See You on the Other Side.

See You on the Other Side

Little did I know when I was being escorted out of Edge End High school hall being told I was ‘too thick’ to sit the Math’s exam that I would be writing this blog today. Little did I know that when I ran away from a work colleague in 1987 who bullied me terribly did I think I would become a blogger! Little did I know that as I watched my children being born would I be writing from a Vicarage that belongs to the Church of England! Little did I know that as I died a slow death on a stage at a comedy club in Manchester did I know I would have just completed Morning Prayer a few minutes ago! Little did I know that when I was being punched to the ground by a ‘footballer’ who didn’t like red cards did I know I would be staring at a dog collar by the side of my computer! Little did I know that some years ago as I watched a comedian at a packed Salford Lowry perform comedy I had written did I know that in a weeks’ time I will be referred to as Fr Alex, and little did I know that when I started the journey to ordination did I know I would be about to start work as the curate at St Matthews church in Burnley.

EDGE END HIGH SCHOOL NELSON

This is my last blog before the big day, an exciting week full of events and experiences, an interview with the Bishop, a rehearsal at the Cathedral and then whisked away on retreat to spend a few days in silence and prayer.  I can do the prayer, but I’m not sure about the silence, I am one of those characters that love’s solitude but not so much silence unless I am perched on the top of Pendle Hill, listening to nothing other than the robust and noisy sheep surrounding me or the occasional moo of a cow down in the valley.  I am very much a forward thinking man you know? As I listen to predominantly eighties music on my IPod walkman following wherever the lead of the dog takes us.

Blackburn Cathedral

Pendle Hill - My favorite place in Lancashire

I find myself in a bit of a bubble at the moment drifting from the past to the future and back again, thinking about all the good wishes, all the happy memories and how wonderful the future will be or not. On a recent visit to a clergy friend he summed it up quiet beautifully I thought, he said ‘Being a curate is accepting the fact that you are the person cleaning the shit from the gutters one minute, to the expectation of being the Mayor of the borough the next’. I found this most helpful although I do get a little nauseous going up ladders and I am not one to wear excessive bling on damp irregular Mondays to Fridays’.

My biggest quandary today is travel bag or suitcase for the retreat? As I have to take all my clergy gear plus ever so smart casual clothing that will do for all weather eventualities. One thing I come to consider as I prepare to ship out for a few days is that my underpants collection is so flipping middle aged! Not a brand in sight and not a pattern that is externally desirable and not a whiff of designer boxer shorts. I can tell you that whilst I appear effervescently handsome and youthful on the outside, internally I am deeply middle aged. I was gently reminded of this by my dear loving wife who inquired, ‘is there any form of lumbar support I didn’t have?’ I told her my ankle; knee, calf, shoulder, neck pillow and truss were all part of keeping the well-oiled machine functional as I rapidly approach my 46^th birthday. My daughter reinforced this today as well when she suggested the shirt I was wearing was far to young for me!

Middle Aged Underpants

And as the big occasion is just a few days away I have of course considered my attire for the ordination service, the un-trendy underpants are a given, but I have a dilemma between the Burnley FC socks I was given on Father’s day or the not very comical, comical Holy socks I got as a freebie when I ordered my clergy shirts! However big note to self is, do not wear the genuine fake Sergio Tachini white ones that I wear around the house. Generally I think I am okay as I have this week been wearing my dog collar around the house and you will be pleased to know I was also wearing the shirt to gain familiarity! It is a little uncomfortable as my slender double chin rest upon the collar but I think I will just about cope okay. Cuff links is another matter, what a kafuffle that is and it appears for this to be a long standing principal of wearing clergy shirts my wife will have to accompany me everywhere I need to dress myself!

A Clergy Collar

In truth I have that bubble in the tummy that fluffiness in the head that is either excitement or fear or a caffeine hangover I’m not sure which one is correct, but after a long, long journey to this coming weekend I can’t help but feel extremely proud of finally making it to the Cathedral on the 4^th July. After many set -backs and disappointments after many knockers and blockers after many dis-believers and mickey takers it appears I have made it to the big day. It has to be said that the encouragement, love, support, laughter and fun has been a massive antidote to the former.

