Music and Worship

Rob was due to be in Leeds for a gig ('lounge concert' is the current fave description).  He offered to our Jesus Centre events team that on his way north, he would do us an evening, too.  The posters went up, the Parlour Cafe volunteers were put on stand-by, and Clive wired up some speakers. 

Meanwhile, John and Jennie said they'd like to come up and treat Mary and me to lunch (which doesn't happen very often, from any benefactors).  Third, it was due to be a full weekend of Burn activities, including a Friday evening event, 14 hours of worship on Saturday, and an afternoon's outreach in Fargate.

I thought I did well with the Friday morning: up at 5.30 to unload the food order; our household prayer time; an hour at 'Hallam Active' to keep my trainer (Nathan, not Andy, as previously posted) happy; rush to see Ian, our new Jesus Centres' treasurer; and finally an hour with Kat, Zeb and Zane, before John and Jennie arrived - slightly late.  Nevertheless lunch was pleasantly relaxed.  Then they chipped off to have a walk in the Peaks (despite a biting wind), while Mary had her customary afternoon rest.  I got in some preparation on our year's scriptures on discipleship, ready for giving teaching the next time we're in Coventry.  In the Jesus Centre main hall, the Film Afternoon found Colin Firth struggling to overcome his nervously-induced speech difficulty.  I was surprised no-one gave a "tut".

John and Jennie skipped joining us for tea, as the weather had sent them scrambling for warmth into the Fox House pub.  Rob was in full swing when I arrived at the Cafe.  We had a good local turnout, and as an encore he sang about his Grandma being in the 1936 Berlin Olympics.  It emerged that Liz's mother had been in the equestrian team.  You couldn't make up some things!

Rob and Jean had a leisurely breakfast in our kitchen, then went on their way.  Three birthdays today; so I texted Mick and my mate Dave, then rang Faye (six).  The afternoon gave Mary and I a chance to see James and the team at the Burn, while Steven hoped to catch up with their city centre spot.  Woodseats Baptist Church is an unprepossessing stone chapel adjacent to the Chesterfield Road. 

The two tea-station insulated jugs were empty.  I sought out the kitchen and boiled up four kettles, along the way discovering two coffee makers, a cupboard full of biscuits and a stash of Yorkshire teabags.   Some churches know how to do generous.

Around 5pm the Empower band took over.  They lead the quarterly prayer concert by that name, and had been heading up the worship on Fargate.  Here I must allow a sensitive comment: it was the cross on the platform.  First, it had draped across the horizontal bar, something that looked like a tea towel.  Yes, I know it was supposed to be discarded grave-clothes - but in January?  Then the upright was plastered with multicoloured post-it notes.  Yes, I know they were probably some prayers, confessions or burdens that folks had been invited to 'bring to the cross'.  Finally two bright red heart-shaped balloons were floating above it.  Again, probably the remnant of a message that God has shown us the greatest love.  But imagine a first-time visitor...  Altogether, it was odd.  (But our house probably has some equally weird trappings.)

I'm sure it's Rachel who sings - she looks like a Rachel.  Well, after an hour she psalmed, "I feel like I've been singing all day, Lord.  But I've got a little bit left in the jar, and I'm going to give it to You.  'Cos that's what I want my like to be like, and to be for... You..."  Comparing notes with Steven later, I found they'd been equally engaging in the outdoor scene.  They'd given testimonies standing on planters, and then retired to Starbucks where they'd prayed with folks.  Jesus Army - your anointing's passed on.

I was leading Sunday morning.  In fact I don't need to make that point, because now I always do (well, apart from twice - before the end of July).  I led the pre-teaching worship into "I lean not on my own understanding", and folks 'got it'.  There is hope.  I spent the afternoon re-listening to some of the Burn songs I'd noted.  Stevo kindly explained who Kari Jobe is. 

With meetings in Northamptonshire on Monday, I opted to drive to Kings after our evening bible study and a bite of supper.  The weather didn't look too good (it was -4C next morning, and the canal was frozen when I delivered Faye's present).  Steve looked in good shape.  But the house family were worried about Dave, whose ageing parents are giving him increasing concern, and Mavis, a member in her late 80's, who'd fallen and was in hospital.  It's interesting how mortality and eternity can simultaneously draw close. 

