Like everyone I have spoken to, I am devastated by the dreadful situation in Nepal, especially as I was there earlier this month, so I have been in touch with some of the people I met over there.

There is so much to say that I have decided to publish a rather lengthy poem that I wrote  as it tries to tell of the celebrations of the Second Gurkha Regiment, in which I was privileged to attend.

I have underlined the words to stress their emphasis – otherwise it doesn’t scan (sometimes it doesn’t anyway)  It is rather long!


Off we set, upon a jet, to join the Ashleys’ group;

It took much preparation, and they kept us in the loop.

2 GR’s Celebrations we had gone out to attend:

Two hundred years of faithful service – and they are loyal to the end.


We learned to say Namaste – that is their way of greeting;

And bowed our heads with prayerful hands to all whom we were meeting.

I love the colours; the atmosphere; the religious toleration –

(‘twould be good if the affluent West would learn things from this Nation.)


For the first Durbar – hoorah! hoorah! we donned our finest clothes;

There was hot sun in the morning, then heav’n turned on its hose.

Wondrous things had been prepared with bands, parades and staging.

Alas it had to be abandoned - a mighty storm was raging.


But it dampened not our ardour, though we were soaked through,

Happily we’d just begun, and there was much left to do….

Next day we made the journey – seven hours on a minibus

Through the beauty of the foothills of the great Himalayas(s).


There was a Luncheon function when they fed three thousand people;

the unveiling of (the) Memorial Arch by Field Marshall Sir John Chapple.

Sirmoori Medals were presented, and we listened to the Band;

the Queen’s Truncheon* was marched in – for which everyone would stand.

     *The Truncheon is the equivalent of a Regiment’s Colour; hence it’s huge importance


Sirmoori Club Nepal, at Pokhara Exhibition Ground

Was where the next event and excitement could be found!

It was a most important day and nothing was delayed

at the Second Goorkhas’ Two Hundredth Anniversary Parade.

But the icing on the cake and a veritable treat

was when we gathered in the dusk to watch them Sound Retreat.

The Brigade of Gurkhas Band and Pipes marched and played beside

The Nepalese Army Band – they all took it in their *stride.

*The unique double quick march adopted from the 60th Rifles after 1857. 

Huge and fascinating photographs along one end of the (Parade) Ground

Showed their exploits in far countries where their reputation does abound.

Depicting the history of the Regiment in vast pictorial form;

It was beautifully presented, and way beyond the norm.


There were dancing girls, whose skirts did swirl, with each graceful movement;

then some sang, and the mountains rang with music and emotion.

It was poignant and nostalgic, in a magnificent location,

For the great family of Goorkas to host this last and great occasion.



We met signalmen and riflemen and several Gurkha Majors;

I tried to learn the Regiments and all their different stages:

i.e. the joining of Two,  Six,  Ten  and  Seven,

and now there are eight Regiments instead of the eleven.


They fought in Singapore and Brunei, Borneo and Burma;

Afghanistan, the Falklands, Tobruk, and even further.

Prince Harry said: “The safest place is at a Gurkha’s side

in warfare”.  In peacetime too I’m sure ’tis true – this cannot be denied.


For five whole days, in a blissful haze, we enjoyed the celebrations

Of K.E.O Goorkha Rifles, who are drawn from several regions.

All the Gurkha Regiments are held in high renown*

But I sense the “Second Goorkhas” is the jewel in the crown. 

*Having been witness to this historic and unique occasion, the words with which I would describe the Gurkhas are: camaraderie; commitment; courage in battle; discipline;  grace; loyalty; true humility without arrogance; and, last but by no means least: mutual respect and friendship.


The Golfing Day at Ghandrung: ‘twas great fun, but sad no sun…

The teeming rain had come again, before they’d e’en begun.

Poor Ches looked glum and very wet, and Cees was a little better!

But Gerrie’s birdie and her trophies helped defeat the weather.


The Course is picturesque and challenging: one of ten outstanding in the world.

The only pity that day was that umbrellas had to be unfurled.

It was the inspiration of one, Major Rambahadur,

involving sev’ral river crossings, just to make it even harder!


Tiger Mountain Pokhara Lodge, run so ably by Marcus Cotton

Surely we took a voyage nearer heaven when we reached TMLP*

and as I sit here by the pool, there’s NOWHERE I’d rather be.

It’s like a private party, each one doing their own thing,

With Marcus, our most gracious host: attentive and charming.


