I preached in three of the six churches of the Local Ministry Group to which I am licensed yesterday, which is the most I've managed in one day so far.
Survived Holy Communion at Wraxall where a friendly and largely sympathetic congregation coped with the obvious lack of sincerity in my bowing. A visiting organist played a random chunk of a sung eucharist in the middle of the eucharistic prayer unexpectedly. Perhaps she was dreaming of higher things. When I apologised to various members of the congregation afterwards over coffee that I had not expected a sung response they all said, 'Neither had we.' This made me feel a little less of an ass.
On up the hill to Failand where twelve of us shared communion in the side-chapel of an enormous church. The main part of the building has quite the best acoustics in the Local Ministry Group and probably the most spacious church but in almost exactly the wrong place if you want people to be there.
Then on to Holy Trinity in the evening.
Pretty drained today but started with two assemblies. Nothing like a bunch of five year olds to keep you on your toes. They looked as if they hadn't got a clue what I was on about but at least they did it quietly and respectfully. Got invited back so it can't have been that bad.
With apologies to all the congregations from yesterday here is the story of the week from last week. I received a text message from my older son:
Hiya don't panic...
But I'm in hospital.
I poisoned myself.
Ate what I thought was an onion but it was a daffodfil bulb.
Doctors say I'll be out in the spring.