Christmas Cat blogging

Tallis and Dillon are indulging in a practice that, depending on your perspective, could be seen as either sleeping with the enemy or a seasonal enactment of Isaiah's peaceable kingdom

Actually, ever since he saw the photos of Songbird's crib, complete with friendly beasts, Tallis has been pressing me to post this poem by the Gloucestershire poet U.A. Fanthorpe. So, for RevCatPals everywhere

Cat in the Manger

In the story, I'm not there.
Ox and ass arranged at prayer:
But me? Nowhere.

Anti-cat evangelists
How on earth could you have missed
Such an obvious and able
Occupant of any stable?

Who excluded mouse and rat?
The harmless, necessary cat.
Who snuggled in with the holy pair?
Me. And my purr.

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
(Who got it wrong,
Who left out the cat)
Remember that,
Wherever He went in this great affair
I was there.

A Merry Christmas Friday Five

One way and another, today felt high on frustration and low on achievement, so my supply of seasonal cheer was endangered, till RevHRod produced her Christmas Friday Five. Having contemplated the delights ahead, though, I'm in a far more mellow state. Thank you :-)

1. What was one of your favorite childhood gifts that you gave?
I used to plant bowls of hyacinths with E, my honorary mother...She would hide them away in the dark somewhere till they began to shoot and, in a good year, they were just ready to bloom to be given as gifts when Christmas came. I still feel vaguely unprepared if there isn't a bowl of hyacinths lurking somewhere about the place as December wears on.

2. What is one of your favorite Christmas recipes? Bonus points if you share the recipe with us.
Not strictly a Christmas recipe, but one that is inextricably part of childhood Christmasses for me was Aunt May's Chocolate Cake. Aunt May was the youngest of my Grandmother's sisters. She'd married late and was childless, so had spoiled first my father and then me for many a long year...at Christmas the spoiling took the form of a tin of cheese straws for him, and The Cake(awash with chocolate icing, cherries and chocolate curls) for me. Thankfully I elicited the recipe before she died, aged 99 years and 10 months, and it is now the essential expression of birthday festivities for my children (though I've never made it as successfully as Aunty May did). Too weary to look it out tonight - but it's a goodie, truly.

3. What is a tradition that your family can't do without? (And by family, I mean family of origin, family of adulthood, or that bunch of cool people that just feel like family.)
Oh, so many. We are very traditional at Christmas. We all HAVE to be home before we can decorate the tree. On Christmas Eve, after supper, we have to sing certain carols...HG always does The Little Road to Bethlehem and all the singing Flemings take a verse each of "Now light one thousand Christmas lights". Hugger Steward plays descants on his flute..Then we read certain Christmas stories, always ending with The Good Little Christmas Tree, before heading out for Midnight Mass.
On Christmas morning, it's stockings before I leap up for the 8.00 Eucharist. If I'm lucky there might be be time for a croissant or pain chocolat before the main Parish Communion (which everyone attends...though it takes me alot longer to get home than the rest of the family). Once we're there, it's a glass of champage, and then just one tree present each before lunch...the others have to wait, and are opened in turn later in the afternoon...
Later on during the holiday, we have to watch The Box of Delights and play assorted silly word games. Mostly we just have to be together.


4. Pastors and other church folk often have very strange traditions dictated by the "work" of the holidays. What happens at your place?
There is just so much church between 4.00 Christmas Eve, when the Crib service happens, and the end of the Eucharist at around 11.45 on Christmas day that it's tempting to say that what happens is a pile of sleeping Flemings on the sofa for most of the afternoon...but last year I think we cracked this, thanks to the judicious substitution of cold salmon with yummy salads for turkey etc...No longer replete as well as exhausted, I actually found it possible to stay awake while we unwrapped presents. In previous years, we'd found ourselves opening the majority on Boxing Day, or even later....so this feels like progress!


5. If you could just ditch all the traditions and do something unexpected... what would it be?
I don't think I'd really want to ditch any...Grumpy and panicky though I may be on this Friday before Christmas, as the "to do" list spirals out of control, I'm still not remotely tempted by alternative ways of doing it...though if it weren't incompatible with Advent I'd love to spend some time in Vienna visiting Christmas markets, drinking gluwein and crunching through real snow to the music of Mozart. Or something like that...But I'd need to be safely home in time for Christmas Eve, the best day of the whole year.

Dark nights

We've not yet reached the shortest day, but this year I'm conscious of so many friends who are finding it almost impossible to engage in any way with the mad partying of the world as it prepares for Christmas, or even with the gentler anticipation that fills our churches with wonder and longing as the days of Advent speed past.

This year, friends have been bereaved, have dealt with broken promises and broken relationships. This year, friends have suffered illness or, worse, have watched those they love suffering.
This year, for some, the promise of Emmanuel, God with us seems all but meaningless.
So when I found this prayer for the longest night, I had to post it for them, and for anyone else who really needs an assurance that the Light shines in the darkness.

Holy God of Advent
You became weak
So we would find strength in our moments of heartbreak;
you left the safety of heaven
to wander the wilderness of the world,
holding our hands when we feel hopeless;
you set aside your glory
to hold our pain so we might be healed,
even when there seems no hope;
you became one of us,
so we would never be alone in any moment,
in any circumstance..

So come now, child of Bethlehem
to strengthen us in these days.
May we feel your presence
in a way we have never known,
not just as one born in a stable
long ago and far away
but as the One born in our hearts.

You have promised to go before us:
into our brokenness, into hospital rooms,
into empty houses, into graveyards,
into our future held by God,
and you are here, even now,
waiting for each of us;
to serve us,
to hold us,
to comfort us,
to heal us,
to live us, now and for ever.

