Happy Ordiversary to me!

 Today I have been ordained for 15 years. A statement I find pretty impossible to be fair.

Where did those 15 years go?

And, if I were to give some advice to my younger self - I wonder what that would be?

First: nothing is really as bad as you think it is. Be true to yourself, accept each day as it comes. There will be pain along the way - but so much more joy and pleasure that those painful days will fade into insignificance.

Second: don't be afraid to speak your mind! Being quiet when you see things that are wrong or unjust may feel safe, but you will regret not speaking up for the right. 

Third: the places you will go, and the people you will meet through your ministry are beyond your imagining; you will find support in the most unexpected places; you will make friends across the world; and you will have more opportunities through your ministries than you can ever imagine.

Fourth: spend time with the people you love. Make the effort to see them, talk to them, share experiences together. Because life is short and you never know what is waiting round the next corner. You will lose friends, your heart will break for them. Knowing you had lunch, shared a fun experience, said what was on your heart, will ease the sorrow and bring hope into the darkest days.

Fifth: you are not alone. In everything, in every difficulty, in every celebration, in every heartbreak, in every joy-filled moment: God is. And God will be with you every step of the way. God called you to this, God is with you through every step, breath, moment. God is. 

1958 - 62 Years Ago...

 Today is my parent's wedding anniversary. 

Neither is still alive, but that doesn't stop the date being significant and triggering memories. It's the same for my siblings, my brother sent a message to our family chat this morning, wishing them a Happy Anniversary.

I am minded of special celebrations we had for them over the years; for their Silver Wedding, they had a renewal of vows service and a big party. They loved big parties in those days. 

For the Pearl - 30 years, I was about to relocate to Scotland, and it seemed to be such a distance. We bought them flowers and gifts; the next big party was 10 years later, their Ruby wedding, they had another party, and another blessing, I wasn't able to get to that one (don't remember why now) and 10 years after that, their Golden Wedding we had a family get together, lovely big meal, and cake in the garden at my sister's home.

That was 12 years ago, and so much changed in those intervening years - not just their deaths, but marriage ended, marriages begun, babies born, new homes, new jobs - so much history, so many more chapters in our lives.

Now that they are not in the little house by the sea, I do not visit so often, do not see my brother and sister as often as I used to. This year of course, none of us has travelled like we normally would, the hopes of gatherings this summer for wedding were dashed by lockdowns, and restriction on numbers who could gather. Life goes on. life is different.

One thing remains constant. Love abounds. We may not see each other often, but love ties us together, unites us even when we are apart.

Happy Anniversary mum and dad - united again in eternity. 

The whole family, gathered for Dad's 80th Birthday 2012

24 Hour Rant Alert!

 What has happened to the news?

I ask this because again today I found myself shouting at the TV. 

This happens on a more or less regular daily basis. The news, should be information about the world, the nation and the community. It should be facts. Accurate. True. Unbiased facts.

Not speculation.

Not the same line in four different iterations.

Not inane drivel from the "location" - how does making a journalist stand on a rainy roadside add to the integrity or accuracy of a piece to camera?! 

The news has become a 24 hour stream of inanities. There is not enough real news for 24 hour coverage, so it has become necessary to repeat the same story, again, and again, ad infinitum and it is driving me to distraction. 

And! Do not get me started on the items that have become news. Nor the constant need for views of the man or woman in the street - Oh-my-gosh! There are too many stupid people in the world!

Don't ask their opinion, find someone who knows the topic and will give us an accurate fact based, scientific/ historic / politic answer. 

Another thing!! When an announcement is to be made, wait for the announcement. Later today "x" is going to tell us blah, blah, blah... so wait until later. Do not leak the report. Do not guess, and second guess what is going to be in the announcement. 

For my sanity. For my health. I have stopped watching the news. I'd rather watch repeats of Say Yes to the Dress, or Dr Pimple Popper* than listen to another TV journalist spew populist drivel as an approximation of real news. I get my news via the radio, in short 5 minute reports. It is enough. In these strange and terrible days we are living through, it is enough.

News must wait. My heart and mind cannot take any more of the 24 hour stream of drivel. So I give up. I am better without it! 

*can anyone explain why Dr Pimple Popper is oddly compulsive viewing?? 

A Stitch in Time

 One of the things that has kept me going these past months is sewing.

It has long been a productive pastime: I used to make clothes for me and for the boys when they were wee. Then I entered ministry and the sewing machine was confined to the back of a cupboard for a LONG TIME.

In my last call I started a banner group, and my sewing machine came out the cupboard, was dusted off and put to use. I rediscovered my love of stitching. taking pieces of cloth and snip, snip, stitch, stitch creating new and lovely things.

At the start of the Lockdown, back in March, I reclaimed sewing time. I had created a craft room when we moved to this new manse, but apart from hemming curtains, hadn't really used it much. I went through all the boxes I'd brought, sorted through the works in progress, the half finished projects, and began to work through them. I made masks and gave them away - around 80 all told. I finished a quilt started at least 20 years ago. I finished a sewing bag, and made a couple more; took a commission - it was such fun! 

