Sunday, March 21, 2021

St. Zoom- land

 

A parody loosely based on  Pam Ayres’ ‘Nowadays we worship at St. Tescos’

 



Nowadays we worship at St Zoom – land,

At first the members felt quite shocked.

But then St. Zoom’s doors are always open,

Whereas Penuel’s are very sadly locked. 😕

 

We already know the congregation,

And  the Pastor we feel is very brave.

It hasn’t got a SÊt Fawr nor a pulpit,

But it has got several windows….

AND we can wave …………..!  ðŸ‘‹ðŸ‘‹ðŸ‘‹ðŸ‘‹

 

I’m so glad to be at St. Zoom – land,

I’m so happy to be sitting in my chair.

Whilst the Pastor was always stood up so straightly,

He now sits upright in his desk chair.

 

His uniform is far from dreary,

He often sits there in his shorts, ðŸ˜ą ðŸ˜ģ

Harmonious tunes come down through You Tube.

Although the ads can make things  fraught.

 

I often dream that I’m sat in Penuel,

In that lovely wooden polished pew,

I can still smell the hand sanitiser,

As I’m sure you can …… well  can you ? 🧐

 

Today, no lights twinkle in Penuel’s window,

Yet business is booming at St. Zoom.

It’s getting such a throng on Sunday mornings

That we wonder if we’ve got enough room.

 

Yet the day will surely come at Penuel,

If you believe in the Almighty’s plan.

That one day we shall return to Penuel.

For now, it’s Thank God for St. Zoom. Amen 🙏 

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“Anyone who thinks sitting in Church can make you a Christian must also think that sitting in a garage can make you a car – Garrison Keillor”


Sunday, October 27, 2019

Duw. Cariad yw.


Three simple words trs. God is Love .

I spotted this in the vestry of Penuel Chapel, made by the children there in Clwb y Plant.



It reminded me of the mini - me , aged only three being pushed up by mam into the SÊt Fawr with the bigger children, (bigger in size I mean, unlike the little dwt that I always was)  ......to say my Verse out loud . 

But the thing was, I knew no verse so heard mam whisper, and watched intently as she mimed it out to me from the congregation. ...... along with many other miming mams . In fact the cacophony  of whispering and miming  mams made for a terrifying sight and sound to mini-me, aged only three .....

Anyhow, I said it. Job done.... by mini-me, aged only three 

Job done? Oh no, it was the beginning of a great love affair, although the term ‘love affair’ could in this day and age be misconstrued. Like most lovers we had many tiffs and quarrels all along the way, but one thing I was always certain of is that I’d be forgiven because don’t Love and Forgiveness go hand in hand? 



Although I’d better add that it’s not a Carte Blanche to go and Sin for the Sake of it !  ....

.




Friday, October 25, 2019

A bird's eye view




I was sat watching this buzzard, albeit a captive one, soaring on the thermals the other day at The British Birds of Prey Centre



and was reminded of the following  lines from the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach

“The trick was for Jonathan to stop seeing himself inside a limited body that had a 42” wingspan and performance which can be plotted on a chart…. 
The trick was to know that his true nature lived as perfect as an unwritten number, everywhere at once, across space and time.” 
….” Your whole body from wingtip to wingtip is nothing more than your thought itself in a form you see…..break the chains of your thought and you will break the chains of your body too.”

I got to thinking,  if there was just the one person with MS ( Multiple Sclerosis) that I could help change the mindset of into one like this ( which is how I see things myself ) then I’d be one happy bunny.


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The only disability in life is a bad attitude ~ Anon 






Thursday, October 24, 2019

The Polyglot

(an excerpt from my book, Stumbling Along - a Journey with the Master of Surprises (c) 2006)

Wasn’t ‘dropsy’ a name for TB or consumption in the last century?  One particular week in the autumn of 2004 saw me declaring it a new name for an all too common MS symptom, so I entered it into the “E.R.  Domestic Dictionary for PwMS” (People with MS) 

I’m not quite decided as to just how much of my cognition problems are down to age, my MS or just purely being dumb.🙄     For example, Steffan had a girlfriend once who became almost a permanent fixture in our house but d’you think I could ever remember her name?  What is more, to make matters even more embarrassing, I’m talking of a long-term relationship here, not a casual two-minute fling.  I ended up calling her “wotsherface” every time I mentioned her - in her absence I hasten to add.  It’s a good way of alienating your son, I can assure you!

