Mr A and I have recently discovered a new thing. It is called CBeebies.
Before you shake your heads in disapproval at our plopping poor young Arthur in front of the goggle-box which is sure to have turned his brain to mush before he reaches his first birthday, I mitigate this statement by saying we only put it on for a very set amount of time every day and it is really rather a useful thing in allowing Mr A and I to go about our morning routine while keeping Arthur suitably entertained. Arthur is still at the age where essentially any TV programme with movement, colour and familiar theme tunes will provoke an enthusiastic reaction (as is seen by his reaction to 'Pointless' - the only other TV programme he watches on a daily basis!) but somehow putting him in front of children's TV seems more wholesome parenting!
I must say, I'm finding the simple moral messages of pre-school TV quite refreshing. It's also amazingly weird how efficient it is at structuring our mornings.
I always know whether Morning Prayer has overrun or not by whether I catch the end-credits of train-based series Chuggington (7.50am-8am). The morning then proceeds as follows -
8am-8.05am - Woolly and Tig - Dull and a bit too sickly-sweet for my taste. Featuring a cuddly-toy spider and a little girl. Normally make a cup of tea for the 5 minutes while this is on.
8.05am-8.20am - Mike the Knight - Very much forms the heart of my daily CBeebies experience. More on this later.
8.20am-8.30am - Timmy Time - Aardman's offering to Pre-Schoolers. Smaller version of Shaun the Sheep. I'm often not entirely sure of the storyline because there isn't any dialogue but the characters are very cute and cuddly.
Very often we head out to College Breakfast at this point, but if we stay at home we move on to -
8.30am-8.40am - Pingu - A blast from the past. Doesn't seem to have changed much since I watched it. Again, because my attention isn't always fully on the TV I often miss the plot.
8.40am - 9am - Me Too - If I haven't headed into college by this point it's worth holding on for this rare treat. The endlessly enthusiastic Nanny Murray provides a childminding service while we follow the parents of children about their daily business.
If we reach The Koala Brothers we have gone too far and should really be doing something more productive.
Anyway, back to Mike. Perhaps I identify with him because he's "a trainee Knight" (as I am a trainee priest) and "every day is an adventure" (as I imagine Curacy will be). For those of you unfamiliar with his work (most of you) here's a summary...
Essentially, Mike, who lives in some form of olden-days settlement complete with a King, Queen, Dragons, Wizards, Vikings, Trolls etc. comes up with a 'mission' every episode. This mission is always very well-intentioned and is normally related to helping people (link to Community-based mission?) Once he has identified his mission, normally about 1/3 way through the episode he declares "I'm Mike the Knight and my mission is to..." in such an enthusiastic voice that you're already anticipating it going wrong. The thing is, Mike, while naturally well-intentioned, has numerous character-flaws He's quite arrogant and tends to take on tasks that are simply too big for him. He's also, let's face it, very often simply a bit dim. His mission, therefore, very quickly goes wrong. By 2/3 through the episode, poor Mike is usually left standing there in his armour with a very downturned mouth lamenting that everything has gone wrong. He will then talk things through with one of his friends (theological reflection?) and identify where things have gone wrong, which necessarily leads to Mike punching the air and declaring "it's time to be a Knight and do it right!" After which, of course, all things are made well. The whole episode is then summarised by a Minstrel and we the viewer are left singing along with the dangerously funky closing theme "be a Knight, do it right, you can be a hero too..."
So, I'm less than 3 weeks from leaving Ripon College Cuddesdon. There's been times when I've been desperate for this time to hurry up and come, but I'm now feeling really quite sad it's almost time to say goodbye, while also excited about what happens next. Ordination is still an event I can only sum up with a non-cheesy understanding of the word 'awesome' (i.e. sort of terrifying and amazing!) I can't quite believe it's all going to happen, but it is, and soon. I'm keen to 'end well' here and enjoy every moment of the next 20 days. And then it's out into the big wide world of ministry, knowing, much like Mike, that I have set myself up to fail miserably but have wonderful moments too. Nothing will go quite to plan, but it's time to trust in God and hopefully things will be just about alright.
It's time to be a Curate and do it right!
