What I saw from Rodborough Common

I've always had bad eyesight...
One lazy eye, which is also very short sighted, meant an early childhood of patches, eyedrops and those horrible NHS glasses with pink plastic frames. With my teens came contact lenses and a whole new world of effortless vision - but by then I'd got used to the idea that I wasn't "a visual person", my creative outlets were verbal and musical and that was that. When I met Longsuffering Clockmaker, he rather prided himself on the fact that because his work involves frequent changes in focus, from the very intricate parts of clock work to the normal everyday seeing required in any office, his eye muscles were well exercised - which was, apparently, going to protect him from needing glasses for ever more!

Fast forward 20 years and yes, he does indeed need specs while I need to remove mine to see things that are close at hand. However, in the interim I've become the delighted owner of a digital camera and suddenly discovered that it's OK to take imperfect photos, to experiement, to delete...Someone once described this blog as "visual" and that brought me up short. Remember, I'm not a "visual person"!
But since then I've loved the process of simply gazing as I walk...of stopping with the camera...constantly shifting focus from the miniscule to the wider horizon.
I was specially aware of this yesterday, a near perfect May afternoon, as Mufti and I explored the common. In the distance I could see across the glinting silver of the Severn into Wales, or, in the other direction, I could look down on my own parish, close-packed into the valley, and reflect on the lives going on far below (Church in the valley is the tower towards the middle of this picture...it really is my patch)



I could exult in the multitude of cowslips that turned patches of common yellow-gold or concentrate my gaze on tiny speedwells, anenomes and wild orchids at my feet. There was so much to see, so much to delight in, near and far...the minutae and the big picture. Of course I couldn't and didn't see it all, but what I did notice gave me great joy. Perhaps I'm learning to see at last.

Friday Five - the inadequacy edition

Sally is consistently more spiritual than I, so it's no surprise that as Pentecost approaches she has given us a wholly appropriate task to engage with. It's just a slight shame that it brings out the worst of the inadequacies launched originally when I was the only girl in the high school Christian Union not to burst into speech in tongues during the great charismatic revival of 1975. Sally my friend, you weren't to know, and I don't want this to sound carping or defensive...so here are the best answers I can manage to this week's questions

FOR PENTECOST THIS WEEKEND:

FROM ACTS CHAPTER 2: 14 Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd: "Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say. 15 These men are not drunk, as you suppose. It's only nine in the morning! 16 No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel:17 " 'In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. 18 Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. 19 I will show wonders in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. 20 The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord. 21 And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.'

Anyway, it's Pentecost and my very first Friday Five! Thinking about all the gifts of the spirit and what Peter said of the "last days"......

Have you or anyone you know

1. ...ever experienced a prophesy (vision or dream) that came true?
The night before my third miscarriage I dreamed about a baby boy whom I knew was called Hugger Steward. In my dream, my daughter (then too young to talk) said to me with complete calm
"It's alright Mummy. Hugger Steward is going away for a while but he will come back to you in time"
When I woke the next morning it was to the early signs of a miscarriage...a year later, I gave birth to the son whom the doctors said I would't carry to term, the son who is my own beloved Hugger Steward.

2. ...dreamed of a stranger, then actually met them later?
If one's own unborn child is a stranger, then yes (see above)...

3. ...seen a wonder in heaven? (including UFO's)
In the early 1990s during Holy Week there was a particularly wonderful comet to be seen, Hale Bopp iirc....I will never forget how, having guessed and pretended that of course I'd seen the comet, I really did see and recognise it for the first time, as I walked back across the fields from Little Rissington Church, after Tenebrae on the Wednesday of Holy Week. Somehow the dramatic beauty of the comet and the cosmic events of the first Holy Week fused together in my mind to make an unforgettable whole.

4. ...seen a "sign" on the earth?
Today I walked on Rodborough Common, where the grass was golden with clumps of cowslips, the hedgerows white with hawthorn, and the air filled with birdsong. Will that count?

5. ...experienced knowledge of another language without ever having studied it?
No. When i was The Only One not experiencing the charismatic revival (see above) I was deeply grateful to both God and my fellow students at High School by the Sea for sparing me the "I can speak in tongues and you can't" routine.At that stage, it might well have killed my Christian faith forever.

Bonus Question: What would a modern day news coverage of the first Pentecost have sounded like?
Sun "Great Balls of Fire"
Grauniad "Ethnic co-operation on language project"
and most stages in between too.

(Partial and orange) view of the bookshelves

for those who might be interested!

At the moment I'm allowed about another 12 books before my shelving is exhausted in the study - BUT we've managed to clear 2 smaller bookshelves which are currently sitting in the hall looking vacant - so it's clearly high time I spent my lovely "new job" booktokens. Wheee!

Just so you know, my shopping list looks like this right now
Blue like Jazz - Donald Miller
Travelling Mercies - Anne Lamott
Plan B - Anne Lamott
Messy Church - Lucy Moore
Creative Communion - Margaret Withers & (the ever wonderful) Tim Sledge

For no good reason, Amazon are being bolshy about the combination of gift certificates and credit card - but we will overcome and it will be delightful and exciting to get the parcel, whenever it arrives - even if it does mean I need to begin the overspill process.

Signs of spring

are everywhere today, - both literally and metaphorically.

I've just given lunch to some wonderful ladies who have been major pastoral carers for Church in the Valley throughout the vacancy, and who, praise be, have no intention of stopping now. We enjoyed a lovely safe conversation, in which it became wonderfully clear that we were all truly speaking the same language, that we could dream dreams and share visions together, and discover that God is giving us some matching hopes for our church and our community. So exciting!

Meanwhile, I have one parishioner very poorly in Gloucester Hospital - which means that 3 times already this week I have had to drive through countryside that looks something like this. Don't you feel for me?!


On the way home yesterday I simply had to stop in Randwick Woods...The bluebells have just peaked and are beginning to decline - but the colour and the scent (distressingly unbloggable) remain quite breathtaking.


I feel rather like the psalmist whose lot has fallen in a fair ground and I am truly and deeply grateful.

The last boxes

are either unpacked, or safely hidden away until the next move, and yesterday we invited the parishes to tea...
We're the first people to live in the new vicarage, and the demolition of its predecessor caused considerable sadness particularly in the parish in the valley, so it matters that everyone really knows and believes that they are welcome here, whenever they need or want to come. Yesterday they came in droves, all afternoon and I was unutterably thankful for the wonderful ladies who had correctly predicted that we maybe couldn't manage without help, and kept all comers supplied with tea.
The Dufflepud did sterling work on guided tours and it was, it has to be said, rather lovely to have the house tidy enough not to dread certain doors being opened. Below lies the proof...it won't ever look this good again (and please note that my desk remains its usual bombed out self, even amid the prevailing order!)

The afternoon was actually great fun, albeit exhausting - which led to a stupid ending to the day.Too shattered to drive, I came home from returning the church crockery to the hall via a close encounter with the vicarage gate-post. Dents and scratches are the consequence.Drat!


