My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away.
Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book?
Is Heaven in the yellow part, I don’t know where to look.
I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really don’t know why.
Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea?
She’s been gone a long, long time. She really needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her but I simply don’t know how.
Help me find the number please, Is it listed under Heaven?
I can’t read these big words, I am only seven.
I’m sorry operator, I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye?
If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mummy said when we need help that’s where we should go.
I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator, I’ll give them a call. by Donna Groleau.
and gathering them around him he taught them saying:
Blessed are the meek.
Blessed are they that mourn.
Blessed are the merciful.
Blessed are they who thirst for justice.
Blessed are all the concerned.
Blessed are you when persecuted.
Blessed are you when you suffer.
Be glad and rejoice for your reward is great in heaven
try to remember what I am telling you
asked to see Jesus’ lesson plan
and inquired of Jesus
his terminal objectives in the cognitive domain
On monday clergy from Lincoln diocese spent time with the wedding project team and they showed this clip of a wedding entrance which is viewed by an amazing amount of people….it just seems to draw you in….
I went with the Bishop fo Grantham to a Confirmation Service at St. George’s Church in Stamford. It was a great service and there was a time of sharing of faith…why the candidates had chosen to / been called to be confirmed within the service. Katrina shared this poem she had written:
Part The CurtainsDoes not beauty shine forth behind the clouds? Does not light overrule the darkness? God’s light is like the sun above the clouds, Always present. And when the clouds part, does not a banner of hope come forth? A golden beacon, A candle in the dark. Does not a smile appear upon your face, At the sight of such beauty and hope? Don’t give up hoping, Don’t live in despair. Christ is watching from behind the clouds, Waiting for you to part the curtains, And embrace the light.
By Katrina Sissins
It’s Harvest time again….here is a harvest poem….
The Diary of a Church Mouse by John BetjemanHere among long-discarded cassocks, Damp stools, and half-split open hassocks, Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old service books. Lean and alone I spend my days Behind this Church of England baize. I share my dark forgotten room With two oil-lamps and half a broom. The cleaner never bothers me, So here I eat my frugal tea. My bread is sawdust mixed with straw; My jam is polish for the floor. Christmas and Easter may be feasts For congregations and for priests, And so may Whitsun. All the same, They do not fill my meagre frame. For me the only feast at all Is Autumn’s Harvest Festival, When I can satisfy my want With ears of corn around the font. I climb the eagle’s brazen head To burrow through a loaf of bread. I scramble up the pulpit stair And gnaw the marrows hanging there. It is enjoyable to taste These items ere they go to waste, But how annoying when one finds That other mice with pagan minds Come into church my food to share Who have no proper business there. Two field mice who have no desire To be baptized, invade the choir. A large and most unfriendly rat Comes in to see what we are at. He says he thinks there is no God And yet he comes … it’s rather odd. This year he stole a sheaf of wheat (It screened our special preacher’s seat), And prosperous mice from fields away Come in to hear our organ play, And under cover of its notes Ate through the altar’s sheaf of oats. A Low Church mouse, who thinks that I Am too papistical, and High, Yet somehow doesn’t think it wrong To munch through Harvest Evensong, While I, who starve the whole year through, Must share my food with rodents who Except at this time of the year Not once inside the church appear. Within the human world I know Such goings-on could not be so, For human beings only do What their religion tells them to. They read the Bible every day And always, night and morning, pray, And just like me, the good church mouse, Worship each week in God’s own house, But all the same it’s strange to me How very full the church can be With people I don’t see at all Except at Harvest Festival.
I saw this liturgy on Jonny Baker’s Blog – fantastic….
Christ’s piece is you,
Christ’s piece is me,
It is those that do,
And it is those that be,
Without one another we can’t cover 360 degrees,
Because we don’t need ‘I’s to see, we need We.
As every image that we see of ourselves is reflected,
Every image that we see of the world is subjective,
We need two points of view to gain some perspective,
And the ability and humility to accept this.
Because in our vision lies division,
A polarised view of action and pacifism,
But contradiction doesn’t mean fact and fiction,
more like discordant harmonies in the melody of wisdom.
I need you, like red needs blue,
You need me, like do needs be,
And life shouldn’t be binary,
Our eyes shouldn’t be primary,
We need to trade in reds and blues for indigos and violets see:
We need to try and be purple.
Not just protest march bruises as we go out and do,
Or blood filled cheeks as we hold our breath and be,
I mean purple.
The hares and the rabbits,
the tortoises and turtles,
So let us be moved to be mauve,
Maroon and mulberry,
Lilac, plum and lavender,
May the red and blue poles of our souls and our minds combine to be magnets of magenta,
May we take the opposites and make the composite,
As every image has its limits
And every picture could be richer,
If we have someone else to see that we are in it,
We need to be purple.
[by Harry Baker aka Dubb]