Simon Marsh

WHAT AN EXTRAORDINARY JOY it was to be present at the Inaugural Conference of the new Affirming Liberalism network at Trinity College Oxford yesterday. Not much of a “party affiliated” person by nature I was surprised by the enthusiasm with which I greeted news of a new liberal-minded network within the Church of England.

But then it’s true that I’ve grieved in the past decade or so as I’ve watched fellow Christians become more and more deeply entrenched in one degree of “certainty” after another. It’s true that I’ve been distressed by my own disinclination to “fight back”. It’s true that my theological inclinations have always been more ready to seek out affirmations than assertions. So the 10 Affirmations unexpectedly set before my eyes by Affirming Liberalism were bound to bring a measure of relief and joy to my heart.

Affirming Liberalism seeks to enhance the ‘enrichment’ of the Christian faith and support ordained and lay Christians of the Liberal Anglican tradition by:

Affirming faith in Jesus’ life, teaching, death and resurrection as revealing God’s limitless love for all humanity in this life and the next.

Affirming the dynamic action of the Holy Spirit in dispersing this divine love throughout the world.

Affirming the positive impact of biblical, literary and historical criticism for our engagement with Scripture and Tradition.

Affirming appreciation of the distinctive nature of religious language in vibrant worship which connects us to the divine.

Affirming a philosophical approach to Christian faith and the search for truth through God-given reason.

Affirming the positive insights of the natural sciences and mathematics in the formation of a Christian world-view and understanding of the universe.

Affirming the positive impact of the social sciences for understanding human nature and society, and developing Christian ethics.

Affirming the vitality of the performing and creative arts in shaping a dynamic Christian vision of life lived in relation to God.

Affirming open, creative conversation with Evangelicals and Catholics as a means of enriching our understanding of the Christian gospel.

Affirming open, creative conversation with other faith traditions and cultures as a way of deepening our understanding of God.

 

SELF-AWARENESS, VOCATION, AND HOW?

How did Jesus prepare for leadership without the “help” of mission statements, or identifying key people, or setting targets? How did Jesus survive a wilderness environment that reduced him, body and soul, to barest essentials, leaving his character and instincts starkly exposed, whipped by the razor-sharp winds of the desert? How did he survive, with no apparent external assistance, to shore him up or sustain him? My dictionary speaks of wilderness as an uncultivated, uninhabited, and inhospitable region. Tough training indeed. Even yomping SAS commandos have a bit more moral support around them than was available to Jesus.

APPEARING NOW TO LEAP FROM ONE SUBJECT TO ANOTHER

It’s Thanksgiving Sunday at St Michael & All Angels’ next week. The (actually only one) occasion in the year when it’s the Vicar’s task to encourage one and all to think and pray about what we might contribute to the work of God’s Church in terms of time, talents and money. And we’re all encouraged to think and to pray precisely because no-one else is equipped to tell us what we can or cannot afford to give or to do. Only we can know. Only we ourselves can square up to exactly what our relationship with God and the gifts he’s given us is. Only we, as individuals, can really know whether we’ve anything in our lives to be thankful for, or not.

“WILDERNESS” & THANKSGIVING ARE LINKED!

What kind of training and help do I need in order to arrive at a good decision about what I may or may not offer back to God? Is there anyone whose example I might follow? Is there man, woman or child who has risen above the grubby business of self-interest and temptation; anyone I can look up to, be inspired by, want to emulate? Where could I engage such a person in conversation? Where could I learn what inspired and motivated him or her? How can I learn not to feel pain when I give something away, but rather to revel in the laughter and joy of God’s creation itself? How do I learn to be a cheerful giver? Who am I? What am I called to be and do? And how?

