It's all in the reflection

In the enquiry and training process for the Church of Scotland, there is a lot of emphasis on reflection. It will prove to be a useful discipline for whatever ministry lies ahead.

So often it's only when we look under the surface that we can see the whole picture.

Particularly in our encounters with others, there are so many levels and layers to be explored before we can come to any semblance of understanding.

While enforced journalling might prove demanding, and seem, at times, artificial, it is a wonderful habit to foster and will help to ensure that our reflection, rather than being introspective will help us to broaden our perspective. Like seeing the snow on the hilltops, invisible until glimpsed in the reflection.

Real ministry

I was musing with colleagues this morning about offloading some of the extraneous aspects of ministry so that I can be engaged in what really matters. As I shared the things that helped me to feel fulfilled in ministry, it came down to relationships - meeting folk in their homes or in the community. Supporting folk through crises, ill health and bereavement. Celebrating worship. Being visible and accessible. Equipping and releasing others to engage in mission.

One colleague pointed out that I was, in fact, eschewing a very traditional view of ministry. So be it. Amen.

Glimpses

Spending the biggest part of my weeks at the crematorium just now, it's important to catch glimpses of light:

Like the old man I visited having the audacity to tell me I need a comb - or at least a clasp to keep my hair out of my eyes.

Being missed by primary school kids when I didn't make it to their 8:30am choir practice.

The look of shock(probably followed by a bit of tut tutting)on the faces of colleagues when I turned up for a meeting listening to my ipod - they were in the corridor, I did remove them before entering the meeting room!

Being invited to go for a drink with a probationer - a good way to wind down before heading home.

Being congratulated for not wearing a dog collar.

Gaining some street cred with secondary school kids by having a facebook page.

I think I'll write a post like this every week. It's amazing the light you can glimpse if you try.:)

Not quite Burns

Burns Cottage, Alloway

The Puddock
by John M Caie

A Puddock sat by the lochan's brim,
An' he thocht there was never a puddock like him.
He sat on his hurdies, he waggled his legs,
An' cockit his heid as he glowered throu' the seggs
The bigsy wee cratur' was feelin' that prood,
He gapit his mou' an' he croakit oot lood
"Gin ye'd a' like tae see a richt puddock," quo' he,
"Ye'll never, I'll sweer, get a better nor me.
I've fem'lies an' wives an' a weel-plenished hame,
Wi' drink for my thrapple an' meat for my wame.
The lasses aye thocht me a fine strappin' chiel,
An' I ken I'm a rale bonny singer as weel.
I'm nae gaun tae blaw, but the truth I maun tell-
I believe I'm the verra MacPuddock himsel'."

A heron was hungry an' needin' tae sup,
Sae he nabbit th' puddock and gollup't him up:
Syne 'runkled his feathers: "A peer thing," quo' he,
"But - puddocks is nae fat as they eesed tae be."

I've been reflecting recently on how many guid Scots words are in common use in this part of the world. So much so that, having moved here just 18 months ago, our daughter now speaks a different language from us! When I mentioned puddock to an elderly lady this morning, she quoted me the above poem. It seemed pertinent to post it on the Bard's birthday, even though it's not one of Burns' poems.

Looking out for God

In the sun rising alongside the railway track

Filtering through the grime of the train windows

In the buzz of the city centre morning rush hour

In friends greeting each other

companions for onward journeys

or simply the day ahead

there God was

hanging around

people watching

not with malevolence

but with a twinkle in her eye

taking pleasure in all the everyday simple things

that we take for granted:

the morning breeze

the birdsong

the updraft of the pigeon’s wing as it almost brushes our faces

the impressive facades of city buildings

the smell of coffee and croissants

grinning from ear to ear at the hustle and bustle

at all the rushing and scurrying

then creasing to a frown

as she sees the news vendor grimacing in pain

as he eases himself into a comfier perch

on his stool, out in the cold and damp

or the young girl wrapped in a blanket

gently proffering her paper cup

to those who sweep past, unseeing

God was there

Whispering:

Wake up.

Look around you

Look at your world

Look at each other

Look into each others eyes

See me

Liz Crumlish January 2010

Terms of endearment

After conducting a funeral service today with what I thought was warmth, dignity and, dare I say it, authority, I held the door open for one of the mourners as I left the crematorium. "Thanks doll", was his response. My bubble was well and truly burst!

Pray,Listen,Respond in love

A video for Haiti from theworkofthepeople.com: