Today's morning prayer asked the question 'what does ordinary time look like for you?'  A good question, I thought, as I am not in my 'ordinary time' at the moment.  So the subsidiary question then becomes something like 'what do I do with this time?'

Now, at risk of being struck off for heresy, if one more person describes it as God's gift of time to draw closer in prayer I am likely to brain them with a copy of The Interior Castle or the work of some other female medieval mystic who suffered from headaches, poor short term memory and a weird delight in bodily illness.  Yes, there is opportunity in this time to slow down, to be still, to focus more intentionally Godwards, but that doesn't make it somehow a 'gift'.  Someone, somewhere needs to do some proper joined up theological thinking about how we view illness (generally as 'not good') and the time/space out of busyness it necessitates (often casually perceived as 'very good') recognising that illness/injury demands a lot of energy (physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual) in its own right.  One of the most helpful and profound messages in my Christmas cards this time said "keep the faith, and when you can't let others keep it for you."  This can be understood at many levels, and seems to recognise that sometimes we just don't have the energy to be 'holy' and that's OK.  And it is OK.  And maybe someone reading this needs to know that.

So, if this time is not God's gift to make me more holy - which doesn't mean that God can't use it that way if that is what God deems best for me - what is it and what do I do with it?

One of my challenges is to establish some new rhythms to my days, ways that avoid them simply drifting past and me suddenly finding that it is Easter and I have spent four months reading blogs or watching drivel on TV.  Actually the latter isn't very likely as daytime TV drives me nuts very rapidly.  I know all the theory about life-balance, I could give the course with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back, but it isn't always so easy to practice what is preached.

So, here are some things I want to commit to for this 'ordinary time' to give it some sort of shape and meaning (they start with the holy of course ;-) )...

• use the Pray-as-you-Go daily mediation on weekday mornings
• use both sets of IBRA notes for personal Bible reading to give different insights on passages
• get out for a walk every day (unless it is sheet ice underfoot!)
• spend an hour a day reading simply for pleasure - not theology, not Bible study
• watch in full one proper news bulletin a day
• get that MPhil submitted!

I reckon that's enough to be going on with.  There will also be time spent with friends and a few treats along the way.  I still have to work out what Sundays should look like but don't feel too much urgency there - it seems valuable to explore how 'shutins' manage this.

No exactly 'oridnary time' as the church year sees it, but time when ordinariness can be explored in new ways.

Today I received through the post a little book called The World's Stupidest Signs.  As I flicked through I spotted this one which made me smile...

MEMO

Any member of staff who needs to take the day off to go to a funeral must warn the foreman on the morning of the match.

I know, small things amuse small minds.

In an attempt some sort of routine into my world of enforced idleness, I have decided each day will begin with the pray-as-you-go meditation (I typed medication first, maybe that's true too!).  Today's began with a Taize chant that was new to me... Gott ist nur liebe. 'God is nothing but love,' so the recording tells me.  Sometimes hearing something in a different language, or at least translated from a different language, gives new insights or nuances to the more familiar.

God is love - the usual English language way of saying it.

God is nothing but love - somehow that has a deeper feel to it.  And if God is nothing but love how does that shape our loves?

You can hear the song here or the meditation here

Today it has looked absolutely beautiful from my window - clear blue skies and sparkly white ground.  I decided I needed some fresh air, so I donned my boots, my big coat, a warm hat and set off... on reaching the front door it was clear that underfoot was not snow but ice.  Still, I was determined to get out so I ventured the steps and onto the pavement.  It was very, very slippery and my planned walk to the public park became instead a tentative totter to the retail park and back.  My growing list of empathic experiences now includes a glimspe into the world of frail elderly people who are perforce housebound in icy weather.  I am sure it is good for me to learn all this empathy... but all at once?!

Fortunately I have adequately stocked cupboards (not the reason for my destination!), a cauldron of soup bubbling away in the kitchen and plenty of stuff to read, watch to listen to in my cosy flat.

I'm just glad I don't need to move my car as you could hold a curling match on the car park...

My challenge for next week... tidy up my MPhil submission so that I can get it formally into the 'system' before entering the 'forest' at the start of February.

Among the reasons for this is a secret desire to be able graduate alongside my bestest minister friend who is submitting her PhD at around the same time to the same university.  It'd be quite nice for the NB(L)C Class of 2003 to have the two of us celebrating together methinks.

I have completed one university qualification in each decade of my adult life, assuming my forties would see this reach its conclusion as I was scheduled to complete my doctorate in 2012.  Maybe now it's the MPhil in the forties with the possibilty of the PhD in my fifties...?

Is the limiting factor perhaps how many letters can fit on the church noticeboard?!