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Spiritual reflection to start the day with writer and broadcaster, Anna Magnusson

Good morning.

The small room I call my study – which has a desk, my laptop, a filing cabinet and some bookshelves - is where I write. My desk faces south, and every day I look through the window - to the garden hedge, a field beyond, and up to the skyline of trees and moorland.

The changing seasons are right in front of me when I sit here. From the white stillness of winter to the wild green of summer. I’m used to this natural transformation - I grew up in the countryside, and then lived in the town for many years in a top floor flat overlooking a park. Finally, not long ago, I returned to fields and trees and a big sky.

There’s something reassuring about looking out at a hedge. A few weeks ago, it was still bare and full of woody gaps. But as Spring approached, it began to come to life. It’s still greening and thickening, and soon I won’t be able to see the ambling sheep through the leafy branches. Small birds will dart underneath for shelter. And then, summer will burst on to centre stage.

I don’t take any of it for granted: the rhythms of the year, the gift of the natural world, the returning light. I don’t ever forget the blessings of a peaceful life in a peaceful country. Or that I have a roof over my head, food each day, and the freedom to go where I want.

This morning my prayer is for people who live in places where there is no peace – who endure destruction and violence and fear every day. God be with them, God protect them – and may God forgive a world which unleashes war. Amen.