It's been a while... not done any baking since before Christmas, so it was fun to get up early this morning to start on a bit of a baking frenzy... two separate lots to do and lunch out in Falkirk to fit in as well.

So these are part of the first batch - little gifts for the friends with whom I am having lunch.  It's a long time since I've seen many of them so I'm looking forward to a good blether and lots of laughter.

Then, in a moment of rashness a few wekes ago, I offered to bake for the inter-church BBQ taking place tomorrow, and need to knock off a couple of batches for that - it won't take long and I can decorate them this evening or tomorrow morning so the pressure is not too great.

Above all it's fun - most people like cake, and it's lovely to do something that brings happiness to others.

Lots of tributes to Maya Angelou, and lots of quotes from her.

I liked this one, which I think echoes, or more properly parallels, since she was way before me in the journey of life, much of my own learning in life.  In any case, I have always believed that our discoveries are our own, even if zillions of other people have already amde them before us...

Yesterday evening I set off for my seven mile training yomp, going round the loop clockwise for a change.  I opted for a fleece rather than a waterproof as the cloud was light and the outlook not too bad. 

By a mile in it was drizzly and mizzly but hey ho, there were lots of runners, dog-walkers, a few other yompers in hiking boots, and plenty of evening strollers. 

Reaching the Botanic Gardens it was steady drizzle, never enough to permeate my fleece, but enough that umbrellas were up, wipers on, and most people head down.  I could, I thought curtail my walk, take the two mile route back home and still have four miles or so under my belt.  But I pressed on, turning left along great Western Road.

Tourists and students scuttled along to reach their destinations and then the sight that made me smile - a family group, anoraks zipped up to the chin, stocially sat at a table outside a pub sipping their drinks with that indomitable spirit that says "we are Brits, we are at leisure, we are having fun!"  Well, Glaswegians asserting that it is meant to be almost summer, anyway.

Up to the motorway, round the corner, down Woodlands Road and into Kelvingrove Park.  Some lads playing five-a-side football in the rain, a group of "britmilfit.com" people running up and down the paths and round and round the fountain, a smiling dog-walker, a courting couple.  The play areas deserted (probably by now past bedtime for the children) but cyclists zooming along.

Over the road, past the former transport museum, along the side of the expressway and back up into Dumbarton Rd - still warm and dry inside my fleece, even if soggy of hair, as the drizzle drizzled on.

Home again, with a sense of satisfaction, and the pleasure of having seen so many other people out in the dull, wet evening, living life, having fun... as the old saying goes 'that's the spirit!'

Not a spiritual post, but one emerging from a wet walk that reminded me of what it means to be fully alive.

I think this post has been ruminating in my subconscious for a while now - certainly since my sermon John 10:10 that ended up interpretting Jesus' words as "I am come that you might be fully alive."  As with all the best sermons, it was one the preacher needed to hear as much as, if not more than, anyone else. If Jesus comes to make us fully alive, how come we spend somuch of our lives drifting along with the same old, same old - even those of us who have had the wake-up call of facing our own mortality and had the complacency of certainty taken from us?

The person leading intercessions that Sunday used the word 'mortal' in a creative and thoughtful way - the consequence of defining ourselves as people who will die, who are, infact, always dying, beofre suggesting that maybe we would benefit from describing, or defining, ourselves as 'natals' as people who are born, or maybe (though I don't recall them saying this) being born (certainly this would fit with the Johanine 'born from above/again' language).  This has been swirling in my subconscious for a while, and then slowly I realised that there might be a missing word: 'vital' - we could (should?) refer to ourselves as vitals, as people who live, who are living.

Or maybe it's all three - we are mortal, we are natal, we are vital...

Our lives are shaped by a complex blend of our mortality, our natality and our vitality.

As I continue to respond to my own sermon, as I seek to reconnect with those habits, rhythms and activities that energise me, I think it is helpful to recognise the inevitable interplay of these aspects of 'life in all its fullness'... letting go of what needs to die, opening myself to what is being born, and in all of it seeking what is vital.  Ah the delight of ambiguous words - vital as in needful, vital as essential, vital as life.

So, vitality - the activity of living; this is what Jesus offered - and, as the saying goes, "in spades"

Now this has been a rarity... I actually took my day off and the in-lieu-of-bank-holiday-Monday Tuesday properly 'off' this time.  And it has been good.

Yesterday after seeing my physio in the morning (ouchy!) I met up with some friends for tea and scones and a very quick meander round Kelvin Grove (why, oh why, does it close at 5 p.m.?  That's really early).  Today I did a heap of ironing, waited in for a roofer to call, and then headed off out for a seven mile training yomp around Glasgow - think I've got the route just about sorted now, though could add on another mile or so without too much messing about.

The upshot of all of this is that I feel relaxed and energised - both of which have to be positives.

Just to round it off nicely, it's a glorious evening in Glasgow.

Back to work tomorrow and the inevitable impact of a day off on work to get through, but being better rested will hoepfully mean I work better too.