A death

Last night the second of our two cats had to be put to sleep. The first had a serious heart condition that led to her eventual death (by injection) in early June. The wee thing hadn't eaten for several days and was looking scrawny and unable to get to food bowl or litter tray. Chicken hearted I sent my husband to the vet with her, and she already has a bush covered plot within the garden.

When I arrived home last night to find the heating on in an already hot house, the second cat appeared to be lounging in the hall. However when I passed her a second time I noticed that she hadn't moved and that her back legs looked wrong. On investigation it became apparent that she could no longer move her back legs. Again my husband took her to the vet, and we knew she would not come home alive. She had the same heart condition, but unfortunately had a blood clot which had stopped the blood going to her legs. It was only a matter of time before she would have been in a huge amount of pain.

The children have taken the loss of our family pets well, and tonight we will say another farewell in the garden, and this time plant some apple trees to mark their place of rest.

However this morning I don't feel very brave.

The cats came to live with us long before the arrival of children and in the months following my first escapade with a DVT and pulmonary embolisms. In the midst of the depression that followed my brush with immortality they were companions in the house when others had to be at work, and over the years have been faithful companions around the house when preparing for worship or funerals.

They were not overly demanding companions, but good company and listening ears that didn't make unnecessary response when you needed a rant.

I know that part of my bereftness is not just the missing of the companionship, but also the acknowledgement that I've survived 15 years that in the midst of one August week it looked like I might never have. I am truly thankful for the journey that two feline friends have walked with me.

"The Shack"

The Reading Group at the church have asked that I read a book and attend their November meeting. In the early days of the reading group I attended regularly and more often than not lead the group. The selection of books has been quite diverse over the 2 years it has been running for. They started with "Friday and Robinson", then moved to "The Testament of Gideon Mack", "The Memory Keeper's Daughter", "The Island", Barack Obama's books - really quite a diverse selection. However the more recent meetings have quite happily happened without me, allowing me to head off to meetings.

However November sees them discuss "The Shack" by William Young. For some reason they feel they need my opinion on it. I'm not sure why as this is a group that contains some very theological literate folk.

I've done as I was told and read the book, and now am leaving it a couple of weeks before re-reading it for the right night.

To be honest I'm not sure what to think of it. I quite like some of the imagery. I like the notion of the character of the Holy Spirit as someone that you can't quite catch sight of when you look head on. I like the relational nature between the three parts of the Trinity.

The multi-racial depiction of the separate parts of God was a great idea, however it didn't disturb me. So while the lead character of the book "Mack" is to be disturbed from his preconceived notions of God, I felt I had mine confirmed.

I didn't like the schmalzy, sentimentality. I found the story to easily resolved.

Perhaps another read through will offer more food for thought, and maybe I'll use a pencil to mark the more poignant or frustrating passages.

Thankfully this evening this sermon was finished early, thus allowing a more restful afternoon and thoughts of a quiet Sunday afternoon and what we could do as a family. Makes a change from the normal flypast of a weekend.

Getting the juices going

It's a struggle this week to think of where to start with the sermon.

I've an idea to start with couthy, Fife phrases - thanks to Nik in August. I too have a "Little Book of Calvin", which while I find them amusing, for me carry too much resonance of familiarity. With Fife parentage, and a one-time charge in the area, I recognise these phrases as something people genuinely say.

Phrases like:
"If ye dinnae stop yir greetin, Eh'll gie ye something tae greet aboot"
"Dinnae complain. It's better than a skelp ower the fais wi a wet kipper."
"If it didnae hurt it wiznae worth doing"

Folk have said these things to me. Maybe not just my parents, but grandparents and congregation members.

These phrases all came flurrying to mind along with others as I read the Lectionary texts this week. In thinking about why, it is the sheer honesty of what the Scriptures offer the reader this week.

In Proverbs, these three sets of words are combined because they share the thought of valuing others and generosity above the love of wealth. While in the Gospel we are challenged with the honesty of women in her encounter with Jesus. As part of God's wonderful creation, how can their not be a place for her. Then finally in James, there is the reminder that Christian faith is inclusive and honest.

One of my frustrations about my present congregation is the lack of honesty - not that they are deceitful. But it is difficult to know what they are thinking, where they feel God is leading them, how they want to live out their Christian faith in our community. These are tough questions to answer I know. However sometimes I long for some good Fife honesty - a slap in the face with a wet kipper - that gets straight to the point, lets you know where you are, and then you get on with the task that the people of God have set for you.

Big fearty that I am, there's probably not a chance I'm going to say tomorrow morning "Stop hiding behind you mask of societal norms for this area", but I can dream. Hmmm... where to start...

Amazing Women

From time to time my former session clerk likes to encourage me in my reading and offers helpful suggestions and passes books for me to read. Before the summer holidays he handed me a copy of "Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers found the Hidden Gospels" by Janet Soskice.

Now I'm not a big fan of books written by academics. They often seem dry, lacking in humour, and the extra details that bring things to life. Because of that I save them for morning reading in a chair in broad daylight, that I might better take in the gist of what I am being told.

However "Sisters of Sinai" has been a fabulous read. As well as offering an opportunity to find out about the history of the Codex Sinaiticus, I've been enthralled by the lives of two sisters in the late 19th century.

