We only know her as Julian of Norwich.  She was born in 1343 and when she was 30, she had a grave illness.  She was not expected to live, and was given the Last Rites, but she did survive and went on to write the first book in English by a female author. 

When she was ill she had several ‘shewings’.  Not dreams and not visions, she saw segments of Jesus’s trial, death and rising, whilst Jesus explained the significance of each bit to her.

After she recovered she became an ‘anchorite’.  A room, or cell, was built on to the side of St Julian’s church in Norwich and she entered it.  Then the doorway was blocked off after her.  She never left that cell again.  The cell had two windows, one into the church, so she could take part in services, and one onto the world where people could come and talk to her and bring her food. 

Julian was not a recluse.  People would come and ask her advise about things, and to talk theology with her.  Margery Kempe, a well-known mystic, went to see her more than once, and it is from her writings we know something of her life, including the fact that she had a cat!

Not long after her illness, Julian wrote an account of her ‘shewings’.  Over the next 25 years she rewrote that account, expanding on the meaning of them.  This was finally published as Revelations of Divine Love.

In an age when the Western Church was actively selling ‘indulgences’, where you paid money to be forgiven of certain sins, and pulpits were filled with preachers who did all they could to make the people downcast and guilty, Julian’s theology was radical.  All through both the long and the short book she keeps returning to two main topics:  that of the love of God and the joy He wants us to accept.  Time after time she writes “What was His meaning?  His meaning was Love.”

Would you learn thy Lord’s meaning in this? Learn it well: Love was His meaning. Who shewed it thee? Love. What shewed He thee? Love. Why shewed it He? For Love.

Another phrase which occurs time and time again is “This is His joy and our bliss”.

For we that shall be saved and shall be Christ’s joy and His bliss.

He says: It is a joy and bliss and endless pleasing to me that ever I suffered Passion for thee. And this is the bliss of Christ’s works, and thus he signifies where He says in that same Shewing: we be His bliss, we be His meed [earned reward], we be His worship, we be His crown.

We are used to the idea that Jesus brings US joy, but Julian points out that WE bring HIM joy.  Once you grasp this idea, you will notice the number of references to it in the New Testament, and hopefully you will not ever forget it!

I saw that God rejoices that He is our Father, and God rejoices that He is our Mother, and God rejoices that He is our Spouse and our soul is His beloved Wife. And Christ rejoices that He is our Brother, and Jesus rejoices that He is our Saviour. These are five high joys that God wants us to enjoy; Him praising, Him thanking, Him loving, Him endlessly blessing.

I had intended to put this on my Northern Lace blog, but that is playing up, so it is here!

In Switzerland, and I think in Germany too, Easter is a bigger festival than Christmas.  For a couple of weeks before and after Easter shops have rabbit scenes, Easter egg decorations, and Easter trees.

A few years ago I decided to have an Easter tree.  The basic tree was sold as a Christmas tree, but the ‘flowers’ look like buds – perfect.

The decorations come from Ebay, Lidl and Traidcraft.  Most are either plastic or wood, but some are glass.  The wooden and glass ones are hand painted.

Enjoy!

The Victorians more or less invented the custom of giving cards.  Most Easter cards were sweet and pretty.

However, quite a few I have come across are either odd or downright creepy.  Painting eyes was obviously a problem.

As was getting the proportions of children right.

Then there were the vicious animals.

But worst of all was this one.  Why was the evil child painted with her hands IN the rabbit’s eyes?

I don’t want to leave you with a nasty taste in your mouth, so here is a nice one!

I don’t know how this winter has been for you, but for me 2021 carried on where 2020 left off!

On 1^st January Brexit happened.  No problem.  I had looked everything up, and I didn’t need to change anything.  Just before Christmas I had contacted Business Gateway to check.

What I didn’t know (like a huge percentage of the business population in the UK) was that at 6 pm on 31^st December, the Government uploaded a raft of new instructions, changing exporting rules.  As a result of this I had a choice of either registering for VAT in the UK, or in all the EU countries, or I had to stop exporting.  The rules for non-EU countries were unclear.  Over the next couple of weeks things became clearer:  I had to stop selling from my own website.  After 2 years of sweating blood building up my non-Ravelry and Etsy sales I had no choice but to only use them.

The next big blow was the increase in postage costs.  I was ready to start selling physical books again, so I started looking up postage prices.  UK prices had gone up a bit, the EU a bigger bit, but the Rest of the World prices had almost doubled.  As things stand, my £15 books will cost £19 to post.  In addition, postage prices are going up again in April, and again in June.

I will not bore you with my social media problems, but another new one has cropped up weekly.  Add the problems Microsoft updates have caused, and the ones Ravelry will start causing at the end of March, and I lost the will to live!

However, I am now hoping to get back to normal.  I have several new patterns in the pipeline and I hope to have my Northern Lace Press website up and running again soon.

Watch this space….

(Unusually, I am putting up this same post on both my Northern Lace and God and Dog blogs.)

It was at KSBC that I spent my teenage years.  It was a typical village church, about 3 miles from where I lived.

The church had a tradition of singing.  The was the Male Voice Choir and the Ladies’ Choir who both went out to other churches in the area, and the Mixed Choir who sang at services.

The Male Voice Choir used to join with the many other such choirs for big events, such as the annual Festival of Male Voice Choirs in Bristol, about 30 miles away.  That drew choirs from South and Mid Wales as well as those from Gloucestershire and Somerset.

One year there was a competition between the choirs, which lead to a dilemma for the choir master.  He always let anyone who wanted to join to come in, whether they had a good voice or not.

