circle

Scripture Union have a new worker in this part of Edinburgh.

Gill. I've met her, briefly, once before, but today we were walking together round to the school for the SU meeting over lunch.

"Are you in at the school quite regularly?" she asked.

Well, I said, this is my third time today!

Thursdays are like that, of course.

It's a kind of horizontal yo-yo type of thing I do on a Thursday morning. Round to the school for the first of the morning assemblies (P4-7). Back to the halls for the time of prayer. Round to the school for the next of the school assemblies (P1-3). Back to the halls again.

The morning, like most, is soon gone! There's a bit of a break before heading back for the lunchtime SU group. So the chance for a small bit of work to be done. Mainly admin sort of stuff. E-mails and letters and telephone calls.

There were 15 children along at the SU group. It's lovely to see them so eager for all that we do. We taught them about Jesus washing the feet of his friends. Service.

We gave them a memory verse as well. "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you".

The time flies by. Half an hour is really too short but it's better than nothing.

It's back for some lunch and then on with some more of the many odds and ends there are requiring my attention.

There's a call from the local undertaker. An elderly man in the parish has died.

I'm mentally making connections. When I was in at the school this morning I'd noticed that one of the secretaries wasn't there and had asked if things were all right. Her father had died: that's why she was off.

It's him that the undertaker is calling about. I ring the family and it's the secretary herself I speak with. There's instant recognition. And I'm glad once again of the contact there is through the school.

I share with them there at the school. But with pupils and staff alike I often end up sharing in their private lives as well. The privielge is real. And the investment of time well worth while.

Am I regularly round at the school?

For sure, I am.

And the way that today has worked out is part of the reason why.

It's people that count. And I'm not long back in the house, preparing the tea, when the telephone rings and a family friend asks can she call by. As in there and then. She's just along the road.

We've known her for years, a lovely young woman. So she drops by and is happy to share our tea. Her father died some years ago and she sometimes likes to bounce her thoughts and feelings off myself.

She's not there for long, but the time is well spent and I think she feels the better for it all. It's great to have some time with her again, she's a fine and eager follower of Christ, with loads to give.

And with lots of struggles, too.

Like us all.

It's good to be in it together. To know we're not alone. To have someone there.

Which is why, I suppose, those times at the school are so special.

retired?

"Are you a retired minister, then?"

It wasn't the opening welcome I'd quite expected. And not having looked in the mirror recently I began to think I must have really aged.

"Pardon me?" I gently enquired.

I didn't want to get drawn along this line of conversation all that far. The lady's husband had died and this was me calling to see her. There were other more relevant matters we needed to talk through than the date of my retirement (alleged).

The problem was not to do with how I appeared, but what she had picked up from speaking with the funeral undertakers. She hasn't really done this sort of thing before and coupled with anxiety and grief, it was hard to take all she was told entirely on board.

She'd got the impression that it would be a retired minister who'd be taking the service.

Her husband was a good deal older than her (I'd have thought). He was 92 when he died some days ago. And she looked nothing at all like that.

I asked at one point how they'd met. It was, she declared, in a pub. She'd spoken to him and said that he'd looked so much like her Dad.

Which is an interesting opening gambit for your chat-up lines. And probably doesn't always work that well. So don't feel you have to try it, girls!

She's not had things easy in life. And I suppose she's not untypical of many today.

She'd been married herself before she met this man, now her husband, who'd died. And one of her sons had been killed aged 26, some twenty years or so ago.

A sore and painful memory. For a mother, not least, I guess a thing like that makes little sense. It's hard to see where God fits in at all.

Why are these things allowed?

And what about the Holocaust as well? How can events like that be allowed to go on in a world where God's in charge?

There are questions like that which linger for long in many a person's heart. And I don't have ready answers.

I was along in the morning at the local secondary school. They were hosting a one-act production, the life of Eva Schloss - Anne Frank's step-sister. It was powerful stuff, horrific the things that so many like her had to face.

The lady herself came on at the end and shared in a question/answer sort of thing. How do you feel about Germans now? What do you think of revenge? How did you manage to hold any hope?

All sorts of questions like that. No easy answers.

Strange how the service t lunchtime should have focussed on Joseph's experience long ago in Egypt. Long years of bitter darkness, hurt and misery. And then an amazingly sudden, remarkable reversal.

