threescore

I am thinking of not dobbing in four year tens from my school who I saw playing football in the park before 3:00 this afternoon. In all honesty, more was probably achieved by all concerned (and their respective classes) by their absence from lessons and they did at least keep their uniforms on.

However, this is now in the public domain. Should any of the parents contact me, I would not deny seeing their sons taking extra-curricular PE in the beautiful weather, right next to the ice-cream stall.

I got married in the church I grew up in. It is a family church with people of various ages and backgrounds. Some people have sad stories and some people have happy stories and there are many stories of changed lives. My dad has been very involved in the leadership for some time at the church. My mum has been very involved in the music. I grew up valuing the children’s and youth work and it set me on a trajectory of hope and purpose.  

This weekend ‘my old church’ celebrates its 200th anniversary. None of the members can claim to have been present for even half that time (although you wonder, occasionally). Today we had a shared meal and a barn dance. Tomorrow there will be special church services. There has been a flower festival and there will be an article in the local paper.

Here’s the thing. The guest of honour mentioned that the church has been operating for about 10% of the life of the Church. That made me think. I have been connected with it for roughly 10% of the time it has been going. A lot has happened in that time, and that is only about 1% of the time of the history of the Church. The older you get, the more recent history becomes.

I wrestle with churcheology and with religiosity and with knowing God personally as my Lord and Saviour.  I have a nostalgia for things of ‘my old church’ for good reason, but would be loathe to see it become a mutual appreciation society which loses the plot. I would hate to see a place and a family I love so much become something alien to God’s purpose and love for the world. The fantastic thing is that it is not. A slice of the history of the church belongs there and underneath all the present stories are lives changed and still being changed by truth and God’s love.

The best testimony you can have for faith is broken people being mended. I see many lives touched by ‘my old church’ which are mended over days, months, sometimes many years. I am broken. I am being mended daily. It is all part of the continuing story.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

But if it is?

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of allnothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

I love this poem by e.e. cummings and thought today was a good day to post it.

My daughter is singing and blowing raspberries into my arm. Thank you God.

(Ben Witherington has a funny post today - see the side bar).

I was checking my old friend multimap.com earlier today to find my way to a baby signing group, and discovered by entering my postcode that not only can I view my house in map format (up to a very close ratio) and view a grainy satellite view (with or without road labels), but I can now take a bird’s-eye view, looking North, South, East, or should I feel like it, West.

And I’m not talking skylark view here. This is full swoop pigeon’s-eye view, or sparrow’s, if you choose to face South (in my postcode’s case) and view the property from the garden.

[Why do some birds stay roadside and some gardenside?]

I feel it has all gone too far. I looked at where I live and discovered, depending on the Chosen Direction, that I could summon the cars of Christmases past in various arrangements. One view (North) included a Fiesta that belonged to my parents a while ago. At least two views have the boy’s old sports car (sold in July 2006), but East clearly shows the Smarter new option. And there is No Sign of the University. What can I say?

Be warned - not every postcode does this. You can breathe a sigh of relief if you live in the sticks, in any county in England or Wales. By the time the aerial photography plane reaches you, you will be on to the next car I wager.

Anyway, the place I was looking for was too hard to find this way, so I just drove in the general direction and found it regardless.

William Shakespeare would have been 444 today, if he hadn’t died. But only in decimal.

I will be 11111 next month, but only in binary.

I do not have a flag to wave on this auspicious day, but I have noted how English it all is outside today - the rain is out, the road has fallen through and there is a traffic cone on the pavement opposite for no good reason. My post arrived at midday, milk went up 4p this morning and I wasn’t well enough to go to my hospital physio this morning. Neither did I have enough cash for the parking there. I am in fact reasonably pleased that dragons have not featured in my day to this point. I suppose if one did I’d have to hurry out and buy a red and white flag to wave at it to make it go away. Nasty dragons, coming over here taking our milk, breaking our roads and holding up the posties. It all makes one feel like a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

I meant to put up some photos here this week, but have struggled to upload them to t’internet since wordpress changed the internal workings of the blogs. I will talk to a man who Understands these things and normal blogging will hopefully resume soon. In the meantime, please hum a pleasant tune to yourself and count daffodils.

