Today I enjoyed some lovely rabbit holes researching assorted bits of information relating to the Vicar School.

In the chapel there is a wonderful tapestry that I have long admired (and lament the reality that it is now mostly hidden behind a rather large projection screen. Next to the tapestry is a small, almost eroded dedication plaque, just a few centimetres in either direction...

By photographing it, zooming in (a lot) and studying it closely, I was able to discern what it said...

TWO CITIES

THE EMBROIDERED PANEL IN THIS CHAPEL
WAS DESIGNED AND MADE BY RENATE MELINSKY IN 1978
AND PAID FOR WITH MONEY GIVEN
IN MEMORY OF
DAVID HALDEN

With a little bit of digging, I discovered that Renate Melinsky entered the UK via kindertransport,and her husband, Canon Hugh Melinsky, was the great grandson of a rabbi tortured in the 1905 pogrom.  Their connection to the 'vicar school' was the Church of England's Northern Ordination Course which was based here in Manchester for many years.

I don't know, and can't find anything to help me identify, the two cities (or the person in whose memory it was created)... is it Manchester and Mirfield? Or is it somehow linked to the vision of Revelation?  And does it matter?

An enjoyable diversion this evening, and one that, for me anyway, made a few connections.

I love Rutter's arrangement of the Aaronic blessing, and I am enjoying learning the alto part to sing along with our 'Occasional Choir' for Pentecost.  My ability to sight read is reasonably good, but my ability to pitch is not, so I am very grateful for note-bashing videos (what did people do before such things existed?) and also for backing tracks that allow my test out my singing with a little more of challenge.

I think I have nearly sussed the 'Amens' (probably the most challenging rhythmically since all four parts are very different) but still wobble off key in the middle.

It's fun giving it a go, and I am grateful that people are willing to give it a go.

Goodall's Psalm 23 next...?!

Three months ago, the specialist vet described Sophie as 'a very sick pussy cat'.  After a raft of tests, we worked with our regular vet and, finally, after three months Sophie is now collar-free and (so far) not over-grooming.  She will be on meds for the rest of her little pussy cat life, but she seems to be happy and, overall, healthy.

When I took her with me to church on Christmas Day (the vet said she should on no account be left at home) I wondered how much longer we might have... as we pass Easter, I know she's a senior cat with conditions that will eventually catch up with her, but she has a good quality of life, at least for now.

Maybe that's some sort of parable or something - about not changing the overall trajectory but at least making the most of the the here and now - and maybe it's just an excuse to put more cat photos on the internet which is, after all, why it was invented.

Yesterday we had a joint service with or Methodist neighbours, with them coming to us for Low Sunday.  A month ago we went them.  Both services were well-attended with similar numbers from each, small, church, and both services seem to have been well-appreciated.

There is much to reflect upon going forward, but to me it felt that this was a glimpse of a new possibility, a small green shoot that, if carefully nurtured, could become a good thing... nothing too threatening to wither congregation, just a sharing of resources and mutually supporting and encouraging one another... each congregation having a few services where all they have to do is 'show up', a time to draw breath and receive, and each congregation  being able to be part of something a little bit bigger, broader, and more wonderful.

Scratch/scraper art crosses for the intercessions worked well - both congregations are used to intercessions led from the front and are uncomfortable even  being asked for prayer requests, let alone praying aloud, but they really engaged well with small groups being invited to 'scratch' their prayers in words or symbols onto the crosses, which they then placed on the Communion Table along with the offering.

Yes, there are things to learn, to do different or better.  Yes, there bits that went wrong - there always will be.  Yes, some people don't/won't go to the other church (so they get a week off, so what?!).  Overall though, a good thing and, imo, worth doing more of. 

Today I did some volunteering by helping to train other volunteers new to the service I volunteer with.  I was surprised to be told that I have provided telephone and/or email support to more than two hundred women affected by breast cancer.  That's a lot of privileged conversations, a lot of trust being expressed, a lot of vulnerability on the part of those I've supported.

In the eleven or so years I've been active, so much has changed - more people are being diagnosed than ever and waiting times for treatment are creeping up.  At the same time, there are so many new and better treatment options available now than there were back in 2010/11.  Yet, at the heart of it all are real people hearing those dreaded words, 'I'm sorry, it's cancer'. People of all shapes and sizes, ages and stages, people of every sex and gender, race, religion, political opinion, relationship status etc etc etc... 

It takes a lot of courage for someone to contact a support service, to share details of their diagnosis, their questions, their thoughts and feelings - yet they do.

It's a great privilege to be trusted by people in times when they are especially vulnerable, afraid, angry, bewildered, numb, or whatever unique mix of emotions it may be.  Sometimes I wonder if, almost fifteen years past diagnosis I still have anything valuable to share - then I speak to someone who just needs a 'good news story', a story that says there is hope, there is a future.

Sometimes someone church-related will refer to this role as a ministry, and perhaps it is.  Certainly, for me, it is a source of surprising joy and fulfillment, which is truly a great reward.