What’s the Story in Dalamory

Today's entertainment is struggling with the mail-merger and labelling feature o­n Outlook. Yes – it is time those Christmas cards were written and posted. Each year I have to relearn the program. It is worse knowing that I could do it last year. It might be an incentive if I time myself and keep a note each year….then I can try to beat the record.

Gordon Brown has come out in support of the Prime Minister's policy o­n university top-up fees. Given their past history of spats, it is not surprising that I find myself deeply cynical about this. What is the hidden agenda?
When I was a hard-working clerical worker, some forty years ago, I thought students should pay for their higher education. But sadly today, I see too many graduates working in fast food outlets. And there are too many students having to work long hours at low-paid jobs, just to have enough food to eat. Being a university student is about having a way of life which allows the mind to concentrate o­n the tasks at hand and to roam freely to think impossible dreams. What chance do modern students have unless Mummy or Daddy has the wherewithall to support them? And what chance does that give future generations in our country?

Sometimes you just have to start writing and something starts to develop. An idea leaps o­nto the page – or does it leap from the page into your head? It is like that with writing a sermon. There comes a time when no more reading or thinking will do. The words have to be written and the thoughts become set in type and become real because of that. But a sermon o­nly becomes real when it is from the heart. There is no point preparing to preach platitudes or theories. The whole point is to share some of the mystery at the heart of the universe. That is what I try to tell myself as I struggle to do justice to the words each week. Sometimes it works, often I fail miserably, but at least I keep trying…….and thankfully people still come to church and listen. Amazing.

It is a feature of modern life that there is too much paperwork. My guess is that nearly everyone feels the same. Even if not working at a paid job, people are still assailed with junk mail dropping through letter-boxes. There are ways and means to cut down the mountain of paper adverts, but that does not help the continually growing pile of information that is thrust at us. I often feel as if my head is not big enough to hold it all. Things drop out. Does this signal the beginning of a happy old age? Or is it just that I need lessons in setting worthwhile priorities? My suspicion is that it is a bit of both. Ah well! Happy weekend.

I am amazed at how many people in this area have become adept at o­nline shopping. Anything and everything –  books, media, computers, wine, flowers, books, clothes, diy, paints etc…. The trouble is, I tend to leave it too late when it comes to Christmas shopping. Ho hum! I suppose it serves me right. Mind you, there is nothing so satisfying as browsing round a good bookshop. There is something about the feel of the book: its cover, appearance, pictures and layout, which tells you almost at a glance whether you will enjoy it. And it is very subjective. If you can choose a book for someone and get it right, then you have done a remarkable thing. 

It is nearly time for my dreaded radio spot. Fortunately I cannot hear what I sound like, as local radio (Oban FM) does not reach the island of Seil. It is pre-recorded, but I resist the offer of the presenter to provide a tape. I had better not do my Christmas Bah Humbug routine though. Perhaps I should ask the congregation for ideas. How about Who is real – Rudolph and the reindeer or Joseph and the Magi? Or Punch-up between Santa and Saviour?

Maybe not – safer to stick to twinkling stars. That way it can appeal to mystic and sceptic.

I don't want to say Christmas bah humbug! That would not be edifying for a woman of the cloth. But…… and you know from the very first sentence that there is a But.

I am not in the city very often, I do not like the traffic, especially in the rush hour, and at this time of year I find the excesses in the shops rather disturbing. There is constant seasonal music – designed to instil a spend more money now attitude in the customers. There are too many sad streamers, worried faces o­n people, queues at cash machines and screaming toddlers. How wonderful it was to clear the gridlock at last and head up the northern roads. Very few cars, a beaming benevolent moon and stars that remind me of the star that signalled the very first Christmas. A reminder of what this festival is all about. Things can be peaceful, calm and different – even in the midst of mayhem. I guess I like living in the country.

Outside my study window is a bird feeder. The hungry hoardes descend and fight and squabble to see who can be king or queen of the peanuts. They make me laugh a lot more than squabbling people do.

There is an old pop song – Everybody loves Saturday nights. Unfortunately, too many of my Saturday nights are a scramble to finish preparation for the Sunday. Still, all is now ready, even if I am not. Be not fooled, the life of a clergyperson is not an easy o­ne. So why do we do it? All I can say is – there must be a God, and there is such a thing as a vocation.

I enjoy watching the Colin and Justin team and their programme o­n BBC2 – The million pound property experiment. In fact, DIY and garden surprises make great entertainment. It set me thinking about clergy houses and how many of my colleagues end up living in dull, dismal or frankly make-do houses. Often it is because congregations just don't have the money and the poor old minister or priest feels unable to do much about it because after all they follow the baby born in a stable. Many houses are dark, damp, depressing and downright unsuitable. Living in a tied house is never easy, and the job of ministry is all-consuming. The least we can do is to make things more comfortable. So I have written to Colin and Justin. Who knows, maybe a makeover is coming to you.