The Not-So-White Stuff

The snow from Tesco's car park looks more like slag heaps where it has been piled in various places.

Today began murky but brightened briefly towards mid-afternoon, the sun slanting through the stained glass window of the church where a special ceremony of remembrance was taking place. Last year one of my close friends lost her grandson in a tragic road traffic accident. Recently her own son's grief was sharply rekindled by a stranger remarking that the boy's spirit couldn't rest because he hadn't been baptised. My friend turned to me and asked if it would be possible for a minister of religion to say some words over a photograph to ensure that her grandson's spirit could be at peace and provide the reassurance her son needed. Thus I was privileged to join with her in a brief but touching memorial service. The person conducting the service drew our attention to how steadily the candle flame was burning. Then a robin caught my friend's attention as it perched at a window stretching its neck to peer in at us - a robin, she explained, holds a special significance for her of another family member's presence. The steady candle flame, the robin, the unexpected sun streaming through the window ... what wonderful testimony or reassurance they gave my friend of a loving God embracing her beloved grandson.