Linda Lusardi and a Ferrari

Hello,

        It's not easy to forgive is it? When someone had done you wrong, when someone has stabbed you in the back, when someone has taken advantage of you, when someone has left you feeling upset, when someone had diddled you, when someone has cheated on you, or any other, 'when someone' has left you feeling badly let down and frustrated.

About four years ago a strangely familiar man was shopping in my place of work in Blackburn and as our eyes met he quickly engaged in conversation. "Frostie", he said. I wasn't sure for a moment who he was, "Urgh hi", I replied hoping he would spill the beans and remind me who he was. I didn't have to wait long to find out.

"I'll never forgive you Frostie for what you did to me", he said in a slightly comical yet serious manner.

The penny dropped rapidly, I knew full well who is was and why he may still not have forgiven me over twenty years after the event took place.

In my late teens I worked for a now defunct electrical business in Padiham a small town in East Lancashire, we served the local community with rental televisions and video recorders and much of my time would be spent visiting customers’ homes and emptying meters that customers fed with 50ps to ensure they met their rental payment commitments and it was my job to maintain and service these appliances.

PADIHAM

 Within our small workforce of just five people were, myself, the shop manager/engineer who was on his day off, a clerk named Mary, the service technician called Nigel also on his day off and another teenage assistant who for the purpose of this blog will be known as Paul. 

Paul was a confident, slightly cocky, handsome young man who had an eye for the ladies and had self-belief in abundance. After a period of time I became more and more frustrated with his 'style' and he struck me as the type of character who's arrogance needed putting in place!

One particular morning, Paul came to work full of beans and his usual swagger was in full bloom, and he informed us all that he had entered a telephone competition in the Daily Mail using the shops contact details to win a Ferrari. Paul was feeling very confident this would be his lucky day and the supercar was destined to be his!

As I checked the morning jobs book, and planning my meter emptying route, he went on and on and on and on, until Mary sent him packing to make our morning cup of tea. Myself and Mary agreed he was becoming a bit tedious with all this 'Ferrari' talk. This was when I had an idea to cut him down to size, and after sharing my idea with the 'mature' Mary, she just about agreed to go along with my master plan!

 

A RED CAR

An hour or so passed, and I decided to set off on my route convincing Paul to stay in the shop and help Mary with some jobs and so left the retail establishment alone. 

After a few house calls and as this was before the concept of mobile phones I found one of those unique buildings affectionately known as a red phone box. I rang the shop and Mary answered, "It's me Mary, tell Paul there is a call for him and it’s David from the Daily Mail". Mary went along with it, as I heard her very seriously call Paul over to the phone, calmly explaining to Paul who was on the line for him. "Hello", he said. "Yes hello I replied, is that Paul"? Paul confirmed it was. "Oh good", I said in a very effective cockney accent that I had acquired after many hours of practicing the various accents of the British Isles. I continued, "Yeah my name is Dave, from the Daily Mail, am I right in understanding you have entered our competition to win a Ferrari"? 

Paul response was very unsure he used a number of expletives, culminating in the suggestion, "Frostie, is that you"? I thought I had been rumbled back just about managed to keep my composure and carry on with the spoof. "Sorry I have no idea who Frostie is, my name is Dave from the Daily Mail and I am ringing to inform you that you have won our Ferrari and we want to travel to the North this afternoon to make the presentation". I had him hook line and sinker, he voice trembled with excitement, I heard him address Mary, " Mary, Mary, I've won the car, I've won the car, they want to come up this afternoon". Mary went along with things and  managed to hold it together. The call continued, "Yes Paul, you have won the car, is it okay to come to your work this afternoon"? Paul asked for permission for the Daily Mail to come to Padiham with a Ferrari that very afternoon. In the managers absence Mary reluctantly agreed. Paul excitedly confirmed that would be okay. I continued, "Just one other thing, we have arranged that Linda Lusardi would be travelling with us to make the presentation". Linda Lusardi was a page three ‘stunner’ and I told Paul it was for the press shots the following morning and the team would be there for about 4pm. I left a very excited Paul, full in the belief he would be travelling home that evening in his brand new state of the art automobile.

LINDA LUSARDI

I continued my jobs and arrived back at work sometime around midday, I was met with an overwhelmed and trembling work colleague bursting to tell me that he had won the car and Linda Lusardi was en route to Padiham to present him with the keys He also informed me he had made calls to friends and family who would be at the shop to watch the big event with their very own eyes. I kept a quiet counsel slightly concerned in the knowledge, that Linda Lusardi was about as close to Padiham as I was to the moon. 

