Took Jack to church today and he was very well behaved. He lay down quietly at our feet throughout the eucharist, raised an eyebrow at the fraction (it did sound like a tasty cracker being broken), stood up when we exchanged the peace, and best of all shared in a biscuit at the end.

At this rate he could be baptised next week before mum gets home.

Came across an article today by Sarah Hinlicky
http://www.firstthings.com/ftissues/ft9902/opinion/hinlicky.html
which is an essay about why young people don't come to church, and about what the church can do to rectify this. It is well written and resonates strongly with my own past as well as what I see in my own children.

She writes:
"We know you've tried to get us to church. That's part of the problem. Many of your appeals have been carefully calculated for success, and that turns our collective stomach. Take worship, for instance. You may think that fashionable cutting-edge liturgies relate to us on our level, but the fact is, we can find better entertainment elsewhere. The same goes for anything else you term 'contemporary'. We see right through it: it's up-to-date for the sake of being up-to-date, and we're not impressed by the results..."

When I was a student I did an attachment with a big evangelical city-centre church full of young people. Young good-looking people too. They had 3 services each Sunday: one at 8am which was traditional Prayer Book with trad hymns; one at 11am which was full of young parents and 4 levels of Sunday School and lots of jolly modern choruses and an occasional trad hymn; and the evening service which catered mostly for students and singing was accompanied by the overhead projector so that one's hands were free to drift heavenwards. Preaching focussed highly on the agenda (sometimes lasting 45 minutes) and was slick and scary at the same time.

However the priest did say to me that the growing congregation was the early morning one and he felt that some of the congregation were starting to look for the 'numinous' in worship and liked coming to the High Altar for communion. But the main service was the one which catered for children so many who would like to 'move on' were stuck doing what was best for their kids.

The article goes on:
"On the other hand, you shouldn't be excessively medieval and mysterious, either. Mystery works up to a point, but it's addictive, and once we get hooked on it, the Church won't be able to provide enough to support out habit. We'll turn instead (many of us already have) to Eastern gurus and ancient pagan pantheons to satisfy all the esoteric delights our souls might desire..."

I can vouch for that. It was after a period of exploring many New Age spiritualities which were indeed addictive (and expensive!)that I finally came around to the idea that I might find what I was looking for in the church. Not nearly so trendy but where else could I find forgiveness, love, mystery, company, drama and music to die for all in one place? It certainly worked for me, and there is only so much drumming that a woman can cope with.

The article continues: "Then, of course, there is the matter of telling us that the Church possesses the Absolute Truth... We're much more comfortable with the idea of a multiplicity of little truths than one single unifying truth. But even if universal truth does exist, we are extremely skeptical that you - or anyone else - can possess it..."

Sometimes the Church can be so arrogant - and so off-putting - in its assertion that it holds the Absolute Truth. I like the idea of 'little truths'.

And finally: "...What do you have left to persuade us? One thing: the story. We are story people. We know narratives, not ideas. Our surrogate parents were the TV and the VCR, and we can spew out entertainment trivia at the drop of a hat. We treat our ennui with stories, more and more stories, because they're the only things that make sense; when the external stories fail, we make a story of our own lives... Perhaps the only thing you can do, then, is to point us towards Golgotha, a story that we can make sense of. Show us the women who wept and loved the Lord but couldn't change his fate. Remind us that Peter, the rock of the Church, denied the Messiah three times. Tell us that Pilate washed his hands of the truth. something we are often tempted to do. Mostly, though, turn us towards God hanging on the cross. That is what the world does to the holy. Where the cities of God and Man intersect, there is a crucifixion... A story needs a storyteller, and it is the Church alone that tells the story of salvation. Here in the Church is where the cities of Man and God meet, and that is why all the real spiritual battles, the most exciting adventure stories, begin here. We know that death will continue to break our hearts and our bodies, but it's not the end of the story. Because of all the stories competing for our attention, the story of the City of God is the only one worth living, and dying, for."

The Church as a place where the cities of God and Man (sic) meet. An old city with crumbling walls and peeling paint and holes in the roof. But a city that we are being given to rebuild. But not to raze it to the ground and start again putting up modern concrete boxes with no respect for the past. No, we need to listen to the stories of the old women and men sitting in the evening warmth. We need to hear how it was in it's heigh-day and why it was so grand and why people came from all over to visit and adore. We need to rebuild with respect for the past but incorporating the knowledge we have now. And we need to keep telling the stories.

