At various times I have been called Little Miss Bossy, and I've posted that here before a couple of years back at least.  I have a statuette of her on my desk at church, a gift from a former work colleague in industry - so it must be true!

Another blogger I follow today described herself as Little Miss Stubborn (Tenacious, Annie, Tenacious).  So I wondered, which Roger Hargreaves character are you?

Sometimes the news, or events in our lives or those of people we love can leave us feeling helpless.  In the last couple of weeks I've had a few of those moments, but each time I've recalled the parable of the starfish and the song about the drops in a bucket...

One morning an elderly man was walking on a nearly deserted beach. He came upon a boy surrounded by thousands and thousands of starfish. As eagerly as he could, the youngster was picking them up and throwing them back into the ocean.

Puzzled, the older man looked at the young boy and asked, "Little boy, what are you doing?"

The youth responded without looking up, "I'm trying to save these starfish, sir."

The old man chuckled aloud, and queried, "Son, there are thousands of starfish and only one of you. What difference can you make?"

Holding a starfish in his hand, the boy turned to the man and, gently tossing the starfish into the water, said, "It will make a difference to that one!"

The song is an old Cliff Richard song 'Love and a Helping Hand' (if you read the lyrics on You-tube you will notice that 'pious' has been completely mis-spelled)

It comes under Annie's definition of supercheesybuttrue

One star fish at a time, one drop in a bucket, one mustard seed planted in a garden, one tiny bit of yeast in a batch of dough, a pinch of salt in a world of pain...

(If you follow the Jesus model, you don't, as a rule, exposit parables...)

Today I collected, packaged and posted two copies of my hard bound MPhil thesis.  A third lies casually on my desk in the vestry at church, its gold lettering glinting against the black covers.  It looks very smart!  It will reach Manchester tomorrow and then I just wait for a graduation date (December sometime).

I am disproprotionately pleased with the look of the hardbound version, so I hope the visiting preachers in the next couple of weeks appreciate just what they are looking at!

Yesterday I was doing some work on the notes for a session I'm leading in September.  I don't want to give away all that's planned, but this little quotation (the seeming missing word is as per the original) seemed worth sharing more widely and earlier.  It is about the corporate nature of TR (or why we shouldn't leave The Minister to do all the thinking) and seems to fit well with Baptist ecclesiology and Church Meetings at their best...

… theological reflection is characteristically a corporate activity.  It is the meeting of minds in common dependence on the tradition and enlivened by the Spirit in searching truth, which yields the insights.  A larger group provides the checks and challenges, the insights and lateral thinking, the unexpected questions and the realism necessary to resist the temptations of fantasy.  With this important safeguard it can be said with confidence that theological reflection on practice is one of the indispensable tools of ministry.  With it we will learn from experience and grow in ministerial maturity. Without it we run the risk either of pastoral ineffectiveness or of great error.

Paul Ballard and John Prichard, Practical Theology in Action, London , SPCK, 2006 (second edition) p. 144

Autumn comes a little bit earlier in Scotland than in England.  Today the schools are back and we start our 'new year' (just as I clear off on my hols of course).

Around this time last year - a week or two later to be precise - I recall noticing that the trees were just starting to change colour, that golds and yellows and reds were appearing amidst the green.  Here and there a few early fallen leaves graced the pavements.  As I drank in the beauty of the moment, I was also filled with fear (that's why I know it was later) - would I live to see this happen again?

Last evening I went out for a walk, five miles of training for my half marathon in September.  Once again I noticed the leaves starting to turn from summer to autumn hues.  This time, I was remembering, and seeing from a very different 'place' what the year has wrought.

So much has changed in that time and I can bore for Britain on the topic, but I can honestly say, as I look back and look forward, I have no regrets about how that time has been spent.  This time I am fortunate enough not to be wondering whether there will be a 'next time' (though if you get me in a dark moment I might wonder how many 'next times'), at least two of the friends I've made along the way are not so lucky. Like leaves, our lives are fragile and fleeting.

I think autumn will now always have a special place in my heart, as the leaves turn from green to gold, and as one season turns to another.  I think it will always give me pause to see the trees change.  I think I will always remember those I met this year.  I think that's good.