It's been a bit quiet in this corner of blogland - I've been otherwise occupied and not really had a lot I felt was appropriate to share.  Sometimes there are things going on that we prefer to keep private, and then realise that the public nature of our role makes that a tad tricky.  Sometimes, for all the right (or best intended) reasons we make a call and then discover that it is misunderstood.  This public/private interface is a tricky one to get right.

What follows is more public than I had hoped, but reflects the reality that people are incredibly good at putting two and two together and making a huge number if you are too guarded in what you share!  Perhaps, because there is a risk a few hearts are already pounding and fearing the worst, I need to begin by saying that there is nothing nasty, sinister or worrying going on.  However, jungle drums, grapevines and other leaks mean that partial stories have already arisen and rumours need to be scotched, best I can.  There is also a sense that this blog post is "hiding in plain sight" ... hopefully what that means will become clear.

I know a number of readers of this blog also check out the Gathering Place website, read our magazine online or listen to our service podcasts.  This means that you may already have spotted that there has been a change to our preaching plan and that I am not leading worship for several weeks.  It is this, already public, information (and rightly so) that promted me to post - what is going on and why?

The short story:

On Friday of this week, provided my blood pressure behaves (prayers and vibes for this very welcome) I will behaving fairly major gynaecological surgery to address some long term side effects of my cancer treatment that have failed to repsond to several less invasive procedures over the last four years.  This will mean several weeks off to convalesce and then I will return to work "a whole new woman".  Please be reassured that this is not new or recurrent cancer - all the tests undertaken prior to making this decision have been clear. 

For the next few weeks preaching at the Gathering Place will be in the very capable hands of some long term friends of ours, a ministerial couple M & L, and I look forward to listening to their services online. 

I won't be posting lots of updates on my progress as there will be next to nothing to tell - but I will be around and will be back online a week or so post-op.  I know that some readers know my family in real life, so this a plea from the heart (and a huge risk in sticking this online where anyone can see it)... I have not told my elderly mother about this surgery as she had major health issues and a level of confusion which mean that such knowledge could be damaging to her wellbeing... in fact, the only family members I have told so far are my sister and an aunt.  So if you do know my folks, or if you know folks who know my folks, please be careful.

The long story (for those who are interested in Tamoxifen and its rare side effects)

Tamoxifen is a wonderful drug, and so far has kept me free of breast cancer for almost five years, with a plan to continue to with it for a further five.  For a 'high risk' patient this is important and, in my view, the benefits outweigh the dififculties.

Any drug comes with a side effects list, and most people don't experience any of them.  I am just in that tiny weeny minority who work their way down the list for Tamoxifen, missing any that would make it unsafe and 'selecting' those that are a flipping nuisance.  So I've learned to live with chronic joint pain, hot flushes and the "very large floaters" and "disco eyeball" (as another similarly affected friend puts it) left by posterior vitreous detachment.  And then there are the gynaecological effects... as many readers are male and as it's not very edifying to describe in detail, we'll go with the technical bare facts!  I have had repeated episodes of what is technically termed post-menopausal blessing bleeding (PMB) due to Tamoxifen induced endometrial hyperplasia.  Three times this has been treated by hysteroscopy and polypectomy (each time biopsy confirmed this as benign) on the third occasion having a progesterone releasing prothesis implanted (with the approval of my breast team) in an attempt to prevent recurrence.  Alas this didn't work out for me, in fact it made things worse, and in December I was advised that the only remaining option is a total abdominal hysterectomy (TAH) and, due to my inherently increased risk of gynaecological cancers, bilateral salpingo-oopherectomy (BSO).  I have to confess I love a word with three 'o' together in the middle, it lends a suitable air of nonsense to the whole enterprise!

I cannot stress strongly enough that this is a rare effect of Tamoxifen.  I also cannot stress strongly enough my view that taking Tamoxifen is worth the risk of such effects.  My clincher for my decision to have surgery was the realisation that living with bleeding, anaemia and lethargy for another five years is just not viable.  Hopefully in a few weeks I really will be "a whole new woman".

So there you have it... please don't be concerned, this is standard surgery that loads of women have every day and are glad they do.  Again, this is hidden in plain sight, so it you do know any of my folks, please don't start talking about it.  And if you "do' prayers then please pray for M & L as they prepare to lead our services, for skills for the doctors... and, selfishly, that my BP behaves!!

Moses - victim of genocide, adopted prince, murderer, runway, resident alien, husband, father, shepherd, man who enouncountered God, challenger of authority, leader of a new nation, law-giver, man who lived a very long life yet never attained his final goal...

This morning I felt it was right to abandon my second attempt of the week and simply talk. Having written two sermons and done an impromtu reflection on the life of Moses on Friday I had the ideas more fully cemented on my mind than usual, which made it possible.  When I opened my mouth, I had no definite trajectory, just a sense of how long I could speak for and a some thoughts I considered worth sharing.

It went remarkably well, with lots of positive feeback.  More importantly, it felt like the 'right' thing to do, the nudge or shove of God's Spirit which, when that is the motivator, means it'll be alright.  Hopefully it offered hope and encouragement as well as recognising that adventures with God are often not chosen, not exotic, largely unobserved and sometimes down right difficult.