THERE’S AN “ESSENTIALS” CLUE IN THE “WILDERNESS” …

I learn how to give when I’ve been to a place, in person or in spirit, where I’ve been brought face to face with reality; where I’ve been shown who and what I am; where I’ve come to know without shadow of a doubt that I am loved by my Creator, who is ALMIGHTY GOD, forever and ever, and that “I shall lack nothing”. I learn how to give when I’m even slightly more interested in even occasional quiet spaces alone with God than I am in my social life or in what I possess, or might some day possess. I learn how to give, and I learn how to love, and I learn how to “live life in all its fullness” on the very day, and in the very hour, and in the very moment, when I allow all of MY character and all of my instincts to be starkly exposed … to the inexpressible beauty, and the unimaginable generosity, and the surpassing glory and assurance, of GOD — who loves me, FOREVER.

 

 

 

THERE WILL PROBABLY HAVE BEEN TIMES in your life when you’ve been able to say with the priest and poet, R S Thomas, that God comes

That’s so often how it is with the coming of God. Unannounced simplicity. No immediate expectation that we should behave in a particular way. No expectation that we should speak in an out-of-the-ordinary or convoluted theological language. No expectation that the “saving of souls” will make clearly defined or absolutist demands of human-kind, save for the Divine expectation of the God newly arrived in the back-streets of Bethlehem, that some one might pick up a Christ-child and hold Him close to their heart for to keep the little Chap warm.

This little Jesus teaches you and me how we are to be bridge-builders. This little Jesus is Pontifex — the bridge-maker, Emmanuel, God amongst us, the great High Priest, the Son of the Most High, the sacrifice or Christmas present of Almighty God Himself to His beloved world. This little Jesus is God come among us. We are to be little like Him. We are to be loved and we are to love. We are to be remarkable, at Christmas-time and through all time, for the absence of clamour; knowing that Christ leads His children on to the place where He has now gone. Home.

¹ Suddenly - R S Thomas, COLLECTED POEMS 1945-1990

 

FEW THINGS GLADDEN THE  HEART of a parish priest like a Church full of enthusiastic Scouts, Guides, Cubs and Brownies. Scouting celebrates its Centenary this year and there’s loads of info’ to cheer your heart at http://www.scouts.org.uk

 

4th Bramhall Explorer Scouts delivered a fun Centenary presentation to a “packed house” at our 9am Eucharist today. Those arriving for the succeeding 10.45am celebration were caught up in the good cheer of a tidal-wave of folk heading for coffee and home. I love the sight of these “traffic jams” of people on Sunday mornings. And I love the sight of the faithful band of helpers - most of them already busy with work and their own family lives - who make Scouting happen. Without them the world would be missing out on SO much. Those who lead our 160+ Scouts, and the Guides, and other Youth activities, remind me today of the aged Simeon and his friend Anna, Luke 2.22-40, whose prayer-life enabled them to recognise in the infant Jesus a bright hope for the nations. Those who are encouraging the Scouts, Guides and young people I met again this morning are reaping great reward … they’re helping to shape the lives of some of the nicest folk you could meet … and thereby shaping the future of our community, God love ‘em!  And the gift and cheers given to Reader Pam Smith, retiring (and moving house) after 40+ years of devoted work with our young people,  was heart-warming evidence that the work is wholly appreciated.

 

 

 

I’M A RICH MAN, Bill told me, when I visited him in hospital just before Christmas. And he wasn’t talking about his bank balance. Bill was one of those delightfully down to earth Christian men who appreciated “life in all its fullness”. The riches that Bill spoke of included his wife, family and friends, and more interests than one could write a book about. Perfectly aware that a heart condition “numbered his days”, Bill was tucking into a hearty lunch with enthusiasm, told me one of the funniest jokes of my year, and promised me that he’d be in Church for Christmas. He was. With another funny joke. But he went to bed, at home, a couple of days later, and read the Collect, Epistle and Gospel for the Feast of St John the Evangelist in the little St Swithun’s Prayer Book he’d bought as a 17 year old lad back home in Belfast …

 

From the Epistle: We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands … 1 John 1

 

