IT MAKES YOU THINK

In 3 days time, on Saturday 28th July, I will be exactly the same age my dad was when he died. He was 64 and 2 weeks.
It was no age, we all agreed. He'd been in robust good health despite more than half a lifetime as a smoker of cigarettes and then cigars. About what would be 5 months ago, out in southern Spain in his divorced, retirement heaven, he thought he'd had a stroke. He flew back here and my elder brother and I accompanied him to a meeting with a neurologist who pointed out that as it had come on slowly, it wasn't a stroke. Turned out it was a brain tumour, which they removed surgically, but that was only a secondary to a terminal growth in his lungs.
All 4 of his children were at his bedside as he breathed his last, in the small hours of that quiet night. At least he'd had 3 years of happy retirement. But 64 was not enough. He was very brave  and even turned his back on a lifetime of atheism 10 days before, committing to Christ in quite miraculous circumstances.
He's buried in a still corner of an English graveyard, near Bedford. I have visited it. But not for a long time. And now I've equalled him. Very nearly.
Though we are driving down to Somerset on Saturday!

MAYBE A MISTAKE....

Dear all. I realise I probably made a mistake with my second book, 'A Spring Awakening', in that making it a follow on from the first book, 'A Christmas Calling', which had been so Christmassy and festive and in some ways light, it was too much of a change with the same characters in the same series to have a book so deep in dark and difficult things. 
Don't get me wrong! I'm happy with and proud of the second book as it stands, and certainly those who like a more gritty read and engaging with some real, difficult, current issues, enjoyed it - yet even if it haven't been a follow-on but just a second book by me from the same publishers, I think the unexpected change would have been difficult for readers to take. 
This is for me, I guess, part of the learning curve of my growth as an author and I have decided, for the moment at least, not to continue with that series into a 3rd and 4th as I originally intended but to look in other directions for what I should be writing next.
To my faithful and patient readers I say, bear with me, and even make helpful suggestions! 
Thank you!

BACK IN THE REAL WORLD?

Hi everyone! Back from a fabulous hot and sunny two weeks in St Malo, Britanny. That's our summer holiday for this year. Now trying to tidy up a new Christmas story manuscript for Instant Apostle #InAp Not part of the previous series - a funny tale about a curate.

I NEVER MEANT TO STOP

Such a title alongside such a picture might raise an eyebrow or two. But it's not how it seems, as if I never meant to stop before hitting that wall. To start with, I didn't hit the wall, I hit another car, and then rolled to a stop at the wall. But more than that, the title actually has nothing to do with the car accident. At least, not in the way you might think.

So, to clarify matters, what I mean is I NEVER MEANT TO STOP BLOGGING. I intend to continue to blog despite the dearth of evidence to that effect of late. But I recognise that the major event that seems to have precipitated the lack of blogs since it happened is the car accident.
Tom and I were on our way to the lovely Thames-side village of Cookham on Thursday evening, April 19th. Going along the A40, the traffic lights at a major junction were out. Nobody was coming, I continued over, and then as if deposited from the future, there was this car, right in front of us. The bang was huge, the airbags deployed, and we rolled off the road up to that wall.
The car is a write-off. Neither Tom nor I was hurt except with minor burns from the airbags and aches from the impact of the airbags and the deceleration. The driver of the other car was also unhurt. Insurance decided to pay it out as a 50/50 no fault. Since then I have taken over driving Mary's car, which she was trying to get rid of anyway, and we will hardly need two cars in retirement next year.
But for some reason, since then, I just stopped blogging.
These things can affect you in ways you hardly know.
But here I am again.

ANOTHER EASTER POEM!

Shall church bells greet the dawn, the day,
And daffodils align the way?
The God who came at night, once more,
At daybreak steps through heaven's door.

So long, the night, of evil's reign.
The centuries of Man whose pain, 
Though made by his own fruitless cause, 
Cries out for rest and heaven's pause. 

The gloom of sin, the hidden rooms, 
From darkened womb to musty tombs. 
Nor torch nor flame nor speed of light, 
Illumes the way to heaven's right. 

So comes The Light that He might be, 
Snuffed out for me on calvary. 
Then three days later brights the morn, 
By standing here at heaven's dawn. 

Come, church bells, greet the all-new day,
And daffodils must line the way. 
The Lord who shut the dark, will stand,
And shine our lives to heaven's land.

RESURRECTION POEM

RESURRECTION

Let us sing of resurrection, 
And, with Him, our voices, raise. 
Let us sing of glorious dawnings, 
And in all our mornings, praise. 

Jesus, you are all our glory, 
We will bless with every breath. 
You, in heavenly brightness seated, 
In the dark, defeated death. 

Springtime chorus sweetly cherish, 
Him who stands at ever-dawn. 
Daffodils now trumpet gladly, 
He who saved the badly-born. 