One of the ‘test pieces’ the choir had to sing had some very quiet sections.  Now, one of the faithful choir members was tone deaf.  In addition, he had no idea how to change the volume of his singing.  This meant that in the quiet sections his drone was very noticeable.  Many members of the choir tried to persuade the choir master to tell this member that they would do better without him, but the choir master was adamant: the drone stayed.

Come the day of the competition, the men got together to drive to Bristol.  All were there, except the drone.  His brother brought his apologies – he had a sore throat and a high temperature so could not come.

The choir brought the cup home.  God works in mysterious ways!

(The photo is from about 1963 or 4 I think.  My father is back right, and the owner of the photo is Kevan Wildy, front left.)

Over Christmas last year Magnus was still down after Eilidh’s death.  I was on the lookout for a female, wheaten if possible.  I was scouring the net, including Facebook.

On 1^st January 2020, Kath posted a pic of newborn pups, including one wheaten girl, to a bitch called Susie, with some of Kath’s bloodlines, with Willow, Kath’s wheaten dog as her father.  As wheaten girls are very much sort after I almost didn’t contact Jess, thinking it would have already been taken, before birth.  On the off-chance I sent Jess a message and by mid day on New Year’s Day, the pup was MINE!!

Over the next 8 weeks Jess sent me photos and videos. 

Meanwhile I sorted out the trip down to mid Wales to collect the pup, now called Inga.  We arrived at Jess’s place in the afternoon.  This was our first glimpse of her in the flesh.

This her in the bottom left, with mum Susie top right.

We took her off for the first night of the journey and she didn’t seem to bother about being on her own.  Steve acted as a toy to play on.

Once home she met Magnus.  He was intrigued with her, and quickly became her mentor, showing her how to behave.  He was very patient with her even when she used him as a stepping stone!

As time went by, her personality appeared.  She is a sweet-tempered dog, and very loving.  She can also be a right little diva when she wants! But you have to love a dog with her heart on her bum! (See the top photo.)

She and Magnus play-fight daily.  They are always careful not to hurt each other, but the noise can be deafening!

Inga’s other great friend is Melon, my son’s young working collie.  He is a month or two older than she is, but they both love playing the same rough games!

As she has got older, her relationship with Magnus has changed.  They are now equals, each looking out for the other.

Here’s to many more years of the same!

This is a true story. I know because I was involved.

In the last days of apartheid in South African, no black man allowed to complete a degree. So missionaries arranged for one young man to spend three months in Germany finishing his theological training. They arranged that he would spend the Christmas holidays with a recently-retired missionary couple in Sussex.

But the German travel agent booked him on a non-existent train to catch a non-existent ferry, and as a result he arrived in Dover docks at 9 pm on Christmas Eve. There were no trains or buses running until Boxing Day.

He rang the folk he was to stay with but there was no reply. He tried many hotels, but none would take him in. By midnight he was sitting on a bench near the coach stop, with his head in his hands in despair.

At that point, a car pulled up by him. It was the local police. They asked him what he was doing there, and he explained. They also tried to contact his hosts, but there was no reply. So they told him if he didn’t mind a hard bed, they could take him to the station, where he could have one of the cells. At least he would have a good meal and be warm! He went with them, and was well looked after.

On Christmas morning he was given breakfast and he asked if there was a Baptist church in the town. It was just along the road from the police station, so he came along to see if there was a service. There was, and he joined us. At coffee after the service he told his story, and it was arranged that he would come home with our family until the trains restarted and we could get in touched with his hosts.

Later in the day we had a phone call from his hosts. It turned out that one of the couple had been ill, and they had been at the hospital when everyone was trying to contact them. When they got home they thought to ring the Dover Baptist minister, and so contact was made. It was arranged that he would stay with us for a few days before going on to Sussex, much to the delight of my two boys, who thoroughly enjoyed showing him round the area!

And the name of this stranger, who found no room at any inn, but who was taken in by thoughtful police?

It was Emanuel.

(First published on my other blog, Northern Lace, in December 2019; pix except for photo are from the web.)

One American custom many UK knitters have embraced is the idea of prayer shawls.  The idea is that they are made for a specific person, and you think about, and pray for, that person as you knit.  The finished shawl gives the recipient a special hug every time it is worn.

A few years ago I was given a prayer shawl by a friend, Jen, in Wales.  It is knitted from Welsh wool and it is close whenever I need a bit of extra warmth.

I recently made a prayer shawl for a friend down in Scotland.  Well, it is more of a shawlette/scarf.  But the idea is the same.

I have various men in my life who would NOT appreciate a shawl.  So I have made them prayer hats!  The idea is exactly the same.

The first was for John, Jen’s husband.  I spun the yarn from Welsh wool and knitted it to one of my patterns from Glorious Gradients.

Hats 2 and 3 were for two more men friends.  George is a city boy, and John a hill walker.  I found two perfect hanks of aran yarn in Felt Fusion’s Etsy shop.  The one for George was called Bad Behaviour and the one for John was Moody Bird!!

This is George’s hat:

This is John’s hat:

And this is a pic they sent me from their Prison Fellowship Scotland office!

Every Scottie I have ever owned (9 of them) has been a maths major in geometry.  This is a very useful skill when hunting prey.

Most dogs (and other animals for that matter) note where their prey is, and run straight  towards it.  After a couple of paces, the dog realises the prey has moved, and they change track slightly to run towards it.  This happens all the time until they get to their prey and can grab them from behind.  The name for this sort of curve is the Curve of Pursuit.  It looks like this:

Scotties do not do that.  Instead they crouch and watch where the prey is heading, and then start out on a straight line to that place aiming to hit the prey on the head or neck.

This means the Scottie has a shorter run, and can bring down prey faster than itself. This sequence of Inga chasing Magnus shows this ability.  Sorry some shots are blurred but they were moving so fast…!