Furlough

Suddenly a word is in the news that has had little usage in recent years.

Furlough.

It is traditionally used to describe a time away from the front line for soldiers. I first came across it in a church context. As a young Christian I went to a Brethren church and was told that a lady missionary was coming to visit on furlough. I thought it must be some kind of vehicle!

Actually it is a vehicle of sorts. It’s one that allows you to take time out. To rest.

For many in the UK the word is not welcome. Its newer definition is being laid off from work with 80% of pay due to the effects of the Corona Virus on our economy.

But maybe in this lockdown, we can all experience some furlough in its original sense? The root of the word is ‘verlof’. This is Dutch and means ‘permission’.

We have permission to take time out right now. Permission to dream, to plan, to think. To do something different. Not to waste the time but to use it as time away from the front line.

So what will we do? Read a book we have always intended to read? Pick up the watercolours again? Study a language? For those of us with a Christian faith, to go deeper into a book of the Bible?

I appreciate that some reading this will be experiencing furlough with kids running around their feet and the sense that they have less time than at work! Yes, but it’s still a different time. There will still be moments that can be used in a different way.

I don’t expect that most of us reading these words will ever get another furlough. Let’s appreciate the blessing along with the challenge.

From Purple Flares to Old Pulteney

I remember the details of the day. A warm September  morning, 1976. I was early, so walked around St James’s Square, London, a couple of times before plucking up the courage to go in. The Clerical, Medical & General Life Assurance Society. My first job.

I wore a three piece purple suit with ridiculous flared trousers. Despite that, they let me in. I worked as a Pensions Documentation Clerk and quickly found that pensions wasn’t as boring as the name suggested to a twenty-one year old.

I realised that pretty much everything in pensions revolved around the age of 65 – the normal retirement age for men (It’s changed a bit nowadays). So I did my own calculation on that very first day – when would I reach that milestone? It was with some relief that by my calculation, the day would never arrive. It was so far in the future.

10^th April 2020.

Well here we are. The flares are long gone (though I still like purple). In this strange season of lockdown, my plans to celebrate with a tour of the Scottish whisky distilleries went by the way, though Roh set out a tour of the garden to find my own bottles of whisky! And my main present was a bottle of 12 year old Old Pulteney single malt, from the northernmost distillery in the British Isles. I like to think that my tastes have improved a little since the purple flares.

Where did the time go? How did I get here?

The answer is by the grace of God.

I’m grateful for every step of the journey. Thankful for God’s goodness, a beautiful wife, four amazing children, three incredible sons/daughter in laws and two awesome granddaughters. And a pretty decent career in pensions.

The day did arrive. It wasn’t such a long time. May I encourage you, as the Bible says, to ‘count your days and seek a heart of wisdom.’ (Psalm 90)

My Old Testament hero is Caleb. He was still conquering mountains at the age of 85 (that’s where the idea for this blog came from 15 years ago), so I trust I still have plenty of time to count my days and seek wisdom. And still plenty of time to continue to conquer the mountains of life for the One who conquered all for me.