As the afternoon progressed Paul’s excitement increased, as did my anxiety, I couldn't let this run it's full course, could I?  At about 3pm after much discussion with Mary I concluded the 'joke' needed to stop. This was not going to be easy. "Paul, have you got a minute"? As I led him to a quiet corner. "Yeah what's up"? He replied. Here we go I thought. "Erm the car, the er Ferrari". Paul replied, "Yeah what about it"? Here we go I thought again, "Erm, you haven’t won it". Sadly it didn't register on the first attempt, Paul strongly disagreed and almost convinced me he had actually won the car and it was I that was sadly mistaken. "No Paul, you haven't it was me". He still didn't believe and it was only when I entered into the character of Dave from the Daily Mail did the crushing realization hit him that it was a set up and he was the butt of a rather extravagant but humorous setup. 

Paul was not happy, what would his family say as his hastily made the calls to cancel the celebrations, a slight whiff of tension and violence was in the air as Mary sent me on last minute call out with strict instructions not to come back to work until the dust settled. 

Paul left the business, as did I not long after the event and our paths did not cross again until many, many years later. 

Although no physical hurt had occurred, and whilst it is was indeed a comical event, Paul will never forget that day as he so vividly reminded me just a few years ago.  Does he forgive me? I don't know, I hope he saw it as a practical joke and nothing more, but our actions can often leave a scar, a hurt, a memory that lingers like a bad smell for years and years and probably forever. There are events in my life where I have felt wronged, hurt and damaged. Forgiveness is very hard, and I mean very hard, but as a Christian that is my duty, I forgive others the mistakes they make, and I ask for forgiveness for the frequent times I badly cock things up.

 

To forgive and to be forgiven is the message, in the name of Christ.

See ya!

Alextheanglican.

    

Summer

Summer

Ah the aroma of summer is in the air, cut grass, barbecues, flowers and sweat. It really is a key time of year that one should choose carefully an adequate and suitable deodorant to ‘keep it all in!

Primary school was always a key aspect of my favorite season of the year, Would the sign be green? Allowing us little ones the permission to be the first to charge onto the school field and play army or some other game of warfare like kisschase or tig! I wasn’t too fond of kisschase but enthusiastically participated in army and I can still make a credible impression of a machine gun to this very day.

I rather enjoyed making daisy chains but got considerable chastisement from ‘the lads’ as it was a female pastime and to participate in such feminine entertainment was an experience I never fully indulged in, so army it was, and it was incredible what healing powers confectionary such as Refreshers, Tabs and Tic Tacs could have after being shot down by an imaginary Ak47 assualt weapon. By taking on board a ‘sugar kick’ it miraculously brought one back to life and gained a return to the battlefield until the dinner lady called you in for your turn at the dinner table.

As I had and still do a deep love of the delicately iced Chelsea bun I have mixed feeling about the dining area at primary school particularly in summer, the gestapo led supervision by those overlooking mealtimes did so we sniper like accuracy and could spot a left ‘blade’ of white cabbage at a 100 hundred yards and would strike with devastating effects if you attempted to conceal it under ones knife and fork or attempt to stick it to the underside of the table. The consequences could be devastating! The schedule for meals was intense and hard hitting, braised steak with mulched vegetables affected by a dessert of white custard and a sponge of some description was not for the faint hearted and difficult to swallow and if it wasn’t for my skill and anticipation to time my runs to the slops bin I swear I would still be sat there now whilst ‘mine fuhrer’  dinner lady watched over me as I wretched on a brussell sprout that had been burnt to a miniscule of its original purpose in life and just wouldn’t go down!

Somehow I made it back to the school field where the adolescents would be ‘playing’ in the long grass, a game of ‘you show me yours and I will show you mine’. I never went for that one and took refuge in a one man game of ‘roly poly’. I recall spending many afternoon classes covered in cut grass with a stench of creosote from where I had rolled so far down the field I went right through the rounders triangle and into the long grass where the infantile genitalia was being displayed and compared!

Afternoons were meant for studying, but I spent many a Summer pm gazing out of the window watching the ‘corporation’ cut the grass. I wanted to do that job and was alway intrigued by the big blades and the smell of workmen! Summers always seemed to be hot then, I spent endless hours leaning back on my chair, using the long suffering and dirty curtains as my support, occasionally the chair lost it balance and I would crash to the floor to hails of laughter and much embarrassment as another curtain ring pinged out of its intended location. The water fountain in the boys toilets was woefully inadequate and  as I crouched to get some refreshment and fluid on board to get me through to hometime, the dribble from the tap did nothing much more than dampen my shirt collar and wet my chin.