I have learnt many things about myself and others during the trip, dealing with death and dying, dealing with hurt and rejection, accepting different opinions, witnessing maliciousness and intolerance, observing Christian bashing,  church in terminal decline etc. etc. Negativity however is not my game I hate it with a passion, why are some churches struggling? Look in the mirror would be my reply.

And so as I leave this final blog before ordination with you and I thank all who read any one of my many blogs, I hope that you may have been encouraged by a rather eccentric lay person to have confidence in your faith, to rejoice in the truthfulness of God, to understand life does not always need to be serious and in the words of my Father, ‘Always think Positive’. The biggest gratitude goes to my family, I love them all dearly without them this would not have happened. Thanks Be To God!

God may not be leading you to ordination, but he is leading you to something, you have a choice to be led by him or by something else, it really is that simple. My life is led by God and it is fed by God, it has been life changing it has been so wonderful to share it with you who read my blogs.

Please pray for all those being ordained this Petertide, both Deacons and Priests.

Thank-you for reading and see you on the other side of ordination,

Much love

Alextheanglican.

Pre Match Nerves

Pre Match Nerves

Hi friends,

I don’t know if you have strolled around your local cemetery recently after all they can be rather unsettling places with a, certain unease about them.

I am now in the last few weeks of un-ordained life and that is rather unsettling and although I have kept myself very busy the emotional roller coaster doesn’t appear to be abating.

This morning I found myself slow stepping around the cemetery which is just a hundred yards or so from my new home. I have found a rather picturesque route that brings me into the graveyard via a pretty little wood that at the moment accommodates a vast harvest of flowering white garlic. A Heron has made himself a very substantial nest high in the trees which makes for a fantastic watch tower for the modest river and livestock that flows through gently on its way. I have what feels like a significant incline to negotiate which in reality is probably only a slight gradient yet is more than enough for me to blow a little and indeed a little bit more. After scrambling over a few rocks and over intimidating tree roots I make it into the lower end of the cemetery grounds. In this remote corner where the deceased have long been dead I have a multitude of options and this occasion I take a right along a path that leads to some of the oldest and most dilapidated tombstones in the Borough.

I never considered it before but in my wisdom I have decided that cemeteries hold much sadness but also much beauty and over the last few weeks I have been drawn to this place to consider my future ministry.  The recent walks have been thought provoking as I think about all my Argos work friends and wonder if I am now nothing but a distant memory. The company email account is now well and truly closed and if it wasn’t for social media would our friendships be over? I certainly hope not.

And then the landscape and my minds attention focuses’ on the intimidating and enormous gravestones. This corner is very old, paths are rapidly decaying, I found a grave from 1862 the oldest one I have spotted so far, and it is apparent that not many people come down this way anymore. Many of the graves are badly damaged the stone inscriptions are so badly eroded they are unreadable and the names have a distinct feeling of long ago, there is a Walter, and a Florence at least 3 or four Alfred’s, and even a Fanny thrown in for good measure (or maybe a little humor) . Flowers aren’t in this part of the cemetery anymore; the only thing growing is the grass. Are all the loved ones deceased?

As I climb the hill I think about the ordination ceremony, I desperately want to talk to anyone who will listen to me talk about it but I fear I am boring people to death and intentionally make the effort to say nothing. I think about some of my friends who will be ordained alongside me for whom life appears much more stressful than my own right now. I’m mad, in fact disappointed at myself by offering what I thought were words of encouragement to a dear colleague which in fact had the opposite effect and actually exacerbated my friends feeling of frustration and anxiety. Others have personal worries and concerns and I just feel awful that I can’t do anything to help other than to keep my mouth shut and not put my foot in it again. The butterflies come and go and pass through like the Red Arrows over a palatial palace or airshow somewhere and before I know it I have arrived in a more lively part of the cemetery.

