Category Archives: vocational ponderings

Catching Up and Journeying On

All ready for

All ready for pilgrimage!

Coast Path, Devon. I thought I’d got this one the right way up just now; never mind – it was some walk!

Arrival at Exeter Cathedral.

Since then, we’ve had the drama of the dog and the nectarine stone, I’ve spent a fortune at the dentist (only I could manage to break a tooth on a Greenbelt bacon butty), the gippy festival tum is under control,the eye infection is getting that way. You’d not guess from all that griping that I actually had a Good Time, would you, but – don’t faint – I did!

And now? Several new challenges for the autumn – all very exciting in my usual quiet, Miffyesque kind of way. Keep Calm And Carry On.

Ehrm. I’ve been away too long. It doesn’t seem to want to publish links. OK – see my Growing Greenpatches blog for my Greenbelt musings.

Fooling about

The Church Times back page interview today was with Third Order Franciscan tertiary Paul Alexander. I’ve given it a mention over on my Greenpatches blog. He talks about the imperative to hold onto the Franciscan characteristics of joy, foolishness and daring in the midst of a growing and changing order. Interesting. I’ve been around TSSF for nearly five years now, and, still sometimes find it difficult to pin down that elusive Franciscan something or other. Say Benedictine? Yup, I’ve got it. Dominican? I can catch a glimpse. Franciscan? Hmmm. Although I’ll admit that at its best, the Order does have its fair share of subversive personalities, (aka awkward so and sos). Subversive in a restrained, Anglican manner, of course!

Self included. Yes, I have my moments, my ‘Barbara Woodehouse blowing up horses’ noses moments). Like last night’s church prayer group, where the passage chosen for Lectio was the one from Numbers 11 describing God’s provision of quails to feed the starving Israelites in the desert. “Listen for the word that is spoken to you.” Have you read that passage? Yes, really? Go on, have a peep. And then tell me you’d be able to keep your head when all about you seem oblivious to the phrase that was sending me into waves of silent hysteria: No one gathered less than ten homers. Thank the Lord that we hadn’t chosen Ignatian imaginative contemplation that night! (And I keep saying I have no pictorial imagination!).

To restore the tone of the proceedings, mercifully there was another phrase that stuck out for me – so I managed to sort myself out by the end of the session. Well, it was a challenging passage. The spirit blows where it will etc. Only in my case, it seems to do it by way of my funnybone. I must be a bona fide Franciscan after all.

Suitable restrained “Whoopee!”

Re “Grump,”. Good news! \o/ :D. Well I never! I shall have to go out and equip myself with protective headgear in case of offerings from on high – aka Seabirds, (the non Franciscan kind). Plus copious supplies of industrial strength hairspray. My hair and sea breezes have never got on well together; the windswept look doesn’t suit a matron of my advanced years.

More good news. Mr M, newly home from his European tour, just learned that he came 200th out of 9,500 riders in the Etape Du Tour!



I’m turning into a Grumpy Old Woman post the New And Significant Experience I mentioned over in my other blog. Experience being an interview for a course down in the land of Brisk Sea Breezes, Seabirds (the non Francsican variety – smudgie, you might guess where ) and…much to my joy certain end of line retail outlets. (Patron Saint of the High Street, here I come!) Anyway, this was the end of last week, so of course I’m now in the midst of the usual post-interview entrail examinings and hand-wringings: Did I give the incorrect impression here, forget to mention that there, what did they reallly mean when they said such and such…and so on. And don’t get started on the old What Ifs, If onlys and attempts to constuct numerous ‘Plan Bs’ of such complexity that it’d give Enstein a migraine. Oh, and if anybody dares start on the ‘Ah yes, but maybe it isn’t where God wants you to be’ etc etc, I shall gladly put aside Franciscan humility and bop them one over the head with a blunt instrument.

To top it all – the old toothache – wonky gums have caught up with me and I’m living in a happy haze of Ibuprofen and Bonjela. Now, what was it folk used to rub on their baby’s gums? Gin?