Two views of the sitting room (neither of which really shows you how good the curtains look - but believe me, they are worth every penny)










Here's the kitchen...
Ironic that when we actually lived in a farmhouse, we had nothing like this kind of large warm living space - but now, in a brand new vicarage, we have a rather wonderful "farmhouse kitchen" where animals, books and ironing piles co-exist happily with assorted Flemings - and I can shut the door and protect the parish from the reality of our mess and muddle. Thanks be to God!

A Good morning

My first "Family Service" at Church in the Valley this morning...
I know, I know - every time we gather as the people of God it should be a family service...And there's clearly something wrong if it's not "all age" every week...But I've inherited this, and there is something to be said for earmarking one particular Sunday on which the children from our church school are specially encouraged to join us for worship - and also, a Sunday on which children are invited back to celebrate the anniversary of their baptism.
Whether that makes it also the best Sunday to invite the congregation from the rather more formal Church on the Hill for a Benefice service is another question that remains to be discussed....but for the moment, that's the way things are.
So...instead of the organ (and our highly professional organist, who produces miracles from the congregation on a weekly basis) we have a rather gifted pianist whose preferences are rather more along the Mission Praise and music group lines. We have a shortened liturgy. We have a parish breakfast of tea and toast (between the 8.00 and the 10.00) and, when it's not a Bank holiday weekend, we even have some extra children in our midst.
When it came to the sermon slot, I invited them to join me sitting on the edge of the dais and told the story from there, which felt fine and was mostly well- received I think - but my favourite moment came just before the Peace, when the baptism anniversary children are invited to bring up their baptism candles for a round of applause and a prayer. There was just one baptism child there - celebrating his third anniversary. Together we lit his candle from the Paschal Candle, I prayed for him and then told him to keep on shining for God and to take his candle carefully back to his parents.
I don't think I have ever been taken so seriously.
With immense dignity, one slow, slow step at a time, he made his way down the aisle, savouring every moment of glory. The congregation were entranced and so was I. I rather think God enjoyed it too...and goodness, that child did shine!

And he's off

Being substantially taller than his sister, Hugger Steward is not dwarfed by his backpack in the same way at all - but he has packed it with even more care, and has done all he can to prepare for most eventualities. I just wish his mother were more prepared for the central purpose of parenthood, which is, I'm sure, to work yourself out of a job.
Never mind. The Dufflepud has GCSEs ahead, so there should be quite enough to keep me occupied as a mum, assuming that my parishes leave me with time or emotional energy to spare - and July isn't really that long to wait for a hug.

Once upon a time

I would regularly aspire to a wholly original sermon! Today, the teeth of reality bite hard and I'm grateful for any help I can get, from the bookshelf, online, friends and acquaintances...I have yet to ask the postman (but that's only because he doesn't arrive here till so late in the day that I tend to have abandoned all hope long since) but otherwise all and any contributions are gratefully received.

So, the offering I will deliver at the Family Service tomorrow originated in a book by Edward Hays : "The Ladder" and has been reshaped by a colleague on the PRCL list and then tinkered with a little more in conversation this morning with a friend.Thus it is in no sense original but I hope that it might still be some help as we try to think about what it means to have Jesus with us, but not visible and to live in the Kingdom of heaven, which is both now and not yet.

I HATE saying Goodbye – and this weekend I’m specially aware of this as Giles sets off on his Gap year adventure to Tanzania.
Of course, I really want him to go and to have a wonderful time, but I can’t pretend that this has made the process of letting him go any easier.
So, the accounts of Jesus saying Goodbye to his disciples that we’ve heard over the past couple of weeks have seemed particularly close to home. I’ve been reminded again and again that "Goodbye" is the quick way of saying "God be with you" – and that wherever we are, and whatever may happen – that is always and wonderfully true.

But we’ve just celebrated Ascension Day – when we recognise that Jesus isn’t visibly present as the man from Galilee in our everyday world… On Thursday the children from St Matthew’s School helped me to think about the ways in which Jesus is still very much here, though we can’t actually see him – but I want to share a story with you that looks at the Ascension in a rather different way.
Before I begin, I must remind you that whenever we talk about God, we find that our words aren’t really good enough. God is beyond our language just as God is beyond our understanding – so the ways in which we speak are mostly metaphor…using something we do understand to help us describe something that is too big to be limited by our brains or our language.
For example, we often describe Jesus as the Light of the world – but I’m sure that none of you think in terms of a light bulb or even a candle when you pray. We think about God as a rock, but that has more to do with the fact that we know we can rely on God’s loving presence, come what may , than any supposed mineral qualities.
So, when you hear this story, which talks about heaven as somewhere up in the clouds, I don’t want you take that too literally. It’s just a way of talking about something that’s way beyond speech.
But the real meaning of the story…that’s true enough, for sure.

So, if you’re sitting comfortably I want to share a story with you that has been told since the days of the early church - by the desert fathers and mothers, sitting around their camp fires -by St Gregory of Nyssa and St Basil the Great - and by many others we won’t get to know this side of Paradise. I heard the story from someone who’d read it in the works of Abba Sayah …He admits that it’s a story with only the shakiest of provenance - but there is no doubt whatsoever that it’s true.

As the gospels tell us, after forty days of resurrection appearances, Jesus knew it was time to leave his disciples – his mother, his brothers and sisters, all his companions in the Way. It was hard to say goodbye, but he knew that the time had come. After all, he was the Truth and we humans can only take so much of that.

So Jesus called them all together on the mountain top, and made his farewells. It was a tearful moment. Mary was crying. John was crying. Jesus was crying. Even Peter, the immovable rock, was reaching for his handkerchief.

They knew that Jesus had said he would always be with them. But they also knew it wasn't going to be the same. There would be no more breakfasts by the seashore, no more late night discussions around the campfire, no more unexpected jugs of wine…and so they wept.

Jesus was sad too, but he was glad to be returning to his Father, and he knew it was all part of the plan. And so he began to ascend.

As Abba Sayah told the story, as Jesus began to rise, slowly and gracefully into the air, John just couldn't bear it. He grabbed hold of Jesus' right leg, and refused to let go.
"John?" said Jesus “What are you doing?”
And John shouted back,
"If you won't stay with us, then I'm coming too."

Jesus calmly continued to rise, hoping that John would let go. But he didn’t. And then, to make matters worse, Mary suddenly jumped up and grabbed hold of Jesus' other leg.
"I'm coming too," she shouted.
By now, Jesus’ big exit had obviously been ruined, but he looked up into heaven, and called out:
"Okay, Father... what do I do now?" And a voice came out of the clouds, deep and loud like the rumbling of thunder in the distance.
"Ascend!" the voice said.
"Ascend?" Jesus asked
"Ascend!" the voice replied.

So Jesus continued to rise through the air, with John and Mary holding on until they too were lifted off the ground.
But the other disciples couldn’t bear to be left behind either, so they too jumped on board…and within moments there was this pyramid of people hanging in the middle of the sky. Jesus at the top. John and Mary next. The apostles hanging on below. Quite a sight, if anyone had been watching...

