Amy Boucher Pye

Author: Amy Boucher Pye

  • Celebrating the second day of Christmas: Around the Christmas tree

    Christmas tree by a fireplace.
    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Happy second day of Christmas!

    I love this painting by my dad, for it evokes Christmases in the family home growing up in Minnesota, where my parents still live, and where they celebrated on Christmas Eve with all the family (except us).

    That “except us” is the poignant bit, isn’t it. Christmas is a wonderful holiday for family celebrations, but often not everyone is gathered around the tree, for whatever reason. Maybe they’ve moved far away, like I did, or a rift between siblings turned into a war that now fractures the family, or someone has to work in healthcare or in the church, or maybe they have died, and we miss them achingly… Christmas will never be picture perfect, because life this side of heaven isn’t picture perfect.

    But we can have glimpses of wonder and joy, those moments of unity and fun that drop deeply into our memories and make us long for unbroken moments of sweet communion. May you experience more than a handful of these today and during this Christmas season.

  • Welcoming the Light: Happy Christmas!

    In a matter of hours we enter the Christmas season! I love these twelve days when the baking is done, the presents all wrapped and distributed, and we can enjoy time as a family relaxing in front of the tree – or the telly (Call the Midwife, anyone?). We’ve made it through the shortest day, and now journey to the light as we embrace the Light of the world, who has come to distill our darkness.

    May you know joy and peace during the Christmas season; may you be renewed in body and spirit as you stop to wonder and marvel at the God who became Man and lived among us.

    Happy Christmas!

  • Watercolor Wednesday: Here’s the church and there’s the steeple…

    A church in blue and white surrounded by trees and sitting in a bed of snow.
    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    We’re in the third week of Advent, but soon and very soon we’ll have the fourth week and then boom, in quick succession, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The twelve days of Christmas will commence. And many of us will go to church to celebrate. I love this picture of a sweet little church framed by trees and cushioned by snow, painted by my father. It’s an idyllic picture of what we imagine church should be like – all soft edges, coziness, and safety.

    But, of course, life doesn’t always follow art. Church can be an experience of disappointment, weariness, hurt, anger, criticism, and pain. If you’re human and you’ve gone to church for a length of time, I’m guessing you can relate to that list of feelings and experiences, and add your own.

    But church can be joy and communion; peace and fellowship; wonder and relating. Jesus came to earth as a baby to usher in a new kingdom, where we are filled with his presence and can find union not only with him but others – and we can find this in church, of all places.

    As we wait for his coming again, may we glimpse what church can be here on earth. Even if for a slender moment. 

    Father God, you sent your Son to earth as a baby, that he might live as one of us. How you must ache for the pain you see your children wrapped in. Thank you that you want to relieve us from this heartache. Help us to turn to you for comfort and help. And please bring unity and peace to our places of worship, bringing healing and release where there has been hurt and betrayal. May we sense your calming presence in our lives this day. Amen. 

  • Weekly Watercolor: The second week of Advent

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    This week, two candles glow on our Advent wreath, the light becoming stronger in our kitchen as we eat dinner each night in candlelight. The second candle traditionally denotes peace and the prophets. Peace – that’s certainly something we can pray for, in these worldwide times of terrorism, political upheaval, and unrest. 

    Father God, you sent the Prince of Peace to our world as a baby, that we might not live shrouded in fear, conflict, and strife. Continue to usher in your peace, the peace that passes all understanding and guards our hearts and minds through your Son. We ask for creative ways to mend the brokenness among people groups around the world; we long for unity and respect among those with deep differences. May your shalom reign, that your kingdom on earth might flourish. Amen.

  • Reflecting on #myoneword for 2018, Replenish

    I enjoyed a replenishing time on retreat in February with the Sheldon community in Devon with walks in the countryside and time to try out a new type of writing.
    This quotation from Jeremiah 31:25. 

