Scotland -- Day Three

Failford Inn for soup (cumin & parsnip - tasty) and crusty bread and warming up after a good hike (what my friends would call a walk – I’m left wondering what the difference is and am thinking that hike, suggestive of the more strenuous, is for old chubby out-of-shape gals like me to describe the amiable stroll my younger and more fit companions and I were enjoying) . . .

We walked to Peden’s Cove, the site of Alexander Peden’s preaching from one of the Covenanters’ pulpits – apparently there are at least three locations referred to as Peden’s Pulpit – places from which Prophet Peden illegally preached, which raises an interesting question – how can preaching the gospel, especially in a land claiming to follow that self same gospel, be illegal?  Who ‘owns’ the rights to The Word?  Who gets to mediate what can be said and by whom it can be said?

With all these high and lofty religious thoughts swimming around about my head, I am minded of more pressing things, like the love of a mother for her children – as I watched Liz walking arm-in-arm with daughter Zara and then side-by-side with son Ruaridh . . . I watch and listen and smile . . . and ponder . . .

How do you explain to the golden child stretching his wings and preparing to leave the nest how she hungers for him . . . for time spent with . . . for words of sharing from . . . how do we explain to these creatures we spawned in a way they can understand that their absence from our lives is a physical loss and that the hunger their absence creates is one filled only by their presence?

It was a good day today – children present, safe, and hungers held at bay – for a time.