Yes Summer at school was both fun and frustrating, if it wasn’t  100 degrees the field was always out of bounds and coats were always to be worn in case of rain and the yard we frequented was both dangerous and incredibly tedious which the big boys controlled in dreadfully violent games of football and army sometimes at the same time!

Summer these days are different, I watch rather than participate in sports days, I observe my children playing, I supervise my wifes intake of wine or cider, I cut the grass, I walk the dog, I look out upon the countryside, and I make the tea. We have the BBQ on standby for the slightest hint of summer,  We cook our ‘local’ produce badly, its either parched to the point of being unidentifiable,  Am I eating a chicken breast or a deceased sausage from Iceland? I neither know nor care, alternately my consumed chicken leg is dripping blood and still quivering and has placed my entire family at high risk of contracting salmonella or a dreadful dose of the shits, all in the name of embracing a Lancashire summer!

Our garden is a festival of Summer,it’s like Glastonbury without the drugs, we have a badly worn trampoline, that probably irritates the neighbours, we have a gazebo, a swinging deck chair, we have a bird bath with no water, we have a solar powered water feature which drips at similar ratio to the primary school water a fountain, we have floodlights that  come on at four in the morning,  we have a washing line with an impressive array of family linen and underwear, we have a wonky shed full of garden tools we don’t use, we have a orange bistro set for the incredibly rare evenings where my wife and I can sit out with a romantic glass of red wine and watch the sun go down over my Asda ‘Y’ fronts and my wifes slightly faded knickers! We have a gnome, a pen for the large mice otherwise known as guinea pigs, we have an old toilet converted into a ‘garden feature’ we have a ornamental cat and numerous other bits and bobs that bring our garden to life. Not bad considering our garden is is only 12ft by 12ft!

Yes summer is very different these days but the recent warm weather has reminded me how joyful summer was and still is. Listening to my children playing, bouncing, shouting and being generally annoying  is a reminder of my own childhood and how much I love the Summer months. The buzz of lawnmowers, the sound of aircraft and the whiff of a burning quarter pounder, the racket of a water fight and the aroma of flowers is enough to make one put on the speedos and flip flops and indulge in the pleasures that the sunshine brings.

God gave us the seasons he gave us each other, he gives us the sun and he he gives us the rain. Whatever he gives is let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Till next time

May peace be with you all

Alex the anglican

 

Do you like melons ?

Well hello,
             I must say  life as an Ordinand is not your normal kettle of fish, commiting to a regular cycle of prayer and reflection is not all that easy, especially as what I consider my study,  resembles more of  a Sylvanian Family retreat centre. As I tip toe through the plastic city carefully trying to avoid crushing a Sylvanian charactor on my way to my chair I often reflect is this what a trainee vicars study should look like?

"Do you not like any melons Alex?" came the question from  the colleague on my left  as my fellow trainee Clerics enjoyed thier starter at our  recent study weekend in the Lake District. A dramatic pause followed as I looked across the table at one of my friends who has a distinction in hairdressing who nearly choked on the pips of her honeydew melon. "Well, I replied, there's a couple of melons I did like but they weren't with me at Theological college!

I suppose the purpose of this blog is to convey the message that in my short experience as a man following Jesus there is an awful lot of humor within the church and I must indeed say thank God for that!
The process for selection to train for Ordained Ministry is a rather long and difficult one and it would probably be easier to tell you the criteria you didn't need to fulfill to commence training within the Church of England but needless to say you are assessed considerably and if your choice of underwear is slightly controversial it may even be suggested that God is calling you to something else!

Once you have fulfilled the set criteria in your local diocese you are sent off to what is know in Church circles as a BAP which stands for Bishops Advisory Panel. I was sent to a delightful rural setting called Shallowford House which is in Staffordshire and I can assure you it is beautiful but also a most unusaul and surreal experience. It is a little bit like Britains Got Talent or X factor for perspective Vicars only with no buzzers and slightly more intense. The panel is over a couple of days and learned people, usually a Bishop, a Vicar and a lay person grill you on all things from lifestyle, to charactor, education to faith but during the weekend all the candidates of which there may be up to twenty or so, are invited to talk for around seven minutes to the group on a Christian subject and then facilitate a discussion on your chosen subject.

I have had the pleasure or frustration, i'm not sure which of having to attend a BAP twice as on my first attempt, I wasn't succesful or as the Church described 'not ready' and on reflection I wonder if the following little tale had a part to play in me not 'being ready'.

I spent many hours prior to BAP considering my topic and felt it would be good to go with a meaty and dense subject to arouse some heated debate and good discussion.

