Friday Family Outings

We are intentionally looking for "England experiences" in these final weeks of our living in Thatcham.  Since Fridays are our designated day off, we use Fridays as a day for family time. Usually, our criteria are very simple.

1.  Fun

2.  Three year old friendly

3.  With an England "flavour"

This is really not too much to ask, and in fact, we have been quite successful in our Friday family outings.

We ventured out several Fridays ago to an inside museum that replicates a Victorian English town.  We were quite pleased with our choice and were looking forward to the experience.  It met all of the criteria (so we thought...).

England "flavour" - check

Three year old friendly - check

Fun - not so much

Upon arrival, our resident 3 year old climbed into her stroller, and off we went.  We purchased tickets (yes, we paid for this soon-to-be short-lived adventure), and we stepped back into time. Very pleased with ourselves we perused the exhibits, looked at the antique buses, cars, fire trucks, and wagons, and window shopped along the old town streets.

Then came the verdict, as stated by the discontent and convincing 3 year old:

"Let's go somewhere fun and play."

Yep, this pretty much sealed the deal for this Friday family outing.

In all fairness, the resident 3 year old wasn't simply being difficult.  She was actually rather creeped out by the "people" standing in the shops and sitting on the vehicles.  She was sort of confused by the large, dark roof that covered this "town."  (At one point, she even wanted to make a quick getaway through the wide open loading zone doorway.)  She had simply endured all that she could and knew good and well that this place for her did not equal fun.

Needless to say for our 3 year old, who by the way doesn't forget anything, this particular Friday family outing is without a doubt a faded memory.  No turning back for one last glimpse of the chemist or tobacconist or blacksmith or the actual working pub.  She was outta' there.

So, we resumed our Friday family outing at the park and playground by our house.  Definitely a sure thing for FUN!

Fun - check

More fun - check

A Meditation

We celebrated the Easter Offering Dedication Service last night for our Sunday evening worship. The Easter Offering is an annual mission emphasis for Women's Network of The Methodist Church. This order of service is crafted each year for churches to use, and the offering is taken for the Fund for World Mission.  Included within this service is a beautifully and faithfully written meditation.  I can take no credit, but I am compelled to share. 

HE WILL WALK

He will walk
A little in front of us
Towards Jerusalem

He will not be scared
Though we are apprehensive

If we try to discourage him,
He will recognise the devil in our voice,
And he will tell us as much
In no uncertain terms

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards Jerusalem.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Into controversy.

He will not be scared,
Though we are apprehensive.

He will argue with the intelligent,
Stop in their tracks the self-assured,
Touch the scabby,
Upset bank balances
By his outlandish behaviour in the sanctuary,
And weep in public.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards Jerusalem.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Into Gethsemane.

He will not be scared,
Though we are apprehensive.

He will sweat blood
And ask God if there is another way,
And when God says no,
He will take the traitor’s kiss,
The soldier’s spit
The bile and venom from the princes of religion.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards the cross.

He will walk
A little in front of us
Towards Calvary.

He will not be scared,
No,
He will not be scared.

He will feel the pain
Of wood and nails;
But more than this
He will feel the weight
of all the evil,
all the malice,
all the pettiness,
all the sin of the world
heaped upon his shoulders.
He will not throw off that weight
Though he could.

He will not give back evil for evil,
Return malice for malice,
Take revenge on the petty minded,
Or spew out hate
On all who have despised or rejected him.

He will not give back the sin of the world,
He will take it away…
Into death, into hell,
So that he can lead us into heaven.

Then he will go on again,
In faith,
Towards resurrection.

He will walk
A little behind us
Through the graveyard.

He will wait
Until we realize that he has died
And admit our complicity in his life’s ending.

Then he will come up behind us,
And say our name,
So that we can say his,
For ever.

(The Easter Offering service was prepared by Sandra Lewer, past President of Women’s Network, with the help of the Connexional Team’s Communication Office.)

A Village Procession

I exited the front doors of St. Mary's Church with the cross firmly in tow.  I followed the path through the church yard, entering Swan Street with my plain, black robe billowing in the misty breeze.

I traveled along the pavement (the sidewalk) in Kingsclere

past the hair salon

          past the gallery

                   past the cafe

                            past the grocery store

                                    past the butcher

                                            past the chemist

                                                     past the pub

until I reached St. Peter and St. Paul Church.

I entered the front doors and leaned the cross at the front.  This cross-bearing was profoundly strange and wonderful.  This was my own early start to Good Friday.

Then, our collective worship began, and we ushered in the truth and the darkness of the cross.  We prayed together.  We sang together.  We followed the cross together along the pavement on Swan Street

                                                       past the pub

                                             past the chemist

                                    past the butcher

                           past the grocery store

                  past the cafe

          past the gallery

past the hair salon

until we reached St. Mary's Church yard.