It must have seemed for long enough so hopeless for the guy. The cards all stacked against him. No light at the end of the tunnel and life itself conspiring right against him all the time.

Where is God? he must have often wondered in the corners of his soul.

Well, not retired at any rate! That's for sure.

I guess you must read to the end of the book before you make the judgments as to what on earth's going on.

Faith means believing in advance what only makes sense in reverse.

God's not retired. And I'm not retired.

And it's hope above all that the good news of Jesus imparts.

To this lady as well, in all of her grief, I trust.

staccato

There seem to be loads of days like this when there's barely the chance to pause for breath.

Or to do the things I'd planned to do! Which were probably way too many anyway and wholly unrealistic.

Domestic

Being a Tuesday my day starts in the kitchens here with making the soups. 'Mediterranean Spinach' (shot through with diced courgettes) - that sounds better than the simpler, shorter and probably more descriptive 'Sludge' which is how someone refered to the soup later on - and 'Cream of Red Pepper'.

It gets people talking if nothing else and makes their visit here on a Tuesday always interesting and something they look forward to.

After that it's down to the shifting of chairs and tables, setting things up and getting halls ready for all that'll be taking place. I'm used to the daily routines so it doesn't take all that long.

Computers

There's a guy coming in, a sort of 'whizz-kid- type of computer buff, to chat through our computer needs.

We use them a lot (the computers, I mean), and are really that dependent on the things that if one of them chooses to give up the ghost or, as they say, simply 'crash', then we're really up the creek.

So we're trying to get them 'networked' and 'managed' by a firm who know what they're doing and will be there for instant support.

It takes quite a while, but it's time well spent and we all feel pretty positive, I think, when we're done. Including the guy who's come in, since he's likely to have got some more business.

People

I'd planned to get down to some early preparation, but it hasn't really happened yet. And isn't going to happen now at all!

I go back to the kitchen to see to the soups (blending, putting the cream into Cream of Red Pepper, that sort of thing), and by the time I'm coming out, people are coming in for their lunch.

Even though lunches officially don't start 'til 12 noon. We're 20 minutes shy of that. But hey, they're in for lunch and the soups are good to go.

So I start to chat to the lady and her girl. The girl's fresh out of her morning at nursery and they have to be somewhere else by 12.15. That's why they're in so early.

And yes, they like to come in on a Tuesday because they know that it's myself who makes the soup that day. And the wee, little four year old girl is my greatest fan. She loves the soups (except for one - a minty sort of soup, too strong for her).

So I stop and I chat with them for a while. The lady takes a bowl of the 'sludge' and a bowl of the creamy red peper and seems to survive them both.

She's glad of the welcome she's given and glad of the chance to chat.

Others come in, and before very long the place is just milling again. There's a lady from out on the south of the city who chooses to meet with a friend whom she knows right here. She really enjoys the sea of smiling faces which is always there to greet her when she comes.

Welcome is important. The fact that people notice when you come in through the door and are there to help when you haven't a clue where to go or what to do. It's little things that mostly make the difference in a person's life.

Good news needs to be 'felt'.

Douglas

I finally manage to get back to my desk, but before I've barely sat down, my good friend Douglas is there at the door. My lunchtime now.

We shift our seats when we've finished our soup and move to join a friend at another table to free up the table we're at.

More and more people are coming in. And though they'd be welcome to sit at the table with us ... well, who wants to spend their lunchtime in the company of two ministers of religion?

The friend we sit with, of course, has little choice!

We go on from there to pray. There are answered prayers for which we're glad to give thanks.

And there are things to be praying very particularly about at this time.

A meeting that I;ve got tonight. A meeting my brother's involved in today. Not an easy one at all. I sketch in the details so that Douglas and I can be praying really very specifically about that time. It's a situation where the sovereign intervention of almighty God is pretty much required.

My brother's at peace about it all, but it must be hard.

Landlord stuff

I have to leave. I've arranged to meet with a guy from a letting agency to negotiate a contract with the firm.

I walk round to the flat. And have to wait. The firm are less than half a mile away but the guy is coming by car. And that around here is not a good idea at this time. It's quicker by far to walk! Always. Miles quicker.

