It's no secret that I'm not a great one for place attachment.  Almost every significant building in my life has been demolished or compeletly redesigned.  Places I walked have been buried under housing estates.  Recently I discovered that the church building where I was baptised and ordained is about to be sold - no doubt it will be demolished (it's not a nice building!!).  And so on, and so forth.

At the same time, I am very aware that for other people buildings and places carry huge signficance.  In this place all the major milestones of their lives were marked.  Here they went to school; there they met their life-partner... so I am always careful not to let my experiences undermine the authentic attachments of others.

It was a bit of surprise, then, last Sunday when I was spending some time alone in the Gathering Place, taking photos of noticeboards and other random, mundane things, that a memory floated up from my subconscious dating back to 16th September 2010!

A beautiful sunny day... a Thursday... and a day when, 24 days (I just counted!) after my cancer diagnosis, and the ensuing rush of appointments and tests and goodness knows what, I had a gift of a day to draw breath.  A day in which I went into the hall and span (spun?, not sure of correct form!) myself round and round like a child until I was dizzy. 

I realised that, for me, this place carries part of my story too - my major life events.  Not in the once beautiful sanctuary, but in the tired, red lino of the hall; not only in the public and wonderful, such as my induction, but in the private and poignant, such as that day in 2010.

Perhaps it's ironic that the hospital where I was diagnosed is no more... perhaps it is the story of my life that places where my signficant moments exist only in my imperfect memory.

Today, I will be travelling north to stay in a real live castle, and to conduct a marriage ceremony for a young couple.  One day they will look back and recall that place, that day... one day, too, this place will be part of my story and, mysteriously, I part of its.

So, I made a decision not to go to the meeting this evening... after all I'd already done (and it has been pretty much nonstop for ten hours) I decided enough was enough, that my presence wasn't critical or even necessary, but that other things, including rest, were.

And it felt good, freeing even, to make that call, rather than heading out feeling cream crackered and probably tetchy as a result.

Still have some church-related stuff to look at before the day ends, but at least I won't be risking falling asleep on a train and ending up who knows where!!

Definitely a diverse day today.

I've just finalised and printed off the marriage service, so that all is ready for when I travel north tomorrow.  Always a privilege and a responsibility, always surprisingly demanding as well as delighting... always that slight edge of "have I got this right" about what I say.

In a couple of hours, I'll be setting out with two others to share communion in the home of another couple, whose marriage is an example of faithful outworking of the vows made by young people filled with hope.  The "old love" is wonderful to behold, the tenderness and affection, patience and practicality, all forged in the 'crucible' of life's experience.

After lunch it's time for my ocassional meeting with my Pastoral Supervisor - a precious and valuable space to reflect and refresh, rethink, regroup, relax... and there will be a few 'in town' tasks  to fit in too.

Then I need to tidy up the vestry enough that the cover preacher for Sunday can actually get in the door and sit down without tripping over piles of stationary, craft materials and other stuff I am in the process of sorting out.

And evening brings a short train ride to the south east of the city for a 'Mission Forum' meeting - a time of sharing and support with folk from other Baptist churches in this city.

Never dull - lots of variety and lots to stimulate the old grey matter along the way!!

One of my tasks over the coming weeks is to sort through the drawers and cupboards, shelves, stacks and stashes in my office at work, deciding what should be kept, what should be passed on and what should be binned/recycled.

As I sifted through the drawers of the filing cabinet that has served as my stationery stash/store for the last 20 years or so (eek!) I found a huge quantity of unused OHP slides - both the sort designed to go through printers and the sort that you used to write on.  I do have a few ideas for uses as crafts - but not enough to use them all up, and possibly not things that will ever actually come to pass.  So these will go into the 'rehome' or 'recycle' piles rather than 'retain'.

I also came across these:

It still only feels like yesterday that Woolworth's closed, and that I felt like some kind of low-life stocking up on bargain priced A4 pads, pens and pencils that (as you can see) I am still working my way through all these years later.  In the week that the final few BHS shops closed their doors, and another long-lived company went the way of all flesh, it's a reminder, were one needed, of the endless and relentless change that goes on around us all the time.

Decluttering will take a good while yet - and I am uncovering many good things as well as fair quantity of utter rubbish.  There will be some passing on of stuff to others, that's for sure, and then I can embark once more on a slightly more minimalist existence (stop rolling on the floor laughing...).

In between times, normal service continues!!

I've spent the last couple of days doing something which is a great privilege and responsibility, meeting with the Baptist Union of Scotland's Board of Ministry, to explore with three people their call to accredited Baptist ministry.  It was a good experience - at least for me - and I hope they left enoucouraged (if exhausted).

But none of that is the stuff of "hmmm"

The opening act of worship used the wonderful painting "Our Last Supper" (shown above) alongside Matthew 25 "I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink, naked and you fed me" and we were reminded that whatever we do or say to others, we do or say to Christ... wise and salutary words at the start of the process.

Last night, I had the privilege of leading evening prayers, and within that context had chosen part of Matthew 6: "Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?”  Cue spooky music!  Food... water... clothing... we shouldn't worry about these things because God will supply them...  And I couldn't help thinking that as these are supplied to us, so they are given to the Christ-in-us...

This morning, totally independently, the person leading prayers had also chosen Matthew 25, and offered some reflection from a book by David Adam called "The Cry of the Deer" from which some stories we told to illustrate this giving to Christ as we give to others... St Ninian (I think) and St Francis... and a man in a queue in a small post office store who paid for a bag of frozen chips.

So, good reminders of the profound mystery that not only does every human bear the image of Christ, they are in some measure, Christ to us... just as we are to others.

Thank you A and S for your prayers/devotions, and thank you for allowing me to offer something a little different by way of night prayer.