I’m back!

On the phone last night to a friend I havent seen in ages - the father of my 2 not-so-wee-anymore Goddaughters. J told me off for not updating the blog in a while, and was checking that things were generally ok.

Pentecost seems an appropriate time to start again - new life, new energy and all that jazz which is so important in church and in life.

Its just been a case of blog staleness, rather than anything major that has kept me away this last month and a half - life continues as ever with its varying busy-ness. Time has been spent balancing family/social/work lives (how do those of you with kids manage this???)  and rebuilding energies and enthusiasm in the 2 wee churches here in the West End, with mixed results. A joint service last Sunday (as we do on the first sunday of every month) saw a couple of visitors bravely invited along by members who have been thinking about mission as we’ve worked through some of the “leading your church into growth” material.

That the skeptics (in the nicest possible way) bit the bullet and decided to invite someone was success in itself - though you should have seen the faces when those “invitees” came along! It was wonderful. A congregation of almost 50 for a joint service is unheard of, but there we had it, and it was great!

Update

Mum is doing well in hospital down south.  More scans today, results tomorrow, and if all is well back home on Thursday.  Yorkshire has never seemed quite so far away until this week.

Please Pray

Mum had a heart attack yesterday. Please pray for Margaret

Birthday bliss

Finally got around to seeing part of my birthday present last night, with a glass of wine in hand. Alan purchased for my entertainment a copy of Anarchy in the Ukelele. And it was brilliant. I know I’ve posted on these guys before, but this is genious

I heard about these guys initially 2 days after they played the Edinburgh Festival. I’m hoping they are in Scotland again soon. would love to see them live.

Good memories

I still remember my first day in St Andrews, St Andrews as though it were yesterday.

I was invited along by a friend. The rector stood outside, greeting everyone. He must have asked Dave, for at communion he placed bread into my hands and called me by name. Following the service, he introduced me to people who took a genuine interest in who I was. Those simple personal gestures, not being labled as “just another student”, but being seen as an individual, precious in God’s eyes, made me want to go back.

Not long after, a matter of weeks, I turned up on the rectory doorstep at 9am. “How do you know if God is calling you to be a Priest?” Not the easiest of questions at anytime of day. To be honest, I was half-expecting him to laugh. He didn’t. “Why? do you think you are?” No ridicule, no condescending tone, just a simple honest question. “I don’t know.” I stuttered. “That’s a very good place to start, tell me about yourself”. So began the adventure.

I recieved guidance and love, not only from Bob and Liz Gillies, but from a congregation willing to trust the leadership of their Rector, a congregation willing to see potential and allow it room to blossom, even when what they saw wasn’t recognised by its owner. Being prepared for selection by Bob wasn’t easy - far from it. There were times I wanted to scream and shout at him, and he knew it (there were times I probably did) : the probing questions, the pains and vulnerabilities explored. There was laser-precise insight, sharp wit, and a willingness to learn from my experience of life and faith in a church tradition different to his own. An idea was met with “Go do it. If it doesnt work, we’ll figure out why together, and then you can try again”.

I don’t get back to the old town much - the last time was not long after I was ordained priest, invited back to preach. It was terrifying. A congregation of my former St Mary’s lecturers and people who had become my friends, the people who knew me at my best and my worst, all looking with anticipation at this wee lass who could barely see over the pulpit! The people without whose prayers and support I would not be doing what I am doing now.

Those old friends are without a rector for a while now, as Bob and Liz and the family move north. Yesterday was Bob’s final day. They will feel strange for a while, maybe even vulnerable, but they will do well. They have had the wisdom and support of a rector who has created space for them to grow, to love and share, to take risks; but most of all to be who God called and created them to be.

No doubt this time of transition will be strange for Bob, Liz and Timothy also, but like the congregation they will do well, as will the Diocese of Aberdeen under Bob’s leadership. Bishop-elect, old friends, my family in faith: my prayers and love are with you.

Grampa Simpson has left the building…

The voice has gone again.

Completely.

He’s been back at work a week, with restricted hours (9.00-12.00 until Tuesday, then yesterday and today 9.00-3pm). They had hoped he would be back full time next week. His voice seemed to be coping, no change in pitch, tone or hoarseness; his energy levels have been all over the place, but for now we’ve put that down to doing very little for 3 months. The voice vanished mid-sentence in a conversation with a work colleague who immediately assumed he was joking and started laughing. Slowly it dawned on them that it wasnt a joke, and that he really couldn’t talk.