In my group there were only nine candidates and to determine who went first, we drew playing cards and the good Lord decided I would draw the eight of spades and be the penultimate one to present to the group.
I felt quite calm and relatively confident as I took my place in the horseshoe arrangement of chairs and wanted to make sure I made a valuable contribution to the heated discussions that awaited.
Off we went and the conversations were jovial and enthusiastic but I was slightly aware that the content from my peers was quite gentle and very considerate. We discussed ways to worship, contemplative prayers and I think the most controversial it got was wether the group considered it a good proposal to remove a bell from the decaying bell tower because the cost to keep it ringing would place a significant stretch on Church resources.
And so it was my turn, to present my allocated seven minutes to  my fellow candidates.
It went something like this,
'Ladies and gentlemen, today I want to talk to you about the demonisation of homosexuals in Uganda and the utter intloerance of the Ugandan government who are considering a motion to penalise actively gay people with the death penalty'. I also want to discuss with you my fundamental oposition to those opposing the Ordination of women within the Anglican community".

All in seven minutes!

Well I felt I presented quite confidently, with clear concise points and was sure it would arouse some thoughtful reflection and stimulating debate from the group. I took my seat and asked, 'Are there any questions?'  I was met with a wall of silence! It was like that Xfactor moment when the comedian delivered the first punchline and the audience sit motionless and very, very still.
After what seemed an eternity someone offered a brief response and it was like pulling teeth in trying to get people to enter the controversy for fear of putting 'foot in mouth'. The Assessors around the room remained expressionless and I feared the worse, but that was only to follow.

The last person to present to group chose the politically charged and highly emotive subject of Children groups, and delighted in telling us the successes that had been achieved in her Church and wanted to hear from the candidates some of our success stories. It was at this point that I believe it was probably decided I was, 'not ready' to proceed to training. Feeling I needed to redeem myself somewhat I offered up my experience of Kids ministry in my home Church. At the time the Church had a teenage group called the H H H club, that's the H H H club, so that is the H H H club, got it?
My mind at this point had gone wondering and I was a bit all over the place and began wittering about our organisation back in Lancashire.

It went something like this,
'At our Church we have a fantastic teenage group that we call the K K K club, and it just great'. I was interupted, 'Sorry did you say the K K K club?' My response was, Yes, the K K K club'. To which I was asked, 'You have a club, named the K K K club? 'Yes I insisted, the K K K club'.

It was only conclusion of the presentation when I retreated to my room with my cup of green tea, which I have never drunk before or since did I reflect on the repetitive questioning of our highly successful K K K club!
'No, no, no, no, no, no what have I done? It's not the K K K club its the H H H club, no, no, no. no. no!
Oh my God !!!!!!!!!!! I have just told a panel of esteemed people and fellow candidates that our church has a youth group with the same abrievated initials as the radical right wing bunch of Nazi rascists the Klu Klux Klan. That was a slip of the tongue I coundn't retract. I considered talking to the Bishop or Panel secretary, but thought what if they didn't notice, could I only be making matters worse?
It was awful just awful, I had no sleep and I needed a minor miracle to get me out of this pickle, I struggled to focus for the remainder of the Panel.

When I was informed I wasn't being put forward, I was totally devastated, but for some strange reason among all the madness of the story above they asked me to come back the following year when in reality they could have scalded me and told me never to cross the doors of Shallowford house again.
But they didn't and the following year, my subject was a lot less gentle, as I talked about my favorite Psalm, which is incidentally Psalm 55 and was signifcantly less controversial than homosexuality in Africa and women and the Priesthood.
I steered well clear of Childrens ministry, and kept a quite counsell if things got a little intense.

In hindsight I can see the humor in this blog, but I can tell you it was one of the most painfull setback I have encountered in fact it WAS the most painful setback I have ever encountered, but on reflection I wouldn't have it any other way.
I am generally a very impulsive and impatient person and even now if I was offered the opportunity to be Ordained tomorrow I would take it, but that would be me doing what I wanted and not what God desired. I have come to the conclusion that some things must be left in his hands, and this is one of them. And so by his desire and by his grace my Ordination will be in 2015, and that is just fine. The setback has enabled me to meet some very interesting people and I have been placed  in wonderful environmnents. I have blossoming friendships with my fellow Ordinands some of which I suspect may last for a long, long time, sometimes things just happen because that's how its meant to be.

In between commencing and concluding this blog, I dropped my son and his buddies off at skate park in Blackpool, I drove up to the promenade  and parked the car. With my dog Fletcher at myside we walked up the beach to St Annes on sea, and as I tired I contemplated turning round and walking back to Blackpool, however just a few more steps led to me to a small floral garden where I noticed a Bronze statue, I approached the statue and discovered it was of my great comedy hero, the wonderful Les Dawson. A simple plaque laid at his feet and I smiled greatly. Les Dawson always made me smile, in his life and in his death. He taught me the value of laughing, and crying and laughing again and again.

