mountain masala

"God of Creation" Video

You're welcome to use this in worship, including streaming and inclusion in online recordings of worship services.

Knot Dice available

The Knot Dice that I bought on Kickstarter are finally available to the public from their creator, Black Oak Games.

I bought them to use as a contemplative activity for retreats, but you can also play games with them.

Knot Dice are available here.

"There is a Thin Place"

Another new song. I'm on a roll.

 

There is a Thin Place

There is a thin place
where heaven touches earth
and promises find birth
Be this our place today

There is a thin place
where all Creation sings
and hearts with longing ring
Be this our place today

There is a thin place
where someone lost is found
and futures are unbound
Be this our place today

There is a thin place
where grieving is released
and sorrowers find peace
Be this our place today 

There is a thin place
where we are touched by fire
revived by God's desire
Be this our place today 

There is a thin place
where people gather round
we stand on holy ground
Be this our place today

Craig Mitchell
September 2020

"Spirit of Creation"

Here's a new song lyric.

Spirit of Creation

Spirit soaring o'er Creation
breathing rainbow world to birth
Trinity's imagination
springing joy upon the earth

Spirit sighing in Creation
rising oceans, warming lands
seasons changing, creatures dying
havoc brought by human hands

God, hear our cry for all you've made
renew your world, show us your way
God, hear our cry for all we've marred
transform our lives, change us, we pray

Spirit groaning with Creation
crying for her planet's mess
longing for its transformation
all that's broken to be blessed

God, hear our cry for all you've made
renew your world, show us your way
God, hear our cry for all we've marred
transform our lives, change us, we pray

Spirit weaving through Creation
bringing mending in our hearts
hope restoring in the dawning
joining all that is apart

Spirit praying for Creation
with a plea too deep for words
yearning for shalom that's coming
bringing healing to God's world

God, hear our cry for all you've made
renew your world, show us your way
God, hear our cry for all we've marred
transform our lives, change us, we pray

Craig Mitchell
September 2020

A Tribute for My Brother

Once there was a boy.

He was not like other children. Sometimes he didn't feel like other children.

He was far from perfect. He would be able to do some things well, and some things not very well at all.

But his family loved him deeply, even though he often found this hard to accept.

He doubted himself a lot. He struggled with who he was and who he was meant to become.

He wondered a lot about himself.

But then something happened that would change everything.

In an unpredictable act of love and grace and hope, the boy's parents adopted another boy.

An improbable boy.

Another boy who was not perfect, who sometime felt out of place.

This boy would be able to do some things well, and some things not very well at all.

But his new family loved him deeply, even though he often found this hard to accept.

He doubted himself a lot. He struggled with who he was and who he was meant to become.

He wondered a lot about himself.

And the first boy and the second boy found that they were not alone. They felt much in common. And they were part of the same family who loved them both deeply.

And as they grew, the first boy learned from the second boy. He learned a lot.

He learned to laugh at himself, even when he felt like a dill. He learned to have a go at things that would seem difficult. He learned that parents are there to help you - because the first boy did not much liked being helped by anyone. Mind you, neither did the second boy. In fact, "I can do it myself!" seemed to be an attribute of all of the children in the family.

The first boy learned that who you are is not defined by what you can and cannot do. The second boy began to teach him that your character and your spirit are not defined by your achievements or your failures. Who you are is defined by whose you are.

As they grew older, the first boy and the second boy talked less for a time, and then more, and less, and then more.

At times they learned from one another. At times they encouraged one another. At times they just listened to each other, for the second boy could talk for a very long time. And they felt that they understood one another, deeply.

The improbable boy was the unexpected joy, the unasked for gift, the undeserved redemption, for he brought an honesty of being, a transparency of hope and desire, that unmasked others. He could see through you, but he still wanted to love you. You thought he needed you, but you needed him, even if you weren't sure why.

Don't think for a moment that the improbable boy was a saint, unless saints are there mainly to bother you into letting go of parts of you that you didn't need in the first place.

Service Planning

Today we went to our brother Andrew's church and met with his pastor and talked about his memorial service. Shane was great. I told him that the church reminded me of running monthly youth rallies at Wecker Rd for 2500+ people in the late 1980s. He knew the place well. Later I asked a couple of old friends to help us out with music on the day.

We went to Andrew's unit, mainly just to be there. For me, this brought his absence home more so than the cremation. I 'd stayed there several times, cooked for him a lot and helped him previously when we wasn't well following surgery. We discovered a few gems, and talked about what things of his to place at the service as memories of him.