The only trouble here is that it ’s so difficult to tell

Whether ’tis a Brigadier – or Lieutenant Gener-al

sitting there beside you, quietly drinking in the scene –

Or even a Field Marshal it could so easily have been!


The Chapples and the Duffells, and the Thomases of course –

They’d all been inspirational in gath’ring the Sirmoors –

And yet it was so kind of them to include us in their midst

within the Gurkha family, and make us feel at ease.


The staff were grand, right there at hand, always ready with a smile;

They all seemed absolutely willing to go the extra mile.

I say Hooray to be away from the U.K, pre-election,

especially in this glorious place, which to me is near perfection.


We saw some Himalayan haystacks, and woodpiles two a penny,

and some very simple homesteads, but there were not very many;

It was terraces, not palaces, that we did there espy

and the tilling of the land in true tranquility.

MOUNTAIN MAGIC (Still at Tiger Mountain Lodge)

We had sneak peaks of the mountain peaks when the sun dispersed the cloud,

But you had to be quick to catch these chinks, not always readily allowed.

I gazed around at the awesome sight and basked in Nature’s glory:

How could one wonder or have doubts about Creation’s story?


The mountains and the clouds took turns to fill our view,

Like actors’ entrances and exeunts – when it was their cue.

Suddenly a shaft of light shone down from the sky:

it almost seemed that it was beamed – like torchlight from on high.


Cees went on a three hour trek and saw a cloud of vultures;

Some folk tried to read a bit to learn of other cultures.

Marcia did her painting with impressive dedication

While the rest of us did *‘Hawa Khane’ as if ’twere our vocation!!

We did go on a mini trek, though it wasn’t very long.

Oh! the beauty in these foothills and melodious birdsong.

Who needs quadrophonic sound with all those birds around?

It surely does one’s soul some good to hear those clear, sweet sounds.


Its going to be so difficult to tear ourselves away

From your ever changing mountains – and their dazzle-ing display.

To Machhapuchre the Magnificent, a.k.a. Mount Fishtail,

To Annapurna and Lamjung, soon we have to say Farewell;


To the bulbuls and great barbets, and the white crested laughing thrush.

We heard them all, but to hear them call we had to hush, not rush.

The long-beaked Crimson Sunbird; the minivet with yellow breast

and the green-billed Malcoha were among the rest.


           Then Geoffrey went with Hari – to find Picus quamatus

              That’s the onomatopoaeic name: scaly bellied woodpecker to us!

Of Hari’s orn’thologic(al) knowledge one would simply never tire.

But now you’ll have to be content with the Rhayader Male Voice Choir!!




The importance of Words

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can also hurt me……..

Pain from words has left its scar on mind and heart that’s tender.                              Cuts and bruises now have healed. Its words that I remember.    

Do we realise the power that our words have?  I do not think so.  We are told to be careful of what we wish for which is more or less the same thing.

I have written before about how one can bring blessings on oneself and others, and in the same vein one can invoke curses.  Call it the power of positive thinking or whatever you like. The important thing is not to make it complicated.

I keep thinking of my favourite acronym: KISS (Keep it simple sweetheart) and wonder why things have to become ever more complicated and sensational to make any sort of impact.

I started writing this a few weeks ago but could not get into my Blog for some reason, and have been too busy to try and get it sorted. It is now a bit old, but I shall still write about when I went to Blenheim Palace with some friends…..

We were disappointed to find that the Palace itself was shut until next week, but happily it was a beautiful day so we had a glorious walk in the winter sunshine.  We were amazed to see a galaxy of huge lorries, vans, lighting systems with so many wires going for what appeared to be a long way; endless cars and people buzzing around all over the place.  We were not allowed anywhere near the entrance because whatever was going on seemed to be happening near there, and we were diverted by a poor man who had to stand in the intense cold just to steer people away.  We finally talked to a technician because it all looked rather exciting and terribly important: a blockbuster at least, and of course we would go and see it when it comes out.  Perhaps Eddy Redmayne or Judy Dench would suddenly appear!

On asking what it was all about, to our surprise we were told that it was just an advertisement for a film.  What I suppose I would call a trailer. Has the world gone utterly mad, I ask myself? or am I just an old fashioned, narrow-minded fuddy duddy?  Yes I expect I am, but did they really need all that excessive and expensive to make an advertisement?

Perhaps they don’t know the acronym KISS.  Or even the importance of words rather than endless images that seem to fill our waking moments.

Ah well!