He arrives at last and we go over the things that require to be covered. He seems happy and I'm quite happy too. Another bit of progress on another front.

But another chunk of time as well, of course!

Meeting
The afternoon is rapidly flying by. Much as the morning had done. Probably a sign of my growing old - so they say.

And this meeting tonight is important, so I need to prepare. Whatever else may well have just had to be dropped today, I can't drop this. The meeting's too important and I need to be prepared. In mind and in spirit as well.

There's a guy that I have to let into the hall at 5.30pm, so I've got just a bit of time. Concentrated, prayerful, very focussed preparation. 'Til I've got it all clear in my mind how I need to be handling the issues there'll be tonight.

The guy's not here at half past five. Traffic. I live here, so I know better than to try to drive at this sort of time of day. I give him a call and tell him how to get in and say I'll call by later.

He's in to do recording work with Origin Scotland. It's good to have the contact with these folk and be able to share in the significant sort of ministry they exercise.

It's back for a quick bit to eat, then a quick turn-around. A quick look in to to the halls to see that the guy's arrived and everything's OK. Then on out to Kirkliston where the meeting's taking place.

It goes really well. There's a sense of the Lord being there. A spirit of praise prevails, and we end in a time of open prayer where countless different folk join in and say their bit in thanks to God.

It's humbling, but immensely exciting as well.

And a good way to end another day!

best laid plans

I was really just kidding when I spoke about the Flanders and Swan song called "The Gas man cometh".

But there's maybe a bit more truth in the thing than I thought.

Here's the story. So far. I think I probably have to add that bit!

My car was due for its M.O.T. And on top of that there were a couple of problems I'd noticed which needed picking up.

Problem one. The driver's side headlight was gone. A simple matter of changing the bulb. Relatively easy to fix. You'd have thought.

Er, no. This will cost you a bit, I'm afraid, sir.

Excuse me?

Yes, I'm afraid we have to remove the bumper.

I'm already beginning to lose the plot.

I'm sorry, I'm not quite getting just why you have to remove the front bumper to change a single bulb.

It's a safety feature, sir.

It's starting to feel like the only thing that this is going to keep safe is a steady source of income. For the garage.

I mean it's a bit like designing a house in such a way that yhou have to dismantle the roof when one of your light bulb goes.

The guy on the end of the phone agreed.

Not the cleverest design feature, sir. But it gets the car the highest safety rating it can get.

I still don't see the connection, but I'm getting the poiunt. If I want the bulb replaced, I'll need the bumper off. And without that replacement being made, well, it won't pass its M.O.T.

I don't have much of an option.

And I'm jokingly starting to say to myself that I bet their removing the bumper will mean that it needs a re-spray. 'The Gas man cometh' sort of thing.

Well, be thankful for small mercies, I suppose. There's no such need for the bumper to be re-sprayed.

But that was just a 'loosener'.

Problem number two had a whole load more of a journey in its wake.

The electrics for the driver's side window had gone. The window was stuck.

No problem, I'm told. It's likely to be the regulator. And that (he looks up his book) ... yes, that will be under warranty. You're in luck, sir.

It doesn't really feel it, I'm afraid. A sense of foreboding has already crept over my soul.

So off they go to fix it.

That was Tuesday. They'll need to order the part, of course, but it should be fixed by tomorrow.

It was. This was yesterday.

The part had come in and they fixed it all up. Except ...

Yes, well, we've found that the part that they'd ordered is faulty itself. We'll have to get another part. And that will be tomorrow.

A line from Shakespeare's MacBeth is coming to mind.

'Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...'.

But I say nothing. I'm an optimist at heart.

The garage is wholly apologetic.

Our fault, sir. So we'll give you a courtesy car meanwhile.

How kind, I say. And I mean it. They're good folk really, I know. These things sometimes happen.

Just bring in your driving licence and your insurance documents.

If you read yesterday's post you'll know that I did.

They rang the insurance company and got it all fixed up. The garage require the cover is fully comprehenisve for a courtesy car. And my insurance policy only covers me 'Third Party' for driving another car.

So they make all the alterations. And it all seems fine. Fully comprehensive cover for the courtesy car.

And I'm 'mobile' again.

They're in touch again today.

I've good news and bad news, sir.

I've heard these jokes before - but I'm fearful my choice will be either to laugh or to cry.