It felt like a good morning and the place was pretty much full.  So now, I'm chilling at home and feeling very blessed.

The latest edition of the BUGB magazine focusses on the concept of Covenant and includes contributions from a wide range of writers.  I was invited to share some thoughts, and today I received my complimentary copy of the magazine.  You can read the whole magazine online here (though if you follow this link a year from now it will take you to a different edition!),  You may agree or disagree with what I, or anyone else, wrote but I reckon it's worth a read.

The various Baptist Unions in these islands face many challenges, and there is a lot of mumbling and grumbling that I seem to hear.  For all their faults and foibles, these are bodies of people doing their best to serve the churches and live out their faith.  We don't make covenants for when the sun shines - we make them for when it rains.  If it seems that the assorted BUs are going through stormy times, then now is the very time that covenant matters.

Yesterday's post included a typo (now corrected) that led to the story of an event in Dibley in 2004 being reported as occuring in 2014... which prompted a very lovely email from one of my friends there, who, perfectly reasonably, read it as history repeating itself - it's not.

To clarify, the gas at the Gathering Place is totally safe (we've had some interesting breakdowns these past seven winters but it's all fine and legal) and the building is not about to be closed.  No funerals in December either.  The building is still functional and open.

2016 could lead to major changes concerning our building which are very exciting, and challenging, but will not be forced by dangers to ourselves or others from our current operations.

Sorry for the confusion caused!  There are connections, and there will be inspections, but the story, whilst having parallels, is very different.

Note to self - proof, proof, proof.... and only then print!

Twelve years ago, I was a Newly Acredited Minsiter (NAM) finding her feet in her first full time pastorate, convinced of God's calling but not having a clue what it actually meant, as I sat in my office in my quaint manse in the place I came to refer to as Dibley.

Eleven years ago, I was preparing a service to be delivered in a borrowed room (I think the local Methodist church but the memory has long since faded) on a Sunday afternoon following the sudden closure of the chapel where this congregation had worshipped since the mid 1870s. 

Yesterday I recalled the events of the gas inspection that triggered the immediate need to close the premises, the grace of the inspector who 'bent' the rules to allow a funeral to go ahead (and the comedic "it shouldn't happen to a vicar" nature of that funeral) and the generosity of the Anglican church who hosted our Christmas 2004 services at zero notice.  In January 2005 I preached a sermon on 'adventuring with God' based on the life of Moses.  It was a half decent sermon, so I discovered when I dug it out from the archives of my service collection!

At the start of 2016, things are looking hopeful, if decidedly challenging, for the Gatherers, as long awaited and tenantiously pursued possibiltities might become reality.  And then real life gets in the way, as it it is wont to do.  Before Christmas, I had decided to revist the theme of 'adventuring with God' and yesterday wrote a sermon based quite heavily on what I said back in 2005.  What I wrote is, I think, fine.  But it doesn't feel quite right.

Not just because this is a different time and a different place, but because it felt it lacked a certain vitality.  The content is there, but it needs to be written again, and I think I know how to do that.

If we had the time, what I'd love to do would to sit sit down and share stories... the adventures we have been part of in which, if only retrospectiviely, we identify God's participation.

As the next stage in our journey continues, as January 2016 begins to unfold, as hopes morph into reality, the one thing that is certain is that God is present in it all, and there are always connections to be found or made.

Perhaps I should end this post with the story of the gracious gas inspector...

It was Friday 17th December 2004, and I had a funeral around lunchtime.  Electricians were installing emergency lighting and much needed earthing to our premises, and a gas inspector was systematically working his way through the building.  An illegal capping off here, a dodgy connection there, a dangerous installation somewhere else... it wasn't looking good.  And then the pressure drop from meter to final exit point that suggested leak or leaks and the the need to close the premises now, this minute.

I stood there listening, as he told me the news.  "You have a funeral later on don't you?" he asked.  I nodded.  I can't recall his exact words but they ran roughly thus, "I will go back to the office and re-check my calculations, which I have to report to my boss.  It won't change anything, and I will be in trouble no doubt.  On Monday I will call you with the results."

It wasn't a foolish call - the place was no more likely to blow up than before his inspection, but he could not do otherwsie than condemn the gas system which meant closing the building.

Afternoon came and the funeral took place... the cortege arriving late becuase the family had needed to round up and kennel their dogs when the FD arrived to collect them.  The coffin would not go through the door from the porch and had to be man-handled along the side of the building, in the back door, up two lots of steps, past the electricians (who showed incredible respect, stopping work and bowing their heads) before we got it into the church.  The family had asked for Procul Harem's 'Whiter Shade of Pale" to be played... we'd heard it seven times through by the time we began the service, a further five at the end... I used to like it, but now...  A burial on a cold December afternoon, but at least it was dry.

On the Sunday morning, after an emergency Deacon's meeting we told the church, before proceeding with the nativity, and then the evening carol service (carols without candlelight).  On Monday the gas sytem was condemed and the building closed, to re-open only once, six months later, after the gas supply had been isolated at the mains, and then for a 'farewell service'.

The grace of the gas-man.  The generosity of the Anglicans.  The hospitality of the Methodists.  The welcome of the primary school... there were/are all signs of God's sharing in an adventure we'd never have chosen, but which became part of a bigger, more wonderful story.