I love hearing the stories of peoples lives and a joy of being in a new place is that I get to hear new stories.
One of the great privileges of being a priest, and there are many, is we often get to hear things that haven’t been told before or maybe not for many years. Most of the time this isn’t because we are being imparted with a secret it is simply because we happen to be there listening and most people, when encouraged, like to tell their stories.
Today was definitely a story telling day and now finally back home I feel richly blessed and it is a blessing which we can all share in, priest or not. The truth of the matter is that you probably know someone not too far away from you, who has a story to tell that you haven’t heard. Maybe in the telling and listening there will be surprise or two along the way as there has been for me in the past, was today and no doubt will be again in the future.
Today four of the stories I heard included tales of:
- The complexities of registering a birth in India many moons ago.
- The hand milking of cows.
- The mysteries of welding from a very, very surprising source.
- An almost forgotten romance.
So why not try a little story listening yourself it might just end up blessing your day too.
There was a very different feel to Remembrance Sunday this year.
For the first time since I was a child and used to put on my brownie uniform and go to the war memorial in the village were we grew up with all the other brownies and scouts, it felt like something bigger than a bit slotted into the service. Both Milngavie and Bearsden have Ecumenical Services at their respective War Memorials, but I couldn’t be at both and practicalities meant it made more sense to be at Bearsden Cross.
Now anyone that knows the area will know the cross is quite a major route, even on a Sunday morning. However, they shut off the roads de-touring the traffic down the quiet back street as a couple of hundred people gathered together in the bright Autumn sun to remember those lost long ago and those still being lost today through the horrors of war. The strains of ‘Nimrod’ gathered the stragglers before prayers were said, Bible readings read, the last post and reveille sandwiched the two minutes silence, and wreaths were laid. After in the Church a solo voice sung out ‘Make Me A Channel of Your Peace’, calling us to the heart of the Eucharist. Don’t make us ostriches, burying our heads in the sand but make us channels of your peace Lord, bringing peace to the hearts of people even if they are suffering in the fields of conflict, let us spread your love, declare your hope and proclaim that faith can heal the deepest darkest sorrows. I have always struggled with Remembrance Sunday in church mainly because no matter what I tried there was always a sense of tension around with no amount of explaining or personal stories being able to change it from an act of glorification to one of remembrance for some.
This year there was a real sense of purpose as a community joined together in and act of dignified remembrance. A very good day.
Not a lot of things make me mad, in fact it takes a lot for me to get mad, on the whole I am a gentle soul, when I get mad it is on other peoples behalf and this is no exception. Justice is not happening, people are being treated badly and by others who you would think should know better, by those who hold a position of care. I have seen it happen increasingly and until yesterday lived in the miss-guided hope that it was the case in just one hospital. Yesterday was the icing on the cake, the straw that broke this particular camels back, for it would appear that a very worrying practice is not just on going in one hospital and I am now left wondering just how wide spread it is.
What am I going on about?
Well that terrible habit hospital doctors have got into of avoiding or simply not telling the more mature spouses about what is happening to their loved one, from where I am standing it seems to be rampant agism. After many years of being together, of looking after each other, of caring and loving each other in sickness and in health one of a couple ends up in hospital, neither is in their first flush of youth, but neither are they incapable of knowing what is happening. In the past I have seen people struggle to get any kind of information out of hospital doctors until a younger relative arrives. I have seen both the patient and the spouse wracked with worry because they don’t know what is going on, often being driven into thinking the situation is worse than it is, frequently with the one who is well having to cope with being by themselves for the first time in their lives. I have seen doctors talk past the patient and spouse to a third-party, on occasions me, about what the possibilities might be in answer to a question that hasn’t been asked by the person being addressed.
And it is happening again and in another hospital, so it would appear that it is a trend, is it something all hospital doctors are now do? Have they been taught or instructed to do this? Just because someone is nearer 100 than 50 doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be the first to know what is going on to themselves or a loved one, it doesn’t mean the doctors should avoid and ignore them, and it most certainly doesn’t mean that they are not able to either understand or deal with the information they are seeking. What makes this latest case worse is the fact that there are no younger relatives to appear on the scene and at this moment in time that in itself is opening up old hurts.
It wouldn’t surprise me if this happens in other circumstances as well, it just so happens I have only seen it happen with husbands and wives, however, it shouldn’t be happening at all! Don’t they realise that they are adding to the stress of the time, do they think that someone over the age of 70 is incapable? Don’t they realise that these people didn’t get to the age they have got to without having to deal with difficult situations and that they are probably far better equiped than those younger relatives upon which they wait, at taking it in their stride and seeing it through together? How as this situation developed and why, oh why, is it being allowed to continue?
Something new for the congregations of All Saints and St Andrew’s so I wasn’t quite sure how it would be received. Even though All Saints is the dedication of one of the churches they have, in recent memory at least, linked the two days together and concentrated on the All Saints bit, with a passing nod to All Souls. However, if I was to pick one of my favorite services during the year All Souls would be up there amongst the final contenders and I have found that congregations too find All Souls services of great value, especially if they have lost a loved one during the year and for whatever reason weren’t able to get to their funeral service. So after the fireworks of All Saints day on Sunday – you had to be there – Monday night saw us remembering All Souls.
While the numbers attending the service weren’t large - after all Rome wasn’t built in a day - those that did attend found it a service that hit a spot they hadn’t realised needed hitting, or so they told me afterwards, that along with the fact that there were plenty of names to be remembered, makes me believe that these congregations too will grow to find All Souls in its own right as something to cherish in our Christian year. For All Souls Day proclaims the human reality of our faith that, especially in today’s society with modern medicine and longer lives, prince or pauper one day all our lives will come to an end, before a yet more glorious beginning.
Plus as a bonus I found black fiddleback vestments languishing in a drawer, they need languish no more!
