The Gift of Showing Up ~ The July Beagle

For anyone who’s been hiding, hurting, or hesitant to engage—this is for you.

The Song of the Lark (1884), Jules Breton

“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.”
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Hello dear friends,

Welcome to the July Beagle, written from a sultry, summery London shaped by days of long iced drinks, sleep under a fan, 9:30pm walks in shorts, spontaneous ice cream runs, sweat running down your back, mosquito bites, sleepy afternoons with books, and an elevated mood only sunshine and good company can bring.

I’m learning to play the Ukulele at the moment, a sweet little instrument and easier chords to get started with. Getting into a rhythm is so much fun, building the calluses not so much.

Sunny days with this little chap is such a joy, we spend many hours outside exploring and having fun with friends.

I went for a riding lesson last week as a way to cheer myself in the month on June, a special treat indeed but one which took my inner thighs over a week to recover from, there’s a reason cowboys walk that way! I rode as a young teen for many years, we had a couple of horses over that period so it’s in my blood, definitely a healing practice (thighs aside). This was an assessment session so if I choose to go forward with any future lessons (so expensive!) they’ll know where to group me. Let’s just say ten minutes of stirrupless trotting reminded me I still have muscles I’d happily forgotten.

12yo me on our first pony, Gemma. She was a cheeky minx but kept my teen years free of trouble.

I’m just starting my final project for Uni this term, due Sept 4th. The Module is Christianity & The Contemporary World which I shared a little about last Beagle. I’m not totally landed on my approach yet but I’m exploring ideas about utilisation of Ai in missions/evangelism, language, particularly among Gen Z and Gen Alpha, and looking at TikTok as a modern day marketplace where community meets. You may have seen these types of Reels online lately, there seem to be a host of them cropping up in quick succession, the comment section is usually very revealing in an encouraging way. They seem to be improving also as early versions had the character changing accents and faces mid clip, hilarious. To date, this Reel has had 795.5K views, many others exceed the millions. I wonder what Jesus thinks?

Or alternatively you can contribute £2 to The Oxford Studies Kitty Jar via this LINK.

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Did you know I link every book, film, recipe etc in the Beagle? Where you see words in BOLD and UNDERLINED, simply click the link.

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"Lord God, whatever I have written which is of Thine, let Thy people recognise. If I have written aught which is of mine, forgive Thou, and let Thy people forgive."
~ St.Augustine

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Still Life

Borrowed Roses by Moonlight

This would make a great screensaver for your phone. The is effect is achieved by placing the cut rose heads onto a mirror with the sky as the backdrop. There are a few tricks but I can’t give away all my secrets 😉

Still Life (bonus)
Drenched in Yellow

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Or alternatively you can contribute £2 to The Oxford Studies Kitty Jar via this LINK.

Before I move on, I want to say a heartfelt thank you again to my paid subscribers. Your support has meant more than you know. Your financial contributions help me keep going, not just creatively, but practically. It's quite a lifeline, and I'm deeply grateful.

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Ruminations

This is something I've written about before, but it's on my heart to share again, mostly because I need the reminder myself. It’s all too easy to become entangled in our own troubles, pulled down into a darkness that feels impossible to shake. Some people seem able to shrug off tumultuous waters as if they roll effortlessly from their backs. Others, however, like myself, sometimes flounder, sinking like lead weights while friends and loved ones look on, wondering why you don’t simply reach out your arms and swim… especially when those arms have proven so good at rescuing and helping others. To most onlookers, we appear to be waving, not drowning, so skilled at masking and playing by the social rules. After all, no one wants to wander through life endlessly like Eeyore, so we conceal the inner currents.

Yet, some things in life are heavy, downright heartbreaking. A trauma bomb goes off, and there’s no quick, chirpy bounce back. Some wounds run deep with grief. We might learn to live with them, but we may never fully recover. Can you relate?

Sometimes the way back to ourselves, back to love, to clarity, to healing, starts not with looking inward, but by looking up and out. It begins with noticing others. With allowing ourselves to feel their ache, their story, their need. That kind of noticing can bring us back to life too.

It was February 2004 and I was navigating a miscarriage. Anyone who has experienced this kind of loss knows, it’s not only the absence of a little one that breaks your heart, but the absence of all the hopes and dreams you’d just begun to imagine and make room for in your future world.

At the time, I was a leader in a church (Big caveat here as to the validity of said church, I’ve written about this cult at length previously which explains some of my odd thinking at the time). As a leader, I received what might be considered appropriate gestures; a bunch of flowers, a note, a phone call. And while those things were appreciated, the people, the leaders, stayed at a distance. Except for one woman.

Maryanne came to my door.

She wasn’t anyone ‘important.’ No title. No official role. She ‘just played piano’ on Sundays. I was on the phone when she arrived, so I gestured and waved her in. Without hesitation, she found her way to the kitchen and kettle, browsing cupboards like she belonged there. She moved without ceremony, without awkwardness, without eggshells. And that simple act of making tea in my kitchen, broke me in the best possible way.

I hadn’t known how much I needed someone to come close. To be real. To be human. To love without fuss.

What moved me so deeply, I realised later, was how unexpected it was. The toxic church environment had quietly trained me to expect nothing real. We were supposed to be extraordinary people, victorious, unshaken, spiritual. So I learned to perform connection without living it. I wore masks. I recited platitudes. I became a shell.

That day, Maryanne put flesh on the shell. She gave it a heartbeat. I cried on her shoulder, we gently spoke, she held my hand, we even laughed softly, it felt holy.

Maryanne didn’t do anything heroic. She simply walked into my kitchen, filled the kettle, and stayed. And that small, ordinary act cracked something open in me.

