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!
Today is All Souls Day, on which some Christian traditions pause to call to mind "the faithful departed". Whatever our faith or none, there is something intrinsically good about pausing to remember, with gratitude, those we have loved and lost, to grieve where we need to grieve, and to discover new strength and new hope for our own continuing lives.
A poemy/non-religious prayery/meditationy thingy by me...
Take a moment Light a candle Plant a flower bulb Shed a tear Laugh out loud Rage against injustice Be Do Whatever you need to be or to do Only remember Re-member Put back together, if for a fleeting moment And then Honour those who have gone before By living By loving By laughing A little more intentionally Today And every day
Today in a social media group of which I am part, someone, who describes themself as non-religious, asked me if I could share a nice prayer for those who were struggling.
My first thought was, wow, what a lovely thing to be asked.
My second thought was, yikes, what a challenging thing to be asked.
My third thoughts was, this is pure privilege, the kind of thing that minister type people dream of...
So I wrote a 'non-religious' prayer, addressing God as 'Eternal Love' and recognising the circumstances in which group members find themselves. I hope it scratched where people were itching, and that it brings comfort and hope to those who need it.
Today has been spent, for the most part, sorting stuff in my office at church in preparation for the big move to my home office on Wednesday. It's not all done yet, but I made some good inroads, and had some fun along the way. Among my many discoveries were these two rather fine (and somewhat rusty) boxes, which brought a smile to my face. As we plan to pack up and move out for a bit, it seems out forebears were ahead of us with these tin trunks!
It has also been a day of circulating inventories and phoning charities and boxing up stuff to be passed on... from cups and plates, via card, chalks and crayons, to part burned candles (yes, really!). It's been great fun - in a way that perhaps only I can count as fun; being able to be generous to others, mostly locally but in some cases nationally, is a real privilege.
Tomorrow I have more sorting to do before, and probably after, a training (half-)day but hopefully all will be just about there in time for Wednesday morning when the packers and the van arrive!
I love the metal boxes into which we can, if we wish, pack the essentials of church and carry them with us, Ark of Covenant style, during our tabernacling phase.
And now, after a long, happy day, it's time to stop before I flop!!
Gazing on God's Glory - a nice alliterative title for an Assembly.
Overall, it was a good Assembly, not great, in so far as I didn't leave with new ideas or new energy, but certainly not any less than good, because the content was good and the atmosphere generous and gracious (see, I can do alliteration with 'g' too!)
The photo above is the view over the car park outside the hotel where I stayed which was, as you can just make out, next to the bus station.
A lot of speakers spoke about glimsping God in the every day (see, hardly a new idea, even if a good reminder).
I had looked out of the window and snapped a photo of the last vestiges of the sunrise, then thought, no, it's down I need to look... if I claim I know that God's glory is glimpsed here on the 'plain' every bit as on the 'mountain' then that's what I should photograph.
And I deliberately chose to include the double decker bus that was just setting out on its route, as the song flooded my mind, "What if God was one of us, just a stranger on the bus..."
Again, nothing new there, it's a song I've known for years that expresses ideas I've pondered almost as long
So where did I glimpse God's glory - not sure I can honestly claimed to have done much gazing - in Glenrothes?
In the taxi driver who picked me up at Markinch railway station and made conversation about the (cold, grey, drizzly) weather
In the stewards in bright yellow poloshirts and wafting oversized red foam hands, who smiled and joshed as they directed delegates.
In the catering staff of Rothes Halls who served tea and coffee at intervals, and a range of hot and cold food in the cafe at meal times - and especially in the one or two I managed to engage in chit chat.
In the man in the mobility scooter who had come in to use the toilets only to discover he couldn't get in as he needed a speical fob from reception - so I went and got him one.
In the young man who took my breakfast order and the hotel recptionist who checked me in.
In a bowl of piping hot soup and in a ridiculously sweet doughnut
In the stillness of a near deserted car park as I walked back to my hotel at night, and in the silver-grey of morning as I reversed the journey to the Assembly
In the beauty of the bridges over the Forth and the east coast towards Fife.
In the majesty of the Kelpies and in the colours of autmn leaves
In songs I actively disliked (go figure!) and moments when I felt fully alive
In the overload of my senses in the main event, and in the quiet moments sought out to be alone
I learned nothing new. I heard nothing that disturbed my complacency, on the whole it affirmed my reality. And all of that is utterly fine because sometimes what is needed is not new ideas or new inspiration, sometimes what is needed is the 'still, small voice', the 'sound of silence', in which God embraces our ordinariness and declares it good.
The next couple of weeks are going to be utterly manic, in a good way, and for good reasons, and it is hard to explain how glad it makes me to have health and strength sufficient for that reality. I hope, that in the craziness of it all, I will still catch glimpses of God's glory in the people I meet, the environment we share and the things we do.
