What a wonderful theme!  How annoying, then, that I only discovered it on the last day of BBC Radio 2 World of Faith Week.  Lots of stories told on the Radio 2 website from different perspectives - never married, widowed, divorced, ordained, 'lay' etc. that are worth listening to or looking at.

The difference between aloneness and loneliness is noted, and the place of solitude and socialising recognised.  There a few nice twee stories with happy endings - but then I guess there is a need to give hope to those who long for such and ending themselves.  There is also quite a lot of painful honesty.

Living alone well - I wonder that really means?

I recall a singe male minister telling me how a search committee asked him if he could look after himself, and wondered who would cook and clean for him.  So is living alone well measured in terms of our diet and the frequency with which we dust?  I think there are challenges in the domestic sphere for people who live alone - cooking for one is somtimes a huge effort and the temptation to grab a quick snack can be very strong.  Batch cooking and ready meals each have their place, along with a fruit bowl and a good dose of self-discipline.

But that's surely not all we mean by living alone well?  Surely it is something about thriving rather than surviving, about being fulfilled rather than filling every waking moment with actiivty.

To be honest, I cannot imagine not living alone now - for roughly 30 years that has been my lifestyle, and it suits me well.  There are enormous freedoms that my friends-in-relationships don't have - eating odd things at strange times, slobbing around all day doing nothing (yes, it does happen sometimes!), accepting invitations withoout the need to consult anyone, and so on.  There are less fun aspects - the need to get up and make food if I feel ropey, the lack of potential for someone to bring home a pleasant surprise, the absence of a sparring partner or sounding board for important decisions.

But on the whole, living alone suits me.  Cat by name and cat by nature, perhaps.  Independent but not isolated.  Able to enjoy company but not dependent on it.

I'm not sure quite how living alone well is defined - but I like to think I don't do too badly.  Here are the tips that Radio 2 offer!

On a more sobering note, a substantial number of people who are part of faith communities reported that they felt lonely - that challenges me as a minister as I wonder who in my congregation feels that way.  And what, then, might we and they do to alleviate that?

In 2010, 2011 and 2012, I changed my blog colour scheme to pink for October, a nod to breast cancer awareness month.  This year I consciously did not.  Mostly because I was detecting loud and clear that some people were fed up of hearing about it, and some thought I really should be 'over it' by now, after all, three years on I am alive and well.

I think it was the right call not to 'do' the pink thing, and not to bore people rigid with cancer stuff, but it's not something I will ever entirely 'get over'.

This year, October has seen me contribute, by invitation, to three other websites in various ways...

To BMS Catalyst Live, on Mission of the Minds

To Breast Cancer Care, on body image after cancer

To SmallVOICE, as part of their 1000 words series

One specifically theological, one specifically cancer related, one in which the two intertwined... I think somehow in that unusual trio of online contributions is expressed something of where I am now, and how my life is panning out.  I don't need to 'do' pink to demonstrate that the experiences of 2010/11 (and the ongoing long-term side effects) are important in shaping my life and my thinking.  The spaces and places to share that are many and varied - from a slightly greater empathy with those I serve, to a specialist conference in New Zealand, to supporting and encouraging others who walk the path 'behind' me.

It does bother me when people opt out of cancer screening, of any sort.  It does annoy me when the print and broadcast media speak of 'all clears'  and 'cures' when the professionals will only ever speak of 'remission'.  And I do want to do what I can to hasten the day when, as a teeny tiny hint of eschatological hope, there will be no more cancer.

But I won't make you endure pink

And I'll try not to nag or bore

And I will live life to the full, in all the ways I can, for as long as I can

Deal?

I mentioned in a post last week that I had been involved in an innovative project using photos as a starting point for conversations.  Well now that the outcome of that is 'live' I'll say a little more about it.

I was invited to be the '1000 Words' guest for the October SmallVOICE podcast of GRF Christian radio (link in the sidebar under "things that make you go hmmm..."  It was an interesting and enjoyable, if slightly stressful evening (rather a lot of soul baring by my standards) but the interviewer and editor have done a great job in making something of what I shared.  It is slightly weird to hear myself say 'um' so many times as my worship leading is largley 'um' free; also whoever taught me to ennunciate consonants should be mighty pleased with themself!