The good news is your window's fixed and everything's working fine.

The bad news is that the car's been bumped while in our car park, and the wing mirror now needs fixed.

It could have been worse I suppose.

They're very gracious again, of course.

Our fault entirely, sir. So we'll let you keep the courtesy car meanwhile until the car is fixed.

Tomorrow? I ask. More in hope than with any wholesale confidence.

Probably Monday at least, I'm told.

But keep the courtesy car meanwhile. They're generous to the last.

Oh, and by the way, you'll need to contact your insurance company again to extend the cover for the courtesy car.

I'll do that right away, I say.

And I do.

Except ...

Yes. You didn't think the whole thing would just finish there did you?

I ring the insurance company. It's a girl called Vanessa I speak to.

Pleasant, as doubtless they're trained to be.

Why, yes, we can easily extend the insurance for you. 'Til Monday at 5pm? No problem, sir.

The end, I'm thinking, is nigh. In a positive sense.

But it's about to turn just a shade negative.

Now that'll be an extra £57.75 we'll have to ask you to pay. Will that be by Visa, sir?

Pardon me?

Is it Visa you'll be using, sir?

No, no, I say. Wind it back a frame. I've got to pay?

£57.75, sir.

And if I don't?

Well, you can't drive the car, I'm afraid, sir. You won't be covered to drive it.

So I find myself now in this crazy world where I'm paying the insurance company some fifty pounds and more for the privilege of driving a courtesy car which the garage have kindly loaned me while they fix the mess that they have caused when I put the car in for a simple M.O.T.

And I'm thinking madly, surely the insurers should pay for this? And I remember now it's the insurers who're on the phone and asking me for the money. And I'm thinking, please let me off this crazy world!

The gas man would have been cheaper. I'm sure.

And I'm left to think it's probably something like this which explains why the whole economy's got itself into such a mess.

And why we've got so many real environmental problems at our door.

The more you try to fix the thing the worse it gets.

Serving as a pastor makes you very aware of that. Sometimes it's hard to tell just where on earth you start in terms of trying to fix the mess.

Most of my life is spent in fact with people. People where things are not going right. Where bits have got broken and parts have worn out and ... well, there are problems.

And often it's got complicated, too. One thing's led to another, and the whole thing ends in a knot.

So today, like most days, has been largely spent with people.

I hadn't planned it that way. I'd meant to get some preparation done. Sunday's looming large.

But it didn't work out quite like that at all. A couple of times across at the school. And a couple of folk I hadn't expected to see, who came in and with whom there was a welcome chance to chat.

It was a good day! A great day, indeed. Don't get me wrong.

And there's loads more to say that would fill you in and help you see just why it was so good.

But it didn't turn out quite the way that I'd intended.

The best laid plans ... and all that.

customer care

Today's been a bit of a run around again.

Not that I mind. It's varied more than manic, which is fine.

The Wednesday lunchtime service is sort of the heart of the week. A midway point in the flow of weekly river of time. Like an island on which you can step ashore and get your bearings again.

For some, it's the only time in the week they get out. The only service of worship they can attend.

So I recognise that this short time of worship is a high point for many. And the lunch which follows, as well, of course.

There's a bit of preparation that I have to do. Apart from preparing the church, that is. Shifting some seats and moving the lectern, and getting the hymnbooks put out.

Not that that takes a lot of time. But it needs to be done, and I'm glad of the chance to spend a few moments in the building there, on my own, before all the people arrive.

We're still at the story of Joseph. Which we've been on for months. But it's challenging, relevant stuff.

I was struck today by how this guy had learned so much in the realm of his relationships. The first time we see him he's hopeless. A walking disaster area, when it comes to relationships.

But down there in Egypt the guy is transformed. He gets alongside the warden of the jail, his fellow prisoners, and the king of the land. None of whom I think I'd find it easy to relate to in that way.

I was challenged and excited by this aspect of his life. The part that these relationships play in the progress of the work of God. I think it's absolutely basic.

It's something we try to work on here. There were crowds and crowds of people in at lunch again! It was wonderful to see. And it's great to be able to chat with them and get to know some different folk and hopefully make them welcome.

There was a trip out to the garage again. Steven had rung. The guy at 'Service Reception'. Good at his job and strong on his customer care. Relationships again.