Bill died, peacefully, that evening. Today the parish church he loved was filled. Filled with representatives from other branches of the Christian Church; filled with friends from near and far; filled with representatives of a range of interests, loves and concerns that were testimony to the warm and generous measure of the man. Michael the Archangel was close at hand. Tears and tales were shared, together with a good lunch and “the sound of Irish laughter” in the air. I had the sense that Bill would have been both surprised and proud. But he’d been right as we chatted in the hospital before Christmas. Bill was a rich man. A Christian man. I shall remember his example. RIP. x

 

 

 

 

 

ARCHBISHOP SENTAMU OF YORK has given up a planned holiday in Austria this week. The “Watchman for the North” will, instead, “camp out” in York Minster calling men and women of goodwill, everywhere, to join him in prayer and in fasting for peace …

 

“We have an opportunity to stand up and be counted with those in Israel, Lebanon and Palestine and all over the world who seek after Peace. This is what this week will be about, people coming together for one purpose alone – to pray for peace in our troubled world and to pray especially for the Middle East”. 

 

Many will want to heed the Archbishop’s call - and bless his example. And I shall pray that York Minster will be only one amongst many centres of focused and purposeful gathering in the coming week. May temples, synagogues, mosques, churches, schools, workplaces and homes throughout the land be filled with peoples bound by common purpose. Filled with peoples united by their conscious longing for the peace that can only be granted to any of us - individuals or nations - by something or someone quite BEYOND ourselves and our limited horizons and aspirations.

 

And may that great and diverse gathering “for one purpose alone” renew in all of us a sense of our common brotherhood and sisterhood in the family of our humanity. May we remember that the Creator of the World hears the cry of the poor, of the little ones, of the bewildered and the dispossessed. May we remember that God bears no ill will or ill intent for ANY child of his making. May the Watchman for the North inspire each of us to be watchwomen and watchmen for the very food of our continued presence in this world: a united humanity. Peace. Peace. Peace.

 

Some of the prayers used by the Archbishop this week can be read here 

 

 

 

WE’VE BEEN WATCHING NEWS OF WAR in the Middle East with ever-increasing heartache: one father, mother, husband, wife, son or daughter after another struggling to come to terms with the nightmarish realities of war. The sound of fear resounds in their and our ears. News of foiled UK-based terrorist attempts cause us to wonder, once again, how it would be for us if tragedy on such a scale struck any closer to our own hearts and homes. God help our humankind: there can be no alternative to our learning to be more temperate. We are all God’s beloved children. Superiority — racial, religious, political, intellectual, gender-based or personal does the cause of our humanity absolutely no favours. It is the greatest and perhaps the longest lived of all the world’s myths.

 

However long it takes we have to learn to live without war - national, parochial or domestic. We must learn to live in and for peace. All women and men of goodwill must be seen to be people perpetually unwilling to engage in hot-headed, ill-informed opinion swapping. We can and must begin afresh (new every morning) to

 

“put away all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven us”

- Ephesians 4.31

 

We don’t even have an accurate figure of how many Lebanese, Israeli and Palestinian civilians have been killed in recent weeks. More than 900,000 people have been displaced from their homes in Lebanon, and citizens of the Gaza Strip have little access to essential supplies. Thousands of Israelis have had to leave northern Israel to escape rocket attacks from Hezbollah in Lebanon. Aid agencies are working in the heat of this situation amongst all affected peoples. May there be generous response to the urgent need for further gifts to support and sustain this vital ministry. And daily prayer is surely amongst the most important gifts needed — for that blessing that the world and each and every one of us needs more than anything else: the desire for, and the will to work, by word and quiet domestic example, for PEACE.

 

 

AMONGST THE VERY MANY JOYS directly attributable to my calling to be a parish priest are the daily conversations I enjoy with God’s people. Here is the anvil upon which is hammered into shape our theology - our learning about God - and the ideals of our Christian praxis. It’s these conversations that bring me back to my knees and reaching for the book shelf. It’s these conversations that bring me back to the priestly “chewing of the cud”. These conversations that call me back, afterwards, to contemplation.