Claremont Hospital

Mary spent all of August in agony with a painful right shoulder.  She never got a decent night's sleep, and by September capitulated and went to the doctor.  He booked for a consultation (six weeks wait, of course).  He hinted that of the choice of three hospital he could refer her to, the small Claremont mixed NHS and private one in Sandygate, Crosspool, may be the best option.

Meanwhile, she struggled both with the pain and incapacity.  And I got severely rebuked for my neglect by our assembled children at our annual family gathering day in early October.  Lizzie even insisted that we 'went private'.  Mary wasn't clear how it may have got injured.  We'd prayed (seemingly unsuccessfully) for the shoulder twice in our Sunday evening bible study time, when I invited folks to 'do some of the stuff' after teaching on healing.

The appointment duly came round, and I went along in case the examination left her unable to drive.  And anyway, I'm soft like that.  The last time we'd visited Claremont was when a dear elderly local Church member had had a hip replacement.  If my recollection is correct, at that point it was fully private. 

It was run by a small Catholic order of nursing nuns.  The impression that stayed with me was the splendid illuminated inscription commemorating the Pope's prayer of blessing on the Order and their labours of love and mercy.  It read (something along the lines of), "Thus, with apostolic blessing, the work of the hospital is sure to flourish..." (and probably added 'to the honour of Our Lady, or some equivalent).  Hmm.  You don't seem to get much of that 'apostolic = sure blessing' stuff in Jesus Fellowship.

The building was in the middle of a make-over, and there were tradesmen everywhere.  The Main Reception had disappeared, and certainly the inscription was nowhere to be seen.  Instead, behind a timber and plastic sheet temporary partition, staff were trying to eat meals.  We found the departmental reception desk and its adjacent waiting area.

Mr Ali, the consultant, had a stripped down model of a shoulder on his desk: fascinating.  He asked Mary to undress, and then thoughtfully added, "I assume this is Mr Callard?  I once got this far with a patient, and the gentleman with her turned out just to be the driver."  With a few arm bends and swings, he confirmed a torn tendon. 
 
Then the matter of how to treat it.  The discussion went backwards and forwards about the relative advantages of surgery, the likely success rates, and what Mary would consider was a satisfactory recovery.  In the end, he offered two months' of physiotherapy to see if it would improve use and reduce the pain.  And instructed, "No heavy domestic work". 

We booked some dates at the desk, and thoughtfully drove home.  "Better than an operation and six months with my arm in a sling."  Mary stated.  She'd been canvassing some advice.  And was more stubborn in prayer for getting healed than I.

After the first round of physio, Mary had to lie on the bed holding outstretched a can of baked beans, then swinging it in arcs - several times a day.  The second time she graduated to a larger can of pie filling.  The pain was subsiding.  After the third time she borrowed a kilogramme work-out weight from Barrie, which was "much easier to handle".  She packed it to take with her when we were away for weekends recently, but muttered about the heaviness of her overnight kit.

Finally, triumph!  She'd got restored mobility, and very little pain.  The physiotherapist signed off her notes, and booked an appointment with Mr Ali.  By now, the Claremont building work was done, and a transformed Reception glowed with subtle LEDs.  We padded softly down the thickly carpeted corridor.  Mr  Ali had been running late all afternoon, but took his time to confirm the results.  "No operation," he congratulated. 

Maybe there was just a sprinkling of apostolic good fortune around.

Induction at Hallam Active

I finally conceded that a modest gym subscription would be sensible.  At least, it would be preferrable to overdoing it with my knees, keeping up jogging three times a week.  The new Heart of the Campus facility down the Crescent invites the local community to use its various amenities.  This includes the professional-level Sports Centre.  Having established that I was eligible, I then had to stump up some funds. 

Now, our house family finances aren't too bright.  Food, excess phone charges, gifts, trips to the cinema, repairing dinks in the cars and vets fees all pass without comment.  But personal expenditure is under scrutiny.  Mercifully, apart from my weekly cup of tea at the Choir, and even less regular Costa Express on the motorway, I hardly figure in the statistics.  That reminds me: I need a hair cut.

If I paid by plastic, I could get a whole year's subscription for the cost of eight separate months.  That takes me just up to August, and the Multiply trip to East Africa, in which I have to tote around 30kgs baggage in tropical temperatures.  I couldn't lose out.  Cheri, on Reception, was all smiles and helpfulness, but our blooming prepaid Kalixa card wasn't behaving.  I left, apologising and frustrated.

