequately, but brilliantly. I wanted it all to look effortless! For people to marvel and say, “I just don’t know how you do it!” or “Isn’t she wonderful!”
And now, on Sunday night, I am a wreck. Exhausted. Stressed out. A failure. And I agree with the Psalmist who said,
“Why am I so sad? Why am I so troubled? I will put my hope in God and yet again I will praise Him!” (From the book of Psalms no 42;11)
And I WILL praise Him again – once I have recovered, once the energy begins to flow again. Even if the weekend was not the brilliant success I expected it to be. Even if it has now been proved that I am no longer the epitome of efficiency that I once thought myself to be. Even if I seem to be past it forever. Even if…………..yet still, I WILL praise Him again. Hurrah and halleluiah!
Oh……….and you may be wondering what I was doing at the weekend. I was looking after my two lovely, very special grandchildren for two nights! Skye is four and Aidan is ten months. Peter and I toiled long and hard, almost passed out from sheer exhaustion on Saturday afternoon while waiting for the seals to be fed in St Andrew’s Aquarium. But we made it.
And, you know, thirty years ago we thought we weren’t going to have any children. So this weekend was living proof of the good things that God gives us. Yes, we are old and past our best but we absolutely love having our two gorgeous wee ones. So, like the Psalmist………sad, troubled, exhausted? Who cares?! We will yet again praise God, and be thankful for all our gifts!
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