    My word for the year (#myoneword) has been replenish, which I chose following the exhaustion of writing books and completing an MA in Christian spirituality over a compressed period of time. This year has been for rest, but as we reach the end of it I wonder if I’ve fulfilled my creative hopes that bring life to my soul and refill the well. I’m not sure that I have, but perhaps I started at a very low deficit, being so tired that at times I felt that all I could do was binge-watch a television series. I would cycle between this kind of collapse and then scurrying to finish off my regular deadlines, such as my monthly articles for OurDaily Bread and running the Woman Alive book club, as well as writing other Bible reading notes, such as Inspiring Women Every Day.

    But finally, in this last month of the year, I feel I have more energy for the creative projects that I love pursuing. To make way for them, however, I seem to need to declutter some of the gathered stuff that I didn’t sort out when I was so focused on writing and academic study. I have many more areas of the house to attack, but I’m pleased when I can attend to one, such as the weekend’s job of sorting through the computer table.

    Okay, so we still have a lot of papers to sort through on the top shelf… 

    I really should have taken a “before” photo, for this large wooden-box-on-stilts was filled to the brim with stuff—Christmas boxes, papers galore, and an old computer that needed dumping. I’m thrilled to have it cleaned out. Now the working computer has a new home, releasing the dining-room table from its temporary captivity under said computer, and our daughter has a new workplace for the increased amount of homework she has with secondary school. Do you need to clear out before you can create?

    I like being able to close the doors to the clutter!

    I still have a long list of books to read, creative projects to make, and even Christmas cookies to start baking. But instead of seeing all of the things undone, I can rest in what I have been able to do, giving thanks for that clean dining-room table and tidy home for the computer. In a small way, this approach echoes the way we can embrace the incomplete nature the #myoneword experience over a year. I’m guessing that we probably will not have reached a perfect state of contentment with our progress on the particular word, but we may be farther along than we anticipated.

    And so as you come to the end of 2018, might you take some time to consider how you’ve grown or where you’ve stagnated, particularly in the area related to your word for the year, if you’ve chosen one? As we reflect on how God has moved in and through us, we can give thanks for his grace in our lives.

    Over to you: Did you choose a word for 2018? If so, what was it, and how did having that word before you shape you over the months?

  • Watercolor Wednesday: Life in the city

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Last week while I was speaking in Somerset, I heard time and time again how much those I was talking with loved their home county. They might like visiting London, but they exhaled when they got home to the green open spaces with its hedgerows, hills, and atmospheric clouds.

    I can understand that, for I love breathing in the clean(er) country air, slowing down, and taking in the surroundings. But I love the city too, and if I had to choose, would go for the hustle and bustle of, say, multicultural London over the quiet of the countryside. (Especially as I can more easily travel on public transport versus those scary single-lane country roads with drivers bearing down on us less confident types!)

    What about you? City or country or somewhere in between? Why? Where do you feel most at home?

    Art by Leo Boucher, my father. Not a watercolor, I know – I’m guessing acrylics on canvas. To purchase prints of some of his work, click here, or email me if you are interested in a piece not listed there.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: The sweet freedom of forgiveness between Christians by Sheila Holwell

    I am pained by the division that happens sometimes between Christians who embrace different streams of faith and practice, so when I heard Sheila Holwell’s story of the freedom that forgiveness brings from this kind of fracture, I was eager to share it with you. Might there be someone who has hurt you in this way whom you could forgive?

    A meditation in Our Daily Journey, written by Amy Boucher Pye on the subject of forgiveness, got me thinking. At the conclusion we were led into considering whether there were any experiences in our lives where there was a need to forgive.

    While I have been very conscious of the need for forgiveness over the years, and have known the wonderful freedom it brings, as I read there suddenly flooded into my mind the memory of an incident about thirty years ago in the church. I knew immediately that I had not really forgiven.

    A new Curate came when I was involved with the Pathfinder Group of young teens. The mother of one of our members came to see us, concerned that, while she encouraged her children to be faithful to their commitments, she felt this was being challenged as the Curate had told her daughter to be trained as a Server, which meant leaving Pathfinders. This was done without our being told of that decision.

    There were other incidents that were done without communication so I went to the Curate and asked him to “lay his cards on the table” and tell me what was going on. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “You are not a mainline Anglican and you don’t fit. I was so shocked that I did not respond, so I went to the Vicar and told him what had been said and his response was “Well, it is true.” Having made a point of being committed to the church over the years in every way possible, including moulding into the different churchmanship, I found their statements very hurtful.

