This week I have been at two funerals in an official, but non-leading capacity.

They could not have been more different, and yet they raised, once again, huge questions about what we are doing, why we are doing it and who we think we are serving by doing it.

The first funeral was attended by around two dozen folk, neighbours, friends and church folk, who had waited two months for the service to take place.  What struck me most was the significance of the conversations afterwards (there was no 'afterwards for refreshments') as we stood in the car park and share funny stories about the deceased, each discovering whole tranches of the story that were new to us.  I reminded me, were any reminder needed of two things...

• the need to allow space in the service, even if it's just a minute or so, for personal remembering
• the importance of the 'afterwards' and its informal opportuity to share the stories.

I endeavour to include/mention each of these when I lead a funeral.

The second funeral was attended by around 60 - 70 folk, I'd guess, many of whom had travelled significant distances to say farewell to a relative.   The person I'd gone to support commented that "he would have loved it" - and that always seems an important, if not over-arching, factor.  The personalisation of funerals, within reason, is something to which I always aspire.

Within reason? Yes, I think so.  People ask me to lead funerals knowing who and what I am, and I have never had anyone decline once I mentioned Bible readings or prayers. Funerals have an important pastoral role, which includes a measure of dignity and decorum, sobriety and sensitivity.

Over the years, I have conducted funerals for people aged 'less than zero' to 103, in packed congregations and when no mourners were expected.  I've shared detailed tributes and I've had to acknowledge that I never met the deceased but they were 'known unto God'.  I have been in countless chapels, churches and crematoria, have buried and scattered ashes, blessed new graves and replacement gravestones.  I've stepped in when the celebrant couldn't cope and stepped up when no celebrant had been planned. I say this not as a boast - for what is there about which to boast? I say it as recognising that funerals are hugely important, and that getting it right - or as right as we can - matters.

If, at the end of the day, we have enbaled people to remember with gratitude someone they have known and loved, if I have been able to offer some words of comfort and hope,  if we can go away thinking, 's/he would have liked that', then we've got something right.

RIP R and C whose funerals were this week, safe in the love of God.  

Recently, I have been keep busy knitting a cot blanket (and made reference to it here) which is now completed and today was posted off.  It's far from perfect, not least because the 'squares' refused to be effectively 'blocked' instead springing back to their 'leaf' shape.

Sewing up took a long time - 48 squares and an all-in-one border in a contrasting colour.  That alone made for 98 loose ends, and a lot of work to sew them in (or in a few cases some tight knotting).

Sewing in - or maybe tying up - loose ends always takes a long time, and is one of the most important phases of any knitting project.  I guess in some sense that's a metaphor for any project we may undertake - there are plenty of 'big' pits that bring quick results, but there are fiddly little bits that no-one will see, without which the end result isn't possible.

In due course this blanket will enjoyed, and will no doubt become misshapen and stained over time.  But then that's the whole point - it's meant to be used.  That's a bit like any other project too!

I wonder what it is that stirs memories for you? Smells, tastes, sounds that take you back, instantly to another place and time?

Yesterday at my Ignatian course, a piece of music was used that instantly took me back to service held in Roman Catholic churches, and although I can't be 100% sure which was the first one where I heard/sang it, it was one of those heart-piercing moments of pain-and-joy-and-remembering all mixed together.

I love this song very much, it makes me sad and it makes me glad, and both in a good way...

Yesterday I joined with several folk from church at the home of our oldest, and longest served, Church member as she celebrated her 100th birthday.  It was a happy afternoon, full of love and laughter, cake and conversation.

L has been part of our church since childhood, and has been very active in so many spheres... one of the first 'women deacons-by-any-other-name', she most recently - and until only a couple of years ago - was head of the pastoral team.  She is always smiling, always positive, always grateful.  She always has good questions to ask and enquires about those she misses now she no longer sees them.  She is a great encourager and great host.

It was lovely to share with her on her special day - and I hope that she enjoyed it as much (and hopefully more) as we all did.

Happy Birthday L, may God bless you and your family in celebrating, sharing and making memories.

Today was one of the full day sessions of the Ignatian  course, and the focus was on 'The Call of the King' - thinking about the Christ who calls us to follow.

The morning was a time of reflection on the first ten chapters of the gospel of Mark, and the photo is the  doodle thingy that emerged from so-doing. 

I was drawn to a question that ran along the lines of 'what do you learn about Jesus - and God - from what he does and how he does it' rather than what he says.

I seemed to detect three threads (I'm sure with more time I'd have found more)...

• a compassionate, kind Jesus who engages with broken people at a one-to-one level
• an irritable Jesus who gets annoyed with his followers when they don't 'get' it
• a very demanding Jesus who insists on being No. 1 in the lives, hearts and minds of his followers - Kingdom before kin, Cross before comfort.

I then wondered how these weave together to give a 'thicker' description of Jesus, or a richer understanding of who he was/is.

Some of the scribbles on my doodle relate not to this exploration, but arise from the reflection I've undertaken ahead of overview sermon on Mark tomorrow.

Much to mull over from the day, but for now it's feet up with knitting and kitties!