"It is finished."

One by one the Good Friday crowd placed red carnations at the foot of the same cross that had quietly and prominently led our procession.  The bed of red carnations organically (and unexpectedly) formed into the shape of a prickly crown of thorns beneath the cross.  There was no turning back.  We were living into the memory of our crucified Lord.

It was finished...

but it was not the end.

The red carnation crown of thorns formed by the hands of humanity was transformed into a never-ending ring of snowy white, resurrection lilies, bearing witness to our God of life and our risen Lord.

In the end, it wasn't just a Good Friday procession of life-draining finality.  It was a procession aiming in the direction of life-giving grace and salvation for an Easter people.  That is where our walk along Swan Street would ultimately take us--to the empty tomb, to the resurrection, to hope, to life!

Christ is risen!

Christ is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

A Toe-Tapping Palm Sunday

It wasn't until this past Sunday that I realized I had not really planned or been involved in a more traditional observance of Palm Sunday in five years. You know...the donkey, the road, the Hosannas, the waving palms, and the little children.  In fact, last year I missed out all together because my Palm Sunday involved high fever, aching body, and full blown influenza.

In recent years (other than the last), I have been privileged to share in the Cashiers UMC choir presentation on Palm Sunday.  And what a faithful presentation they offer thanks to Tom Adams (director of music) and Bryan Heller (pianist) and many wonderful choir singers and musicians.  (Although no longer present in Cashiers, I was still able to read online about the powerful message that was offered by the choir once again.)

With this said, my new location this year afforded me the opportunity to share in Palm Sunday with all of its traditional elements as well as some new experiences too.  Thatcham Methodist Church joined with St. Barnabas Church (Anglican) for the morning.  Many of us gathered half an hour early to prepare for our Palm Sunday processional between the two churches.  I had never before processed outdoors on Palm Sunday.  A cross led the way.  We followed along the roads of Thatcham, bearing witness through action of our allegiance to Jesus the King.

Our ecumenical worship enhanced the celebratory and joyful spirit of Palm Sunday, and we altogether were blessed, especially with the parade of children.  In they came, waving their paper towel roll/shredded newspaper palm branches, and they were proclaiming, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming!  Hosanna!  Jesus is coming!"

As a pastor, it was a joy to see and experience such an uplifting and contagious act of worship.  As a mother, it was simply beautiful to watch my daughter with her palm branch in hand, proclaiming the announcement, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming," while grinning from ear to ear.  And how wonderful that those very words, "Hosanna!  Jesus is coming," have been echoing in our home and in our cars and in our lives ever since she marched alongside her Sunday school friends on Palm Sunday morning!

Thankfully, my Palm Sunday did not end there.  I finished out the day with an evening service for the older adults and community friends at the local sheltered housing facility in Kingsclere.  With service sheet in one hand and the paper towel roll/shredded newspaper palm branch in the other, I entered for another Palm Sunday celebration.  We opened with our own "Hosannas!" We reflected upon Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  And we sang lots and lots of hymns, which are chosen by this residential community for the services.

As meaningful as it was for me to be leading the Palm Sunday worship service that evening, the highlight came while we were singing our closing hymn, Onward, Christian Soldiers.  If I must be truthful, this probably would not have been one of my song picks for Palm Sunday had I been doing the choosing, but there is no doubt that this hymn, its sound, and its rhythm strike a particular cord and resonate well with this faithful generation of Christians.

"Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before," we proclaimed in song.  And then I noticed it:  the rhythmic toe-tapping.  Almost everyone had at least one foot moving to the marching beat.  Although a moment shared only with myself in my own thoughts, it too was an uplifting and contagious Palm Sunday act of worship.  We marched together, as if on the road!  We marched together, as followers of Jesus the King!  And you can imagine that I marched my way right out of Rose Hodson Court with thanksgiving for this wonderful, toe-tapping Palm Sunday!

Scenic Journey

Once again, I have been away from this "riverbank" of reflection too long, allowing too many weeks to pass in rather a blur.  Thanks to springtime I have regained an awareness and sensitivity to daily life that can so often be suppressed.

We have spent more time outside in March and April (so far) since they have brought dry and sunny instead wet and cloudy.  We have taken advantage of the well-planned walking paths, the warmth, and the long days.  And, oh, what we have seen along the way!

Lots and lots of daffodils!

Hippopotami at Marwell Zoo!

Pristine gardens at Hampton Court Palace!

Sunny afternoons at the pub!

And adorable little lambs!

Yes!  Oh, what we have seen along the way!  How could I not be sensitive and aware of this scenery, especially when accompanied by a very willing and curious  3 year old who LOVES to walk anywhere at anytime?  It has been warm and exciting and bright and wonderful and engaging and freeing and experiential and fun!  And I anticipate so much more beauty along this ongoing, scenic journey!