Rector's Ramblings

It just came to my notice today that Fr John Penman, once of this Diocese, and now Rector of Christchurch Falkirk, has been secretly blogging away for a while without telling anyone! (Thanks Mother Ruth for the info!) You can catch him on http://dougalthink.blogspot.com/

It's a good read!

Well, the evil deed was done this morning! I wasn't aware of how much hose could be put up the nose or where it could actually go! Do I have that much space in my head? (Answers may be edited) It seems he had a wee look down my throat, and my voicebox is just fine! I kind of knew this, anyway! The result? They're going to take me in to get a wee gromit fitted into my left ear! Sounds like fun!

Depression seems to be lifting. Yet again today I feel a bit brighter than I have of late. So, thank God for Pharmacology! Thank him too for all the love & support & kindness there is among my many friends, both online and in real time!

Here was me, thanking whatever for the sunshine, when thunder and hailstones start battering my windows! It made me remember my hospital appointment tomorrow. I'd been casually mentioning a deterioration in my hearing in my left ear to my GP, when, bam, I'm to go to the Vale tommorrow to get a camera up my nose to see what's lurking behind my left eardrum! Not a pleasant thought, but a superb talking point for everyone I'll be meeting over the next few days! Glory be! I'm still feeling positive! Just as well! I've got a brilliant wedding to conduct on Saturday. Really looking forward to it! Maybe I'll even hear the responses!

Maybe it is the sunny day, maybe it's because the increase in the anti-depressants is beginning to kick in, but this morning, thank God, I'm feeling much better. I've had a couple of false dawns already, so I'm not counting chickens, but it's so good to feel able and motivated to actually do something without forcing myself to! Still a bit tired, but I'll get there I'm sure! There is a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. For a whole two hours I've actually felt good about myself!

Below is a helpful wee diagram that has helped me understand what's been happening. Maybe it will help others understand a bit more. I think that clicking on the diagram, and then clicking again on the diagram, with a larger size, makes things a bit clearer!

Sometimes it takes the depths of human experience to make us realise how loved and supported we are. During this bout of depression, when my mood can oscillate from being almost suicidal to the heights of just feeling that I am a total fraud and one day somebody is going to find me out, has come the most wonderful messages of love, support, tenderness and understanding from many many people, some of whom don't have to care or give a monkey's what I'm up to or how I'm feeling! These messages, some here on my blog, some through personal emails, some in personal touches and hugs and words, are what have kept me sane and kept me going over the past few weeks.

The therapeutic value of writing things here has been of value too. Nobody has told me to give myself a shake, although I need to! Nobody has told me to count my blessings, although I need to! Mobody has told me how much of a lucky beggar I am to have such a beautiful and loving wife, although I have one! Judgement has been in short supply, and instead the most affirming and positive things have been communicated to me in so many ways.

Thank you, my friends for that. You are keeping me going until I, too, reach my Easter morning.

The Nils had three scored against us today. The only bright part of the afternoon was that this result plunged our bitter rivals Clyde into a relegation play-off. See, every cloud has a silver lining!

Forcing myself to go to see Partick Thistle Nil today, the last game of our season. We're up against a side who really need the points, whereas we don't! With Mallorca on their minds, will the Nils triumph? No! We don't have a prayer!

With much gratitude to Madpriest for this wee gem. It even made me break into a huge grin! -

From JACKPOT UK:

Getting young people to mass is probably the hardest thing the church has to do. In an effort to do just that, one Italian priest has decided to serve mass in a slot machine arcade.

"The idea came to me as the youth are estranged from the church. The young people choose another way of life, other places for meetings and communication. This can be discos or gambling halls where they are without their parents and feel themselves comfortable," said Don Duilio Testa from Trasacco.

Remarkably, it seemed to work. Teenagers stopped playing the games in the arcade and clambered to help the priest prepare for mass – some even volunteered to do some readings. "The holy mass was held in unusual silence and was heard with great attention," the priest said.

After chaining myself to my desk, and forcing myself to actually get things done, I managed to produce this month's effort by 10 o'clock last night. The feeling of actually accomplishing anything this week made me feel a little better. Reading it over this morning, the doom and gloom descended, and I was ready to start again! "No!", my soul cried... so the latest magazine is here. I've produced worse!

It's magazine week! That means the Parish Mag needs to be written, edited, printed, and sorted. Those of you who have seen the publication will know that it takes up a bit of time and needs a fair amount of dedication to get it right. Sometimes I wonder why I do it, because it becomes apparent through the month that lots of folk have never even bothered to read it! It's a bit like my sermons... I'm convinced that few people actually listen, and for those who do, it's like water off a duck's back. There's a few things going on in the parish just now which make me wonder if anyone has actually heard anything I've said over the past 6 years and more.

