My first time

Trying to work out if, while flossing last night, I knocked out a piece of tooth. It seems unlikely but I don't know what else the hard jagged bit of something could be.

* * * * *

Talking to someone yesterday reminded me of my early days in Zac's.

Later

I've just spent some time scanning my blog to find out when that was. Ta dah; Tuesday October 3rd 2006.

It was scary. Walking in past various homeless individuals or those with mental health issues, coming face to face with several big burly bikers leaning on the counter. It's a wonder I ever went back. 

So many faces no longer with us. Too many early deaths.

Life in the slow lane

I took two ladies with me on the trip out yesterday and I discovered their pace was significantly slower than mine! I was just glad it was a quiet road we had to walk across or it would have been terrifying.

It probably did me good to 'slow down and smell the estuary' as I have a habit of charging round but I couldn't do it too often. 

In the boathouse at Laugharne there was a domed exhibition. A craft group called Itchy Fingers made this amazing representation of Llareggub, the village featured in Under Milk Wood, using craft materials and found items. 

The detail was amazing.

P.S. If you haven't before do try reading Llareggub backwards.

Blobs of faith

Last night in Zac's we considered levels of faith as illustrated by this Pip Wilson cartoon of players on a football pitch.

I quickly identified myself as a mixture of the one chasing butterflies (centre left), sometimes going the wrong way and easily distracted, and the goalkeeper, terrified someone is going to kick a ball at me.

After that I spent a lot of the study wondering why the man on the left had an ice cream on his head. (You see? Easily distracted.)

Turns out he's in the shower. 

I blame my stupidity on lack of familiarity with the inside of football changing-rooms.

A very good study though. I would think most of us experience different levels of faith at various times in our life, or even day.

At first glance we might think the goal-scorer is demonstrating the most faith but I find that when I do something well I tend to take the praise myself and forget God; the man on the stretcher though must have huge faith, obviously seriously injured but still on the pitch. 'I might be damaged but I can still do my bit - even if it's only getting in the way of the opposition.'

How's your faith today? Can you identify with any of the players/spectators?

The tension between good and bad

In bible study while partly listening to the person leading it, I was also praying. I knew I was going to have to have a difficult conversation later, one I didn't want to have, so I tried to pray for the right words and attitude.

But there was also a bit of me (multi-tasking at its worst) wanting to slap someone.

There are some people who, whatever the question or indeed whatever the study is about, will come up with a verse from the bible. Now that's probably fair enough: I am a Christian after all and should believe that it contains all the answers. But it's not always that simple.

To just spout out some scripture and say, 'that's all you've got to do,' isn't  ... well, realistic in my experience. But I suspect the main culprit secretly has doubts about my suitability for leading a study when I am so obviously lacking in faith.

A good study though with an interesting contribution from an occasional visitor. He said that Greeks and Hebrews taught in different ways and that we - I think he meant our education system - tend to follow the Greek way. The Greeks give answers while the Hebrews ask questions. I found that fascinating.

By the way the difficult conversation was bad but there was no physical violence so that's a plus.

Authentic church

Not very happy with the way bible study went last night at Zac's. My fault. I wasn't happy with my prep and it didn't hang together well. I did lots of preparation and found out a lot but somehow couldn't get a grip or a good angle to take on the 'Observe the Sabbath and keep it holy' commandment. Also it didn't engage people, well, not until nearly the end, and even then it wasn't the study that got people talking.

It was a question about homophobia from a young woman. She and her partner had moved from a town in England to get away from homophobic attacks: most recently they'd had their windows broken.

About halfway through the study a group of about five young male rough sleepers walked in. They did chatter a bit but mostly were quiet except for some insightful - and, yes, I have to admit unexpected to me - comments about grace.

The best bit of the evening came later. I'd gone upstairs to look for some clothes for the women and when I returned one of the volunteers was sitting and talking to the guys, and another was in conversation with the women. That felt like what it was about.

Part of the theme of my study was that looking out for others plays a part in the 'keeping it holy' bit of the commandment. The volunteers didn't need to be told that; what they did was natural and authentic. And I loved them for it.

Steve as seen in Zac's

Back in 2012 I had a meeting with Sean, Martin, and Steve, about Zac's. Sean was planning on taking some time off and, before he did, he wanted a back-up system in place - and he wanted the three of us to be that back-up.

I wrote a couple of months ago about Martin's death; today I have to write about Steve's.

Steve had heart problems and over the years has diced with death. In fact a few years ago he 'died' at the swimming pool but was resuscitated. And this was in spite of being an incredibly fit and active man. He was a teacher for many years before leaving to concentrate on running  Breakout, an outdoors pursuit organisation working especially with the vulnerable and troubled. Another part of Breakout's work led him and his wife, Lynne, to support an orphanage in Albania, raising money and awareness as well as visiting, taking supplies, and providing practical assistance.

