Easters past, present at for the future!

Before I was ordained in 1990, I had great problems with feet.  Not that my feet were causing me concern, nor did I not appreciate the value of all they did for me in getting me around – I just didn’t like looking at naked feet.   Whether it be my own feet, or other people’s feet - for me feet were and are a big turnoff.

So you can imagine my horror when, at my first Maundy Thursday service as an ordained person, my Rector, David James, insisted I got involved with the ancient foot washing ceremony of the day.  Every year since then I have been involved in the annual foot washing ceremony washing small feat, big feet, old feet, young feet, clean feet, other feet I was not quite so sure of. 

One thing that I have always held dear to my Christian faith is that of not being judgemental, and that most certainly applies to people’s feet.

And then there was worse, just as I thought the ceremony was over David said to me get you shoes and socks off now it’s your turn. Other people touching my feet – never!   In any case my feet are far too sensitive and they tickle oh so easily. But that was not to be, down I sat, she was off, socks off, and then my feet washed by someone else.

And over those years God has been wonderfully selective in who he has chosen to wash my feet – often people I have had difficulties with.

Over the years I have not grown to like feet any better, but I have come to appreciate the privilege of seeing this act as a symbol of service, as a Christian, as a Deacon and as a Priest, reminding us as it does of Jesus demonstrating to his disciples (and to us) his ministry as One who has come to serve!

The Maundy Thursday foot washing would be followed with a period of prayer and a vigil. Indeed join my curacy years at Wollaton, the vigil went on all night. The night was divided into hours, one hour would be time for quiet private prayer, reading, and reflection, and the next hour for some corporate activity. I remember that we read Beckett one year and other years we have some music to appreciate – I remember doing a session on First World War Poetry.  This commitment seems to have dwindled over the years and an over the last few years after the foot washing no one at all has stopped behind in church.

Good Friday has seen me involved in a variety of activities – from being involved with, and a couple of years leading, the three hour service from noon until 3 o’clock in the afternoon. I have been on a variety of walks – in Rainworth and Blidworth we used to walk from Rainworth Church to St Andrews Mission Hall and then on to St Mary’s Church; and at each place would be some act of worship and some food. I was so pleased to see that Churches Together in Rainworth and Blidworth now do something very similar, but including more of the churches.

During my time at Ollerton and Boughton, Churches Together have organised a “Walk of Witness” from the Methodist Church via the street corner outside the Co-op, and St Paulinus’ Church, and Lifespring Pentecostal Church.   I have thoroughly enjoyed these and feel they have been wonderful acts of witness – and that is something I don’t think I would have said before moving to Ollerton!  The proceedings would end up with Coffee and hot cross buns either at Lifespring or our church.

In the evening we would have a more reflective service – Tenebrae (a moving service of candles being extinguished), or some other reflective style of worship.  Apart from the walk of witness in Ollerton, I feel Good Friday numbers have really dwindled, and we all seem to have got caught up in the way of the world.  I had hoped to watch something suitable for Good Friday on television yesterday, but there was nothing at all on, and I ended up watching Hattie Jacques in “Carry on Matron” and fell asleep!  (I love the Carry On films)

For me over the years, Saturday the day before Easter, was always a day of getting ready for the big day on Sunday. But there were always people who insisted on having the Easter Eve service in the evening, with the bringing in of the new light - the light of Christ.  From a very large numbers, these have dwindled right off and last year there were only four or five of us on a bitterly cold April evening.

 

The season of Easter today has always been a day of great joy and celebration.   We find it so much easier to celebrate, and it is right and proper we do so when we have carefully followed our Lord step by step through Holy Week.

I find myself often asking the question (more often in recent times) as to what it would have been like to have been there - standing at the foot of the Cross, walking in the garden early on that first Easter Day.  How would I have reacted?  What would I have said?  What would I have done next would I have run away?  Can I believe what I am seeing? 

 

Surprisingly, at least in my eyes, all this makes so much more sense as I continue to grapple with cancer.  It's the only conclusion I can come with as I look back on all God has done for me, and for others. Jesus' death and resurrection was for me, and for you, to make sense of our earthly lives, and to make then "other worldly". 

 

For me, my continual call to priesthood over many years, even through one "failed" selection conference; my journey from the cosy comfy world of Banking (well it was then!) to the challenging and exciting world of being a priest; and as I sought through prayer to see what God had in store for me next.

So where is all this leading to?

True to my title I have rambled on about Holy Week, Good Friday and Easter, but what are we to make of it all.

One of my sons unfortunately can’t get to grips with the religious aspect of Easter – and I do empathise with him, everso slightly.

So often we try to compartmentalise our lives and our experiences. For example many will be going to a football match this afternoon – I know of at least one bishop who will!  Is that wrong? Is that unholy?  No of course it’s not.

