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

“Not in control…

… but technically in charge”. +Bob’s words, relayed by Trevor Hart in his sermon today, and perfectly summing up Bob’s ministry past, present and future. For he is, as has been described elsewhere, a holy and humble servant of Christ. A responsibility lies beneath the pointy hat, a Bishop’s mitre is always heavier than it appears. But that responsibility is one which will be carried ably and with an unnassuming dignity, if not always with ease. God is in control.

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…

blog equation

family visitors + much work+ still ill hubby = little sleep and no time

the beardy one has been off work now since the 10 June with no voice and limited energy after mystery virus. Consultant visit tomorrow to try and get to the bottom of things. please pray.