But that side of Steve's story will be told much better by others. The bit I can tell you about, using some cuttings from previous posts, remembers his time in Zac's.

2008
I said, 'Steve, I had this dream and it was about Lynne and it was so vivid that I feel I should share it with you.'
'Oh yes?'
'Yes. In it Lynne got married to Rolf Harris.'
Steve said, 'Strangely enough, that's been a long-held ambition of hers.'
'See? I knew it was of God. You will tell her, won't you?'
'You're crackers.'
'Coming from you Steve, I consider that a compliment.'

2011
Sean told me he was going to be away and wanted Martin, Steve and me to lead the study the next week. On the night I turned up bright and early to discuss with the other two what we were doing but when I got there they weren't there.
Time passed and eventually Martin arrived; he didn't know anything about leading it. And Steve just wasn't there.
Steve did turn up about halfway through the evening and he also denied knowing anything about leading it. Either Sean forgot to mention it to them or they're both lying.
Neither would surprise me.

With Mark who also died earlier this year

2012
There was a newcomer in Zac's tonight, and he declared himself, several times during the study, to be a confirmed agnostic or atheist; he couldn't decide.
Steve was leading and at one point our newcomer commented, quite politely, that 'those words are worth less than the shit on my shoes.' One of the things I love about Zac's is that no-one even blinked an eyelid.
Steve talked about a time when he'd been in hospital with heart problems and a moment had arrived when he really thought he was on the point of death. Even though he and many others had prayed for healing he felt this could be the end. Our newcomer piped up with, 'But you believe in God and you'd prayed so why did you think you'd die?'
He and Steve chatted a lot after the study and I'm sure Steve was able to respond more fully to the man's questions.

2013
Steve was leading the bible study last night on the bit where God makes this wonderful agreement with Abraham. God says, 'You'll have lots of children, the land of Canaan and I'll be with you and your descendants for ever. All I want you to do in return is ... cut off the end of your willy' (as Steve explained it).
Still it was only a little thing to ask really. (And you would not believe the number of plays on words that can be thought up by an irreverent crowd. Snippets. Tip of the iceberg. Etc.)
At one point Ric said, 'This topic was made for Liz to cover.'
Steve agreed, 'I feel I am depriving her.'
No, really, you carry on. I'm happy to be in the crowd for this one.

With Paul

2013
With Sean away, Steve was in the hot seat at Zac's last night. I found myself a place on the back row and watched with growing delight as the evening progressed: every 'eccentric' that has ever been in Zac's turned up. It was chaos. But Steve coped brilliantly. (I say 'growing delight' not out of a sense of mean spirit but simply that it wasn't me in the seat!) (Well, maybe a bit of tee-hee-ing.)
We were continuing with the first letter of Peter and we were looking at the bit where it says get on with everyone and live in harmony with each other. Steve asked what the word harmony meant to us and that was where the trouble started ...
We had our resident homeless alcoholic 'peeing on the lamp-post', marking his territory simply because the homeless Irish 'Catlic' dared to open his mouth; we had arguments about peace and tolerance; we had God cast as Big Brother and us as puppets when we could get on better by thinking positively; we had the grieving man whose only family was the guy with whom he lived on the streets; and we had our amiable-except-when-he-has-a-knife regular who has a habit of chatting with imaginary friends. Oh it was fun.
Steve dealt calmly, pleasantly and respectfully with each and every one - when he could make himself heard - but I think it was with a sense of relief that he prayed the closing prayer.

* * * * *

Intermittently today, when not on my knees trying to relight the boiler, I've been thinking about last Tuesday's bible study. Mostly I've been thinking about what I said and what I should and shouldn't have said.

I missed Steve Porter's presence. He is good at digging me out of my messes.

* * * * *

In Zac's during the 'love your enemies' discussion, Steve, who was leading, asked, 'Who's been insulted and not responded in kind?'

Lots of people put up their hands and Laura, who was sitting next to me, noticed that I didn't.

'Haven't you?' she asked.

'I can't remember ever being insulted.'

Laura burst out laughing and passed this on to Steve who said, 'She just doesn't realise it.'

>

* * * * *

Steve was leading the bible study last night - you remember my head-under-pillow experience last week? - and you could have heard a pin drop. When anyone wanted to speak they put their hands up. 

If it hadn't been for the dog piddling on the floor every now and again you wouldn't have known you were in Zac's.

'You are jammy,' I told him.

He shrugged, 'It's just that God loves me more than he loves you.'

* * * * *
Then there was the time I arranged to meet Steve at his warehouse at the other side of Swansea to pick up some baby stuff he was storing for me. We both arrived and then Steve realised he'd forgotten the key. 

He was a regular presence at our sea baptisms, welcomed not least because he provided wetsuits when it was a trifle chilly, and life-saving expertise when it was a tad rough.