Thankfully he was laughing about it when he got home (I think for him it was one of those don’t know whether to laugh or cry moments), but consultants and GP’s have been phoned in the hope of chasing up that “urgent referral” to the speech therapist.

At least, following the consultant appointment we know there’s nothing too scary going on, no nodules to be removed or nasty growths. Doesnt make it any less frustrating though, especially for him.

“I used up all my sick days so called in dead…”

…was the choice of T shirt slogan he briefly contemplated for dress down day at the office today. Yep, Alan is back at work, today is his second day. Part time for now, as we assess how his energy levels and voice hold out. He still sounds like Grampa Simpson having a rough day, and is still waiting for speech therapy appointments, but was going stir crazy at home. He needed to be doing something more productive. He went in for a visit last week, and his boss was relieved at his decision too - “just give me a shout if you need anything….” If only!

Thankfully he decided against that t-shirt. His sense of humour may have returned, but he wasn’t sure about his boss…

Unsinkable Rubber Ducks

Church yesterday found me ignoring my prepared sermon, and speaking “off the cuff” about the way the church treats people and issues.  With the situation in the Anglican Communion as it is, this invariably involved talking about the prejudices and pressures in the arguments regarding issues of human sexuality.

The sad thing is they are arguments which will not be won, arguments in which neither side will admit defeat or be converted to the other side’s way of thinking.  They are unsinkable rubber ducks bobbing on the rough waters of life and faith.

what has worried me throughout the whole mess of the last few years is the vitriol and bile coming from church-people at all levels of the institution on both sides of the argument - little room for, or expression of, the Holy Spirit in the way people are treated, regardless of the side of the argument they hold.  The pro-gay’s are “evil, corrupting the church”, the anti’s are “uneducated, lacking compassion or understanding, prejudiced” (paraphrases there…)

Regardless of which side of the arguments hold one’s loyalties,  people deserve more. They deserve not to be labelled and cast aside. They deserve to be loved, valued, respected and cared for as children of God, whether we like them or not, whether we agree with them or not.  Not easy I know. Loving those we hurt or hate, or who hurt & hate us, never is.  But I seem to remember a wise bloke once said something about loving our enemies.  In the end, such revolutionary attitudes were the death of him, but life for the rest of us.

Such men as these

Finally watched Amazing Grace today, didn’t get a chance when it was at the cinema. It reminded me of my childhood.

Growing up in Yorkshire, learning at a young age about “local men done good” like Wilberforce (Hull was part of Yorkshire when he was an MP), and Sir Titus Salt, fed my interests in politics and in the wide world outside of my limited experience. The showed me that people can be unknown to you personally, but still valued; that the value placed on an individual is regardless of the work they can do or the colour of their skin; that one person can make a difference, can even change the world, by raising a voice or by living in a particular way. Salt, as many of my fellow students pointed out in later years, probably inherited some of his wealth from previous generations’ involvement in the slave trade. But he used that wealth to build and serve a community, paying his mill-workers an annually adjusted minimum wage, built a school and provided free education to all children of his workers to the age of 12. Health-care was provided by means of a purpose built almshouse, and a church was built to service the faith needs of the 850 homes he built. A novelty in Yorkshire, each of those houses had its own loo! The only things lacking in the village of Saltaire, until about 10 years ago, were a Pub and a Bookmaker. The pub is now there, aptly named “Don’t tell Titus”

The thing both of these men had in common, apart from being Yorkshiremen, was that they each lived what they believed, and despite antagonism, conflict and opposition, continued to do so until the day they each died. Politicians, activists, men of faith. Lives of faith and action, faith in action. Lives that still make a difference, and challenge and change perceptions. One is famous worldwide, the other only locally. But does that matter? The effects of both are still felt, at least by this Yorkshire educated lass.

Sadly, slavery still remains, even though outlawed. Injustice in the workplace, poor wages and poor health are still rife in many of our industrial (or post industrial) towns and cities. The work is not done. May God give this generation and future ones the courage and the voice to continue the work of such men as these.

Oh yeah - the movie’s not bad either.

voice equation

mystery virus + too much talking = saggy vocal chords.

Speech therapy excercises + talking a little = beardy one hopefully on the mend, but it may take some time

I wonder how the homeworking/already retired/housespouse spouses of newly retired people cope when suddenly someone who was out for most of the day is home all day and under their feet? I’m looking forward to the day he’s waking me up with a cup of coffee in hand before singing in the shower at 6am again! soon! (he’s been home WAY too long!)