ETA Though I promise I do have other books on my shelves, this is yet another offering from the ever-wonderful Candles and Conifers

If you came in the Spring

I meant to read this at the end of my sermon on Great Expectations yesterday, but in the event it felt that I might already have spoken too many words, so instead I offer it here, another gem from the Iona Community's Candles and Conifers, this time from Thom M Shuman, which reflects further on the unexpectedness of the nativity

If you came in the spring,
we could expect newness,
bright yellow flowers
to soften your path,
the songs of birds
to herald your coming.

But you came in
winter's despair;
the chill of complacency
settled upon us.

If you came in summer
we could expect you
to be bronzed
blonde,
stepping from the sea.

But you came
in a stable,
a wrinkled baby
with animals as midwives,
and angels for playmates.


Help us to set down
our parcels of expectations
to reach down and scoop
you up in our arms,
your laughing breath
giving us life. Amen

Advent 3

was extremely full and busy, but pretty good on the whole. Heavy frost did not deter the intrepid 8.00 congregation - bizarrely, numbers were actually up appreciably, perhaps because those parishioners who will be away for Christmas wanted to touch base with their church family before they depart.The sermon went down better than I'd feared at 10.00. Somehow I felt paralysed by the wonderful passages set for the day, which seemed in themselves to say all I might want to, rather better than I could hope to...so that my best efforts seemed doomed from the outset, even with a little help from my friends - but it all felt much better from the pulpit than on the final read-through in the study.

Busy afternoon of domestic Christmas preps, Evensong and then time for carol singing with the youth group and a good proportion of the choir too. Never been, so cold, honestly, but the singing was good (and our first carols of the year, which made it extra real) and it all looked look very beautiful, with a heavy frost sparkling on the ground, mirroring the stars twinkling above us.
I was specially pleased to sing for a neighbour who is dealing with renal failure with grace and style (when I last visited her, she had just finished decorating for Christmas and insisted on opening a bottle of pink fizz in honour of this). It really matters to be able to take little bits of Christmas to people, I'm certain.
In a little over an hour, we raised £76 for the Children's Society before admitting defeat and returning here to wine nobly mulled by Longsuffering Clockmaker (who is a bit of a domestic god on a good day :-) ) and as much hot food as we could muster...
Our tree stands waiting in Advent mode, lit but undecorated (since we need Hattie G home before that can be thought of), the candle bridges were alight and seeing our sitting room full of people I'm fond of, it was easy to believe that Christmas will soon be here, bringing with it the promise of light shining in our darkness.

It's Saturday

....so what better than a Friday Five?

Over at RevGals, Mother Laura says:

Can you believe that in two days we'll be halfway through Advent? Gaudete Sunday: pink candle on the advent wreath, rose vestments for those who have them, concerts and pageants in many congregations. Time to rejoice!

Rejoice in the nearness of Christ's coming, yes, but also in the many gifts of the pregnant waiting time when the world (in the northern hemisphere, at least) spins ever deeper into sweet, fertile darkness.

What makes you rejoice about:

1. Waiting? Waiting is great...I need lots of little stepping stones of happiness to aim towards, and the anticipation is an important part of the journey. It's why Christmas Eve is the most wonderful night of the year...Leaving the house dark but for the tree's lights, which hint the mysterious shapes of parcels jumbled beneath its branches and walking through silent streets to a church taut with candlelit expectation and deep stillness. In that moment, the experience to come is almost more real than when it truly arrives. I love it.

2. Darkness?
The restfulness of not needing to look out for faces, familiar and less so, who expect and need a greeting as I cycle up to church
Pinpoints of light.
Stars on a frosty night.
The candlebridge in the window welcoming me home.

3. Winter?
Hibernation by a real fire...Books, cats, children home, gentle creativity...

4. Advent?
Oh - real Advent is one great cause of rejoicing. This year started well, with the best Advent Carol service I've been part of since Cambridge, I think, - but since then I've blown it somewhat, for no discernible reason...The Advent book has not been followed daily, the pauses for thought have just not happened - but perhaps I'll pick up the threads when we reach the 17th and embark on the Great O antiphons - which carry the longing of centuries.

5. Jesus' coming? Adrian Plass tells a wonderful story of a hell fire preacher who placed an empty chair at the head of the nave in church and told his congregation to imagine that Jesus had returned and was sitting there..."Now aren't you fearful of his judgement?" the guy thundered and Adrian Plass sat there feeling excited and longing and happy all at once...That's where I am. Those Isaiah passages looking forward light up parts of me that could overwhelm me with longing at any moment. I feel always on the brink of tears of yearning as we wait on His coming

Making a mark

It's very odd to think that this will be my last Christmas at St M's, - but what a privilege to know this, rather than simply continuing in the everyday confidence that nothing will ever change (a particular feature of this season, with so many traditions in churches, schools and families to lull us into an illusion of unbroken continuity) - until one day, quite suddenly, change it does.

It's too early for serious stock-taking, and on the whole it's not up to me anyway to evaluate what difference my being here may have made...but there are things that I'm happy about, things I'll remember on wet Wednesdays when I'm really needing encouragement. I even have a special box (a brainwave from my very good friend the Canon, who seems to be too busy being wonderful to blog at all these days,) where I can keep tangible reminders of valued people, important connections made and recognised. The box itself was a gift from top daughter Hattie Gandhi, who found it, a splendid example of Indian carving, complete with secret catch, in the Fair Trade shop in Cardiff. I love the idea that these are my private confidence boosts, my secret evidence that sometimes I've been enabled to join in a corner of kingdom work.