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Monday, 22 April 2013
Back to School
When I was a youngster I was an avid Enid Blyton fan. My favourite series of all was, I think, Malory Towers. There was something very exciting about the idea of boarding school and all the hijinx that could be got up to. Not that I was the sort of child who would have actually got up to much hijinx, but it was certainly fun to read about.
As we drove to past the village sign to Cuddesdon the July before last and caught the first glimpse of college, I remember trying to summon a quote from the first chapter of the first book of Malory Towers. It goes something like - "Darrell craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the school she would call home for the next five years..." Anyone who has driven into Cuddesdon will know the view I mean - looking across the field towards the back of the Runcie buildings and the college beyond. The roofs and chimneys and bell. The view has altered a bit in the last few years, but the principal is still the same. Did I say principal? - I mean, principle. I mean, the view is still very nice.
Cuddesdon has that sort of boarding school feel about it, and that first term had the feel of starting school. All those worries around making friends and keeping up with the work and figuring out how on earth you manage to be in the correct place at the correct time. Soon they gave way to familiarity and routine - why, of course evening prayer is at 5.15pm on some nights and 5.45pm on others! And of course we enter dinner through a different door on a Wednesday night! And of course you get kippers for breakfast on a Tuesday!
And now it's back to school for the last time. As I walked into chapel this morning and looked around the familiar faces in the slightly less-familiar building it felt like the-beginning-of-the-end-of-the-beginning. And as we had our annual 'school photograph' taken this afternoon, I realised it would not be long before this photo - Leavers, 2013 - hanging somewhere in a corridor in College House would be all that would be left of me at Cuddesdon. Removals are booked for precisely 7 weeks time. We're nearly there.
But it's not time to be sentimental. 2 years isn't actually a huge amount of time and, in a sense, it's only ever felt 'transitional'. There have been times this year when Arthur's situation has forced me to detach myself from college almost entirely, and it's a great pity that I feel I still don't know some of the first year as well as I should.
But I need to move on from any regrets now and look to the future. For the next 7 weeks I will be mainly getting as much of my dissertation done as is possible, eating as much free food as is possible and swotting up on all those things I think I really ought to know pre-ordination.
Time to polish those shoes and sharpen those pencils for one final time. Term 6 of 6 is upon us. Over and out!
As we drove to past the village sign to Cuddesdon the July before last and caught the first glimpse of college, I remember trying to summon a quote from the first chapter of the first book of Malory Towers. It goes something like - "Darrell craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the school she would call home for the next five years..." Anyone who has driven into Cuddesdon will know the view I mean - looking across the field towards the back of the Runcie buildings and the college beyond. The roofs and chimneys and bell. The view has altered a bit in the last few years, but the principal is still the same. Did I say principal? - I mean, principle. I mean, the view is still very nice.
Cuddesdon has that sort of boarding school feel about it, and that first term had the feel of starting school. All those worries around making friends and keeping up with the work and figuring out how on earth you manage to be in the correct place at the correct time. Soon they gave way to familiarity and routine - why, of course evening prayer is at 5.15pm on some nights and 5.45pm on others! And of course we enter dinner through a different door on a Wednesday night! And of course you get kippers for breakfast on a Tuesday!
And now it's back to school for the last time. As I walked into chapel this morning and looked around the familiar faces in the slightly less-familiar building it felt like the-beginning-of-the-end-of-the-beginning. And as we had our annual 'school photograph' taken this afternoon, I realised it would not be long before this photo - Leavers, 2013 - hanging somewhere in a corridor in College House would be all that would be left of me at Cuddesdon. Removals are booked for precisely 7 weeks time. We're nearly there.
But it's not time to be sentimental. 2 years isn't actually a huge amount of time and, in a sense, it's only ever felt 'transitional'. There have been times this year when Arthur's situation has forced me to detach myself from college almost entirely, and it's a great pity that I feel I still don't know some of the first year as well as I should.
But I need to move on from any regrets now and look to the future. For the next 7 weeks I will be mainly getting as much of my dissertation done as is possible, eating as much free food as is possible and swotting up on all those things I think I really ought to know pre-ordination.
Time to polish those shoes and sharpen those pencils for one final time. Term 6 of 6 is upon us. Over and out!
