So, I did it!  I gathered up all the 'new with tags' and 'never played with' teddies and packed them into bags ready to be sent off to charity, where they can bring smiles and laughter to small people, or hear the secrets of children and adults, or generally just be loved.

Over the years they have sat on my spare bed or on top of the wardrobe looking down on me, they have brought me lots of pleasure, but now it is time to say 'farewell' to them and send them off to new lives.

I've also contacted Tools With A Mission to collect my old sewing machine and some computer peripherals, and gone so far as to list my E-piano on Ebay (pointless it gathering dust on my living room when someone could enjoy playing it).

This clearing out exercise continues to be healthy and helpful - and if nothing else will free up space in my over-stuffed flat!!

So, bears (and other cuddlies):

Go ye into Charitable Purposes, bringing smiles and cuddles to children and, behold, their love will make you very real, even to the end of time. (with apologies to JC according to Matthew.)

I am privileged to have in my congregation someone who is a living legend. Wherever you go in Glasgow, people will speak of "Miss Allan's Meeting" which has, in various forms and in different locations run for longer than I have been alive!!

Today is her 99th birthday. She plans to wear her red cardi (I have on a red blouse in her honour, hope she'll forgive me that it's not a clerical shirt!) and is looking forward to cake.

This afternoon, I will be there at FF, the latest incarnation of the meeting, privileged to be sharing with some of the 'least of these' whom she has loved and encouraged for more than half a century. Then I'll call by to spend a few minutes with her on this auspicious day.

This song from Celtic Connections was used at the service last Sunday evening, and is well worth listening to.

I could, on reflection, have chosen to use it this Sunday, as something 'creative', but I remembered it only after I had written my own first draft (which I won't be singing!).  Small spoiler alert: not a traditional sermon this week!

A long time ago now, I wrote a piece of theological reflection on the topic of theological reflection and chose to use as metaphors assorted images from the world of optics and vision.  It seemed to appeal to the person who marked it, sparking her own suggestions of additional metaphors.

The title of my essay was Seigel in Speigel - the mirror in the mirror - and I pondered the idea of the inifinity of reflections that arise between two parallal mirrors.

At one level this is quite a healthy and helpful image, because it's a reminder that reflection is never a finished product, that there are always more reflections being formed (or capable of being formed).

At another level, it's a troubling image, because it recongises the potential for over-reflection, of potentially becoming trapped between the mirrors, endlessly watching the reflections increase in number, maybe without ever quite seeing whatever it was that was sought, and unable to let go and move on.

Over the last couple of days, topics such as reflection, self-awareness and personality have all been signfiicant in important conversations, and that's been good.  It has also given me a huge amount to think about in relation to myself, especially how I see, or feel about, myself and how others perceive me. I think the swan image is helpful - seemingly 'together' and gliding along (not sure I actually glide but never mind) whilst underneath the feet are paddling hard... All my life some people have assumed that I am confident because I am competent, whilst the inner story is that my lack of confidence leaves me constantly questioning my competence.  This makes me wonder how inaccurately I read other people based on my own inaccurate, biased or even 'projected' perceptions.

Hmm, lots to ponder - but I'll try not to 'over-reflect' :-)

Events of the last week have left me increasingly lost for words, yet, I am regularly reminded that saying nothing isn't an option because it tends to be seen as at best indifference and at worst collusion or endorsement.

It seems to me - maybe wrongly - that nothing I can say adds to what has already been said about actions of the US President or (the inactions of) the UK Prime Minister.  It's a statement of the beeping obvious that this is wrong, unjust, inhuman, stupid... but if I don't speak it out loud, am I somehow complicit?

The photo above is one I am currently using on social media.  This morning I added a 'Jude' star to it.  It's no secret that I am, by bloodline, 25% Jewish, that under the Nazi regime I would have been an ideal guineapig for medical experiments (had I ever been born - my 100% Jewish grandmother and 50% Jewish mother would probably have been exterminated).  Back in the 19th century, my Dutch (and Spanish?) Jewish forebears arrived in Britain, a place of comparative safety.  At the start of WWII, my grandfather moved his entire family from rural Buckinghamshire to Glasgow because he feared for their safety if Hitler invaded.  I expect, whatever our own racial or religious heritage, most of us have refugees or marginalised people in our family trees who have left their homes and sought shelter elsewhere.

To say nothing, is not an option.  To say something is essential, even if we don't quite know what to say.

Over the last 24 hours I have "liked and shared" and I have "tweeted"; I have signed petitions; I have prayed; I have felt impotent and incompetent, but I cannot not do something, I cannot not say something.

So, two little bits of stuff to ponder!  Firstly, what I wrote on my social media post when I added this photo...

I am Christian

I am Jewish

I am white

I am British (English)

I am woman

Above all, I am a human-being

And then, far more eloquent and timeless, the famous words of Pastor Martin Niemoller

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.