Today was one of those bitty days, when it’s a bit hard to say what I did that had anything to do with being a priest, save that priesthood tends to catch up all the bits of a life and distribute them towards a common end.
After prayer and morning prayer, the day began with emails and phone calls. Some vestry business. A bit of catch up with key people. Messages left, work progressed.
In between all that, there was lesson planning and liturgical planning for the School Harvest service. Somewhat accidentally, I have stepped into the role of writing teacher for this one (with a most kind and indulgent classroom teacher letting me get away with it, then picking up the pieces when I fail to pitch right for P1&2). A few minutes to spare sent me hunting for psalms and simple Christmas music.
Then it was time for lunch. Once the sandwich was eaten, and the napkin covered in drumming patterns for tonight’s music night, it was time to see the P1s and P2s. I was so impressed with them. There were lots of glorious bits in their poems and they were realistic about what wasn’t working. Together we chanted them out and listened for the rhythms and found solutions for lines that limped. In the end, we had time to gather five good poems, and countless fine images of swirly twirly tails (we seem to be focusing on the squirrel’s harvest this time. My lesson plan; my bias…)
From school, it was back to my desk: a draft article for inspires from someone who had taken the unusual move of saying ‘this isn’t done yet, but am I on the right track?’ I fear he got a fuller answer than he might have since I was in writing teacher mode, but it was a good article, and will be better (I hope) for his asking for feedback early.
Then, I fed the hedgehog, and headed out for some Casting the Net evangelism.
Time now to gather things up for the music night: wine glasses and knitting needles, chopped vegetables, drums and bells. Hymnals and psalms. Chairs. Optimism.
My favourite ‘model of priesthood’ has always been ‘priest as magpie’ — gathering up all the sparkly bits in case they come in handy. A scrappy view of priesthood, which longs for glitter in a pile of leaves. And look — there’s one now, chattering through the rose bush at Molly-cat. Is he here for the sing-along, do you suppose?