bother

I spilled myrrh oil all over my hand, and no amount of perfumed soap is covering it.

That particular mistake is so much easier to handle with house blessings when I spill rose and rosemary instead.

scary moment

I have just found Molly (my house cat) sitting on the outside window ledge.  Lucky for me — and for whomever opened the window — she jumped in and not out when I called to her in panic.  Lucky too that I found her before either the next door cat or the regular canine visitors came to call.

Apart from that little glitch, we had a fine morning with +Mdimi of the diocese of Central Tanganyika, a beautifully catered lunch afterwards.  If we still believed that the blessed were winged in heaven, many a fine gilded feather would have been earned by certain members of the congregation today.

twitchers ready

As we welcome various pre-Lambeth bishops around the province, a helpful reminder from Timothy Radcliffe’s What’s the Point of Being a Chistian:

‘The Church exists to gather people so that we may rejoice together.  Herbert McCabe OP writes that

we express our joy in bodily signs, by dancing, singing, or laughing.  We shout for joy, or hug each other, or turn cart-wheels.  Just how we express our happiness will of course depend on what country we live in and the local customs and traditions.  In parts of Africa you would express it in highly sophisticated and formalized dance.  In parts of British suburbia, I believe they manage it with a slight twitch of the upper lip.’

inner quot., God, Christ and Us.

slowly, slowly

The ‘flu is passing.  Slowly.  I thought I was well enough yesterday to do a few hours desk work and attend (not chair) a vestry meeting.  That turned into 6 hours at the desk, plus the meeting, and a giant lesson in overestimating my abilities as I crawled into bed exhausted.  So today I am not trying to work.  I’ve found the back of a kitchen cupboard I hadn’t seen for a while.  I’m looking for recipies for each of the varieties of bean and grain that have been lying there ignored.  I might do a bit of light hoovering before the cleaning party come to prepare the rectory for the visiting bishop on Sunday.

The congregation have been great, offering practical help and lots of encouragement (if that’s what one calls repeated cries of  ‘stop that now.  go to bed’).

I would feel better about a week of lounging around if I had the concentration either to pray or to read theology.  But I don’t.  So instead, it is cookbooks and Harry Potter, and a very happy cat.