My early morning alarm call today came courtesy of a large crane manoeuvring itself onto the site next door.  It has arrived to lift the roof trusses onto the first of the new houses, a process that is fascinating to watch (well I  think it is!).  Once the first one was in place - a process that took quite a bit of time to achieve - it seems to be more-or-less plain sailing with successive trusses being lifted and located in a couple of minutes.

This little pair of semis will have, by the looks of things, around 20 roof trusses spanning them, compared with the 5 that served the enormous barn that was the chapel.  Victorians are usually credited with over-engineering - think of the bridges they built that have few problems with contemporary traffic, compared with those built in the 50's and 60's - but not it seems on church roof structures.

As I have watched the process, I found myself wondering how they got the trusses onto the old chapel - no crane, no hydraulics, and massive spans to be bridged.  It serves to add to the wonder of ancient cathedrals that they were built without the kind of equipment we now take for granted... and it makes me wonder how many people were killed or permanently maimed in their construction.

It's good to see the new houses growing quickly, to see future homes taking shape and to see the land preparing to serve its local community in ways our forebears wouldn't have imagined!

Yesterday I had a phone call from Ecclesiastical Insurance (the parent company of Baptist Insurance) asking if they could arrange to come and inspect our premises - which they knew were closed.  So I told them they were sold and demolished and that we'd notified the insurers and had a rebate.  'Oh' they said.  This reminded me I needed to contact the insurers to reduce our 'content's cover now that the communion table has been reduced to firewood and the throne rehomed.  'Wow,' the man said, 'that's the second call about this policy in 10 minutes.'  It seems the inspector had been in touch to check up already.  Now whether this means D+1 and D+300 are due for repeat visits in the near future, I don't know... but be warned!

Today I managed to drown my 8 year-old computer mouse in tea.  It has served me well but this mini-tannin-rich-tsunami was one thing too many.  It recovered enough to scroll left and right but up and down, no way, no how.  So a trip to my local independent computer shop and now I have a shiny new optical mouse sitting proudly on a BMS mousemat (the BUGB one is still trying to dry out from its (affusion) baptism in tea).  As to whether the new mouse will serve me as well as its predecessor, who knows?  And I won't tell the insurers or H&S that I have mugs of tea on my computer table... probably contravenes goodness knows how many directives.

Some months back, a minister friend and I independently found ourselves thinking of dandelion clocks in relation to my little church, and more especially, my role within it nearing its completion.

It is an image/metaphor that has been helpful, as I have pondered God's Ruach blowing gently to disperse the seeds for another season's growth.

In the last couple of weeks I have been decluttering and offering all manner of goodies to other ministers, churches and groups... today I sent off a list to be circulated round EMBA!  I have been quite specific in my guidelines, that items are for use not shoving in a cupboard 'just in case.'  It has a bit of a dandelion clock feel about it... I release these 'seeds' of potential, a pack of shiny card here, a badminton kit there, a games compendium somewhere else... and people I won't ever meet can be touched by love of God in places I will never go or know.  That doesn't make me special or holy or kind, rather it is just the seeds sown in me reaching harvest themselves.  I recall with gratitude those who gave me things, did things for me, taught me skills and above all modelled Christ...

Blow, wind of God

Carry the dandelion seeds of hope.

Near or far,

Let them take root

And grow.

Bringing joy

Love

Laughter

Life

Amen

I was talking to someone over the weekend about some university changes that impact on my research work and through which I am trying to navigate/negotiate a workable route alongside a geopraphical move.

"It all sounds very worthy and very boring," she said "I'd far rather be at the coal face."  When I pointed out I am at the 'coal face' as well and that's the whole point of practical theology she dismissed the whole field as "not proper theology, just a load of unreflected experience."  Her final comment, when I said that Moltmann asserted all good theology is ultimately practical theology was "pah, you'd never see him on a pastoral cycle."  Maybe not, but I was left with a lovely mental image on him on a bicycle!

It's a good job tongue-biting is on my list of competencies.

How does one win, I wondered.  Practical theology does indeed need some sustained theoretical work, which is precisely what I am trying to do - even if it is deemed 'boring' and 'not practical' albeit 'worthy' - but a lot of theorists deem it 'improper.'

As I pondered the comments, and the likely underlying reasons, I concluded that one of the problems of practical theology is that, alas, a lot of stuff is peddled under this banner that perhaps isn't really theology (as one of its advocates, Stephen Pattison would, I suspect, readily concede) and a lot of people who don't 'get it' cheerfully throw out the baby with the bathwater.  All of which makes my 'worthy and boring' foray into the theorectical aspects of a practical field all the more pertinent I guess.

Just maybe this gives me the kick up the backside I need to continue at a point where exit routes appear especially attractive (not least as they offer more letters for less work!!)

Why when you have only a few weeks left of a pastorate does

• someone tell you that last week's service broke through twenty years of denial/suppression of an issue in their life?
• someone start coming to church who needs massive levels of skilled support and care?
• someone with recurring mental health problems move closer to a 'flip' phase?
• someone get ill and another one injured?

Why when you ought to be putting things down and unwinding is there a sudden surge of serious stuff to deal with?

Then I thought

• maybe the person who has been in denial will now find opportunity for a new beginning
• maybe the new person will find the acceptance they need, and the church discover inner strength to cope with their needs
• maybe the mental health issues will be a trigger for greater interdependence?
• actually illness and injury are just part of everyday life

I recall thinking several months back, there's never a good time to leave, always a reason to delay and stay longer... but maybe leaving when there's a lot for people to get stuck into is a good thing?

Why now?  Perhaps because now this little church is able to cope in a way it wouldn't have been before.