Sometimes it's just meant to be.

Love to you all,
Alextheanglican.

Living with Academia.

Hello,
        I recall that as young as six or seven I wasn't at school just to play with sand and draw pictures but I was there to learn 'stuff' and get an education. At my junior school in year two as it was then our firm but fair teacher Mrs Penrose would call children forward to recite times tables and I distinctly remember either hiding behind the book trolley or disappearing to the toilet to avoid confrontation with sums and Mrs Penrose.

A book Trolley

 I often found my self gazing out onto the school field and enjoyed greatly watching the Councils oversized lawn mower prepare the turf for the warmer weather. I missed many an educational moment as I watched the white lines be repainted on the school yard and found it fascinating to watch grass grow over the early years living with Academia.
As I got slightly older and went into the Juniors I was carted away by a nice old lady who took me to the staff room for some one to one 'training'. She was so patient with me as I never got it, or showed any desire to do so eithier. It just wasn't happening! I wasn't thick I just wasn't interested I saw no purpose to education  and in my mind I was there for socializing and lunch.

It really didn't get much better at High School, in fact it got worse and worse, I had an intense dislike for a teacher who would purposely detain me after school so I would miss my bus home. So I took things into my own hands and decided to have 32 consecutive Wenesdays off which resulted in the involvement of school inspectors and a threatening wooden spoon from my mother. In the end of year Maths test I hit an all time low when I hit the rock bottom with a result of just 17% it was not great. However I remained optimistic and carried on entertaining my class mates with my gentle humor and jolly disposition. When it came to the end of year I proved a bit of a puzzle to the school as I was placed in the bottom set for Maths but the 2nd set for English. It was one of the few subjects I enjoyed and did okay in. We studied the book Kes and I remeber loving the language, mixing great humour with poverty and pain.

                                                                       
                                                                            KES

As the years went by the school reports got worse and the days were tediously long and incredibly uninspiring. In year four of high school I entered myself for the O level typewriting course. This was due to being given an old typewriter by my dear Granny and I would spend endless hours writing, made up football match reports and at home on a Saturday afternoons I frequently pretended to be one of the journalists sat behind the legendary Dickie Davies on World of Sport and would write made up sport reports for the great man.

Dickie Davies with me behind at the desk in shirt and tie !!!!

The typewriting course was heavily oversubscribed because in those days many girls saw the future in administration and for some reason the desire for hair services, tanning and beauty products was significantly less than it is now. So an entrance exam was arranged in the dining hall and I was late to arrive (as usual) to a room full of girls, and me! I was there because of my Grannys typewriter and my imaginary role as ITVs leading sports journalist. I did the test and for the first time in my education I passed and was in!
Sadly that is where the success story ends as placing me in a class of 30 girls and a typewriter was not a academic match made in heaven, but it was a great environment for big, big laughs and discovering the opposite sex!

State of the art word Proccessor

I left the academic world at age fifteen and began the long journey to retail maangement, delivering fridges and all things electrical for Currys and then a forray into Independant retailing for some considerable time, I took a sabatical for a short period and entered the world of Classified advertising. I was responsible for filling  the situations vacant pages in the local free paper and excelled in persuading employers to advertise the job vacancies with the local rag. It didn't last long I got bored and so back to Independant retailing, that was until I took up the role of Sweet Rep selling crisps, confectionary and Pop to businesess across Lancashire. It didn't go well, I spent far too much time getting lost in Lytham and Poulton le Fylde than I did selling sweets and gave it up as a bad job after just a few months.
I did have a very brief forray back into higher education as myself and my good lady took up Spanish lessons at night college, we went twice and concluded time would be better spent playing scrabble and going to Bingo!

Poulton le Fylde

Twelve years ago Argos become my career and has provided me and my family with a lovely home and nice holidays I am very proud of my occupation but when the good Lord called me to explore Ordination training you wont be surprised if I said I was looking for a route that maybe avoided study and learning!
Well that wasn't to be and so enrolled on a church study group called Called to Serve, where I had to listen and learn and read and write! This was new ground for me, but I just about scraped through.

Today as very youthful 43 year old man I am now studying at degree level. I do all the things in the above paragraph, I listen intently as I don't want to miss anything, I write as well as I can but frequently get into a bit of mischief for my 'Prose' but I can live with that. I read books by people with lots of letters after thier names and and can recall famous theologians at will (well almost) I am slowly but surely begining to understand The Bible.

