The time spent in Morcambe was fun.  But this is a more serious post, arsnig one from one of the things we encountered that was less than helpful.

As we strolled along the prom on a lovely sunny morniong, I looked ahead and saw a huge banner/flag thing (the kind you get at  garages or outside shops) that said HEALING.  I turned to the other 'vicar' and said 'does that say what I think it says?'   'Yes,' she replied, 'and it's almost certainly dodgy.'  As we reached them, we were approached by someone holding out a leaflet, and politely declined.  The same happened as we strolled back an hour later, and a third time as we were on our way to afternoon tea.

This third time, the man tried to engage us in conversation, saying 'I knew you'd say that' (i.e. no thanks) 'so who are you?'  So I told him adding '... and two of us are vicars.'  I walked on further and yet another person tried to offer us a leaflet.  When we reached our destination, 'Vicar 2' said that she too had been stopped and had given more or less the same answer, adding 'and by the way, I'm a hospital chaplain'... at which point evidently said man scurried off rather quickly.

The instincts these folk had - that there are hurting and sick people who might appreciate prayer and might experience some form of healing through that - were good; their ideas and approach were bad.  Since I got home I googled the organsiation of which they were part, and found the website, which included prayers for good weather and that the wind was 'not to strong' (sic) as this would make things difficult.  I admire anyone who has the courage of their convictions to the extent that they will stand up in a public place and risk ridicule or rejection.  But I don't admire the daft, dodgy and downright dangerous theology that is peddled, often by innocent and ignorant well-meaning people caught in the aura of some charismatic leader.

This week I spent a couple of days in Morecambe with some of the friends I have made as a result of shared experiences of cancer diagnoses.  I am always aware that my non-cancer friends prboably find these mentions odd and/or feel that I really ought to put it all in the past and forget about it.  One of the many things I've learned, though, is that some health conditions can only be understood from 'inside' and that often once the life-saving bit is done, there is a shortage of places/spaces to discuss the long-term after effects.

Anyhoo...

Eight of us travelled from all corners of the UK to Morecambe where we ate fish 'n' chips, had afternoon tea at a posh hotel, posed with Eric Morecambe, strolled on the prom, drank countless cups of tea and sorted the world out, at least briefly.  Yes, we talked about cnacer stuff, but we also talked about family, friends, work, faith, holidays, etc.

I had a great time, laughed lots and shared the sunshine with true friends...

Bring me Sunshine, in your smile,
Bring me laughter, all the while,
In this world where we live, there should be more happiness,
So much joy you can give, to each brand new bright tomorrow,

Make me happy, through the years,
Never bring me, any tears,
Let your arms be as warm as the sun from up above,
Bring me fun, bring me sunshine, bring me love.

Bring me Sunshine, in your eyes,
Bring me rainbows, from the skies,
Life's too short to be spent having anything but fun,
We can be so content, if we gather little sunbeams,

Be light-hearted, all day long,
Keep me singing, happy songs,
Let your arms be as warm as the sun from up above,
Bring me fun, bring me sunshine, bring me love.

Sylvia Dee

Today has been busy but fun - morning coffee with a friend, who had baked peanut butter cookies specially and then home to bake another large batch of cupcakes - two dozen to go with me tomorrow to meet some friends, and a dozen to go with me on Saturday to my Mum's (the latter being kept in the fridge).  Lots of train rides through lots of familiar stations, some new people to meet, lots of laughter and food and friendship to be shared.

So, a week of mostly downtime - which feels rather good.

Some of the cakes going tomorrow - apart from the choc ones, those for the weekend have totally different decoration even though the flavours are the same..

Today's church visit took me west along the A82 into suburbia and a lovely little Baptist chapel that stands practically on a crossroads. 

