Out on top

It's late. We watched the football, right to the end - would I have, had I been on my own? I don't know. I'll be glad to be done with this "football's coming home" malarkey and all its accompanying hyperbole, and can't but wonder what effect these huge crowds, celebrating, commiserating or just plain rioting will have on Covid figures, but that's not really what I want to talk about at all.

Instead, a contrast. There seems to have been much talk recently about the role of clergy in the mission of the C of E, though I only picked up on it through the expressions of hurt and bewilderment on Twitter from Anglican clergy. Apparently the view is trending that the laity are the answer. Now, our service this morning might have appeared to bear that sentiment out: it was led by a lay person, with readings, sermon and intercessions done by three other women. It was a lovely service: calm, measured and holy. As we left, in our careful ones and twos, I could hear people commenting on how good they felt about it, so it wasn't just my subjective take. But I was very much aware of the fact that we lay leaders are confident because we know we are supported and encouraged by our Rector - away every second Sunday at our linked charge on Bute - and by the presence in our congregation of another priest, retired but available, and two qualified Lay Readers. We have a congregation every Sunday in church which is the equal in number of many a non-Covid congregation, and online services to provide for the transition back to normality and beyond, perhaps. House churches we are not.

I'm aware that the unchurched will find this tedious, or baffling, or as irrelevant to them as the Euros have been to me, but bear with me. There is much to be gained from being part of a community who work together to support each other as needed and to aspire to provide a space where wonder can happen - and it is a mistake to regard their existence as depending on fairy tales, for that is to misunderstand the reality of a mature approach to the mysteries of life and death.

After all that, a quick romp through the day. Our coffee in the garden was interrupted by a shower and completed under the golf umbrella. By the time we went for a walk in Benmore Gardens, it was dry and still and silent. That's where my blip comes from - the Andean Refuge at the top of the hill in the gardens, among the monkey-puzzles. 

And the best news of all after an anxious 10 days is that, having got a taxi to the airport at 4am, my son and his daughter are now in Brittany, reunited with the rest of the family after a red-eye flight to Paris from a deserted Edinburgh Airport and a connecting flight to Rennes. They can relax; the weather is improving there; I can feel the tendons in my neck beginning to loosen ...

And now that I've got all that out, I'm off to bed.