Baptising one of our rough sleepers

He stopped coming to Zac's a few years ago for complicated reasons. I never gave up hoping he'd be back. He was funny, he was compassionate, he was wise and just a bit cynical, he had a heart for the unlovely.

Memories of Martin

On Saturday morning I woke to the news that Martin, a God Squadder and long-time Zaccer, had died after a short illness. Tributes have been showing up on Facebook from many of the bikers and they all say what a loyal man he was, a great friend to have, wonderful to ride with. My memories are different and I'd like to share them now.

The first time I went to a bible study at Zac's was in 2006. I walked in and it was like that scene in the cowboy film where the stranger walks in and a hush gradually spreads across the saloon until it reaches the bar where, in this case, three burly tattooed men - the very epitome of tough bikers - stood chatting. In one second the courage I'd gathered was dissipated to the furthest extremities of my body.

Martin is on the left

The three men turned around and stared at me. Then Blossum said, 'Hello, love. Welcome to Zac's.'

It wasn't long before Blossum and Baz (in the photo above with his hand on his wife's bottom) had accepted me into the community; it took longer with Martin. He was justifiably suspicious of PoshTotty, as he later (about 2013) introduced me to a BBC sound recordist. (It took me a week to come up with this sparkling response: 'If I were posh I certainly wouldn't be talking to you!')

In fact it wasn't until 2010 that Martin put his arm around me and said, 'You're all right, you are.'

I'd made it! His approval meant so much to me. Another time after I'd plucked up my courage to say something during the study Martin said, 'I liked your comment.'
That was praise indeed.

But by 2011 I'd earned myself the honour of being asked to lead Zac's in Sean's absence. With Martin, that is. Now Sean had tried to get Martin to do this on a number of occasions and each time Martin had come up with all sorts of excuses why he couldn't do it. Like 'My car's blown up.' Or so he said.

Then one time I decided that, as Martin was always landing me in it, I'd play the innocent and when he asked me if I'd prepared I'd say, 'No, you're leading it, aren't you?'

When I arrived at Zac's Martin told me he'd have to leave early - yeah right - but it turned out he had a really good reason and I felt rotten. My plan to tease Martin continued to backfire on me as I discovered I'd prepared the wrong bit. And, yes, you've guessed it, Martin came to my rescue and led the study before dashing off. He had loads of knowledge and did a great job. 
'I told Sean I 'ate doing this,' Martin said, 'but Sean said "it's good for you".'

His reluctance to lead was down to his shyness - not always obvious from his tough exterior. His shyness, however, didn't stop him taking advantage of my gullibility.

One night we were leading and I asked Martin, 'Who shall I ask to open with a prayer for us?'
He looked around and said, 'Ric.'

So we started, I welcomed everyone and then said, 'Would you pray for us, please, Ric?' The look on his face and the way his jaw dropped suggested that he wasn't used to praying aloud in a group. A quick glance at Martin who was doubled up giggling confirmed this suspicion.

Once I mentioned in Zac's that I had resigned myself to the fact that I would never be the mother of the messiah to which Martin chimed in, 'You could be the Nan though,' which set him giggling again.

However, on reflection, reading my Bathsheba, harlot or innocent, monologues in Zac's probably wasn't a good idea although Ric did suggest that I was in the wrong business and that I could make a fortune writing dirty books. But for weeks afterwards every time Martin saw me he sniggered.

Another time I was leading the study on the parable of the rich fool. When I saw Martin earlier in the day he asked me what the topic was and when I told him replied, 'You're the only one that'll be relevant to.'

I wasn't sure if he meant I was the only one who could be considered rich (relatively) or the only fool. Anyway I got to the end of the study and thought to myself, 'that went okayish,' when someone (not Martin) came across and whispered to me, 'I could see you were struggling and I would have stepped in but I didn't think it was my place.'

But my discomfort following this comment was more than made up for when Martin said, 'well done,' which I considered to be the equivalent of an Olympic gold medal.

As I said Martin had huge stocks of knowledge, sometimes quite obscure. One night I sat at the back and Martin came and sat next to me. Throughout the study he kept muttering comments of disagreement to me until, at one point, I determined to find a bible verse to prove him wrong. I was soon engrossed in my search and eventually found the verse I was looking for. I prodded Martin and whispered, 'Have a look at that.'

'What?'

'That there,' I said pointing.

Which was when Sean said, 'What do you think about that, Liz?'

I looked up, horrified: the naughty girl caught out talking in the back row. Then I realised everyone was laughing. In the words of Bluebottle, 'You rotten schwine, Martin, you deaded me!'

Before we started getting cakes from Greggs I used to bake each week. Martin would peer doubtfully at the cake and ask what it was. I'd tell him, and he'd make a face before reluctantly having a piece. He'd sniff and say, 'weren't bad I suppose,' before having a second slice.

