Whitby Weekend: Third time lucky…

It was more than six years ago that Stuart and I first, unsuccessfully, tried the door at St Andrew’s church in Middleton, North Yorkshire. We had tried since then too, the last time we were in the area. And we really didn’t hold out much hope of getting inside this time either… but as we were passing and had a little time to spend with Gary before our ways parted, we thought we would give it another go.

At first glance, the church looks like many other medieval parish churches across the land, but a closer look at the tower shows it to be something a little bit special. The base of the tower is Saxon and a church has stood here since the early days of Christianity in the region…well over a thousand years. The blocked up doorway in the tower dates to a thousand years ago, while the Anglian Cross set into the wall above it is around thirteen hundred years old. We knew these were not the only treasures though…and we really wanted to get inside.

Stuart turned the handle… and the door in the eight hundred-year-old porch failed to open. We had expected nothing else to be fair. As a matter of habit, I tried it too…just in case. These ancient doors sometimes yield to a different touch, but not this time. It appeared we were out of luck once more and the elusive church would keep its secrets. On impulse, I suggested that Gary try the handle… and this time, it seemed, the right touch was his. The door swung open and, after years of trying, we finally crossed the threshold. Sometimes, not only the touch but the time must be right.

The interior of the church was brightly lit as some of the parishioners were decorating the tree for Christmas.

It is a plain and simple church… but again, only at first glance. The nave, the main body of the church, is early Norman, around nine hundred years old. The beautifully proportioned arches were rebuilt in the thirteenth century and the chancel, in fourteenth-century style, was added in the nineteenth century.

The capitals of the Norman pillars are finely carved, with a lion mask, that looks much more like a dragon, set into the southern wall of the nave.

There is a squint through which those in the side chapel would have been able to see the raising of the Host during Mass, but which now gives a glimpse of a wonderful piscina that now holds a carved wooden replica of a Viking stone, but its real glory is the serpent carved in stone around it.

The font has a fifteenth-century cover; there were often locked and chained to protect the holy water they contained. Like the piscina… the basin that allowed surplus wine and holy water to be given back to the foundations of the building … this was done to protect it from being used by witches.

The chancel is simple and, had we been alone in the church, I would have looked for the carved misericords under the seat of the choir. Instead, I contented myself with photographing the east window above the altar, showing the crucifixion.

The other windows were beautiful, showing Jesus as the Shepherd, or with the little children. Many of the windows are in the Arts and Crafts style and I loved the colours in the window showing Faith and Hope.

The hammer beam roof of the chancel is decorated with carved bosses and has the solid and comfortable look of many old village churches, but the pulpit from which John Wesley once preached is quietly elegant. Sadly, we were told, the roof outside was in a far worse state as the lead had been stripped and stolen. St Andrews is one of many churches to suffer this kind of vandalism.

But, lovely as it is, it was not for the church itself that we had come. The northern aisle holds a treasure trove of carved stone… and oddly enough, I was to learn that had we been able to get in on that first visit, the best of them was away on loan to the British Museum. Which just goes to show, sometimes you only get things right by ‘accident’…

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Hallowing ~ Deborah #writephoto

Silently in a momentary hiatus

from this past year’s journey

I reflect on blessings received

and give offerings of gratitude

Continue reading at A Wise Woman’s Journey

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Smile #midnighthaiku

*

Fair weather or foul

Finding within the courage

To answer a smile

*

Wishing you all a Happy New Year.

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A Light In Your Darkness ~ Jan Malique

Reblogged from strangegoingsonintheshed:

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Dhivakaran S · urappakam at Pexels

I wasn’t planning to make this my last post for 2019, but it appears His Nibs (Anubis) and Heru-ur (Horus the Elder) have other ideas. The time has come for a journey into the heart of a desert on the fringes of the imagination. One might question the necessity of such an act, indeed, even urge caution. Regardless, there’s a story waiting to be told and a visionary journey to enact.