I guess it's natural to want some sort of record. What else, after all, is this blog?
Recently I found myself in part of a much loved public building that isn't usually accessible to the public - and found alot of evidence from others who had been there before me. It amused me that though they wanted to make their mark, their public declaration "I was here" had been made in semi- privacy. Not quite the same as my "Kingdom box" but still...

My s-i-l forwarded this to me, and I think it deserves as much coverage as possible, hence including it here

I just signed an emergency petition trying to save the crucial climate change talks in Bali, Indonesia right now by telling the US, Canada and Japan to stop blocking an agreement. You can sign it here:

Almost all countries have agreed to cut rich country carbon emissions by 2020--which scientists say is crucial to stop catastrophic global warming, and will also help bring China and the developing world onboard. But with just 2 days left in the conference, the US and its close allies Canada and Japan have rejected any mention of such cuts.

We can't let three governments hold the world hostage and block agreement on this desperate issue.

There's still 2 days left to turn this around - click below to sign the petition - it will be delivered direct to summit delegates, through stunts and in media advertisements, so our voices will actually be heard. But we need a lot of us, fast, to join in if we're going to make a difference. Just click on the link to add your name:

Thanks!

I have no idea if gathering names on a petition like this will actually change anything - cynicism says that it's unlikely - but it must surely be worth a go.
If you're unfamiliar with Avaaz, as I was, here's the info from the email I received after signing the petition

Avaaz.org is an independent, not-for-profit global campaigning organization that works to ensure that the views and values of the world's people inform global decision-making. (Avaaz means "voice" in many languages.) Avaaz receives no money from governments or corporations, and is staffed by a global team based in London, New York, Paris, Washington DC, Geneva, and Rio de Janeiro."

Over to you, blogmates

St Lucy's day

Given Hattie Gandhi's true identity, the fact that my very favourite Godmother has lived in Denmark for most of my life (where the St Lucy's day traditions are honoured to the full) and the fact that I've always, always loved the poetry of John Donne, I couldn't let today go without lighting some candles and reflecting on the gathering darkness and the Light that is to come. However, Donne's Nocturnall upon St Lucie's Day is considerably gloomier than I'm feeling at the moment, as I bask in the unfamiliar glow of having produced the order of service for Christmas morning a full 10 days in advance, so here's one of Ruth Burgess's lovely prayers for Advent instead (you'll find it and so many other resources in Candles and Conifers)

Bright star-maker God
travel with us through Advent
Shine into our dark corners
Lead us into ways of justice
Warm us with joy and wonder
Bring us to new birth.

Signs of the times

As I mentioned earlier, St M's is a popular venue for school carol services, and this evening we were packed to the gunwhales with parents and friends - and the children themselves, of course. Before the service, I helped hand out service sheets - and saw a pretty traditional selection of carols represented ; "Good King Wenceslaus" "O Come, all ye faithful" "Ding Dong Merrily on High" and "The Twelve Days of Christmas". Though the evening is always billed as a Carol Service in the past few years it has been more like a Christmas play with audience carols thrown in for good measure...so it was no surprise that tonight's offering began very firmly in a secular present. What was more startling was the fact that for the first year ever, there was not a single reference (beyond the carols, which were kind of incidental ) to the nativity itself. The play, which was very well presented, and featured some splendid singing from all the Y5 children, was based around a sort of treasure hunt to find the missing fifth gold ring, without which The Twelve Days of Christmas could not be completed...There were references to the qualities that might help to recover the ring - giving, being of united as one, listening and doing,- there were references to the elusive "Christmas gold" which seemed to represent the heart of the season - but there wasn't even a glance towards the child in the manger. I realise that this is a multi-cultural, post Christendom society - but Ch Kings is a pretty solidly middle England kind of place, where traditions have a great deal of power...It seems to me that we've maybe passed some sort of watershed - certainly my own perceptions have been challenged uncomfortably. I was further disconcerted by the fact that though everyone there was given a hymn sheet, and none of the carols were remotely obscure, very few of the parents actually joined in with the singing when they were invited to.

It is common knowledge that singing is no longer something that British adults choose to do - and this saddens me hugely....But Christmas carols, I'd imagined, were something different. They would surely be safe for a generation at least...but even to please their children, this group of parents was just not going to sing. Music, particularly singing, has for so long been one of my clearest windows onto God - so I came home decidedly pensive. Took this snap with my phone as we sang (or didn't) the final carol. The rood screen veiled in polythene is disturbingly symbolic of a gospel almost veiled by the competing pressures of a secular Christmas.

I'm not, as I hope you realise, in any way criticising the school or the excellent production. I'm just pondering sadly the gulf between where we currently are as church and where we might believe ourselves to be. I guess, really, I'm just learning the hard way.

Evidence that life continues...

Still here - thanks for asking! Just rather alot of life about the place at the moment and it's all rather manic...

• Many schools in the parish means many Carol services, rehearsals and end of term assemblies (all trucking along quite nicely, I'm glad to say - and now that my own children are so ancient it's great to have opportunities to engage with small people in tea-towels..)