And, on average, the crew were boys last Sunday. With a baby, priorities do change somewhat.

Yesterday we had another exciting adventure in the story of Lily. We went to see two uncles, two aunts, two Sarahs, four alpacas, six goats, a number of chickens including a scary rooster called Admiral and a fox. We managed the whole day in real nappies. Not me, Lily.

I am thinking I need a daily routine, but when she is busy meeting so many people and travelling around, sleeps and feeds aren’t so easy to maintain. Maybe I’m too laid back. In the past I probably cared about which was the pestle and which was the mortar, but now I’m just happy if they are used to make interesting and/or junior cuisine c/o Lily’s daddy and uncle. Maybe I did know and forgot.

To kick-start my brain back I have decided to reinforce my NT Greek reading, by joining a local group. I am the youngest member and rely on my interlinear still, but have to say the academic social scene is just what I’ve been missing. If weaning continues to be a success I may get to the next few meetings on my own. It would make a change from just philosophising.

I didn’t have to worry really - the service went ok this morning. I finished preparing at midnight (or 1:00?), and fed Lily at 1:00 (or 2:00?) and got up again a few hours later. Next time I preach I’ll remember not to have a baby 4 months beforehand.

In regional news, a team of rowers from a local university came second in a tournament in London. Well done, boys!

I am preaching on Sunday about worry, from a passage which claims that the lilies of the field do not labour or spin.

Here is my dramatic spin on it.

Jobcentre employee

Red, a carnation

Red is sitting in a vase on a table. The Jobcentre employee arrives with a clipboard and glasses on. Throughout she emphasizes the syllables in bold, fiddles with a pen and gestures with both hands on the nouns. She is slightly nasal.

She shakes a leaf with the flower.

J:          Hello? Hello, are you here for the 11:00 appointment? Pleased to meet you. So, you are [looking at notes] Red. May I call you Red?

R:         [silent]

J:          Good. My name is Bredwina [adjusts glasses] and I’ll be your employment advisory consultant today. We usually start with a quick interview to ascertain your [“”] skills-and-qualifications and to really just see what kind of position you are looking for.

R:         [silent]

J:          Ok. So, I see from your CV that you have experience in the field. What field, can I ask, have you got experience in? [peers at Red]

R:         [silent]

J:          And is that local? [pretends to write on clipboard]

R:         [silent]

J:          Yes. And would you be able to get references?

R:         [silent]

J:          Now I need to know, have you got any transferable [“”] skills-and-qualifications which we can write on the next part of the application form, anything at all Red? Any experience with people? Telephone skills? Using computers? Management? [pause] None of those? Ok.

R:         [silent]

J:          Would you say, that you have any work-related, transferable, national or vocational, educational, informational or qualificational skills at all at this present moment in time? [pause] You don’t. That means we skip [turns pages] section 3b, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and up to 17 and jump to section 18a. [calls] Code 18a!

R:         [silent]

J:          So, Red, what kind of position are you looking for?

R:         [silent]

J:          Mmm, mmm, mmm. [ticking boxes] And would you say that you are free to begin employment as of Monday? [looks up] You would. And do you have a licence for Heavy Goods Vehicles? [looks up] You don’t. And are you prepared to work shifts? [looks up] No. Ok. Let me just bring up the positions available today on the computer screen. Let’s see. [taps] No. No. No. No. Can you travel any distance from home? No.

R:         [silent]

J:          Well, I have to say Red, that we don’t seem to have anything that is cut out for you today. I believe that we will have more positions in chimney sweeping in the near future so if you would like to keep in touch with the office here, you know where we are. Thank you Red. [calls] Next!

 NOTHING is so beautiful as spring—

 When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;

 Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring

 The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

  The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush

  The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush

 With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?

 A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning

In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,

 Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,

Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,

Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

This was on the radio earlier today and because I like GMH and because I like Spring and because I am supposed to be writing a sermon and not doing this, here it is.