I am looking after mum's dog at the moment while she has a rest up in Finzean. Jack, for that is his name, likes to lie at the french windows and watch things happening in the garden. Jack also likes to lie in my study just beside my chair so that I am frightened to move it and run over his tail. I end up typing from the desk next to my computer at an angle of 45 degrees. Jack likes to sniff everything when we go out for a walk so my plans of getting fit by having brisk walks in the morning and evening are not coming to fruition as we stop and start all the way along to the park. And Jack lies and watches me with his head on his paws when I am getting dressed. I can't tell what his expression is but I fear that he is not impressed.

I think I shall take Jack to church tomorrow. He could do with some spiritual nourishment.

I have become the proud owner of a Digital Radio and what a joy it is. I love BBC 7. Wonderful Alan Bennet Talking Heads this morning. I fear I shall never leave my study now. (Maybe then it will get tidied!)

Have just finished reading Some Bitter Taste by Magdalen Nabb. It is a crime thriller set in Florence which must have been why I bought it. It was a good mystery as mysteries go but made all the more interesting because of the glimpses of life in Firenze. As the blurb on the back says:
'Magdalen Nabb's books are set in a Florence so vividly brought to life that I long to go back there after reading each one.'

Oh me too.

Today I had an assistant for my sermon. As it was Family Service day and our Teddy Bear's Picnic at church, I took along Pius Puffin and Sooty to help me with my preaching. Sooty actually did the sermon with a little bit of translating from me (he was very shy and would only whisper in my ear - when I remembered). I found that he was very good at nodding his head 'yes' but not so hot at shaking his head 'no'. There's a moral there somewhere. (And I take my hat off to Matthew Corbett. It is not as easy as it looks.)

At St C's we had about 14 children which is a lot for us and it was great. Noisy in times but very lively and many teddies were in evidence. There was even a purple one but it was hard not to show favouritism. One of the grannies had a spotty leopard teddy which had been given by her grandson when her husband went into hospital to give her someone to cuddle in bed at night. Most of them came to the altar rail at communion for a blessing. And there was me worrying about praying for Georgia's goldfish who had died yesterday.

Ovee the past few days I have discovered spam on this blog from 2 companies. One is for Poker online and the other is for Strip Poker online. Today I got eight such messages which I then have to delete from my blog and it is such a pain. I have emailed Blog. co.uk but no reply yet as to how to stop this pest.

Why do people do this? I suppose it's like people who create viruses for computers. I just don't understand it. But it makes me angry and makes me feel like giving up this blog stuff if it's going to keep happening. What happens when it gets more offensive? Will my parishioners think that I have nefarious hobbies? Would that please or dismay them? Flipping nuisance. Bah!

Day off today so No 2 son and I went to Stirling. Did the shops first and found a rather fetching purple handbag. Like I need another purple handbag.

Then we went to the castle for a bit of culture. It was our first time and I have to say I was pretty impressed. Saw some wonderful tapestries being made but there were lots of signs up saying we weren't to speak to the woman who was sewing or weaving or whatever you do to make tapestries. So nobody spoke to her but everybody spoke about her and what she was doing behind her back which I would imagine was just as off-putting as an actual conversation.

Not sure what I thought of the Chapel Royal. There was an altar with 2 candlesticks and that was about it for holy atmosphere. This was one of the last places where catholics could worship once upon a time, and the Pope has given his blessing upon it - so why not make it a little more holy looking? There were some painted friezes around the top of the walls but I couldnt make out the symbolism of them but they didnt look like they were spiritually significant. Should have bought the guide-book.

Last night my youngest son came out to stay and we watched Inside I'm Dancing. He works for Standard Life and they gave it an award at last year's Edinburgh International Film Festival. It was excellent and very funny but in an uncomfortable way. The film is about 2 men (one with muscular dystrophy and the other with cerebral palsy) who leave their home for the disabled and move into their own flat.

I remember hearing reviews of this film last year and I seem to recall that critics said that it was wonderful but that they wished the two lead actors had actually been disabled. However they were utterly believable and very funny. A must-see film and one I shall do with my little church group.

As many of my friends and family know, I am a city girl. Not really a country lover except from the confines of a speeding car or luxury coach. However, as I have got older I seem to be drawn to the Scottish countryside in awe and wonder.

On some of these trips I have been amazed at the paraphernalia (?sp)that people take on their trips to the countryside. Binoculars, extraordinary cameras, trousers that have unlimited pockets and zips at the knee to transform them into shorts when the sun peeps out, hats of various hews and design, and my very favourite... the pocket knife. Just when you think you'll never get that stone out of a horse's hoof, or that bottle of wine open, some smart aleck will produce their little Swiss Army Penknife and oblige with a flourish. Oh how I have envied those organised friends!