• An 18th birthday means a party and many empties (but at least the domesticclimate is so green that there is no question of not washing and recyling)

• Many services means many sermons (no of course I've not written them yet - but I think I can see where both Advent 3 and Christmas morning sermons are heading...and I have an outline for the brand new Family Eucharist for Christmas too so things are feeling quite positive there)

• Many friends means much shopping (which I positively enjoyed doing in Cardiff with Hattie Gandhi - much much better as a shared activity) University life is working itself up to a frenzy of Christmas celebration even as I write: at the weekend I got to hear HG's choir sing a splendid concert - including some Lassus to die for - and even dropped in on the household Christmas of her best-uni-girl-friend [in the house HG will be sharing next year] where mince pies were being made without the aid of rolling pins and everything was very purry and contented)

So I think I'm fighting a losing battle with Advent. I'm still trying to think meaningful Advent thoughts, and will get back to you if any of them actually emerge, but meanwhile please say a prayer for all those for whom this is a painfully difficult time...particularly for two Davids, both of whom have very recently lost their life's companion, and for whom the light of Christmas is needed more than ever this year.

Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth

but it's my belief that he does it on purpose.
This afternoon I took my distinctly achey back to see the wonderful McTimoney chiropractor who cheers it so reliably.
T is wonderful - but her work doesn't come free, so it makes sense not to do anything that might strain, disturb or otherwise upset my back for at least a few hours afterwards.
But when I came home from Evening Prayer, it was to a Dillon who was black where he should have been white, and whose b.o. was unbearable.
So, I've been crouched over the bath washing a recalcitrant jack russell.
I know he does evil things all the time - but how does he know to tailor them so precisely?
Wretched animal. That's £35 he owes me!
He really has got to go....

Preparation preparation - an Advent Friday Five

Sally has had a difficult week, which has made her pause for thought in much the same way that my Indian experience last year made me stop and think before leaping headlong into the seasonal rush...
So her Friday Five is devoted to a topic I guess I barely understand - being prepared

1. You have a busy week, pushing out all time for preparing worship/ Sunday School lessons/ being ready for an important meeting ( or whatever equivalent your profession demands)- how do you cope?
If I don't have too much on, the chances are that I'll procrastinate until I'm under that sort of pressure anyway. Its fatal if I don't have too much on...This week, because most of the pressure is longer term, I feel that I've achieved basically nothing. Grrrr

2. You have unexpected visitors, and need to provide them with a meal- what do you do?
Seafood pasta. Frozen seafood. Jar of pasta sauce souped up with a glass of wine and a few tons of garlic. Creme fraiche if I've got any. Works every time, specially if we drink the rest of the bottle while the pasta cooks.
Send a child out to the late shop for salad, fruit and choccies...BINGO

Three discussion topics:

3. Thinking along the lines of this weeks advent theme; repentance is an important but often neglected aspect of advent preparations.....I'm mostly penitent that I've not even begun to engage with the themes...

4. Some of the best experiences in life occur when you simply go with the flow.....Absolutely. Couldn't agree more...In fact, I wasn't absolutely sure that there was any alternative direction.
Is there really??

5. Details are everything, attention to the small things enables a plan to roll forward smoothly...
You what?? Details? Are those the little bumpy things that roll around on the floor and sometimes trip me up...a bit like buttons but different? Hmnn....No. I don't do those.

Bonus if you dare- how well prepared are you for Christmas this year?
Christmas....being on what date exactly? Twenty fifth of what????
No.
That can't be right.
I'll just carry on like this and have it in March, OK?
I did, in all honesty, order a couple of presents last night...but that's more or less it. Cards for 150? Services for rather more? Not so's you notice.
You see, with 2 weeks to go there's not nearly enough pressure to get me really focussed.
Got to keep on blogging onwards...

I've seen the daemon whom they think might be mine - and was rather overwhelmed by his sheer loveliness....so I'd be really grateful if we could establish whether or not he's really mine to keep!
Hattie Gandhi (a very stern critic where film versions of much loved books is concerned) reports entirely favourably on The Golden Compass (once she had got over the small matter of the change of title from the UK version "Northern Lights") - so I guess I need a daemon to accompany me to the cinema.

If you can't explain it with penguins

you're probably onto a loser.


When I first graduated and was having all kinds of fun working as a bookseller in Hatchards of Piccadilly Cardinal Basil Hume wrote a book entitled "To be a Pilgrim"
Since I was the person responsible for the religious books department, this was very much one of my babies and as it climbed its way up The Sunday Times bestseller list I got very used to fielding enquiries about it. So it was that one evening, just before closing time, I found myself embroiled in this conversation
Customer "I wanted to buy Cardinal Hume's new book...I can't remember what it's called"
Kathryn "You mean "To be a Penguin...."
(Well, it was a paperback - albeit not from that particular publisher)
I then went on to confuse the unfortunate customer still futher by assuring him
"You'll find it in the peppermint department in the basement"
No. I don't know what was going on in my poor fried brain either - but ever since, none of my family has been able to sing "He who would valiant be..." without finishing each verse with, at the very least, a brief and surreptitious mime of a penguin's waddle.


So it was a great joy to me when I first arrived here to discover that Marcella, who has long been the motive power behind my beloved Little Fishes, tends to present most of her theology in terms of penguins. Yesterday, for example, she gave us the parable of the wise and foolish penguins...with the added bonus opportunity to cuddle one of the penguin bridesmaids as the story continued. It was, as it always is, just lovely and I reflected that most things in life are improved by the addition of a few amiable birds. After all, the really important truths are on the whole encouragingly simple...and most of the more joyous insights of the past 3 years have come to me via Little Fishes. I think there's a Kingdom saying there somewhere....

However ever now and then a situation comes up which just doesn't lend itself to penguin theology at all...I had one last night, when a ferociously intelligent humanist came round to discuss life, faith and associated matters. I felt so deeply, deeply stupid. We had virtually no language in common as we tried to explore each other's world view.
F.I.H. was charming and the conversation was good - but I became horribly aware of how much I define faith in terms of felt experience....with occasional recourse to penguins.
All in all, not my finest hour.