Truly amazing women, they adventured across the Middle East at a time when travel was more difficult and fairly unusual for women to undertake on their own. Each journey carefully prepared for with knowledge of languages that might be helpful, and ensuring they understood the cultural contexts into which they were travelling. There were humourous moments when Janet Soskice spoke of their exercise regimes and cast verbal pictures if parallel bars in gardens and ropes hung from ceilings in the home. All of the work that these women did underscored by their faith in God, and their desire to engage more in the understanding of the Bible and Ancient texts.

This moved from day-time reading to night time relaxation as I wondered what they would do next.

Amazing women have filled church congregations for years. Women who encouraged people to play their part in the faiths they led. Women who seemed to sit on the sidelines, but really their careful work in the Gospel name often went unnoticed.

In my last charge, there was a formidable woman who didn't really approve of women ministers but was determined that she would try to work with me. For my first nine months she often seemed awkward, organising me, telling me where I was going wrong, worrying that I might want to run the Guild, borrowing me to give her a lift to Edinburgh (I was going anyway). Sadly Jenny died suddenly. She was found sitting in a chair in her home by a neighbour. She had just celebrated a successful income from the Guild Sale of Work. It was only after Jenny's death that the congregation realised what an amazing woman she had been. There were lots of little things that suddenly stopped happening because Jenny was no longer there to do them. It took a while to gather all the threads and organise others to take on these role.

But thank God for amazing people in congregations, who often want no credit for what they do, but carefully work away that the faith they have in Jesus Christ might be passed on to others.

Frustration

For several months now there have been complaints about the provisions for young people around the church. A number of families have hit a stage where there are other activities that are more exciting than coming to church. Of course I'm more than aware that sitting listening to an adult talking about God is not always very exciting.

Over the last year I've made various attempts to change the situation with requests made of the Sunday School Superintendent to try new things. There is a desire to hang on to the old ways of two teachers-one class for continuity. But I'm not so convinced of this if you don't get the same children each week anyway. Most of these requests for trying change have been ignored or fallen on deaf ears, and finally in June there was a mass voice of parents who made a clear statement that things were not good.

Trying not to hurt the Sunday School Superintendent I thought we would try a new tack. We are in the process of moving to a new committee structure that encourages more of the congregation to be part of the organisational life of the church. We have a fairly successful education team which includes the Sunday School Superintendent. The thought had been to invite some of these parents onto that group that they might have a voice and an opportunity to change things. To date all of those parents who have been asked to be involved have said no.

I find myself caught in the middle - a Sunday School Superintendent who thinks I'm making it up because nobody complains to her and yet less and less children come - and a set of parents who want a place for their children but don't want to say what they think to the people who could change things or be part of a potential solution.

Of course my frustration is heightened by the fact that it is Friday evening and I'm no closer to the sermon. I have an idea though but not sure how to start.

The whole notion of "Shekinah" seems a good place to start. The motion of the in-dwelling of God, and the temple in which he expands beyond to touch lives. I'm also feeling drawn to the inclusivity that is found in both the OT and the Gospel, as they suggest that God is for more than those who claim faith.

So I have thoughts, ribs upon which to build. I just need to find the doorway in.

Have a Word

For the first time in a long time I have some help with the work I do. Compared to my first charge I often think I have less to do, but in reality it is just that many of the things I now do are very different from the past. In a past life, much of what I did happened in daylight hours. In this life, there are very few free evenings, as there are more younger people who work and meetings take place when they are available.

It's only been a few weeks of this new situation, however today I have had to take myself aside and and have words about letting go of some of the things I am used to just getting on with. The other person is more than capable of many of the things I do.

This morning my thoughts were to share one of the things I have been doing alone for much of the summer, but on reflection there will be a phone call tomorrow morning to readjust what was said, and an opportunity for the other to have the opportunity to lead the more informal service.

I'm not sure why I wanted to hang on to the experience and share (other than that underlying they are my people and I need to do this) as in the holidays I happily walk away and leave another completely in charge.

But I've had a word with myself. It probably won't be the last time this year.

Breaking Windows

I'm not preaching this week, although I'm still doing the prayers at the second service. This means that I will get out of looking at bread again - hooray! The person who is preaching appears to be looking at wisdom, so I look forward to hearing someone new.

Our first service is a church family service, and it tends not to follow the patterns of traditional worship. This summer we have played ball games during the service; we've investigated bags and guessed what was inside them and we've done the hokey cokey (I'm now considering writing a hymn to the tune because the congregation sang it better than they sing any hymn.)

This week my theme is broken windows, and I'm trying to work through that image as a play out for worship. I'm thinking about having windows with images of things that are "broken" in our world and community, and then having stained glass colours with pictures of ways we can help on them to be stuck around the windows as symbols of how we might help as a church.

However my worry is I do not want the "how faith might play a part in the various situations" to be viewed as a sticking plaster solution.

I'm also wondering if I'm heading in the wrong direction with the broken window image. Perhaps instead I should be suggesting that we need to break a few windows that we might get out in the community and play our part.

Fortunately it is only Tuesday, so I can have a few more thoughts yet before the practical work of putting it together happens. Although hymns to pick...