 If I knew it was someone's birthday during the week I'd make a special cake. Martin shared his birthday week with Paul and you couldn't find two more different characters. Paul is never without a smile while Martin was always, 'Ee, I'm knackered, big sigh.' 

In 2013 Sean, Martin and I were involved in baptisms in Swansea bay and afterwards the three of us went in for a swim. 

I think this photo was taken just before Martin, with a huge grin on his face, said, 'I hope you kept your mouth closed when you were swimming downstream from me.'

'Awww MARTIN!'

There were things we disagreed about and topics I made sure to avoid because I knew we would argue but sometimes it was good to wind him up. When I led I would sometimes ask Ric to bring his guitar so we could have some 'worship'. Martin hated singing. At least any form of church communal singing.

And when he worked in the prison and had to attend the annual carol service you only had to look at his face to know he was there under duress. (Speaking of the prison who can forget the time the guard, assuming he was one of the inmates, tried to lock him up?)

I was surprised when I looked back over my blog to see how often Martin's name had cropped up. I was also surprised to discover it took him four years to accept me. But I knew once I'd proved myself and was accepted I was there for good. 

One night there was a fracas in the street during bible study. While I ran back and for ineffectually between the two combatants saying, 'Please stop! Please don't!' Martin stood and observed silently, ready but hoping he wouldn't have to step in. He was, as Sean has said, the man you would want at your side, the loyal friend who would put down his own life for his friends and beloved family.

When I was first getting to know everybody I asked Sean if Martin were married. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'to the love of his life. All the guys tease him because after a road trip he can't wait to get back to Una.'

Now it's up to Una and their two beautiful daughters to keep Martin alive for his little grandchildren. With stories and photos, memories and laughter. 

But first let the tears flow.

Postscript
Just remembered: Martin was the only person I knew who felt as I did about a certain someone (not in Zac's), much revered by everybody else.

When Redcoat taught me a lesson

2006
There's a new face in Zac's (new to me anyway). He's of slight build, wearing a red coat, and with alcohol on his breath. He sits at a table and his eyes are focused somewhere way beyond the confines of the room. I guess that he has stumbled across the place and is grateful for somewhere warm indoors to spend an evening; I think he will be asleep before long.

We're continuing in the run-up to Christmas with a look at Mary. 

Redcoat isn't asleep but is following intently. He has always felt that Joseph is undervalued. Several times he interrupts and in a rambling, drawn-out fashion - the pauses typical, I think, of a drunk getting his thoughts together - makes this point. Given the chance, I would exchange knowing smiles with someone. If I had been in charge I would have been tempted to step in, in one of the pauses, and carry on with what I was saying, hoping he would get the message, but Sean waits patiently until he is sure he has finished. Others speak up and acknowledge the truth of what he is saying, giving him respect. Then Sean asks me to read the monologue I had written.

At the end of the bible study the first person to come and speak to me is Redcoat. 'That was incredible,' he says. I am humbled.

2009
There was a visitor in Zac's last night, a man who was very different in appearance from another time. Redcoat has been in rehab in Edinburgh for the last 16 months and now he's clean, he's been given some basic accommodation in a church where he does some work, and he's about to start at bible college. He shared a little with us last night about how things have come about and how he hit the very bottom before he was ready to surrender. He admitted honestly that each day is still a struggle but that his life has been turned around. 

2014 
Redcoat is around Zac's for a while, celebrating five years of being drug-free. He is preparing to attend university to do social studies.

Last night
We heard that Redcoat had died. No further details so far.

He made an impact on me and, judging by his Facebook page, on many of the students he befriended. He was cheeky and funny, clever and kind.

Too many people lost. The tragedy of Zac's.

What was 2018 like for you?

First night back in Zac's last night after a long Christmas break. A large turn-out including some newbies and some old faces.

Sean led us looking back at the previous year and what was special about it for us. Or challenging.

For me it was seeing the way a couple of regulars have really come on in their faith, their confidence, their love. It was also the fact that we now have a quite consistent group of regulars from all walks of life, with views on what Christianity is about from opposite ends of the spectrum. Sometimes a person will start coming and I think, for one reason or another, 'He or she won't last long here,' but it turns out they fit in the mix. More than that they bring something new to the palette of colours that make up Zac's, sometimes complementing sometimes contrasting with the familiar shades.

We have people of strong faith and people whose views are more humanist but the foundations of Zac's remain firmly on Christ. We had a discussion last night about the word Christian, about the way it has come to mean a variety of things it was never meant to be from wishy-washy helplessness to extremes rightly derided by the media. A right-wing fundamentalist telling gays they'll go to hell. A priest abusing young boys. An evangelistic leader who 'needs his own private jet to do God's work'.

But the root of the word Christian is, of course, Christ. It only takes a quick flick through the gospels to see the reality, the words he said, and the way he lived out those words. Love, forgiveness, inclusion. Nothing about him was weak; nothing about him incited hate or exclusion - except against himself.