REALLY special

Once upon a time I only enjoyed classical music - and was incredibly (if silently) snobbish about this - as if somehow true virtue could only be found among those who shared my tastes.

Thankfully, God sent me 3 children who are bright AND musical - and whose horizons are infinitely wider than those of their parent.
He also arranged things so that Greenbelt (off our family map for many many years, since it's pretty impossible for a Bed & Breakfast business to close each year for the August Bank Holiday) should relocate to Cheltenham racecourse - absolutely on our doorstep, even before I became curate at St M's - and via Greenbelt practically every aspect of my life was picked up, shaken and put down in a new and exciting order, which included all sorts of wonderful new sounds.
Greenbelt is the perfect opportunity for even a cautious soul to explore different sorts of music, to hear bands that would have been completely off my map - and to fall madly in love with some of them.

Streets ahead of the field among my brand new passions is Duke Special. I won't even attempt to describe his music* - except to say that he is amazing...both as a writer and performer. I'd first encountered him very briefly at Greenbelt 05, and and this year was among the several thousand who were wowed by his mainstage performance. To find that he was playing in Oxford at a time when I really could get there was almost too good to be true, given the insistent demands of a busy Advent. So last night Hugger Steward and I found ourselves in the relative intimacy of the Carling Academy - and even more bowled over than we'd been at GB. Stunning performance. Stunning performer.Towards the end of he had us all singing along at the top of our voices to "Love goes deeper than this" and bouncing off every surface...then held us spellbound with the intensity of "This could be my last day" - with an ad lib section "sometimes you have to be a little bit broken to let the light shine through" -
Maybe a little broken - isn't everyone?
Unmistakeably deeply deeply special.



ETA **At his My Space page I found this - which gives a slightly clearer picture but really you just need to go over there and listen:

"Using cheese graters, wardrobe doors, pianos, harps, brass, strings and an old gramophone to record the twelve-track debut, Adventures in Gramophone is truly a musical spectacular. Duke Special is one of a kind, a unique and talented young Belfast man whose bruised romanticism and soft Northern tinged vocals are at sharp juxtaposition with his wild dreadlocks, smudged eyeliner and unfeasibly wide trousers.
On stage, Duke Special explodes into musical mayhem the battered old trademark gramophone wheezes, huge cymbals clash, egg whisks and cheese graters break free from the kitchen, a stumpf fiddle screeches and the crushed velvet covered piano thumps and tinks in unison but its the very core of the songs, his heartfelt, passionate poems, that will remain in your head long after the lights have gone down."

A thing of shreds and patches

Back in the summer holidays (an unimaginably long time ago on this bleak December day) I posted a picture of our sitting-room covered in a heap of bright colours as HG and her friends worked on a patchwork for her student room. I promised photos of the finished article, but have only recently sorted out the bluetooth that allows me to upload phone pictures to the computer...so finally, here is the girl in her glorious nest - blandness fully transformed.

As the new vicarage has been decorated (and carpetted - how wonderful is that!!) in totally safe and neutral magnolia, I rather think I'll be needing ways to bring some extra colour into the rooms there myself. Hattie Gandhi, however, is quite clear that she isn't about to create further patchworks any time soon. I think that starting with a double quilt may have been just a shade ambitious. It's a shame. I fancy a patchwork throw just like hers, but different, for the sofa in the study! Such a good conversation piece -
"That blue fabric there is the curtain the dog ate...Oh, and there's a leper's costume from Jesus Christ Superstar".
On reflection, it might be a route to Too Much Information for unsuspecting visitors, who may be reassured by the calm of magnolia - especially when off-set by the joys of the fireplace to come....
In any case, it's quite rare to be able to see the sofa in here for the junk piled upon it.
I did say something earlier about doing some tidying...After all, it is my day off!

Waiting in darkness

Advent Sunday passed in a whirl of activity, which was nearly all good.
The irony did not escape me when I picked up my wrist watch having been woken by the alarm on my phone yesterday morning, to discover that the battery had died. My theme for the "Thought for the day" at 8.00 (borrowed with grateful thanks from Anne le Bas)
"You know what time it is".
Well, maybe not after all - and I certainly failed miserably to answer the challenge I invited the congregation to share, of spending just 2 minutes each day with an open agenda for God, asking Him to direct how best to use the time.My diary was far too full for such indulgences!

However, despite this, there were many God-moments in the course of the busy day. Chief among them were the sheer shiney-ness of the children (far brighter than the candles) at the Christingle service, the beauty of the choir's singing during the Advent Carol service and, as always, the throat-catching moment at the beginning of the service when clergy and servers wait in darkness at the west end of the pitch-black church and gradually the young people of Koinonia, whom I love so much, bring us the light while the choir sing "Sleepers Wake".

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light,
now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility;
that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to life immortal;
through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and forever. Amen.

and I'm thinking about my friends in Tamil Nadu who are part of the AIDS Awareness and Rehabilitation project that opened while we were out there a year ago. To fight the spread of AIDS with a few ancient Singer sewing machines seems laughably inadequate - but the issue of AIDS in India (as in so many other places) is the issue of poverty. It's very simple. Children are infected and dying because their mothers take the only route open to them to earn money for food. Nobody is going to produce anti retroviral drugs for them, because there simply isn't the money - and anyway, few around them care if they live or die. Out there, life is cheap. It's ironic, - the first AIDS funeral I went to was for D., a gay friend, a musician - and the celebration of his life and work was among the most beautiful I remember....The GBLT community and their friends gathered in force to support each other, to show their love in the face of death. Afterwards we drank pink champagne and wept and laughed and wept some more....and it was all so incredibly civilised. Now, as I pray on World AIDS day, I'm thinking about Anjali and her son...about Lili and Sushila and the other girls I met, whose lives are, on the whole, nasty, brutish and short. Who knows how things are for them now, - but not one of them is forgotten by the God to whom they cling.

