Yeah!  Finally off the shore and onto the first stepping stone.

Kind of amusing as this was called the 'pre-verification scan'.  Nice tautology in the name methinks.

Very pleasant staff and not too long a wait.  I was glad to see that they take safety seriously and check who you are umpteen times on your way to the nuking chamber.  The last stage was a photo - face only - so that when I go back they can double check I am me and not someone pretending to be me, or someone who just happens to have the same name and DOB as me.  I guess with some names and ages it wouldn't be so impossible for there to be two of them.  Quite why anyone would choose to be irradiated like this is beyond me but hey...

So, more felt tip pen marks over the tattoos and in a few other places and no beauty products, not even deodorant, for five weeks... just as well this isn't a scented blog!  Baby soap at the ready along with with gentle clothing for when the skin gets sore, and lots of bottled water.

Tomorrow then, the first real zaps - three lots of about a minute each - and I leave the shore behind and head towards open water.

So, someone has shifted another stepping stone - only by an hour this time, but it still annoys me that yet again the notice was minimal.  I am determined not to shoot the messengers, but I am practising my best scowl for the consultants.

Maybe my myopia is such that I am not so good at distinguishing basking turtles from stepping stones?  Just as I approach they sense I'm coming and swim away.

I'll just have to learn to walk on water...!  (Adrian Plass offers views on how that was/is done in A Year at St Yoricks)

A lovely weekend, glorious weather, great company, tasty food... altogether good fun.  Just a shame my visitors took the sun back south with them!  At least the rain means the reservoirs stay full.

Our guest preacher once again delivered.  In that way that defied explanation or comprehension, she had chosen to preach on Psalm 23 and Romans 8, and the love of God from which nothing can separate us, not even death or disaster, in a week when a loved friend of the church had died suddenly.  She will be a real blessing to the church with the wisdom to call her.

I am now, slowly, starting to crank myself back into gear for my return to work at Easter.  My spare room is full of props for Easter Sunday worship (the arrival of Home Bargains at the nearby retail park means a new source of ideal tat!  Am I the only minister who mourns the passing of Woollies in this respect?).  I am really, really looking forward to being back 'where I belong' and what better day to be there than Resurrection Day?

I woke up this morning realising that I had not come up with service titles for the first month back, indeed I had not even given more than the most cursory thought to it.  Fortunately a few ideas gelled and I now have a set of suitably vague titles!!  Will we be the only city church marking Rogation Sunday I wonder?!

Today is, for the second week of asking, my 'last day of freedom' before radiotherapy.  If they don't start it this week, or if they mess me about, they will see that I can get cross.  Last week in conversation with a very old friend, who has once or twice seen me angry, I said that I had been practising my scowls... something which will evidently scare anyone!  Stepping stones, here I come.

Another Baptist Times obituary notice for someone whose path has crossed mine.

Another Baptist minister who has, in some way, encouraged me in my own ministry.

Chris was the father of my nextdoor neighbour when I lived in Manchester, and also by one of those quirks of two small worlds that intersect, the brother of the client of a former colleague of mine in industry.  I didn't know Chris well, but he was a thoughtful man, good humoured and clearly very proud of his children and grandchildren. 

I think he probably thought I was a bit odd (no affirmatives please!) but he was kind and generous in his conversations with me.  A long time ago now, but I still remember him giving me a lift to and from Baptist Assembly (the English one) in Blackpool when I was a student.

Chris worked hard and loved generously; it is sad that his retirement was cut short by illness.

Thoughts especially with C, A, J & I at this time.

Go now to your rest, good and faithful servant, rest in peace.

No posting for a couple of days as I have visitors coming from Dibley for the weekend.  It will be great to see them and hope they remember to bring the sun (it's currently only shining in three out of four UK countries).

This Sunday is Passion Sunday (well it is for Proddies) when we recall how Jesus 'turned his face towards Jerusalem.'  I am always struck by the poignancy of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem (Luke 19) and how much he must have loved the place and the people.  He had quite probably been there every year of his life at Passover time, or certainly at key points in his life.  He must have known the city well, had favourite places to shop, to eat, to sit and chat.  He must have known the Temple well, its riches and its rags, its worship and its hypocricy.  And he loved it dearly.

I wonder how much we love the places we live in, and the people among whom we live out our discipleship?  Does our love for them - people, places - ever move us to tears?

I am often asked what I think of Glasgow and always reply 'I love it.'  I do.  I am a city girl at heart I guess, and the diversity, complexity and energy of the city delight me.  And I love Dibley too, with all its unique, if sometimes exasperating (sorry folks) features, its gritty determination, its lovely rural landscapes, its sense of 'istory (ironically they don't, as a rule, do H's), its ability to love even this incomer ('you have to live here three generations to be accepted').  Loving isn't blind, and that's why it can provoke strong reactions - such as Jesus weeping.

Let us, in our imaginations, find a high spot near our villages/towns/cities and look at them in love... what emotions does that provoke?  How about we do it for our churches too?