The Virtual Maundy Thursday Labyrinth

Many churches partake in a ‘Labyrinth’ on Maundy Thursday. People are invited to walk through pathways, usually in a church/hall, and pause at certain ‘stations’ to contemplate on Jesus’ journey through this day.

Well, I cannot get out to a church, and I reckon a fair few of you can’t, either. So instead of going to the Labyrinth, I’m attempting to bring the Labyrinth to you. And to me. I hope that your journey through this virtual Labyrinth brings you the peace and time of reflection on this Maundy Thursday that you crave. I don’t know about you, but my Facebook feed makes me feel sad on days like these, sad because once again, I am on the outside looking in, I am the excluded one, I am the one not caught up in the busyness and the creativity and the community of all that Holy Week can bring.

But why should I be on the outside looking in? I have decided to turn the perspective around, to no longer dwell on all that cannot be, to find instead the fullness of what this day can bring. As I experience fairly hideous chest pain, surely I can turn this round to reflect on the hideous pain Jesus experienced – not only on the cross, but on that day before Good Friday?

So, here we are then. The Virtual Labyrinth.

A prayer labyrinth is not a maze, more of a journey with twists and turns, and no dead ends. There is only one way in, and one way out.

The winding path symbolizes a journey. As you negotiate the twists and turns take time to sink yourself into the mystery of Christ and his last days on earth. Think of the journey inwards to the centre as a time to let go of anything you need to let go of, the centre as a time to connect with God and the journey outwards as a time to take on the peace and protection you need to walk forwards into your life and to share that journey with others.

So we walk into the Labyrinth. We pause at the first bend where we think upon the Noise. The noise, the busyness of life, the fast paced race all around us (and sometimes not including us). Think about all the messages and information that fill our lives, competing for attention, clamouring in every day. Now is the time to turn the noise off, to pause, to shake it away.

We step forwards to another twist. We collect up our worries, our doubts, our grief, and our pain. Jesus says ‘come to me, all who are burdened, and I will give you rest.’ We lay our burdens down. You can visualise taking a bag from your shoulders and putting it on the floor, or taking off heavy shoes, or you can write down your worries on some paper and fold it up, not necessarily to throw away, but to put aside.

It may feel strange, this letting go, and not knowing what the path ahead holds. Try to trust the path, and to trust the God who you are seeking. We are taking steps, what takes place in our mind and spirit as authentic as anything our bodies can – or cannot – do.

We keep on walking, round corners, round twisting paths. Perhaps it would be helpful to begin to physically breathe in God’s presence. Slow down your breathing, and intentionally breathe out the remains of what you didn’t quite manage to leave behind at the last stop. Breathe out that niggling voice, that continuing pain. And breathe in God. Breathe out – Breathe in. Breathe out – Breathe in.

So we come to the centre. 

It’s time to sit down (I am sitting already, but taking a virtual comfy armchair in my head) and reflect.

Start by imagining a waterfall.

Psalm 42:7 says

‘Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls, all of your waves and breakers have swept over me.'

 Imagine immersing yourself in the waterfall, the rushing waters being God’s love, pouring over you, quenching your pain, cleaning your soul.

Then take this candle.

– imagine it’s the only light in the darkness. Live it, breathe it. You may want to light a ‘real’ candle at this point. Virtual is good though!

We think on these words from John 13.

^‘3 Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; ⁴ so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. ⁵ After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.’

Reflect on this verse and this image. Immerse yourself in the scene – in the sights and sounds. In the awe and mystery amidst the normalcy of the Passover Supper. Jesus is washing your feet. Perhaps you would like to take a bowl and gently wash your own feet at this stage.

There now follows a series of verses from these Maundy Thursday passages, from John 13 and Mark 14. We can take as much time as we need over each one, intentionally breathing in God’s presence as we take the words in. Each section is accompanied by an image to contemplate upon in addition to the words.

***

When evening came, Jesus arrived with the Twelve. ¹⁸ While they were reclining at the table eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.”
¹⁹ They were saddened, and one by one they said to him, “Surely you don’t mean me?”
²⁰ “It is one of the Twelve,” he replied, “one who dips bread into the bowl with me. ²¹ The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.”
²² While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.”
²³ Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it.
²⁴ “This is my blood of the^[c] covenant, which is poured out for many,” he said to them. ²⁵ “Truly I tell you, I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

^***

²⁸ But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”

²⁹ Peter declared, “Even if all fall away, I will not.”
³⁰ “Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “today—yes, tonight—before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times.”
³¹ But Peter insisted emphatically, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the others said the same.