Saturday, 6 April 2013
Two Years of Blogging
It's two years since I started this Blog. Well, two years and four days, but I was probably a bit busy on Tuesday so let's for the sake of things say it's two years since I started this Blog.
I've checked, and apparently I started it because, and I quote, "I find there's something satisfying about writing down thoughts and feelings during transitional stages of life and this is one of them."
Who was I writing down thoughts and feelings for? Myself mainly, I think. So why put them online when paper and pen would do just as well? I'm not sure, it just seems like the thing to do, and it's been lovely when people have told me they read this Blog, especially people going through the discernment process and those who have shown an interest in Arthur and his story.
The post about the BAP has now had almost 1,000 views. If I'd known that I'd probably have done a spell check.
It's certainly been a "transitional stage." Paul and I have done lots of things for the first time: sold a house, lived out of the Westcountry, had a baby. My personal firsts: I've been to a BAP, bought a cassock, attended a youth group!
It's certainly been a transitional time.
In the last few weeks I've had quite a sense of ending. College ending, of course. There are now less than 9 weeks to go until college is over, and little more than 12 until I'm ordained.
But things are changing with Arthur too. At 8 months old he's developing his own personality. He responds to things more readily. He shows likes and dislikes. Now, more than ever, he's showing that spina bifida doesn't define him. Spina bifida really dominated the pregnancy and Arthur's first few weeks of life, but over the last couple of months I've felt less need to go on about it. When we meet new people, I tend to try not to tell them about his disability unless it's really relevant. Partly, it's about moving on myself. And it's partly becoming aware that I don't want him growing up believing that disability defines him. It's important he acknowledges it, and that it's a right pain, but the fact is it's there, and he needs to have dreams and ambitions that go beyond it. The last thing I'd want is for him to think about himself, as a child, "I'm Arthur, and I've got spina bifida."
And, of course, my life will be changing as I move into Curacy. For starters, I'll need to be less public about the things that are on my mind, which make Blogging after June less doable. The last thing I'd want would be to write in a way which wasn't able to be entirely honest about how I'm feeling.
So I'll probably draw the Blog to a close at ordination. It's better to do that then just let it fizzle out, that's my thinking. The fact that my posts have got less and less frequent suggest that I need it less these days. And, let's face it, from June I'll have less time for meandering reflections on my own life. Time to look upwards, and outwards, and onwards.
I've checked, and apparently I started it because, and I quote, "I find there's something satisfying about writing down thoughts and feelings during transitional stages of life and this is one of them."
Who was I writing down thoughts and feelings for? Myself mainly, I think. So why put them online when paper and pen would do just as well? I'm not sure, it just seems like the thing to do, and it's been lovely when people have told me they read this Blog, especially people going through the discernment process and those who have shown an interest in Arthur and his story.
The post about the BAP has now had almost 1,000 views. If I'd known that I'd probably have done a spell check.
It's certainly been a "transitional stage." Paul and I have done lots of things for the first time: sold a house, lived out of the Westcountry, had a baby. My personal firsts: I've been to a BAP, bought a cassock, attended a youth group!
It's certainly been a transitional time.
In the last few weeks I've had quite a sense of ending. College ending, of course. There are now less than 9 weeks to go until college is over, and little more than 12 until I'm ordained.
But things are changing with Arthur too. At 8 months old he's developing his own personality. He responds to things more readily. He shows likes and dislikes. Now, more than ever, he's showing that spina bifida doesn't define him. Spina bifida really dominated the pregnancy and Arthur's first few weeks of life, but over the last couple of months I've felt less need to go on about it. When we meet new people, I tend to try not to tell them about his disability unless it's really relevant. Partly, it's about moving on myself. And it's partly becoming aware that I don't want him growing up believing that disability defines him. It's important he acknowledges it, and that it's a right pain, but the fact is it's there, and he needs to have dreams and ambitions that go beyond it. The last thing I'd want is for him to think about himself, as a child, "I'm Arthur, and I've got spina bifida."
And, of course, my life will be changing as I move into Curacy. For starters, I'll need to be less public about the things that are on my mind, which make Blogging after June less doable. The last thing I'd want would be to write in a way which wasn't able to be entirely honest about how I'm feeling.