I have my own vocabulary these days which only Huw understands; it consists not just of verbal utterances but also of much gesticulating, muttering and pacing up and down, waving my arms in Manuel of Fawlty Towers mode.





The most catholic of entries in the "ER Domestic Dictionary for PwMS’"is ‘thingy’.  I find myself losing a word in mid-sentence and ‘thingy’ is one which is used quite extensively and is usually accompanied by a finger or nodding head even, pointing in the direction of wherever the object is. 




It’s also one which slithers off the tongue quite comfortably, unlike words containing the letter “R”.  I worked in the Land Registry for seven years where we dealt with work in Shropshire.  It’s a standing joke that I can’t roll my rrrrrr’s in true Welsh Tradition, but stick an ess-aitch (sh) in front of an “arrr” and my soft palate becomes Loctited™ to my hard palate. Phoning Local Authorities proved to be ‘interesting’…. ðŸĪĶ‍♀️

This reminds me of the following joke…

“Doctor, Doctor, I can’t pronounce my F’s, T’s and H’s.”
“Well you can’t say, Fairer Than That, Then.”

So this is what caused me to enter ‘dropsy’ into the “ER, Domestic Dictionary for PwMS”………………

The whole of family life revolves around the kitchen in many homes, but ours is too small in which to sit around the table, so it’s not exactly the hub of the  universe here.  Despite this, it’s a source of many a tale of despair and laughter.

I’ve always loved cooking and eating (just call me Nigella, but never call me Delia)


However, culinary activities are getting more and more tricky as the journey continues due to hands which are as rebellious as a testosterone-riddled teenager; they simply refuse to listen when I tell them to do something.  I’m sure that many a mum and MSer reading this are now nodding their heads in agreement like the nodding dog in a certain car insurance advert.

Picture an all too familiar scene; you’ve grabbed hold of a pan full of hot food straight off the cooker and when you try to put it down you find your hand still wrapped around it and you can’t let go.

So you’re screeching for your ever-patient husband, who is usually out of hearing distance, or in our case, he’s totally engrossed in the footie on telly, to come and slide the handle gently out of your hand - heaven  forbid that he may try to straighten your hand because it jolly well HURTS! 

The opposite to that scenario is when you just drop everything you try to grasp and even worse again are moments when you could swear that something has jumped off the surface without you ever getting as far as touching it.

I can remember one particular revolt on the part of my hands quite clearly; I can close my eyes and see the picture unfold as if in slow motion.  There it was, a shallow glass dish which has a plastic lid which you can put in the freezer, microwave, dishwasher etc.  In fact, you can put it anywhere except in your rebellious and revolting hands.

One minute I was looking at it, the next minute there it was – smashed into smithereens on the floor!  At times like these I’ve never been too sure whether to ring Poltergeists Anonymous or Ghostbusters because I swear this must be a paranormal experience of the MS kind, though I doubt whether incidents like this have ever been documented. After all these years I no longer shout “Hu-uw!” I shout “Broken glass alert!!!!!  Shut the dog in the lounge!!  Kick the cats out!!  Glass - broken!!  Smashed Glass!!!  Glass everywhere!!” 

Would you think that anyone who does not have MS would suspect I have a histrionic personality ?  Because when I realised I couldn’t be heard, the profanities started to emanate from my ever-so-tender, gentle and delicate female lips. 👞

I was swearing so much that I wasn’t concerned about the whole of the street hearing but I was living in fear of the late Mary Whitehouse appearing and declaring me to be unfit to be a minister’s wife let alone teacher of Sunday School children as was one of my many pleasurable duties at that time.

H: (finally) “I heard.  Stop shouting.  Right – you get out of the way and I’ll clean it up.  I can see better than you can and when you cut yourself you always almost bleed to death.”  It’s true - I could write a tale or twenty about ‘bleeding’ experiences.

Two evenings later Huw was in a rush to get out to a meeting so he dished up his food whilst I was doing something else.  I told him not to worry about mine because I could dish it up myself.  Could I?  Pffff! 