And then - what was this? Suddenly all kinds of people were appearing out of nowhere…friends and neighbours from around Galilee, people who’d heard Jesus’ stories, people whom he had healed, people who just knew that he was something special…
Young and old,- men, women, children, Jews and Gentiles…a huge crowd – and they too refused to be left behind…So, they made a grab for the last pair of ankles and hung on for dear life. One way and another there was quite a kerfuffle -people squealing “Wait for me” -then startled yelps as they felt themselves seized by the ankle -and above it all the voice of God calling out, “Ascend!"

But all of a sudden, from the bottom of the pyramid, there came the piping voice of a small child.
"Wait!” he shrilled, “I've lost my dog! Wait for me”
"I can't wait," Jesus called back, "I don't know how this thing works."
But the little boy wasn't going to be left behind, and he was determined his dog was coming with him. So, still holding on with one hand, he grabbed hold of a tree with the other, and held on with all his might.

For a moment, the whole pyramid stopped dead in the air - Jesus pulling upwards, and the little boy holding on to the tree, scanning the horizon for his lost dog. But Jesus couldn't stop. The ascension had begun, and God was pulling him back up to heaven.

At first it looked as if the tree would uproot itself. But then the tree held on, and it started to pull the ground up with it. Sort of like when you pull a rug up in the middle, the soil itself started moving up into the sky. And hundreds of miles away, where the soil met the oceans, the oceans held on. And where the oceans met the shores, the shores held on. All of it held on, like there was no tomorrow.

To cut a short story long: Jesus DID ascend to heaven, He went back to his natural habitat, living permanently in the presence of God’s endless love and care and wholeness and laughter.

But, as Abba Sayah tells it, he pulled all of creation – the whole kit and caboodle – everything that ever was or is or ever will be – he pulled it all up into heaven with him.

On Thursday we talked about the Ascension as “Christmas backwards”.
At Christmas, we concentrate on Jesus coming to earth to transform us with the presence of God. At Ascension, we focus instead on Jesus taking earth back with him into heaven…
Whichever way you look at it, the work of Jesus was to transform us and the world we live in by infusing everything with the presence of God.
Heaven meets earth; earth is drawn into heaven.

And, as Abba Saya said. that's where we've been ever since.
So – let’s make sure we live that way, so that everyone we meet can tell that we are children of God and citizens of heaven.

A tricky Friday Five

It's a strange thing that if you want to shut up a loquacious clergy person, the surest way is to ask them about their prayer life!
However, Sally bravely decided to risk this and has posted a thoughtful Friday Five so I'm combatting my own slightly anxious, slightly shamed reluctance and trying to think about what should be the central activity of my life...prayer.
Here goes! Sally writes

"Part of the Ascension Day Scripture from Acts 11 contains this promise from Jesus;

"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Then he was taken from their sight into the clouds, two angels appeared and instructed the probably bewildered disciples to go back to Jerusalem, where they began to wait and to pray for the gift Jesus had promised.

Prayer is a joy to some of us, and a chore to others, waiting likewise can be filled with anticipation or anxiety....

So how do you wait and pray?

1. How do you pray best, alone or with others?
Best, eh? That's kind of optimistic! I feel least inept when praying with another - even the Office (or maybe specially the Office) becomes a life giving exercise when prayed in company. Thus far I have someone to pray with me on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, but oh I do miss WonderfulVicar and the pattern of Morning and Evening Prayer at St M's...I love praying for people while we are together too - on my own I am far too easily distracted (oh look, a bird!) and will find myself coming to having started out to pray but going for an extended wander in all directions till God nudges me and our conversation resumes along the intended lines.

2. Do you enjoy the discipline of waiting, is it a time of anticipation or anxiety?
I'm definitely getting less fraught about waiting - though I still can't say with all my heart the Iona refrain "Thank you for the waiting time". The months last year when I knew my curacy was ending but had no sense of what might come next were a really positive exercise in living with God in the present moment - and I think I'm beginning to get it! Maybe....

3. Is there a time when you have waited upon God for a specific promise?
Oh yes...After miscarriage number 3 (part of an extended series which spanned far too many years of my early married life) on the following Sunday I was singing Wesley's anthem "Ascribe unto the Lord" - which includes the words "you are the blessed of the Lord, you and your children". Sounds loopy , but to me those words came as a promise loud and clear, direct from God - and it sustained me through the wait till Hugger Steward appeared. Again, after the Bishops' Selectors had told me that I had no vocation to priesthood, I came home and as I prayed the Office the words of the Benedictus were transformed into a promise that I would in time be ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament
"to give God's people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins".

4. Do you prefer stillness or action?
I struggle with stillness, but when I achieve it it is very precious...But I love the sort of alt worship stations that involve you in a symbolic action which somehow acts as a launch pad for deeper prayer

5. If ( and this is slightly tongue in cheek) you were promised one gift spiritual or otherwise what would you choose to receive?
To answer tongue in cheek, the gift of administration would be wonderous...to answer more honestly, as I struggle to trust Hugger Steward to God's care on his journey to Africa, I guess that trust is in pathetically short supply in these parts.
Now, of course, I'm feeling dangerously vulnerable - but that's part of the deal, isn't it? At least I do hope so...

I still don't have this "letting go" thing sorted...

Long term readers may remember the freak floods that struck Heathrow 2 years ago, when Hattie Gandhi was heading off on her gap year travels to Thailand.
May I just recommend that you suspend any travel plans for tomorrow, as now it's Hugger Steward's turn...only this time rather than going to work in a school, with an address and an internet connection, he is heading off into the wilds of Tanzania to work with Village Africa.
He will be helping to build a school (or maybe a health centre) in one of two remote villages, where there is no electricity, no cell phone reception and definitely no internet - so basically, when he leaves here tomorrow that's it in terms of regular communication until he gets home. Volunteers are bussed into the nearest town every couple of weeks, so I should hear something along the way, and having belatedly visited the Village Africa website I'm hugely excited that he will be involved in work that will make such a difference.
The pictures are enticing, and he's full of common sense, though he's short on experience of the big wide world (well, who isn't at 18?) so I don't think I'm actually that fearful for his safety (though if you thought about praying, that would certainly be welcome...) - but oh my goodness, I will miss him!
He finished his temporary job in Cheltenham at the beginning of April, to help us with the move here, and has since then been at home, unpacking boxes, preparing for his trip and listening to his mother's tales of joy and woe as I've hurtled into the vicarage en route from one encounter to the next. He has been the person with whom I've done such processing as there has been time for (he usually is) and, of course, the source of many and many a trade-mark hug. Just imagining life without those hugs available on a daily basis makes me feel distinctly tearful...and of course, this is simply the first stage in the serial letting-go - a road that leads through Africa, to Cambridge and then...who knows?