 

Yesterday I enjoyed a happy couple of hours with a delightful would-be ordinand. What richness of experience, what breadth of heart and mind this man (who by rights would be entitled, in his early sixties, to a taste of the quiet life, by now) brings to the ministry of his local church. If the wider Church comes to discern in this man a future priest then I, for one, will applaud the recognition. I recommended (for the second time in a week) Richard Giles’ fabulous little “Here I Am - Reflections on the Ordained Life” - and having recommmended it turned again to, and learned again from, his Introduction …

 

The prayer life of a priest is essential if he or she is going to be someone who ‘is’, who has won through to that state of being in which we rest in God, healed and forgiven. The priest holds within himself the tension of being and doing, eschewing both self-indulgent spirituality and frantic, pointless activity. She lives the advice of St Ignatius of Loyola: “Pray as if everything depended on God, and act as if everything depended on you”.  

 

 

 

 

 

I HAVE BEEN ABSORBED by Tony Hendra’s moving and un-put-downable Father Joe. The late Dom Joseph Warrilow, Monk of Quarr Abbey, was for Hendra, and for countless others, “the man who saved my soul”. Hendra recalls that Father Joe, wonderfully warm, wise, present and humane, had said that “the only way to know God, the only way to know the other, is to listen. Listening is reaching out into that unknown other self, surmounting your walls and theirs; listening is the beginning of understanding, the first exercise of love.”

 

None of us listen enough, do we, dear? We only listen to a fraction of what people say. It’s a wonderfully useful thing to do. You almost always hear something you didn’t expect.

 

There’s no alternative to listening. The best debating listens; the best diplomacy listens; the best friendship listens; the best learning listens; the best loving listens; the best praying listens; the best teaching listens; the best worship listens. But none of us listens enough. None of us listens enough - whilst longing, in the midst of the perpetual noise of this world, to be warm, wise, present and humane. Tony Hendra’s story, and Father Joe’s example, encourage me to keep trying.
 

 

 

“let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: let it be rather a moving sea between the shores of your souls”

 

YESTERDAY, speaking about contemplation, I quoted from 19 year old Pilot Officer John Magee’s poem High Flight. Some have kindly enquired after the full text which is set down hereunder. John Magee flew a high altitude (30,000 feet) test flight in a newer model of the Spitfire V, on 3rd September 1941. As he orbited and climbed upward, he was struck with the inspiration of a poem — “To touch the face of God.” Once back on the ground, he wrote a letter to his parents. In it he commented, “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.” On the back of the letter, he jotted down his poem, ‘High Flight’. Only three months later, on 11th December 1941, Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee died.

 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of —
Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air …

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee, Jr

 

The apostles returned from their mission. They gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.

Mark 6.30-32

 

I LOVE TO RECALL FR JIM BRAND’S coming to address one of our Swanwick Clergy Conferences years ago. An energetic and inspiring priest, much of the gist of what he had to say has stayed with me, long after I finally lost the tapes I was in the habit, frequently, of loaning to friends. I keep promising myself that, one day, I’ll ask the Diocesan Office whether they’ve kept copies of those tapes.

 

Christian people, Fr Jim suggested, wasted many of life’s most wonderful opportunities simply because they were too busy rushing on to the next thing. When engaged in conversation, or administering the sacraments, Fr Jim reckoned to work hard at ensuring that the person in front of him, at that moment, received his fullest and best attention. I’ve tried, often unsuccessfully, to follow his example.

 

‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile,’ …

 

… said Jesus to his apostles, teaching them, much as Fr Jim would later teach our gathering at Swanwick, something of the spiritual discipline of retreat, or waiting, or contemplation. Of course we know that Jesus was pastorally compassionate, too: only a verse or two after his call to rest we read, in v. 34

 

… as he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things …

 

But that takes nothing away from the principle that Christian people need to take time for rest, refreshment, prayer and contemplation—time for the present moment. Time for God.

