What Priests want you to know

What Priests want you to know

I came across this new blog with an interesting title – Dirty Sexy Ministry – written by two priests and found it very interesting and humourous – it’s worth a look….

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Posted in Funeral Poem

Death by Joyce Grenfell

If I should die before the rest of you,

Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone.

Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,

But be the usual selves that I have known.

Weep if you must,

Parting is hell.

But life goes on, So…….. sing as well.

Joyce Grenfell, actress and writer (1910 – 1979)

Posted in Humour, Jesus

WWJT?

At the New Christian Media Conference ….we were shown this clip in the Twitter seminar which is worth watching….

We were also shown this picture:

After the seminar we were asked the question: What Would Jesus Tweet? WWJT?   I wonder….

Posted in Humour

Will we have a test on it?

Then Jesus took his disciples up the mountain,
and gathering them around him he taught them saying:
Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
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
 
Then Simon Peter said,
     Will this count?
and Andrew said,
     Will we have a test on it?
and James said,
    When do we have to know it for?
and Phillip said,
     How many words?
and Bartholomew said,
     Will I have to stand up in front of the others?
and John said,
     The other disciples didn’t have to learn this.
and Matthew said,
     How many marks do we get for it?
And Judas said,
     What is it worth?
and the other disciples likewise.
 
Then one of the Pharisees who was present
asked to see Jesus’ lesson plan
and inquired of Jesus
his terminal objectives in the cognitive domain
 
and Jesus wept.
 
Don Linehan
Posted in Humour

A Mother’s Prayers

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my sanity to keep.
For if some peace I do not find,
I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my mind.
  
I pray I find a little quiet
Far from the daily family riot
May I lie back–not have to think
about what they’re stuffing down the sink,
or who they’re with, or where they’re at
and what they’re doing to the cat.
   
I pray for time all to myself
(did something just fall off a shelf?)
To cuddle in my nice, soft bed
(Oh no, another goldfish–dead!)
 
Some silent moments for goodness sake
(Did I just hear a window break?)
And that I need not cook or clean…
(Well heck, I’ve got the right to dream)
   
Yes now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my wits about me keep,
But as I look around I know…
I must have lost them long ago!
   
Anon
Posted in Humour

Mother’s letter to her child

Dear Child,
 
The Bathroom Door is Closed!
  
Please do not stand here and talk, whine, or ask questions.
 
Wait until I get out.
 
Yes, it is locked. I want it that way. It is not broken, and I am not trapped.
 
I know I have left it unlocked, and even open at times, since you were born, because I was afraid some horrible tragedy might occur while I was in there, but it’s been 10 years and I want some PRIVACY.
  
Do not ask me how long I will be. I will come out when I am done.
  
Do not bring the phone to the bathroom door.
  
Do not go running back to the phone yelling “She’s on the toilet!”
    
Don not stick your little fingers under the door and wiggle them.   This was funny when you were two.
    
Do not slide pennies, LEGOs, or notes under the door. Even when you were two this got a little tiresome.

If you have followed me down the hall talking, and are still talking as you face this closed door, please turn around, walk away, and wait for me in another room. I will be glad to listen to you when I am done.
  
And yes, I still love you,

Mum

I found this when I was clearing out my Mothering Sunday file…I don’t know who wrote it – but I’m told every mother can relate to it…

Posted in Humour

Comic Relief in Schools

Today I went into my local school for assembly and followed 3 classes making this Comic Relief song their own in front of the rest of the school….they were fantastic and they all knew the song!  On Friday 18th March the whole school are going to come in with wacky hairdo’s to raise money for on Red Nose Day …watch out Long Bennington!

Posted in Love, music

Wedding Entrance

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….

Posted in Church of England, Humour, Poem

Diary of a Church Mouse

It’s Harvest time again….here is a harvest poem….

The Diary of a Church Mouse  by John Betjeman

Here 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.