A Blessed New Year

I have had a glorious two weeks and have so many good things to lock away in the memory bank.  Some wonderful Welsh Carol Services of varying tastes and talents: my favourite always is in a very small church in the garden of some dear friends.  Somehow it, the church, seems to expand, adorned in its Christmas finery to seat a good number of people, and I am sure that that the Service is just what God likes, as they always manage to blend simplicity with a certain sophistication – truth and beauty.  When the door opened in the middle of the Service I wondered whether Jesus was going to come in, but He was certainly there in the Spirit, and I felt truly blessed and I am sure that others did too.

Then we had four very happy days of family Yuletide, orchestrated serenely by my daughter-in-law who coped with us all including five teenaged grandchildren, and never a cross word.  A great deal of food and laughter and fresh air and fun, including a trip to see the film Paddington; what joy to have something that all ages thoroughly enjoyed.

Then a long drive to Devon where I spent an equally happy couple of days with more family, including four other grandchildren, so it has been a very special time. I am now back in my winter home, picking up the threads and rather enjoying a few days peace and quiet, giving in to a cough and cold, which has allowed me to go through my Christmas card list which normally gets sidelined.  Much as I have enjoyed the past fortnight, it is a relief to get back into some kind of routine, and dare I say it, a step back into things spiritual. In spite of the wonder of the Yuletide message it seems that the parties and festivities crowd out any spiritual routine I try to follow which I hasten to add is never adequate.

At supper with a friend last evening she gave me the excellent article by Austen Ivereigh about Pope Francis which has given me enormous hope and encouragement.  I hope I shall not be in breach of copyright if I quote some of the things he says, because I do feel that it is worthy of note.  Personally I am of the opinion that we are incredibly blessed in these times to have a remarkable Monarch who walks with the Lord, an Archbishop of Canterbury who has a real grasp of worldly matters but is such a truly spiritual man, and not least this amazing Pope in Rome.

Surely anyone who listened to the Queen’s Christmas broadcast must have been struck by her plea for reconciliation; Ivereigh speaks of the Pope’s yearning for the separation of Christians to end, how a “miracle of unity” – the work of the Holy Spirit – had begun …. When we try to create unity through our own human designs, he warns, we end up with uniformity and homogenisation….which leads to schismyet if we let ourselves by led by the Spirit, richness, variety and diversity will never create conflict, because the Spirit spurs us to experience variety in the communion of the Church.  Later he says that building bridges of trust and reciprocity that open up new spaces for God to act, and that their shared baptism, and openness to the Holy Spirit, are enough; that they shouldn’t wait for theologians to agree before acting and witnessing. 

I hope we can hear the people say Amen. Surely reconciliation and unity are the best of bedfellows.

The Pope told an audience in St. Peter’s Square in May that Peace is not mass produced, but handcrafted by individual artisans.  “That is Pope Francis’ own genius”, suggests Ivereigh: “building relationships of trust that create spaces for the Holy Spirit to break through what seems humanly impossible”.


If anyone can think of a better New Year message, please let me know.








What a great summer – and autumn as well, and I am still making the most of this mild weather to go on in the garden.  However the winter evenings have drawn in and so back to the blogging.

I have a very good Bible commentary by David Pawson and I was struck by what he had to say about the book of Daniel, which I have been reading lately.  We all know (I hope) about the Lion’s Den, but do we know anything else much about Daniel?  Pawson says this: ‘Daniel makes unique predictions that are so detailed, so dated in sequence and so accurate in the light of historical evets that it’s simply history written down before it happened.  So every reader is faced with the question of whether the future is known by God.  The Bible makes it clear that God not only knows the future but also shapes it.’ 

Thus we are faced with that knotty old problem of predestination.  How much is predetermined?  We must not say that everything is, as if we are robots.  As Pawson says, there’s a delicate balance in Scripture between divine sovereignty and human responsibility.  I like his idea of imagining that one is playing chess against a master player: he would win, but I am free to make any moves I want to .  So every move I make he can match, and he will win.

God has more free will than we do, so our freedom is limited by His.  It is important to know that there is a flexibility in God’s sovereignty that we should hold very precious, lest we slip into the idea that everything is predetermined, and we do not matter.  Would we not become rather passive and probably lazy if we felt that we were just here on earth as puppets?  Of course we have to make our own decisions.  So that brings us to the important matter of choice.

I seem to remember that Margaret Thatcher, when asked what she thought was the most important question about religion/spirituality, apparently without a second’s hesitation said ’choice’.  Perhaps she is right.  But there are other things too.  Maybe we will explore them  in my next blog, but I have lovely story to tell – a true one so I hope it doesn’t have copyright restrictions.  Watch this space.

