Daily Worship

The bucket

July 07, 2020 1
Image credit: Unsplash

Song of Solomon 2: 8-13 (NRSVA)

8 The voice of my beloved!
    Look, he comes,
leaping upon the mountains,
    bounding over the hills.
9 My beloved is like a gazelle
    or a young stag.
Look, there he stands
    behind our wall,
gazing in at the windows,
    looking through the lattice.
10 My beloved speaks and says to me:
‘Arise, my love, my fair one,
    and come away;
11 for now the winter is past,
    the rain is over and gone.
12 The flowers appear on the earth;
    the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtle-dove
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree puts forth its figs,
    and the vines are in blossom;
    they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
    and come away.

Don’t you hate it when you’re sitting minding your business, not bothering anyone, and then suddenly out of nowhere your beloved swans in with a harebrained scheme? 

— Arise my darling, my beautiful one, come with me!
— Eh give us a minute I’m doing a bit of toast here.
— But my beloved the winter is past and…
— Yes I know but I just boiled a kettle… and the toast is going cold…
— But think — the flowers on the earth…
—​​​​​​​ I know my hay-fever is going mad.
—​​​​​​​ The season of singing!
—​​​​​​​ ‘Season of sneezing’ more like.
—​​​​​​​ But, but… the doves are cooing…
—​​​​​​​ Good for them.
—​​​​​​​ They are heard all over the land.
—​​​​​​​ Hang on are they in the chestnut tree?
—​​​​​​​ All over the land my love.
—​​​​​​​ Yes but are they in the chestnut tree?
—​​​​​​​ Eh yes, in that bit of land but also…
—​​​​​​​ Did you park the car under it?
—​​​​​​​ Eh? What? What need of chariots have we?
—​​​​​​​ Never mind chariots — did you park our car under the chestnut tree which it always gets full of birds?
—​​​​​​​ The chariot…
—​​​​​​​ No, our Renault Clio — did you or did you not park it under the pigeon tree?
—​​​​​​​ Doves.
—​​​​​​​ Pigeons.
—​​​​​​​ Cooing doves.
—​​​​​​​ They do more than coo! I was three hours scrubbing it all off last time you parked under that tree.
—​​​​​​​ But my love, the flowers, the doves, the, the figs…
—​​​​​​​ You did, didn’t you? Parked it right under the pigeons when I’ve asked you time and again not to…
—​​​​​​​ Did you hear I said the figs are in?
—​​​​​​​ Yes brilliant, woop-de-doo for the figs. But did you park…
—​​​​​​​ OK, I’ll move it. I’m going.
—​​​​​​​ Oh you’re forgetting something…
—​​​​​​​ What?
—​​​​​​​ You’ll need a sponge and a bucket.
—​​​​​​​ Sigh.
—​​​​​​​ See once you’ve cleaned it up?
—​​​​​​​ Yes?
—​​​​​​​ We could go for a nice wee drive out to the park maybe, mind the big one where you first asked me out? And then we can get those figs.
—​​​​​​​ Can we?
—​​​​​​​ Yes! But for now just let me have my toast.
—​​​​​​​ Right ho I’ll move it.
—​​​​​​​ Oi! You’re forgetting. Bucket!
—​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​Bucket!

Sometimes our lives are flushed with the romance of flowers and figs and doves — and sometimes it is allergies, pigeons and buckets. But whether it be walks in the park or sneezing and scrubbing — the call to adventure is there, with our loved ones and with the one who loves us more than all.


Dear God,
Bless our adventures
planned and unplanned
that blossom in the midst of the mundane.