Others will have gone away for a few days – holiday with friends and loved ones, fun, recreation –re-creation in God’s image?  Is that wrong - no of course not.

Rather we should take the totality of our experiences, those we call “holy” and those we label “secular” and put them all together.

Life is all about these “Good Fridays and Easter Days”.  Life out of death, light found in and through and beyond the darkness,  and in our human experiences the loss of youth, the loss of your credit card (I lost mine this week in the house – only for it to be found!) the loss of a friend/friendship or the loss of a loved one, estrangement from someone, loss of your health, the day your children leave home, the loss of your job, the loss of your independence – and so the list could go on.

Each of these examples are involved with the loss of something. Simply as we grow up we experience that loss through the natural process – loss of hair, loss of a slim waistline (for those who ever had one), loss of nimbleness….

But in each of these cases they are replaced – as that beautiful hymn “Amazing Grace” says ”Once I was lost but now I’m found”.

To lose something and to find/gain something – the sheer cycle of life.

Let’s not wallow in losing something, or not finding something - rather let’s celebrate - a celebration that Jesus rose from the dead for me, and for you, not in the “Holy Way” we so often try to find him in, but in the very depths of our being, in the very depths of our experiences of life.

Only once we have experienced that sense of loss, and darkness, and bleakness, will we be able to celebrate the sheer joy of finding what comes next!

Jesus Christ is risen – he is risen indeed – Alleluia!!!!!

Happy Easter!

It was on a Wednesday night....

Tonight is Wednesday in Holy Week, a week which for the past 22 years has been for me the busiest week of the year, with all the excitement, drama and stresses of following Jesus through the last days of his earthly ministry.

This year has been totally different! I decided that I wanted to go to the annual service in Southwell Minster for the renewal of vows for priests, deacons, bishops, and all those in authorised ministry.

My friend and former curate at Ollerton and Boughton Caroline came to pick me up and took me there. She pushed me with great aplomb in my wheelchair - well she is now used to pushing her 12 week old daughter, although I told her not to sing to me as we walked along, like she sings to daughter Anna!

Not only was there a total reversal of incumbent/curate role here, with me being totally reliant upon her, but after a while we met the archdeacon's wife who pushed me into the Minster - a bit like being pushed by royalty, a great privilege, but we has a great laugh!

After moving me in my wheelchair around a bit, the service began. What a pity they had the wrong hymn typed up on the order of service, and the wrong year George Herbert died - at least I don't think he died in 1963! I mention these two pieces of minutia, because things like this would often happen when I prepared services, and I would get so cross with myself.

I found the service difficult - a lack of authenticity, although I fully accept it was all coloured by the place I was in!

I struggled with the hymns; at the peace, there were people who I thought would come and share the peace with me, who didn't, including one person who was one of my church wardens at Ollerton/Boughton, for the whole of my 4 years there, and who hasn't seen me since I left last September, and who was sitting just two rows in front of me, and knew I was there.

Just after receiving Communion I poured my heart out to the Archdeacon's wife, who I had sat next to for the service, as Carline had robed up and processed! Archdeacon’s wife was an angel, a real star!

Sitting at the end of a service in Southwell Minster, as people left, I reflected long and hard, having got fed up and let down by people who came to greet me, calling me Andrew!

One priest, who I have always found arrogant, said to me after really insisting my name was Andrew "well who are you then!" I had known him for 22 years since we did Post Ordination Training together!

Whilst I concluded that I was very pleased I had come, at that moment I had not enjoyed it, and feel that the traditional established Church of England does not always practice what it preaches.

It is 23 years in June that I was ordained Deacon in that Holy Place, and since then I have served the Diocese of Southwell and Nottingham as faithfully as I can, acknowledging my failures and shortcomings as many as they are. Wednesday night, in our Cathedral Church, I felt a total stranger! (but I fully acknowledge it might be my problem)

Just at that moment when it seemed everyone had gone home, except Caroline and a few of her curate friends, the Diocesan Bishop, Paul, came round the corner to chat with me. He was, as always, wonderful, and I was able to tell him exactly how I was feeling, and how I really felt abandoned by the church, which I still love!

He just listened to me ranting on, and I was able to tell him everything that was on my mind.

He knew just the words to say (not all Diocesan Bishops do may I add).  He was so kind and understanding, without being at all patronising, which is an easy trap to fall into.

So after a considerable time I let the Bishop go only for him to be replaced by another Bishop, Bishop Tony, who was also extremely friendly.

We didn't chat for quite as long as by now it was getting late and it was obviously time for us to leave the minister as the proverbial chairs were on the tables.

I think Caroline and I were the last two people out of the minister other than the staff and I left the building on quite a high note.

Well what a spiritual rollercoaster of an evening!

