This morning I was very nervous about the service I'd prepared - combining all-age zone-style worship with Remembrance... could an appropriate balance be struck that would allow people to feel that due respect had been paid whilst giving space for those for whom the style or content of the reflection might be less helpful?

We offered various 'zones':

• the 'creative zone' where people had the choice of making origami hearts and peace cranes or working together to create a temporary 'memorial poster' with the names of the men from our church who had died in the two world wars
• the 'colouring and doodling zone' with mandala style 'grown up' colouring sheets and the same origami options
• the 'active zone' - or creche - which as well as toys offered colouring suited to younger children
• the 'contemplative zone' with a reflection and prayers
• the 'discussion zone' - a room with some printed resources and Bibles and an opportunity to talk freely about anything raised by what had been shared together in the first part of the service.

The last of these was new... a recognition that sometimes people find that a 'from the front' talk doesn't scratch where they are itching.  And it seemed to work well for those who chose that option, with very encouraging feedback.

All Age Worship is always a work in progress and this was an experiment that could have gone horribly wrong, but by the grace of God and the generosity of spirit of the Gatherers and some visitors, it worked out fine.

I have to admit that I am always glad to be this side of the Remembrance service, even though I think it is really important.   Two cups of tea and some kitty-cat cuddles later I am slightly less zonked than when I came home!!

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At this afternoon's Friday Gathering, I was speaking on Remembering focussing in on Genesis 9 and the rainbow.  As I read the verses aloud, I was struck by how many times God said, "this will be a reminder to me".

I was left wondering - is God's memory as rubbish as mine that this needs to be dinned into the Divine consciousness.  Or, as someone else suggested (and I have here interpretted), is it that God is so sorely tempted to zap us that this almost becomes a mantra "I will not zap, I will not zap..."

Saw this today on social media.  It made me smile.  It also made me think.

Today I spent a little time dividing the poppy seeds I had bought (allegedly 7000 red, 300 white) between as many tiny resealable plastic bags as I could.  In the end I managed 29 before I ran out of seed.  Which suggests something of the order of 10 white and 200 red in each little bag.  I have no way of counting - the seeds are so tiny that the red poppy ones look like specks of dust.

Scattered next spring by whoever takes them away, these tiny specks of nothingness have the potential, given the right conditions, to germinate, grow and blossom, albeit fleetingly, next summer before casting their own seeds in the hope of another flourishing.

There is something utterly ridiculous about believing something so tiny as a poppy seed, sprinkled from a small plastic bag onto a random piece of ground (or carefully into a pot) will actually survive and thrive.  But that's the nature of corn poppies, they do just that... that's why they flowered in Flanders, and that's why, red or white, they can remain a powerful symbol of hope. 

Insignifcant, unnoticed seeds, trampled underfoot, which when fully grown bring delight to children and stir memories in the minds and hearts of adults.  Not a gazillion miles removed from a story about a mustard seed after all.

I think everything is just about ready for Sunday morning now, when we will take time to remember and to reflect - and then move onwards again, working for the inbreaking Kingdom of God's Shalom.