Today is the day of Pentecost, the day back in the first century when the Holy Spirit descended upon the first (Christian) believers in Jerusalem. It is also the birthday of the Church as such. Truly, it must have been bedlam, with disciples rushing into the streets and preaching in myriad different languages, astonishing passers-by.

The Holy Spirit that day was said to be  'a violent wind' (Acts 2:2) and today, we have a lot of wind blowing outside. It's very cold and gusty. It is hard not to reflect and compare the windy day we have and the day then that was Pentecost. It is constant reminder of God's abiding presence and overarching sovereignty.

Yesterday I wrote a poem about wind because it was indeed windy. The birds were in hiding. I have rarely seen such an absence and you will know that we have a large bird population in the Mountains. Today they seem to have adjusted to the weather and are getting about, albeit sometimes clumsily.

I never miss a windy day without quoting my favourite poem on the subject. 

'The house have been far out at sea all night,

The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills,

Wind stampeding the fields under the window,

Floundering black astride and blinding wet..'

The man could write, could he not?