This morning I was awoken at 5.30am by a cat vigorously plucking away at the loose bit of landing carpet which has come away from the bar underneath our bedroom door. The landing carpet in Barton Place was laid in a similarly shambolic manner (because I laid it) so they used to do that back there too. Fortunately, I was reasonably well rested, having fallen asleep rather early on the living room rug after half-a-bottle of wine (thank you, Andrew), a nice Chinese (thank you, Canton takeaway) and half a large bar of Galaxy (thank you, alcohol-induced lowered self-will), with Paul watching all the episodes of 'Airport Live' he missed during the week we've had no TV (thank you Rev'd Training Incumbent, for drawing husband's attention to this).
At 7am, or thereabouts, a tiny voice will appear over the baby monitor, and earnestly say something like "ro-ro-ro", "da-da-da", "ayyy" or "geh-geh", any of which may be loosely interpreted as "oy, I'm awake you know, bring me my milk!" But I'll use the hour or so before this happens to write what will probably be my last post, at least on this blog.
So, I'm getting ordained in precisely 1 week.
For the last little while I've been thinking a lot about deservedness. As I reflect on these last couple of years the only thing I can think is that I haven't deserved any of it. Going right back to the process of discernment and the BAP, there was no way I deserved to get that letter from the Bishop saying that - yes - the BAP were recommending me for training. Looking around me at St David's, I was always aware that the vast majority of people were older than me, had been Christians for longer, and had more experience in a whole host of the skills and qualities which you're asked to evidence during the discernment process - so why on earth should I be the one with the cheek to say I think God is calling me to a role of leadership and service in the church, to break bread and minister to his people as Priest?
Reflecting on my experience at college, again, I've not deserved any of what I've received in material terms. Mr A and I rocked up at Cuddesdon just shy of two years ago. We were given a lovely flat with no bills to pay, plus a student grant enough to live on, and invited in gracious hospitality to three meals a day. I was enrolled on a Masters at one of the top Universities in the world and given the priviledge of learning from, and alongside, some very fine people. Why invest so much in me? Not because I'd done anything to deserve it, but because the Church believed that God was calling me to serve as Priest. In the secular world, you'd have to had done a lot of climbing the ladder before a company invested so much in your continued training. Either that or signed a contract saying you'd pay it all back if you changed your mind or didn't complete the course. I was asked to sign no such contract.
And here I am in a large house with nice furniture (resettlement grant), with no rent or mortgage to pay. Materially speaking, I have been given all I need. A stipend is not a huge amount of money, but it's supposed to be enough to take away financial worry and allow you to concentrate on ministry. So I'll never own a sports car, but if all I want in life is food on the table (and probably to be able to visit the Canton Chinese takeaway on a weekly basis) and occasionally go on holiday somewhere reasonably nice, that will be ok. But I haven't deserved it.
We didn't really deserve Arthur. People say that children are a gift and that really is the case. I don't want to get all soppy and go on for paragraphs about his lovely little face, but I could. In a few minutes I'll go upstairs and open the curtains and he'll greet me with a big smile and an excited wave of the arms. As parents, babies put their trust in us to look after them. It's a huge responsibility, and as they grow up there's any number of things we can do to break that trust. But their initial, primal instinct is to trust Mum and Dad to give them all they need. They haven't seen our CVs, haven't asked whether we have any prior experience in bottle-making-up or nappy-changing or making decisions about administration of Calpol. So we haven't deserved their trust. But from the first day they put themselves fully into our care.
I won't deserve to wear clericals or to be called 'Reverend' or any of that stuff. And I won't deserve occupation of the place of trust that any of that brings. This non-deservedness is a hard thing to accept, but one which I feel is important to maintain. The moment anyone, clergy or not, decides that the gifts God has given them are a result of their own deservedness, something is lost. 'Grace' is the greatest term in the Christian vocabulary, it is what everything in the Christian faith comes down to. A gift freely given, and undeserved.