Thanks to my parents, Andrew was a much travelled man. That's a whole story in itself. But his great love was music and I found the last CD he recently told me he'd bought - Vika and Linda Bull's greatest hits double album. That's going on the memorial table.

Back at Mum's I had a sleep because this exhausts me and I haven't been sleeping well.

I cooked for Mum for the second night in a row. [Two days ago I went grocery shopping for the week ahead. I had been in quarantine for 2 weeks so I went a bit crazy and bought fish heads on sale. I decided to make fish head soup for Anne and I. As you do. Of course, Mum was never going to eat it. The soup turned out to be very ordinary but I have an EPIC photo. Don't mention the eyeballs!]

For most of the evening I have been scanning old papers, including Andrew's adoption papers. The adoption fee in 1965 was 2 pounds 10p. Such a story represented by just a few pieces of paper.

Also old photos, including lots of early stuff from our parents and grandparents. My aunt had sent a photo of their paternal grandmother which is the first one I've ever seen of her. And much more photo epicness.

My good friend David lent me his guitar so that I have something to play during these next few days, as much for my hands as for my heart. Tomorrow brings service planning and talking about a most unique life.

Jan Richardson's words keep speaking to me deeply.

I've been away from Yvonne for 16 days with another 9 to go... sigh.

The Day After

Thanks for the many prayers and good wishes for the first part of farewelling our brother Andrew yesterday.

We had a small family gathering for his cremation that most of the immediate family were able to attend. I don't know what to say except that it was important and difficult stuff for us. I'm not going to go into details here. There were small and larger signs of grace and also some particular challenges in grieving.

We then visited the burial sites of our father and sister. Our brother's grave is elsewhere but of course he was remembered too. I spoke about the crowd of witnesses who surround us.

Most grateful for Brian lending me a decent scanner and I have been going through photo albums today. Of course, that brings its own landscape of emotions.

Tomorrow my sister and I meet with the pastor of our brother's church to plan the memorial service that will take place on the 29th.

We will also go to his unit to start to talk about his belongings.

Still a lot to work through and go through.

Hotel Quarantine - 19 August

 

Day #13 Eastern Quarantime Time. I spent an inordinate amount of time today sorting my things for my imminent release. I completed my Release Form and confirmed my departure details with the front desk. I paced the room most of the day in anticipation of departure.

 

For most of the day I have been conducting a triage consumption of what is in the Hotel Quarantino refrigerator. Perhaps as a result, I'm feeling a bit queasy ahead of tonight's meal delivery. The highlight of the desserts have been Golden North ice creams and today's lunchtime Balfour's Jam Donut.

 

A mercy package of CDs arrived from Ferg today! Steve's coffee has been simply heavenly. I booked a rooftop walk but when the officer arrived to escort me a couple of hours later I did not feel like going, so I made up a feeble excuse.

 

I washed my cloth mask but I may not even need it tomorrow. It would seem that Queenslanders think they are immune and could not care much about social distancing. This genuinely horrifies me.

Tomorrow is the cremation of our brother Andrew at a small gathering of immediate family. I offered to preside/host this brief time of prayer, sharing and Scripture. No pressure.

 

Today I sat and looked out the window a lot. I rewrote what I'll say tomorrow. I answered emails from the crematorium about the internment and plaques.

 

Science fiction and ambient music were a perfect contemplation. Thanks to the Buddhists for sharing their wisdom. To be honest, it's not always what I think or even need, but then neither is the book of Proverbs.

I'm most grateful for messages, phone calls and packages of support and comfort. The grief and bereavement journey is a draining, emotional roller coaster that doesn't get easier. We feel supported, prayed for and loved.

 

If you have read this far, thank you for sharing the journey. in case you didn't realise, my commentary has arisen from a combination of boredom, grief, and a desire to make a tongue-in-cheek reflection on the minor inconveniences of this brief, self-chosen quarantine. Yes, I decided to talk up my woes as a kind of 'letters from prison'. If you missed the humour, I apologise.

 

There are many people in COVID quarantine for whom life is terrible, and many who have been unjustly detained as refugees for years and months. Part of the point of my reflection was to highlight how petty my inconveniences are. Let's turn our hearts and actions to those for whom isolation is hell, and to changing the hearts and minds of those whose actions (or inactions) treat others as less that people of full human dignity and worth.

 

See you on the other side.

Hotel Quarantine - 18 August

Day #279 I now have a neighbour who has been talking loudly on the phone for most of the day. It's doing my head in.

Also, I tested negative for COVID-19.

Two sleeps to go!

 

Hotel Quarantine - 17 August

In quarantine, some words are taking on new meaning. These include "frittata", "ragout", "salad", "compote", and "menu". Also "warm" and "fresh".