The creative well is very low, so you can understand the urgency of my task. Yet, the Waters of Life have begun flowing through veins, the tributaries of my inner landscape, in readiness for a new beginning. That’s the hope. The two elder gods sit on either side of me, watching intently, knowing what the outcome will be. They always know what lies at the end of whatever road I take. As for this journey, let’s see what unfolds.

Continue reading at strangegoingsonintheshed

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The New Innings ~ Sitharaam Jayakumar #writephoto

We saw the small child every day when my wife and I went for our morning walk. The child had long hair and always wore the same patched, flowing robe. She looked like a fairy from heaven in that robe. We were both very fond of the child. She was like a princess who was aching for her loved ones.

Continue reading at Jai’s Jottings

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Keys of Heaven (6): the greater force ~ Steve Tanham

The greater force... What did they know of it!

Anyone could see it in the fall of boulders in the mountains; in the crashing of the seas on the rocks, in the burning of the forests when the wildfires took hold; in the legends of the earth boiling and glowing when the ground ruptured…

But only a few could see it at work in the eyes of men… and some women, thought King Oswiu, looking across the chamber at Abbess Hild, seated across the square of the small, altar-like table in the chamber at the Abbey of Streanshalch, facing her fellow warrior of the mind – Bishop Cedd. King Oswiu had ordered that neither were allowed to take a side in the arguments that had raged all day in the chamber. That was Wilfrid and Colman’s role; but both had steered the course of that passion to bring it to this point of pregnant silence; silent but not finished…

Continue reading at Sun in Gemini

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Offering ~ Anita Dawes #writephoto

I let the iridescent colours flood my mind as I watched

this ethereal woman holding a bowl towards me

When she spoke, I felt electricity run through my veins

A warm caress of something strange

Half remembered, yet with no name

Had I stood on this same spot before?

Continue reading at  Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie

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An Offering ~ Frank J. Tassone #writephoto

Why do you come before me, bearing the cup I cannot bear to drink?

Only two days ago, I heard the gospel of the Nativity. You gave birth to your son and laid him in a manger. The Logos, beyond all eternity, incarnate in a newborn.

And now, your outstretched hand holds that cup. It’s the same cup Fr. B raised during Christmas Mass. “This is the cup of my blood…”

But I can’t. How many times have I faltered? How many falls have I endured? Still, you stand before me, your outstretched arms offering me “the cup of salvation.”

Continue reading at Frank J. Tassone

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Light and shade

The road home was flooded by brilliant winter sunlight, criss-crossed with the deep, dark shadows of the trees. The light and shade fell upon me through the glass roof of the car as I drove, setting reality a-flicker like an old movie reel. It seemed appropriate as I looked back on the days and months behind me, taking stock. They too are unreal… they exist only in memory and consequence, yet their weight can crush us if we permit it.

Tomorrow sees the beginning of a new year and a new decade. I am old enough that the thought of seeing in the year twenty-twenty still seems like some impossibly futuristic dream… and young enough to know that seeing in twenty-fifty is not a complete impossibility.

Many of the strange and wonderful technological advances that graced the pages of science fiction books when I was young are now part of our everyday lives. We may not all have a Jetson-esque ‘Rosie’ to do our chores, but our homes are filled with incredible gadgetry. We have adapted to its presence and learned to take it so much for granted that our behaviours as a species are changing… not always for the better. We are amazingly adaptable creatures, though and the void left by what we unlearn or leave behind will be filled with new skills, I have no doubt.

But of all the decades I have lived, this one has been both the worst and the best. And the two are so intimately entwined that it is difficult to separate them, as the one depends on the other.

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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The Final Offering ~ Paula Light #writephoto

“What have you brought me tonight?” asked the demon of the maiden.

“I bring you all the stars in the sky, and I humbly beg you to spare my beloved,” said the maiden to the demon with tears flowing down her translucent misty gown.

“It is not enough,” growled the demon.

The maiden departed and returned in a thousand years with another gift to present in trade.

Continue reading at Light Motifs II

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