The Church of England at its worst, and the Church of England at its very best.

In her sermon that evening, Canon Angela Ashwin spoke about glimpses of God in dark places.

Now that rang a bell or two for me. It's fine having all the pomp and ceremony, but that is not where we find the glimpses of God's glory.

This is what I have been banging on about all the time during my blogging, and on reflection it was great hearing it preached from the pulpit in our Cathedral church. I just hope people listened and took it in!

Once again we can't experience the sheer joy and celebration of Easter day, without the stark reality of the darkness and suffering of Good Friday.

I will post again either later today or tomorrow, and then on Easter day itself.

I do hope you have not found this post too depressing, but as Holly week has progressed I have found myself getting lower in my spirits.

I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing as it used to happen to me that when I was in full health as I grappled with the events and reflections of Holy Week.

A real Ramble!

So what was my purchase?

Well, it was a boot scooter!

Having said I would never have one, grumbled about people racing along the streets of Ollerton on one, I had to put aside my silly prejustice and eat some humble pie.

I decided, aided by family and friends who thought it was a good idea, to buy a mobile (boot) scooter. Much research went into this - it had to be big enough to carry me, and not make me look like a performing elephant at the circus, yet it had to be small enough to take apart and put into the boot of the car. It is not one of those big ones that takes you almost anywhere, but a compact one for days out on the car - after all I am still driving!

Well I/we have had great fun.

So far I have had 3 accidents on it - in the model bus department of the model shop at Meadowhall, which has resulted in a scratch on it, an accident in a lift when I banged into the door at quite a great speed, and the time when I almost run Sue over! That prompted a response as you might expect!

Last Friday I went to the auctions - Charles Hanson's auction house (my Bargain Hunt expert) with my friend of over 45 years Bernard. It was a super day, and I could sit all day, every day, as long as funds allow!!!

We arrived into a fairly full auction room, with my wheelchair, and were immediately shown to a prime place right at the front, and in the centre - just under the nose of the auctioneer who was using an old pulpit as his rostrum.

My hand went up for three different lots - the first I have to admit, by mistake - I really must learn to sit still. I don't really know what happened, but Charles had seen my hand move and then looked at me - I wasn't quite certain whether he was looking at me, but it soon became clear he was, and I nodded my head, and now own a set of nursery rhyme Royal Dalton plates, which I managed to leave in Bernard's car.

My other two purchases were 2 lots of two teapots, which I bought for Mark as he collects them.

A great step forward happened last Sunday when I drove myself, a round trip of 20 miles, to Hucknall Church, where Kathryn is team Rector. It was a lovely service, and I saw there for the first time similarities with churches where I have been incumbent - similarities in the stresses, petty squabbles, let downs, successes, glimpses of God, and the love shared and showed in most of the congregation. The joys of being a Vicar! I plan to go again this week and on Easter Day as I really do feel at home there, as indeed I do at Rainworth Church, but it is always more difficult when you were the last Vicar!

Since I last posted on my blog, we have a new Pope and a new Archbishop of Canterbury. From my initial observations and reading, I think they are both super men, who will both do well for their respective churches and more importantly for the wider Christian Faith, but I did find the Canterbury service a bit long, traditional, and dare I say a tadge boring. I am not sure what it said to those who were searching, although I do suspect actually being there would have been an awesome experience.

Well, almost there, and this time I seem to have been all over the place - a real ramble!

A bit like me on my new scooter. It is wonderful having freedom, and once being released, able to go almost anywhere I want to.

On Monday we enter Holy Week - the holiest time in the Church's calander. I intend to blog a bit more, and in a less rambling way. Have a great week, have a though proving Good Friday, have an ecstatic Easter!

"Does my bum look big in this"?

I have not had a good few days pain wise and fatigue wise, hence the delay on posting my latest blog.

However today I have made an exciting purchase, which those of you who follow me on Facebook will know all about, but everyone else will have to wait until my next posting, and this has made me feel better, even if the pain is still there.

Throughout the past few days, there have been two major appointments at various hospitals – last Wednesday morning with my oncologist, and on Thursday morning with my consultant neurotherapist – that is the person who is trying to get my legs right.

Both went very well.

But the two Medical visits and the discomfort I have experienced may not be unconnected.

I am quite convinced that many of us like to put on a good image to people we meet, we are concerned how we look and present ourselves, and I know that I am no exception - I do - and often Sue and Charlotte will pull my leg about it.

There is a wonderful Aesop fable which well illustrates how I operated last week – and that is the fable of the man the boy and a donkey going on a journey.

If you recall various people ride a donkey, and then the donkey is left with nobody on it and as they pass other people everyone has a derogatory comment to say as to who should be riding and whether it's the father or the son or the poor donkey and in the end nobody ends up having a ride.