Back to the magazine, though, and the thought of writing anything in the "From Kenny" slot actually fills me with fear today. Firstly I don't have anything great to say, and what I do write, eventually, will probably reflect my negative frame of mind rather than being something positive and uplifting. I have the same fear about sermons too, at the moment.

Life is full of fear and dread just now, and those who have been in the pit of depression will know how that actually feels. Depressive thinking turns into feelings of hopelessness and anxiety, and that is a self perpetuating circle which is really hard to break out of.

So, I'll pray today, to a God whose very existence is doubted during these times, and hope that some sort of inspiration will come!

Here I am in the morning. How do I always seem to feel worse in the morning? And no shift in mood, not helped by the fact that the RW was the recipient of much of my frustration and anger about the depression thingy last night.

It's motivation sometimes in the mornings that's most difficult... motivating myself to get up, get washed, shaved and all the other things that normal people do with a laugh, a song, and an anticipation for all the day holds for them. I look on the day ahead with fear, and panic, and start inventing reasons why I don't need to do the things I need to do.

Wednesday is the day of Holy Communion in St Aug's, and a day that I normally look forward to. There are sometimes as many as 15 folk turn up for this wee oasis in the middle of their week, and I thank God today for our Liturgy. The structure and the words are always there, whatever and however I'm feeling. It doesn't require me to be positive, cheery or even inventive! It doesn't depend on how I am, mentally, spiritually, or physically. It's just there, and it still touches and blesses the people, in spite of the celebrant or his state of health!

There are other issues that need dealt with today, and I'm not looking forward to any of them. Bring me my duvet cover, Jeeves, and don't spare the horses!

The dreaded cloud still hangs over me, and a doctor's appointment today resulted in the anti-depressants being upped again. Dreadful feelings of worthlessness, inability to cope with the simplest things, and feelings of failure loom heavily over me. The rational "me" tells me none of this is true, but the depressed "me" tells me that one day soon, everyone will find me out, and I'll be seen as the failure that I obviously am. I wasted so many of my years to alcoholism, and now that particular monkey sits on my shoulder but is controlled at the moment, the little voice in my ear tells me that a drink will take away these feelings. I know it's not true, so worry not, my friends. Today I will not drink!

Doc quite concerned about my outlook and my feelings today, and I have to go back in two weeks time to get "monitored". I've had one or two better days of late, but today, with a few problems rearing up their ugly heads, hasn't helped much, but left me feeling quite powerless and insignificant.

I don't expect many to understand, because I don't really understand myself! Just say a wee prayer for me, (and poor Linda too - the RW gets a lot of grief when I'm like this)!

An interesting article in The Herald today! Now that they have all discovered the internet, the abuse continues on line!

The whole saga has been running for years now, with various attempts to go into partnership with other agencies, looking for external funding, looking at drawings, then revised drawings, then revisions of revisions, until finally the AGM of last October decided to grasp the nettle and give our project the green light.

Since then, we seem to have been very slow at getting there. Planning, police, Historic Scotland and Uncle Tom Cobley have to be advised of our proposal. Planning need to see the plans that we are going to send them later... like we have to apply for permission to apply for permission, and it all takes weeks and months.

As yet, we still need planning permission and a building warrant before we can even put the project out to tender. Then we need to wait until our favoured builder has time in his diary for a start date. It now looks as if an October start is unlikely, unless we are talking 2009. Why are all these people taking so much time? When it comes to payment, these folk will want payment within 14 days of invoicing. Maybe we should set up a strategy that bills will only be paid after being endorsed by three different committees - some of whom only meet quarterly?

Aye, and they would accept that - not!!!

Some of us watched the Old Firm game on TV last night. It was a decent game of football, with Celtic the deserved winners of a crucial tie in the run up to the end of the Championship. The songs were loud and clear, despite television's efforts to mute most of them, and a missile was thrown at the Rangers' doctor as he treated an injured player. The big problem occured after Celtic scored a winner in injury time. The fisticuffs, pushing and shoving amongst the players themselves at the final whistle did nothing to help the feelings and emotions of a 60,000 crowd who witnessed it. Players, supposedly professionals, lighting the blue touch paper then retiring to their dressing rooms. Men who are paid sums like £30,000 a week, scrapping it out in front of the bigoted hordes, and then we wonder why there is trouble in the streets and bars post-match. Barry Ferguson, as ever, in the middle of it, with McManus, Weir, D'Archeville and the rest, not far behind. Will the footballing authoritioes react? Aye, with a one match ban, maybe and a wee slap on the wrists.

