Skip to main content

The Day Thou Gavest Lord has Ended


I look at the date at the top of my last post and realize how long it was since I put anything on here. There's a reason for that. There are in fact a dozen reasons for that and I can't mention one of them. In the parish I dealt with people's life issues on a daily basis and was trusted to share their struggles and concerns and joys and pleasures. Once in a while, maybe once every couple of months or so, there would be something big; I would be invited into one of those issues which, when the narrative of that person's existence was told, that event would have a place in the story. Sharing those issues was both compelling and draining, requiring me to plumb the limits of my reserves of empathy and understanding, but also invigorating me with fresh insights into the workings of us, peculiar, sentient islands of consciousness that we are. Now, in this office into which the Holy Spirit has, for bizarre and obscure reasons called me, I share such moments on an almost daily basis. Today there were four of them.

I can not, will not speak of these things except, in a limited way, to my supervisor and  those to whom the people involved have given me permission to speak. So for the most part I keep my trap shut and find ways other than gossip and conversation to earth the loose wires which such sharings discover within me. I have been reading a lot. I have been kneeling on a mat with an old cloak around my shoulders, keeping as still, inside and out, as I can manage. I have taken up my old regime of reading 4 chapters of the Bible every day. I have also, slowly, been shaping a plan for the diocese and trying to acquit myself well in the duties required of me. I have been slopping paint on the walls of my newly build study and looking forward to the time when I can fill it's shelves with the books that have been piled in the garage for months now. Unfortunately, the Lord hath not seen fit to comply with my special pleading and order the universe around my whims, so the day he giveth endeth after only 24 hours and some things which might have helped have gone undone. I haven't been taking any photos, and in fact haven't seen my camera's battery charger since it got lost, months ago, somewhere amongst the cartons of books. I haven't been fulfilling my obligations to Taonga magazine. And I haven't been posting on Available Light.

Today's duties ended at 8:30 this evening. Whew. The darkness falls at thy behest, and thanks for that.

Tomorrow it's a drive to Invercargill and an Ultreya and a conversation in a cafe and a drive to Dunedin and a party. Sunday it's Otago Peninsula and evensong with the girls from the Tolcarne boarding hostel. Then on Monday I head for the theological hui in Auckland which means three days of  listening to learned discourse and intense discussion of the same: i.e. a rest cure. I' ll see if I can write about that. Really I will.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Comments

Peter Carrell said…
Your writing is always worth the wait between postings :)
Roscoe Mishmack said…
Hear, hear!
Lee said…
I know what you mean about there being so many things you'd like to blog about, and talk about, and share, but can't.

I'm naturally a talker, so having to keep silence on a number of issues in my life recently has also taken its toll. Mostly I just feel sad.

All I can say is, you are doing the work you are meant to do - I don't think anyone seeing you in action could ever doubt that!

As for the blog, well, if we have to wait a little longer until we see another beautiful photo, or read your words, that's of no significance.

Not only will we know it will be worth the wait because of the wisdom and beauty we know you'll share, but also because there will always be a good reason for the silence between the times you share.

Take care.
Merv said…
In 1972 I was in the final intake of Compulsory Military Training at Waiouru. I didn't enjoy it.

But the Chaplain held a church service, bless his heart, and played a recording of 'The Day Thou Gavest' by a Scots pipe band. I was deeply moved & it impacted my life.

How does the mysterious Ruach of God move through obedient servants such as yourself & that chaplain, perhaps without them even knowing it?
Elaine Dent said…
We can wait. And thank you for giving us a glimpse that being on our knees takes priority over posting on the blog.

Popular posts from this blog

Ko Tangata Tiriti Ahau

    The Christmas before last our kids gave us Ancestry.com kits. You know the deal: you spit into a test tube, send it over to Ireland, and in a month or so you get a wadge of paper in the mail telling you who you are. I've never, previously, been interested in all that stuff. I knew my forbears came to Aotearoa in the 1850's from Britain but I didn't know from where, exactly. Clemency's results, as it turns out, were pretty interesting. She was born in England, but has ancestors from various European places, and some who are Ngāti Raukawa, so she can whakapapa back to a little marae called Kikopiri, near Ōtaki. And me? It turns out I'm more British than most British people. Apart from a smattering of Norse  - probably the result of some Viking raid in the dim distant past - all my tūpuna seem to have come from a little group of villages in Nottinghamshire.  Now I've been to the UK a few times, and I quite like it, but it's not home: my heart and soul belon...

Kindle

 Living as I do in a place where most books have to come a long way in an aeroplane, reading is an expensive addiction, and of course there is always the problem of shelf space. I have about 50 metres of shelving in my new study, but it is already full and there is not a lot of wall space left; and although it is great insulation, what is eventually going to happen to all that paper? I doubt my kids will want to fill their homes with old theological works, so most of my library is eventually going to end up as egg cartons. Ebooks are one solution to book cost and storage issues so I have been  using them for a while now, but their big problem has been finding suitable hardware to read them on.  I first read them on the tiny screens of Ipaqs and they were quite satisfactory but the wretchedness of Microsoft Reader and its somewhat arbitrary copyright protection system killed the experience entirely. On Palm devices they were OK except the plethora of competing and incomp...

En Hakkore

In the hills up behind Ranfurly there used to be a town, Hamilton, which at one stage was home to 5,000 people. All that remains of it now is a graveyard, fenced off and baking in the lonely brown hills. Near it, in the 1930s a large Sanitorium was built for the treatment of tuberculosis and other respiratory ailments. It was a substantial complex of buildings with wards, a nurses hostel, impressive houses for the manager and superintendent and all the utility buildings needed for such a large operation. The treatment offered consisted of isolation, views and weather. Patients were exposed to the air, the tons of it which whistled past, often at great speed, the warmth of the sun and the cold. They were housed in small cubicles opening onto huge glassed verandas where they cooked in the summer and froze in the winter and often, what with the wholesome food and the exercise, got better. When advances in antibiotics rendered the Sanitorium obsolete it was turned into a Borstal and...

The Traitor

A couple of people have questioned me privately about the Leonard Cohen song The Traitor , and about Cohen's comments on the song, "[The Traitor is about] the feeling we have of betraying some mission we were mandated to fulfill and being unable to fulfill it; then coming to understand that the real mandate was not to fulfill it; and the real courage is to stand guiltless in the predicament in which you find yourself". What on earth does he mean, and why am I so excited about it? For the latter, check with my psychiatrist. For the former, my take on the song is this: The Traitor is another of those instances, as in The Partisan , where Leonard Cohen uses a military metaphor to speak of life in general and human love in particular. Many of us hold high ideals: some great quest or other that we pursue. These are often laudable things: finding true love, finding the absolute love of God, becoming enlightened, spreading the Gospel, writing the great novel or some such ...

Camino, by David Whyte

This poem captures it perfectly Camino. The way forward, the way between things, the way already walked before you, the path disappearing and re-appearing even as the ground gave way beneath you, the grief apparent only in the moment of forgetting, then the river, the mountain, the lifting song of the Sky Lark inviting you over the rain filled pass when your legs had given up, and after, it would be dusk and the half-lit villages in evening light; other people's homes glimpsed through lighted windows and inside, other people's lives; your own home you had left crowding your memory as you looked to see a child playing or a mother moving from one side of a room to another, your eyes wet with the keen cold wind of Navarre. But your loss brought you here to walk under one name and one name only, and to find the guise under which all loss can live; remember you were given that name every day along the way, remember you were greeted as such, and you neede...