O God of love whose mercy has always included those who are forgotten,
those who are isolated, those who suffer,
bless, we beseech you, all who are afflicted by HIV and AIDS.
Comfort them in their pain, sustain them in their hopelessness,
And receive them into the arms of your mercy in their dying.
Open our hearts to provide for their needs,
to take away their isolation,
to share in their journey of suffering and sorrow
and to be present with them so they need not die alone.
Bless those who mourn the death of friends and lovers;
may they not be overwhelmed by death
but receive comfrot and strength to meet the days ahead
with trust and hope in your goodness and mercy.

(A prayer from South Africa)

St Andrew's Day...

so NaBloPoMo is over and done with - and Ive managed it.

Let us not even begin to consider why it is so distressingly easy to achieve those things which I have no need to achieve...let's just rejoice that for once I've finished something that I started.
Doing almost anything regularly for 30 days has to be a record for me, so I'm rather pleased - though very aware that quality was sacrificed to regularity along the way.

Nonetheless, if you have been, thanks for reading :-)
Normal patchy service will be resumed with immediate effect.

Grimble

Hot on my post yesterday about the sad demise of Advent, this week's Friday Five is full of the "joys" of the season - the ones that send you screaming from the room. If I didn't know already how much I love and appreciate will smama this would have convinced me :-)

Please tell us your least favorite/most annoying seasonal....

1) dessert/cookie/family food : I hope it won't sound terribly snooty if I say that I utterly detest all of the commercial varieties of brandy butter/rum butter that I've ever tasted....Good home made brandy butter is the only possible justification for Christmas pudding - so to have to consume the one without the other is a miserable experience in my book.


2) beverage (seasonal beer, eggnog w/ way too much egg and not enough nog, etc...) I'm mostly spared yukky drinks...don't think anyone has ever even offered me eggnog (am pretty sure I'd hate it if they did)....and I really love mulled wine. When LCM and I were first married and spent our Christmasses at his parents, there seemed to be an expectation that all women would really enjoy a glass of green chartreuse at the end of Christmas dinner. Deeply, truly and unmistakeably revolting (think bad cough mixture and double it). Thankfully, that tradition passed when the in-laws sold the family home so nowdays I guess I really only dislike drinks that others consume in excess, leading to unhappy atmospheres at social events. (Lord, that sounds sooooo prudish and kill joy. Should I delete? )

3) tradition (church, family, other)
The good thing about being the only child of two only children (deceased) is that I've pretty much been able to set my own family traditions,- so naturally they are completely perfect!
There's nothing specially awful at church either, though at St M's, I've never got the point of fixing blue filters over the lights in the chancel for Midnight Mass - which then have to be removed by weary souls atop exceeding high ladders, before we can safely go home to bed...but that's more incomprehension than actual loathing.

4) decoration
Anything that is up already. It's not even Advent yet...(OK - that was yesterday's whinge; let me come up with something more original). One year we had the misfortune to win a fibre optic village scene in a raffle - which the rather young Dufflepud adored. Let's just say that he was in a minority of one.

5) Gift received or given
There was the year when my MiL produced a wincyette nightie AND some scented writing paper (though she also produced assorted far more desirable gifts - she is one for whom the expression Generous to a Fault was probably invented...)

BONUS: SONG/CD that makes you want to tell the elves where to stick it.
Absolutely no contest.
"Come, they called me, par um pa pa pa pum" And then I put my foot Right through his drum.

And may all your grimble-tides be white!

Losing our grip on Advent?

Ask the Matriarch this week is all about how we can hang on to Advent in a world that wants us to keep Christmas - and of course, this is the hot topic for clergy in late November. On Sunday evening at St Mary's we will have our Advent Carol service - moving through from Palestrina's Matin Responsary to the great shout that concludes "Lo he comes"..."O Come quickly...Alleluia, Come Lord Come".
We will celebrate our journey from darkness to light, will hear the readings appointed for centuries, together with those great collects that send shivers down the spine as they call us to "cast away the works of darkness".
It will be wonderful, moving and appropriate - but I can almost guarantee that there will be at least one disconcerted family who slips away before the end, appalled to discover that, despite the candlelight, we won't be singing "Away in a Manger" at all...
Because no-one out there "gets" Advent. They may be aware of the name, because of the countdown element of their Advent Calendars - but these tend to major on a daily chocolate and a Disney theme, and even the explicitly Christian ones lead you straight into the Christmas story. Schools are breaking up early too, which means that the first school carol service (which will be well and truly Christmassy) takes place in St Mary's on 11th December - and my first Christmas dinner will be courtesy of the Mothers' Union on this coming Monday 2nd December. Advent, it seems, is a lost cause - and it's dotty to waste the opportunity that Christmas provides to welcome people into the church, to "tell them the stories of Jesus they love to hear"

