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There’s Nothing Quite Like A Real Book

I admit, I have recently become the owner of a Kindle, but I still love real books, and these two clips bring me great joy! Enjoy:

 

Language

I love it when Clergy swear; it makes them so much more, well, human.

I don’t think I’d heard a member of clergy swear twice in one sentence until yesterday; I was in Prison, delivering Christmas Cards (as you do) with one of the Chaplains. We also wound up doing a one-to-one (or two-to-one as I was shadowing the Chaplain). We’d spent near on 40 minutes with a very anxious man, who’d not seen his family for months, because they’re all 3 hours away and they can’t afford to visit and his gran is too sick to travel that far, either. He had requested, numerous times, to ask to be transferred to a prison nearer his family (which they do), but he’s not heard anything back, which I’m sure you understand is very distressing for him. So we went to the wing office to ask if they knew anything; and the officers who spoke were being really hard on him essentially calling him a cry baby and trying to play the system (which he said he isn’t, he didn’t want to be put on an ACCT – an obs programme for vulnerable prisoners) and ‘he should have thought about that before he broke the law…’ which is understandable, but at the same time, you’d be a bit down if you’d been in prison months and heard nothing back from all the applications etc. do the prison officers have no compassion? The Chaplain and I walked out the office, down the landing, and said ‘I’m going to swear…… miserable fucking bastards!’ which kinda made me laugh out loud!

Today I was in conversation with another priest, we were discussing a recent set back of mine, (the cause of which shall remain nameless) And in response to some hurtful prose whilst also discussing a difference in culture (and sex), he referred to them with some more colourful language. And, again, I think, I laughed.

On the whole I try not to use bad language; but sometimes I think it helps just to clear the air, to let off steam and feelings about something(or one). And both occasions to which I refer in this post, were, I add, in confidential spaces; they were no prisoners in hearing distance, and the Vestry isn’t exactly consecrated ground, anyway!

N.b. I do not endorse clergy swearing.

Unforeseen Sabbatical

I didn’t intend to have a sabbatical from blogging, it just happened that way.

I know I’ve said it before, I’ve not really been blogging much of late. I’ve either been too busy with life, overwhelmed by the things I would normally write about, or intimidated by other, more superior people in the blogging world.

I am hoping to change this. Blogging isn’t just a means for you, my devoted followers, to keep a track of where I am with life. Blogging enabled me to think, process and reflect on topics, events, life, the universe and everything. And I have been fortunate to have the wise input from some of you, too.

I’m asking for your support, encouragement and patience as I seek to re kindle my thinking space, so I engage with the world as it goes by, rather than being engulfed by all the tiny details of the big, overwhelming, picture. Thanks!

Pachelbel Rant

I saw this years ago, but a friend re-posted it on Facebook, and well, there is an element of truth in this which makes me chuckle, so I thought I’d share it with you!

Enjoy

Bible overview

I am the Vicar

Phil, a wonderful friend of mine posted a link to this poem earlier. I really like it at wanted to share it with you.

Click me.

Interpreting the Brits…

I Will Wait

Thanks to Barry Cooper I am sharing this with you as it eloquently describes where I am with God and the whole waiting game 🙂

Free to be me

Here’s (yet) another poem on the subject of M.E.:

Free to be me

Once upon a time,
I could think of a rhyme
that was not about M.E.
rather, me.

Caught up in the fog,
left me stuck in a bog.
And I’m trapped,
trapped by the walls of M.E.

Sleepless nights
will bring me no more frights,
because of my identity
(and that’s not in M.E.)

Fighting the fatigue
that did not belong to me.

I have a retreat,
where I can hear the birds tweet,
in the sanctuary
of rest.

I’m not defined by the rain,
even when I’m dancing,
and in pain.

My identity is free;
free from M.E.
free to be me.

Free to be
the woman God called me to be;
me.

In my weakness,
the weakness of M.E.,
I had no choice
but to rely on The One you despise.

You can tear me apart,
you can wound my heart.
But you may hold me no longer;
this fight has only made me stronger.

Because He died,
He died for me.
He died so that I,
could be free.

Free, from the pain,
the rain,
of this world.
From the things that bound me
to M.E.

And I’m
Free to be
the woman God called me to be;
me.