Glory, glory, shout the story! 
Sing it upwith voices' lifts! 
How the God who died is living. 
And to Man is giving gifts. 

Now there is a hope of heaven, 
By His rise, another place. 
Because Man his Saviour chooses, 
And no more refuses grace. 

Let us sing of resurrection, 
And, with Him, our voices, raise. 
Let us sing of glorious dawnings, 
And in all our mornings, praise. 

Jesus, you are all our glory, 
We will bless with every breath. 
You, in heavenly brightness seated, 
In the dark, defeated death.

WHAT DO YOU SEE?

Yesterday, out on my bike, I took this pic of a springy scene.

Now, we could leave it at that. Because it's just lovely. Spring has come. But here's something else. Do you see a lovely spring scene of sky, grass, horses and daffodils? Or do you say, 'Oh, pity about the barbed wire, that ruins it'?

Two people sit outside a country pub on a pleasant spring evening. Across the other side of the lightly-trafficked road is a cricket ground. One person looks with great pleasure at the grass, the people walking their dogs, the sky, the nice houses; they feel the gentle breeze, hear the singing birds, sip their drink and find a moment of joyous perfection. The other says, 'Oh I can't stand that road! That traffic! It spoils the whole thing for me.'

The question is, what are you set up to see? Do you always spot the barbed wire and the traffic, or do you see the grass and the sky? 

Are you an appreciator or a criticiser? 

AGHAST

 A timely reflection on Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, which always moves me.

AGHAST
Aghast He watched as at His feet,
The ground decayed away,
And slimy fell there crumbling earth,
The pit of all dismay.

Aghast He fell upon His knees,
In danger then to slide, 
Into the hopeless, no - escape,
The turmoil of the died.

Aghast He heard the plaintive pleas,
The newer, rent with awe;
The older, fainter, no less dire,
Arose from Hades' maw. 

Aghast the cross before Him stood, 
And He in darkness, blind, 
Was judged, sent forth, and bled of light, 
And left kind life behind. 

Aghast He saw himself slip in, 
No clutching, to undo;
His blood made slide His entry to,
All hell for me and you.

Aghast He heard the father's words,
'Condemned with no parole'.
And watched as pierced, rejected, He, 
Became a now - damned soul.

Aghast He wept as sobs arose, 
Unbidden from within. 
In disbelief, His flesh corrupt, 
Became all human sin. 

Aghast the words could hardly form, 
The pleas were choked with pain:
'Oh Father, if it might be so, 
Spare me this stinking drain.' 

Aghast He bowed His crown-less head, 
And groaned, 'so let it be. 
This is the mouth of very hell, 
And this the way for me.'

'WHO?' POEM

In my continual attempts to express, both to myself and others, the wonders of the Easter Story, here is a recent offering about the cross.

WHO?

Who hung himself upon a cross?
Who partnered with the hands of men?
Who stood before the furnace door? 
Who burned and, burning, sheltered them?

Who stepped under the wrath of God?
Who bore it, took it, drank it down?
Who grabbed the poisoned cup of death?
Who laid Himself under the ground?

Who gave up God, for God's own sake?
Who, 'I'm abandoned' bitter, cried? 
Who an abomination made? 
Who in such filthy ending, died? 

Who at bright noon pulled on the night?
Who closed his eyes in dark of soul? 
Who bowed under injustice' weight? 
Who made Himself an offering, whole? 

Who pulled sharp pain into his bed?
Who ache and sorrow gave embrace?
Who laid Him down in squirming hell? 
Who smeared our spit upon His face?

Who ripped his soul with his bare hands?
Who cast the pieces to the floor?
Who stamped upon them underfoot? 
Who willed them buried, evermore?

Who let His blood for all mankind?
Who show'rs of His own water, sprayed?
Who ope'd compassion's deeper vein? 
Who, limp and lifeless, Himself laid?

Who?
Only one.
Who?
Who sufficed? 
Who?
God's own Son.
Who? 
Jesus Christ.

IS SPRING IN THE AIR?

I don't know if it's because I've been ill with a coughing-and-generally-feeling-unwell bug, and today for the first time in over 2 weeks I really feel well; or if it's because I've taken the morning off and am out and about in the car in the beautiful sunshine; or if it's the ice still covering puddles from a solid overnight freeze - but it feels like spring has touched the edges of the world with all its promises of life and fresh, airy days. People emerge as if from hibernation! Something starts to change before you can quite put your finger on it. I haven't seen a full - blossomed daffodil, but it can't be long. Yesterday I noticed with delight that it stayed light till well gone 5. Even the sun has suddenly recovered its forgotten power - through the yet-chilly air it scorches on my skin. My, that feels good! 
Come, spring, and light again the fires of life, the season's pledge, the chirp of joy and stretching of the day - stretching of the world itself, with open skies, and warmth that touches well the evening hours. 

oh yes ...