Since I wrote this, ten days ago, I have been so busy outside that I never posted it.  Now the frost has come which is rather good; we need some cold weather to kill the bugs.


Ancient or Modern?

Are you one of those people who think that because something is modern it cannot be good?  My dear deceased Mother was a bit like that which I found regrettable, although inevitably as I race through my eighth decade I am probably getting more and more like her! but I do think there are some excellent modern inventions and it is perhaps worth noting one or two.

I went to see the film Noah last week, and I thought it was brilliantly portrayed (I could have done without a totally non biblical story line about Cain, but I suppose they have to spice things up a bit.)  I felt that it was a wonderful example showing the best of ancient and modern: the former of course supplied such a gripping story that would have been quite unbelievable if thought up by man, after all fact is often stranger than fiction.  The latter used the astonishing modern technology that is now available for making sensational films, and the result was stunning, I thought.

What else benefits from such a merger?  I suppose many things that we use daily and take for granted, but one example that illustrates the point is the climbing of Everest.  I am particularly interested in this because Tom Bourdillon (a cousin of my late husband) was not only part of the successful 1953 expedition, but he and Charles Evans would have been the first men up if their oxygen had held out.  It was staggeringly difficult to make the ascent in those days – of course, being unchartered territory made every stage an incredible challenge but just think of the clothing and materials used in all the equipment.  In those early days they had nothing to keep them warm other than heavy woollen and tweed garments which took days to dry out; everything they used must have been so cumbersome.  Nowadays with nylon, lycra and all the modern materials available of course it is an incomparable quest to make.

I expect anyone reading this has there own examples of the good of ancient compared to modern: it would be interesting to hear them.


Should we be quiet in church?

I have recently been to a beloved granddaughter’s Confirmation which was a delight and beautiful in every way except the noise of the chatter of the congregation not only before the Service, but actually during it, while people were taking communion.

I had an interesting debate with my son after who said that he couldn’t see the problem, and after all the Bishop had given a very good talk about God not being a killjoy, so what was I worried about? –  if I wanted to be quiet that was up to me.  I know that God is most certainly not a killjoy, and I go to many services where we worship Him in a loud and joyous way.  I particularly love the last words of the Harnhill Friday morning service: Go in peace to love, to serve and to ENJOY the Lord.  I have no difficulty in worshipping God in diverse ways, but I don’t think we made a very good job of it last week.

All my long life I have been conditioned to be quiet during a traditional church service, and old habits die hard. Gone are the days when one arrived at church a little early for a Communion service so that one could be quiet and prepare oneself.  My concentration is not strong enough to spend a little quality time with my Maker when the decibels all around are comparable to a loud cocktail party.  It could in no way be described as holy whispers!

It was a glorious service in a very beautiful church; the girls being confirmed were lovely and behaved in an exemplary fashion; the Bishop and all officiating performed their roles likewise.  It was we, the older generation(s) who, I felt, let the show down…   My son suggested that even fewer people would go to church if we mind about these things.  I think perhaps he is right.  What does God think?

My mother was a great one for preserving standards.  Happily I am far too lazy to worry about many things that used to be considered important in polite society.  Instead I call them priorities and often let them slip.  I love many modern ideas and institutions, but I do think that we have to discern when we  should stand firm and not  ‘dumb down’ things that weaken old fashioned morals and principles. Actually I don’t think God minds how we behave in church as long as our hearts are right, and it is far more important to have a good relationship with Him.  Even so, on this particular occasion I think it would have shown respect to the girls and the importance of what they were doing to have kept the noise down.

What do others think?


Has spring sprung?

It is a beautiful spring-like morning.  I have just been to early church to hear a friend preach an extremely good sermon on Romans 5 verse 15.  Afterwards, over a welcome cup of coffee, I met a delightful couple who knew my son slightly and are going to get in touch with me, and a wonderful older lady who is going to come and have coffee during the week if we can arrange it.   .

Well what is so special about that?  It is special because I came to Oxford three years ago knowing only three people.  Two were quite old and the other quite young.  Thus I knew absolutely no-one of my own age.  What I did not know was that Oxford is a difficult place to get to know people: I have no contacts with the ‘gown’, and the ‘town’ – in this case North Oxford – is fairly unfriendly. Everyone has their own busy life to lead, so why should they suddenly want me to become part of it?  John and Diana Collins were my constant advisers, friends, companions, mentors.