Ascension day again

and a strange kaleidoscope of images drifted through my mind as I fell asleep last night.
The day began with a service in church for the children from our church school - a first for me here, and one I thoroughly enjoyed. Splendid Head has been off sick for 6 months, but returned to work at the start of this term 2 weeks ago, and he tells me that the mood of the children in collective worship has been slightly less openly responsive than it had been - but we both expect it to warm up rapidly. I used an idea from the excellent Barnabas site, which presents Ascension as being "Christmas backwards" and had lots of fun with children holding and re-arranging the letters as we talked about what the two festivals meant. Then I revisited the "hidden candle" idea from last year's Little Fishes, hiding the Paschal candle in the pulpit, discussing whether we knew it was there although none of us could see it, and then lighting a taper from it to prove that it still existed...It didn't help the next stage of the proceedings that the cross-draughts in church are such that the taper didn't survive my return to the head of the nave (Church in the valley uses strange oil filled pretend candles on the high altar for this very reason, but I'd forgotten this salient point because I didn't want it to be true...Does anyone else do that?!).Still we pretended, as I borrowed a light from one of the altar candles, that it was the real thing with which we then lit a candle for each class to take away to use in class worship as a reminder that they are now called to show Christ's light in themselves.
By the time I invited them to share the Peace with one another, the church was full of smiley and indeed shiney faces and when, predictably, we ended with "You shall go out with joy" I felt very much at home.

Later I was with the father and son I mentioned here. The mum's funeral was on Tuesday, a full chapel at the crematorium which reassured me that these two men, each mourning profoundly, are not as alone in their grief as they'd at first appeared. Today we buried J's ashes, and again there were good friends there, supporting them with the practicalities, present in comforting kindness which made my role so much easier too. Nonetheless, there's no getting round the fact that life for a man in his 80s with a disabled son is not going to be any kind of fun, so R & S are going to remain in my prayers for a long time yet.

In the evening came a Deanery Service here
I already know my new Area Dean, a real sweetie, from the "Fresh Expressions" group - and there seems to be a genuine friendship and humour about the place among my colleagues too, which augers well for the years ahead. There was lots of laughter as we robed, particularly as memories were shared about another priest, whose identity I never quite gathered. He, apparently, was the author of an amazing procession, which took up so little of the allotted hymn that, when his colleagues had made their way safely to their seats, he led the whole thing out again for another couple of circuits of the church. In revenge, when later he attempted to make a dignified exit for a comfort break, once again his colleagues followed in procession...
It may have been on the same Ascension Day, at another deanery service, that he ended his sermon (in the popular consciousness at least) with this profundity
"And remember. The last thing they saw of Jesus was his feet!"

I hope your day, too, began and ended with laughter!

Someone to celebrate

Today the church remembers Catherine of Siena, for whom I've had a rather soft spot ever since Sister St Edmund gave me a prayer card depicting her as a reward for finally finishing the term's sewing project in Junior 2.
Given the quality of my needlework, then as now, it is fitting that the only words of Catherine's that I remember were given to me by a very wise priest early in my curacy
"You are not called to perfection but to infinite desire".
Infinite desire....That sounds like me,- a dreamer of huge dreams who is so reluctant to see anything as settled, complete, perfect....
That one sentence reflects both an abiding sense of aspiration, of stretching out towards something that is just beyond reach, and the reminder of reality.
I will not achieve perfection in anything - and that's actually quite alright.
Catherine simply encourages us to go on looking beyond the immediate horizon...daring to engage with ever greater visions...and to believe that God will bring them about.

Healing wounded history

was the theme of a remarkable diocesan day on Saturday. I went along with rather limited expectations. For reasons that I shan't go into I'm currently a member of the small "Diocesan Healing Group" but have found the few meetings I've been able to attend less than hugely engaging. Saturday was the swan song of the current leader of the group and just two weeks ago we had seriously considered cancelling it altogether, as somehow publicity did not seem to be working and bookings were distinctly slack. However, we'd had to cancel the day when it was planned a year ago, and it seemed just plain wrong to disappoint those who were hoping for another chance to hear the main speaker so we took a collective deep breath and decided to go ahead.
That was so obviously the right decision!

Saturday was warm and sunny, the best kind of spring morning - which was just as well, as the registration queue stretched from the church porch into the churchyard but people were in very good heart as I made my way along the line, sorting out name labels to speed up the process inside. From nowhere well over 100 people had appeared (our target to break even financially was, iirc, 75) and all were in good heart.
When the first session started I discovered why. Russ Parker is simply terrific.
His theme, healing communities by hearing their stories, was completely and utterly perfect for my current situation, as I try to learn the reality of my new parishes. Its message was a glorious escape route from the pessimism that insists "History repeats itself. Has to. Nobody listens." His suggestion that the churches should become the "new acoustic communities", where stories are heard, valued and offered for redemption, chimed with Isaiah 50
"He teaches me to listen, so that I might have the word that refreshes the weary."
It seems to me that there are so many weary people around these parts, each carrying a live legacy that confirms that "all history is a current event".
Of course, we were reminded, we cannot change the past - but if we hear well, we can ensure that our response (as individuals and as a church) is appropriate.
We were reminded, too, that in serving our communities we cannot stand outside their story...The past is part of the present reality, and these people, their story, their wounds and their joys are now mine, part of what I can bring to God. The joys are important too, because what is not celebrated shrinks and dies...

I attended his first workshop session too, and felt a wave of recognition when he described the experience of the priest in the parish as often that of an actor in a play someone else has written, a play whose lines and moves we can't quite grasp. Expectations are shaped by the past experience of the community, so we need to read its history in order to help to reclaim it and to seek its redemption.
Even those mostly closely bound by it may not be aware of the story they carry, but healing can come when the story is recognised and owned.
To illustrate, Russ told us the story of a mining town, founded by the forcible transplantation of the workforce from their home county, hundreds of miles away, by a Victorian industrialist who put people second to progress. His workers were offered a stark choice...move or be unemployed. No third way was presented.
In common with most of the captains of the industrial revolution, having established his pit and built housing for his workers, the owner of the mine then built a church - and brought in a priest to serve it...not a local man...not in any sense "one of their own."
The relationship between congregation and clergy continued to be distant and strained through the decades that followed, no matter who was called to serve in that place (barring one "home grown" priest, who was remembered with respect and affection for long after his death) until, while Russ was serving there, he heard and grasped the history of the place. Then, one Sunday morning he was inspired to apologise from the pulpit for the church's collusion in the founding of a community based on exploitation and greed. As the congregation realised that their past was being honoured, they experienced the sort of healing that can change everything - and indeed everything changed.

We were invited to re-read the greetings to the churches in the opening chapters of Revelation, to see there the recognition of the story of each community and to consider what the Spirit might say to the angels of our churches. My two parishes both date from the nineteenth century, but were founded in such different circumstances that it is no surprise that difference seems built into their DNA.
To consider the story of their beginnings has certainly helped me to make sense of what I am learning about their current realities as I begin to look for God's way forward.

Deeply indebted to

a handy site entitled "Sermon helps", which does just exactly what it says on the tin, here is my contribution to Rogation Sunday at Church on the Hill. The Longsuffering Clockmaker says I ought to get on with living this way. I say I'm a human becoming, not yet a human being, and the inconsistencies are part of the journey. Anyway, here's what I did with Phillippians 4...