He also told us not to judge. That's difficult when some people in power claim to be Christian and yet act in a very un-Christian way. But that's going off the subject and a topic for another post maybe.

It was good to be back at Zac's last night.

East of Croydon and why I never give advice

So Young Friend and I went to see Sue Perkins live at the Grand Theatre last night only to discover that we got a FREE copy of Sue's book, East of Croydon, and hardback at that! Got to be a good deal.

The show was good but not brilliant. The first half was better but after the interval she opened it to questions from the audience and they weren't very good. She was still witty and able to produce snappy answers, which is a talent in itself, but a proper stand-up show would have been better.

In the first half Sue brought on her partner - who came on carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses as it was their anniversary - and they did a sort of interviewer/interviewee thing. At one point her partner described the time recently when Sue's mother had shown up when she, Anne, was alone in the house. While Anne was making a pot of tea Sue's mum asked if she could ask her a question.
'I was watching Susan on a panel show recently,' she very well-spokenly said, 'and she used the word minge.'
Anne stopped mid-pour.
Sue's mum continued, 'Could you tell me what that means?'

The audience was in hysterics while I was thinking, 'Must ask YF what minge means.' Fortunately all was revealed.*

During the interval we discovered our almost matching boots.

Mine are the sparklier ones obviously. Explained about my post-watershed obsession with sparkles, the watershed being the realisation that I am now old. 

YF told me about one of her friendship group who had become smitten with her and I told her about my experience in university when a man became smitten with me. A late starter I was immature and inexperienced in relationships so I behaved badly. (That's my excuse anyway.) I wasn't at all interested in him so I just avoided him at all costs. 

I haven't told you the worst bit yet: he was a mature student and I was the first women he'd taken an interest in since his wife had died. I cringe thinking about it even now. By the way, she must have died young because he was only a couple of years older than us. He wasn't an old crock but a perfectly pleasant man. Just not my sort. 

I was leading Zac's on Tuesday and we came to a bit about what to do when the leadership burden becomes too heavy. I said when I led womens' bible study and it became too much of a burden I gave up.

And these are the reasons why I should never give advice. 

* Lady bits.

Reflections on Zac's

You may wonder what exactly Zac's is about so I thought I'd do a little explanation.

Sean Stillman, who leads Zac's, often describes it as a cross between an AA meeting and A&E, but let's go back to the beginning.

Sean and a local singer called Lorraine King set up Zac's Place, church in a pub? about fifteen years ago. The question mark was important as they didn't know how things would turn out. They met weekly in a variety of pubs in the town centre. Sean was finding that he was meeting lots of people, especially through his work on the bike scene, who were interested in finding out about God but who wouldn't dream of going into a 'normal' church. 

It proved to be successful but Sean realised that many of the people who attended or who would attend were struggling with alcohol-related issues so a pub wasn't the ideal meeting place. When an old gospel hall came available the Trust that supports Sean bought it and Zac's Place, church for ragamuffins was born.

The building is used weekday mornings for breakfast for rough sleepers and on Thursday evenings for a coffee bar/soup kitchen/drop-in. On Tuesday evenings it's our Tribal Gathering, our Sunday morning church meeting. Because, yes, it is a church now, a community of like-minded people who care about each other. At least that's the basic grouping that meets each week but we're also joined at each week by all sorts. 

Nobody is turned away. Zac's is known to be the last place in Swansea to ban someone. Someone who's been banned from every other facility for ragamuffins can still come to Zac's. We put up with a lot. Yes, now and again a temporary ban has to be put in place but it's with reluctance.

Drinking on the premises isn't allowed but drunks are welcome. As are addicts and the smelly, the ones with obvious mental health problems and the ones whose symptoms are less clearly seen, the ones who say they love or hate God and the ones who think they're unloveable.

A lot of churches these day boast that they're welcoming and inclusive. I would argue that they can safely say that because the only people who will attend are those with vaguely similar beliefs, people who know how to behave and who know to leave their bad habits at home. 

Zac's truly is inclusive - I hope you'll get a glimpse from my previous post. Sean's book tells the story of Zac's in full and he gives many examples of those who are or have been part of the story. It's where everyone belongs; it's where I belong.

Reflection on Zac's a week later

A week has passed so I can write calmly about last Tuesday's bible study at Zac's, the one I was leading.

I got there early and a young woman who doesn't usually come wanted to use the toilet so that was fine. Then she asked if we were doing food and when told no, we were doing bible study, she said she wouldn't stay. She was quite apologetic but went. Again fine.

A bit later Martyn, one of the regulars, arrived and came and found me in the kitchen. He said, 'Christine (not her real name) just came onto me at the corner of the road and said she'd been thrown out of Zac's because she was a Roman Catholic.'

I think my jaw must actually have dropped.

