who have never been to Dunblane, and are curious…
There is a fairly random set of photos below the fold. All are taken within 5 minutes walk of the church and rectory in the last of the afternoon light. These are practical ‘see what it’s like’ photos, so please set aside all hopes of artistry.
I said to a group of people recently that if you want to know what am about to do next, pay attention to what I’m preaching. In the past three days I have preached on freedom, kite-flying, and giving up good things that we hold onto in the wrong way.
But the other indicator of my mood — the one that often shows me how I’m feeling before I know — is which bits of the Eucharistic prayer catch hold. So today, with perfect timing, we had:
Worship and praise belong to you,
maker of light and darkness.
Your wisdom draws beauty from chaos,
brings a harvest out of sorrow
and leads the exiles home.
… all of which, of course, means that I need to give up romantic idealism for Lent. But for a while, the indulgence is lovely.
once you’ve done the bit about dust, remember too that Beauty from Chaos is emerging.
(and let me tell you, this year I did the chaos bit brilliantly. Thanks to those who held faith and offered to write.)
Every year it’s the same.
The eggs, milk and flour are waiting. The syrup is decanted and the lemons poised. The house is as tidy as it’s likely to get, and the coffee maker is hissing away.
Three congregations with the challenge of ferry time-tables and narrow roads through the hills means that the party starts early, at 4pm. But there are locals too, which means we don’t finish till about 10pm.
So, in the hour that remains before I start cooking, shall I burn ash, write a sermon, or prepare the pew sheets, do you suppose?
I can never really focus on Ash Wednesday till the last pancake has been eaten. Which makes for an early morning of austerity and fervent prayer, I assure you.
wonderful exchange 