Until we moved last month I had a Simon Drew cartoon blutack’d over my desk. It showed large and impressive monument, and beside it a terrier with a huge variety of “thinks bubbles” emanating from its head, saying things like
“Now where did I put the car keys”
“Will I be able to pay off my credit card”
“Did I leave the gas on?”
“Whatever can I do about global warming…”
Beneath was the caption
“The tomb of the unknown worrier”
I loved it because I’m one who too easily spends valuable time and energy fretting over that sort of thing (car keys, church keys….they all go missing far more regularly than I like)
I think, though, that I’ve got quite a long way to go before I join the ranks of those who, in a recent survey, lost on average 21 working days each year because of that contemporary ill, stress. Stress seems to be the endemic disease of our society…From captains of industry to beleagured teachers and their charges, almost everyone will admit to feeling stressed from time to time. It has almost become a badge of honour, a sign that you are taking your work as seriously as it deserves… Or at least that might be the case in most secular jobs – but clearly it shouldn’t be part of the picture for us as practising Christians. Actually, of course, anxiety is rarely helpful, since it is usually a vague but persuasive sense of generalised tension and distress
“the sky is falling, I must go and tell the King."
It’s worth distinguishing anxiety from legitimate fear that has a clearly defined cause…and probably also a clear and specific remedy. Anxiety is rather different, but certainly pretty prevalent...and it’s placed firmly beyond the pale for anyone serious about living their faith.
“Be careful for nothing” says Paul to the church in Phillippi…or, if you prefer it
“Don’t stress”
Such sensible advice, but so hard to follow…though to be fair, Paul doesn’t just forbid us to worry. Instead he presents us with a pretty comprehensive antidote to anxiety with his cry to rejoice in the Lord always, and by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving to let your requests be made known to God.
Here’s his prescription founded on an attitude that can overcome the anxious heart.
"Rejoice!" He says it twice…look to the things that give you joy – focus on things that are good, and remember that we have the all time best reason to be cheerful.
This isn’t the approach of a Pollyanna, denying legitimate grief or anxiety…Paul isn’t acting as a kind of spiritual cheer-leader, insisting on an upbeat response to any and every grief…
His hearers are a part of a church filled with doubt and fear in the midst of a crooked and depraved generation and an aggressively evil environment. Every day, they face dissension within and opposition without.
And yet Paul forcefully exclaims, “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice.”
Joyful Christians? Is this an oxymoron?
So many people out there would say that Christianity provides a crutch for the needy, but brings with it the sort of demands that tend to rob life of its pleasures.
Maybe, - but then, pleasures are not the same as joys.
While joy is the Christian virtue, happiness is the virtue of the world. Where happiness is external, circumstantial depending on the things we have or can acquire, - power, fame, a cosmetic make over, or maybe even a beautiful church - joy exists independent of the environment and will persist through any and all circumstances
To coin a phrase “Joy has a much longer shelf life than happiness.” The secret to joy is not to look at the circumstances of your own life. Rather, look to Christ , what he has done for you and in you and to you.
Don’t worry…Be careful for nothing.
This does not mean “Be careLESS of everything” but rather do not be worn down by anxiety…
"Present your requests to God" Let God know specifically what troubles you – what your needs are –No matter what is going on, in all things PRAY!
That, of course, is why this reading is appointed for Rogation Days…those days
when we ask God’s blessing on the crops we have sown, and on the growing season and the harvest that still lies far ahead. We ask, confident that we will see results.
Planting a seed is always and everywhere an act of faith.
How could something so small and fragile carry within it all that is needful to make any particular plant flourish and grow?
How can burying that tiny fragment in the ground lead to the growth of a whole new plant, just like its parent?
Clearly with the planting of each and every seed, we find ourselves in the realm of miracle…We trust that once again the processes that I for one barely understand will come into play so that from that tiny dried up kernel new life will emerge.
Sadly, the faith that inspires us to plant seeds, and to believe that we will be alive and well to see it when they reach fruition seems to be missing too often from our daily route though life.
We look at the situations around us and resort once again to worry…Truly it seems the only rational response.
But there is another way, of course…
We need to maintain our communication channels with God…to carry on praying even when it seems to be a completely fruitless activity.
Just as planting a seed involves us in a process of patient waiting, while nothing much happens, we have to believe that a similar process will bring about the answer to our prayer if we keep on talking
And the peace of God which "Transcends all understanding" something NOT BASED on human reason or logic,- the divine peace which is based on God's presence and protection not on shallow, unpredictable human promises, will fill your heart and mind!
A seed of prayer sown, leads to the miracle of a mind transformed.
Actually, Paul says it will “keep”, or "will stand watch over your heart and mind" In other words, the peace of God will come and occupy the place anxiety once held!
It may be a small seed in itself, but like those in the soil, it will come to a transformative fruition if we leave it to germinate, to flourish and to grow
We pray and God plants a seed within us, diverting our attention from those things which cause us pointless anxiety, which drain our energies and rob us of our sleep.
In their place we are invited to focus on
whatever is true,
whatever is noble,
whatever is right,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely,
whatever is admirable
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy…
--think-about such things!
So here is Paul’s prescription – his four part antidote to anxiety:
Attitude: Rejoice! all shall be well, for God is in charge!
Action: In everything – absolutely everything – give thanks and pray! Ask for what you need, and it will be given to you
Answer: Instead of anxiety, you will experience the peace of God!
Affirmation: Think about some new things!
So today, as we ask God’s blessing on farmers and their crops, seeds in the soil and plans for the future, we ask too that he will bless in us the seeds of faith…We pray that through his transforming power the small nugget of belief we bring to the table may flourish and grow, so that as the body of Christ in this place we may be full of that irrepressible joy of which Paul writes and may live lives grounded in the peace that is beyond our reason, beyond all understanding.

1111

That last post seems to have been my one thousand, one hundred and eleventh since this blog began in August 04...What alot of words! I do go on, don't I?
Thank you, those who read them and comment. I suspect things may be thinner here in future, but can't see myself stopping altogether any time soon.
Not while there are sermons to leave unwritten ;-)

Ancient or modern? Time for a Friday Five

just to prove that I am still a real blogger, I'm here with the RevGals Friday Five,this time an offering from Singing Owl

Yesterday I had two separate conversations in which people were musing about how much change is occurring. The WW II generation, of which my mom is a part, went from horse and buggy to automobiles, saw the lessening, or even the end of many diseases, went from widespread use of kerosene lamps and outhouses (in the country, and most folks were rural)) to a totally electrified and plumbed society. The fastest means of communication was a telegraph. The second conversation--gulp--was about MY generation and how much change occurred in the last half of the 20th century. The person said his 13 year old had not seen a vinyl record album until a few days before, couldn't remember a time without cell phones, and on and on.

As for the questions!

1. What modern convenience/invention could you absolutely, positively not live
without?
I become positively tearful and definitely not easy to deal with if the internet is down for more than a few moments at a time. With the imminent departure of Hugger Steward, our geek in residence to Africa, I'm suffering from anxiety attacks about this. Who knows WHAT might happen while he's away?


