On Monday I attended the first of seven weeks of a Baptist Union on-line interactive pre-retirement course.  I will be honest, as was the speaker on Monday, I didn't bring high hopes to the event... I am doing it because, well, I am an obedient person, it counts as CMD and there is just the possibility it might have a few nuggets of something.  So, a big thank you to the speaker both for legitimising my feelings and also for some quality input.

The suggestion was  five-strand theology of retirement (I took a screen shot of the PowerPoint slide)...

• Vocation - what (if anything) did ordination 'do' and what does calling look like in this season of life?
• Rest / Sabbath - the place of the bucket list and the 'stuff-it' list (known in other, less polite circles, as the f*** it list) and quality rest.
• Gospel/Kingdom - if you had the time, how would you like to change the world right now?  New outlets for serving
• Discipleship - more space, less pressure... so need new rhythms
• God - unchanging but brings change (and adding, as we reflected on in college chapel yesterday, God's mind can change)

One participant, helpfully I think, added a sixth strand - Community.

None of this neatly alliterates or forms a 'sexy' acronym, and I like that... it isn't neat and tidy or one size fits all.

All through the talk I was itching to get some threads and start plaiting/weaving/tying/stitching - and I will in deed do so, just waiting to decide quite what form it might take before I begin.  

As I type this the scaffolding that was erected to replace the manse roof is being dismantled and removed.  Once the very full skip has been removed from the drive, something approaching normality will begin, and I can begin to exercise my favourite approach to pastoral care and/or community building, namely hospitality.  I have three gatherings now being advertised to church folk...

• Coffee and Chat - an 'open house' model; a chance for people to look at the house the church has recently bought and upgraded, hopefully meet the manse moggies, and feel that this is a place they are welcomed
• Spuds, s'mores 'n' more - adapting something we did twice successfully in Railway Town, whereby, weather permitting we can gather in the garden, much warming food and enjoy fellowship.  If it rains, well we do the same inside, with less smoke!
• Boxing Day Soup and Stroll - does what it says o the tin really, except the soup won't be out of a tin!  An opportunity for a short walk and a bowl of soup for anyone whose at a loose end on Boxing day.

Once I see how these go, then I can start on a spring programme.  In the meantime, my next task is planning an Advent study series.  It's nice to feel like I am settling in and getting to know people.

The weekend just passed was very full and very blessed.

On Saturday morning, I had the privilege to attend the ordination and induction of one of our former students who has been called to the church where they were on placement. 

Saturday afternoon was spent leading URC lay preachers as they explored some pastoral factors in leading worship. 

Yesterday was the absolute joy of three baptisms, with one also being received into membership of the church.  These included the youngest and oldest people I have so far baptised.

And just to top it off, was the NWBA AGM online in the afternoon.

Feeling very blessed, and not a little tired, today!

This week, a team of roofers have been taking the roof off of my new manse and steadily creating  new one - currently bright pink waterproof membrane thingy and red batons (or whatever they are called).

It got me thinking...

When I was a ministerial student, I lived in part of a Grade 2 listed former vicarage.  During the second winter I lived there, part of the roof collapsed, and had to be replaced, along with treatment of serious penetrating damp.  I recall having to move out and stay in a room at college whilst the fungus was treated with highly toxic chemicals, and then having polythene sheeting over the walls until the brickwork dried out enough to re-plaster. 

The first church I served, back in 'Dibley' had a fanastic roof, the most expensive tiles possible, because they had had it roofed and within a year the tiles had begun to fail - the supplier was so mortified they replaced it with the most expensive tiles, free of charge.   Alas the walls and utilities were all decidedly dilapidated underneath the beautiful roof, and within a year we'd had to close the building, which was subsequent demolished. 

Then the 'Gathering Place' which had a long standing issue with the sanctuary roof that necessitated regular monitoring, and the added challenges of Grade B (roughly Grade 2 in England & Wales) listed status.  After two decades of faithful and sacrificial exploration of options to redevelop with a facade retention, the congregation took the courageous decision to step away and sold the site to a developer.  After a few more years of the developer seeking a solution, that building, too will almost certainly be demolished.

'Railway Town' is grade 2 listed, and has a sound roof - hurrah!  The amusing little tale is that the first time I preached there, we came out to find ourselves inside a police cordon as there had been a partial roof collapse at one of the houses opposite, and they were awaiting fire & rescue to make it safe enough to open the street.

And so here I am in the place which has yet to reveal its online name, with a sound church building, no listed statuses to worry about and a gorgeous, recently purchased, manse which is undergoing rigorous renovation that will last way longer than my tenure.

I am not sure what - if anything - any of this means, but it amuses and intrigues me that, if we look for connections, we can usually find, or maybe make, them.

Today, after doing some housework, putting on a pot of stew and taking a wander around the local shops, I hung some pictures and other items, among them the clock in the photo.  Not one of my pictures is valuable, if value is measured in pounds sterling, indeed I think this clock, purchased from a mail order catalogue (remember those?) and a twenty first birthday gift from my parents, was expected to last around five years, if I was lucky.

Seemingly, I am lucky, as I have now had it more than forty years, it has survived around ten house moves, has been dropped at least twice (the case is damaged and the glass long gone) but it still works.  It seems, having rehung it today that the chime mechanism, which had been wheezing ever since the last move, has finally failed.  Even so, the pendulum works, the battery powered motor still keeps reasonable time, and my clock 'lives' on.

I guess, in some way, this s a bit like life itself... I too have survived job changes, house moves,  physical and emotional injuries, some bits of my body don't function quite as well as they did, and yet, even if a bit slower, I still live a functional and rewarding life.

The picture hanging stirred many memories - of people and places, moments and milestones - their value will never amount to much in monetary terms, but to me they are priceless.  Again, a bit like life... most of us will never be financially rich or recognisably famous - but to those who love us, and who share our lives, we are immeasurably important and precious.

Maybe its a sign of the passing of time that I notice these things more than I used to. As the cheesy saying puts it, the past is gone and we cannot change it, the future is not promised and we can only wonder what it may bring, but what we have now is a real gift - which is why (super cheesy word play) we call it the present.  I hope my clock has years left to keep time, if not to chime - and that I live each moment to its full value.