Among those of us who participate in both morning and evenig worship, there is often a surprising sense of connection between two services prepared totally independently.

Yesterday morning, we had explored the 'Mysteries of the Rosary' asking ourselves 'what kind of God' is glimpsed in the joyful, luminous, sorrowful and glorious mysteries, which are (with only a couple of exceptions) firmly rooted in scripture.

In the evening, someone was sharing with us a selection of beautiful Hebredian prayers, translated from Gaelic, that were mostly Roman Catholic in origin, and had been collected in the 19th Century as Carmina Gadelica, which can be found online here.  It was a very beautiful, relaxed evening and a much needed close to a weekend distrubed by news of human inhumanity.

So, one of those 'hmmm' moments, and a much needed 'ahhh' in the presence of the God whose embrace is safe and sure.

Having spent a large part of my adult life in the North West of England, including Manchester, and now living in Glasgow, rain is just part of everyday life.  From mizzle and drizzle to stair-rods and 'cats and dogs', bouncing and stoating, and many, many more.

I recall, and have shared many times, the occasion when I was asked to take a South African exchange student to register at the Manchester University Library.  It was raining, and he said, "so we can't go."  I looked at him, probably a very old-fashioned look, and said, "if you don't go our when it rains, you'll never go out"

After a wonderful, and uncharacteristically dry October (though it was very similar in 2009 when I arrived, and I have a thing about 6-7 year weather cycles!) it is now making up for it here, with lots of full on rain, some of almost monsoon quality!!  And I found myself recalling that even Shakespeare knew of such weather when he wrote Twelfth Night whith Feste observing (maybe metaphorically) "the rain it raineth every day"...

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain, it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain, it raineth every day.

But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain, it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

As anyone who lives in the wet parts of these islands will tell you, there's no such thing as the wrong kind of weather, just the wrong kind of clothes!