I reassured him it was no such thing, which he knew anyway, but thanked him for telling me. What on earth happened in the 100 yards between leaving us and meeting Martyn that caused such an enormous ... well, lie? 

I suppose in her head it wasn't a lie. Somehow it had become true for her. Or it was a lie and she wanted to damage Zac's for not feeding her. Who knows? 

I should have known the evening wasn't go to go strictly to plan after that.

Will (not his real name) was there. I confess my heart sank a little when he walked in. Will likes to talk, has an opinion on everything, says he believes in Jesus, has humanist beliefs, takes discussions off at tangents, irritates people, doesn't know when to stop. But he's clever and I do quite like him.

Later in the study when I'd been doing my best to get things back on track two young men came in. One asked me to read a prayer, one of those little prayer card things - RC incidentally - Christine would have approved. I said I'd read it at the end. 'Okay,' he said, then  asked me every three minutes.

His friend, who is one of the rare people to have been banned occasionally from Zac's, said, 'Jesus saved me,' just before telling us that the yellow people were coming, the Meking. Fortunately he quietened down after that. Or did he leave? I can't remember. It was turning into a bit of a blur.

His friend meanwhile took a seat at the back and continued to converse with his neighbours in between apologising and asking me to read his prayer.

Afterwards he came up to me and said, 'You didn't read my prayer.'
'I did.'
'Oh I didn't hear you.'

Postscript
At least I wasn't spat upon and I didn't have to intervene in a fist fight as was the case for another study leader recently. Physical violence is rare but occasional; verbal abuse more frequent.

A bit of a buzz

When you buy rocket, spinach and watercress salad only to discover you don't like watercress.

And our first jar of honey from the hive, courtesy of the bees and Younger Son. Very good. 

Watched the last episode of Bodyguard last night. Well, I wasn't expecting that. Still just a little puzzled over what happened exactly but I usually am. Apparently there could be more series of Bodyguard, especially as its final episode attracted a record number of viewers. I thought it was a little slow and then a bit fast. Could have done with cutting out a bit of the will it explode, won't it explode scenes as we all assumed it wouldn't, but then didn't really explain why the police officer went over to the dark side.

But, as I say, there are likely to be more series although whether the hero will star in them isn't yet known. As someone funnier than me wrote, 'He only had one job.' (And he failed in that if you haven't seen the programme.)

Very much enjoying Killing Eve though. There's nothing like a bit of (warped) humour to bring a drama alive. So many of television's drama series are very black and depressing and life's not like that. Even in the grimmest of situations there's always a bit of humour; it's what helps us get through the rest.

And now I should be practising the talky bit for tonight's bible study. I subjected George to it while we were walking although now I come to think of it he hung back, by a goodly distance, most of the time, until I put my notes away.

A windy day for a baptism

So, looking after children Thursday, Friday - blur, Saturday - blur, Sunday - baptism.

Two of Zac's regulars wanted to be baptised so it was down to the sea front on a wet and windy day. The barbecue planned for afterwards had to take place in Zac's oven instead of the beach but all in all it went okay.

Here's one of the baptisms.

I'm sure I had planned other things to write but ... they escape me now. That's what looking after children yesterday does for me. I love them dearly but when they all talk at me at once ...

Learning to shout

On Tuesday night I was leading Zac's and in my new-found 'I am woman; I can do this' mode I decided I must again call for order myself and not ask one of the men to do it. 

Last time there weren't a lot of people there and there was just a low hum of conversation; this time there were loads of people and noise. I shouted - or rather I did what is the closest I come to shouting - 'Good evening!'

One or two people looked at me and everyone else continued talking. 

Then a man at the bar, not one of our regulars, yelled, 'SHUT UP!' That did the trick.

But the important thing is that I tried. The fact that I have a naturally quiet voice is just one of those things. Query: can one have a naturally quiet voice? Or has it never been tested? Perhaps I shall go somewhere lonely and try shouting. That would be a novel experience. Do I have a loud voice just waiting to be released? Could this be a major changing point in my life? 

'All these questions and more will be answered on next week's episode of Soap.' Do you remember that programme? I think it began the career of Billy Crystal.

It's strange the way things suddenly pop into your head. Speaking of which let me share my ear-worms with you. Perhaps it will rid me of them.

When we went on holiday the song I couldn't be shot of was, 'I saw a mouse, where, there on the stairs etc'

Then it became, 'High on a hill stood a lonely goatherd.'

It's currently, 'It's coming home.' Yes, I'm late to the football party. 

* * * * * * * *
The weather has continued to be very good. Not as hot as the south-east of England has it for which I'm grateful. Yesterday I swam in the sea at Mumbles, something I haven't done for years. It was strangely both warm and cold but very enjoyable.

Not at all holiday related

Did that 'I know where I'm going so I don't need to check' thing this morning. Turned out I did know where I was going but I was two hours early. Hey ho.

