So that's it!  Seven weeks of summer services done and dusted.  Today, after a reflection on the story of Lydia, we made the beginnings of a "community quilt"... each person was invited to write their name, or to draw themself if they couldn't write/preferred to draw, on a square of fabric, and then add it to the layout on the table.

After the service no less than three people came to me and offered to sew it up - I think we now have two eager quilt makers and an offer of assistance if needed.  Still some names to add, those who were away and a few no longer able to get along on a Sunday.  It will, I am sure, be a wonderful wall hanging in due course.

If grace is, at least in part, the unexpected good in tough situations, then this, for us, was to some degree, that.

Today I am very glad to part of this diverse group of people trying to follow Jesus in a confused and bruised world.

Holiday Club resources don't come cheap, and you never know quite how many copies of supporting puzzle books you might use, so I always end up erring on the side of caution and buying too many.

No matter that I think I just might use them again, the reality is that I don't.  In just a few years the cultural references are out of date, technology and trends have changed and, whilst the ideas are good, the material is largely obsolete.

So, the surplus resources, DVD and guidebook from this summer's services, based on SU Polar Explorers will soon be winging their way south to a small Home Mission supported church in the north of England...

Why there?  I posted in a Baptist group on social media, offering them to any BUGB Home Mission, BUS Grant-Aided or BUW equivalent church.  The first response was from a BUGB HMF church fairly close to the border... think Hadrian's Terminus and you're pretty much there.

In the next few weeks I will sort through other similar resources and see if they, too can be passed on before they are so outdated as to be risible!  And I might even gaina few inches of shelf-space!!

This Sunday we reach the end of our 'Polar Explorers' series, and the last of our assorted creative options for engagement with the theme.

Our very final activity will see the 'creatives,' 'quizzers', 'contemplatives' and 'actives' all responding together - I hope it proves meaningful for everyone.  There is a hint above - but lest anyone who will be there is reading, fear not there will be no pins, needles or sewing on Sunday (after all, were we good Jews, these would constitute work and be forbidden!!)

Two Sundays ago we made mosaic crosses as our response/prayer after the reflection on the conversion of Saul/Paul (or Titch of Tarsus as I renamed him).

I finally remembered to bring my camera at a time when the hall was empty, so that I could photograph them in situ... they now hang on our noticeboards where they can be enjoyed by any who pause to read them.

We made two.  One is above, the other is here:

I took this photo a week ago on a visit to a building called The Lighthouse in central Glasgow.  I took it from the top of a sprial staircase (I think it was 132 steps) just as someone else was taking a photo looking up.  Roughly half way up/down is the friend who was visiting me.

My final reflection in yesterday's evening service used this metaphor - one I find helpful for theolgoical reflection, for thinking about faith development and for life itself.

So here, lifted from my script, is what I said...

I like to imagine myself as the person on the staircase, travelling a one way journey through time (usually I see it was upwards but I don’t think the direction is important).  The trajectory is a spiral, reflecting the cyclic flow of season and years, with familiar markers such as birthdays or anniversaries, but always, always moving onwards, and never able to go back.

At the start, looking up, the journey head cannot be seen, at least beyond the first bend, and it appears enormous.  During the ascent it is possible to pause, to find oneself in a place that is both familiar and unfamiliar – immediately above a significant landmark, and, now, looking back down seeing it differently from a new perspective.  And one can look upwards, seeing that there are more uncharted spirals ahead, realising that the very real present moment will take on a different perspective when at some future point, it is viewed retrospectively.

We can only ever see from where we are now, a mixture of looking back at what once was so incredibly intense and now is dimmed and softened by distance; and looking forward perhaps catching glimpses of possibilities but thankfully unaware of what actually might lie ahead.

Sometimes it is only this looking backwards that enables us to detect the hints of God being at work in the situations that prompted our questions or doubts.  Sometimes it is only retrospectively that we can make any kind of meaning, recognise the moments of goodness or the signs of hope.  Sometimes, in the reality of dark and frightening present realities, it is these backward glances that give us the courage to take the next step, trusting that the God who shared with us in the past still does so.

As I near my five year anniversary of diagnosis, I can look back and see how far I have come, grateful for those who have shared that journey, and I can look forward, albeit with chastened optimism and realistic expectations, to a future in which God will continue to work with me for good.

My prayer for all us of is that God will continue to work with us in our personal quests for meaning.