I enjoyed my visit, which seemed to combine some blasts from the past (cannot recall quite when I was last in a church when one Deacon did the 'prayer for the bread' and another the 'prayer for the wine') with some contemporary aspects (nothing that was sung was more than a decade old, and some considerably less).  We were welcomed and gathered with scripture and prayer before singing a couple of songs back-to-back.  I was surprised, given the large number of young children, that there was no 'all age bit' and they seemed rather restless until they left for Sunday School, but it was lovely to see so many children.  The Bible readings to which the sermon referred were pretty scant - three verses from a psalm and three from an epistle (less than had been used in the call to worship) - and, for my preferences, the sermon overly consisted of anecdotes and illustrations.  The message - about cultivating sincere gratitude to God, and that this should inform our entire lives - was a good one; I'm just not convinved it justified forty minutes.  Communion was simple and quite meaningful, though one of the deacons' prayers showed they had no idea what they were about (note to self - what do I assume that people know when I ask them to do things in worship?).  Alas, as is so often the case intercessory prayer was conspicuous by its absence - not even any 'inward looking' prayer.

Post service refreshments were served in a bright hall as far from the santuary as the building permits - that had a degree of inevitability, but did mean you had to be determined to get there.  To add to the complexity, the kitchen was even further away so the coffee and tea had to be transported on a trolley - all credit to the people who make this happen week in and week out.  The tea was OK and there was a good choice of biscuits and cakes (so long as you liked/could eat chocolate).  The Ship of Fools 'standing around looking lost' trick was very revealing - I was left on my own studying a noticeboard before one of only two people to speak to me invited me to join her outside in the sunshine (and we had a nice chat).  It was not that people were unfriendly, it was just that they were too ycatching up with their friends.  Given the size of the congregation, I was hardly invisible so it did make me wonder how a 'real' visitor might have felt (one of the people who spoke to me already had a good idea who I was!)

I think there is a difference between suburban churches and rural or urban ones.  I have a suspicion that the 'dormitory' nature of suburbs can rub off on to the 'character' of congregations.

So, once again, lots of good stuff to ponder, and overall a happy experience.  

My one real gripe lay with the final sermon illustration used by the visiting preacher.  He began to recount the example of a woman who had been diagnosed with advanced cancer, and I knew where it was headed... her graceful acceptance of her lot, and her assurance the night before she died that she had a real sense of peace.  Good.  I am glad... but this kind of story, to me, if a bit like the more 'dramamtic' conversion stories becuase it centres on 'extremes'.  It also puts a lot of pressure on other Christians to do likewise...  I remember visiting a lady, a stalwart of the 'chapel' who was diagnsoed too late with either thyroid or oesophogeal cancer; which it was, is not relevant.  Her faith was not thwarted, but her anger and sense of injustice were very real: "what have I done to deserve this?" she asked me.  In the end, she did die peacefully, and did find a sense of accpetance if not resolution.  Let's avoid making it all too neat, Christians are people too, and anyway, I don't recall Jesus having much peace the night before his death....

Next weekend I will be away visiting family, so probably not in church. 

Whilst it is nice to arrive ten minutes before worship begins and have no responsibilities, it would be very easy to become rootless and adrift without the 'anchor' or 'harbour' of a regualr community of faith, so I know that by the time I return to work in October, I will be ready to be first in and last out once more!

Yesterday when I was at the haridresser, he told me that he had now completed training with Trevor Sorbie's 'My New Hair' programme which means he is recongised as being competent to offer advice and hair-care for women affected by cancer-related hairloss, and post treament re-growth.  It's no secret that, for me, hairdressers are ranked alongside dentists as 'scary places', and even now I am very particular about who I let near my hair.

Wind the clock back nearly three years, and he was very kind to the gibbering wreck who had come to get her very long cut before starting chemo, and did give me a really good cut (even if it lasted about ten days once chemo began!).  He was the one who shaved off the hair that survived the original fall, and who gave advice on suitable wigs, as well as trimming the one I chose (even if I only wore it once as I could not bear the itching).  And it was him who snipped off my crazy chemo curls (which I had thoroughly enjoyed for a full year) and took care of the transition to (almost) straight hair once more.  Trust is important, and I feel I do trust him - he knows what I will and won't let him do, and he never tries to pressurise me.

So, because I know that people land on here looking for cancer info, even after all this time, and because I am sure I'm not the only person who is hairdresser-phobic, I am adding this scan of an article in a local magazine advertsing his salon, which has now been approved as an NHS wig supplier for this part of Glasgow.  (I realise it's not everso legible but could be copied and 'stretched' if someone wanted to read it)