So I'll probably draw the Blog to a close at ordination. It's better to do that then just let it fizzle out, that's my thinking. The fact that my posts have got less and less frequent suggest that I need it less these days. And, let's face it, from June I'll have less time for meandering reflections on my own life. Time to look upwards, and outwards, and onwards.
Sunday, 17 March 2013
Curacy!!!
Right, as promised in Thursday's post, here is a post about my Title Post. Also known as my Curacy. Or 'the mad Parish who wanted to take on me as an Apprentice Vicar - the fools!'
It is the Benefice of Holy Trinity, Bridgwater with St Hugh's, Durleigh. More info here...
http://www.achurchnearyou.com/bridgwater-holy-trinity
The conversations started in November when Paul and I realised that moving to the Diocese of Bath and Wells would be a practical, sensible and grown-up thing to do both in terms of being near family and being slightly nearer to Bristol Children's Hospital than we would have been in South Devon (at 10 weeks old Arthur made it clear he was in charge, so this move is all his fault!)
We visited in November and were immediately impressed by the potential Training Incumbant and his ministry.
We visited a service in metaphorical hat-and-dark-glasses, which was actually slightly easier than previous 'covert' visits to potential curacies. When people asked where I lived I just told them where I grew up, which is a mere 8 miles away! So it involved almost no lying at all!
It seems ideal. There's a sense of being outward looking and prioritising the wider community, which is absolutely essential to me. The actual liturgy is just about what I'm used to (what 'A Church Near You' calls 'Low End of Catholic') which is great.
We'll be living in central Bridgwater, outside the Parish but within easy walking distance. It'll feel very different to Cuddesdon. One fellow ordinand said to me last week "the thing about Cuddesdon is you can't even go and buy a pen without using your car." My pen buying opportunities will now be abundant. In fact, I'll have Morrisons, Wilkinson, the Works and WHSmith all within a 10 minute walk of the house, which stock a range of pens of all textures, colours and qualities. Also within the specified radius, a terrifying number of restaurants, cafes and takeaways which may pose a problem.
Anyhow, I just cannot wait. In the spirit of prayerful reverence - "bring it on!!!"
It is the Benefice of Holy Trinity, Bridgwater with St Hugh's, Durleigh. More info here...
http://www.achurchnearyou.com/bridgwater-holy-trinity
The conversations started in November when Paul and I realised that moving to the Diocese of Bath and Wells would be a practical, sensible and grown-up thing to do both in terms of being near family and being slightly nearer to Bristol Children's Hospital than we would have been in South Devon (at 10 weeks old Arthur made it clear he was in charge, so this move is all his fault!)
We visited in November and were immediately impressed by the potential Training Incumbant and his ministry.
We visited a service in metaphorical hat-and-dark-glasses, which was actually slightly easier than previous 'covert' visits to potential curacies. When people asked where I lived I just told them where I grew up, which is a mere 8 miles away! So it involved almost no lying at all!
It seems ideal. There's a sense of being outward looking and prioritising the wider community, which is absolutely essential to me. The actual liturgy is just about what I'm used to (what 'A Church Near You' calls 'Low End of Catholic') which is great.
We'll be living in central Bridgwater, outside the Parish but within easy walking distance. It'll feel very different to Cuddesdon. One fellow ordinand said to me last week "the thing about Cuddesdon is you can't even go and buy a pen without using your car." My pen buying opportunities will now be abundant. In fact, I'll have Morrisons, Wilkinson, the Works and WHSmith all within a 10 minute walk of the house, which stock a range of pens of all textures, colours and qualities. Also within the specified radius, a terrifying number of restaurants, cafes and takeaways which may pose a problem.
Anyhow, I just cannot wait. In the spirit of prayerful reverence - "bring it on!!!"
Thursday, 14 March 2013
One Year On
Well, the end of term 'Bright Hour' is done and oh what fun we had. But I'm in rather a contemplative mood as Hilary term Bright Hour marks one year on from that day which must have been the oddest of my life.
If we go by calendar date, the actual anniversary is tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll have time to write a Blog post tomorrow so I'm doing one now.
Our appointment was 1pm and we went in ten minutes late. Which means it must have been about 1.45pm on the 15th March 2012 when those immortal words "there's just one thing..." were uttered by the sonographer.
