Rain, rain go away, come again another day, you can't won't stop us celebrating, God's precious Holy Spirit (after the style of, and even less profound than 'Wind, wind, blow on me', which we sang today).
We had fun - about 60 of us - celebrating, singing, listening, watching, tasting, smelling and worshipping.
Despite my worse fears, it did not deteriorate into a circus with so many participants - I think my folk are now well trained to move during hymns or look out for a nod rather than waiting to be announced, and the musicians swapped round quite efficiently.
I know not everyone will have enjoyed every part of the service, but I hope they went away encouraged that in God's sight they are precious, that God is always with them and that God inspires them to share the good news in a language (of speech or action) that others can understand.
It was good to have young people leading some of the singing (interesting combination of piano accordian and saxophone plus percussion) as well as the Methodist worship band (guitar, flute and organ) and some traditional organ music too. It was good to have the vicar's mini-expository sermon on Ezekiel to balance my talk on balloons and candles (and chocolate!). It was good to have some liturgy and some extempore prayer. It was good to have drama and a 'join in please' activity. In short, it was less Babel and more Pentecost, less uniformity and more unity, less denominations working together and more Church in diverse expressions.
As I packed away the left overs, I found myself pondering the enormous journey we've travelled in three and a half years and the grace of God that has permeated even my ham-fisted and sometimes downright bizarre attempts to guide my folk along the way.
It is still raining here in Dibley, but we celebrated, and that seems good.