However, there are times when I feel that things are getting better.  My lifeline has been the incredible Bible Study group that dear Diana Collins kindly arranged for me to join.  What a blessing that has been: they are a truly wonderful group of Christians who meet together once a week to study the Bible. I am getting to know and love them, both corporately and individually.  One of their number asked me to dinner three years ago, after the first meeting that I went to; I think without her kindly outstretched hand I should have caved in altogether.

That is why I am feeling so happy this morning, because I have come to know a few people whom I can now call friends.  I don’t know most of my neighbours, but one couple have become really good friends, and the wife introduced me to a splendid Keep Fit class which is fun; also some old friends have moved nearby which is a great joy; and others I have met at St. Andrew’s church, through which I helped with an Alpha group last year, and met some lovely people there.  It is such fun mixing with people of all ages, and I must mention a most engaging new friend: Charlie, who was born last August – and his parents are very special.

So I am praising the Lord mightily on this glorious morning, although I must admit to a yearning to be back in Wales tending my garden as the weeds will be waking up to the spring.  I shall be back there at the end of the month when the daffodils will wave their welcome and the lambs will be skipping around.  I hope that March does not go out like a lion.  Last year I returned to my mountain fastness on 31st March, and drove straight into a deep snow drift in my valley.  That is why I have a 4 x 4, but it couldn’t cope with the depth of snow.  It is so good to have Easter to look forward to, but we are now in the season of Lent, and Calvary has to be endured before the glory of Easter Sunday.

I am so very blessed to have two different lives: my glorious rural existence in the hills of Wales all through the summer, and then in the autumn I shall look forward to returning to Oxford to pick up the strands about which I have just written.



Gilt-edged failure

Funny title!  I spent some quality time last week chatting to a dear girl whom I admire greatly.  They appeared to me to be the perfect family – even with teenagers living at home which is quite a feat!

Of course when one starts to talk in depth, problems and difficulties are aired, because at the end of the day no parent ever gets it right.  I hope that this is a comfort to anyone who has survived the rigours of watching their family growing up.  However much fun and love and joy one experiences, it is not an easy task.  There are so many pitfalls, and as ones children reach the teenage years one has to take a back seat and let them go into the big, wide, wicked world.   It is so hard to keep the door open and not mind if they don’t walk back through it: not easy to do.  The most important thing is to allow them the freedom to fail.

This is not meant to be a treatise on parenthood, but I have recently had the pleasure of watching several of my grandchildren prepare for their important exams in the summer, and how they manage to cope with the vicissitudes of growing into adulthood.  I am a very bad grandmother and constantly tell them not to worry about their exam results (I would not do this if they were not extremely vigilant and hardworking!) but I do think that these days the pressures are too much for many youngsters. They are expected to put a great deal into school life which of course is good; they often play in teams and sometimes have two matches a week; they have responsibility thrust upon them, which again is good, but sometimes it is simply too much.  Their CV hangs like a huge cloud  over them so that they push themselves to do the Duke of Edinburgh Awards Scheme and other such activities, maybe just to look good on the CV.  I know travel is good, but one of mine has just been to Bolivia for ten days at half term.  Yes, it is a wonderful experience, but she is exhausted and will remain so until the holidays – and even then she (and others) will no doubt be given endless revision and homework to do.  Where have the carefree school ‘holidays’ gone? when they could switch off and not worry about mocks or school exams, let alone common entrance, GCSEs, A levels and University choices.

I can hear you muttering disdainfully as you read this.  I am all for people working hard, but there must be time and opportunity for rest and relaxation, also for parties and fun and carefree irresponsibility.   One of my daughters went into an A level exam in her pyjamas because she had been up half the night revising, and another had a serious riding accident during her O levels and missed a whole term at school.  That was when I realised that there was more to life than exams, although amazingly she did manage to get good results, but all I cared about was that she was alive.

This rather lightweight blog is to be taken with a sense of humour, a pinch of salt and not to be read by any sluggards.  I was prompted to write it when I saw an old (boarding) school friend last week who made me laugh by saying that she was removed from school in the term before her A levels because her father had no one to go hunting with.  She is now a well known artist, but probably doesn’t have a great deal on her CV!  None of us did, but we have mostly had wonderful lives, (and are now galloping through our seventies.)

P.S I am extremely proud of all my eleven grandchildren – I must just mention that I have a grandson in Hawai’i who got a scholarship when he was only two!!



