Encouraging Noises

It’s Harvest time. A super all-age act of worship at the main church, with lots of people; kids in the band, including the newly confirmed; real bread and real wine for the eucharist for a change (Anglicans don’t usually use real bread; Methodists shy away from real wine); super shared lunch afterwards. “You don’t need me to tell you that was a lovely service,” said one of our ministry team afterwards. “Actually, I do,” I replied.

This was the first Sunday for four weeks that someone hasn’t had a go at me about something, usually the recently introduced nave altar that the older ones hate, or else some other thing. I long ago gave up imagining I could please anyone all the time, but maybe I can’t please a lot of them any of the time. This causes me some stress, mainly because I never know when I’m going to get the comeback; I never know which of the people I greet kindly as they leave church, or say hello to in the street, or telephone on some matter or other, is going to have a go at me about something or other, cutting me dead, or wagging a finger in my face and telling me what for. I think of witty reposts that I could never actually use, such as “It’s your turn to be upset this week; next week it’ll be someone else’s turn”. Mainly I smile thinly and sigh inwardly.