Peace Week... Esther, Jonah

For the last 5 years I have been involved in organising a "Peace Week" in this part of Manchester, an area that has been plagued by gang violence and gun crime. This is for anyone and everyone in the community to get involved in positive activities, together generating good news as a counter to all the bad. This of course includes the Faith Groups, which includes the churches. Hmm... hang on a minute. Peace Week... followers of the Prince of Peace. Is it just me or is there a somewhat obvious connection here? I'm beginning to think it's just me as I can still count on one hand the number of churches that actually do anything for Peace Week (that's out of around 40 that we contact about it).

In my church we looked recently at the book of Esther. This verse struck me: "For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place.." 4 v14. This is from where Esther is given the opportunity to speak up for the Jews, and it's as if God is saying to her "actually, you're not my only option, but if you're up for it, I can use you to make this happen." Is it too strong to say to the churches that are not taking the opportunity that is Peace Week that God's concern for this community is such that he will bless and use others rather than wait for his people to do something? I'm reminded too of this passage where Jonah's concern about his own comfort is contrasted with that of God for the city.

“You have been concerned about this vine, though you did not tend it or make it grow. It sprang up overnight and died overnight.
But Nineveh has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, and many cattle as well. Should I not be concerned about that great city?” Jonah 4 v10-11.

Is my frustration boiling over into too heavy a reaction?

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Mixed

A few weeks ago I was sitting waiting for a meeting to start and one of the others, a church leader I've known for years, asked me how was Christmas. We'd had mum over to Manchester for Christmas. It was a good week and she enjoyed being spoiled and meeting family and friends, but she was beginning to struggle with her illness and had gone into hospital soon after going back, and was not doing well. I thought for a few seconds and said 'mixed'. He then said oh dear, I'm going to wonder what that means now and come up with all sorts of things. So, I told him what I meant... and that I was trying to give him an honest answer as a break from the standard Christian greeting. You know, the one that goes: "'Hello-how-are-you?'; 'Fine. How-are-you?'; 'Fine.'" He was sympathetic, but I wonder if part of him wished he hadn't asked!



Try going through a Sunday morning without using the word 'fine'. It's not easy!

Six intense days in Belfast

This blog gets ever more sporadic. This last month has been dominated by the illness and death of my mother in Belfast, so I haven't really been inspired to commit fingers to keyboard.

It's been a weird time. All compressed into just a few weeks. First knowing that, bar a remarkable miracle, her condition was terminal and her time would be short, which led into a time of waiting, visiting, phoning, trying to work, but mostly waiting. Then the final couple of days (we'd flown over the night before she died - an answer to our prayer that the timing would somehow be right) and the funeral and thanksgiving service - arranging, attending. Lots of the wider family around and, as usual when we get together, lots of laughter, this time mixed with sadness. Six intense days in Belfast when Manchester seemed like another existence. Strange... but rich. And God's understanding-bypassing peace somewhere in the mix. It was good to be together with everyone, but as my sister remarked, we shouldn't wait until the next death or wedding before we do it again! Like Joni said: "You don't know what you've got till it's gone." Note to self... make more time for what really matters.

Straw Felt Yow

Oh no, who’s that knocking at the door at this time of night? Manuel? MANUEL! Completely useless. I don’t know why I bother. MANUEL!! Oh wait a minute – he’s had to go back to Barcelona to register for this stupid Census. Thank you very much Augustus Caesar! Polly’s day off, Sybil’s out at some friend’s again... I’ll have to go myself. Yes, hang on, I’m coming. Honestly, people treat this place like a hotel! Where’s my dressing gown?



Hello? Yes? Oh, you want a room? Was there perhaps something about the sign in the window you didn’t understand? You thought you’d ask anyway as it’s late and you’re desperate. Oh, it’s late is it? I hadn’t realised - I thought there was a solar eclipse. I normally wear pyjamas during the day. Let me explain. The sign says ‘Full’. F-U-L-L. That means WE-HAVE-NO-ROOM. Yes, I can see she’s pregnant. I think that is somewhat obvious. But we do not have any accommodation just at the moment, thank you and good night. .... Oh, hello Sybil. Decided to come back and do some work to recover from a hard night’s gossiping, have you? It’s all right dear, I’m dealing with it. No, I didn’t make her cry. Look, it’s not my fault they didn’t book ahead, is it? Listen, I said I’m dealing with... OW! ......

Harrumph. Maybe now I can get some sleep - if my throbbing head will let me. It’ll serve Sybil right if the Hotel Inspector comes tomorrow. Imagine putting them in the animal shed round the back! ... Oh no, now what? I don’t believe it. There’s only a dirty great CHOIR outside now! Where’s the noise abatement society when you want them? And there’s someone else at the door! Sybil? Where is she? Probably out with those two in the shed. I’ll have to go myself again...

Shepherds. Now I’ve seen everything. What do you want? Yes, yes, round the back. Well, at least wipe your feet first! What have you been treading in? Don’t mind me, I only own the place.