Anyway, I've written this Blog post having been unsure of how it will end. But standing in awe of God's Grace would seem to be the ultimate place. So I will sign off with that thought, and ordination looming, into a future which will be marked by as-yet-unknown things, to go to places I do not deserve to go, to meet people I do not deserve to meet, and do things I do not deserve to do, but to embrace it all because of God's grace.
"For the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name."
Sunday 23 June 2013
Thursday 13 June 2013
Journeys End, Journeys Begin #2
This time last week I was at my last ever Cuddesdon Bright Hour, somewhat intoxicated on the house white, having been at the very reflective Leavers' retreat all day. Kate and I did a sketch about surviving college with a baby and good fun was had by all.
Tonight I am sitting in a large and eerily quiet house (no TV aerial!) in the centre of Bridgwater, having just eaten my own bodyweight of beef with green pepper and egg fried rice from the local Chinese (which I must say, was excellent).
What's happened in the last week?
Well, Friday was the Leavers' service. I donned my brand new cassock, my brand new stole (with sheep and hills and a river on it!) was blessed, and all of a sudden, through the West Door of All Saints, as so many have before, I left college! Hugs and handshakes and "good lucks" were had by all. We pottered home.
Having set aside Saturday to do 'practical things' we discovered there was nothing still to do, so generally faffed about. Sunday was good. We went to a barbecue with my lovely cell group, the Prayer Bears (yep, I know...) and in the evening Kate and I polished off a bottle of bubbly.
On Monday, at 9.30am, as they had promised, a MASSIVE lorry backed up to Runcie. Seriously, you have never seen a lorry so big. Within 3-and-a-half hours our flat was empty and the lorry was 1/4 full (honestly... the lorry was far too big!) Craig and Steve from Pickfords had picked and packed and carried everything we own down 4 flights of stairs, and off they went. We took a turn around the empty flat with Arthur waving "bye bye kitchen", "bye bye bedroom" etc. etc., dropped the keys back and headed that old familiar route down the M4 and M5 for the last time in a while. We picked up the keys to our Curate's House from a secret location where they had been left by Rev Will. 8 years after leaving, we were residents of the TA postcode again!
We stayed overnight at Mum and Dad's, and on Tuesday Craig and Steve rocked up at the Curate's House. It took them an impressive hour to move everything in, and they even offered to unpack for us (I declined... they'd already seen my underwear once!)
Tuesday was mainly spent wandering around in a daze. The Curate's House really is huge. Everything about it feels big. When people build houses nowadays, they usually build them quite economically, but not the Victorians! The ceilings are around 10ft high! I'm exhausted just climbing the stairs! It took all the brain power I had to contemplate how to unpack the contents of the 1 kitchen drawer we had in our Runcie kitchen into the 16 drawers of our new kitchen, and our two small two-seater sofas look pretty sad in the living room.
Wednesday was a far more productive day. Mum and Dad came over to help. Mum entertained Arthur so we could get the boxes unpacked quicker, and Dad strimmed the jungle of a garden, revealing a rather neat lawn beneath!
Today, we've mainly been hanging curtains, and now that they're up we're intending to spend our first night sleeping here tonight.
Bridgwater's a pretty nice place. I've no idea where it gets its sometimes dubious reputation - everyone we've met has been so friendly, especially our new neighbours who have all popped past to say welcome. I think we're going to get on very well.
I'll miss Cuddesdon a lot. But having got here I'm sure this is where I need to be. The right time and the right place.
Tonight I am sitting in a large and eerily quiet house (no TV aerial!) in the centre of Bridgwater, having just eaten my own bodyweight of beef with green pepper and egg fried rice from the local Chinese (which I must say, was excellent).
What's happened in the last week?
Well, Friday was the Leavers' service. I donned my brand new cassock, my brand new stole (with sheep and hills and a river on it!) was blessed, and all of a sudden, through the West Door of All Saints, as so many have before, I left college! Hugs and handshakes and "good lucks" were had by all. We pottered home.
