Yesterday evening was the annual service of grieving and gratitude, in which people are invited to recall and reflect upon those they have love and lost, find comfort and hope and continue onwards.  Here are the two poems we used in that context...

The Seasons of Grief

Tom Gordon

Every stage of grief has its season,

And every facet of loss has its time.

A time for disbelief, and a time for harsh reality.

A time to know, and a time to be consumed by unknowing.

A of clarity, and a time of uncertainty.

A time for public smiles, and a time for private tears.

A time to be thankful, and a time of regret.

A time of giving up, and a time for going on.

A time of living half a life, and a time of wanting to live again.

A time of then, and a time of now.

A time to feel hopeless, and a time to be positive.

A time of looking forward, and a time of wanting life to end.

A time of faith, and a time of doubt.

A time for holding on, and a time for letting go.

A time when steps are light, and a time when limbs are tired.

A time of hazy memories, and a time of instant recall.

A time for living with death, and a time for living with life.

A time of fruitlessness, and a time of growth.

A time of despair, and a time of purpose.

A time of emptiness, and a time of hope.

A time for rage, and a time for peace.

‘Don’t Tell Me that I Mourn Too Much’

Michael Rosen

Don’t tell me that I mourn too much

And I won’t tell you that you mourn too much

Don’t tell me that I mourn too little

And I won’t tell you that you mourn too little

Don’t tell me that I mourn in the wrong place

And I won’t tell you that you mourn in the wrong place

Don’t tell me that I mourn at the wrong time

And I won’t tell you that you mourn at the wrong time

Don’t tell me that I mourn in the wrong way

And I won’t tell you that you mourn in the wrong way

I may get it wrong, I will get it wrong, I’ve got it wrong

But don’t tell me.

The table after the last morning service communion to be held in this place since 1883... at least until we return in a couple of years time.

This morning we began a month of 'lasts' as we prepare to vacate our premises at the end of the month so that they can be (DV - or at least city council planning department willing, whichever is the more significant) redeveloped into a fantastic new facility to serve us, and those who follow us, into the next 130+ years of life at the Gathering Place.

We wove together our normal Sunday worship with a Special Church Meeting in which we authorised those who serve as Charity Trustees to sign necessary legal paperwork just as soon as it is finalised. We also expressed thanks to our longest served Member as she retired from leading our Pastoral Team... a woman whose family were among the earliest worshippers here.  And then we shared Communion... our battered wooden table clothed in white linen and laden with significant symbols... words I'd written specially, and words of scripture... we ate, we drank, we remembered... and we moved forward.

It was, for me, and I think for others, a significant moment... perhaps that's why spontaneous applause rang out after the ballot was announced... perhaps that's why I observed a few folk shed a tear, and even became momentarily choked myself... it is certainly why I decided on the spur of the moment that we'd end by singing the doxology together.

The first of the lasts... The next two Sundays I am away on leave and the "pulpit" will be filled by loved and trusted friends of this congregation before I am back for the very last Sunday in the 'old' place.

As we sang at the end of the service, "it's from the old we travel to the new, keep me travelling along with you".

A chapter concludes, but the story continues...