At Greenbelt 06 FabBishop suggested that it might be wise to make the most of any common ground the church has with the Hallmark calendar of secular feasts - and it doesn't feel in any way helpful to go on saying, in a chill but holy way "Advent is a time of preparation, of pondering the Four Last Things" while outside everyone else is already waxing sentimental over The Little Drummer Boy. We're supposed to be ministering in the world...not tying ourselves in knots because the world doesn't grasp the niceties of the liturgical calendar. On the whole, I'm not prepared to lose a golden opportunity to celebrate God's love -it's lonely up on the moral high ground!
So - do we have to abandon all hope of taking time to breathe, to put our spiritual house in order as we prepare to savour the wonder that is to come? An article in last Friday's Church Times suggested a possible solution - that we move the "waiting/preparing" element of Advent back into November, into the "Kingdom season" which otherwise passes almost un-noticed. I think I might be up for that idea. You might be able to lure people to a study group at this relatively fallow point of the year (That's right -before the Christmas parties start!) - but Advent is, surely, a season for preaching to the converted. Meanwhile, with an eye to mission, one church in our deanery is holding a "crib festival" - an exhibition of some 100 cribs from various sources...another has a Christmas Tree festival....People will pour in to enjoy those, people who would be utterly lost and confused if confronted with the solemnity of Advent.
So let's be content to keep Advent for the "conoisseurs" - our core congregation - but to do everything we can, and more, to make sure that those outside are invited to hearing the message of the angels.

Time well spent? part 2

Just because many another is doing it, - and also so that I know for myself, this is more or less the answer to "What does a curate do all day?".

Monday – is WonderfulVicar’s day off, so though I begin the day at 9.00 with Morning Prayer up in church, I’m usually on my own with this. For a while one or two others joined me most weeks, and this led to some valuable conversations and the feeling that this was almost an unofficial “surgery hour” – but that seems to have lapsed a bit recently. Sad. The rest of Monday morning is study time. This somehow never means sermon prep, despite my best intentions – but rather emails and a serious attempt to make inroads into my looming piles of unread delight. I might take the dogs out briefly at lunchtime then the afternoon is geared to visiting, though if there’s a funeral on Monday, that will always be mine. 5.30 sees me back at church for Evening Prayer, followed by a said Eucharist (usually led by a retired colleague – but I cover for her from time to time) and the evening might well involve a baptism preparation session at home, or an out-of-parish meeting

Tuesday – Morning Prayer followed by a staff meeting till around 11.30…then home often to carry through some action that the meeting has suggested.
After lunch, I have about an hour to prepare material for the JAFFA Club at the Junior School, - where I’m busy till 4.30. There’s an hour clear now till Evening Prayer –one of those bits of time I find it hardest to use well. Maybe that’s where a dog walk could fit in…
5.30 Evening Prayer
7.30 (often) a meeting – usually till around 9.30…If not, this is a mother and Dufflepud night in, when we’ll try and watch some amiable rubbish together

Wednesday – DAY OFF. Enough said!

Thursday – Morning Prayer, emails etc then Little Fishes till 11.45 – followed by networking time in the parish office (or perhaps more accurately, preventing A. the Administrator from getting on with her work too) Home 12.30 ish – lunch, dogs etc Afternoon – visiting, Home Communions etc (though most of “my” round seem to have died, - and we’ve a strong team of laity who carry out this ministry, so it’s a very small part of my current routine) Evening Prayer 5.30 7.30 Often another meeting – timing as before, if it’s a sub committee –but rather later if it’s the full PCC!

Friday (Every other week) 7.30 Eucharist followed by Morning Prayer Friday is also a school assembly day – about once a month at the Infants’ School (Junior School Assemblies are on Tuesdays, and more like twice a term generally) Back to my desk, sermon prep is becoming rather pressing…so procrastination is essential…but unless there is a particular need, I’m unlikely to go out visiting on a Friday in a sermon week, though it’s a day when I might see a directee from time to time..

Saturday – muddly day. Not really free but I won’t wear a collar for most of the day. Could involve a wedding, or CME (continuing ministerial education) or even the odd baptism. Will certainly involve panicky sermonising – with the essential help of the 11th hour Preacher Party

Sunday- (every other week) begins in time for the 8.00 Eucharist, continues through the 10.00 and coffee afterwards, so that I’m usually home around 12.30 unless there’s a baptism. The afternoon features some down time unless it’s an OpenHouse Sunday, continues with Evensong at 6.30 and the day ends with Koinonia Youth Group till 9.30.


The trouble with writing things down is that, even as I do so, I’m aware of all sorts of “regular irregulars” – visiting my spiritual director, clergy chapter and meetings of diocesan groups, time in school just being available....
None of these will happen every week, but they do come round with reasonable frequency.
And then there’s the whole “living over the shop” problem of drawing lines between work and home life.
If I’m chatting to friends on msn last thing at night? – that’s my time.
If I’m chatting to someone from church (or even beyond), who wants to talk through tricky issues? – I guess that’s work.
If I’m reading a subject that I love, that engages and excites and restores me – but it happens to be work related?…umm…
Dog walking feels like time out – but the reality is that I so often get involved in long conversations with people from outside the congregation who have huge things to talk about, so it could equally be work. I suspect that even if I tried much harder than I do, I’d find it impossible to arrange my time in tidy categories.
Reflective blogging, for instance? Where on earth do I put that????? I know that some of the writing and thinking aloud that I did before last week probably got me the job, as it enabled me to work out exactly who I am in ministry, my priorities, my weaknesses, my gifts. Right now, though, I’m very clear that if I don’t stop blogging and get on with devising a service to celebrate the Senior Citizens’ welfare group’s 60th birthday, someone somewhere is going to get Very Cross Indeed.
Ah – that’ll be me, then!