After Andy, Malcolm and Andrzej agreed that the problem was that there wasn't enough money on the card, I had to have another go.  And I had to book my Induction with the Personal Trainer, too.  "It's a University.  There'll be mixed changing rooms - and showers," I bantered with Steven while in Mary's earshot.  10.15am, Wednesday duly arrived, and a couple of guys helped me to work out the locker latches in the Mens room.

I sauntered into the main Suite and located the Trainer.  I didn't get his name, but we'll call him Andy: he looked like an Andy, breaking into smiles through his blokish beard.  He grabbed a Plan sheet, and began to grill me on my 'previous experience'.  "How often can you come?"  "Well, three or four times a week," I heard myself reply.  "Good.  I wouldn't have bothered with you if you'd said less than that.  You're not ready for the free weights, yet."   He ordered me to perform five minutes on a cross trainer, while he thought about the challenge I represented, and finished off his conversation with a slim lass doing impossible push-ups.

Then the machines.  I'd never seen a Leg Press before.  Andy slipped into the seat, and being about a foot shorter than I, made it look easy.  Seemingly he was lifting the entire stash of weights.  "Go on," he nodded.  "And try not to lock your knees.  Or crash the weights..."  he added, after my first press.  I contorted like a giraffe in a shipping crate.  "Twelve of these; a minute's break and twelve more; then another twelve.  And a bit faster.  Okay?"

"Right.  The Chest Press."  I struggled.  "Was that 25kg?" I smiled weakly.  "Nine."  He hmm'd.  "You'll be alright."  Across the aisle, guys heaved on monstrous bars and pulleys.  And so we tackled the Pull Down and the Vertical Lift (only ten of these - an unexpected concession).  "Right, get on with that lot," he smiled.  Finally he despatched me to a Cycling machine for 15 minutes Aerobics.

Nearly an hour had passed.  "That's your Plan."  He waved the sheet and put it in a concertina file, under 'I' for Ian.  "All the latest technology.  Tomorrow, you do an hour's CV.  Anything you like - Rowing Machine, Treadmill, Cross Trainer...  Then it's the work-out Plan again.  Got it?"  I nodded, and stepped aside as a frail elderly gentleman negotiated his way from the doorway shuffling a zimmer frame.  They are among the very best and trusted professionals, Hallam Active.  And I will find out Andy's proper name.  "Two girls helped me to put my socks back on," I lied to Mary.

All Quiet in Liverpool

Strong winds and high seas were pounding the west coast.  "I quite fancy the idea of going up to Formby or Crosby to see it",  I suggested to Ian.  He'd asked us if we'd got anything in mind for Saturday afternoon.  We'd already cancelled our customary Friday evening outreach outside Sainsburys by the University tram stop.  Mary couldn't guarantee keeping the barbecue from blowing over.  Then we'd had a blustery drive over the Snake Pass and along the M62 before lunch.  Apparently, flights from the United States were arriving in Europe up to two hours early.

Mark was away in Cornerstone (Birmingham) for the weekend.  "For his annual hair-cut", one wag suggested.  Blaze was away with Dave in Leicester, Chris had been admitted to hospital with pneumonia, and Moira had a bad cold.

After lunch, Ian was keeping an eye on the children, while Lil and Kerry went to buy a sewing machine from the local charity shop, and then tried out all its fancy stitches.  He was in a good frame, obviously having benefitted from the central Church events over the past two or three weeks.  We chatted on-and-off, and I read a conference paper from The Global Think-Tank on Business As Mission (BAM).  We've got to get our act together to help our Multiply partners with developing business plans, ahead of the summer visit to Kenya and Uganda.  I don't know why I say 'we', as it's basically down to me to scope.

Because we'd cancelled the barbecue, we had a big box of donated cream cakes left over, so they constituted a 'Red Cross' parcel for the deprived saints of Merseyside.  Not too deprived - they've got a nice new coffee machine.  I mentioned to Ian that we'd been singing a few new songs, and we rolled out a couple before the evening bible study on John chapter 1.  It was great having Kerry playing, too; but Ian and I were the only guys.

As I lay in bed, I hoped to enjoy the sound of the winds, but Mary and I were on the wrong side of the house.  By Sunday morning, the gales had blown out.

We arrived early at the Arche, for our morning meeting.  Usually the back yard section is alive with ducks and chickens, part of the charity's social enterprise activity.  Today it was bare.  "Oh," I commented to Nick, "don't tell me they all voted for Xmas?"  "Well, they were here last week," he added thoughtfully.  It was due to be his 60th birthday, and back at Lighthouse, they'd put up balloons and made him a generous jam and fresh cream cake (with candles).

