Drawn by a Star

La Chocolatda. Bringing hot chocolate and presents to thousands of children and the frail elderly in the High Andes at Christmas. This little girl in Peru is enjoying a mug of hot chocolate, a sticky sweet bun, and the plastic doll on her lap has been a present from the charity www.pathoftheheart.com. This year I will be working with a different organistaion called My Small Help ( www.mysmallhelp.org). We'll be taking her hot chocolate again (and to 4000 other underprivileged children in remote mountain villages near Machu Picchu), but this year she will be given a beautiful fair trade toy made in Peru. My life has suddenly been taken over by organizing a third fund raiser to help this Christmas project happen. Such generosity comes out of the cupboard when people get involved in fund raising. More stories of this coming soon !

Throughout history patron saints have been chosen as protectors or guardians over areas of life. These areas can include occupations, illnesses, churches , countries, places, causes - anything that is important to us. The earliest records show that people and churches were named after apostles and martyrs as early as the fourth century. 'Yes, you may photograph me.' Amarantha, the patron saint of this small Spanish river valley agrees graciously. Today though, she is invisible to all but a few. The taxi driver smiles and photographs the river. He doesn't see Amarantha sitting on a rock, red poppies in her hand. His gold wedding ring glints in the afternoon sun. She smiles. He loves the river. He knows it well. He got married here three years ago. 'That's a great shot' says the thin man on holiday from Germany, nervously testing each unsteady rock beside the fast flowing blue grey water. His nicotine stained index finger clicks on his new Canon camera. Amarant...

May I live this day Compassionate of heart Clear in word Gracious in awareness Courageous in thought Generous in love. From John O' Donohue's Matins (To Bless this Space Between us)

Today is a truly historic day in our village, at least for three of us. Many of us are not bothered, life will go on just as before. Jose, the handsome middle aged Argentinian WiFi man arrived this morning with his young assistant Marcus. They sweated a lot and drank gallons of iced water. Three of us in the village are now connected to WiFi, thanks to Jose, Marcus and an initiative by the local town hall. Before, it took anything from 9-20 minutes just to enter Yahoo. I have been waiting for this day for the last eight years! All I can say is Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

Finding the Sacred in the Every Day by Meg Robinson | Make Your Own Book

It's my birthday. Between breakfast and lunch I have two unexpected visitors. The first is elderly Manolo who reminds me I reversed into his son's new car a few days ago and scraped its shinny bumper. We'll all have a chat about it at the weekend he says. He's being very nice about it. A few hours later a young man in a grey and orange uniform arrives and tells me I need a certificate for my gas installation. He says it's a new law, and can I read Spanish. Yes, I say, and I read some of the three pages he hands me. I am then easily conned into parting with 138€. It's a scam my neighbors tell me later. Why didn't I ask them before I paid up? I wasn't expecting to deal with 'life' on my birthday, and, I've never heard of anybody being conned in our village. It's evening now after a day with too much heat. Here in southern Spain, summer has sneaked in. We've been sitting for hours in the patio of our favourite restaurant, El Limone...

I nearly blotted my copybook with José our young Argentinean priest last night. I arrived early for mass for once, and Jose, who was lighting the candles, looking thinner than ever, asked me if I’d made an alter. Madre Mia, I almost said out loud. 'I thought Corpus Christi was next week. Don’t worry,' I reassured him. 'I’ll run home and make one now, quickly. Everything I need is at hand.' Corpus Christie is when in June we make outdoor alters around the village and then process from one to the next, singing. It’s an ancient custom here in Andalucia, but it's beginning to die out in places. So I rushed home, got the tall green angel out of the meditation room, found the pink drapes, plucked the red Peruvian bit of fabric off the table in the hall,and collected ceramic baby Jesus from the top shelf in the pantry. This particular Baby Jesus is pure Kitsch , but gifted to me by a neighbor and absolutely obligatory for your outdoor alter. A plate with bread ...