Ha ha, oh yes, it's £8 and the postage is £3 for anything up to 6 copies. Silly me.

A SPRING AWAKENING IS LAUNCHED

Like a mighty ship sliding down the slipway into the waters, the second novel of the 'Seasons of the Soul' series was launched on Sunday with a huge splash and the breaking of glass. People should be more careful with their drinks.

The author gave a brief overview of why it's such a good read, and an important book for our day in the themes that it covers. He read a small portion. He took questions. Then he signed and sold a few copies.

This fine fellow bought one.Now he is a happy man.

So, the floodgates are open. PLEASE PURCHASE SIGNED COPIES FROM ME rather than online. By email (chriscottee@sky.com) or post (61 Westfield Ave, WD24 7HF). You can pay by various means including BACS (sort code 60-00-08 account 49111841 and yes, that is fully secure!). Don't forget I need your address and what you'd like written in it. 

It will lift you from the grey depths of winter to the radiant glories of spring!

A SPRING AWAKENING BOOK LAUNCH

The book is to be published on Thursday, 18th January. But I have held off from selling my copies so far as it seems pretty recently that 'A Christmas Calling' was on everyone's lips (!). Even so, the day must come. So, friends, family, supporters, admirers and whoever else, please wait to get a signed copy from me, after I've done an actual book launch this time, which will be on Sunday 5th February at 11am at the church hall of St Peter's Church, Bushey Mill Lane Watford. The hall is right next door to my house which is 61 Westfield Ave WD24 7HF. There will be special refreshments, some presentation about the book, and massive signings and sellings with photographs. You know the drill. See you there.

EMAIL ANNOUNCEMENT OF 'A SPRING AWAKENING' FROM PUBLISHERS

TODAY I RECEIVED THE EMAIL BELOW FROM INSTANT APOSTLE PUBLISHERS #InAp SO I SENT IT TO 160 OF MY EMAIL CONTACTS!
You might like to have a look as well, as the story of David Sourbook and Angela Adams continues...

Dear Chris Cottee

Please see below for our latest release:
 

Some people find the short days and darkness of winter difficult to cope with. Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is a recognised condition in which people experience depression, believed to be caused by a lack of exposure to sunlight.
 
There is another darkness, one which people often carry around inside them. We live in a society that is overrun with people’s personal darknesses, perhaps ones caused by a struggle to understand their own past.
 
Many need to know that if you have a guide to help you, there is hope, even in multiple and deep darknesses, like a literal journey through winter towards spring, towards a brighter day.
 
That theme is a very personal one for A Spring Awakening’s main character, David Sourbook, who, in Chris Cottee’s previous novel, A Christmas Calling, thought his problems were behind him. In this sequel, he suffers unhappy relationships and trouble even with the law and the church. 

In order to reach a place of hope, akin to the glorious freshness of spring, he has to endure the emerging darknesses of his own past and soul. He encounters ones that are spiritual and psychological, of many kinds, darknesses that have to be exposed and faced, with the help of his close friend Angela, his church friends, a counsellor and God. But is David stumbling towards the light – or into the night?

‘Spring is such a hopeful time,’ writes Chris, ‘and the high glories of carefree summer beckon as hibernation ends. But once Christmas is over, to get to it, you have to go through the depths of winter – dark and bitter days; fearful, lonely nights. Some never make it. Maybe hope is a slippery thing, and a man as broken as David cannot be fixed in a week. Perhaps no person can.’

 What reviewers say:
‘Anyone who knows Chris would agree that he is a great storyteller. He writes as he speaks! “A spring awakening” is a good read full of perceptive observations about what makes us human. The characters are developed in such a way that we see ourselves, our struggles and our hopes in them.’
Mike Pilavachi, Author and Senior Pastor, Soul Survivor Watford
 
‘A powerful, compelling tale of one man’s painful journey towards true faith portrayed with realism and insight wrapped in evocative and elegant prose. Eminently readable.’
Baroness Dorothy Thornhill MBE, Elected Mayor of Watford
 
Bio:
Chris Cottee is a vicar in Watford and previously studied clinical psychology. He has a passion for the outdoors, working with children, and writing poetry and fiction.
 

For review copies and media enquiries contact Manoj: info@instantapostle.com
 

 

A Spring Awakening by Chris Cottee ( ISBN: 9781909728790) is published by Instant Apostle and is available on 18th January 2018 from Christian bookshops, bookstores and online retailers. Fiction, 336pp, £8.99.