As we arrived at Kings Mill hospital on Wednesday morning, the weather being sad - very very cold, grey and drizzly, and finding no one spaces in the Disability bays, we had to park quite a considerable way from the hospital.

 

I was undecided whether to be transported to the clinic by my wheelchair or walk with my crutches. It was quite a walk, but because I wanted people to see I was making progress, I opted for crutches. By the time I got the the hospital foyer I was shattered. Charlotte was all for going back to the car for the wheelchair, but stubborn or rather a vain me didn't want her to.

And by the time we got to the lift, I could hardly stand, but I was determined to continue to show people progress was being made. Then things suddenly changed; just before the lift doors closed, the consultant himself walked in. He smiled at me, asked me how I was - to which I replied that I was much better, smiling, and showing him I was not in a chair.

We walked together swiftly to the clinic, and by the time I got there, and the consultant had gone to his room, I sat or rather collapsed into a chair.

A similar thing happened to me the following day when I went to the neurotherapists' clinic.

Not learning the lessons of the previous day, I boldly and swiftly walked in on my crutches, waited my turn, and then told the doctor how pleased I was to be able to walk on crutches.

The following day I was what horses are when they have had it!

And the pain has got worse until Monday.

Spiritually we so often want to project an image for others to see, that says we have got it right with God. We sit in church, I know I did, and do, and think if only I could have a faith like so and so, whilst all the time portraying an image hoping that others might say the same about me.

Thank God he knows different, and still loves us!

God knows us as we are, and accepts us as we are. I will learn that lesson, and soon, and then I will not care whether I come before him on my spiritual crutches, or in my spiritual wheelchair, but rather that I come before him just as I am, rejoicing in the fact that I am simply there.

I haven't laughed so much for ages!!!

So my 62nd birthday has come and gone, and considering my aches and pains and limited mobility, I have had a good time. Just to get the medical bit out of the way, I am struggling considerably with mouth ulcers and sores at the moment - this is a side effect of the chemo drug 'everolimus' but whilst it is doing its job, and I shall know that for certain after my next CT scan, then "sore mouth's", however extreme, are something i have to put up with. It does mean, however, I struggle with my eating, and my talking!!!! A quiet time for Sue!

Talking of Sue - I know that she doesn't find it at all easy. I am so appreciative of all that she and others do for me. But sometimes I feel Sue doesn't quite understand just how frustrating it is being so reliant on others, and there are times when she gets quite sharp with me, and then I bite back!

On my birthday itself, Daniel was my first visitor, who called on his way to work. Then John and Pete came to take me out for lunch. They are brothers who I have been friendly with for over 50 years, since we were in the cubs together. John still lives in Grimsby, and Pete near Lincoln. We usually meet up a couple of times a year, and it was great to see them on my birthday.

Mark came to see me in the evening, and that ended a lovely day.

Friday saw lunch with Beryl at Reg Taylor's.

Saturday a low day, and Sunday the first of two trips to York this week - this one with Sue and Charlotte and Jill and Tom. But it hasn't got off to a good start as I feel lousy. Sue and I had a major row. Anyhow we set off, soon got over it, and had a great day.

And Sue happily pushed me round the streets of York.

But let's go back to Queen's Medical Centre Nottingham, and some fine people, on the medical teams, on the caring teams, and amongst my fellow residents.

I still pray for Dave, who was in the bed opposite me, and Sid who was in the bed next to me, and the many other people whose lives touched mine for a few weeks last November.

Then word came to me that I was moving on - nobody was quite sure where to - even when the so called ambulance came to move me, I was delivered to the wrong hospital!

Community Hospital Kirkby in Ashfield is where I should have been, not Community Hospital Mansfield. Eventually I got there and stayed there for almost 3 weeks, learning to use my legs again.

To a great extent this has been successful, and usually each day seems a little better and easier. The last couple of days have not been such days.

Nothing much to report on in the Community Hospital. The food was not so good, but there were still some wonderful people who I remember and still pray for.

That was going to be it for this post, but I must just refer back to our day out in York.

Went to visit the retail outlet just outside York, and I decided I would hire an electric scooter for a couple of hours. Well that was great fun, and Charlotte and I haven't laughed as much for a long long time. I managed to dislodge all the men's underwear in Mark's and Spencer's - Charlotte howled with laughter. I also managed to get stuck in a china shop, and Charlotte once again came to the rescue. I am certainly going to look at the possibility of buying one if I continue to struggle with my hip - not only will it help me get round, it is great fun.

How I have changed after grumbling about them in the past - yes, I hold my head down in shame, but beware if you see me gliding along the street on one of them.

So that's it for now - I think I have also finished my latest hospital experiences, but I will continue to post a blog every 2 or 3 days, with my usual insights into what is going on.

Will catch up with you again in a couple of days.