I blame my pinging head. Woke up with a ping shooting up my head. My first thought was, 'I don't want to die today.' I blame that reaction on the fact I'm writing a book about a man who at one time had a near-fatal stroke. Admittedly his began with a 'really really really bad headache' not a ping.

I've since decided that I have earache as it hurts when I eat.

* * * * * *
All three children are currently in the process of buying or selling houses. It all seems awfully complicated. I am glad I have Husband to sort out this sort of thing for me. Also glad, when someone phones regarding anything that is in any way finance connected, I can do 'little woman' routine and say, 'My husband deals with all that sort of thing.' 

I'm sure I could do it - I'm almost sure  - if needed but dog and barking come to mind. 

* * * * * *
Good to be back at Zac's last night. 'Did you miss me?'
'Have you been away?'

One man whom I've seen in and outside prison told us of his decision to give up drinking after fourteen years and start to live again. He's been dry since January 11th. It's early days - he has the rest of his life to go - but it's a beginning to be applauded. 

* * * * * *
GrandSon4, who is currently in Italy visiting his Nonno and Nonna, loves Granddad's tomatoes and drags us off to the greenhouse to pick them. As they're only just beginning to ripen I bought a carton of Sainsburys Vittoria toms to keep us going. (If you've never had them they're little and very nice.) Nuora offered him one. He put it in his mouth then spat it out. He has high standards for his tomatoes.

* * * * * *
When George and I were out yesterday we met a man who lives in the road behind us. He reminded me of the time, in George's escapee days, when he turned up at this man's house early in the morning. Thinking he looked hungry the man gave him a bowl of food. Then another two. And he'd already had breakfast at home.

He doesn't escape any more but he still loves his food.

A little bit of wire wasn't going to stop George escaping.

Don't believe everything I say

So I led bible study and it went well. I enjoyed it and was enthused by the topic; I don't know if my audience was!

Before the start a young man asked me if he could read me the prayer he had written. It was lovely, heart-felt and honest. He had to leave early so i asked him if he'd read it to everyone at the start of the study. He agreed and did.

Turned out he was a bit of a showman so it was quite an entertaining few minutes but very worthwhile. He's had his problems and has been in jail and rehab. At the moment he's on the up so let's hope/pray he can maintain that.

For the study I was looking at Joseph and Nicodemus, the two members of the Jewish ruling council who buried Jesus. They'd both visited Jesus in secret previously: to show affiliation with him would have meant big trouble for them in the Sanhedrin. But at the end they made a decision; they believed what Jesus said. Although their action would have put them at odds with the rest of the ruling council they didn't care.

One of the points I was trying to make was that it was good to challenge long-held views, 'party lines' etc. Just because you've always been taught to think in one way it doesn't mean it's the right way. Biblical scholars can use and misuse the scriptures to suit themselves. The best way to check stuff out is to do the Jesus test: does this tie in with what you know about Jesus? Is this the way he would have acted/spoken?

I quoted some words from, Jeff, a preacher and fellow blogger:
We have to be careful how we discern what is right and noble and what is wrong and bad, lest we be misled. 

We may end up coming back to our original belief but we should still have enquiring minds and not take everything that is said to us as 'gospel'. I've written on here before about the dangers of believing everything we read on the internet but the advice applies to many facets of life.

Spooky or heavenly intervention?

Now let me begin by saying I'm not one of those people who see God at work in absolutely everything. I do believe that he is interested in every aspect of our lives but I also believe that He expects us to do things for ourselves as well. Like looking before we cross the road or not jumping off a tall building. And also I think some things are just coincidences. 

But now and again it's a coincidence too far.

You may know that I sometimes go into prison for the Sunday morning service. Sometimes I'm just part of the congregation, sometimes do the talky bit and sometimes, as yesterday, I lead, that that is, I introduce the speaker and the songs and stuff like that.

Yesterday the musician had chosen the songs and the first one was Amazing Grace. We're restricted in the songs we can sing as they have to be fairly well known or easy to pick up so we sing Amazing Grace quite a lot. While we were singing I was suddenly struck by one line: 'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far.

It's never hit me before but I felt I had to say something about it to the men. I've told the story on here before I'm sure but this will be a slightly different perspective.

When I was nineteen my mum had a serious stroke and was in hospital at the other side of town. We didn't have a car so one evening my cousin's girlfriend, Anne, offered to drive us there in her mother's car, us being me, my grandmother and my gran's sister, Auntie Gay.

When we came out of the hospital to come home my gran sat in the front passenger seat as was her God-given right as elder sister (!) and I went to sit behind Anne. Then my gran said, 'No, let Auntie Gay sit there so the car will be balanced.' (She and my great-aunt were both quite large ladies so I think she imagined the car toppling over if they both sat on the same side.) I duly swapped seats.