A SPRING AWAKENING is here

Here it is! First sequel to 'A Christmas Calling'. Box opened! Copy held proudly by author! 
What to say about it? For now, just this:

You can't live in Christmas forever. The gritty reality of life forces its way in. Before you can get to the hopeful heights of Easter and spring, you must traverse the dark and dreary wasteland of winter. It is a valley of many shadows, one more famous than the rest. 

And is distant hope real, or merely a mirage that turns to vapour as you grasp for it? 

Sometimes you don’t make it to Easter and spring the first time, and have to start all over again.

David and Angela Sourbook set out upon exactly this journey. As it says near the start - 'Still, a journey that begins so well, how badly can it end?'

That's supposed to make you wonder ...

BART AT CHRISTMAS

Bart has been in church over Christmas. As you can see. In his festive Santa suit.

Yes, this is THE Bart who appears in 'A Christmas Calling' and even more significantly in 'A Spring Awakening'. He is a real bear. He belonged to my sons when they were young, but now remains here with us. 

He has now come home again to brighten up the house with his cheery and cheeky ways.

Usually, he doesn't wear anything!

But he is a very furry and fine bear.

THE FATHER'S SONG

I offer you this on this Christmas Eve, this blessed day, this day of wonder in many coats.

THE FATHER’S SONG

My Son.

My cuddly, lovely Son.

I’d swing him, make him laugh.

I held him, in my arms,

So warm to me.

And how he’d sit

Upon my lap,

All safe and cuddled up.

A kiss upon his lovely head,

And gently lift him into bed.

His smile, a beam of purest joy.

My own, my precious little boy.

The angels all adore him.

And, in utter wonder,

Fall before him.

He’s set upon a royal throne

The hope and praise of Man alone.

My Son.

My own, my heart,

My precious, lovely Son.

And shall I give him

Up to you?

Just, hand him over?

For you to do

What you like

With spear and spike?

To accuse

And roughly use?

To hit

And spit

And rail

And nail?

To cross, and kill?

Yes, I will.

For you,

I will.

My Son,

My precious, lovely Son.

For you

Are precious, too.

Chris Cottee 2010.

BYE BYE GRANDMA

This cheeky chappy is one of those Christmas toys that is animated and 'sings'. He rocks back and forth on his sledge and on a good, smooth surface he really gets energetic. His cheeks glow as he sings,
'GRANDMA GOT RUN OVER BY A REINDEER,
WALKING HOME FROM OUR HOUSE CHRISTMAS EVE.
YOU CAN SAY THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS SANTA,
BUT AS FOR ME AND GRANDPA, WE BELIEVE!'
It finishes with a deep voice saying, 'Me-e-erry Christmas!' which makes me laugh.
It's part of an old song. I love the subtlety of the words. Why do they believe in Santa? It could just be that they saw a reindeer on Christmas Eve. But there's more to it than that, isn't there? The subtle suggestion is that Santa has stepped in to rid them of the horrible old Grandma by striking her down in an apparent accident. They believe in Santa because he's come and delivered them this great deliverance! No more Grandma, and her mean, belittling and nasty ways!
I have to admit, the fact that the reindeer looks so happy rocking backwards and forwards on his sledge certainly adds to the merriment of the whole performance.
But let us all, at this festive time, take to heart the message of the piece - don't be someone's 'grandma'! ;-)

CHRISTMAS!

In the car, I'm listening to Justin Beiber, 'Under the Mistletoe'. Yes! That is just how much I LOVE Christmas! He sings 'Like the wise men follow the star, I must follow my heart.' Which makes me think, 'does that actually mean anything, Beibs? Or is it just a half-'starred' attempt at a still fairly poor rhyme? 
But it's CHRISTMAS! So who cares?
Also, the books came. 9 boxes of  'A Spring Awakening'. But you know, there's a time for everything like the wise man says in Ecclesiastes, so until after Christmas I've just piled them as much out of the way as possible. I haven't even opened one box to take one book out and hold it. I'll keep that to look forward to. You don't know exactly how it will look until you've done that. Or how it will feel. I remember being so impressed with the look and feel of 'A Christmas Calling'. 
But in case you've finished 'A Christmas Calling' and are champing at the bit, here's a teaser: Like the geography of many high points, many mountaintop views, in-between lies a valley. In between Christmas and Easter lies the valley of winter - for many a deep, long, dark valley - even the valley of the shadow of death. Easter is a time of promise, of spring, of future and of intense hope, but to get to it you still have to go from Christmas through winter-vale. That is the journey David and Angela have to undertake. Will they even survive it?

UNEXPECTED VISITOR

An unexpected visitor. It took him a good ten minutes to find his way out despite me opening all doors and windows and getting jolly cold! I took this picture,then I realized he was standing right in front of a booklet called 'The Christmas Poem'. Another 'unexpected visitor' who came in and stayed a while where He didn't really belong.
Or did He?