In the last year, life has changed a lot.
Mr A and I could now give you a full and thorough definition for all of the following terms: mylomeningocele, hydrocephalus, ventricular-peritoneal shunt, Arnold Chiari, laryngomalacia, vocal chord palsy and many many more.
"Did you drain the baby?" is also a common question in our household and I think nothing of walking into the Doctor's surgery and requesting "a tube of KY jelly, on repeat prescription, for my son who is 7 months old." We also know exactly which car parks at the JR are the least clogged up at which time of day, and have tried most of the products on offer at all of the cafes. We have spent 30 days in Critical Care and lived to tell the tale.
One year ago, I stood outside Bright Hour sobbing, unable to go in and participate in the jollity. Nothing seemed worth it any more.
If only I could have glimpsed today. I got up and went to morning prayer. I came home and Mr A was feeding him Weetabix and mashed banana in his high chair. He smiled through the banana which was both disgusting and charming. We all went to college breakfast, then I went off to preaching class. Then I took Arthur to baby & toddler group. After a delicious lunch of sweet potato and pear (Arthur, not me) I went to prayer group, and came back to find Arthur and Mr A napping on the bed. Arthur and I went to tea at 4. Then we came home and Arthur sat in his Bumbo and watched Pointless, then had his dinner and went to bed. And I went to Bright Hour and only sobbed with laughter.
Life is entirely normal. Catheterisation 5 times a day. More medication than your average baby. But that's really about it.
Here he is tonight getting ready to go to sleep. I wish I could have seen this when I was sobbing outside Bright Hour last year.
I'm able to officially announce my Curacy now, and I'll post about that in a few days. But for now I'd like to take the time to bask in the joy of an entirely normal day.
I feel so blessed.
If we go by calendar date, the actual anniversary is tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll have time to write a Blog post tomorrow so I'm doing one now.
Our appointment was 1pm and we went in ten minutes late. Which means it must have been about 1.45pm on the 15th March 2012 when those immortal words "there's just one thing..." were uttered by the sonographer.
In the last year, life has changed a lot.
Mr A and I could now give you a full and thorough definition for all of the following terms: mylomeningocele, hydrocephalus, ventricular-peritoneal shunt, Arnold Chiari, laryngomalacia, vocal chord palsy and many many more.
"Did you drain the baby?" is also a common question in our household and I think nothing of walking into the Doctor's surgery and requesting "a tube of KY jelly, on repeat prescription, for my son who is 7 months old." We also know exactly which car parks at the JR are the least clogged up at which time of day, and have tried most of the products on offer at all of the cafes. We have spent 30 days in Critical Care and lived to tell the tale.
One year ago, I stood outside Bright Hour sobbing, unable to go in and participate in the jollity. Nothing seemed worth it any more.
If only I could have glimpsed today. I got up and went to morning prayer. I came home and Mr A was feeding him Weetabix and mashed banana in his high chair. He smiled through the banana which was both disgusting and charming. We all went to college breakfast, then I went off to preaching class. Then I took Arthur to baby & toddler group. After a delicious lunch of sweet potato and pear (Arthur, not me) I went to prayer group, and came back to find Arthur and Mr A napping on the bed. Arthur and I went to tea at 4. Then we came home and Arthur sat in his Bumbo and watched Pointless, then had his dinner and went to bed. And I went to Bright Hour and only sobbed with laughter. Life is entirely normal. Catheterisation 5 times a day. More medication than your average baby. But that's really about it.
Here he is tonight getting ready to go to sleep. I wish I could have seen this when I was sobbing outside Bright Hour last year.
I'm able to officially announce my Curacy now, and I'll post about that in a few days. But for now I'd like to take the time to bask in the joy of an entirely normal day.
I feel so blessed.
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
What am I doing?
At the moment I am mostly wandering around asking myself what I am doing.
In my last blog post I bemoaned the confusing situation whereby I am guilty that I cannot be both 'maternity leave Mummy going to baby groups, providing thoughtful development activities and cooking wholesome organic purees' and 'final year ordinand working hard on MTh and preparing earnestly for ordination' at the same time.