Time well spent (part 1)

Everyone seems to be considering their schedules at the moment (here, here and here for starters), and I am very aware that I need to build in some strategies to ensure that my time is spent sensibly (no blogging at random moments, I guess) when I’m a real live Priest in Charge (Yes, I know it would be good to get that sorted as a curate – but with fewer non-negotiable responsibilities it has been a bit more fluid – sometimes alarmingly so).
At last week’s interview, I was honest about my struggles with schedules. It's not that I’m fundamentally disorganised. I used to run the office for a busy charity before ordination, and once upon a time I co-ordinated a huge network of volunteers via the NCT (something I’d almost forgotten till I was doing my skills-audit before the interview) – but I do need lots of pressure in order to accomplish things. It's certainly true to say that the more manic my life is, the happier I am (in an hysterical "Omg, I'll never get it all done" sort of way - but, friends, those shrieks are a necessary part of the process) and the more I'll achieve.Longer deadlines, though, are a disaster. The Little Fishes Songbook which I began planning 2 years ago will be done before I move on – but probably only because I am moving on. Hmmn. Really not great. The strategy I suggested at the interview was to build myself artificial deadlines along the way – and to deal with all the straightforward and undemanding stuff as it comes up. Sounds simple, but we’ll have to see. Meanwhile, I’d love any tips (particularly from other ENFPs) about sensible time management, and tomorrow I'll say a little more about the vexed question of how I actually use my time at the moment.

Most remiss

It was pointed out to me last night that I had failed sadly in my pastoral duties. After all, it's pretty rare in these parts for someone to give up their Sunday evening to catch up on an act of worship they've been unable to attend.
Generally, if someone in the congregation is missing, it's the fault of the clergy if we don't check that all is well pretty speedily (though of course there's the attendant risk that this might be construed as unwelcome intefering....). It's certainly the exception for a parishioner to appear in contrite person, asking for a blessing - and when they do, it is surely something to celebrate, not to ignore.

So, let me without further ado publish a photograph of the penitent in question.
She had a wonderful time at Youth Group, once we had persuaded her to emerge from beneath her chair...
but I'm still relieved that the other "no show" from St Francis-tide, Hissing Sid himself, has thus far remained at home.

"Going public at both ends"

is the slightly infelictious way in which the Bishop suggested that we announce this morning that the period of scanning small ads and wondering (and worrying) is over for the Curate's family.

I spent Wednesday being interviewed by parish reps from Cainscross and Selsley and at tea-time that day the phone rang
"We'd love you to come..."
I'm still trying to sort out my thoughts and my feelings.
I loved the people whom I met on Wednesday and the little glimpse of the two parishes (which have been a "united benefice" for a while now) - and I'm bowled over by the brand-new vicarage.
(It has, praise the Lord, a fireplace - so, for my family, I'm onto a winner come what may!)
The two communities, one urban, one rural, are very different - and both have so much to offer, so many strengths to build on, so much potential to tap. But I'm very aware that there are challenges, both obvious and unimagined, ahead. When I left the interviews on Wednesday I said to Longsuffering Clockmaker
"I have no idea whether I'm up to the task, but I'd really love to work with those people...so we'll just have to see if God wants me there"
Given the final outcome of the interviews, I have to believe that God does, and that He will give me the gifts I need in order to love and serve those people for his sake.As Hattie Gandhi pointed out, twenty-five years after leaving university - I've finally got a responsible job!

I want to leave here well - to tie up as many ends as are mine to tie and to ensure a smooth transition for the Dufflepud, who is in the run-up to GCSEs next summer, so I'm hanging on in Charlton Kings until after Easter. I know that may look like malingering to my new congregations, who have had a year of vacancy (though their NSM Associate Priest, who trained with me, is a real treasure, and they could not be in better hands) - but with such an early Easter I could not in all honesty be ready to leave here before Lent began - and it seemed wrong to arrive for Easter without walking through Lent with these people.
So I have four months to prepare, to read, to plan, to pray.
Please pray too for the parishes of Cainscross and Selsley, and for the whole Good in Parts family as well. I'm so looking forward to discovering where God wants us all to go together.

Another adult in the family.

The weather turned suddenly colder in the third week of November that year.
I went to bed really early, because I'd not been sleeping too well.
Late pregnancy is like that.
In the attic room upstairs, Longsuffering Clockmaker was busy making something the church needed in time for Advent.
I slept heavily but woke up suddenly and completely at around one a.m. and told him it was time to phone the babysitter.
Within half an hour we were on our way to the hospital.
"Well, you've quite a long way to go" the midwife said
"Your husband ought to go home and get some proper sleep. Nothing much will happen till the morning at least"
Two hours later the slow movement of the Mozart flute and harp concerto was drowned by the indignant cry of my first son...the boy that, after 3 miscarriages, I had been assured I would never carry to term.
He lay there beside me, calm and alert...seeming already to have a wisdom that I could only envy.

18 years on, he is still the wisest member of our family, and a calm presence when mother and sister boil over, as we often do.
Flute music remains his signature - his birthday present looks alot like this

(if you're a flutey person, it's a miyazawa PA102)

And I love him so very much that I'd embarass him to admit to it in public...but he's one of the best Huggers on the planet so I think I'll just go and collect one
without further ado.


Happy Birthday, Hugger Steward.

A point of information

Happy wanted to know the source of the Henri Nouwen extract on waiting...
It came to me as a Daily Reflection from the Nouwen Society but each reflection is originally from "Bread for the Journey; a daybook of Wisdom and Faith" which does just exactly what it says on the tin.
It works much better for me having each day's readings delivered to my in box, but the hard copy is a comforting presence on the bookshelf too.
Cannot recommend it too highly - a book of gold.