This is "Square" number eighteen for the blanket I'm knitting for the charity 'Sent With Love'.

My orignial plan was to make a few squares and post them off - each a different design because the thought of knitting endless identical squares seemed interminably dull.

This was fine until it very quickly became clear that despite using the same weight of wool and the same number of stitches, some patterns inevitably emerged larger or smaller than others.  My notionally 20cm squares varied from 18 cm to 22 cm.

So I realised that I'd better carry on and knit a full set of 'squares' and make a full blanket.

It has been fun, I've discovered 'magic arran' and 'self striping' yarn, that produces stripes and patterns due to longish regular lengths dyed in different colours.  I have done fairlisle and arran patterns, and rediscovered textures and techniques I had long forgotten.

And I have a right old assortment of 'squares' that need some sort of order bringing to them in order to make a blanket that isn't a total eyesore!

So I have been laying out the squares and working out how to arrange them so that it looks resonable, and deciding what less exotic squares are needed to fill the gaps...

A bit like life really - the weird and wonderful is important and delightful, but without some routine and structure it degenerates into total chaos.

I began the knitting as part of a response to the news that folk I knew had received blankets from this charity, one of whom enjoyed its comfort for only a couple of weeks.  The charity now has a waiting list of people to send blankets to - even though a few of their crochet contributors seem to make a blanket a day!  It would be sad to think of someone on that list never quite receiving a blanket.  So I suppose part of the motivation to get on with this blanket is recognition of the fragility of life.

This 'heart' square was my own design, the colours oddments I had left from other squares that I wanted to use up. 

It was also a very deliberate choice. 

A symbol of love.  Love given and love received.

A symbol of remembrance.  For P who loved her blanket, and for others whose lives, however briefly, intertwined with mine, including A whose I was privileged to marry and a few days later to lay to rest.

A symbol of gratitude.  For those who loved, and continued to love me; for those whose professional care continues to give me good health; for live itslef.

A symbol of hope.  Good wishes to whoever eventually receives the finished blanket.  Hope that, in the end, it all be OK.  Hope that, in God, all will be be well.

Another twelve squares, some sewing up (a whole parable in itself!) and a border.

I am setting myself a target date for completion - but if I miss it, so be it.  This is not a task to complete, it is a creative expression of life in all its fullness.

Today I was fortunate enough to be treated to a visit to the Kelpies at Falkirk - a guided tour which was really informative and interesting - and then lunch.  Duke (head down) and baron (head up) are made from type 316 stainless steel, manufactured in sheet form in Scotland, laser cut into panels in Sheffield, transported back and erected by a team of just four men on site.  Roughly 30m tall, and set onpiles 35m deep, these are a feat of engineering as well as sculpture, and an incredible boost both to Falkirk and to Sheffield.

Standing inside Duke and learning something of the story, I could visualise the huge steelworks in Sheffield where panels were cut, places I visited as a student as part of a course on industrial chaplaincy.

It's been a week of connection making/spotting drawing on the time I spent working in an RC church in preparing a funeral and now the Kelpies linking with a couple of weeks spent in Sheffield.

I had a lovely time today, very relaxed at the end of a busy week with some long and demanding days.  And it kind of made me smile how connections are formed and discovered often in the most unexpected ways.

It's one of the many things they don't teach you at Vicar School - what do you do after a funeral?

Interestingly, it is often my non-church friends who ask how I 'deal with' or 'process' the emotions, memories or whatever it is that are stirred up for me.

So here's a secret - I have some rituals that make it copable.

Part of the reason I "collar up" for funerals is that in so-doing I take on the persona of 'minister' and even, arguably, 'the church'... it is a sign to myself as much as anyone else that I am now 'in role', my professional head is on and I can do this.

After the service, after the committal or burial, after the 'tea' if I am invited, I go home, change into jeans and a sweatshirt, make a huge mug of tea, grab a few digestive biscuits (if there are any in the house) and take time just to blob.  If I happen to get home close to a meal time then it'll be beans on toast (or something similar) eaten on my knee, washed down with said huge mug of tea.

I don't do much if any active thinking, I just take time to be.

If the weather is suitable, and the workload permits (or if it doesn't but my inner need demands it)  I may go for a walk, look at the trees and plants, watch the birds, see life being lived in its ordinariness and so move on again.

Nothing clever, nothing overtly spiritual, but it does the job for me!

Once upon a time, any Baptist minister serving a Scottish church would prepare two Sunday services and one for midweek (often called a Bible study but it was really a serivce).

When I began in full time ministry in Leicestershire, I used to prepare two full services every week... two sermons, two sets of intercessory prayers etc., etc.

Nowadays I mostly have one service to prepare for, which keeps me more than adequately occupied.

This week I have two church services and a funeral (non-church) to prepare.

I can't say I am hankering for the old days, but I admire those who to this day prepare and deliver two or three fresh services every single week.  And that's without any occasional offices.

One draft done, and one will get started this evening, all being well.

Today's focus was on the story of Stephen from Acts 6 and 7... the table waiter who gained the confidence to speak boldly in public and who was executed for his beliefs.

One of the options we offered was to do some ceramic painting - using special markers to decorate mugs and plates (tiny plates; the example above is a plain white tea plate I used from home as a prototype).

Other options were 'grown up' colouring, word searches, puzzles and 'fun with food' as well as listening to a spoken reflection with interative prayers using newspapers.

It seemed to go pretty well - and the ceramic painting was amazing, I wish I'd taken my camera to record the skills of those who chose that option.

The key message was a simple one, about healthy self-esteem, about healthy regard for others whose gifts and skills differ from our own, about no-one and no-thing being too 'ordinary' or too 'special', about the priesthood of all believers...

Three out of seven now completed, we have all adjusted to the format, I've kept my word and kept services to 50 mins... not remotely complacent, but I think it is going OK.