But enough of that already. This week I am looking to the future and wondering exactly what it is I am letting myself in for. What is full-time ordained ministry? What will I be doing? What exactly has skilled me for this job? What will life look like?
I can list what I know ordained ministry is not. A 9-to-5 job. Some may say it is not even a 'job'. It is not salaried in the strictest sense - a stipend is, by definition, an amount of money you are given to free you from financial worries and allow you to do church work full-time. Ordained ministry is not exclusive from personal life - whether you like it or not, there is overlap - you are in a sense 'on duty' as you go about your daily business.
A Priest is required to teach, but I am not a teacher. To listen, but I am not a counsellor. To tend to the sick, but I am not a nurse or a doctor. To co-ordinate, but I am not a manager. To have an awareness of finances, but I am not an accountant. As I contemplate every aspect of church work, I feel completely de-skilled. I'm glad I get 4 years of Curacy to continue my learning, but even then I won't be a teacher or a doctor or an accountant.
Perhaps the Priest's special 'skill' is that they have no implicit skills at all. Faith in God and time to spend doing His work. Prayer is so important, and I'm all to aware that prayer ends up being the thing to slip down the clergy 'to do' list, but without it the Priest has no foundation. The Priest brings what he/she is. Mother. Occasional Blog writer. Average maker of purees.
Anyway, the big update this week is that the Curacy seems to be making steady progress. Yes, I know, I have been saying this since June, but there is actual progress now. Things have been signed. Letters have been sent. I think there are a few more things to sign and letters to send and a Bishop to meet and an announcement to be made at the Churches and then it's official.
We had a good weekend visiting Mum and Dad this weekend just gone, and managed to take the time to look around a nursery for Arthur. We have come to the conclusion that Paul, Arthur and I spending our days under the same roof is not constructive to getting anything done. I just can't leave Arthur alone, as much as Paul assures me he's very happy to look after him for as long as I need every day to get on with some work. Work and homelife feel very mish-mashed together, with Arthur's constant care always winning, and while he is top priority I will be no good to a Parish if I let this situation go on next year. The plan is he will be in nursery part-time with Paul working part-time and caring for him part-time. My training incumbant seems very understanding of our situation, and the priority that family takes. My plan is that, unless there is something specific I have to go to, the time between Arthur getting home from nursery and going to bed (4.30pm to 7pm) will be mostly spent with him. And I'll be very strict about my day off every week. Feels good.
We also might have a house! The Diocese were talking about buying or renting one in the Parish, but they have now identified a vacant property they already own about a 15 minute walk from the outskirts of the Parish. We went and wandered around the outside and it looks pretty good. If we're able to have this one, it at least takes the stress of not knowing where we will live off our minds.
Coming up next week we have Arthur's assessment with Orthopaedics. A lot of people have asked us about his prospects in terms of mobility and it's a question we've never been able to answer properly other than to say that, to us, his legs seem strong and he can certainly move them very well! But we're no experts. So I guess we'll go in with open minds and hope. While we've always hoped they'll say he's just fine, we know that leg braces might have to be an option. There's worse things in the world than leg-braces.
And for the moment all Arthur cares about it that he's in his baby walker and there's a lovely bowl of pureed butternut squash for tea.
In my last blog post I bemoaned the confusing situation whereby I am guilty that I cannot be both 'maternity leave Mummy going to baby groups, providing thoughtful development activities and cooking wholesome organic purees' and 'final year ordinand working hard on MTh and preparing earnestly for ordination' at the same time.
But enough of that already. This week I am looking to the future and wondering exactly what it is I am letting myself in for. What is full-time ordained ministry? What will I be doing? What exactly has skilled me for this job? What will life look like?
I can list what I know ordained ministry is not. A 9-to-5 job. Some may say it is not even a 'job'. It is not salaried in the strictest sense - a stipend is, by definition, an amount of money you are given to free you from financial worries and allow you to do church work full-time. Ordained ministry is not exclusive from personal life - whether you like it or not, there is overlap - you are in a sense 'on duty' as you go about your daily business.