He normally does the after-lunch washing-up.  But I nipped into the kitchen, and Wayne and I got stuck in instead.  Wayne worked like a machine, keeping up with the draining, drying and stacking as fast as I was simply washing.

I was due to take the evening bible study in Sheffield, so Mary and I got away at 3pm.  On the way to the motorway I thought I could here the rhythmic rumble-plap-plap of a (very) flat tyre.  But, stopping and checking, it wasn't us.  I got stuck behind a real Sunday driver in Glossop, and negotiated the whole Snake Pass at nothing more than 30mph.  Down at the Jesus Centre, "Gender in the Church" went well.  Even John, our gritty heckling old Pentecostal, appreciated the exchanges.

On Monday morning, Jack asked me where the heavy-duty wheel brace had got to.  Our car had a completely flat back tyre.

New Year Celebration 2015

It's going to be twelve months of modestly-scaled events.  But the turn-of-the-year national celebration is customarily more in-house and low-key, anyway. 

Northampton Council appeared to have generously cancelled parking charges, I suspect for post-Xmas shoppers.  But it may simply have been staff cuts.  When we arrived, St John's Multistorey was already filling up.  My five passengers, including Clara and Lu, two Chinese-speaking students, had all fallen asleep en-route. 

I'd gathered that I wasn't due to be taking part in the stage items, as Farhad hadn't me sent a running order.  It was true that there were no baptisms (my usual responsibility at national events), but in fact we were due to recognise a new church household in Coventry, which is part of my 'patch'.

Perhaps more pressing on my mind was my mobile phone.  There's been an interminable dispute over text messages since we changed contracts from Orange/EE/HTC to Class Telecomm/Vodaphone/Motorola.  I have half a dozen 'bogey' numbers that my phone won't send SMSs to under any circumstances.  These include Mick, Kelly, Jack, Barrie - a pretty significant inconvenience.  I've done a good engineer's diagnosis run: how are the numbers stored?, is there a problem with signal/network connection?, etc.  Tellingly enough, I've never - at the same time - had a problem with an old EE pay-as-you-go phone that I've hung on to for just such eventualities.  We've tried a new handset (reluctantly - as it took more than an afternoon to reset all my applications, and then I've lost some data).  Most recently, Class Support sent me a new SIM.  No better.  Today, I'm under instructions to try the SIM in someone else's handset.  I have to pick some guinea-pigs.

The afternoon items were fresh and positive.  We introduced 'Sovereign over us' - much better than the attempts I'd achieved around the Regions.  And, led by Steve, we recognised the pioneering Coventry church household 'New Furrows'.  It has several of my old friends in the membership, including Nick and Gav and their families.  I'd also squeezed in a look at Andy's extended range of old book and article reprints.  Mary and I are recording NIV gospels of Luke and John respectively, for his visually impaired project. 

The tea scene was the usual mele.  But I found Viv, and we did the SIM-swap bit with his Nexus 4 - and it worked fine.  Then the same with Gav and his Sony Experia Z1.  So, job done; all but the long email to Support that I'd have to send to list the results.  I wanted to catch up with Clive from Springfield, and I know they eat in the Cafe, along with Battle Centre and Open Doors.  The peace and sanity was like landing on the Mayfair and Park Lane end of your Monopoly board.  I saw Dave our ICT techie, too, and we speculated if GCHQ are interrupting my texts and bodging sending them on.  Seriously.

In the evening Mick slightly cut short the programme.  Constitutionally, I'm not a 'less is more' protagonist.  But we seem to have covered the 2015 word of discipling effectively, and had engaged well in heartfelt worship.

Steven stayed on board with Mary and I as we headed to Kings House.  We were stopping overnight so I could take the Sunday morning event in Coventry.  Mary had arranged to see Andrew, Ellen and crew on their longboat over breakfast.   We opened the 'spreads' cupboard door to find only yeast extract and marmalade for our toast, and explored the cake tins with similar small returns.  And our folks at home still insist we don't overdo food.  

The Coventry morning meeting rolled along well, and Simon inspired the congregation to pray out about their needs so they could move forward in 2015.  Then he showed me the leaking boiler plumbing in the Jesus Centre.  We settled on lunch at Open Doors, and had a constructive exchange with Ruth about "kids' splots".  As we hit the M1, once again my passengers fell asleep.  I'll take it they were content in their spirits.  It's a good job I'm well adapted to lonesomeness.

