I am not quite sure how we got to November already, or how I have managed to pack so much into this year both personally and church-wise.  I did, a few days ago, pause long enough to be very grateful that the challenges this year has brought were this year, not last year, as I would not have had the stamina or strength to face them at that stage.  From major surgery in January, to settling Mum in a care home, to working with others to clear, sort and pack up our church, as well as all the run of the mill stuff, it has been a busy time!

Anyway, tomorrow I will setting off for two weeks of relaxing holiday in Tenerife, along with a friend of more than thirty years.  The photo shows the ubiquitous feline response to packing... maybe I'd be better to take them and leave the clothes behind!

It will be very strange not leading worship for Remembrance, but I know that the Gatherers will be in good hands.  It is not ideal to be away for two Sundays just before 'move out Sunday' but the Gatherers are, so far as I can ascertain, in good heart.

For now, it's a case of backing up my laptop (which is quite noisy this morning!) ensuring the last few practical and pastoral responsibilties are completed and finishing up the packing.  Some work on services and newsletters still to be done (airport lounges maybe!) but getting there,

Sophie and Sasha will be guarding my home, ably asssisted by Auntie J and Auntie F, so would-be burglars beware!!!

Back in a couple of weeks but probably no blogging til then.

Yesterday evening was the annual service of grieving and gratitude, in which people are invited to recall and reflect upon those they have love and lost, find comfort and hope and continue onwards.  Here are the two poems we used in that context...

The Seasons of Grief

Tom Gordon

Every stage of grief has its season,

And every facet of loss has its time.

A time for disbelief, and a time for harsh reality.

A time to know, and a time to be consumed by unknowing.

A of clarity, and a time of uncertainty.

A time for public smiles, and a time for private tears.

A time to be thankful, and a time of regret.

A time of giving up, and a time for going on.

A time of living half a life, and a time of wanting to live again.

A time of then, and a time of now.

A time to feel hopeless, and a time to be positive.

A time of looking forward, and a time of wanting life to end.

A time of faith, and a time of doubt.

A time for holding on, and a time for letting go.

A time when steps are light, and a time when limbs are tired.

A time of hazy memories, and a time of instant recall.

A time for living with death, and a time for living with life.

A time of fruitlessness, and a time of growth.

A time of despair, and a time of purpose.

A time of emptiness, and a time of hope.

A time for rage, and a time for peace.

‘Don’t Tell Me that I Mourn Too Much’

Michael Rosen

Don’t tell me that I mourn too much

And I won’t tell you that you mourn too much

Don’t tell me that I mourn too little

And I won’t tell you that you mourn too little

Don’t tell me that I mourn in the wrong place

And I won’t tell you that you mourn in the wrong place

Don’t tell me that I mourn at the wrong time

And I won’t tell you that you mourn at the wrong time

Don’t tell me that I mourn in the wrong way

And I won’t tell you that you mourn in the wrong way

I may get it wrong, I will get it wrong, I’ve got it wrong

But don’t tell me.

The table after the last morning service communion to be held in this place since 1883... at least until we return in a couple of years time.

This morning we began a month of 'lasts' as we prepare to vacate our premises at the end of the month so that they can be (DV - or at least city council planning department willing, whichever is the more significant) redeveloped into a fantastic new facility to serve us, and those who follow us, into the next 130+ years of life at the Gathering Place.

We wove together our normal Sunday worship with a Special Church Meeting in which we authorised those who serve as Charity Trustees to sign necessary legal paperwork just as soon as it is finalised. We also expressed thanks to our longest served Member as she retired from leading our Pastoral Team... a woman whose family were among the earliest worshippers here.  And then we shared Communion... our battered wooden table clothed in white linen and laden with significant symbols... words I'd written specially, and words of scripture... we ate, we drank, we remembered... and we moved forward.

It was, for me, and I think for others, a significant moment... perhaps that's why spontaneous applause rang out after the ballot was announced... perhaps that's why I observed a few folk shed a tear, and even became momentarily choked myself... it is certainly why I decided on the spur of the moment that we'd end by singing the doxology together.

The first of the lasts... The next two Sundays I am away on leave and the "pulpit" will be filled by loved and trusted friends of this congregation before I am back for the very last Sunday in the 'old' place.

As we sang at the end of the service, "it's from the old we travel to the new, keep me travelling along with you".

A chapter concludes, but the story continues... 

This morning a large group of us met together at church to sort and pack, clear and shift, declutter and dejunk as much stuff as we could.  Named by me as "Team Sparklers" in honour of Guy Fawkes Night, this team really shone as they worked tirelessly and cheerfully to completely clear several rooms, and make huge in-roads into others.

After a good couple of hours hard work, we shared a lunch of chip-shop chips, steaming mugs of tea and assorted sweet treats.

The air rang with laughter, memories were made and shared, treasures were uncovered, bizarre objects rehomed or recycled, oodles of items packed up to be passed to other churches, community groups and charities... and a good time was had by all.

Our resident bard wrote us a poem - and the photo shows the majority of the Team enjoying hearing it read.

I came home a tired and happy 'minister type person' feeling that we'd done really well.  Brother Lawrence (Practice of the Presence of God) spoke of the worship he offered in omelette making.  I think we offered worship in what we did, and glimpsed something of God in each other, and above all were church.

I'd like to think that God enjoyed our endeavours - I certainly did!