A Priest is required to teach, but I am not a teacher. To listen, but I am not a counsellor. To tend to the sick, but I am not a nurse or a doctor. To co-ordinate, but I am not a manager. To have an awareness of finances, but I am not an accountant. As I contemplate every aspect of church work, I feel completely de-skilled. I'm glad I get 4 years of Curacy to continue my learning, but even then I won't be a teacher or a doctor or an accountant.
Perhaps the Priest's special 'skill' is that they have no implicit skills at all. Faith in God and time to spend doing His work. Prayer is so important, and I'm all to aware that prayer ends up being the thing to slip down the clergy 'to do' list, but without it the Priest has no foundation. The Priest brings what he/she is. Mother. Occasional Blog writer. Average maker of purees.
Anyway, the big update this week is that the Curacy seems to be making steady progress. Yes, I know, I have been saying this since June, but there is actual progress now. Things have been signed. Letters have been sent. I think there are a few more things to sign and letters to send and a Bishop to meet and an announcement to be made at the Churches and then it's official.
We had a good weekend visiting Mum and Dad this weekend just gone, and managed to take the time to look around a nursery for Arthur. We have come to the conclusion that Paul, Arthur and I spending our days under the same roof is not constructive to getting anything done. I just can't leave Arthur alone, as much as Paul assures me he's very happy to look after him for as long as I need every day to get on with some work. Work and homelife feel very mish-mashed together, with Arthur's constant care always winning, and while he is top priority I will be no good to a Parish if I let this situation go on next year. The plan is he will be in nursery part-time with Paul working part-time and caring for him part-time. My training incumbant seems very understanding of our situation, and the priority that family takes. My plan is that, unless there is something specific I have to go to, the time between Arthur getting home from nursery and going to bed (4.30pm to 7pm) will be mostly spent with him. And I'll be very strict about my day off every week. Feels good.
We also might have a house! The Diocese were talking about buying or renting one in the Parish, but they have now identified a vacant property they already own about a 15 minute walk from the outskirts of the Parish. We went and wandered around the outside and it looks pretty good. If we're able to have this one, it at least takes the stress of not knowing where we will live off our minds.
Coming up next week we have Arthur's assessment with Orthopaedics. A lot of people have asked us about his prospects in terms of mobility and it's a question we've never been able to answer properly other than to say that, to us, his legs seem strong and he can certainly move them very well! But we're no experts. So I guess we'll go in with open minds and hope. While we've always hoped they'll say he's just fine, we know that leg braces might have to be an option. There's worse things in the world than leg-braces.
And for the moment all Arthur cares about it that he's in his baby walker and there's a lovely bowl of pureed butternut squash for tea.
Thursday, 7 February 2013
In-vestments
I have a small problem this term, it is this. I have quite a lot of lectures and college commitments. I also have a small baby who sleeps from 7pm to 7am, for which I am eternally grateful. I am also eternally grateful for hardworking husband who looks after small baby while I am in lectures and daily offices, as well as doing all the washing, cleaning, shopping, washing up and most of the cooking. So far, so good. Even so, I cannot seem to find time to settle down to work (by which I mean a sustained period of quiet work on essay, dissertation or sermons) until after dinner at around 8pm, by which time I am far too tired to work. To do any significant work in the day would be to sacrifice valuable never-to-be-gotten-back time with small baby, and my maternal instincts just won't let me do that. If he's in the flat and I'm in the flat, I want to be hanging out with him!
Hmm... The dissertation will suffer, but does that really matter? I want to be a Priest, not an academic. But I do also quite like getting a job done well. Nursery is surely the answer next year, when I have to do actual proper work, but until then...
Anyway, I digress, I was going to write about clerical wear.
So, we've got the so-called 'tack fayre' in a couple of weeks, and my mind returns to what, exactly, I think of the clerical uniform I am required by Canon Law to attire myself with from June.
I am approaching it with some trepidation. The first question is, when will I wear it? There are some clerics who wear their collar all the time, no matter what they are doing, some who will only wear it when they are doing 'official' church work, and some in particular traditions of the church who barely wear it at all. For me, it's a given that I'll wear it whenever I'm doing my actual, diarised church stuff. But what of the school run or the trip to Tesco? What about when I go and see friends? I've had a good old think and my broad opinion is that if I'm doing stuff around the parish, any stuff, I should aim to 'be seen' which means wearing the collar. I'm sure a trip to Tesco will be an interesting experience, but it's too good an opportunity to miss. A female 20-something vicar battling with a toddler in a buggy in a public place is probably an image that will stick in people's minds, and hopefully in a sort-of good way. I won't, however, be wearing it on meals out with University friends or in the bath, you'll all be pleased to know.
