Sunday and the Herring Pond

The early morning air was calm.

The tide was in. The sea calm.

Just the time for a quick dip in the Herring Pond, 

Portstewart’s classic natural rock swimming pool 

The sea was lapping at the top rungs of 

the ladder going down into the sea.

The joy of yet another day in which 

to wake and value the life I’ve been given. 

The fresh chill of the water around me, the depth below, the swirling of seaweed.

A deep sense of being alive and awake to God and his world.

A prayer of thanks to this God of the sea, the rocks

and the amazing expanse of sky.

And a quick word to the Pond - 

“I’ll be back this evening to taste your briny waters again”

Part hopeful, part an appeal to the restless water, part prophetic? Well  ,, just maybe.

The thing was - I’d be called up once again this Sunday morning, for further tests in Belfast Hospital, with the strong possibility that, if things have not improved, I would need to be admitted for a few days for observation and to have an increased dose of steroids administered intravenously. 

So, not looking forward to that prospect at all, but nevertheless ready for whatever the day might bring. Anna and I headed off to the city early, so that we could attend worship somewhere in Belfast before checking in at the hospital. It was a delight to visit Windsor Presbyterian Church, and see how a truly  multicultural community has grown up under the leadership of Ivan Steen reflecting the changing urban demographic of Northern Ireland. Worship led by a Mongolian girl, translation into Farsi, and a video report and prayer by a Guatemalan. 

So, off to Hospital next. Things are very quiet on a Sunday noon. Blood test taken. Then to wait. And wait.. And pray over the phone. With Audrey and Tom. And to wait some more.. And then at last to hear the welcome words. “Well, your results are marginally improved. So, it’s okay for you to go home, but we will need to keep closely monitoring your condition.” Relief. And praise to God, as we drove back through an increasingly grey afternoon.  By the time we got back to Portstewart, and my walk down to the Herring Pond, the rain had set in for the night. 

So, the promised dip had to wait till the next morning!