But no more! Oh no! Today I have ordered my very own gadget, but mine is going to be much better. My Miss Army Knife will cater for all my needs for it contains: penknife, corkscrew, bottle opener, mirror, tweezers, nail file, safety pin, pill box and perfume bottle. How handy is that? Surely there is nothing that will faze me in the countryside ever again. I shall be up there with the big boys.

You too can order the Miss A Kit from www.hqhair.com . You know you want to!

Did another quiz today at www.quizfarm.com to see what religion suits me best. It would appear that Christianity is the one for me. Thank God! We'd be in big trouble if it hadn't been. Surprised at my high level for Buddhism bearing in mind the spider that got squished last night.

I wonder if the band U2 are called 'vous aussi' in France?

Next Sunday is our Family Service, and it is also our Teddy Bear's picnic at St Columba's. I don't have a teddy any more but I do have a fluffy puffin (called Pius) and Sooty and Sweep glovepuppets. What I would like to do is incorporate them somehow into my sermon. But the gospel reading for next Sunday is Matt 16:21-28. Anyone got any ideas?

This is the church at Glenfinnan. Gorgeouso.

Lovely to be back this morning amongst my little flock. We had a marriage blessing at St Peter's so there were lots of visitors, but no hats which was a pity. I do like hats, but not on me. Judy wrote a special hymn for the occasion and it went down well.

Low numbers at St Columba's but we made a lively noise. Joe did us proud with the last hymn which we hadn't sung before - 'From the very depths of darkness' to the tune of the Battle Hymn. He gave it big licks so there were lots of smiles which doesn't happen often enough when singing hymns.

Then off to an outdoor party for the aforementioned marriage blessing. It was nice to get the chance to talk to some of the visitors who had been in church.

Just back from a few days away with a friend in Arisaig. We had all kinds of west-coast weather but mostly rain and mist and midges. The highlights might have been Marine World in Mallaig (10 large fish tanks with a few crabs and prawns and a very shy small octopus in a rusty shed), or the golden sands of Morar which were quite muddy and not so golden really, or the lack of fresh seafood on the menu in our hotel which couldn't have been closer to the sea, or the Jacobite monument at Glenfinnan which was spoiled by the presence of a large white tent beside it for reasons unknown.

But I think the real highlights were the little churches we found on our travels:
St Mary & St Finnan at Glenfinnan designed by E Welby Pugin (son of A Welby Pugin) with a glorious window and a view to die for;
2 well-cared-for RC churches in Arisaig and Mallaig where we lit candles;
St Andrew's in Fort William which was a real gem with baptistry and tiles to adore and doors copied from the baptistry doors in Florence (and noisy Italian tourists to match);
and St Bride's, Onich with its fading beauty and grave of Bishop Chinnery Haldane.
It was so lovely to find churches open and welcoming to visitors of all faiths and none. So it was disappointing to find St John's, Ballachulish and St Angus, Lochearnhead locked and not even a keyholder mentioned.

Didn't see any puffins or minke whales (whatever they are), but my friend did buy me a fluffy puffin whom we have named Pius Puffin. He is dangerously cute.

So, back to work tomorrow, refreshed and renewed and ready to share lots of tales of my foray into the countryside in my sermons in the weeks to come. I know my little flock will expect nothing less.

I have now watched Chicago - am I the last person on this planet to do so? It was really good and I'd love to see it on stage.

Also watched A Life Less Ordinary with Ewan Mcgregor and Cameron Diaz which was sweet but disappointing. Ewan had very weird hair in it which I couldn't take my eyes off so that rather spoilt it a bit.

I should have been away on holiday last week but for various reasons it didn't happen. So yesterday I should have been worshipping elsewhere but found myself at home wondering where I was going to go. Just for a change I decided to go home to my old stomping ground in Edinburgh - St Michael and All Saints. Did I say stomping? That should have read 'gliding' which is all we altar servers were allowed to do in the sanctuary.

As it is the Edinburgh Festival just now my home parish puts on Festival Masses with full choir and occasionally a small orchestra. Yesterday it was Haydn's Nelson Mass and it was glorious. The preacher was the Rev'd Michael Sean Paterson, late of Westcott College, Cambridge and now stuck in Stonehaven. He was very good and preached about the Festival and managed to link it to the Assumption of the BVM which is no mean feat.

The strange thing is that there were more clergy in the congregation than in the sanctuary. So I am not alone, it would seem, in being drawn to Spikey Mike's when on holiday. Lovely to get a 'fix'.

