Should you have a spare five minutes or ten, do feel free to wander over to my other blog here:
Pull up a chair, invite your friends, help yourself to biscuits. Basically I need (correction – I WANT ;)) to try and bump up my stats. If this fails, I might be forced to enrol on that How To Blog Anglicanly course that Dave mentioned.
It’s the little things that make all the difference. This week hasn’t exactly been the easiest, what with Mr M away in The States for a fortnight and both little M and I suffering with nasty, chesty coughs. I was off work for two days, and only struggled in for the remaining three as I had a vaguely important 😉 event coming up at the weekend. Namely the novicing of myself and another lady, both aspiring ‘Seabirds.’ We’ve both had our own problems with family and ill health recently, and certainly, there was one point during the week when I was feeling so grotty that I began to wonder whether it might be better to ask to pospone until such time as I was able to make my pledge without sounding like somebody audtioning for a Budweiser ad. Hardly the most auspicious leadup. Never mind, all went well on the day. We both went to an event at my church beforehand, then after nearly missing our train because of the arrival of the local secondary school’s Morocco trip just as we were trying to buy our tickets, and our experience with The Bus That Would Not Stop to pick up its passengers, we made it to our destination with time to spare.
In the event, all went smoothly. X, my fellow would-be seabird – had kindly supplied me with the requisite envelope in which to place my rule of life prior to its presentation. (She’s more organised than me, I fear.) And I double-checked before sealing it to make sure that I’d not inserted something like my shopping list in there by mistake! Well, copious draughts of expectorant medicine aren’t the world’s best aids to clear thinking at the best of times. On the other hand, the combination of that and a head full of slime so preoccupied me that I forgot to be nervous. So, as we said afterwards…we’ve done it! ‘Til the next time…
But anyway, why the wild witterings and photos? Well, there I was before the service this morning, feeling a bit ‘bleah’ and washed out. TBH, my feelings about my own home church have been, to put it politely, ‘ambivalent’ lately. Then up comes Y – totally unexpectedly, with this beautiful little butterfly bookmark for me. To say I was gobsmacked would be too crude. Touched is far more apt. She’d not known anything about the Seabird business, but just that little, thoughtful action gave me just enough ‘oomph’ to get through the service that followed.
One of the First Order Franciscan sisters once said to me that it’s the little things, the small, often unoticed acts that really matter. A smile, a quiet word of encouragement, perhaps. So very true. Remind me to remember that next time I’m tempted to overindulge in the proverbial navel-gazing.
Miffcat in all HIS glory.
Our lawn in all its glory.
For the next four days at least, which is why you might just find me here more often than I’ve been of late. Should you be in need of some more serious reading matter on the theme (or are suffering from insomnia) , do feel free to drop by my other blog green_patches/2007/03/storks_and_prun.html I miss the sense of community there is on the wibsite. So far my only comments have been from Mr Miff and my tutor.
Spring has sprung, I’m a year older, and the Easter break has started. Like Rosamundi, I have a shiny new toy of newness; the first camera I’ve had to myself since the huge black and white polaroid bought for me on my sixteenth birthday. I’m sure you’ll enjoy being a showcase for my wonderful creations ( headless bodies and everyday objects snapped from unusual angles being my speciality!)
So yes, the grass is riz and all that – and I started the break as I mean to go on by taking myself down to the mid-week that isn’t really a midweek Holy Communion service at church. As I set off Ms Miffy stumbled out onto the landing, expressing regret that she’d not woken up in time to come with me. (Though on reflection, she may have been referring to the shopping I was going to do afterwards). Just as well. Being the day it is, we were focussing on Christ’s washing of the disciples feet. Thankfully, there will be no re-enactments taking place this year. (Although we were asked to reflect on what might be a suitably symbolic contemporary alternative.) The mind boggles. The thought of Ms Miffy – who has a ‘thing’ (not!) about feet – being confronted by someone’s hairy feet emerging from their woolly socks doesn’t bear thinking about. She would have burst from her seat and run screaming out into the marketplace before you could say ‘self-giving!’
We had a wander round town – looking for presents for the Man Who Has Everything. Remarkably successful, as it turns out. A shopping problem shared is indeed a shopping problem halved. And, as Nice Cups of Tea Out are prohibited under my Lent regi (I mean challenge), we returned home, and had a nice, girly time in the kitchen, with offspring baking a secret something or other for Mr M’s upcoming birthday, whilst I read out selected (and hilarious ) excerpts from M Bremmer’s ‘Enquire Within Upon Everything,’ household bible and doorstop. In the unlikely event that Ms M receives an invitation to an ‘at home,’ she will know exactly how to conduct herself! She also knows the correct proceedure for hiring a nanny, and how to remove stains from priceless antique silks. NOT skills that will serve her when she flies the atlantic come the summer. However, she IS practising perfecting her ‘cute English accent.’