So the message? well I am not sure really but God certainly works in mysterious ways. Until three or four years ago did I ever think I would be training to be Ordained as a man of the cloth. But I suppose there is something about letting go and giving it over to Christ. The above may sound mildy amusing but trust me I have had more chips on my shoulder about education than a Harry Ramsdens deep fat fryer. But now I have brushed them off, secure in the knowledge that by allowing Gods will to happen, I will pass this time of training comfortable in my strengths and honest about my weaknesses and relaxed amongst my academic friends who are following their calling by God just as I am. It also teaches me that setbacks, difficulties can always be overcome if we allow and want it to happen. I trust God to get me through this and by his grace I can be a good example to others who have struggled to live with academia.
Till next time,
God Bless.
Alex the anglican.
  

Faith Healer

Hello one and all,
                                          I have spent much of my life intrigued by minor illness and injury, when I was a boy I was very much in awe of children with verucca socks to the extent that I can't be sure if I was being a little extreme  to paddle in the warm smelly drainage areas of the male changing rooms, particularly the common drain where men rung out Speedos and where body hair gathered, all in the hope that I may acquire a rubber sock to put over my ankle.

A Verucca sock

There was also a boy in our class who suffered from asthma and had an inhaler that I took a particular shine to, and when I asked what I needed to get one, he simply replied 'asthma'. I told my parents I thought I might have asthma, but they were unmoved as I represented the primary school in the district cross country championships!

All I ever wanted

Whilst at primary school a young boy who I was friends with had trouble passing water,  and I don't mean going over hump back bridges, and the trouble caused him so much pain it resulted in the poor child being circumcised, he took great pride in sharing his newly designed genitalia to his friends and whilst intrigued I chose not to ask what needed to occur to acquire one of those!
Some years later at High school a  boy who shall remain nameless for obvious reasons caught his manhood in his zip and turned his underpants red, his reward was a couple of stitches and a local anasthaetic in his nether regions  which I can only imagine must have been a rather traumatic  and a painful experience.
My first foray into the A & E department came at the modest age of of 15, I got into a scrape with a 'close' friend who chased me around the avenue with a pool cue and a angry expression.
I was unclear what I was guilty of to warrant such a chase, but in defending myself had my one and only very brief punch up of my 43 years on this planet. I caught him sweetly with a flapping left swing of the arm which resulted in him falling to the ground in what I would describe as a lucky punch! My hand swelled to some proportion and it was only on the insistence of my Grandma that I allowed her take me to Burnley General in her sporty Fiat 127.

A Sporty Fiat 127

I was delighted when the Doctor told me I had fractured my hand and my minor injury would require plaster, how exciting!
My next significant minor injury came as my career as footy ref starting going places, I was officiating at a under 13s' footy match when I just couln't carry on, the pain was just too much. After many months trying to take responsibility for my personal treatment of an in growing toenail I gave up I could know longer bear the constant battle with a nail that grew the wrong way, I could know longer battle with my toe and the medical tool kit of my mothers needlework scissors and a plaster!

As Painful as they look !

As I have got older and become a parent, I continued to be intrigued and aware of minor ailments and  have spent more than enough time tending to minor grazes, trips, and tearful expressions of hurt.
However as I have got older I have not only become more aware of the little slips and trips but increasingly more and more aware of more serious illness. One of the sad things about getting older is that quite a number of people I knew as a young person have sadly passed away. Sometimes suddenly and sometimes after a period of suffering, both mentally and physically. As a boy contemplating a minor ailment was nothing more than a few moments of nothingness really but when it gets serious, when someones life is at risk it takes things to another level. I suppose through maturity, experience, and study my considerations of illness and suffering have changed since childhood.
I certainly see death in significantly different way than I did, say ten years ago. I took 'life' for granted, and thought all my loved ones would go on forever. I'm still endeared to the romantic notion that this is possible, but reality tells me its is not possible. And so I think about dying in a different context. I am sure not all would agree, but I have great faith that when we die, we don't actually die! I accept our physical bodies die, but I firmly believe we go on to heaven. I don't what happens there, but I look forward to finding out although by Gods grace not for some time yet.
I am often intrigued why people leave flowers annually at landmarks where tragic accidents have happened. I wonder if the bereaved believe the deceased will be proud that ones death has been recognized with flowers in memorial. It also raises questions about funeral or cremation, I wonder if burials occur just in case, it could all be reversed by the act of a miracle. I have many questions and thoughts like this, but I suppose the point of this blog is one of healing.
All those minor illnesses have healed long ago, the aches and pains, cuts and sprains have dispersed. With the more serious problems which have resulted in friends and family dying the trauma and upset is monumental but the reality is we go on.  Somehow we heal, we don't always recover completely and many may argue against me, but we do heal, ever so slowly.
As a Christian I get strength from my faith particularly in times of difficulty, I really think that when we are in a bit of a mess, something very real is slowly but surely putting us back together again if that is what we so choose but it poses the question, Well what if your not mentally tough enough do deal with all that ? And I would simply reply, 'He' provides, if you want his help.
The Bible tells us in the book of Mathew, that he will provide and therefore I leave you with that verse, reminding you and offering you the help of the Lord Jesus Christ if your at some point in your life the burden becomes to heavy.
In Christ  with you all.
Alex

All things are delivered unto me of my Father: and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.

