22nd February 2024
I managed a 6.30 start this morning as others from the night shift were leaving early. As I crossed Westminster Bridge it was spotting with rain. Prayer stool out – the pavement was still dry. Poncho on creating a little tent – my warm dry space.
Today I am tired. Prayer doesn’t come easily. What more can I say to God that I have not already said?
It feels like the same flow of people passing along the pavement. I even recognise some as ones I have seen several times already this week. Maybe they recognise me – or if not me, then the presence of a small group gathered on the edge of the pavement. Certainly the police think this, and several wish us a ‘Good morning’ as they pass.
My friends the gulls are busy feeding, but no geese today.
Faint trails of prayer: all who pass by are God’s children – children of our heavenly parent.
Pupils from Westminster School drift by sporting a variety of sports gear and musical instruments. Do their lessons include climate change? Do they learn about the right to protest? Might they become members of parliament or civil servants in due course?
God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done. What would this world look like if that were the case? A place of equality, where all have enough food to eat, homes to live, medical aid according to need?
Could those in the building behind us bring in such a world? Is it a world that people would want? Is it a world that faith groups could further?
The rain comes and goes. The flow of people waxes and wanes. I struggle to focus. Up above the sky and the clouds shift and change in colour and intensity.
Time passes. At last Big Ben strikes eleven.
The Green Tau 