Having set aside Saturday to do 'practical things' we discovered there was nothing still to do, so generally faffed about. Sunday was good. We went to a barbecue with my lovely cell group, the Prayer Bears (yep, I know...) and in the evening Kate and I polished off a bottle of bubbly.
On Monday, at 9.30am, as they had promised, a MASSIVE lorry backed up to Runcie. Seriously, you have never seen a lorry so big. Within 3-and-a-half hours our flat was empty and the lorry was 1/4 full (honestly... the lorry was far too big!) Craig and Steve from Pickfords had picked and packed and carried everything we own down 4 flights of stairs, and off they went. We took a turn around the empty flat with Arthur waving "bye bye kitchen", "bye bye bedroom" etc. etc., dropped the keys back and headed that old familiar route down the M4 and M5 for the last time in a while. We picked up the keys to our Curate's House from a secret location where they had been left by Rev Will. 8 years after leaving, we were residents of the TA postcode again!
We stayed overnight at Mum and Dad's, and on Tuesday Craig and Steve rocked up at the Curate's House. It took them an impressive hour to move everything in, and they even offered to unpack for us (I declined... they'd already seen my underwear once!)
Tuesday was mainly spent wandering around in a daze. The Curate's House really is huge. Everything about it feels big. When people build houses nowadays, they usually build them quite economically, but not the Victorians! The ceilings are around 10ft high! I'm exhausted just climbing the stairs! It took all the brain power I had to contemplate how to unpack the contents of the 1 kitchen drawer we had in our Runcie kitchen into the 16 drawers of our new kitchen, and our two small two-seater sofas look pretty sad in the living room.
Wednesday was a far more productive day. Mum and Dad came over to help. Mum entertained Arthur so we could get the boxes unpacked quicker, and Dad strimmed the jungle of a garden, revealing a rather neat lawn beneath!
Today, we've mainly been hanging curtains, and now that they're up we're intending to spend our first night sleeping here tonight.
Bridgwater's a pretty nice place. I've no idea where it gets its sometimes dubious reputation - everyone we've met has been so friendly, especially our new neighbours who have all popped past to say welcome. I think we're going to get on very well.
I'll miss Cuddesdon a lot. But having got here I'm sure this is where I need to be. The right time and the right place.
Saturday 1 June 2013
Baby Boomers
This morning was Joseph's baptism. It was a very moving service, and the first baptism to be held in the new Edward King chapel. Joseph's Dad, Andrew, spoke beautifully about God's love as being a bit like a boat. Tim, who performed the baptism, linked this image to a baby cradled in arms.
Looking around the chapel, I reflected on how the community has grown in the last 2 years. Specifically, the number of babies we've had since I started. If my memory serves me right, in the time I have been here there have been 10 babies born. And there are plenty more on the way!
Why are so many babies born at Cuddesdon?
On the face of it, it is, for many, not an inconvenient time to have a baby. Many people entering college fit into that demographic of 20 or 30-somethings married in the last few years and ready to start a family, or with one or two young children and wanting more. Spouses have often had to leave employment to move to Cuddesdon, so it can form a natural career break. For female ordinands, training can be tailored around pregnancy a little easier than can the first couple of years of a Curacy.
But is there more to it than that?
I wonder whether living in this sort of community and having babies goes together so well because, when you're going through pregnancy and the first few months of parenthood, you really, really need community. You'll remember me saying that, when Arthur was born, lasagnes would spontaneously turn up on our doorstep every evening. That simply wouldn't happen anywhere else. Arthur's wardrobe also consists of about 80% borrowed clothes and hand-me-downs. Having other babies around me has been important for Arthur's development, and knowing there are other parents of young children around to ask for advice has been, quite literally, a Godsend.
I guess this is why other people go to parent and baby/toddler groups. I just happen to live in one!