    As the realisation came to me that I had not forgiven the Curate, I laid the whole situation at the foot of the Cross. I knew that Jesus had been there with me at the time, and so I was able to forgive and pray for this person, leaving it all with the Risen Christ. Subsequent circumstances caused me to thank God that it was a stage on my pilgrimage that was contributory to where I am today.

    Finally, to bring the seal of God’s redeeming love on it all I placed the whole situation, via a little written note, on the Altar at the Eucharist. Praise the Lord! I am free!

    Sheila Holwell was born in North London, where she had a grandmother who taught her to love the Bible and to enjoy Moody and Sankey hymns. As a teenager she felt the call to serve the Lord where he wanted her. Later came the very unexpected pathway to being an R.A.F. wife to a widower, and stepmother to a nine-year-old boy, with whom sixty years on she has a wonderful relationship.

    She worked for the NHS with her husband became Readers in the Oxford Diocese, serving together until they moved to Devon. Sadly her husband died of cancer and also had dementia. It was then, however, that she experienced the miraculous ways God leads in devastating circumstances.

    The doorway into Anglo-Catholicism opened and she is very happy with a wonderful vicar, who has a great sense of humour. Their evangelical versus liberal theology is dealt with in love. She finds sharing Jesus in prayer, preaching, and pastoral care such a privilege.

    Amy’s book The Living Cross explores forgiveness through a series of daily Bible readings for Lent. You can find out more about it, and how to purchase, here.

  • Watercolor Wednesday: A lighthouse in the darkness

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    I find this painting of my dad’s intriguing. The lighthouse sits high on a rock, promising to illuminate the dark skies and warn boats of the rocks that would crush them. I see hope and promise in that image.

    And then I glimpse the large fall leaves in the foreground, those that soon will wither and disappear as coldness sets in. They are a sign of the earth hibernating and sleeping.

    Two juxtaposing images. Together, they bring hope for light even in the seasons of death.

    What do you see?

     

  • Tasty Frosty Pumpkin Pie – A Recipe

    Happy Thanksgiving week! I love the holiday of US Thanksgiving, not least because the holiday itself is probably the least commercialized celebration (not, of course, the day after though…). We usually go to the service at St. Paul’s Cathedral (for anyone interested, it’s at 11am and I do recommend it) on the day itself, and sometimes have our big feast that day too. But as it’s just another Thursday in November here in Britain, with people working and at school, we often celebrate at the weekend. And usually that’s the weekend after the holiday, but this year we’re marking the day today, as I’m speaking next Saturday. And unlike most years, when we gather many around our table, we’re only hosting family this year because I’ve been traveling so much. Which means I even have time to go to the gym this morning and to post this recipe for you!

    One of my favorites about turkey day is this frosty pumpkin pie, which has become a regular at our table. I’ve found that most guests who haven’t grown up eating pumpkin-flavored this and that don’t always care for the taste of pumpkin, so adding the ice cream softens the flavor and makes it more palatable. And it’s just good!

    I give you our Frosty Pumpkin Pie, with love from our table to yours. Enjoy!

    The frosty pumpkin pie, just created, pre freezing and without whipped cream on top…

    This recipe and others, such as my cranberry stuffing, appear in Finding Myself in Britain. You can also read about my and Nicholas’ experience at the US Ambassador’s residence one year! Available in the UK from Christian bookshops, or online from Eden and Amazon. Available Stateside from Amazon.

  • The bitter and sweet of Home by Liz Carter, author of Catching Contentment

    What does it feel like to unpack – at last – the boxes and settle into making a house a home? Why do we long for Home? Where is Home? And when we’ve found Home, why yet can it still be a place of pain as well as joy? Liz Carter poses these questions and others in her searching contribution to the “There’s No Place Like Home” guest blog series. I’m so grateful for the depth of her thinking and the grace-filled answers she points to. Grab a cuppa and enjoy.

    Home is a funny word, isn’t it?