We are so blessed

I have been stopped in my tracks, it seems, by something rather more than a cold.  Maybe a clarion call to go a bit slower because I know I have been too busy this year.  So I have decided to enjoy this little setback and put the time to good use.

First I have been able to concentrate my mind on finishing John Collins’ amazing book, which he has called A Diagram of God’s Love.  He so generously gave a copy to each family who attended his beloved wife Diana’s beautiful Service of Thanksgiving recently, thus it is holds a special resonance for me, and I am enjoying it enormously.  He explains so cleverly the presence of the Holy Spirit, which alas is something that many Christians cannot grasp.  Although I knew a good deal of what he said, it seemed to show me certain things under a spotlight so that I could see the depth and meaning of the message so much more clearly.  One thing that struck me is that God’s blessing is conditional: if you repent you will be blessed.  It is as simple as that.  I spent so long (after committing my life to Christ) taking it on board that God’s love for us is totally unconditional, that this came as a bit of a shock. 

It is important to understand fully that in the Old Testament the Holy Spirit was only visited upon prophets, priests and kings, but now it is for everyone who wants it.  This is so important to grasp: if you don’t believe me please look at Joel, chapter 2, verse 5.

I had made scribbled notes in my Bible which seem pertinent to mention, especially as John’s book tells us a great deal about the Holy Spirit being available now…  Something more than material prosperity lies in the future.  There is also going to be spiritual prosperity for everyone.  This comes as a direct result of the goodness of God, and as a consequence of the repentance of the people.  It is not limited by social status, by gender or by age.  And later:

A prophet is only a prophet if it comes true.       Joel’s prophecy came true 8 centuries later.

How amazing is that? To think that on the Day of Pentecost Peter knew exactly what Joel was referring to eight hundred years before: the Holy Spirit had been poured out on all flesh.

So, here we are at Christmas time remembering the birth of our blessed Saviour.  Let us reflect on how fortunate we are to live in this age of the Spirit which means that we no longer live under the old law, but under grace.  So I say again, as John did in his book, that:  God would pour out His spirit on ALL mankind – that is, anybody who is open to receive the Spirit of Jesus’.  It was only by Jesus coming to earth that made this possible.



Who will throw the first stone?

It is so good to be back blogging again, and I have just had an audio interview with an U.S. publishing house to promote my Hope in the Valley book in America.  So I hope that will spread the word about the book.  I was much encouraged when staying with a lovely cousin last weekend: we saw her Mother-in-law at church and she remembered that she had been given a copy of Hope in the Valley when her husband died a few years ago.  She said that she had been given several books and none of them helped, except mine, so I was very chuffed about that.  So if you know anyone who has been bereaved, why not send them a copy?  You will find it on my Website and can order it online.

Something has struck me very forcibly just lately: the tragic situations that young mothers used to have to face if they produced an illegitimate baby.  I recently read an extremely good book, very well written by someone who lives near me in Wales, which gripped me from the moment I started to read it.  It tells a piteous tale of how an illegitimate baby was literally torn away from an innocent young girl by her brother; he was not brave enough to stand up to his mother who said that the family would be shamed if they kept the baby.

It is almost impossible for young girls nowadays to understand what a dreadful stigma it was to produce a baby out of wedlock, and how the whole family was totally disgraced and shunned by friends and neighbours alike.  The advent of the contraceptive pill has of course changed everything, and yet there are still unwanted babies being born.  How fortunate are the young mothers of today to be allowed to keep their babies and to bring them up, whether they are married or not – and nobody even castigates them…

Then I went to see the wonderful film Philomena in which Judi Dench plays the part of a young mother with her usual brilliance and pathos.  Here it was again: the same agonising tearing away of a very small child.  I don’t think anyone could failed to have been moved by the sight of the wretched young mother screaming as her beloved son was taken away for ever.  It was made even worse by the fact that the poor young girl was in a convent run by unsympathetic and cruel nuns who most certainly did not live as Jesus would have  wanted.  Remember how He said ‘If anyone one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her’.  If you don’t know the story, look at John’s Gospel, chapter 8.

In both these cases the mother was not even allowed to say goodbye, let alone be told where the child was being taken; very often they were sold and sent abroad.  It is heartbreaking to think what those poor girls had to endure, and sometimes through no fault of their own.

Praise the Lord.

If you think I am being melodramatic and given to exaggeration, then you are not old enough to know that such things happened in real life all the time, and just be thankful that we have moved on from such traumatic and unChristlike behaviour.  Think about it.