The SmallVOICE podcast has a link to here which has a link to there, so we can go round in circles as long as we wish!

A very interesting 15 min section on truth and trustworthyness in relation to the news media makes a useful conversation partner with my piece, which is partly about authenticity and openness.  Finding the right balance is challenging, and it was good to reflect further upon this.  Serendipity or whatever, I found myself makig connections as I listened.

You can listen to the podcast here; my bit is at about 24 mins 30 seconds in and lasts roughly 8 minutes. 

As here, so there, I use my first name only - it's not rocket science to track me down if you want to, but there are people and churches to protect, at least a little bit, and this is how I choose to do it (you can decide if that's honest or truthful!)

Yesterday I read in a newspaper that people trust scientists more than they trust clergy-people.

So where does that leave me as a scientist turned clergy-person?!

Sometimes I have nothing to write about, and other times a whole raft of ideas floods my mind.

I have just finished reading a fascinating book called "The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer" which is a really accessible and interesting account of the way that cancer treatment, and understanding of this class of diseases, has changed over the last century or so, as well as tracking it back to ancient history.  Using various literary illustrations and quotes along the way, the writer makes frequent note of the 'serendipitous' nature of discoveries or coalition of ideas.  I enjoyed the book greatly, it taught me a lot about the disease and how treatment has evolved (I am mighty glad to have been diagnosed in 2010, not 1980 or even 1990, but people then would probably say the same compared with 1950 or 1900...).  I also found myself spotting little things that made me go 'hmmm'... maybe these were serendipitous too?

Asceptic surgery was first carried out by Joseph Lister a surgeon at what is now called Glasgow Royal Infirmary.  One of his first procedures was a mastectomy performed on his sister.  My surgery took place in that hospital, albeit in a shiny modern building...

George Beatson was a breast surgeon in Glasgow... the hospital where I had chemotherapy was named in his honour...

Tamoxifen was patented three months before I was born...

And so on.  Someone else would read the book and not notice any of these things.  They might notice hospitals they knew (mainly US but the Uk and Europe have been vital in the story) or dates that resonated.  They might not spot any connections whatsoever.  So was it serendiptious or just a bit random?

Several years ago, I was at a Baptist ministers' conference at a well known Christian conference centre.  Other groups were also there.  On the last day, I was carrying a large box of equipment out of the building.  As I reached the door, someone from the other group arrived and opened it for me.  "That was providential" she said.  "Lucky" I thought, knowing that all my Baptist minister friends would use the same term.  So was it luck or providence, or merely coincidence?

Words, so I am told, are how we create meaning.  But the meaning of words, I am also told, is determined in community.  All language is insider language, and word games and word plays are part and parcel of life.  Word plays can include or exclude.  Word games can help or hinder comprehension.  Semantics (in any of its meanings) can be fun or annoying.

Serendipity, chance, luck, providence... these words all seem to be inter-related (I have not looked in a thesaurus but expect they occur as alleged synonyms).  I wonder, too, if they are constructs we make ourselves, correlations we deduce or design, to make some kind of sense of otherwise random and bewildering coincidences?

Or, are they somehow manifestations of an altogether more wonderful and bewildering concept - that of grace?  I offer this suggestion tentatively, because there is a risk of bad theology here, that says somehow me and mine, and our good, are the reason for the coincidence.

I'm not sure, and I don't have the brain power to work it out, but for me there is something intriguing about the coincidences and connections, something that makes me go 'hmmm', something that suggests that 'in all things God works for good.'

I enjoyed the honesty of the book, and though parts were repetitive, it was a good read.  The author seemed to struggle to end it - partly I think because the case study he had followed throughout did not end as he expected.  The reality is we still don't really understand cancer, we still have no cure, we can achieve longer remission (even decades) for some forms whislt others are still fatal within weeks of diagnosis.  But somehow within this grace is active... researchers stumble across new insights, new treatments, new connections... people endure new procedures or new drugs not just for themselves but from a desire that one day a cure will be found. 

If nothing else, the book made me think again about the complexity of language and about the mystery of grace - and that has to be a good thing.