He was calling to say that they'd fixed the fault I'd alerted them to, but the part that they'd ordered and fitted in place was itself plainly faulty. So they'd have to keep the car another day and order up another part.

He would give me a courtesy car he said. If I needed one.

Which I did. Well, I didn't exactly need a car. I could have walked out to Kirkliston as I'd walked there once before.

But I got into some trouble over that. People said that walking there is dangerous. Which it is, I accept, if you don't take care.

Anyway, I went across to get the courtesy car. And stopped en route to get all the bits of documentation that I'd need. Driver's licence, insurance documents, etc. And then there were the forms to fill in, and the self-same forms to sign.

And by the timeit was done I was thinking along the lines of the old Michael Flanders/Donald Swan song - "The gas man cometh".

You fix one fault and create in the process another. Most of the time I think it would be a whole load easier simply not to have a car at all. And a good deal cheaper as well!

But I got the car and it got me out to Kirkliston. A meeting of the leaders there.

They're a good, hard-working group of folk. Kind and always welcoming. And good fun as well.

One of the older men, Joe, explained how just at the moment he's in between two e-mail addresses. He's changed to a btinternet address. And he's found that there are seven different people with his name (that btinternet know about, at least).

One of whom's in prison. It made me think. Another Joe in prison.

I wonder if this modern Joe will find that the Lord opens up a whole new future for him too.

Not without relationships, I guess.

Not without there being some folk who get beside the man and somehow earn his confidence and trust.

And that takes time and effort. And usually means a pretty non-stop cycle of these busy, run -round days.

taste

Over lunch today, Douglas, my 'vicar' friend from the neighbouring church, turned to me and said - "If you ever get the sack, you can always run a Soup Restaurant!"

Tuesdays, of course, are my day for making the soups. His words, I think, were a compliment.

Apart from the thought that I might get the sack - or, as I think he really was meaning, that I might feel obliged to leave the Church of Scotland - it struck a chord. It's a notion I've sometimes entertained.

There's a certain creativity in making soup (at least the way I make it) and there's also real fulfilment in a way of life where people's needs are all being daily met.

Not just their so-called 'spiritual' needs (minister wears 'sober' clothes, listens intently, spouts forth knowledgeably, and reads the Bible and prays). But the many different 'practical' needs their circumstances bring.

I enjoy all that as a much more rounded way of living life. Not the one or the other, but both. And I've often thought that some eating place is just the sort of context where such widespread needs are met.

And where, indeed, a person meets the Lord.

Which is really what we're doing here, I guess.

There are all sorts of folk coming in and out at different points in the day.

The ante-natal classes with the midwife and the mums-to-be (and sometimes dads-to-be as well).

People who've been using our halls for different activities.

Singers who're in rehearsing.

Families stopping by.

People whom we've never met before.

People who've been in with the bricks of the church and are around here all the time.

All sorts. Today it was teeming with people again. Which was great.

And again the girls were just brilliant. It ended up there were only the two of them handling the crowds over lunch. And without so much as a flicker of any fluster they simply served each one.

They must have been pumping away at the speed of tornadoes, I think. But they seemed so entirely at ease, and in no rush at all, and with time for each person there was. Amazing.

A lady was in whose partially deaf and pretty much blind. An older little lady who's begun to come along two days a week.

It was lovely to see how the girls just ensured there was someone that she could have lunch with. Made the introductions and then made her feel at home.

It's often little things like that which make the good news meaningful to folk.

The welcome of God in Jesus Christ is maybe just pretty abstract and abstruse to most of the people we meet.

But when it gets up close and personal like this, a welcome that's got smiles and chat and notices the needs - well, I guess the whole thing suddenly starts to make sense.

I have to say I love it all. And yes, there's hard work as well. I mean the girls must be exhausted when their shift is done.

I was chatting to one when the day was done. She was saying when people are so appreciative it makes it all worthwhile. The knowledge that you have imparted to someone a sense of the presence of God - well, the hard work involved doesn't figure too large in your mental calculations.

While they do the running around, I do a fair bit of setting things up. Shifting the tables, putting out chairs, sweeping the floors, vacuuming carpets, salting the frosty paths. Menial, manual things like that.

