Hattersley valley

Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that a hidden valley runs through the middle of our estate. Carved by a stream of water from the mountains, that runs underground from under our church, and out through the middle of our houses. Hidden by dense trees, it flows regardless, a hidden seam of life.  

My little boy and I try and find a different way to walk to church every week through the alleyways that wind between the rows of houses.  It’s amazing how most lead us back to the valley. It’s not much to look at, dense with weeds and shopping trolleys, clogged with mud, but we love it just the same, and when the winter has stripped away the nettles, we trace its track ever-winding through the snow. I imagine this stream as a source of life for the estate, sending prayers along it like paper boats, praying that the water of life will keep moving through, sprouting more and more life on its tiny muddy shores.  

Jesus is already here, moving through the middle of us, unseen and uncaring of the thorns and the mess. 

I dream of this place in springtime, and I begin to paint the flowers. 

Imagine my joy in April, when the sides of the stream filled with flowers.  

“I will make rivers flow on barren heights, 
    and springs within the valleys. 
I will turn the desert into pools of water, 
    and the parched ground into springs.”
Isaiah 41: 18