The second question is - what? Google clerical wear for women and the choice is bleak. There are plenty of clerical shirts avaliable, and with some careful hunting I'm sure I'll find one which is nicely cut (i.e. not for a man!) but a friend and I spent a full hour last week trying to find something like a tunic with a clerical collar, which might be worn over leggings for a casual look, and only found a designer in Sweden at a cost of £100 per item.
It may sound vain to be concerned about 'casual looks' and 'shirts being cut well' - but ultimately it's a concern to preserve my own identity as well as entering into the sacrament of ordination and the changes it will bring to my life and the life of my family with the utmost seriousness.
Then there's stoles to buy, and other assorted garb. Fortunately I get a grant from the Diocese to cover most of this. Also, I'm so green to Anglicanism, having been not-an-Anglican for 83% of my life, that my lack of opinions might prove a bonus. I've no idea which traditions certain colours of shirt or styles of collar or stole are associated with, so I'll probably just choose what I like the look of!
That's probably all I've got to say on the matter. Oh now here's some good news - I got my official offer of a Title Post a couple of days ago, and have already written back to accept. So, all being good and well I'll be able to make it so-called 'Facebook official' in not too long. I am so, so excited about my Curacy. But I'm also excited about my final 4 months or so at college. 4 months to prepare for ordination!
Eeek!
Hmm... The dissertation will suffer, but does that really matter? I want to be a Priest, not an academic. But I do also quite like getting a job done well. Nursery is surely the answer next year, when I have to do actual proper work, but until then...
Anyway, I digress, I was going to write about clerical wear.
So, we've got the so-called 'tack fayre' in a couple of weeks, and my mind returns to what, exactly, I think of the clerical uniform I am required by Canon Law to attire myself with from June.
I am approaching it with some trepidation. The first question is, when will I wear it? There are some clerics who wear their collar all the time, no matter what they are doing, some who will only wear it when they are doing 'official' church work, and some in particular traditions of the church who barely wear it at all. For me, it's a given that I'll wear it whenever I'm doing my actual, diarised church stuff. But what of the school run or the trip to Tesco? What about when I go and see friends? I've had a good old think and my broad opinion is that if I'm doing stuff around the parish, any stuff, I should aim to 'be seen' which means wearing the collar. I'm sure a trip to Tesco will be an interesting experience, but it's too good an opportunity to miss. A female 20-something vicar battling with a toddler in a buggy in a public place is probably an image that will stick in people's minds, and hopefully in a sort-of good way. I won't, however, be wearing it on meals out with University friends or in the bath, you'll all be pleased to know.
The second question is - what? Google clerical wear for women and the choice is bleak. There are plenty of clerical shirts avaliable, and with some careful hunting I'm sure I'll find one which is nicely cut (i.e. not for a man!) but a friend and I spent a full hour last week trying to find something like a tunic with a clerical collar, which might be worn over leggings for a casual look, and only found a designer in Sweden at a cost of £100 per item.
It may sound vain to be concerned about 'casual looks' and 'shirts being cut well' - but ultimately it's a concern to preserve my own identity as well as entering into the sacrament of ordination and the changes it will bring to my life and the life of my family with the utmost seriousness.
Then there's stoles to buy, and other assorted garb. Fortunately I get a grant from the Diocese to cover most of this. Also, I'm so green to Anglicanism, having been not-an-Anglican for 83% of my life, that my lack of opinions might prove a bonus. I've no idea which traditions certain colours of shirt or styles of collar or stole are associated with, so I'll probably just choose what I like the look of!
That's probably all I've got to say on the matter. Oh now here's some good news - I got my official offer of a Title Post a couple of days ago, and have already written back to accept. So, all being good and well I'll be able to make it so-called 'Facebook official' in not too long. I am so, so excited about my Curacy. But I'm also excited about my final 4 months or so at college. 4 months to prepare for ordination!
Eeek!
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