^***

³² They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” ³³ He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ³⁴ “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.”

^***

³⁵ Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. ³⁶ “Abba,  Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

^***

³⁷ Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” he said to Peter, “are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? ³⁸ Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
³⁹ Once more he went away and prayed the same thing. ⁴⁰ When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. They did not know what to say to him.
⁴¹ Returning the third time, he said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Enough! The hour has come. Look, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. ⁴² Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!”

^***

⁴³ Just as he was speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared. With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders.
⁴⁴ Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” ⁴⁵ Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. ⁴⁶ The men seized Jesus and arrested him.

***

Are we able to watch with Jesus, this day and night? Can we, in the centre of this labyrinth, put aside our wants, desires, our very lives, to watch, to wait?

The centre of the Labyrinth. The centre of history.

***

When we are ready, we begin to walk out of the Labyrinth. We take with us our tears, our shame, our peace, all that we have found and experienced as we journeyed through. We keep breathing in God’s presence. We take the memory of Jesus washing feet and the waterfall of grace washing us clean.

We come to the place we laid down our fears, our worries, pain, doubt, grief. Perhaps we decide to pick up our folded piece of paper and keep it with us once again, yet with all that we have contemplated here superimposed upon it. The pain is with us, and yet so is the mystery. So is the waterfall, the breakers. So is the agonised Jesus. Where does that leave our pain?

So we take it upon us, and we take it outwards. We walk to the Noise again. Can we take less of it back upon ourselves than we came in with? Can we leave some of the messages, some of the script, shaken off at our feet as we leave? Can we replace it with all that we breathed in, and with the mourning that comes with the watching and waiting, for now? Can we see all the ground we walk upon as holy ground, as stepping out with all we have inside, as taking it with us?

We leave the Labyrinth.

So, who said we’re not able to join in? We’re far from the outside. We’re on the inside, looking out. We’re watching and waiting with Jesus, we’re holding our pain and we’re living in the great mystery of Maundy Thursday, today.

Amy's words

I'm a big fan of Amy Carmichael., a late 19th/early 20th century missionary who set up an orphanage in India, among many other things. Her story always resonates with me because she suffered from a nerve disease and then late in life had a fall which meant she was bedridden for many years. Despite this, her writings show that she was anything but bitter. If I could emulate anyone's spirit, it would be Amy's. She had a beautiful way of looking at things, a strong and certain faith and a grounding in gritty reality. I wanted to share something she wrote today, for all those who are feeling that their circumstances reduce them to a kind of uselessness or worthlessness. So Amy is guest blogging here at GreatAdventure :)

'You were like a leafy bush, and many little things came for you to shelter. You were not great or important, but you could help those little things.
And it was the joy of your life to help them.
Now you can do nothing at all.
Some desolation - illness, monetary loss, or something you cannot talk about to anyone, a trouble no one seems to understand - has overwhelmed you. All your green leaves have gone.
Now you cannot shelter even the least little bird.
You are like a bush, with its bare twigs . No use to anyone.
That is what you think.
But look again at this bare bush. Look at the delicate tracery of its shadow lines on the snow. The sun is shining behind the bush and so every little twig is helping to make something that is very beautiful. Perhaps other eyes, that you do not see, are looking on it too, wondering what can be made of sun and snow and poor bare twigs....
The spring will come again, for after winter there is always spring.
......Now, in the midst of so much unhappiness, engulfing your heart in cold, let these words seep down - like figures of sunlight, like trickles of first-spring rains - to refresh your inmost soul. God will not fail you, who is the God of the sun and the snow.'

- from 'Figures of the True'

These words minister to me. There are times my heat feels 'engulfed in cold' and my life a shadow of what it once was. No use to anyone. Sometimes I cannot get beyond this pattern of thinking, and sink deep into it, believing more and more lies, living as if it were true. It's hard to dig my way back up. Sometimes it hits at the strangest of moments - when I feel well, for example, or well for me. It's almost as if when I am ill someone carries me, someone sustains me and holds me, but the times I feel better I have to do some battling to keep going. I have to discipline myself to not let the time slip away unproductively on facebook.

It's those times that words like Amy's seep down and blow apart the lies. God will not fail me, God will not fail you. Do not listen to the words which destroy. Believe what God says about you. Whatever you think of yourself, there is a beauty and value in you beyond words. Whatever your circumstances, the spring will come again, for after winter there is always spring.

Abiding Love

So, it's Valentine's Day. So I thought I would write a nice Smuggety McSmug post about how lovely it all is and how wonderful and marvellous Adventure Bloke is.