Fletcher my dog pulls on the leash, a sure sign something is stirring and indeed I wasn’t to be disappointed as ahead two large rabbits disperse a bit like the aforementioned Red Arrows breaking away from a formation. They run for their lives and dive into the sanctuary of some well matured bracken thicket bushes of some description fearing that Fletcher would eat them alive. Where I walk now there is more recent gravestones from the seventies and eighties and dead rotting flowers are apparent across the landscape, I am stopped in my tracks by the most splendid gravestone that wouldn’t have looked out of place at The Vatican and on further inspection I discover it was that of a young professional boxer who died at the mere age of just 24.

If my friends don’t come to my ordination will it still be special? I think to myself. Why on earth am I thinking that? I also consider. What if it rains heavily on the day will all the guests fit into the house? What if there is not enough cake and teabags? What if I get someone’s name wrong during a funeral? What if I get the time wrong for a Baptism visit? What if the vicar thinks I am utterly incompetent? What if I fail my interview with the Bishop? What if, what if, what if? When does the roller coaster ride ever finish? Does it ever finish?

As I get to the top of the hill I can look down into the valley and many hundreds if not thousands of gravestones can be seen. It is a sad picture but has a real essence of beauty about it, so many lives, so many deaths, so many stories, and so many tears over so many years. And as I look at the tombstones I read about lost children, parents, brothers and sisters. Flowers are plentiful and great attention is paid to the little piece of ground where loved ones are laid to rest. Large mounds of earth with beautiful tributes and mementoes lay on freshly dug soil and I am reminded about the fragility of our existence and limited time on this planet.

I leave the stillness of the cemetery grounds to the rumbling noise of the busy road for the short stroll down to my house. I am shaken out of my meditation and reflection of what has passed before me and what lies ahead. The mind is alive, the will is strong, the reality is difficult and the future is nerve wracking.

As I approach my front door, I l think about the words I have heard a lot over the last few days I keep hearing, John 15:16 ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit--fruit that will last’.That encourages me, and troubles me, it excites me and frightens me, and I suspect I am not alone in feeling this among the ordinand community being ordained in just a few weeks’ time. Please pray for us all.

May God be with them, with me and with you, now and always.

See you,

Alextheanglican.

A FREE MAN

A FREE MAN

Well hello,

                 It has been all of eleven day since I left the world of retail and became a free man, or so I thought. Simple daily tasks like, washing, ironing, letting the guinea pigs out, cutting the lawn, finding the start button on the vacuum cleaner, and preparing meals all now feels under my remit! Not that the good lady has insisted I  have happily taken on these responsibilities as  I kind of feel obligated as I enjoy my sabbatical from working life for the next month or so.Whilst Sarah continues working and the children return to studies I like to think of myself as a gentleman between jobs whilst the family keep referring to me as unemployed and sponging off Mother!

So whilst I am ‘resting’ I have started to enjoy my new surroundings with a little less stress now that shop keeping is no longer my profession. I was so relaxed a day or two ago that I found myself announcing to my family that next year I would be entering Britain’s Got Talent performing the fine art of contemporary dance. As I demonstrated a few moves in my dressing gown and pyjamas I gracefully pranced around the lounge at our new home, the children told me sit down and be quiet I did what I was told although I thought that was what I was meant to tell them!

I have discovered a few local walks and the woods around the corner from t’vicarage would be lovely if it wasn’t for the incredible variety of dog excrement that makes the muddy corridor to natures wonderful creations high risk. I need a keen eye and the navigational skills of S.A.S proportions are required. During my early morning walks I pass through a moss infused pathway and wave good morning to a neighbour whose dog barks at me aggressively on a daily basis which causes me to consider a re-route and sympathize at the noise which disturbs the sleepy neighbourhood which is yet to awaken!