New Year's Eve (though Jack missed me)

The guys were all due to be off for a Leaders' Day event at Cornhill on January 1, so nobody was committing to a late night.  Interesting; because locally this midnight is usually heralded with an impossible crescendo of fireworks.  No point in trying to sleep.  I don't know how it is in your neighbourhood, but here in S10 we get several nights throughout the year when you could think you were in Baghdad (or maybe Beijing).

Jack, of course, wanted a bonfire.  I'd spent two days ripping into the front garden laurels and rhododendrons, and the back garden holly, hawthorn and privet hedges.  We had plenty of fuel on hand, and more branches still strewn across the lawns.  Earlier in the year, Jack had properly landscaped the 'pit', providing terracing and a paved path with handrail.  If you didn't mind the mud and smoke, it amounted to a fine spectator facility.

James, Jon and Leone from Grimsby had never done anything as adventurous as this.  (Leone sat in front of me, unconcerned in a faux lambs-skin hat.)  Flora and Mum, over from China for the graduation ceremony, were quite excited too.  Piers and Thea were with us for a few days, too, but Phil and Donna had changed their minds.  Still, we made up quite a crowd.  We warbled through some songs - something of a challenge when the overall light intensity on the books was only a few lumens (apart from the geeks with LED head-torches).  We shared in turn what had been good about 2014.  The words of appreciation for Mary at her 70th birthday, and sharing bedtime prayers with Ben and Ryan on our few days away together in Wales, came to my mind.

A few more songs, then it was hopes for 2015.  Mine is that we do some decent fundraising for the several projects we've lined up for the Multiply trip to Kenya and Uganda in August.  But that seemed a bit out of range for the immediate (and anyway, it's largely down to me to make it happen!).  Maybe that's why Jack thought I'd skipped the evening. 

At 10pm, a tall figure stalked along the drive.  Viv had accepted Jonno's invitation to do the 'real thing' ('til past midnight) at No21, and called in on the way.  Now Ray and Lil were getting cold, and Jack had expended all the fireworks, so we called halt.

I note from my diary that last year we spilled over into January 1.  Perhaps creeping old age is beginning to tell on us all.

And on to Narrow Way again

Richard was keen that Mary and I should be the first guests to stay in the large bedroom of their newly-finished dormer conversion.  The community house is unusual, as it straddles and interconnects two corner properties on adjacent roads: 133 Cambridge Street and 37 Sykefield Avenue.  The new extension is part of the latter, and it means that the whole house family can be accommodated together.

I nipped over from Springfield, and Mary arrived from Sheffield after negotiating the snow-bound roads at home.  But having settled round a cup of tea, we were off again back across Leicester for a joint Saturday evening meeting.  Richard had explained about the IDEA groups they're in the process of rolling out - individual development, encouragement and accountability, and Andy and Eva added their perspective.  These will happen every other Saturday evening from now on for covenant members.  The initial try-outs for the 'facilitators' (leaders, to the rest of us) have been excellent.

The daybreak view from the dormer bedroom spanned a maze of rooftops, with the city centre in the uninterrupted middle distance.  As the sunlight moved round, it was actually quite an engaging perspective.  Sunday morning event was in a new hall at Overdale Junior School, as their regular venue in Netherhall wasn't available over the Xmas break  A good crowd turned up, and we led off with rousing songs to make the place feel at home.  Nick, a regular member of the congregation, and the caretaker for the buildings, was clearly happy.  We successfully mastered 'Sovereign over us', and I thought the hall could be a great alternative choice for the future.

After lunch, Mary and I decided to stay around for the Narrow Way evening get-together.  Jack at home was keen that we should try to give a lift to Sam from the Farm.  He'd arranged an overnight adventure in a barn in Hathersage - so we had time to kill.  I put on some extra layers and walked the length of Narborough Road - sad, but at least I wasn't going to get lost.

Folks arrived for a viewing of the final third of the Visual Bible dvd of John's gospel, dramatised straight from the original Good News Bible text.  Sam duly phoned to say he was leaving Northampton Jesus Centre, so we hiked back to Springfield to collect him.  He promptly fell asleep until, approaching midnight, we slithered up the drive back at home. 

The two church household groups have come a long way in interacting together, and have definite vision for 2015.  So, as I unpacked, I allowed the thought that some part of my national leadership patch is doing okay.