2. What modern convenience/invention do you wish had never seen the light of day?
Why?
The tv remote control. It seems to be the central cause of so many evenings of bickering, and I hate the idea that we are all so idle that we can't even drag ourselves to our feet to change channel when we've had enough. Yuk.

3. Do you own a music-playing device older than a CD player? More than one? If
so, do you use it (them)?
I do have a cassette option...but I have to admit I rarely use it. However, Hattie Gandhi was very firm in her desire for a system that would allow her to play vinyls (and has been collecting vinyls specially)so as a family we have something that covers most eventualities barring the wax disc.

4. Do you find the rapid change in our world exciting, scary, a mix...or something
else?
I love it. I was so resolutely "young fogey" in my 20s and 30s that it's just joy to engage with the new world that is all about me now. Do you know, I've made some of my very best friends through that new-fangled thing, the internet? ;-)


5. What did our forebears have that we have lost and you'd like to regain? Bonus
points if you have a suggestion of how to begin that process. When I was in India, a popular saying was "In the west you have clocks...Here we have time"
As one who spends her days trying to fit quarts of activity into pints of time, this spoke loud and clear to me...I ought to be able to be helpfully diverted en route to some task or meeting...the diversions are almost always creative and life enhancing...but the timetable makes them also potentially inconsiderate and rude. Don't think I have an answer...maybe if I sleep on it.

Sobering statistics and words of comfort

On Tuesday this week FabBishop had summoned all his clergy to a training day at Cheltenham Racecourse.
Leaving aside the fact that it always feels just plain wrong to be there when there's not so much as a whiff of Greenbelt about the place, it was an excellent day, when I loved catching up with friends and getting to know some new priests in the diocese too.
Our speaker was the Warden of Cranmer Hall, who spoke engagingly about the changing shape of ministry and its impact on the clergy she trains and supports.
There's lots I should share, if only to ensure that I don't lose track of it all in this relentless busyness...but this is Friday, and already things are blurring alarmingly.

She spoke of the sense that so many clergy feel that they are under judgement (their own, their congregation's and God's)....ruled by a concept of fantasy ministry in which we can be all things to all people, meet every need, visit 24 hours a day, hold our own in secular partnerships in the community...
Of our struggle to hold together demands and desires...our appreciation that this is a costly task, and our sense that we ought somehow to be able to do it all

She spoke too of the necessary death of such imagined ministry, to enable us to become real with ourselves and with God...of the harsh reality of knowing ourselves called to plant seeds while we live in a harvest-driven culture...and of the reality of our calling to minister in a twilight world
(The resurrection happened while it was yet dark...)

There was much that I recognised, much that I was glad to hear acknowledged - but I was so very sad to hear that according to an apparently reputable survey, the clergy pray for an average of 25 minutes per week, outside formal worship.
25 minutes.

And the reason that this is the average is that for many, there is no time spent in personal prayer at all.

I simply don't see how you can possibly survive in this task without at least believing, even if you don't always feel it, that prayer is going to make a difference...and thus that it's worth engaging with. My heart goes out to those who feel themselves completely alone, sans colleagues and sans God, in this bleak and hostile landscape.

One of Anne Dyer's main points was that, as priests we need one another ("Brother, sister, let me serve you, Let me be as Christ to you, Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too") I was hugely and delightfully aware as she spoke that I was sitting close to two people who, perhaps more than anyone else, enable my own ministry.
I don't feel alone, ever - and I know that I only have to wave and lifeboats would arrive before I'd ever got close to drowning.

During question time, someone passed on some wisdom from a training incumbent some decades ago
"Say your prayers and do your best"
That I could warm to...that, indeed, is pretty much what I try to do.
But not on my own. Never ever on my own.

It's Friday

and, though I've had a slight incursion into my day off in the form of a service for Scouts, Cubs, Brownies and Beavers (in honour of St George's Day) I therefore have a bit of time to call my own...and in which to blog as well.
I wish there were space to do some real processing -whether online, in a journal or even on the phone to a friend - but currently it's all about living it...getting things done in reasonable order...making connections in all directions and loving for all I'm worth.

So, the blog continues to be a poor starved thing and I so regret the reduced contact with my online friends - but can't for the life of me see viable ways to maintain it at the moment, beyond this very sporadic existence.
One Pedestrian wanted to know about my roof appeal and whether or not we had one of those alarming thermometer wotsits outside the church to track our progress towards being watertight. I'm happy to report that Church on the Hill is made of sterner stuff. The church itself is a pre-Raphelite dream, with windows by William Morris, Burne Jones, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and co, while the appeals committee is pretty much a new vicar's dream too, being full of ideas, enthusiasm and effective purpose. The sum to find is huge, but so is the committment of those involved, so that the appeal actually looks (at the moment at least) not so much like an albatross but more like a good way of getting to know a wide range of people in the village, including those who would never darken the door of the church for worship.
Of course, this raises its own questions about how to help them to move from devotion to the building to a relationship with the God whose love is its foundation - and if I crack that one, I promise you'll hear about it!

Meanwhile, down at Church in the Valley, life continues in a rather more earthed and earthy mode...I've met some wonderful people and been privileged to hear some deep stories of holy ground. I've also been welcomed into the church school, spent a happy morning painting pirate ships with the Playgroup, and talked to a goodly collection of wedding and baptism families. One rather lovely thing is that a mum who came to discuss her daughter's baptism turns out to be the sister of a groom from one of my St M's weddings...and the couple I married will be godparents when their little neice is baptised. I love that sort of connection - I was smiling for the rest of the day after that.



Of course it's not all beer and skittles - (or even red wine and doritos, which I must say I would prefer). Valley parish has quite a high mortality rate, as this is not a wealthy community at all, - so I'm not in danger of forgetting how to take a funeral at all at all.
Funeral visits are always sad, sometimes surprising and often inspiring.
How else could I describe the loving determination of parents who for nearly six decades have made their disabled son the centre of their universe? Now the mother is gone, leaving father and son to manage alone...How much S grasps I really don't know, but his father's grief is raw and heartbreaking and being there in the pain with them feels nothing like enough - but it's all I can humanly do.
Prayers for them both hugely welcome.

On a brighter note, my favourite story to date concerns a hospital visit to a wonderful lady in her 90s. I introduced myself as "Kathryn, the new priest at St Matthew's" and we enjoyed an excellent conversation about cats and other important things...When it was time to go my offer to pray was received with enthusiasm but at the end, instead of loosing my hand she grasped my wrist in a vice-like grip and asked with desperate urgency
"So tell me...what's the new vicar like?!"
"You'll have to tell me" I replied...and after a blank moment or two she broke into smiles
"It's you, isn't it..."

Well, I guess it pretty much is - hard though it can be to believe sometimes.
It is me, and I'm happy to be so.

