Welsh reflections

When we arrived at Pen y Banc, I had mental energy for little else than sleeping, watching TV and thinking. I'm not a natural meditator, though clearly MND does force you to sit and stare, as the poet half-recommends.

So here are some reflections from last week.

Early (for me, i.e. 9.30 am) on Sunday we went to St Dingat's Church in Llandovery. Dingat I learn was one of the 36 offspring of Brychan, Irish chieftain and saint, of the sixth century. Well, there were a good deal more than 36 in the congregation. Just as we pulled up outside, a couple of minibuses from, I think, Coleg Elidyr, the local Camphill Residential Special Needs School, were disembarking their passengers. The service wasn't particularly inspiring, the music wasn't especially good, the liturgy was the same as ever, the sermon was comprehensible and straightforward (memorably telling us that academic scepticism about the Trinity was "a load of rubbish"). And yet it was probably the time when I have been most aware of the presence of the Holy Spirit in a church service. I was reflecting on why this should be so, and my conclusion was, "Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it unto me." The welcoming acceptance of those we tend to exclude from polite society was the reason for Jesus' presence. 


I recall listening the Dream Center's Youth Pastor speaking at Kingdom Faith in the mid '90s about the vision that led the Barnetts to that remarkable church in downtown Los Angeles. On the website it says, "The vision was birthed out of the fact that in 1994, Pastors Matthew and Tommy Barnett came to Los Angeles with the intention of building a church. They found that they first had to address the physical needs of this impoverished community." My memory is the vision was expressed in dialogue form: "Jesus, we want to build a church where you are present." The Lord, "Bring in the poor, the marginalised and the outcasts - I love their company and I'll be there." 

I've mentioned before the joys of the Beamer Tramper - the cross-country disabled buggy. We first came across it at Pembrey Country Park near Llanelli, and we went back there on Thursday. Blue-badge holders can book it free of charge. It allowed us to go for a really good walk together, which is a real treat. 

We made it up to the view point looking over to the Gower Peninsular, passing en route the hugest specimens of the blue wild flower, Viper's Bugloss, I've ever seen. From the wonders of nature to the perversity of humans. Once we were up there there was a puzzling spectacle below us. Men in orange visijackets and black and green bundles were spread out below us on the grass and dunes. As we came down we discovered more. It was the debris of a student event, we were told. 70 people had been working since Monday clearing up. They still had some way to go by the look of it. The ground had apparently been covered. 

When we reached the information centre, however, we were told it had been a good occasion. I gather it's not dissimilar to Glastonbury after the festival. Both fun and creative events, both leaving a lot of rubbish. I suppose there are some similarities in the natural world, such as vultures and dung beetles. We live in an interdependent world. But surely we can do a bit better than just abandoning our detritus indiscriminately behind us? We're not merely animals.

And now for something completely different...

Lydia and Richard, with Badger

But come to think of it, there is a connection as on Tuesday we met two participants of a Palm Sunday procession, to whom nobody could object. We'd been invited to visit Pennyhooks Farm, about which, you may remember, I blogged in January after it was featured on BBC Countryfile. It's a care farm, the only one in the country that's geared for adolescents and young adults with autism spectrum disorders. It's also where Rachel does some teaching. There's a good article about it here: Pennyhooks Farm article in current edition of Organic Farming.

Feeding the cattle (from www.pennyhooks.com)

It's a family farm near Shrivenham in Oxfordshire. It's now run by Lydia Otter (whose family have run the farm for 50 years) and Richard Hurford, the farm manager. Lydia is a teacher who has specialized in special needs' education. She saw the potential of a farm to develop the latent skills of young people with severe educational needs - and this place is working beautifully and successfully in doing just that. It, of course, is experiencing the economic squeeze. Sadly, these particular young adults don't feature highly on councils' lists of priorities, and they are voiceless in the political arena. And Lydia's busy educating, Richard too, and they run the farm. So who will be advocate for these vulnerable citizens with so much to learn and to give? And who will be a fund-raiser for their benefit? There is such a big-hearted vision behind the project. It should be nurtured, not neglected.

The garden, the 'shop' and Appletree House behind Richard & Badger

We were there in a week's break. So there were no students there, but we were shown the heart of the farm.

The main study room

The boot room

On the way to the animals

Jaguar, the young bull

Octavia, the Saddleback sow

Not easy holding a new chick with uncooperative hands!

But what about those Palm Sunday processors? Ivanhoe and Linnet are their names, and two days before they had been walking down Shrivenham High Street into the parish church with perfect decorum, I'm told - and of course to the author of My Donkeybody they gave great pleasure. I like to think we had a real understanding! As you may sense, I thoroughly enjoyed my time there and could well understand its being both a therapeutic and educating (in the fullest sense) place for young people who have the dice of life heavily loaded against them. Gertrude Jekyll it was, I believe, who said that you're nearer to God in the garden than anywhere else on earth. Well, I'd say this was one better, as it has not only a garden, but also an organic farm; and what's most important people running it who genuinely care about their visitors - whether casual like us or regular like their young people. Thank you, Lydia and Richard - and best wishes.

Ivanhoe and Linnet

A quiet conversation with Ivanhoe