This morning, in pouring rain, we gathered to dedicate the gravestone of a family connected to our church for whom there are no surviving relatives.

I shamelessly stole words and actions from Roman Catholic and Jewish rites/rituals to create a liturgy.

We laid some beautiful flowers and then, borrowing from Jewish tradition had the opportunity to lay pebbles of remembrance.

I'd researched this custom, which is rich in symbolism... the Hebrew word for 'pebble' also means 'bond' - pledge, promise, and also securing, binding.  The significance of the laying of pebbles is therefore twofold... a prayer for the departed to be 'bound in the bond of eternal life' and a pledge to remember them, to keep their memory alive.

In Jewish thought, flowers, though beautiful, must fade, but pebbles (and grave markers) have a sense of permanence.  Perhaps in laying both, we held together profound truths - that earthly life is beautiful and timebound, that our loved ones are safe and secure in the love of God and the promise of eternal life, and that we choose to keep alive the memory of those who have gone before us.

Nishmatah tzrurah bitzror hahaim

‘May [your]* souls be bound up in the bond of eternal life

May the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and give you peace, now and always Amen

Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and let perperual light shine upon them, may they rest in peace.

* The Hebrew is feminine (her), but I liberally translated it as 'your' plural... after all the female can include the male, and the singular the plural...

Between now and this time next week, I have undertaken to prepare some material for a house-group on "Constructing a Sermon/Reflection'... I have plenty of ideas, and plenty of notes (somewhere) from the endless repetitions of workshops/courses I've done down the years, but it seemed good to go back to some books... so I've set myself the challenge of reading at least part of each of these - plus another one I recalled after I'd taken the photo - and then producing something fresh, interesting and helpful.

And in between times, to write this Sunday's sermon!!

This morning I'm researching liturgies to adapt for a gravestone dedication service that I'll be doing tomorrow.  We chose the date purely by convenience - but of course tomorrow is All Saints Day, the day after All Souls.  Which is remarkably apposite. Hmm.

I am loving both the Jewish and Roman Catholic liturgies I'm reading through, as well as some other websites that talk of annual, community ceremonies among Roman Catholics in Ireland.

Our purpose is largely pastoral - someone with no surviving relatives, and for whom, along with the other members of her family buried there, we arranged for a new headstone to be made.

Not your everyday Baptist kind of a thing, certainly not one they teach you at 'vicar school', but nonetheless one that feels right, and the timing of which generates a gentle 'hmm'!

Seven years ago I bought this red duffle coat in BHS in Coventry on the way back to Glasgow having visited my Mum soon after my cancer diagnosis.  It was an act of defiant self-indulgence at a time of incredible fear.

Today it gets its first outing of this season.  It's pretty shabby.  The cat hair refused to be brushed or picked off, the fabric is 'pilled' but I don't let that worry me... this is my symbol, my way of celebrating life, as well as remembering others less fortunate I've met along the way.

BHS is long gone.  I no longer have cause to travel via Coventry.  But I do have many blessings to count, and more defiance to express!

Yesterday evening was the annual service of 'Grieving and Gratitude' at one of our Church of Scotland neighbours, and in which I have participated since I arrived in Glasgow.

At the moment, there are very few ministers in our C of S parish grouping, so last night was both special and poignant... one full time C of S, one non-stipendiary C of S, and one Baptist, in a service planned by email and with minimal contact.  Built (loosely) on the Kubbler-Ross 'stages of grief' model, each of us was allocated one or two themes to work with.

Firstly, one of my colleagues shared the story of his mother's death, when he was just 15 years old, and how significant it had been in shaping his life and faith.  It was powerful, moving, profound and gentle.

Next, I had been given "anger and bargaining" (thanks guys!).  After normalising the reality that anyone may or may not experience either of these, and that all experiences are equally valid, I reflected as best I could on the 'why' and 'what if' and 'if only' questions that may arise, and the scary emotions that may be experienced, with words from Psalm 22 and 139.

Lastly, my other colleague used the story of Lazarus, a story of a couple adjusting to the birth of a child with cerebral palsy, and some lines from a poem to reassure us that in it all God is present, and that there is no obvious timetable, rather that in God's time, with God's help, we'll find our way through.

Three very different approaches, and yet, somehow it flowed together as a piece.

Lighting candles to remember, listening to music, singing, praying... stilllness and openness... and through it all, hope.