The Weekend

After a week of running to stand still, and just about managing to keep up with the hectic teaching schedule, but without any train wrecks [thankfully] dawn running is exactly what happened yesterday. Whatever the intense mystery of the pre-dawn dark [and it's still pitch black when I return home, let alone set out], to run into the clarity of the newly risen sun was fantastic. I also discovered Goathurst, Robin Hood's Hut and the Temple of Harmony; for some reason I had never noticed them in the dark. See www.quantockonline.co.uk/quantocks/villages/goathurst/goathurst1.html for photos.

And I've cut down the hedge [you can see out from the terrace] and gone to a Scout Training [which began with a an out of date video on Changes in Scouting!] and even managed to paint! Then there have been fires and wine and food and chocolate brownies and 'stuck in the mud' and all of the other staples of a family weekend.

Back to school tomorrow.

Against the tide

Amidst the mists of the valley,
the roar of the motorway
the haze of the newly risen sun,
the river was at flood tide
and flowing upstream.

Fifteen miles from the coast
the current was strong,
forcing the river against its nature;
flowing upstream.

I only see it once or twice a month [usually consectutive days], but each time it is amazing and transforms the Parrott from a muddy trickle to a powerful river.
And as with running through pitch black woods, there is a certain parallel with the rollacoaster ride of learning to teach.

Unity of the Spirit...

Even the true Welsh castles, Criccieth, Dolbardarn, Dolwyddelan, built by Llewellan the Great and Llewellan the Last, brood over their valleys and coastlines. The Edwardian fortresses, the English castles of the conquest, Conway [pictured], Harlech, Caernarfon and Beaumauris are in a different league; as fine a feat of medieval engineering and archicecture as any buildings in the country.

In contrast, the ancient churches are small, even the great church of Towyn or the cathedral at Bangor are low, sturdy buildings; there is within them a great sense of holiness and history, but they do not have the majesty or magnificence of Durham or Salisbury. Yet however humble the churches of Beddgelert [pictured] and so many other Welsh towns and villages, they are still alive and loved.

So often, after a holiday in Wales there is a thought that remains with me, echoing around my head. In 2009 is was a phrase from a sermon at St Catherine's, Criccieth, 'for Mary, saying yes to God was almost unbearable' [tough, of course, 'unbearable', that was a new thought]. This year is was the realisation that, however small, the churches of Gwynedd are still whole and alive. In contrast the great castles, powerhouses of their nations and their kings, lasted only a few centuries before being reduced to ruins; and ruins they remain. The parishes of the Church in Wales still struggle, as they have struggled down the ages, yet they remain as faithful witness to worship and service though the ages, a living contrast to the ruined fortresses.

There hasn't been much that has surprised me about teaching full time, it has been and continues to be an incredibly steep learning curve, but I'd expected most of it. Yet one thing about a school staff team that I hadn't fully articulated, even to myself, before this term was how incredibly united it could be. There is a very strong unity of purpose, a desire to help, to say yes, to do anything possible to support the children. Even though there are differing theories and different models of teaching, even though there are contrasting personalities, still it works and it is a pleasure to work within such a community.

And then there was a meeting of a number of parishes which I chaired last week where we strugged to agree even why were were meeting, let along whether we should meet again. They were and are good people, but there was tragically little unity of purpose or Spirit. Just as that can also be lacking in individual churches, and, to be fair, in some schools as well.

For all of our faith and faithfulness, the church seems to stuggle to hold together, to serve joyfully to maintain the bond of peace. Those that are 'at one' seem, tragically, to be the exceptions. But, whether struggling within themselves or united, these churches whose representatives I met last week have, just like the churches of Gwynedd, continued to worship and serve through the generations.