²⁸ Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

²⁹ Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

³⁰ For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

God loves an Atheist

Hello again,
                 I can't deny that life as a Christian is pretty full on, study, worship and prayer take up quite a large part of my daily and weekly life, I can't begin to explain the hours and hours I spend contemplating my faith and future life as a Priest in the Church of England. One of the many of the things I have learnt over the last few years is how people respond to my vocation. I would describe it as a calling from God, as would many faithful Christians however I am sure some people may accuse me of  just wanting to add another extreme to my adventurous trawl through life. Many people think it quite incredible that I get through the first 37 years of my life, displaying no real hunger or desire for faith, and then suddenly find the love of Jesus and become nothing short of a religious nut case to the point of following the path to wearing a long black dress and rather large crucifix. Others, namely atheists have very eloquently described it as 'A load of bollocks' and enjoyed greatly taking the mickey out of me and ridiculing my belief offering up nothing short of insults and generally being offensive.

This is not always the case, occasionally someone wants to actually get into a debate, about the existence of God, and do so in a respectful and thoughtful way. I try and engage likewise.

But this is not really a blog about criticizing atheists or debating the matter, more a blog of following the teaching of Jesus, when he said, 'Love thy neighbour as thyself, there is no other commandment greater than this'. However  it is rather difficult to love someone that is so strongly against the thing that you believe in the most.

I also very much see why Atheists are Atheists.  Matters such as, was the world  made in seven days? Noah and his Arc and all them animals, The Virgin Birth and people living to long and rather unbelievable ages, and so on. I understand all that, but through learning and understanding I realize these matters are not as simple as Atheists would like to make them. Okay some honest questions, Do I believe the world was made in seven days?  Answer No !
Does that make me an Atheist?
 Answer No !
Do I believe Jesus was the Son of God?
Answer, Yes!
Does that make me a Christian?
Answer No!

I quite like the irony of the above advertisement, but more importantly, I find the Atheist argument that it's all scientific, one of the most profound reinforcements of my Faith. So we have existed for thousands and thousands of years, And our world has developed scientifically beyond all imagination, and still the the proof of how we came to be does not exist just as Atheists would argue the proof of God also has not been proved and therefore doesn't exist.

But I build my faith on experience, understanding, reading, and watching the world.
I understand that The Bible warns of persecution, I read the the deep, dry, denseness of the Bible and I am confused, I read the stories of miracles and I believe, Do Atheists not believe in miracles?
 I understand the teaching of Jesus, and I believe it, the value of love, the importance of morality, to try and do good things, although I fail frequently, but also to understand that when I do fail, It's okay.
By observing failed relationships, infidelity, children not experiencing the love of a parent, drug abuse, racism, debt, greed, materialism, cruelness of tongue, jealousy, anger to name just a few reminds of the alternate pathway to following Christianity.

I,m not saying Atheists are all these above, and I am not saying all Christians aren't all the above, but the following Jesus as the way and the truth, helps me more than I can ever express in one of my blogs.
The most powerful conversion of  St Paul is also an event that sustains me and keeps hopeful. Paul refuted Christ he simply did not believe, and then on the road to Damascus he converted he became a follower of Jesus and went on to be the most significant of all the early Christians. And his conversion convinces me that any single person who wants to find the love of Jesus Christ can. He will forgive you for all your sins, no matter how minor or significant that may be.

I do believe God loves Atheists, I am trying to love Atheists and if Jesus is for losers, than I am a loser !

May God kindle in us the fire of love.

                                                                  Alextheanglican.

The Fat Robin....

Hello to one and all,

                               I don't really remember as a child having quite the same zest for nature as I have acquired over the last ten years or so, My first recollection of the garden really only came when I buried my cheap leather football that was probably hand woven by a dreadfully underpaid worker in somewhere like Indonesia or Thailand, through the bottom right hand corner window pane of my parents treasured  and blossoming green house, which I recall made me slump to my knees in utter despair only to quickly  rise again and to run has far away from the crime scene as physically possible. 
I recall making with an old friend potions in his garage that we planned to force feed to his sisters and teachers who offended us for the most pathetic reasons imaginable, we gathered, leaves, slugs, dog poo, yes dog poo from his garden, and somehow poked into one of those 'pop' bottles that had a returnable value to the shopkeeper down the road! We would add to the ingredients pretty much anything we could find in his Dad's garage, so white spirit, out of date paint, nails, screws,petrol, wood stain and pretty much anything else we could find that would bring a long slow and painful death to his beloved sisters. Part of of plan was to let it mature like a single malt whiskey and so somehow that was always our get out clause for never carrying through our infantile plan for homicide!