I have now bought a new sewing machine - it's amazing compared to the one I had which was at least 25 years old. Now I'm working on some new projects - but they are secret! Gifts for loved ones, I have photographed, but won't be going into details just yet! Here is the quilt... it sits on my chair in the study, and gives me such pleasure, knowing I have stitched myself. 

Time... where did it go?!

 I have a photo frame on my dressing table; it's one of those that's a kind of book fold, so you can have two pictures side by side.

In it, I have two pictures of my three sons, in the first, is the oldest and youngest, the one holding the other, they are about 9 & 2 in that shot. The other, my middle boy, is gazing towards them, he would be 7 I guess. There were taken on the same day, and they were either end of a sofa. A moment, captured in time. 

I have many, many photographs of my boys over the years, they are now, 36, 34 and 29... I'm not entirely sure how that happened - because surely I'm still only in my 30s too?! 

We have a couple things we do when taking pictures on the rare occasions I get them all together: we recreate previous photos, and I have a gallery of those, all framed and hanging on the upstairs landing... my boys, from babies to men. The other thing we do, which began when they were grumpy teens: is what we called catalogue poses. They didn't know how to stand, or felt awkward, or just messed about. One of them, (probably middle boy) came up with the idea of a catalogue pose, and they immediately struck a pose, SNAP! it was done, captured for all time. 

Photos of my boys; of my beloved; of my siblings; of my nieces and nephews; of my parents, of good friends and happy occasions are all hung and displayed around my home. Reminders of love, of connection, of ties that hold us all together. 

They give me joy.

They remind me, we are never alone. We have each other. We are loved. 

Life in the Year of Covid

 I am a little stunned to discover it is more than a year since I last wrote a piece or uploaded a sermon here.

Where has this past 12 months gone? There was the relocation of course; and the getting to know a new congregation, a new Presbytery, new ways of doing things, new people, new neighbourhood... the list goes on and on... and then, when 2020 was in its infancy, the world faced one of its biggest challenges: a global pandemic, the like of which we have not seen for more than a century.

In January I joined with dear friends and went (as is our want) to the Caribbean for a cruise. Whilst there we talked about this flu thing that seemed to be going around, and speculated how it might cause some challenges. Never dreaming what could have happened! A week home, and we heard of a cruise ship, quarantined, all the passengers confined to the ship, and gave thanks that it wasn't us. 

Mid-February it became clear that this was no ordinary flu; this virus had some major complications, and news of deaths began to percolate through. News of infections in the UK rose, and bit by bit people began to be afraid. By early March we were avoiding shaking hands, we were using hand sanitiser - and the shops ran out of toilet roll. (It's a flu-like virus- why toilet roll?!!) 

On March 15 we celebrated communion in church, and I felt the fear. The way we did things changed, and I was relieved to come out into the spring sunshine at the end of the service, saying goodbye to our congregants, hoping that all would be ok. Just two days later, churches were closed, and less than a week after that the whole country was confined to home. LOCKDOWN. 

The last week of March I began to have an ache in my side when I breathed. I spent an anxious few hours trying to talk myself in and out of the virus; but then I began to get a raised temperature, by April 4th I had been diagnosed as Covid Symptomatic: no testing available unless you were needing to be admitted to hospital... it was the day before Palm Sunday, and I had already recorded the service for sharing online. Looking back at that service, it is possible to see my decline over the day. 

The next two weeks were lost to me; fever; coughing that wracked my already aching body; pain in every single joint; exhaustion like I have never before experienced. The worst night; the night my fever went over 39 degrees, I wept because I hadn't written letters to my sons; I didn't know if I'd ever see them again, I wanted desperately to hold my husband, but he was in the next room, with his own fever, and his own wracking cough. 

Fast Forward. It is now almost the end of September. I am still not 100% well. Exhaustion is my constant companion. I have to work really hard to pace each day, to not over commit, to make sure that nothing in my diary is so set in stone that I cannot find a sub or postpone an event. I give thanks every day for the support and love of my church. Their encouragement and care has kept me going. They are not afraid to tell me when I work too much, or look tired on the Facebook reflections; we now meet virtually, we have a new vocabulary, new ways of being church with each other.

This past Sunday, 20 September, I led worship back in the church building. It was six months and one week since we were last able to gather. How different it looked! Designated seating. Everyone in a mask; music but no singing; a phone camera recording the service for those who were unable to attend. Numbers were restricted, but we were not over subscribed because so many people are still unsure, feel unsafe, feel afraid. Life is very different.

The numbers of infections, which seems so well controlled after the restrictions of the spring, are now beginning to rise again. People have got used to the new normal and are beginning to relax, perhaps a little too much. Autumn is here. Flu season is round the corner and we wait with bated breath to discover if we will once again be confined to home. 

I have learned many new skills this year. Things I never knew I would need to do. Things that seemed to be unnecessary for ministry. And yet... here we are.

In all of this I have led worship, reflected, sought God in this new way of being.

In all of this, God has been an ever present comfort. In the depths of my despair the Psalms filled my heart with words of lament, and comfort, of fury and joy. Where I am, God is. And God is GOOD.

I hope, and pray, it will not be another year before I write another post!