    It immediately conjures a variety of images and feelings, all unique to us in our own experience. For me, Home is both sweet and bitter, because I’ve never had a long-term experience of what ‘home’ actually means. My dad was a vicar, and I spent my childhood and teens moving around the country. The longest I’ve lived in one house is five years. I went and married a vicar, too, you see, although he wasn’t a vicar at the time – I thought that there might be a possibility of finally settling somewhere, bringing up a family in a community and getting to know people in that way you can when you are somewhere for a long time. Yet God had other plans.

    In some senses, I’m more than OK with this. I find that after a few years in one home, I start getting itchy feet, because I’ve only ever known this somewhat nomadic existence. I don’t really know what it’s like to have that ‘settled’ feeling people talk of, that sense of knowing where home is. I’m hoping very much to know it a little better now my husband is in his first incumbency, and a longer stay is possible. I’m already getting glimpses of what it must be like; of community who know and love one another, who have supported one another for many, many years. It’s an enticing and comforting feeling, dancing in the edges of this ocean of Home, this hope for longevity. It’s also just a little scary, because my life has, in a metaphorical sense, been a life lived out of boxes – and now I’ve finally unpacked them all.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about what the word Home means while writing my new book, Catching Contentment (published this week!). Because I’ve always lived out on the edges, struggling to feel like a full part of a place and a community, I’ve wondered what it is like to be inside. I wonder if my search for home is tied to my longing to know and be known, and to be in the place where my soul is at rest. I think we are all seeking this peace which cannot be understood but which can sometimes be glimpsed in captivating impressions of that which our heart is longing for. We’re all searching for that place where we can finally unpack our boxes and be still, be known and be rested. We sense that in this world, we are strangers, living on the edge, and that there is so much more to come.

    The writer of Psalm 84 knew this. He was outlawed to the desert, so far from the place his soul called home – the temple. He paints such a poignant picture of longing for that place, of his desperation to be back there, the place his heart rests. His soul ‘yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord.’ (v2) ‘Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere,’ he goes on to say. These lines catch at my soul, because I sense that yearning, too, that ache to be in the presence of the Lord, which is better by far. I live with long-term illness, and spend most of the time severely uncomfortable in my own body, because of the pain and fatigue I experience from day to day. I sometimes dream of how it will one day be, of a place where I will be free, where I will run on beaches and breathe without difficulty. I dream of a home where I will be fully who I am created to be, but it’s more than that. It’s a dream of a home where I am finally in the presence of a God who longs to flood me with all that ‘home’ really is; with all the riches of knowing him, at last, face to face.

    I know that one day, I will stand in his presence and I will, at last, be home. But as for now, I am waiting. I am homesick. And yet God doesn’t want us to be wishing away our lives, waiting for our true home, but longs to give us alluring glimpses of that home in the painful present we live in. In that Psalm, the writer talked about the valley of tears, the place he was waiting in as he longed for home. But he didn’t talk about it as something to be put up with or wished away, but as a ‘place of springs’ where the pilgrim will go from strength to strength (v7-9). It’s clear that in his painful present, the writer has discovered something of the riches of who God is, and how God dwells with us in our pain and darkness.

    Photo: rawpixel on Unsplash

    What is Home, then? Home is where we find ourselves, now, in this moment. Home is where we dig into the treasures of God, and find out who we are and who he is. Home is a place of peace, of rest, even within the depths of despair. And Home is a place of yearning for the Home we know, in our deepest and wildest places, we belong.

    Liz Carter is an author and blogger who likes to write about life in all its messy, painful, joyous reality. She likes Cadbury’s and turquoise, in equal measure, and lives in the UK with her husband, a church leader, and two crazy teens.

    She is the author of Catching Contentment: How to be Holy Satisfied (IVP), which digs into the lived experience of a life in pain, and what contentment could mean in difficult circumstances. Watch her book trailer here and find her online here.

    ♥

    This post is part of my series on finding home, with many wonderful guest writers; other entries can be found here. It links up to the themes of home that I explore in my book, Finding Myself in Britain: Our Search for Faith, Home and True Identity. Available in the UK from lovely Christian bookshops, or online from Eden and Amazon. Only available Stateside from Amazon.