Company

For the last few months I've been sharing my ministry with someone from overseas. While they are already ordained, they are required by the church to undergo a familiarisation process. I've been quite enjoying it, although it is harder work than I expected.

The benefits have definitely been in the challenge it has offered to reflect upon by own ministry, style of worship, and practice of care. The last few months have seen my shake of lethargic tendencies, and have meant that I've upped a gear on the preparation for worship.

In some ways that sounds awful, as it suggests I wasn't working before. However that was not the case. Just sometimes when everything else caves in a week, preparation for worship can become the last minute things and on occasion remembering the words of a one-time supervisor - "what's the point of preparing drivel when someone has taken time and imagination" - has been important.

However having a companion has inspired me to be creative. I've rediscovered a thirst for reading, and have found some fascinating things, some of which have translated nicely into recent preaching. It has also made me question again some of our more peculiar practices. Do they speak of God, or are they just a comfort?

I've also rediscovered the congregation. It's good to see them through other peoples' eyes, and to then ask the questions that you ask at the beginning of a relationship again. Who are they? Why are they here? What is important to them?

The disadvantages are also prevalent. Extra work, and spending late evenings catching up on the small things that enable you to get by. Keeping the jealousy in check - might they like the other person more than me? And unfulfilled expectations in the other person.

At this late stage in a very short period of time, the advantages have far outweighed the disadvantages. In the run up to Christmas it is good to have someone to share the load with and hopefully the opportunity to still have a voice in January.

Losing a Friend

I've not been blogging for a few weeks, partly because the many tasks to be accomplished each day have been slightly more than usual, and partly because emotionally there have been some tough times recently. In the midst of those emotions it was important to retreat into the safe place within, so that the caring professional could stand to the front.

There are a number of people with varying kinds of cancers at varying stages, a good number of whom I would count as friends. At the beginning of the year, I thought that by this stage in the year I would have lost a good number of them through death. My thoughts haven't entirely happened, although there has been a loss of three from that group - two within the last month. These three deaths and their respective funerals have been tough. I've been here too long now to not care about the people involved. It is no longer (if it ever was) the loss of the life that matters, but instead the impact onto the close family and into congregational life. As the families have laughed and cried, some of the stories told I now share and know, for my family and the church family are entwined into the framework of who the people were.

The last of the three was particularly difficult (and I would question whether a funeral is ever easy). The lady involved was an elder, part of the group who were involved in calling me. She has cared for one or both of my children, ensured that my house was painted, sorted out my garden so the pram could get in, and become very much part of our family life. For the last three years she has known that death was coming, and particularly this year has been aware that these last few months were her last. And because of that she has set herself goals to live to - enjoying a 70th birthday party and a wedding - and then feeling that every day after these goals was a gift she didn't expect.

Her living so openly with death has allowed many people to tell her of how precious she was to them, and how her living had touched their lives. Unlike some people, she died in full knowledge that she was loved.

She was always immensely organised. She has had a funeral prepared since 1998, and so on her death I was handed a ready prepared order of service - seven hymns over two services with all the readings that were precious to her and spoke of her faith. A good friend of hers prepared a tribute for me to work with and then read. All I had to do really was to prepare prayers, and something meaningful and thoughtful for the family and close friends at the committal.

All funerals are tough, yet this has been particularly tough for I said goodbye to a friend and a confidante. I always knew the longer you stayed somewhere the tougher it became, but this was the first time it has been apparent just how tough.

However while I miss her, I also know she would have been the first person the day after to say "okay, lets get on" - and so we do. Although I'm not sure who is cutting the ribbon and the foil ready for Christingle making, or who will make the cheese scones. Meanwhile she continues to make us laugh as friends left with memories of her - for if there is a physical place called heaven then she has already rearranged the cupboards and organised everything into Tupperware boxes. And in her breaks she's standing at the gates taking in the scene and chatting to Peter, with her fly cigarette in hand.

A Young, Female Thing

It is funny how our parish and presbytery situations colour our view of the church, and those we share the task of ministry with. I've been in ministry for 13 years and ordained for 11 and a half, and in that time I have just assumed that as I have got older I must now be of an equivalent age to a good number of ministers across Scotland. I celebrated my 40th birthday this year, and no longer felt I could claim I was young. My parish situation means that I am colleagues with a number of women who are of a similar age to me. Many of my friends in ministry are of a similar age, if not gender, to me.

Yet today I was at a consultation day for an area of work that I'm presently involved in, and I felt like a child. There were only two women there, and I was the youngest in the room by at least 10 years.

I had to have a word with myself before eating lunch, as when I had arrived in the room earlier in the day I had resorted to my introvert state of looking at all these grey haired men, and seeing myself as someone with nothing to contribute and knowing that they would have all the answers. When I returned to the room to eat, I enjoyed the chat I had with two of my colleagues and finding out more about them and their situations.

However just as I hoped I might grow up one day, I find I am still a young thing. So maybe I still have plenty opportunity to be outrageous and put some of my more subversive thoughts into action. Although I'm sure the church will continue to make them mainstream, as it accommodates outrageous reformation.

Writing weddings

For only the second time in 11 years, I'm sharing a wedding in November. It takes place in my church, and tomorrow I am meeting with the other minister to agree who does what. While I enjoy the sharing practice when we eventually get there, I'm always slightly concerned about the who gets the ball rolling preparation. I'm not very good at meetings where there is not a a small piece of pre-prep for haggling over. However I'm also conscious that sometimes one person's pre-prep often stops the other person being creative.

These are trivial things to worry about, but helpful diversions from other things at the moment.

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...