I have been watching Celebrity Masterchef over recent weeks and have been fascinated, amused and entertained.  As I recall it, in one of the heats, Christine Hamilton observed that hell would freeze over before she got to the final.  Last night she was named as a finalist.  In which case Old Nick must be afraid, very afraid.  I should that be was afraid?  Afterall it's all recorded ages before it appears and the miraculaous healings that occur to burned and cut hands indicate how long really elapses between the 'days'.  So has hell already frozen over?  And is the Evil One left ice skating on some weird kind of ice?  All very daft, but it entertained me - and made me eager for her to progress to check out her prophetic and thautmaturgical credentials!! Yup, I finally flipped.

BUGB e-news sweep tells me today is left-handers day.  So follow the link to celebrate my day with me!

This afternoon I went out pastoral visiting.  Nothing especially amazing about that, you say.  Indeed not.  Except that it is one area of pastoral ministry I perceive myself to be especially bad at.  I know all the theory of how to do it, why to do, when to do it, but it still fills me with a sense of dread that I am rubbish at small talk and not that hot at bedside/fireside prayers (though many genuinely seem to appreciate both).  Recently I was talking with a couple of other ministers who share this sense of inadequacy, albeit for different reasons.  Some of it, we concluded was down to personality (my Myers Briggs 'I' as distinct from 'E' being one they identified), some of it down to self imposed pressure to be 'useful' (i.e. a need to have answers to questions or practical skills to offer), some of it just down to the fact that we all dread fouling up and some, if we are honest, because it can be flipping hard work talking to people who offer monosyllabic answers to open questions, have no books, photos, ornaments, pets or other cues to start conversations, have 'difficult' personalities or homes worthy of a TV series on domestic hygiene*...

And yet...

And yet, so often when I do the visits I'm sure it is me who is blessed.  Blessed by the grace and humility of people who allow me to share their frailty and vulnerability.  Blessed by people who grant me the privilege of seeing them at their lowest points and to share in significant life-events.  Blessed by the wisdom of age.  Blessed by the generosity of spirit.  Blessed despite the flea bites or dodgy tea that has unpleasant side effects (you learn when to decline!!).  Blessed by smiles and tears.  Blessed to be the hands and feet of Christ.  Blessed to allow Christ in others to reach me.

Today I enjoyed wonderful conversation, was well fed and watered in a comfortable and friendly home and shared a moment of meaningful prayer.  It is somehow in God's grace that when we do the things we find hard we are blessed... and by God's grace our best is good enough.

*Such extremes are rare but they do exist (at least they do in England!)

Yesterday my new Traidcraft catalogue arrived, as ever brim full of lovely items to persuade me to part with my money.  Amiong them was this new item, the twin doll. The idea is that you pay for two dolls (total £16) and one of them is sent to you, the other goes to a child in Zimbabwe whose life is affected by HIV.  In an age when few people knit or sew, and when food miles and carbon footprints are all the rage, this seems a great alternative to more traditional approaches.

For those who do knit, I learned yesterday of teddies for tragedies, a charity some folk at church knit for.   I have known quite a few people over the years who have knitted bears for various good causes at home and overseas, bringing smiles and sharing love.  A few 'knit and natter' type groups do exactly this kind of thing.

Recently I have been pondering what might be suitable 'church gifts' for babies brought for blessing/dedication and am quite attracted by the principle of the twin dolls whereby one is given to the child we bless and another blesses a child we'll never meet.  I wonder what others think?

I have had two different friends to stay recently, each of whom told me they were glad I was here to interpret the speech of shop assistants.  I have another couple of friends dropping in next week and they have been warned not to make such comments - for goodness sake this is the west of Glasgow it's hardly a strong accent.  The response of the latest was, 'yes, but you're half Scottish anyway.'  I'm not, not really, though my Mum periodically claims to be a Scot, and I'm told the SNP define a Scot as 'someone who chooses to live in Scotland' (does 'someone God sent/brought to Scotland' count?!).

Anyway, to my lovely Scots and Scottish (my Mum regularly reminds of the distinction 'people are Scots, things are Scottish' but it seems lost in much general speech) friends and neighbours I apologise for my sassenach friends.  Although I do know someone who tells me they can't always understand Estuary English and another who claims an inability to comprehend Geordies... maybe it evens out?