Skip to main content

Loser?

My son has had a rubbish week (and I am being polite in my use of words here). He's in the run up to his AS levels and may be forced to miss some of them because of a freak chain of injuries that ultimately have left him needing major reconstructive surgery on his right shoulder - and yes he is right handed. He's having an MRI this morning in preparation for that, but even before the full extent of his injury became clear he was having a hard time getting any kind of a fair deal from the examinations board, probably making his road to his preferred profession (ironically medicine) a much more protracted one.
And in the light of that NOTHING else that I have to deal with is a priority... (so if you are expecting some form or report off me in the next few days - forget it!)
Indeed there is nothing else that I can do or achieve in this life that compares with the honour and duty of being the father to my two boys... That became even clearer today as I talked to a girl whose husband had just walked out on her and her infant son... 
And it brought to mind the closing scene of the film I watched with my eldest son and wife earlier in the week... Brad Pitt's "Moneyball", which is well worth watching even if you aren't a baseball (or Brad Pitt) fan. 
What follows is an out and out spoiler, especially if you watch the following clip... In it, Brad Pitt's character, Billy Beane, is reflecting on a tumultuous season, where he bucked the system, challenged long established records, and ultimately was offered one of the biggest jobs in baseball. But he does so to the soundtrack of his daughter, who lives with his estranged wife, singing a cover of Lenka's "The Show" - helping him sort out his priorities...
Enjoy the show... 




 Selah

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And by that

Psalm for Harvest Sunday

A short responsive psalm for us as a call to worship on Harvest Thanksgiving Sunday, and given that it was pouring with rain as I headed into church this morning the first line is an important remembrance that the rain we moan about is an important component of the fruitfulness of the land we live in: You tend the land and water it And the earth produces its abundance. You crown each year with your bounty, and our storehouses overflow with your goodness. The mountain meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are filled with corn; Your people celebrate your boundless grace They shout for joy and sing. from Psalm 65

Anointed

There has been a lot of chatter on social media among some of my colleagues and others about the liturgical and socio-political niceties of Saturday's coronation and attendant festivities, especially the shielding of the anointing with the pictured spoon - the oldest and perhaps strangest of the coronation artefacts. Personally I thought that was at least an improvement on the cloth of gold canopy used in the previous coronation, but (pointless) debates are raging as to whether this is an ancient practice or was simply introduced in the previous service to shield the Queen from the TV cameras, not for purposes of sacredness, but understandable coyness, if she actually had to bare her breast bone in puritan 1950s Britain. But as any church leader knows, anything performed twice in a church becomes a tradition. All this goes to show that I did actually watch it, while doing other things - the whole shooting match from the pre-service concert with yer wumman in that lemon-