The sort of 'building blocks' of what it is we're doing here. We simply want people, whoever they are, to get a taste of the Lord.

It doesn't all happen on site, of course.

A girl from the local community called and I went round to see her at night.

She knew me from the Primary School and that's why she'd got in touch. She was wondering about marriage here in the church. And did it make a difference that the two of them were living with each other and already had a son?

Not that she's all that old (I won't make a guess - I'll leave it like that!).

So I went round to see them, the girl and her man, at night. They're living with her parents for a while. Until they can purchase a place of their own.

Which could, I suspect, be a while.

Their baby boy was also up, so I got to see him as well. A bright wee fellow, just a few months old. And all togged up in an Everton shirt. As in replica strip.

The man the girl is marrying is from Liverpool. Enough said. So we chatted a bit about last night's match (Everton were playing Liverpool at Anfield and earned themselves a 1-1 draw with a goal in the last few minutes: sometimes my interest in football comes in handy!).

But what really struck me was how a football fan's commitment to the club is passed on down from earliest days to the next generation like this.

The wee boy has the strip on from the start. Trained up in the way he should go.

Which is a line, of course, that you've doubtless heard before. And in a slightly different connection. But the principle holds true.

You don't give the children the choice. 'This, my son, is where your loyalties will lie'.

Something fairly similar is what we're on about as well.

Clothing our folk in the colours in Christ.

The service which we offer day by day is really just a sort of 'replica strip'.

The garments of grace which we offer to folk.

Try it on for yourselves. See what the whole thing feels like.

We're glad to give all the people who come just a taste of the life of the kingdom of God.

Some, at least, come back for more.

selfless

The converstaion was really very brief.

I was up at the garage, to put the car in for its MOT. Late afternoon.

The man at Reception's a guy that I've dealt with before. A very pleasant man and always really helpful. Steven's his name, I think.

Customer care is everything. The way you handle people. He's good that way.

He was saying he was off to Alnwick. As in, to live there.

"The Missus can't get a job up here," he said. "Well, she's not really my wife, but .. well, you know what I mean. She can't get a job and the chance of a job's come up there. So we're moving down there."

"Not that I've got a job lined up down there," he added. "But, credit-crunch or not, it's a chance for her and I'll run with that. A new year, a new start, that sort of thing. I thought that I should go for it and give the girl the chance."

Good man, I thought. Really very selfless.

As I say, the conversation was decidedly brief. Not a lot more than that.

But it rang certain bells in my mind. Selfless.

That was the word a person had used earlier on, describing what Sheila had been.

It was Sheila's funeral today. She died just over a week ago, and today was the day we marked together her passing.

A service along at the crematorium. And then a service here, a chance to offer our praise and thanksgiving to God for all that her life had been and for all that God gives to us all.

There were loads of folk out. And the chance such occasions afford to reflect on a person's life and see what it was that caused her to have such an impact on all of our lives - well, that's always good.

Most of the time we're all far too busy. We're rushing around with all sorts of demands to be met. And so we don't get or make the time to pause and do the real reflecting that we need to do.

To get things in perspective and to ask just why it is we end up doing the things we do. How easy to live your whole life at the rate of knots and then find that you've missed the point.

There was a lunch in the halls once the sevice was done, and a good many folk stated for that.

The girls always make such a wonderful job of the hall and the liunch they put on is the tops. It's always a lovely occasion and they're an amazing bunch of girls.

Well, it's mainly girls, there are some men, too, who help out. Which is great. But the girls are the ones who make the whole thing work. All of them selfless themselves.

And the time over lunch is always a super time. The chance to talk at length. With all sorts of folk. Comparing notes, relaing different stories from the past.

And finding ouot all sorts of different things from Sheila's life I didn't know before. Really quite humbling in many ways.

And that one word, I think, best summed the chat all up. 'Selfless'.

That's how a neighbour expressed it when speaking with me later on. She was just wholly selfless.

It's a good way to live out life. The guy at the garage Reception's discovering that as well.

It has its risks, and it always involves some adventure.

But you don't know the joys of the open seas if you don't leave the harbour walls.

do everything with a smile

The value for the month along at the school is 'Happiness'.

Start the year on a positive note. That sort of thing.

