run, rabbit, run

On a trip to Blenheim today, Caleb decided to go off on his own. He was determined to get back to the train station, so he could see the engine again, but missed and ended up on the far side of a massive field, nearly getting as far as the main road. His lucky parents were keeping a reasonably close eye on him and we still have no idea how he got passed us. There was a back way and he was spotted climbing a fence near a cafe, but it wasn't on any obvious route. Maybe that's how he did it - by not planning. It was a sobering reminder of why he is different. We always encourage ourselves with the thought that it is unlikely anyone would abduct a child with Downs Syndrome, but the other side of the coin is the need to check the ponds and to catch up with him before he makes it to a main road. At least we still feel we deserve the disabled parking badge.

Contrasts

It is strange to see bright sunshine outside our back door and to hear of deep snow elsewhere. Even more dramatic was the change from summer last week to winter this one. It is so easy to find in this a source of complaint (certainly I prefer summer!), but it is bizarre that everyone interviewed seems to moan. I wonder if too many of us are like this - complaining as a matter of course. I've become very short fused when my children moan - is this just me moaning back, I wonder, or am I being a wise parent. Certainly my experience of moaners is that they drain everyone's energy and gain nothing themselves. Why then is the church often seen to eb full of them, I wonder? Maybe it is not any more full than anywhere else - it's just that everywhere is full of them (or us?). Please God stop us moaning.

Any chance?

I'm left wondering today of there's any chance I'll finish my latest portfolio. You may have noticed the lack of blogging over the weekend (though I doubt it as no one has ever left a comment - how dull am I?). It was due to busy-ness. Saturday we had one child in France, another at a friend's party and the rest of at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. Sunday we had Alison running the Reading half marathon. And Monday just disappeared into the ether. And there the reading sits, waiting for me to attack it and make sense of it. Not only that but I cannot just read - Oxford Brookes, in their wisdom, require something practical as well. But, because it's an MA, it has to be practical and academic - not for me a Bible Study outline, oh no, not good form. So I've gone for some form of original research. This time is an assessment of the mission of a diocese, based on two interviews and the official documentation. Except that the two interviewees live 300 miles away. Phone? Please pray...

endings

I'm not very good at these. I usually find that everyone else is having a party and I'm just feeling a bit low. Today, the end of term, was different. I was rather glad to have missed the party, which was bizarrely raucous, by some accounts. More than that I was quite happy sitting chatting. I think it was that for once I did not feel that anyone ought to like me. I never actually thought that you understand, but I think that's how I acted. As if somehow it was someone else's fault that I was not joining in. But how much sense does that make? Not much, I reckon. Pride finds its way into the oddest corners of our lives doesn't it...

run and become...

I made the rash decision to run the school Relay today. That's about 2.6 km, which takes the quickest boys about 9 minutes, and the slow and unfit adults anything up to 15 minutes. Anyway, I decided to run it because it would be good for me. Good for me that is to go round really slowly and be passed by everyone. At one point this midget (or possibly young pupil) shot passed me, like he was a rabbit being chased by a grey hound. It was all very humbling...which seemed to be the point. Do it, do it to your best exactly because you're really bad at it and then all that ego that wants somehow to believe that you could have been a contender is simply drowned out by a huge wave of reality. I recommend it. (oh, except don't write a blog about it afterwards because then you may feel smug.)

fun, fun, fun

Caleb and I have a game. It's called 'Food'. I chase him around pretending to eat his toes, but never quite catching him, while he runs away giggling. We have rhyme which goes with it:

I like toes for breakfast
I like toes for tea
I like toes for supper
So bring those toes here to me

Toes go nicely with sausages
Toes go well with chips
And when I taste that crunch in my cornflakes
I know I'm eating your tips

Well, it's pretty mediocre poetry, but he loves it and so do I...

Time to moan

Sitting in a children's concert tonight, I heard the parents behind me moaning about a 'vicar' - "he doesn't look at me when I talk to him". It set me thinking. I wondered why. Was she being exceptionally boring? I do know people who will make me stare into space just for something to occupy my mind while they ramble on. Was he failing to listen? I know how easy it is to be always looking to the next thing, especially if you are busy. But just now I had another thought. What if he is just being a normal male, who, let's be honest, often stare into space when talking to each other. I guess because eye contact is the beginning of competition or conflict, so a non- confrontational conversation must avoid continuous direct eye contact. I don't know. What I do know is that is is usually bizarrely picky to moan because someone doesn't look at you when you talk to them (maybe they're keeping an eye their children, for example) - and that people are often bizarrely picky when it comes to dealing with the 'clergy'. Oh well, I've got that to look forward to...

Humble pie?