It showed me what love looks like when it’s not performative, not filtered through roles or religious expectations. It was human. Real. Embodied. And it reached the part of me I hadn’t even known was longing to be seen.

I’ve thought about that moment a lot lately.

Because this past year, I’ve found myself pulling back, not just from social media, but from people. From life. I didn’t want to perform connection. I didn’t want to risk shallow conversations or plastered-on smiles. And if I’m honest, I was afraid to open up again at all.

But something is stirring in me. A quiet shift.

As I stepped away from the world and engagement, I’ve beuan to hear the quieter things again, God’s voice in my own heart, the stories right in front of me, the ache of others that mirrors my own. And like back in 2004, I’m learning again that it’s not the grand gestures that heal us. Its presence. It’s love that lingers long enough to make tea and stay.

So I’m heading back out here, not in a hurry, not with certainty, and not because everything feels resolved. But with a quiet willingness to be present. To stay soft. To try again. To be a blessing to others.

Not because I feel strong or sure, but because I still believe, somewhere beneath the weariness, that love matters. And maybe, in some small way, I can be part of that love, for someone else who’s floundering too.

Can I invite you to consider the same?

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Something new and life-giving has recently been rekindled, I've begun partnering again with my dear friend and mentor Sally Clarkson of Whole Heart Ministries to support the Mum Heart UK movement.

Mum Heart UK is now on Instagram and TikTok. I’ll regularly be bringing you Sally’s inspirational content with biblical encouragement with a British flavour. You can also join the Facebook group with 600+ UK members. Why not join the tribe 🇬🇧

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Art

“Life imposes things on you that you can’t control,
but you still have the choice of how you’re going to live through this”
- Celine Dion

An Andalusian Courtyard (Andalusian Laziness), ca. 1900, Julio Romero de Torres

This painting by Julio Romero de Torres is quite compelling to me, it presents a contradiction of mood and possibility. On the one hand the woman sits in muted tones and shadow, she seems contemplative, possibly sad, yet behind her shines a gloriously lit summer garden, verdant greens warm and inviting. Two worlds side by side, this is possible.

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Poetry

Recharge
by David Gate

Sleep will recharge
the body and the mind
but nothing restores the heart
except goodness
so let no good thing
pass unnoticed
and let every great thing
be celebrated
for all its worth and wonder
to keep your heart renewed

Pre-order HERE UK or HERE USA

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Listening

I am honestly still immersing myself in my beloved Twenty Øne Pilots. Their music and Tyler’s writing provide a daily scaffold for my mental health and faith. As I navigate my own mental health I find I need the difficult Psalms, the songs which give me permission to go there and guide me through the dark parts of my heart. The beauty and power of the Psalms is that they usually circle back to hope, and I need that also. TØP music is cathartic and helps me do that.

“There’s faith and there’s sleep / We need to pick one, please, because faith is to be awake.”

— Car Radio

A subtle line about presence vs. numbness.

This is a moving example of Tyler Jospeh’s beautiful lyrics and the way he expresses his struggle with his mental health. In Routines in The Night he talks about ‘some doors have STAY OUT spray painted in white’, this line represents those hidden places we dare not go, or fear to let others into.

Stripping it back a bit to a gentle piano backdrop is Sherwood Robert’s new album Curiosity which is out now.

This is speaking to me of hope, of love and the simple beauty of presence, Beautiful Moment by Sinta Mantovani.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
and saves the crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18 (NRSV)

Reading

Still working my way gently through At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald. My principal Michael Lloyd recommended this as a fictional work with themes on theodicy and I can now see why.

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Watching

Puzzle, Netflix.

Goodness, this has stayed with me since watching and I think I’ll go back for another study. The opening scene caught me totally by surprise and perfectly sets the main character’s story arc in motion, I was not expecting this film at all. The first scene bookends so poetically and subtly with one of the closing scenes and her husband, maybe you’ll catch it if you decide to watch it. It does contain some occasional strong language (in context), but this is an achingly beautiful human story, and definitely one for the women. Maybe I need to start a category for films I wouldn’t necessarily recommend, but you might want to watch anyway, on your own, in your room, with your laptop. You know, the way we sometimes do.

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For fun

On a scale of decaf to triple shot, which brew best describes your mood?

Signing off

“Suffering brings you closer to God.”
“I’ve sought only to get closer to God’s truth through beauty.”
“If it is truth you are seeking, then perhaps you are looking in the wrong place. There is only one truth we as mortals can ever hope to know, and that is love.”

— Leonardo da Vinci, speaking to his muse in the TV series Leonardo

Friends, thank you for being here. I hope, in the months ahead, our connection continues to deepen. I’m holding on to the quiet belief that what I plant now, in both learning and wrestling, will bear fruit in time. But it’s okay not to strive; fruit grows when it’s ready. I can’t force it. I don’t want to try.

This past year has challenged my creativity. It’s often been a difficult to find the spark or the energy to bring beauty to the page. But I believe it’s coming back, slowly, quietly, and with it, the joy of bookish chats, poetry readings, Oxford papers, photography, and creative play. I’m trusting that even in the struggle, something true and lovely is forming.

The quote above reminds me that beauty, suffering, and love are often woven together, and that seeking truth may look less like certainty and more like presence and doubt, that finding goodness and truth is felt more in the touch of a hand and the filling of a kettle than in any polished answer or tidy resolution. That’s the path I’m on. Maybe you are too.

I’ll leave you with the prescription below for all things pertaining to loveliness and quality of life. I plan to follow it as much as I can... though I might skip Wednesday.

Blessings, grace, peace, and love to you—
Jacqui x