Help My Nongue is in a Tot

Woken on yet another sweltering night from a mere half hour's sleep, by the wailing shrieking and eerie howling of neighbouring cats, I lay sweating and thinking of this evening's prior quacktice.

Aware vaguely that there was something wrong with that thought, I realised that the late lamented and much quoted Dr William Spooner and I had things in common.

It was he who when spotting his cat stuck high in a tree, called it and remarked that "it popped on its little drawers and was down in a trice".

A day or two ago I remarked to someone who was holding a long, tedious conversation with me on my doorstep that I had a "cot of poffee" waiting.

Somewhere I read a while ago of an evangelist who had "waved the Pay" for those who came after.

Why does the mind do this I wonder?  Is it aware that the body which is host to its meanderings is in need of entertainment?

Is it part of that same process which causes one to use an apparently random noun to complete an otherwise perfectly sensible sentence?

The thing which makes us say "I'm just off to catch my book", when we meant the bus to the library.

The older I get, the more aware I become that our mental 'timers' can very easily fall out of sync, so that while the conscious part of the brain is thinking one thing, the mouth - vehicle of the thought process - is doing something else entirely.

Sorry, I'm rambling.

Well it is the middle of the night.

The bed should have cooled down by now so will return and sly to treep!

The Singer or the Song - The Message or the Messenger?

This morning, we at St Mary's said an emotional fare well to our much loved rector and his wife.

They jointly conducted the service their last in this church where they have 'reigned' for the past seven years.

The congregation was twice its normal size, as was the choir, who despite the stifling heat sang their hearts out.

Last night we had a farewell party in the church which was very happy, light-hearted and great fun.  Today's celebration was of a very different order.

The personal sadness I feel at their departure made singing quite difficult and many people said the same thing, which made me stop and think for a moment about how we view our clergy.

It is I suppose, natural to become attached to the person/people who lead the prayer life of the  church but when should the ties be loosened?

The five, seven, or more years spent by the average ordained minister  in his/her church are but a small step in their personal journey, and realistically, an even smaller one in the life of an eight hundred year old church.
Yet the impact each one makes leaves lasting affects on the people they serve.

We are told we are the church, and that the building and the clergy who pass through it are simply there to aid the prayerful way of life we should all strive to live, but for those of us who spend rather more than just an hour or so on a Sunday in that person's company there is the dilemma of attachment and reliance to cope with when the incumbent moves on.

My answer to the question I posed in the title of this post is, that both are equally important.  A song no matter how beautiful is nothing without a singer to interpret it, and a message with no messenger to deliver it will never be received.

When the mixture is  right you get, as we have been lucky enough to have, a solid foundation for the Christian way of life and a community with a heart.

Bless you Shane and Micaela and thank you.

Worth the effort

Uncertain whether to brave the appalling heat in order to sing at this morning's eucharist, I made up my mind at the very last minute, and I'm very glad I did.

Not only did we sing quite well despite nearly passing out with the heat, but the service was a particularly poignant one for most of us.

Next week we will say goodbye to our dear rector and his wife, today she led the service and was joined as co-celebrant and preacher by none other than our lovely late curate.  None other than David Cloake of "Vernacular Vicar" fame.

His wife and the twins were with him so it was a very happy reunion for us all.

Wondering just what to expect by way of a sermon, it was with particular pleasure for me personally, that he chose to preach on the manner in which we might all 'survive' the coming interregnum.

After listing some of the problems which might arise during this very testing time for the church he went on to point to ways in which we could steer a straight course and come out of this period strong and whole and a loving community, rather than a broken and fragmented one, as might happen.

He referred us to today's second reading Colossians 1.  1-14, and said that it contained "all we needed to know" about coming through the interregnum  intact.

There were instances of the old 'barmy' David from time to time too, I was glad to see, since half his charm is his sheer 'off the cuff' lunacy.

There were also signs of a new maturity and calm and measured approach which were very good to see.

All in all, a lovely service and despite the heat, worth making the effort to attend.

I just hope and pray we at St. Mary's will find ourselves as settled, certain and resolute as he and his family appear to be.

Now I'll go and drink my green tea with lemon slices and hide from the sun.

It Aint Alf Ot Mum

This is a glamorised picture of the way I look (and feel).

Not a lover of hot weather, today is almost unbearable.  Somewhere in the 30's I believe.

Having shopped very very early and got a taxi home, I have done virtually nothing since starting to vacuum upstairs this morning.

The cleaner is on the stairs where, if I don't fall over it and break my neck, it will remain until it is cool enough to continue.

The eczema is just beginning to respond to treatment (after six weeks) and the garden is burning to a crisp, (will water at about 9.00 pm), the dust in the house lies undisturbed by human activity, apart from being breathed in by accident.

All the windows are open (blinds down on the sunny side) and the pong from barbeques is beginning.

At present, I am not looking forward to tomorrow's Eucharist (robed and surpliced) with anything other than dread, despite the fact that our lately (2 years ago) departed curate is returning to preach on what is almost the last Sunday our dear rector will be still with us at St. M's.

Looking forward to seeing (and hearing) David, but already shrinking at the thought of the heat of the choir robes.

If a large puddle emerges from the choir stalls and runs out of the church under the door, I will have melted.!

More later.

Or possibly not.