I'm on a slow sort of wind down from work ahead of a week of leave beginning on Saturday.

It starts with the wedding of one of my oldest friends, at which I've been asked to read a poem and to be a witness.  This is a civil ceremony, so it will feel a bit odd not having any overt 'God' in it, but I am sure it will be very special.

I then travel to Bangor, Wales, for an overnight before going on to Ynys Mon (Anglesey) for a five day retreat during which I am looking forward to switching off my phones, not using the internet, not watching the news and instead reading, maybe colouring, walking and above all resting. 

All of which means silence in Blogland probably from now until a couple of days after I am home again.  Panic not, then at the absence of waffle, and promise I will maximise the benefit of some 'me time'.

This mysterious and ethereal image is just one of a whole range of paintings being exhibited at the chapel of the Univerty of Glasgow until 27th October.

The flyer expresses it thus:

After leading chapel prayers this morning (on an especially unpromising reading!) I spent a little while wandering around the exhibition drinking in the joy, sorrow, mystery, majesty and creativity of these women from across the world.

If you happen to be close enough to visit, I'd strongly recommend it.

This morning, we arrived at the hotel to discover it was pretty full of people at a conference - turned out they were international doctoral students on some kind of residential thingy - and knowing that we had to be out pronto sharpish to allow 'our' room to be used for a wedding.

Despite having announced an earlier start time last week, it was inevitable that some folk would come for 11 a.m., and sure enough they did, arriving in dribs and drabs over a twenty minute period.  It was all rather chaotic but all very relaxed and everyone just took it in their collective stride.

At the end of the service, I was able to give Bibles to some folk newly arrived in the UK in their first language - the look of pure joy on their faces was a delight to behold, and over coffee I could see them peeping at the first few pages, excited to hold such a precious book in their own hands.  Sobering and humbling.

After coffee some of us took these folk for lunch - pizza and coke/sprite/orange - simple fare shared among people who between us represented a number of nationalities, and none of that mattered a jot.

This is ministry at its best - muddled, chaotic, characterised by love and laughter and somewhere in the midst of it all our newly arrived folk found peace, security and welcome.

A good morning.

Today, nine days after it was installed, my shiny new oven is working.  The fitters connected it all up, went to demonstrate it to me - and nothing happened.  They checked there was power reaching it - there was - shrugged their shoulders and left.

Today, the first available slot arose for a repair man to come out... in under ten minutes he had identified and rectified the problem - a loose wire that he says was visibly not connected...

So now I have a fully functional kitchen once more, with just some tidying and cosmetic work still to be done.

And a reminder that details matter, and small things make a big difference - which is pretty much what Operation Agri want me to say on Sunday!

I'll be honest, although I've known about this date for many years, and have seen posts about it, it's never been one that prompeted me to respond.  Not because I thought it was unimportant - it self-evidently is.  Not because I don't know people who live with mental health conditions - I know plenty.  But because, if I'm honest, it never crawled high enough up my personal list of priorities.

A couple of things have changed that. 

The first has been comments by a small number of people that I should be grateful to have had a physical health condition that people care about, because for people with mental health conditions, it can feel as if no-one cares.  That was quite salutory.

The second was the responses I've had, in life and online, since, back in the spring, I outed myself as taking anti-depressants to help with my menopausal mood changes... the Menopausal Monster who was always angry and hated herself.  I even led an evening service looking at mental health, which seemed to be very well received.

To complicate matters, and as illustrated by my own experience, traumatic life events and stress can trigger or exacerbate mental health conditions, or at least lead to a degree of mental unwellness.  Oodles of cancer patients develop depression; oodles of people with depression get cancer - the two shouldn't be set in opposition by anyone.  Better to recognise the reality that for some people one or other will emerge as more significant.  And it's probably fair to say that people with cancer have more emotional energy to 'shout' their cause than those whose mental wellbeing is affected.

I'd like to think that my, very limited, personal experience, and the relationships I've formed with others whose conditions are chronic and/or incurable have helped me to be more compassionate and understanding.