Really not sure

given all the riches that are available this week, what on earth persuaded me to run with this angle...but here we have a rather rough and definitely risky sermon which I clearly can't post on the St M's sermon blog...and I think it will be a while before I feel brave enough to suggest a sermon blog here. So, for better or worse, and because I hope that it might be good in some parts at least, here's tomorrow's offering

Easter 5 Year A John 14
Good news! Today’s readings are rich enough to inspire at least 3 sermons
Better news – I’m only going to preach one of them!
In all seriousness, it’s rare to be presented with such wonderful riches to choose from…We could think about the promise of a home in heaven, and our route to get there….we could consider our position as living stones, the fabric from which God builds his church –
OR
We could think about prayer.

Having summed up like that, it seemed to me that there was, after all, only one sermon that I needed to offer you today – the one with prayer at its heart.
“Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it”
Whatever you ask
Of course, this doesn’t mean that we can expect the slot machine experience – prayer in equals result out. You don’t need me to tell you that simply adding “in Jesus’s name, Amen” to a string of requests
does not automatically guarantee success, even when the things we ask seem to be wholly good…the sort of thing that surely no loving God could ever deny us.

That’s always a challenge to faith…for even as I speak I’m sure that many of you are remembering with sadness the times when you prayed urgently, with all that was in you, for something that just didn’t happen…
The cancer didn’t go into remission…A troubled marriage did not suddenly come right after all…
Warring nations did not experience a sudden unexpected outbreak of peace
“Whatever you ask in my name…”??
We do struggle with this, don’t we?
Sometimes hindsight makes sense of a prayer that’s been left apparently unanswered…for sometimes the answer is “Wait”. Sometimes, we have to acknowledge that the “No” that was so unwelcome actually led to the best outcome in the end.
Sometimes I think that we’re left in a situation where all we can do is to be honest with God about our disappointment, our rage…
“You are supposed to be almighty yet these awful things happen, despite all our prayers and entreaties.
What are you doing – and don’t you know that this hurts!”
Thankfully prayer is nothing to do with being polite to God, and everything to do with coming as we are, with our wounds, our angers, our deepest most painful needs.
We set out with our best intentions…we try to believe that God will answer our prayer…and then it seems as if nothing has changed.
Yet we have this promise…Whatever you ask in my name…Does that mean nothing?
When we pray in Jesus’s name, we’re actually doing something rather different. Do you remember the protests before the troops were sent to Iraq? Hoards of people marched in many cities across the country, chanting “Not in my name…” because they did not wish to be associated with a government action in which they had no confidence. Whatever the rights and wrongs, they needed to make it clear that what was happening was not an expression of their world-view, their way of being.
We see this happening in many parts of the world, where someone’s name is taken to reveal their inner character.
We talk about preserving someone’s good name when actually we are intent on ensuring that people realise they are people of worth and integrity. Names are powerful things… So…when we are praying “in Jesus name” we should be doing a bit more than using it as a sort of formulaic ending, a quality stamp for our own wishes. Perhaps it’s a bit more like adding it as a signature to our words that precede it. We’re asking Jesus to validate our prayer – and if we are to do that with any integrity, that means we must ensure that our prayers are those we know he can be part of.
In other words, when we pray in Jesus’ name, we must set out to align our own wills with his, so that the prayers that we pray have the hallmark of his presence running right through them, like the lettering on a stick of rock.
Clearly this is something that Stephen had achieved for his final prayers are exactly parallel to those that Jesus prayed himself on the cross – a prayer committing himself to God’s love and one asking forgiveness for his persecutors. We, though, don’t have to pray only those prayers that we know for sure that Jesus himself prayed, though we are blessed that in the Lord’s Prayer we have a model that covers all that we could need for the world’s good
“Thy kingdom come…Thy will be done”
Thy will…In Jesus’ name…
That’s the secret. It’s not about what we want, about what we think would be the best way to arrange things…We aren’t setting out to change God’s mind, but rather, by spending time with him, to change our own minds, our own outlooks.
Once we have got to know Jesus well enough we are enabled to pray in ways that express the essence of his life and love, and so we can trust that God will honour that direction, always.
We get to know Jesus by spending time with him in prayer…and we pray about situations and issues that concern us, trying to discern what is God’s will so that we can place that at the heart of our own prayers…
Jesus gave us the authority and permission to use his name, but unless we take the time to
prayerfully discern his will, the use of his name won’t be of any help to us…
We cannot authenticate our prayer with his name unless it is already authentic in itself.
Sometimes, as you know, to pray about a situation is to find ourselves clear that there is something we should be doing to bring about the longed for outcome. It’s by no means rare, though it can be uncomfortable, to find yourself as the answer to your own prayers. At other times, prayer may bring us to a point where our original desire is transformed…
In any situation, our task is to determine, in the words of those popular wristbands, What Would Jesus Do….We can pray towards that end, but we may well need to engage with it too. We need to be doing the works that Jesus would do, praying His kinds of prayers, having the same type of intimate relationship with the
Father that He did. If we can't identify His works (which are also the Father's) then how can we ever hope to do greater works?
But amid our faltering prayers, and our failures of confidence we have a promise…Jesus said He Himself would perform whatever we ask in His name in order to glorify Father God
So, there’s another question…Not just “What would Jesus do?” but also
“Do my prayers, my inner longings, glorify God?”
If the answer to that is "Yes", then I can surely pray in Jesus’ name, confident that God will honour my prayer.
Prayer works. It changes people and situations…When we pray, we become more Christ-like…we enter into a benevolent circle so that as we pray in Jesus name we become more able to see what Jesus would do…and to work with him to achieve this.
We pray, God works and to him be the glory. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Learning Curve

Oh dear...I had so hoped to be a Better Blogger this week, but the pressures of life continue to get the better of me.
So, here's a bit of what i've been doing - so please just imagine me doing more of the same if I go quiet for a while. It's not that I've died, or lost interest in blogging. There's just too. much . happening.
Monday - morning playing in my lovely church school (still on its spring holiday - so no children in sight, but excellent conversation with the Head and lots of ideas sparked in all directions)
Visits made and received. Weddings are coming in thick and fast, which is wonderful but demanding, like so much else in my life.
Failed attempts to get to grips with the "urgent - pending" tray.
Tuesday - Funeral in church and then interment in the town cemetery - a beautiful site on the side of the hill but with definite challenges for the noble army of grave diggers
A batch of baptism families
Mothers Union AGM
Whistle-stop tour of Parish on the Hill, to help me keep track of who lives where
Wednesday - Eucharist, lots more baptism and wedding visits
Thursday - another Eucharist, diocesan healing group, fundraising committee for Church on the Hill's wonderful and historic roof, social evening in the village on the hill.
Friday - day off. Trip to Ikea. Lovely friend visiting. Time to footle with pleasant trivia.
Saturday - paperwork, visits made and received. Sermon...oh dear me yes, sermon. They don't get better, you know!
And do you know what - unaccountably, tomorrow is Sunday. Again!!!!

I'm still struggling with the urge to say "I'll ask WonderfulVicar" in response to almost any question.I'm wondering by what unwritten law of nature all the ladies in both churches seem to be either Margaret, Mary or Marion and what I can possibly do to change this...and what happens when I drop the first of the many balls I am juggling.I'm beginning to suspect that curacy trains you brilliantly to be the priest in charge of your training parish, but maybe not so much for anywhere else. There as so many things here that fall to the vicar's lot, I fear I won't even notice those things which I've left undone until their absence causes something vital to crash and burn.

