Learning from sharing…

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MySpace.com – Carrie’s Coffee House – 26 – Female – Fulton, Mississippi – www.myspace.com/carriecoffeehouse

Housegroup was great again last night.

We had a visit from Alison Schuchs a former Dunoon lass who married an American Sailor from the Submarine base that was a feature of the Holy Loch for so many years. 25 years later Alison and Mike now live in the Mississippi town of Fulton- a small southern American town of about 3000 folks. Which makes Dunoon look big! (We boast 11000 residents.)

Alison told us the story of Carrie’s Coffee House. 5 years ago, their daughter Carrie, aged 20, was killed in a car accident.

Mike and Alison, in the midst of their grief, decided that the insurance money paid out for their loss should go on something that mattered. They had this long standing dream of a place for young people to gather, that was safe and supportive, and permeated with Jesus.

In Fulton, a large building had been left to the town specifically to be used for young people. The town council had no idea what to do with it- then in stepped Mike and Alison! Now they have a thriving non-alcoholic bar, cum music venue. They run it almost single handedly- it is their passion, their calling- their church.

So, if you are ever in Fulton on a Saturday night- call in… See what God can do with willing hands. See how he can bring wonderful things from tragedy.

As we sat in Housegroup and listened to these stories of hope from thousands of mile away, we were all inspired…

Thanks Alison.

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Almost silent…

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The blog has been quiet recently as I have been working on finishing a collection of stuff for Proost called ‘Listing’- hopefully available soon via a computer near you, as a book or a download.

This will be a collection of poems and meditations based on some of the great lists in the Bible- the Beatitudes, Fruit of the Spirit, Seasons. Some of these things are already on this blog.

By way of a taster- and to show you that I have not been lazy- here is another…

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A time to be silent

There is a time for all things under heaven

A time for marram grass to move
In gentle air
And for the dying sun
To turn all green things gold
To alchemise the evening
Into a luminal place
On the twilit edge
Between here
And there

A time when the last call of the curlew
Will echo away over the dimming mountains
And the stillness is itself

Whispering

A time for this day

To silence

The soul

Conversation as dance…

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A little more from my Ecclesiastes 3 ‘seasons’ project…

Now is the time to dance

There is a time for all things under heaven…
And today we met

You raised a friendly eyebrow-
Quizzical, but not unfriendly
I smile
And make some comment about weather
Or the price of bread
You laugh, and in the music of your voice
I hear the Spirit
And the dance begins

It is not King David dancing naked
Nor the dance of St Vitus
I have no grace, no artistry
But still
We were beautiful

You settled down in a seat close by
And looked out the window
Finding something to examine in the middle distance
And we were quiet
Aware of each other
But without acknowledgment
Between us however, almost visible in the air we share
Are questions
Identity
History
Activity
Humanity

I do not jive to feel alive
Nor dance like an Egyptian
I am the ungainly morris man
Or like an old bloke at a wedding
Who should know better
But still this waltz we begin
Is under our very own
Mirror ball

Outside the sun warmed the winter day
And kids played
You found a hook to hang a sentence on
And dangled it in my direction
So we moved closer to one another
And music swelled
We spoke of the purpose of the day
And a little of the life lived around it
The shape of you showed a little

I can dance a Gay Gordon
Like a church warden
But should I try the disco
I am a herd of elephants
With ants in their pants
But you and me
We are starting to tangle
In tango

We found the rhythm
And something in the music made it possible
To speak of things usually buried deep
And with a surprising cadence
We found ourselves in a minor key
Dealing in brokenness
Pain and hurt
Trust betrayed
Damage done that left deep scars

Some people dance like Salome
To beguile and manipulate
But if you should fall under my spell
Your head will never be upon a plate

The conversation turned to Jesus
And his failing followers
And I held my breath, lest I tread your toes into the carpet
Until in a moment I was Neuryev
My blood flowed like silk
And we were alive
Salsaing with the Spirit of God

Because now
Is the time
To dance

dance

Englishness, marmite and folk music…

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Here’s a bit of cockney folk-punk raconteur Billy Bragg, backed by a selection of brilliant musicians- including guitar genius Martin Carthy, and Chris Wood, he with the ‘dark brown voice’.