Have just finished reading Breathing, I Pray by Ivan Mann. I met Ivan last week when I was leading my little flock on their first silent retreat on Cumbrae. I had heard about his book and read a good review of it in the Church Times so I decided to buy a copy for myself. I am so glad I did. It was an easy read with a lot of personal experience in it, which I like in a book. Got lots of stuff for my Quotes Journal too. Wish I'd read it before I wrote my retreat on prayer.

Came across this poem/prayer today in an old copy of The Tablet. It's by James Dillet Freeman (b1912). I like it.

Do you need me? I am there.
You cannot see Me, yet I am the light you see by.
You cannot hear Me, yet I speak through your voice.
You cannot feel Me, yet I am the power at work in your hands.
I am at work, though you do not understand My ways.
I am not strange visions. I am not mysteries.
Only in absolute stillness, beyond self, can you know Me as I am,
and then but as a feeling and a faith.
Yet I am there. Yet I hear. Yet I answer.
When you need Me, I am there.
Even when you feel most alone, I am there.
Even in your fears, I am there.
Even in your pain, I am there.
Though you fail to find me, I do not fail you.
Though your faith in Me is unsure, my faith in you never wavers.
Because I know you, because I love you.
Beloved, I am there.

Have just finished reading Karen Armstrong's The Spiral Staircase and it was excellent. I started it on retreat last week but didn't really have time to get in to it properly so it has been nice this week to have a couple of long stretches to just read. Many years ago I read her first memoir Through the Narrow Gate and I remember loving it. However this is much better and answers a lot of questions I am having at the moment about faith and religion. For me, it was full of 'aha' and 'yes!' moments. Highly recommended.

On holiday this week and was meant to go away but that has been put on hold as my mum was rushed into hospital with a suspected heart attack. Tempted to lie around all day catching up on reading but I know from experience that if I do that I won't feel as if I've had a holiday. So today I went into Edinburgh to get some culture. Ha!

First of all the traffic was hellish. Nose to tail all the way in to town. Weather forecast was cloudy with rain - so we got sweltering heat. Walked along Princes Street dodging foreign tourists all suddenly stopping and gazing heavenward like they've never seen a castle before.

The National Gallery had an exhibition on called Gauguin's Vision and it seemed to contain some religious pieces so I decided it would be worth forking out the £6.50 entrance fee. How mistaken I was. There were about 3 Gauguin's and a few others from contemporaries, with a couple on the theme of somebody wrestling with an angel. Oh, and Breton hats featured heavily. All in 3 small rooms and pretty disappointing. I hope that visitors didn't think that this was all we have to offer.

Wandered off to have a look around the rest of the gallery and found out to my disappointment that my favourite painting is not on show (John Duncan's St Bride). Come on folks! Get the Scottish artists out when we have all these visitors.

One good thing - the gallery shop had a sale on and lots of stuff with Phoebe Traquair's 'The Progress of a Soul' so I bought a new mouse mat and a journal.

Wandered round the Craft Fair, met Cat Outram and her sketches, and then came home. It occurred to me that if I put my mind to it I could produce some artwork just as good as some of those I saw. Maybe I shall do that this holiday.

...is a great film. Directed by Ken Loach and set in Glasgow, it is the story of love between an Asian man and a non-Asian teacher. It is funny and sad and didn't end how I expected it. Well worth watching.

Just had a wonderful four days on the Isle of Cumbrae staying at the newly refurbished Cathedral of the Isles. I must say it has improved a lot since I was last there. I had a large room with a double bed and two single beds and en-suite facilities (a shower that blew your head off but at least you knew your hair was rinsed). Mind you, I could have done with a desk and a chair in my room for seeing folk. I'm not sure how good boundaries can be when you are both lounging on single beds.

My little flock seemed to enjoy their first experience of a silent retreat and the feedback was very good. Some didn't even want the silence to end. And I think all of our prayer lives have improved. They were very kind to me at the end of it all.

Came back home last night tired and emotional so went to bed. Today I had to put back all the stuff I had taken with me - rosaries, icons, bibles, books and the kitchen sink. Decided to tidy my study from all the stuff that was abandoned to the floor before I went away and was half way through it all when the doorbell rang. I had completely forgotten my lunch time meeting with our Diocesan CMD Officer. He looked at my track suit and face-without-makeup and raised an eyebrow but was very polite and said nothing. I confessed to having forgotten all about it, but quickly changed and off we went to Marynka's for a lovely lunch.

Back to earth, right enough.