The Head was doing the speaking again this morning. To the Primary 1s to 3s. He told them all a story about a boy called Mark. A boy who didn't like school.

You don't need to know the details (it was a story for children, after all). But the thrust of it finally saw Mark being told to take a 'card' from his 'happy' box and follow the instructions that day.

He had a 'happy' box (full of cards which showed him the things that would make him happy) and an 'unhappy' box (full of ... well, you hardly need that explained!).

The card he pulled out said to 'Do everything you do today with a smile'. Which he did.

And, of course, he had a much happier day.

More next week.

A simple, fairly obvious lesson which will help them live their school days in a happier frame of mind.

And it struck me as he spoke like that that it's not really that dissimilar to what the Bible says - Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Or, as the same guy says elsewhere - always giving thanks to God the Father for everything.

Fairly basic stuff!

I get to help with handing out the certificates - it's great to see how many get given for things like politeness, enthusiasm and making others happy. It's a super school and the Head's doing a great job there.

I got the chance to put the smile into operation right away. As I was walking back to the Halls, a man came up and said that my face was somehow familiar.

I think I must know you from somewhere, he said. I gave him some clues.

Now you're really annoying me, he said. Which was not really meant as it sounded.

I asked him his name and he told me. That sounds vaguely familiar: and now you're really annoying me, I said. A bit of tit-for-tat! But I was having fun - do everything you do with a smile is what the Head had said. I was. And the guy laughed too.

Strange how a person can sometimes be vaguely familiar. As though somewhere and somehow in the distant past you feel you must have come across the man.

I suspect that's how it is for many folk when it comes to talk of the Lord. A vague sort of sense that he's somehow strangely familiar. Their paths have crossed before.

And in part, I suppose, a lot of my time I'm simply making connections: helping folk to see just why it is they have that sense of 'God' and how he can be met and known again.

Most of that's in a one-to-one sort of 'pastoral' type of way. Which has been the way my afternoon, and then, as well, a large part of my evening has been spent.

Two different hospitals through the afternoon. And a range of different folk. Most of whom I hadn't met before - they just happened to be there within the wards in which the people I was visiting are in.

So I chat to them all. I'm kind of sowing those seeds of awareness. Giving a sense that the Lord is maybe familiar to them in ways they hadn't conceived. That he cares for them, even though they don't really know him at all.

One of the ladies I was in to see - I doubt she'd ever have had that much to do with the Lord. But she's happy to have me pray with her and I'm hopeful she'll soon start to see that the Lord is for real.

The evening, too, was mainly one-to-one. A meeting first with a small group of leaders to talk through a coming event. And then on to a complex and vexing situation where the answers are not easy and the progress isn't fast.

For long enough in an issue of this sort, I'm consciously simply skirting round the edge of things. Only very slowly do we ease right in to the heart of it all. It just doesn't work to rush in.

But I think there was progress. And I'm sure that the Lord means to heal and restore.

The person just wants to know how. What steps can be taken towards that end?

As I say, I think there was progress. Teasing out the next few steps.

It's humbling to see how the Lord is at work in a person's life like this.

And I can't but end the day by returning my thanks to the Lord for all that he is doing in this person's life. And for the privilege that it is to be involved in what he's doing.

I end the day with a smile.

royal family

It was really too late - even for me - to get any sort of post put up yesterday.

It was that sort of day. Pretty non-stop, from (an early) start to (a very late) finish. Today's not been all that much different.

Varied, certainly. And lots that's been good and positive. But, like the dress of some royal bride, pretty full and long.

Not that I'm a connoisseur of these things, mind you, or what you'd call a royal watcher at all.

Except, I've been aware that they've been in the news, and have been getting a whole load of stick for what they call their chums.

The occupational hazards of those who're in the public eye. You have to watch what you say these days.

A line which I'm not always sure that Jesus himself was all that bothered to tow.

An awful lot of what he did and said was far from being 'PC'. A point that they finally made to the guy with the three long nails that got hammered through his limbs.

He can live with that, of course. He did and he does. He's alive to this day.

And I guess it's that we have to learn to do as well. Live with the flak that goes with our being always far more resolved to be 'true' than merely 'correct'.

How on earth did I get onto that?!

Yes, a couple of days which have been full and long.

Jesus had days like that. So did those early followers of his. Judging by what they say.