One the way home we had a crash: a lorry drove into the side of us and Auntie Gay was killed.

For a very long time I blamed myself. No, not blamed but felt I was the one who should have died. 'It should have been me.'

Then, as I say, yesterday the words of the old hymn struck me: 'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far.  Was it God who initiated my change of seat? I think maybe it was. 

Maybe he had plans for my life, plans for me to be an amazing servant for him. If that's so he may be a bit disappointed now; or maybe there's still time for me to be Billy Graham-like and travel the world evangelising millions. No, okay, I don't think that's likely either. Or maybe my purpose was to bear three wonderful children. Or just to make cakes every week for Zac's. Or as a friend has often been heard to say, 'My life is meant to be a warning to others!' Who knows? Well, God does, thankfully.

And do you know the strangest thing about this story? The thing that only struck me last night when I was in bed - which when I tell you what it is will make me sound like an idiot for not seeing it before?

Auntie Gay's real name was Grace. Spooky? Or heavenly?

Spinning a cheering crowd into a jeering mob

With all the controversy over possible interference from Russia in western elections and general news reporting the power of the media has never come under so much scrutiny. It's scary. I've written before about friends who will repost what turns out to be fake news without first checking it and I'm sad to say that I believe very little I hear these days. A big change from the old gullible me. (Who's still there in many cases although I think that's possibly a good thing.)

So with Easter just gone I got to thinking about that story and it occurred to me that the bad guys must have had a pretty good spin doctor on their side not to mention an effective media presence in order to turn the cheering crowds into a jeering mob. So, in preparing to lead next week's bible study in Zac's, I wrote this.

Jesus: son of God or charlatan?
In Jerusalem for the Passover feast this year you may encounter a man his followers are claiming to be the next messiah, son of God, saviour. Before you meet him you need to know some things that he wouldn’t want you to know. But we believe it’s important you know all the facts before making your decision.

Did you know that two years ago he was solely responsible for the destruction of a herd of 2,000 pigs? The owner of the herd said, ‘My business was completely destroyed. I’d spent a lifetime and a small fortune building up that herd and the loss left me bankrupt.’
An honest hard-working business man and his family ended up on the streets because of this man some people claim to be son of God. 
Would God condone such action? I don’t think so.

And what about his so-called friends, the people he mixes with?

Did you know that he frequently eats with tax-collectors? Yes, the same ones who work hand-in-glove with the Romans to rob you and me of our hard-earned cash.  And this coincidentally is the man who encourages ordinary working-class people to make sure they pay their taxes. For whose benefit we have to ask.

And he dines with the rich. We’ve been shown exclusive photos of him with a prostitute wrapped all over him, massaging him with oil. And when one of our own spiritual leaders challenged him about it he shrugged him off.
In fact when one of his former friends objected to wasteful behaviour Jesus again shrugged it off saying, ‘The poor will always be there.’ Yes, this is what the man who claims to care about the poor really thinks.

And he has no scruples about breaking the ten commandments. The very laws his ‘father’ gave us he breaks as if they’re nothing, of no importance. Does that sound like the sort of thing a holy man would do?

And he has no scruples either about being kept by women. He doesn’t go out to work to earn a living. Instead he treats the homes of his followers as his own and expects to be fed everywhere he goes – along with a dozen or more of his hangers-on.

Now you might have heard rumours about him raising a man from the dead but has any evidence been shown? Did a doctor provide a death certificate to prove the man in the tomb was really dead? If he has we haven’t been shown it. Magicians pull stunts like that every day. When you’ve got a gullible audience it’s easy to fool people.

But the fact that you’re reading this proves you’re not amongst those fools easily taken in. You know your own mind. You can make your own decision.

So remember if you come across him this weekend don’t believe everything his followers will try and tell you.

Getting personal

I'm leading Zac's tonight. We've been studying the gospel of Luke and tonight we arrive at the Last Supper.

I grew up attending an Anglican church - I was christened, confirmed and married in one - and in recent years I've accompanied Uncle to Roman Catholic services. 

Try as I might I cannot find grounds for the ritual that is attached to communion in traditional and orthodox churches. Jesus says, 'Eat this bread and remember me.' From that I understand him to be saying, 'Make me a part of your everyday life. Remember me when you eat and drink, remember me when you cry or you're in pain, remember me when you're laughing and singing. Involve me in your life. Don't set me apart from it.'

It's simple, it's personal. That's what I'll be trying to say tonight.

P.S. Researching the subject I discovered that Judas is fourth from the left in this famous painting. You can tell it's him apparently because Da Vinci painted him holding a money bag. Also it's said to be a representation of the moment just after Jesus announces to his friends that one of them will betray him, hence the surprised expressions on some faces. Also Jesus' feet are missing from the painting because some time after it - not strictly speaking a mural but a picture painted on a wall - was finished they knocked part of the wall away to put in a doorway.