Babies surely need community then. But I'm also convinced that community needs babies. There's something important about a community living in the reality of new life coming into the world. And not just the quaint, cute side of it, but the real side of it. My own pregnancy and Arthur's birth and what has happened since were made particularly difficult due to his medical problems, but since being at Cuddesdon I've learnt that no parent has an easy ride, and some people can go through an incredibly hard time in the process of conception, pregnancy, birth and caring for a baby for a number of reasons. Somehow, the extremes of life - suffering and joy - come together in babies, and it seems somehow right that this is a feature of this community.
Looking wider, since I've been at Cuddesdon we've also seen serious illness and more recently, sadly, the death of our dear Bursar, David. And the presence of the Sisters has brought people of an older age to our community. The Holy Hill isn't some University campus where 20-somethings sit exams and philosophise for the sake of it. It's a real, living breathing place which sees every aspect of life. Babies are just one element of that.
Well, there's my tuppance for the day. It's also come to my attention that today is 1st June and so for the first time I can say I'm going to be ordained this month. Now that's a bit terrifying. Still more terrifying, by this time next week I'll have technically left college (although we'll be staying in our flat until Monday 10th!)
And, even more pressingly, Arthur seems to have worked out, as of yesterday, that particular skill of walking his hands forward and stretching one leg out behind him in order to reach a far away object. Which means it's only a matter of days until he figures that by bringing the other leg round too he will be able to achieve the forward propulsion he's been desiring for so many weeks!
Better get some rest now. I'm going to need the energy!
Looking around the chapel, I reflected on how the community has grown in the last 2 years. Specifically, the number of babies we've had since I started. If my memory serves me right, in the time I have been here there have been 10 babies born. And there are plenty more on the way!
Why are so many babies born at Cuddesdon?
On the face of it, it is, for many, not an inconvenient time to have a baby. Many people entering college fit into that demographic of 20 or 30-somethings married in the last few years and ready to start a family, or with one or two young children and wanting more. Spouses have often had to leave employment to move to Cuddesdon, so it can form a natural career break. For female ordinands, training can be tailored around pregnancy a little easier than can the first couple of years of a Curacy.
But is there more to it than that?
I wonder whether living in this sort of community and having babies goes together so well because, when you're going through pregnancy and the first few months of parenthood, you really, really need community. You'll remember me saying that, when Arthur was born, lasagnes would spontaneously turn up on our doorstep every evening. That simply wouldn't happen anywhere else. Arthur's wardrobe also consists of about 80% borrowed clothes and hand-me-downs. Having other babies around me has been important for Arthur's development, and knowing there are other parents of young children around to ask for advice has been, quite literally, a Godsend.
I guess this is why other people go to parent and baby/toddler groups. I just happen to live in one!
Babies surely need community then. But I'm also convinced that community needs babies. There's something important about a community living in the reality of new life coming into the world. And not just the quaint, cute side of it, but the real side of it. My own pregnancy and Arthur's birth and what has happened since were made particularly difficult due to his medical problems, but since being at Cuddesdon I've learnt that no parent has an easy ride, and some people can go through an incredibly hard time in the process of conception, pregnancy, birth and caring for a baby for a number of reasons. Somehow, the extremes of life - suffering and joy - come together in babies, and it seems somehow right that this is a feature of this community.
Looking wider, since I've been at Cuddesdon we've also seen serious illness and more recently, sadly, the death of our dear Bursar, David. And the presence of the Sisters has brought people of an older age to our community. The Holy Hill isn't some University campus where 20-somethings sit exams and philosophise for the sake of it. It's a real, living breathing place which sees every aspect of life. Babies are just one element of that.
Well, there's my tuppance for the day. It's also come to my attention that today is 1st June and so for the first time I can say I'm going to be ordained this month. Now that's a bit terrifying. Still more terrifying, by this time next week I'll have technically left college (although we'll be staying in our flat until Monday 10th!)
And, even more pressingly, Arthur seems to have worked out, as of yesterday, that particular skill of walking his hands forward and stretching one leg out behind him in order to reach a far away object. Which means it's only a matter of days until he figures that by bringing the other leg round too he will be able to achieve the forward propulsion he's been desiring for so many weeks!
Better get some rest now. I'm going to need the energy!
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