Tried the humility thing today - golly, it's difficult. I'll say one thing though, it seems to make it a lot easier to talk with people. I was having a chat over coffee with a colleague when I thought of something really interesting to say - then came a thought - what about him? So rather than tell my story (supposedly in the hope it would move the conversation on), I asked him about his experience. Surprise, surprise, it was a much more fruitful chat. The real problem, of course, is that as soon as you think you're being humble, then self-confidence (by which I mean confidence in the self) reappears and you've stopped being humble. In fact, I've really blown it with this plog! Oh well, never mind...

The root of all evil?

I found myself drifting off during the sermon as usual today - I never mind longer talks because it gives some serious opportunities for 'letting the tide roll away'. This time I found myself examining the roots of my own sinfulness (Why is it by the way that there is no ordinand course entitled 'Sin'?). It was one of those treasure hunts where each discovery produces a clue to the next. I thought I'd got there when I got one level, prayer ( or need thereof) only to realise there was another one below - more like unpeeling an onion really, then. At last I got to humility (also extreme lack thereof), at which point the preacher broke into my conscious with the words 'humble yourself'. Uh oh. Spot on. Is anyone else like this? Continually growing, flourishing and then tripping up? Well here lies the answer: if my people who are called by my name will here my voice and humble themselves...

Are we nearly there yet?

I did a bit of work on my latest 'portfolio' today, copying the list of requirements into the final document, when...uh oh...I discovered that what I had written only covered half of the first requirement. Or, to put it differently, instead of being nearly there, I was only half or even a third of the way through. Quick check - can I get away with it. Quick answer - no. So it's been back to the drawing board. I think I know what to do, but I again have no idea where I'll find the time to do it. Never mind - it's always like that at the moment. Oh and Uganda is unlikely - the best flight takes about 36 hours to get there - a definite no-no with young children. Next year?

Keeping a head above water?

Sometimes it's the little things, don't you find. For me it's having a disturbed morning that seems to set me off - and boy does Caleb like to disturb the mornings. First visit anytime from 5 onwards. Alison, bless her, often deals with that one. Next it's 6ish and then it's my go. Stay in bed = get sat on. Read Bible in bed = have it nicked. Get up = have clothes picked up in teeth like a dog and chased around the room. Go down = make train track. Get breakfast = steal bread and hide under the table (not me you understand). It's meant to be fun, but between 6 and 7:30, before that first quiet coffee, it grates every raw nerve. What is the temptation? Well not to get angry, I don't think - Caleb is almost incapable of making me angry, thank goodness. I think the real temptation is to be jealous of others and angry at their comfortable complacency. How easy they get it? See colleagues off abroad for the W/E and don't think 'bless them' but rather 'curse them' the lucky things and wish they had a clue how the other side live (particularly when they look down on your failed attempts to keep up with the workload). Jealousy is so destructive - oh how to guard against it. 'be satisfied' 'be content'. But what's the secret?

Oh dear

It is amazing where stress points come when you get busy. Ours are often around meal times. Breakfast turns into a misery of someone has got down too late and is in a rush. This morning was certainly a smashing time. And then everyone gets to work stretched thin and miserable. Does Jesus have anything to teach us? I'm not sure but I've been teaching the Gethsemane story recently and I guess that is certainly a time of stress. So what does he do? Well, he anticipates it, praying and conquering in advance. Then when it comes to it, he seems to stay calm whatever is thrown at him, and however badly everyone, friend or foe, behaves. There may just be a lesson there...

Nearly there...

I've been doing my own Bible in a Year. It's been great fun, surprisingly. I used the simple system of reading a double page each day. This way I've needed no schemes and cannot get behind - ideal for me (unlike blogging!). Today I got to the end of Hebrews and suddenly it struck me - I'm nearly there. Only a few mini-letters and Revelations to go. What have I learnt? Apart from the serendipity of passage meeting situation, which has been surprisingly rare, I've got a real feel for the huge differences in writing style, and the surprising similarities in content. It encouraged me to do an essay on Paul's letters, which showed (to me at least) that the earliest and the latest had so close a theme as to be inseparable. As I always comment of the critics of the authenticity of the Bible: "Clearly they haven't actually read it". Get reading folks!

Time or tide

Just been on an 'initiation' weekend. It sounded like something out of the masons but was really just about baptism. I had one sparky thought, which I'll have to follow up. As it is true that Jesus' death and resurrection 2,000 years ago may be appropriated to me today by faith, is it not just as reasonable that my baptism 46 years ago may be appropriated to me by faith. Or, to put it differently, why do we get so tied up about temporal order with baptism when we don't seem to about other aspects of following Jesus? It seems to me that the CofE is right on this one - the order does not matter provided there is both baptism and faith (and I might add the baptism of the Spirit, also, which I am not convinced is tied down to a particular event in time be it baptism, confirmation or conversion). A thought, probably with many errors, but it seemed a good one...