This week I really did have the final visit to Northampton - not that I can never return, obviously I am free to do so any time, but it really was the last time it had any direct family link with my childhood.  And I very consciously chose where I had my lunch or breakfast or tea, becuase each was knowingly a 'last'.

A last pot of tea in BHS cafe was a last in more ways than one, of course, because in a short time it will be no more, and never will be again.  A last trip to what was once the first branch of MacDonalds outside a major city in the UK!  A last coffee in the new Starbucks.  And one last lunch at Debenhams (photo above).

When Jesus knew that the end of his life was nearing, there seems to have been a week of meals at various homes, meals that would become permanently significant for those who were there.  "Do you remember..." they would say in later years, and the stirred memories would evoke something precious that time and distance could not destroy.  The "Last Supper" with it's "whenever you do this, remember me" is one such, in fact it is "The" one such, a meal shared precisely to evoke memories and retell stories of what it is that holds this extended family/community together.  Bread and wine; memory and mystery (and sacrament for those who must); old story, new story and continuing story; then and now and still to come.

As my train drew out of Northampton station, I found myself waving and saying (quietly) "bye, bye"... and then the tears fell.  Not many, I'm not a crying kind of a girl, but in that moment an era ended.  I have another post in mind that arises from that moment, and a photo I took form the window of the train, but for now, it is "final repasts" that occupy my thoughts.

Whenever you do this, remember me:

In broken bread and poured out wine -

Or pots of tea and strawberry flans -

Take a moment to pause

Deliberately call to mind this moment

And what it meant

Live the memory

Re-live the memory

Remember the meaning

Re-member the meaning

Because every time you do

You restore the moment,

Renew the promise

Recreate the meaning

Until the day when all things are made anew in God's Kindgom of Shalom.

I took this photo whilst visiting my Mum in the care home where she seems to be well settled, well cared for and the happiest I have known her in a very, very long time. When I looked at the photo I suddenly forgot all the hassle and heartache of the past few months, this was a moment to savour. Every mile travelled, every penny spent, every phone call, email, text, meeting... All worth it for this one moment.

Jesus once used the analogy of a woman giving birth and how, once she saw her child, she would forget the pain. I think I just about understand that now!

Sorry for extra dodgy typing... I am doing this on my snazzy phone!

This morning was, for me at least, a wonderful experience of church at its relaxed best.

The Sunday School - which is small and most children very young - really excelled, serving an absolutely marvellous spread including fresh fruit, juice, cereal, croissants, cinnamon buns, toast, tea, coffee....  They explained to us why they were holding the event, told us their target was £250 and led us in prayer.  They raised over £400... a marvellous achievement for a fairly small church.

Then we moved into the service, still around our tables.  We shared in a quiz about the history of Christian Aid.  We heard Rowan Williams (on video) explain why it matters to him.  We read some scripture communally.  We were reminded of the Christian Aid values.  We reflected and responded privately in words, drawings or thoughts to what we had read, sung, spoken and heard.  We prayed and took away pieces of woven jute to remind us the women of Bangladesh.  And we shared a very informal communion around small tables, serving each other.

At the end of the service we discovered that including the envelope collection, we had raised around £1200 for Christain Aid, which really is wonderful.

I expect everyone is needing a rest this afternoon - but we had a fantastic morning, and I am very proud of everyone who took part.

The above quiches, decidedly rustic, but I think acceptable, will be served this evening.  Somehow, though, they serve for me as a sort of parable or metaphor or something!

It's no secret that I like to have things well organised, in plenty of time, and that I can get more than a tad ratty if my plans don't work out.

I knew the week ahead was going to be decidedly bonkers, but I had it all worked out, transport booked, cat-sitting sorted, blah blah.

I also knew I had (have) guests coming for tea, and had decided to make a quiche for that purpose.  Cue disasters!  The first attempt at the case went in the oven for blind-baking and came out shrunken and flat.  No problem, I had more pastry, a second attmept was possible - deeper, thicker.... and it too came out less than ideal.  Meanwhile, I had prepped all the ingredients for the filling, so was pretty much committed.  In a moment of "nothing ventured, nothing gained" I filled the cases and baked them - and they don't look too bad.  I made a couple of mini quiches from leftover pastry, and filled them with the cheesy custard mix... they actually tasted pretty good.

In the background I was busy multi-tasking on other things (after all 20 minutes, twice, for blind-baking and 40 minutes for a quiche to cook is plenty of time to use usefully) and watching the plans for the week ahead unravel before my eyes due to factors I could not control.  If only I hadn't been so organised and booked the travel, it would have been quicker to adjust my plans (and probably cheaper, I still have to work out the most cost effective way to change them)... but it'll be alright.  Just like the quiches, the revised plans will be rough around the edges, not as I had imagined them, but they'll work just fine.

Sometimes my perfectionist, organised, even bossy nature gets in the way of imperfect, slightly chaotic, more laid back and perfectly acceptable options.  Whether I'll ever fully learn from that, I don't know.  But for now, I have "servicable" quiches, a house to tidy and clean and guests to enjoy preparing for.  Everything else can wait.

In a little over three weeks I will once again be taking part in a charity fundraising walk - this time the relatively short, 10 mile, option of the 'Glasgow at Night' Pink Ribbonwalk.  Having been persuaded by various friends to do so, I gave in and purchased the above ridiculous outfit (the tee shirt comes with event registration) and shared the photo on social media.

One friend commented "you wouldn't see the Archbishop of Canterbury in an outfit like that."  I guess we can be grateful for that, but I know what she meant, and the compliment that here was an official Christian who was sufficiently normal (?) and batty to enter the spirit of the event.  So it has left me with much to mull over as to how we come across and what opportunities we might miss when we get hung up on decorum.

Another friend queried the litrugical significance - so I told them it was Gaudete Saturday (Gaudete Sunday is the pink candle in some Advent rings).  And it will be a gaudete day... celebrating life, remembering absent friends with affection, raising money for a good cause and rejoicing in it all.

Mission as pink tutu... who'd o' thunk it?!