Watch this space, dear people!
And keep on praying, please...

A blog less visited - speedy update

Yes I'm still alive. No, I haven't abandoned blogging in favour of some other more exciting pursuit. I am, quite simply, busier than I have ever been in my whole life - and though it's mostly wonderful it's also incredibly demanding and exhausting, so late-night blogging is as unlikely as finding a quiet half hour to blog in the day. One big difference here seems to be that nearly every sort of encounter happens in the evenings, not just official meetings per se - so it's quite hard to carve out time for other stuff (such a motherhood or dog walking) at all. I'm assuming that once I've begun to learn my way round things will settle into some sort of pattern, which may leave space that I can use to blog- though even then, I'm not certain what type of blogging will be appropriate in order to safeguard the new relationships that lie ahead here. The last thing I want is for someone to half read a post and jump to wild and anxious conclusions. So...things may be a bit quiet here for a wee while, though I'll drop in when I can. Meanwhile, boxes are mostly unpacked and there are pictures on the walls. I have survived the APCM at Valley Church (Hill Church has its annual meeting this week), presided and preached at Sunday and mid-week services in both places, taken my first funeral here and spent lots of time with baptism and wedding couples. School term resumes on Monday, bringing with it a whole raft of new connections to be made and, thank God, children to engage with. I'm beginning to have ideas and dream dreams, I'm learning what has been part of the vicar's role here (which might have been sorted by the huge array of "support staff" at St M's) and will hopefully have the full picture before I fail to do something of vital import. I'm having a lovely time...and sleeping the sleep of the utterly wiped out! I am hugely and constantly grateful that the Evil Dillon has settled well in a Jack Russell orientated family, where he is one of 3 bouncy, noisy small dogs and seems to be having a ball. The humans in that household have halos, wings and very shiney medals from the Fleming Family Rescue Society as the thought of Dillon barking the walls down at the vicarage is something that is all too easy to imagine, but would be distressingly hard to live with...Mufti, in contrast, has settled happily on the sofa in the new study and ventures out to the park and the letter box if offered, but is otherwise content with the vicarage garden and the odd game of catch as catch can with the cats...She does a great line as a non anxious presence, does Mufti, which is something to be prized as we continue to learn who we are and how we are here!

Timely reminder

As I leapt out of bed this morning (not a pretty sight) I reflected ruefully that my intent to read at least one worthwhile book every week seems to have fallen well and truly by the wayside in recent weeks...and what's worse, I can't currently see how I'm going to structure life to allow time for serious reading at an hour when I'm not too wiped out to absorb it. Then Cal listed her books so far for the Reading Challenge over at What's for Afters, and so reminded me that I was supposed to be blogging my way through my reading this year....and I was shamed all over again.
Now even Henri Nouwen is getting at me.Listen to this, today's Daily Meditation

Reading often means gathering information, acquiring new insight and knowledge, and mastering a new field. It can lead us to degrees, diplomas, and certificates. Spiritual reading, however, is different. It means not simply reading about spiritual things but also reading about spiritual things in a spiritual way. That requires a willingness not just to read but to be read, not just to master but to be mastered by words. As long as we read the Bible or a spiritual book simply to acquire knowledge, our reading does not help us in our spiritual lives. We can become very knowledgeable about spiritual matters without becoming truly spiritual people.

As we read spiritually about spiritual things, we open our hearts to God's voice. Sometimes we must be willing to put down the book we are reading and just listen to what God is saying to us through its words.

All confirmation of something I know very well - that God reaches me through the written word again and again...so I really do need to get on with making space for this, or I'll hit a wall soon and be no use to anyone.

***********

Meanwhile, what have I been reading at all recently? The only thing of note was the happy sighting of Anne Lamott's Grace (Eventually) on the bookstall at New Orleans airport on my way home from the Big Event. I'd finished it before I landed at Birmingham, and loved it...well written and though provoking in equal measure but so easy to read that I could imagine reading more Lamott for relaxation as much as nutrition. Lovely.
I have this vague feeling that it might be coming up as a RevGals book club special, but I can't persuade the site to show me what's planned, just those titles that have already been discussed. Because most of them are published in the US I've not really keyed into the book group thus far, but maybe I should make reading the monthly book a priority from now on. It scares me to think that incumbency might seriously limit my reading.

Making all things new - a Friday Five about moving.

As Friday is now my day off, there's at least some hope that I might get to Friday Fives in better time these days - and how could I possibly resist this week's offering from Mother Laura?

We are right in the middle of a move--only twenty minutes away, but we're still a mix of busy, excited, nervous and surprisingly full of grief about what we're leaving, for me at least. So this week's Friday Five asks about your experience of the marvels and madness of moving...

1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?
Ummm...about 10 days ago now. When I was a child we didn't move at all. My mother had survived the disturbing experience of leaving China as the Japanese arrived during WW2. She and her grandmother embarked for Scotland, where the only contact they had was the solicitor who had drawn up her grandfather's Will...This somewhat skewed her attitude to moving,- so it just didn't figure in my parents' Grand Scheme. I thus moved for the first time 6 months after my father's death, when Mummy and I moved from the house I'd grown up in, complete with HUGE garden, to something rather more manageable. My next move was from Sussex to London, when I graduated from university. My one bedroomed flat was exchanged for the terraced Victorian house that both Hattie Gandhi and Hugger Steward first called home, then we left London for rural Gloucestershire and Lower Farmhouse when HS was just 1 year old. Our next move was to Privet Drive just before my ordination in 2004, and now here we are in the Vicarage. So, this is my 5th house move in my 5th decade. Could be worse, I guess


2. What do you love and hate about moving?
I love setting up home in a new place... Before the accumulation of family junk takes over it is delightfully reminiscent of playing house as a child. You get to put everything in absolutely the right place, you get a chance to think where the "right" place might be, and it's all new and shiney. On the other hand, there's this ghastly period when there is a place for nothing and you keep on looking for things roughly where they used to belong...And the process of packing and of saying Goodbye is utterly wretched. HATE IT.

3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?
Thanks be to God, the diocese pays for movers now ours are clergy moves. Not sure I'd ever dare do it myself anyway....the piano alone would defeat me.

4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?
Sadly, none. Except to have a box packed with all your short term essentials - kettle, mugs, corkscrew, glasses...and maybe a few bananas as an instant fix. Thriving is way beyond me at times like this!

5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?
Hope so. Working hard on growing up and growing into my new roles...

Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what moving means to you.
When I was a student and moving away from home and first love for the first reluctant time, I used to play the Haydn D Major cello concerto to "warm up" my new room..so forever more, this is the "settling in" music of my inner soundtrack. But generally the process of moving is so gruelling that, atypically, I can't connect with those things that generally give my world shape and meaning. On the whole, I guess I'm a seriously unenthusiastic mover - which makes my current vocation a bit unfortunate really.Guess I'd better aim to be here for the long haul.