June (and the beginning of July) were just too busy – but brilliant. Each Saturday, there was something on, or I was away. Lots of travelling, long days and late nights. From the 1^st weekend in June spent in Scargill House in Yorkshire, 2^nd Saturday there was afternoon tea in our church, the following weekend I was in Bala, North Wales. Then next Saturday, I helped organise a fundraising coffee morning for Relay for Life in Pontypool. The last weekend in June was the Relay itself.  Oh and the 1^st week in July was a church afternoon tea again. Last Saturday I was sitting down – it was weird, I felt like I should have been dashing about somewhere…

It’s a relief to be able to stop for a bit and review the non-stop weekends of busyness. In all the travelling and organising, there were moments when I was stopped in my tracks and made to be still. This is one of them…

When I was looking at our route back to Pontypool from Bala, I noticed we could travel via Aberfan. I’d wanted to visit Aberfan since hearing about the tragedy in 2016, 50 years after it happened. A colliery spoil tip collapsed killing 116 children and 28 adults. It engulfed the local primary school and some of the buildings nearby. I hadn’t heard about it before the anniversary, and was shocked by the reports I read about the tragedy. And that it happened only 20 miles from where I lived. I didn’t want to gawp or stare, or nosey into a town’s history of grief. But I did want to see for myself an image that had imprinted on my mind when I saw it on the news. Two rows of white marble scalloped headstones. The resting place of those who had lost their lives.

It was a steep climb up to the grave yard and sight of the gravestones took my breath away. Even now it’s hard to get my head around such heartbreaking history. Rich and I walked slowly along the row, without much conversation. There was nothing to say. Every so often I stopped and shook my head in disbelief as I read messages of love and loss on the gravestones. I stopped again at one grave whose flowers had fallen over. I fixed them as best I could and found myself talking to the 7 year old buried there. “Let me tidy these for you love,” I said, trying not to cry for the little stranger. “There you go. Can’t leave you untidy now, can I? It’s the least I can do for you.” It was overwhelming. A moment that will never leave me.

I spent many “why God?” moments after that. And though I don’t agree with those who believe God is cruel and uninterested, I can understand why tragic events bring those responses. It sent me back to the book of Isaiah, which I had been studying for a while. I’m not about to preach a sermon, but reading God’s Word reminds me that even in the most devastating situations, he is worth trusting. I get that many would disagree with me, but I still believe God is good.