It's getting quite scruffy now, a well-loved, well-worn, permamnently stained, pilled red duffle coat.  Definitely an air of the Paddington bear about it.

Bought in BHS in Coventry on a gloriously sunny Sunday morning five years ago (12th September 2010 for any fellow date-aholics) as a nose-thumb to being sensible, as a 'yaboo sucks' to cancer, as a moment when just for once I followed my heart not me head and treated myself to something I've always wanted.

It has served me well, keeping me warm during the icy cold 2010/11 winter, topping off festive outfits at Christmas, reminding me of how far I've travelled, and of the need to be a bit spontaneous now and then - that a little frivolity is actually good for the soul.  And this week, on a dull, chilly Wednesday, in an otherwise warm and sunny week, it had its first outing of 2015.

So I'm not fussed that the stains won't come out; that it is pilled where the velcro on my wrist splints stuck to the fabric or that it undoubtedly looks a little tired.  It is my rebellious red duffle coat, and I love it!

Yesterday morning I shared a short communion service with an older couple in their home, a monthly privilege where we sing well-loved hymns, share bread and 'wine', pray and then have a cuppa and a chat.

Yesterday afternoon I was visiting someone in hospital on the day they were allowed to go 'off the ward' to the hopsital cafe for the first time.  Along with a relative and a friend, we shared a cuppa and a chat, and then I prayed with them.  That was communion too.

This afternoon, with some other volunteers, I'll share tea and biscuits, play dominoes, sing redemption songs and listen to a speaker with a group of people, and quite possibly a dog.  Communion.

Coffee club in the pub, walking club on the hills (on the increasingly rare occasions I get there), meeting to plan a wedding ceremony... communion

Which is partly why I don't 'do' sacraments, or, if I must, why I'll have a 'sacramental universe'.  How is it a 'means of grace' to share in a religious ritual and not to hold the hand of a person who is anxious or grieving?  It isn't.  Pace all my sacramental friends, grace, like communion, comes in many kinds.