We don’t really have direct neighbours due to the location of the house so my friendly instincts have only extended, to the lady at the garage where I get my loaf and bread for two pounds. Also the occasional hello with the local undertaker who un-unnervingly stopped his funeral procession to briefly say hello the other day was thoughtful. There is a man who runs a flower van at the gate of the crematorium, Its bit like a mobile butty shop only with flowers, his rotund body contorts as he leans against his workplace waiting for visitors to hand over money for daffodils and tulips and other flowery things before entering their loved ones places of rest. He looked at me enthusiastically as a potential customer initially and now as I pass him daily on the way to the garage he looks at me with nonchalance and distain. I offer a friendly hello which on a rare occasion I get a muted response but nothing to suggest we will become great friends over the coming years!

Down on one of the lanes my naivety was soon broken when I thought the Mr Kipling silver cupcake holders were purely the laziness of the local’s failure to dispose of their 'picnic' rubbish considerately, I now of course realize its rather more sinister than this as silver foil indeed litters much of the walkway. In the dead of night presumably the walkway becomes a den of iniquity for those who like to administer themselves with narcotics slightly more dangerous and addictive than Omega 3. The stroll down to the cemetery also makes me think about death and resurrection, on one side, the view is of endless gravestones and gardens and remembrance. On the other drug fuelled paraphernalia, silver foils and a large squashed bird of some description that has been so compressed into the tarmac it has no distinguishable features other than it used to fly. Did that flight of fancy make to heaven or not I wonder?

I am using my free time wisely I have watched Jeremy Kyle help the helpless assuming it is only a matter of time before he also raises the dead. I watched in awe and wonder as a man on ITV cooked some Asparagus in butter, I have ironed my socks in preparation for the big day, and I have been reading the autobiography of Bear Grylls, a man similar to myself, physically perfect, highly mobile, king of adventure and a devout Christian! I forgot how nice it is to read books of a non-theological nature. As I lied in the bath contentedly reading Bear the water had cooled enough that my blood red skin had returned to a safe enough temperature that my life was no longer at risk, I haven’t done that for ages.

I even watched a film with my daughter, it was a tense, intellectual thriller entitled Pudsey the dog, sadly I lost the will to live after sixty minutes and after falling in and out of a comatose state even my daughter agreed it was a little tedious.

The next week is very busy, I have to go to the library, I need a ‘new’ part worn tire for my driver’s side, and I need to post a letter! Seriously I am rather busy, a trip to Salford, a trip to Ambleside, then to Anglesey and then to Mirfield all in the next seven days are things I am looking forward to, I told you I was like Bear Grylls!

Beyond that is the big day, Ordination on the 4^th July, but for now I am trying to put that to the back of mind and focus on the here and now. I unpacked the clergy shirts and gave them the once over with the Morphy Richards hotplate and as I ironed I thought, Me a Clergyman, you having a laugh? I seem to have more white clergy collars than St Paul’s Cathedral, if you need one let me know!!

Work is still in the mind as I weirdly expect to be called into an Argos meeting or something to pick up where I left off but deep down I know that is not going to happen. Do I miss the world of retail? Not yet! It is nice waking up in a morning not needing to rush, to take time with prayers and to enjoy a bit of ‘me' time. I am feeling very content at the moment and truly blessed reflecting with pride and affection on what has passed before me. I can’t wait to begin work as Fr Alex, and as the diary starts filling with tasks of a church nature so does the realization that ordained life is just around the corner. 

In Bears’ book he writes a lot about achievement, he has a really great story to tell and I highly recommend his book, but whilst we really are nothing alike I found a shared faith and a moment he reflected upon rather inspiring. Grylls broke his back in a failed parachute landing not long after successfully passing out as an SAS soldier and he subsequently left the elite forces due to his injuries.   Despite this his determination to make the most of his life was driven by an incredible self-will to achieve his goalsand whilst I haven’t climbed Everest or parachuted out of a helicopter, I haven’t wrestled with dangerous creatures or jumped of cliff tops, I have pushed myself physically and mentally to get this far. Both myself and the man of mud, sweat and tears have a common denominator and that is faith. He writes, ‘My Christian faith says that I have nothing to fear or worry about. All is well’. At this moment in time I couldn’t disagree with him in the slightest!

Till next time,

Peace brothers and sisters

Alextheanglican!