I put my rice on my plate and how this happened I really don’t know, but the serving spoon jumped clean out of the saucepan along with half its contents. There was Prawnthingumywotsit  everywhere; on the floor, all over myself, all over the kitchen, in fact the whole kitchen looked redder than my face.  It was fortunate that Dog was in the other room or he would have ended up looking like a bloodied bandage!

I don’t have a stock phrase for such an event so it a was zillion decibel-ed, “Aaarrgghhhhh!” (Not bad, I thought, considering I’d lost my voice because of a cold.)

H:        Came running, “Do you have to screech?”

E:         Croaking …..   “I’m only doing a bit of self-
            expression.”

H:        “Well you should have given up self-expression
            at your age.  You should have got it all out of
            your system years ago.”

E:         ????????????????????   (speechless for once)

Needless to say, Huw cleaned up after me once again and was late for his meeting.




Friday, October 18, 2019

The Gift of Friendship

A little ditty that I came up with a few years ago ...


                                                 Precious!
                                      The gift of friendship.  
                                      Delicate and fragile;
                                      The porcelain figure
                                      Precariously held in my hands.



                                       Timeless!
                                       The gift of friendship.
                                       Gracious and God-given;
                                       The cloud’s silver lining
                                       And the twinkle in my eye.


                                       Treasured!
                                       The gift of friendship.
                                       Diamond-studded, glittering;
                                       The brooch on my lapel
                                       And the heart on my sleeve.



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A friend is one who overlooks your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden😎 



Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Home Comforts



When you’re practically living out of a suitcase or overnight bag, the simple things such as having your own cuppa sat by your own desk have a certain appeal......


Even better is the joy of sleeping in your own bed but before that, relaxing in it and drifting off listening to Classic FM Radio .

I usually listen to it via my Roberts Radio next to my desk but seen here on a casual table shortly after I opened it – a welcome birthday present from Huw a few years ago. 


However our home has recently been infiltrated by  a virtual Amazonian goddess known as  ALEXA


 ‘It’  ( for  I refuse to sex it being an inanimate  object ) is only as good as your Wi Fi coverage.
So to bed ........and breathe...





accompanied by the soothing sounds of “it” playing Taverner's Lamb..





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Come to me, all  you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ...”

Sunday, October 06, 2019

For as ye sow, shall ye reap


Subtitled: the Worm that Turned.


The worm in question is this boi bach.....



He was nicknamed that by Huw, not only because he was constantly on the move as a toddler and still is, I might add, but he wriggled and wriggled and jiggled inside me for 6 ½ months...... plus.


None of this “Oohh, ouch  I felt my baby kick” that I’d hear friends groan and grumble about, but relentlessly, wiggling and jiggling inside my ever increasing tummy. A joyful feeling albeit slightly worrying.

Worm will turn 35 tomorrow, or you could say today seeing as it’s Harvest Sunday ( well not quite because this year the elders  changed the date of Cwrdd Diolchgarwch in Penuel)

All said and done, the first Sunday in October will always be the day I say Thank You to the Almighty for the gift of life He bestowed on us.

‘Course there has been the odd occasion when I haven’t attended a Harvest Service due to illness, often named Sabbath-itis by my very lovely dad in law (R.G. as he was known in ministerial circles, but Dick ðŸ˜ģ by my mum in law .) I never knew whether or not it was a tease by him or what.

Today, was no exception and off I went to Penuel  with rose tinted spectacled memories of being in the Labour Ward at Morriston Hospital, huffing and puffing and doing my breathing, or trying to at least.

All of a sudden there came a familiar noise from the corridor. It was The Salvation Army Band booming out “We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land …..”

Fast forward to many long laborious hours later, I found myself surrounded by medics of all sorts, and as I was being wheeled off for an emergency C – Section, a nurse shouted over the heads of everyone else, “Mr. Robertssssss! Your mother is on the phone asking how long you’ll be. Your dinner is in the oven!” To which my usually patient and polite Huw irreverently snapped back, “Tell her that we’ve got an over cooked bun in our oven!”

 *cringe..🙈....

Today’s Morning Service was conducted in a more civil and reverend manner by Y Bugail, HG Roberts but I daren’t ever catch his eye during Holy Communion because we remember that day..... fondly


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Busy counting blessings -----umm, not enough fingers though 😉