Under the Surface

“My name is Mrs Kitson and I personally disapproved of this message”

“My name is Mrs Kitson and I personally disapproved of this message”

We are being surrounded by pictures of icebergs right now. The denial of climate change and the media’s attempts to convey the seriousness of the situation involves showing us lots of images of them, alongside hungry polar bears and glacial shrinkage. In more innocent times glacial shrinkage was the term for the feeling one gets on being given “the look” by a grandparent when you make too much noise in church or forget to say please or thank you. Honestly, I think I’d feel more personal motivation to combat global warming if the News channel just showed a picture of my middle school teacher, looking at me disapprovingly over the top of her half moon spectacles with cold inner fury, and rapping out my full name in piercing stoccato.

The shots of icebergs though, I find, are too beautiful and majestic - even when they are shrinking - to evoke any feeling of impending doom on me though, which I assume is the intention. But when you look at the underside of an iceberg the view is infinitely more disquieting. It’s so often the case that the stuff below the surface is more telling than that which is easily visible. For instance, I have a friend who works for a non-profit agency and has to go to various council and business meetings and attempt to garner financial support for her project. She tells me that for several hours prior to a meeting she will drink lots of water and will not allow herself to use the washroom. She says doing this lends passion and urgency to a speech she has given many times, which would otherwise come across as pretty unspectacular. I admire her commitment - but I wonder how things will play out later in life. She’s only in her twenties right now and I can’t help but think she may live to regret this approach as time rolls by. But for now, apparently, she’s extremely successful in securing funds.

The reason I’m going on about all this stuff is because my to do list is now three pages long. Obviously some tasks are more urgent than others but still, it just goes to show how wrong we can be when looking ahead. I thought, and I think this every year, that all would be quiet at All Saints during the post Christmas lull, that I would be able to catch up on some long put-off filing, tidying and re-organisation. NO. It turns out there’s A LOT coming up in the next few months ie church clean-up day, community dinners, Messy Church, fellowship groups, St Patrick’s Day dinner, Annual Vestry meeting, pancake supper, ash Wednesday, lent and Holy Week services …. the list goes on and on! And yet when we walk into Church on a Sunday all is calm, peaceful, serene and beautiful. It’s amazing how much activity goes into achieving such tranquility.

The moment after being asked how I fill 16 hours at work.

The moment after being asked how I fill 16 hours at work.

Note for those unable to take hints: Just in case you’re wondering why I bothered writing such a pointless blurb it’s because we need you. We need your time, your hands, your brain and your passion for following Jesus to make all this stuff happen. Never think “there’s not much going on at a Church during the week” (as someone foolishly said to me this week while enquiring how on earth I can fill 16 hours a week here - rest assured, he will NEVER say that again). This place is full of people quietly beavering away in the background and we need you too.

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