 

Fr Richard Rohr OFM—another priest who continues to teach me a very great deal, tells of an encounter between a Zen master and his disciple:

 

“Is there anything I can do to make myself enlightened?”

“As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning.”

“Then of what use are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?”

“To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise”

 

Fr Richard goes on to say

 

“The contemplative secret is to learn to live in the now. The now is not as empty as it might appear to be or that we fear it may be”. ¹

 

Come, then, let us rest awhile

 

“in the Lord; in whom you (we) also are built together spiritually into a dwelling-place for God.”

Ephesians 2.22

 

 

TO BE TRANSFORMED by the renewing of our minds. Our evening prayer suggests today that I - that we - are to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. And I’m glad to hear it, for I’ve discovered that renewal is good. My entire Christian pilgrimage has been about the renewing of my mind, about the renewing of our minds, about – to put it simply – growing up!

 

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Romans 12.1-8

Two streams met and looked ahead at a vast desert.

The trees were dry and withered: nothing grew; the mouths of the cattle were chapped: everything was dry, awful.

The first said to the second, ‘What are you going to do?’

The second stream travelled to the desert.

The desert said, ‘I am going to swallow you. There will be no change, for I am glad when everything is dry, withered and dead.’

The second stream flowed on.

The desert opened its mouth, swallowed the stream and remained a desert.

The first stream shook its head, turned right round, passed boulders, went on up, up, reached the infinite lake which looked at the stream and said, ‘I have long looked for a channel.’

The stream said, ‘Pour through me.’

The lake poured through the stream.

The desert said, ‘I will drink you up.’

The little stream flowed on and on and swallowed up the desert, and all the barren land blossomed like a rose.

Ephraim Alphonse: Panama

 

Truly this is to be our vocation in this dawn of the twenty-first century: to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. And then, better equipped to discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect, streams of living water will flow on and on and on … and all the barren land …

Lord, hear us. Lord, graciously hear us.

 

Teachers who make room for cautious, doubting, experimenting, tentative disciples are the greatest mentors. And we are citizens, learners, allowed room for loving and laughing, for failing and trying, for praying and parting, for crying and dying. Closed doors present no problem to the Risen Jesus: He comes among us “though the doors were shut” to say “Peace be with you”. And we, who are allowed to doubt, tentatively step forward, beckoned by God’s “it’s going to be OK” … until the day when we can say, “My Lord and my God!” … becoming “Blessed” or “Happy”.

 

Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’ A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

John 20.24-29

 

 

 

 

 

A BRIGHT, HOT AND SUNNY MORNING for our 9am outdoor Parade Service today - further blessed by a really good attendance and a first class presentation by Scouts, Guides, Cubs, Brownies and Young Church - about the need for firm foundations, and how Jesus gives us the tools to build upon rock. For the umpteenth time in my life I find myself giving thanks for the fabulous and often unsung ministries of the countless thousands who give of their lives and talents to help establish firm foundations in our society: the teachers, the youth leaders, the Scouting movement worldwide, the multitudes who, every day of their lives, do their bit to celebrate and to build up the startling, marvellous and extraordinary gift of human life and endeavour. If you’re reading this, and were part of today’s celebration in Bramhall, thanks for being there. Thanks for being an inspiration, and for being rock! And special thanks for saving me a hot dog at the barbecue!

 

 

I’VE GROWN USED, here in Bramhall, to the nearby sound of trains rattling through the night. The sound of life trundling on is comforting and homely somehow. (Yes! - that would be it - 6 years old: Christmas morning: train track around the sofa …) And I’ve come to be able to recognise - by the sound of it, and the degree to which the house shakes - the length of a train, and whether it’s laden or empty. Empty goods trains rattle and grumble. Long after they’ve passed there’s a whispered memory. In my sleep I can still hear them muttering when they’re pulling into the yard up in Manchester. Whereas a fully laden goods train is very much quieter in the night. Much more purposeful. A quick swoooosh. Less invasive. On the way somewhere. A train to be waved to, with a smile. A train that someone might welcome or respond to. Purposeful trains don’t grumble on the line. They don’t rattle.