These guys are supposedly role-models for our kids in the housing schemes of Glasgow. Their violent conduct gives blessing to similar stuff that will go on today in the streets with our young ones, and the divisions within the West of Scotland are continued and ratified by the professional footballers they adore and look up to.

They should have the book thrown at them. The lot of them.

I was getting something out of my car this morning, after the Eucharist, and there it was.. a sound from my past... the unmistakeable sound of the flute band playing The Sash.. in the middle of Dumbarton Town Centre. "How did they get the time off work?", I wonder, then wonder again why at this time of year? The Marching Season is not until June/July usually, and in my experience it's a "weekend" thing! Then I see it. A blue car, driven by a numpty, with the windows down and his stereo blaring for us all to hear. "And it's on the twelfth..", the words of my childhood in sectarian Glasgow are etched in my very soul.

I despair that we haven't come that far in the West of Scotland when you scratch the surface. The Rangers play Celtic tonight, and Glasgow holds its breath. Which half of the Old Firm will be playing their battle songs in their car tomorrow? How many for the Casualty Department tonight?

Their songs end up either with "F* the Pope", or "F* the Queen", and my soul churns with memories of a divided city, a divided close in our tenement building, divided families, and mindless violence. It churns because 50 years on it's still there. We're still fighting the Battle of the Boyne, revelling in IRA triumphs and extholling their martyrs, guarding Derry's Walls and singing songs about the potato famine in Ireland.

And it's not just Glaswegians. Many thousands will travel into the city today from everywhere. Buses from all over Scotland, flights from London and abroad, ferries from the Republic and ferries from the North of Ireland, bringing with them the hatred and vitriol that dare not speak its name in some of their own communities. Poisoning my city, the city of my birth, with their hatred and bile.

And I thank God that I'm not one of them.

I ended up in a state of embarrasment yesterday, after forwarding an e-mail to some folk, which turned out to be a hoax! Here was me, thinking I'd got all the hoaxes sorted in my head, and I fell for one myself! First time for a long time! I should have checked before forwarding.

I forward very little these days anyway, and have come to detest the ones that demand that I forward this to X number of people within the next X number of hours or the chain will be broken and I'll have bad luck, God will hate me, the world will come to an end, thousands will feel unloved, my hair will fall out or some other disaster will befall me! The ones that say, "send back to me to show me you love or care for me", are probably the worst, because you feel morally obliged to do so!

The emotional crap that clutters up cyberspace I think is generally created by folk who need to get a life! So now that I have alienated half the world and 75% of my friends, I'll just have a wee check at my email to see if somebody does love me enough today to send me something crass! I guess I secretly crave the sentiments!

The cat, otherwise known as the Silent Assasin, has been busy over the past 18 hours or so. Yet another live mouse has been brought in for "playtime" with the dogs, ending up with me falling on my nether regions trying to catch the little one who was by now minus its tail,and this afternoon, trumping anything that has gone before, by carrying in a little bird who was scared senseless!

This was done with a great flourish of miaowing, barking and the bird flying into the blinds with the cat fast at its tail. All four, two dogs a cat and a bird, ended up enmeshed in the living room blinds, with me, deeply engrossed in my Church Times, needing a cup of something hot and sweet to revive myself after rescuing the poor bird.

It's quiet now, but the SA, hunter-gatherer that she is, is out again on the prowl. God only knows what's next. If the wee dog has pups, which we are hoping for, I don't give them much of a chance in this house. Anyone bidding for a Rectory cat that epitomises the Power of Evil?

Well, that's us out of the Scottish Cup again, but with a wee blaze of glory. Beaten 2-0 by Satan's XI is no shame, particularly since we had a lot of posession, and made seven or eight decent chances during the match, including a missed penalty. Simon Donnelly was still suffering from shock that we were given a penalty against one of the Old Firm in the first place, and blasted his spot kick wide of the mark. It just wasn't our day, but there are some hopeful signs among those youngsters we had on the park. With a wee rub of the green today, Rangers were certainly there for the taking.

On a positive note, I'm glad that the Rangers support are still at the point of "No Surrender", and I'm thrilled to hear that they are still guarding Old Derry's walls. I'm sure they need guarding, as I'm really up for the Queen being saved too. I think this is quite a good idea, but I wonder what it has to do with football???

The rousing choruses of Rule Brittania had me reaching for my Union Jack hankie, and made me check that I was wearing my Union Jack boxer shorts too!

This all glossed over the fact that wee Novo and "Burkie" are diving bandits and cheats. There you go. Not the least bit bitter, me!

Lawyers should never ask a Mississippi grandma a question if they aren't prepared for the answer.