It manages to combine some stuff that says something right and true about being from a particular English tradition. One that is unsure of itself, and even if it has some awareness of it’s roots, is not static, but takes and incorporates from other cultures, and becomes something new…

And despite all the Empire Building and oppressing.

Despite the dark satanic mills and the miners strike.

Despite the Tolpuddle Martyrs and the Poll Tax.

Despite the Spinning Jenny and the Enclosure Acts

Despite Margaret Thatcher and the death of ideology

England is still a wonderful place.

And because the sound quality of the last one was rubbish- here is a bit more from the collective of musicians called ‘The imagined village.’

Finally, from the same collection- a slice of Benjamin Zephaniniah which gathers some more ideas of Englishness…

Winter (and William) stage a comeback…

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Will with hood up

Will with hood up

William has been away to the Lochgoilhead Feis this weekend, run by Lochgoilhead fiddle workshop.

He has had a ball- lessons on the Clarsach (hence the photo in the earlier post) the fiddle, and whistle, as well as Gaelic singing and pecussion.

He also had a chance to do a high ropes course, go out on a high speed boat, and shoot arrows. We missed him, but he had loads of fun.

We went to fetch him this afternoon, and to watch some of the kids put on a bit of a show. It was great to see so much enthusiasm for making music- which I think is one of those key things that holds communities together. Because Will is at a Gaelic unit in school, he has a chance to get involved in all sorts of Scottish cultural events- and it gives us such pleasure to see him soaking into the stuff of our adopted land.

A few weeks ago he went to a Celtic connections event with school, and seemed to pick up a hero in young singer Norrie MacIver, accordionist, beatboxer and member of the band Bodega. Norrie was one of the tutors at the Feis, and Will has come back full of enthusiasm- wanting to take up learning an instrument again. Thanks Norrie! We all need role models, and people to draw us on…

The weather was dreadful though! The drive down the spectacular Hells Glen is always a challenge- and when there is snow on the road it can be treacherous.

So here are some photos…

Now is the time to scatter…

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Now is the time to scatter

There is a time for all things under heaven

A time for the sent ones of God
To follow the rough roads
Into the barren broken places
To look for the marks left by Jesus
On the soft tissue
And brittle bones
Of the Imago Dei
The stinking
Wretched
Image bearers of the Living God

Time for the insurgency of God
To follow the mission
Into the hostile places
To seek out the secret stains left by the love
That was woven
Into the very core
Of the Imago Christi
The failing
Faithless
Manifest images of the Christ

Time for the dancers of the new Kingdom dance
To look for the music of Jesus
Amid the static and street noise
Tuning to the high fluting fragile sound
Vibrant and resonant
To the gracenotes
Made there by Spiritus Sanctus
By we discordant
Cursing and gossiping
Vessels of the Spirit of the Living God

Time for the revolutionaries of God
To follow the long hard march
Unyoked and with easy burdens
Looking for the soft places where people are
Where freedom flickers
And our hearts soar
And seek out the Participatio Christi
The weak but willing hands
And sore feet
Of those who would work where Jesus is

For now is the time for holy huddles to scatter
On the winds of the Spirit

A postcard from our community…

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Another piece of heaven.

Housegroup has just finished again tonight. Just 9 of us, a log fire, and a packet of hobnobs.

And this evening, we shared with a friend who had finally made contact with a long lost daughter, we laughed a lot, and cried a little.

We shared our struggles with all the stories of God ordering genocide in the OT (Check out 1 Samuel chapter 15.)

And we wrote letters to some friends.

Lovely. And I am so grateful.

This is cool- online anagrams…

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If you love words, like I do- you will love this.

Check out this anagram making site...

I threw in ‘This fragile tent’ to see what it would give me, and oh what pithy delight!

Here is a delicious selection. You can be the judge as to which ones are most fitting!

Flatteries thing

Heartfelt siting

Integrates filth

Fattest hierling

Latte infighters

Faith resettling

And- perhaps my favourite… Faltering theist