Would somebody please tell me what is going on? Anyone would think that baby was Someone Special.

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X for...?

When I was at school, sometime after I'd become a committed Christian, I wrote an essay in which I argued that there were actually two festive seasons - Christmas, that lasted for 3 days (this was before I was aware of things like Advent), and Xmas that lasted all year. I then proceeded to demonstrate by listing things like when the first holly and tinsel adorned items appeared in the shops, and themed adverts on TV, through buying next year's cards at half-price in the January sales, the pudding that lasted until April, a present arriving from New Zealand in July, and other things I can't remember. I finished by saying maybe Christians should move their festival to June and disentangle it from the other one. The teacher loved it and gave me a commendation (gold star, OBE, extra quill - whatever it was in those days).

If I was updating it I think I'd have to add our neighbour's light show. She has always loved this time of year and really gets into all the trimmings - though more Xmas than Christmas. For years she has been amassing an amazing collection of singing Santas, dancing snowmen, animated trees, you name it, so the inside of her house when they're all switched on (we go for the tour every year) is like a cross between Santa's Grotto and a bizarre mechanised singing competition where all the entrants are singing at once in different keys and tempos! A unique experience, with her long-suffering husband somewhere in the middle trying to watch the football on Sky. Last year she added an outdoor lights display for the first time, and went for it big time! You could read a newspaper at midnight outside her window (the photo was taken with not all of them on!). We've just had the Big Switch On for this year.



Actually, if I was updating my essay, I think about dropping the bit about moving Christmas. Yes Xmas is commercial and tacky, but there's also a lot of it that's just plain good fun - like Sheila's lights (setting aside carbon size 17's just for a bit). Add in a real reason for celebration, a birth that can change everything for ever for anyone who wants it, and, with a bit of judicious navigation, you've got a pretty unbeatable combination.

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Mr Angry

Does anyone remember Mr Angry from the Steve Wright Show years ago? He used to phone in and get really worked up about something every day ("It makes me so angry I'm going to throw the phone down!"). No? Anyone old enough? Oh well, it made me laugh.

Anyway, I can identify with him at the moment. Today my mum began her series of 25 appointments for radio-therapy. She's 77, a bit forgetful, and only two years on from losing her husband and moving house at the same time. And she has breast cancer. To get to the hospital where she lives in Belfast the Northern Ireland NHS Transport Department (what happened to 'Ambulance'?) have asked her to be ready for collection at 12.30pm. Her appointments are at 4pm. The hospital is only a few miles across the city, even in bad traffic half an hour at the most. But maybe they have to pick up lots of other people.

Us family members began to think... if they're insisting she's ready 3.5 hours before her appointment - the treatment lasts about 30 minutes - how long will she be waiting afterwards? What time could she be getting home? We remembered the fiasco three years ago getting my dad to, and back from, his Parkinson's consultation... surely it can't still be that bad? Maybe between my uncles and sister who live there family could take her in some days. I phoned the hospital yesterday to ask about sharing mum's appointments... it seems the 'Transport People' might decide that if she can get in by alternate means on one day, she can do it every day, and will therefore summarily cancel the whole arrangement. Apparently it wouldn't be the first time. I got the distinct impression the rest of the NHS lives in fear of causing the transport people offence, and tiptoes around them, arranging everything to suit them. I know from 3 years ago just managing to contact them is an achievement deserving of an OBE. So, given the general nervousness, we decided to wait and watch how it went on the first few days.

Day one - today. The minibus arrived at around 1pm. It picked up one other person and mum was at the hospital by 2pm for a long wait. She had her treatment and went back down to reception to be picked up. No-one came. She asked at reception, a phone call was made... the minibus had gone without her! If it hadn't been for a worker in the hospital who happened to overhear and offered to give her a lift home (at some risk apparently - workers are not supposed to do this), she might still be there now. She got home around 6 hours after she left; the getting there and back has caused her far more distress than the treatment... about which she seemed to be quite blasé on the phone just now!

We're getting our rota of family members sorted out and I will be doing my best Mr Angry impersonation first thing in the morning. Yes, resources are tight, yes, pressure on staff, but this was simple incompetence by a service that sounds more and more like the spoiled brat of the NHS in Northern Ireland. Next week I'm going over to Belfast for a few days. If any more cock-ups by 'transport' have happened between now and then... well, watch out!

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The Return of TTYYY...

...Whew - it's a bit dusty in here. First visit since April. It's all coming back to me now... a few weeks before my sabbatical started I began experimenting with the whole 'blogging' thing and used this Scribefire Firefox add-on to learn how to do it and my dispute with Apple at the time as something to write about. Mentioning to Apple tech support that I was blogging my on-going problems with them might have helped persuade them to sort it out - which they did very well once they had admitted fault - but if they knew how many people had been reading they might not have moved so fast..!

Anyway, I'm back from my sabbatical, have made a final entry on my Sabblog, and it's back here for more intermittent ramblings.

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