In a trial, a Southern small-town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, a grandmotherly, elderly woman to the stand. He approached her and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know me?' She responded, 'Why, yes, I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, and you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you'll never amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you.'

The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, 'Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?'

She again replied, 'Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a
youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him.'

The defense attorney nearly died.

The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench and, in a very quiet voice, said,
'If either of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I'll send you both to the electric chair.'

Tomorrow, on the Sabbath no less, Partick Thistle Nil take on Satan's XI in a Scottish Cup Quarter Final. With our top scorer, and our captain, the mainstay of our defence, both out injured, the prognosis is not the best, but, then again, this is Partick Thistle we're talking about, and anything can happen in the cup! So the RR will trek along after Divine Services, with hope in his heart, in expectation of ecstacy at the final whistle!

In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University.

On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Mbembe approached it very carefully.

He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.

As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.

The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.

Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.

Mbembe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Mbembe was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son.

As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing.

The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant.

Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Mbembe' s legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly .

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

I'm indebted to Ship of Fools for the stuff below. Toastie, Peanut and Truffle could hardly keep their enthusiasm at bay....

And you thought "repent and be baptized" was only for humans. Not so, according to Father Andrew, who recently hawked ready-made pet-baptizing kits on eBay. Here was a chance to get absolution from on high for Nero for biting the postman and Cuddles for wetting on your drapes. Predicated on the assumption that theology isn't all that important, the kit came with holy water, a baptismal certificate, a prayer (of St Francis, natch) and instructions for a baptismal ceremony that will "enrich the lives of both you and your pet".

Well. Now you know why they always stare forlornly at you when you're getting ready for church... it's nothing to do with wanting to be fed, they've been agonizing over their lost souls. Each kit was hand-packed and blessed by Father Andrew himself.

ST. PAUL — Larry Batters has become the unlikely victim of what some are calling prophecy abuse. Batters, a self-described "reserved fellow" and St. Paul-area plumber, finally gave in to his wife's requests to visit the charismatic church she attends on Sunday morning. That morning the church had invited a visiting evangelist, Thomas Kline, to speak. Kline, who claims to have the gift of prophecy, singled Larry out of the crowd of 330 and told him he would have "a worldwide ministry that would touch nations for God." Larry was deeply moved and began preparing for his career transition, storing money away in a savings account and selling his business.
Three years later, the prophecy has "fizzled," and he feels cheated, he says.
"I put my life on hold because I was convinced this 'word' was true," he says. "Now I think it's hooey. I'm just a plumber. Plumbers don’t touch the world."
He's suing Kline and the church for $1 million, to regain his dignity and try to keep it from happening to someone else.
Witnesses say Batters should have known better. They say Kline told at least 50 people that day something similar: that they would have a far-reaching ministry with global impact, and that their true calling would soon become evident. He told many of them to prepare to "be launched into the stratosphere of God's blessing."
"Guys like that blow in, make you feel good, then blow out and it's back to normal," said one church member who asked not to be identified. "You almost get used to it. It's like a carnival ride. I'm surprised someone actually believed it."
Larry says he fell for it "hook, line and sinker."
"I must have been going through a mid-life crisis or something," he says. "I'm a sucker. I admit it." He has vowed to stick with the Lutheran place near his house for his religious needs.
Kline's secretary said he was traveling and was unavailable for comment, but that "many people have benefited from changed lives due to Prophet Kline's world-changing ministry." •

Well, on the bright side, we got Partick Thistle One, and even won, last night. However the darkness, nay blackness of this depression I'm going through just now shows little sign of abating. It's crazy, it's irrational, it's silly, because I have so many pluses going on in my life, but it's there none-the-less, eating into my soul and I'm sure communicating itself to others around me. Snap out of it? Wish I could! Count your blessings? I do, but the darkness still enfolds me like a monkey puzzle from which there is no escape. Those who just get "fed up" at times, struggle to understand the depths and the power of this state of mind, and, yes, I wish I was merely fed-up, or lonely or only just pissed-off with living! But it's much heavier than that. The darkness threatens to overpower my life, my relationships, my worth as a human being.

In my mind I know there will be an Easter Morning at the end of this long Good Friday, but as yet I've still to catch even a glimpse of the sunrise.

I hold on tentatively to the times and places where the sun shone, when God was for real, and optimism soared through me like a raging river. One day soon it will come again.

This place is not recommended for those who leave things until the last minute! But a wonderful excuse for ladies to nick into a cubicle in the Lad's when the queue in the Ladies is too much to bear!

Came across this wonderful site which will help me in Mission to the great unwashed bunch of teenagers that I come across. You, too, can speak teenage with this wonderful tool!

http://ssshotaru.homestead.com/files/aolertranslator.html