 

I like people who are carrying something, with a sense of purpose and a good intent. Last evening I had supper here with 30+ pastoral visitors. An exceptionally nice and gifted bunch of people, not a rattle or a grumble or a whisper amongst them. Synods and Conventions and empty words and journeys don’t feature much in their itineraries. Care of the housebound, care of their families, care in their community is very much more their thing. Here’s a goods train that’s carrying something, with a sense of purpose. Going somewhere. These are the Kingdom people. These are the people who spend less time dissecting the Word and more time living in Him. These are the people who pick ears of corn, on the Sabbath, with which to feed the hungry. Here’s … Immortal love, forever full, forever flowing free. Forever shared, forever whole, a never ebbing sea. For … Our outward lips confess the name all other names above: love only knoweth whence it came and comprehendeth love. (John Greenleaf Whittier). But it was a very substantial supper: so I’m off to the gym.

 

PS: Please see Fr Tony Clavier’s thoughtful article after Archbishop Rowan’s published Reflection this week …
 

 

 

WHAT WOULD JESUS SAY? – my friend Bill would almost always interject … sometimes to the considerable chagrin of one or two of us … who were very probably articulating our current flight of fancy at the time. What would Jesus say?

 

And the painful answer often was, and is, that we’re not entirely sure! And this is sometimes the more acutely painful because our human conditioning makes of us a people who want to be sure what we’re about, what we’re doing, what we’re believing. And – to complicate matters further – there are some folk who, in addition, want to be sure what others are about, or are doing, or are believing. This is real human commerce! This is the stuff of what it means to be community … to live together.

 

Archbishop Rowan speaks words of counsel to us in his The Challenge and Hope of Being an Anglican Today: A Reflection for the Bishops, Clergy and Faithful of the Anglican Communion. (see Ruth Gledhill)

 

Meanwhile in parishes around the globe we chatter about “Fresh Expressions”, of “Looking Outwards”, of “Justice” and of “Peace”; of mission and of schism, of unity and of disunity; of straight and of gay. And in all of this, and more, I’m endlessly interrupted by Bill’s “What would Jesus say?”

 

And difficult though it be I know that I ought to have a better idea of what Jesus might say to the Church in our day. I ought to have a clearer idea of what Jesus is saying to me. And so, deep down, I know that I must spend less time looking backwards, forwards, outwards, inwards or sideways, and learn to look upwards.

 

I’ll come to a clearer understanding of Jesus’ view of things when I study the Scriptures and share in the Sacraments with that openness of mind and heart that is invoked by true “worship in Spirit and in truth” … and when I remember, amidst the clamour and the clatter of life in the Church and in the world that whatever Jesus would say, whatever Jesus is saying, HIS tone is a “still, small voice of calm”.

 

Let me then pay more attention to “looking upwards”: more to worship, and to prayerful listening, than to soapbox flights of fancy … or good old (bad old) religiosity …

 

What would, what does, JESUS say?

 

 

 

STIRLING MOSS ! - her son-in-law called her, reflecting her enthusiasm for driving a highly polished red Mini about town. And she could drive a needle, too. Our parish church is proud of the 49, yes, forty-nine, kneelers that this energetic lady worked, in tapestry and in love. A devoted wife, widowed, 39 years ago today, a loving mother, mother-in-law, and proud, knitting, grandmother. A gardener, flower arranger, encourager and faithful friend. A fun person. A fan of Dick Emery – “Oooh, you are awful, but I do like you!”. A faithful Christian who celebrated 87 years. Her daughter spoke with sadness, and with clarity and confidence at the same time. Her friends gathered in large numbers to bid her “farewell”. Her priests prayed with her and for her. A lover of roses gave each sorrowing friend, by the generous hand of her family, a single rose by which each and all might recall that they had been loved and deeply appreciated. Nunc dimittis in procession. Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Requiescat in pace