My next recollection of nature was at the age of about ten. A trip to Whalley scout camp, with a large number of boys I didn't like and my first trip away from 'Mummy' and 'Daddy'. It was not a trip that holds too many happy memories. I knew a hike was planned the following morning and I was anxious about the large gaping hole in my Wellington boots that my parents had deviously chosen to do nothing about. That evening was one of sharing a tent with 5 or 6 flatulent boys, taking nonsense and occasionally flashing their genitals to our 'rival' campers in some sort of tribal war dance. It was only a matter of time before we were reprimanded for our bad behavior and I was humiliated the following evening by leading the camp in a rendition of Ging Gang Gooley Gooler Watcher! But before  the singing the hike was upon us and everybody was excited about wading through rivers, going up dale and down yonder, except for me of course. I broke down in tears as the prospect of a flooded wellie and a wet sock,  it was too much for my to contemplate and so was sent with an overweight boy, to go and do some modelling with marzipan, with a lady who we had to address as Auntie! I recall making dozens of fruit models and gorging with the 'fat kid' on marzipan until I 'oiked' all over Auntie who was surprisingly supportive.

I don't recall science or nature at all at primary school,  the best I can muster is playing marbles in the drains, playing roly poly on the hill and being convinced dandelions made me incontinent!

I recall a school trip to Malham, It rained and I didn't like it. My parents idea of exploring nature was to go for 'a run' in the car. They would find the most awful twisting country lanes, whilst my parents puffed on tobacco, with the windows up that made me feel sicker than a boy stuffing his face on marzipan, I would be absolutely at the point of spewing all over the vinyl seats in my Father's metallic blue, Austin Marina, when we we found a gap in the road where we would sit on unstable deckchairs whilst my mother deposited horse manure in the boot of the car that would 'Be wonderful for her roses'. We would stay much longer than necessary whilst my Dad had a kip, before we would eventually set off home finding the longest route possible. The only treat of the day would be to find a village store, that sold square ice creams!

Not wanting to trawl through every outdoor experience I shall move on, and slowly but surely as I go older I started to enjoy being outside more and more. It probably started with a trip to Mull on the West coast of Scotland, watching wild seals, deer, red squirrels really caught the imagination and on returning home, decided I needed to get out more and so I decided to get a dog. I named him Fletcher after Andy Fletcher from Depeche Mode!

More trips to Scotland followed and I promise you I have seen some of the most  stunning places  Britain has to offer, trust me we live on  a beautiful island!  In 2013 I took part in the three peaks challenge to raise funds for Teenage Cancer Trust, Along with some colleagues in just about 24 hours. we climbed Ben Nevis, Scarfell Pike and Mount Snowdon  It made me aware of what one could achieve with some hard work and dedication. It also made me think about the vastness of the space that we live in, how small are we in scheme of things?

Often people talk of mountains, and wide open space as being spiritual, and it is although I didn't experience it up some Britain's finest peaks. But I do love being out with my dog, Sometimes i feel like the pied piper as the crows follow me with my big bag of scraps as all food waste go straight to the hungry birds. I take great satisfaction that after me and the dog are on the return leg of our stroll, the scraps have all gone, and the Robin seems slightly fatter than the last time I saw it.
These day I go to Malham, it rains and I love it!
And among all that, I pray, I feel comfortable praying outside, alone, with the dog, the birds, with the occasional glimpse of the deer or a fox and most importantly with God. 

Doing what i,m doing, you will not be surprised that prayer has become an important part of daily life, Morning and Evening prayer is conducted in a very structured way and is lovely to know that you are praying alongside fellow Christians worshiping Jesus and giving thanks.
But individual private prayer among God's creation, alongside, the seasons, the lambs, the calves, the flowers, the rain, the wind, and the scenery is very cathartic and spiritual. Being disturbed by the occasional runner, isn't unbearable. I talk out loud, I think of the day ahead, or the day behind, I get things off my chest and pray for family and friends, colleagues and those I don't know. It is simply a space where I find time to be alone (pretty much) in thought and prayer with our savior Jesus Christ.

May I encourage you all to find time to be with God.
Be blessed, all of you.
Alextheanglican!