But they didn't seem to mind it one small bit. They revelled in it all. And so do I!

I mean, who wants to drop off to sleep or take a break when the Lord is so clearly at work? There's loads going on, and it's all so good.

I was having some lunch with my friend from down the road (or up the street, depending on your geography), and the noise all around was something else. There were so many different people in and such a lively chatter, it was wonderful.

The Lord must love it, I thought. When people come together in that way. Old and young, from all different walks of life. All bundled in together and enjoying such eager chat.

We pray that people coming in will get a sense of heaven. Something different, brighter, fresher than what normally they know. Like life.

But it takes a bit of organising. There was the soup to make on Tuesday, for one thing.

When it comes to making soup, I do things without thinking which seem really very natural to me and then folk say - oh, that's quite adventurous!

And they're not quite sure if you can do things like that with soup. And I'm thinking to myself - I just did!

But they turned out OK, and in fact they thought it was fine. Carrots, lentils and mango was the basic mix they weren't too sure about.

No one was any the worse for wear, though (to my knowledge). And in some small way I maybe encouraged a few to be starting to be more adventurous in how they live their lives.

There are the halls to be readied as well, of course. Shifting tables and chairs and sweeping floors. That sort of thing at the start of the day.

It's a simple sort of therapy. And to have the place clean and looking good and to be readied like that for all the different people who'll be coming in, so that they're glad to come in and like the place - well, it makes all the work worthwhile.

I'm thinking that when I'm getting the place prepared. A bit like the Lord must have felt when he shifted things round and sorted things out in his universe to have the place ready for us.

We're all his children, of course. So that creator's instinct's in us all. And any creativity involves as well hard work.

Michaelangelo could spend three months simply looking at a block of stone and say that he'd been 'working'. Quite validly. But he also then spent months and months just chipping away and chiselling out and shaping, smoothing, teasing the stone into shape.

And that was part of the work as well.

Some of our time is spent in the 'thinking' mode of work. I mean here, as followers of Jesus in the world in which we live.

Looking at that block of stone which is the massive institution called 'the church'. Reflecting, pondering, discussing. Until the sort of shape of things envisaged for the future starts to get a bit more clear.

And then there's the long, laborious task of chipping and chiselling away until a work of art appears. A church which displays for the world of our day the beauty and glory of Christ.

It's called a work of art. And rightly so. Artists have to work.

The meeting we had of the leaders last night was a bit like that. Long, hard work again.

I think we're at the chisselling stage these days. We know where we'd like to be, and we're having to do all the chipping away 'til it starts to assume the shape we believe it requires.

The meeting went on until almost 10.30 at night. Way past bedtime for some of the folk. But I think the meeting was good. All those chip-chip blows of the metaphorical chisels in our hands helped us shape the thing some more.

We resolved to create a leadership body of 20 or so. Which is quite a major change for us and a sizeable reduction in its size (we have maybe 60 or so at the present).

But we've done the Michaelangelo bit of thinking over months. And we've figured that the way we exercise our leadership is something that must change. Its size, its role, the means by which that leadership is given - all that must change.

It's one of six (at least) big areas in the church's life which we recognise is vital to get right. What I've broadly flagged up for the people as essentially 'a servant leadership'.

So though the meeting went on and was way too late in finishing, it was nonetheless good.

I was speaking with one of the leaders again today and he used the word 'exciting' to describe how things now are beginning to look. And yes, I think it's exciting, too.

But the progress is not without cost. And the joys and excitement we know are matched in their turn by the griefs and the sorrows there are.

I've been out to see some folk again who know the pain bereavement brings.

Sheila died on Sunday. She was a sort of one-woman-instutution on her own. In the nicest sort of way. Warm and friendly, generous and kind. And you felt like the woman had been in with the bricks.

It's not that the whole place collapses when she died. But it feels like a huge big void is there. Almost like a subtle sense of child-like 'insecurity' starts creeping in.

Because somehow she was always there. Always up for a laugh. And yet with a keen, perceptive mind as well and able to articulate her thoughts so well. And now she's no longer there.

So we share and feel her family's grief as well. We're 'family' here and she was always an integral part of that throughout her life.

Not quite, in the literal sense, the 'royal' family. Thankfully.

But in the best sense truly so.