As a child one of my heroines was Amelia Earhart. She was of course the first woman to fly across the Atlantic in 1928 and 4 years later became the first female to cross it solo. Her last, uncompleted journey was to fly around the world with her co-pilot Frederick Noonan on this day she sent a message that she was low on fuel, that was the last that was ever heard of her. Nothing was ever found of the plane last reported as being somewhere in New Guinea in the South Pacific.
The world is a very different place some 72 years later, her achievements have passed into the mists of time with the ability for anyone to fly around the world, if they have the money, without much planning or consideration that they might be embarking on a dangerous journey. Yet still a lot of what she believed in has not been achieved, equality is still not a reality, however I believe that Amelia can continue to be an example for those who fight for it, whatever that equality they fight. Amelia didn’t proclaim equality with mere words but went about doing it. She didn’t complain about a glass ceiling, instead she got into a plane and smashed through it proving that a woman was just as capable as any man. Although she was vocal at times she most definitely believed that actions were stronger than words.
Her determination, courage and belief that she wasn’t restrained by her gender has inspired and no doubt will continue to inspire me. I think it is sad that she is rarely remember.
This book is a favorite of a friend and when she discovered that I had never read it she urged me to do so, so I did.
It is indeed a charming book which starts by telling us the story of Oswald Campbell who having reached 52 his life behind him somewhat of a mess and nothing much to look forward to, visits the doctor to discover that he doesn’t even have much time to not look forward to either. The doctor tells him in no uncertain terms he needs to get out of Chicago, so after an amusing couple of phone calls off he heads to the little town of Lost River which is full of characters which Fannie Flagg describes gloriously. The story is not just about Oswald however, all of the characters of this small town are brought to life on the page and most are more than just secondary characters. The history which has made the people who they are all comes into play as the climax of the story unfolds and the reason for the title is revealed.
It is a tale of self discovery, of friendship, of despair turning to hope, of trust and of the triumph that can come out of despair that comes when people work together in love.
Thanks Meg for recommending it, I endorse your recommendation.
While at St Mark’s a lot of energy has gone into identifying individuals gifts and empowering them to use those gifts. Of course the intention behind that was never to ready them for my leaving on day, but over the past two Sundays much of that work has shown itself in that light.
A week past Sunday, while I was at Silverstone for the British Grand Prix, there was initially a bit of a panic when it became clear that a priest couldn’t be found to cover. The Vestry met and discussed the various options and decided that a non-Eucharistic service would be held, led by those who have been license by the Bishop to lead worship. A service was drawn up, using the rhythm of the 1662 Matins, but using modern versions of the canticles in the SEC’s Daily Prayer, and the sermon was covered by a couple of members of the congregation agreeing to do a presentation of a conversation between Jesus and Peter from Wild Goose. When the plan was announced to the congregation there were some rumblings about it, however, apart from some confusion about how long people were to stand, it would appear it was widely welcomed even by those who had voiced doubts. The congregation now have that tool in their grasp for those occasions during the interregnum when it might be difficult to find a priest.
Yesterday was the Healing Service, something that the congregation and Vestry are keen should continue. Parts of this service, which follows the main service once a month, is often led by others, but I am usually up at the front somewhere. This time I sat at the back of the congregation as they confidently and prayerfully led the service. At the end of the service, their concerns were quickly chased away with some affirmation. Another success.
It was like those by gone days when I saw the children take their first steps.
For a generation born in the 80’s that question will end with Michael Jackson died.
He might not have always got it right, he might have been on the mad side of eccentric, he might have been led astray by those who weren’t so much concerned with him as with his wealth and fame and he definitely made mistakes – after all he was human.
Yet, despite all that, and maybe because of some of it, his music moved the world and opened doors that have never been shut again.
His plastic surgery was a cry to be accepted. throughout his life, extreme actions screamed out ‘please love me.’ He knew from living it out that money couldn’t buy happiness. His life was sad, as is his death, and it is somewhat ironic that the mountains of debt he was in could very well be wiped out by the royalties of his records played on radio stations and TV channels around the world today.
My prayer is that today Micael Jackson may at last know peace in the knowledge that he is loved and accepted and always was, by God.
