One of the tasks I've offered to undertake this summer is to put together initial drafts for an Ethical Policy and (or maybe including) a Procurement Policy for our church.  I've spent a remarkably pleasant couple of hours looking at what I can find online (everything from "please pay £x to dowload our template" to Westminster and Scottish parliaments, to banks and supermarkets, along with a few charities on the way).  This has helped me to see the kind of layout that people use and the varied styles they adopt, as well as the kind of stuff we might want to include.

So far I am around half way through the pre-amble bit, and already relishing the opportunity it gives me to reflect on how to relate our "charitable purpose", the Baptist DoP, and our adopted 'Core Values' to the way we chose to operate and regulate our life.  For sure, we are a FairTrade Church, and that's a good start.  Definitely, we recycle and re-use where we can, and that's good.  Certainly we aspire to inclusivity and try to consider the needs of people with disabilties, which is pretty basic.  But having the opportunity to sit down and work some of this into policy, a document to which we can be held accountable, is challenging and inspiring.  How do we decide where to invest our money?  What contradictions might we be living with, wititngly or otherwise?  It's good stuff!

I've tried - with no success as yet - to find a Baptist Church who might have such policies... and the only reply I've had is, "well we'll look forward to seeing yours"!

Trail-blazing again?  Surely not!  But, if we are, then well and good.  On which note, I'd better get back to that pre-amble!!

I decided this afternoon to take myself, and the book I have to review, over the road to the park... it's a glorious day and it seemed a shame to sit at a desk when I could commune, to a degree at least, with nature.

I finished the book and sat for a few minutes, simply savouring the space and stillness, admired the daisies and dandelions clocks and pondered what I had been reading.

The book review - 200 words, so plenty of space to write stuff - is my next task.  I feel I could do it in a couple of sentences really: read this book, it's not rocket science, it probably doesn't tell you anything you don't know, but read it... and blow dandelion clocks, and make daisy chains and take time for yourself simply to be, to dust yourself, let go of regrets and remorse and step forward moore hopefully.

Since I'm doing this for a Baptist publication, I'll say no more here, but look out for the review, buy or borrow the book, and make some space for yourself.

Yesterday I was given the sparkly kitten brooch, a thank you gift from P & A, that was meant to be a surprise until Saturday.  It is a precious memento of someone who allowed me into her life, to share in dark places as well as someone with whom I laughed, drank tea and teased her in-the-eyes-of-God husband.

Today came the early morning phone call to say she had died.  Not unexpected and still not expected.

And it made me thankful all over again for my own continuing life and generally good health.

Today there is a lovely blue sky and fuffly white clouds.

Today the kittens took over more their fair share of the bed, one snoring the other stretching out as long as possible.

Today I will share communion with a centenarian and conversation with others.

Today, as every day there is so much for which to be thankful.

RIP P, I am privileged and proud to have known you.  Rest in peace and rise in glory.

... I was going to log off the computer and do some overdue housework.

Then the urgent message... can you come now, this minute...

A wedding blessing scheduled for Saturday now needed to be today or it would probably be too late.

I went as fast as Scotrail could carry me.  The registrar arrived but could not perform the legals because the person was too unwell.  So I did the blessing, re-writing mentally as I went along, delcaring the couple married before God.

And that, gentle reader, is why I rant and rage sometimes.

This was a huge privilege, a massive responsiblity, a bittersweet beautiful moment to gather with a family around a bedside to bless a marriage before God if not in the eyes of the state, and to help hurting people in their moment of need.

Survivor? No.

Over it? Never.

Transformed by it?  Definitely.

Peace be upon you, P & A, your love is eternal.

Apparently yesterday was "Cancer Survivors Day" and for anyone who marked it, enjoyed it or celebrated it, well done.

I didn't.  I wouldn't.

I didn't because I was unaware of it, and wouldn't because, though totally well-meant, the word "survivor" does not work for me.

If those of us still here are "survivors" what does that make those who are not?

What does it say about Joy, Margaret, Rose, Paul, Anthony, John, Claire, Rachel, Gillian, Jan, Freda, Kate, Lil, Anne, Lulu, Laura, Caroline, Jean, June, Lynn, Sheila (all real first names)... and the countless, countless others I've known personally who died from cancer? 

Are they losers?  Did they somehow fail?

Of course not.  These names date back to the late 1970s, some of them were diagnosed so late on they didn't stand a chance; some of them underwent all sorts of horrible treatments with courage, positivity and humour, but they could not beat, defeat or 'survive' cancer.

In a couple of months time I will reach the fifth anniversary of my diagnosis.  I did not expect to be here to reach this milestone, or if I did reach it, did not expect to be disease free, as my starting point wasn't exactly brilliant.  But here I am, keeping well, basically healthy, and living life.

This is part of my problem - cancer is a collection of cruel, unpredictable diseases that doesn't read the text books.  You can start with a lousy prognosis and be fine, or a great prognosis and it gets you anyway.  You can obey the rules to the letter and get cancer, or you can live a life or riley and get off scot free.  So 'survivor' is a bit of a naff term, in my view.  Sure, my choices can help or hinder my long term health - and I prefer to think I've done all I can (within reason) to keep it kicked into touch - but no one told cancer the rules!

Is there a better word? Is there a word that allows those who are fortunate enough to be cured or in remission or NED to affirm that without, unintentionally insulting or denying those who are Stage 4, or terminal or who have died?  I'm not sure there is.

As for me, I think the phrase "still NED as far as I know" is as good as it gets... NED - no evidence of disease, a phrase that acknowledges the possibility that cancer will, or even has already, come back but isn't yet showing its ugly head.  A phrase that is inherently humble, provisional, honest... this, for me, is what is needed.

Some readers may define themselves as Survivors; others will be living with, or supporting loved ones with, primary cancer, and some with secondary cancer... whatever language is right for you is right for you. 

Me, I'll be a grateful, humble NED whose life is richer for knowing those who were not as lucky.