Except I didn't really.

Now, Adventure Bloke is indeed most wonderful and marvellous, but that is not the content of this post, I'm afraid. I wanted to express something of what love is. The love that underpins all loves. Abiding Love.

Now I'm loving the word 'abiding' at the moment. It's not a word used very often in day to day speak. The only time I can think of hearing it is in the hymn 'Abide With Me' <remember the hauntingly beautiful version of this at the Olympic opening ceremony?>  It's a word that goes deep, that says so much about God's nature.

The dictionary definition is:

Adjective: [of a feeling or a memory] Lasting a long time, enduring
Synonyms: permanent - lasting - constant - enduring - stable

Now, quite a few friends around are struggling in their relationships. Marriages are breaking down, vows are broken, people emotionally abused, discarded. Or simply finding that love has gone. Human love seems to be fleeting at times, transitory, difficult to pin down. People search for love and come up empty. Can the best of human love satisfy the deep need in every soul to be loved, completely and utterly, to be loved abidingly?

God's love is abiding. Abiding is faithful. Abiding is permanent. Abiding is forever. Abiding, also, brings to mind the image of living in a place - of being somewhere, of staying put, of waiting, almost. There is a sense in which God's abiding love is a love that lives with us, stays with us, and waits with us. Never giving up when we are unfaithful to God, not forgetting us when we forget God. We could do all we could do to damage our relationship to God and yet abiding love is still there.

When I see human love doing as it should do and being as it should be - loving unconditionally, valuing the loved one, giving, acts of random kindness, patience, generosity etc, I think of God. I think that such love is possible because of God's image in each of us. When I see it go wrong I mourn at God's image being marred again. When I get it wrong I mourn at God's image being marred in me. And yet there it is - the beauty of it. When I get it wrong, there is still Abiding Love. 'Your love never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me'...

I'd like to think of St Valentine's Day as a day where we can all be reminded of that greatest love <yes, I did resist the temptation to break into song there> and know that whatever our circumstance, however bruised, battered, broken or tired we are, even if we are bumbling along quite happily, we can know the abiding love of Christ, the love with longevity that will never give up.

I'll end this with lyrics by Tenth Avenue North

By Your Side
Why are you striving these days/Why are you trying to earn grace/Why are you crying/Let me lift up your face/Just don't turn away

Why are you looking for love/Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough/To where will you go child/Tell me where will you run/To where will you run

And I'll be by your side/Wherever you fall/In the dead of night/Whenever you call/And please don't fight/These hands that are holding you/My hands are holding you

Look at these hands and my side/They swallowed the grave on that night/When I drank the world's sin/So I could carry you in/And give you life/I want to give you life

Cause I, I love you/I want you to know/That I, I love you/I'll never let you go

This post is dedicated to K, J, S, C and J

 

Ten years ago....for the Oct 03 girls

So ten years ago this week, ish, I found out I was pregnant with Adventure Boy.

After letting the obvious folk in on the secret, where was the first place I ran to? Well, I plugged my modem into the phone socket, keyed in my password and waited while the phone line screeched at me for a silly amount of time before Connecting To The Internet.

The Internet was relatively young then. Netscape and Demon and Windows 2003. I'd used the net since around 1994 but it all seemed so amazingly quick. I kept a book on the computer desk to read between pages loading and couldn't even dream of broadband.

So where did I go? I discovered Babycentre when Adventure Girl was a newborn in 2000. I joined the 'September 2000 Birth Club' and talked with other mums about nappies, feeding and exhaustion. I never thought of the others on the board as friends, just people to chat to. Then I joined the Trying for another Baby board sometime in 2002, and things began to change as I began to get to know Real People. I was so excited about joining another birth club right from the start, and will never forget the excitement of the BFP posts for the TFAB graduates!

So Ten Years Ago I worked out my due date, waited for the page to load for about two hours then logged on to the October 2003 Birth Club. Here's an old archive of the Babycentre mainpage, bring back memories anyone? Babycentre in Feb 2003

When I joined that club in great excitement I never dreamed that I would be making some lifelong friends and that ten years later would still be in touch with almost 30 of them via a certain Social Networking site that had not yet been invented.

So we got into the swing of being the Oct 03 club. We saw each other through pregnancy and birth. I remember you had to load each post in turn and there was no automatic signature so we used to end every post with our due date. I used to open a Word document to be able to reply to everyone. It was a lengthy process! It used to be the first thing I did in the morning, log on to see what new posts there were. Eventually I managed to get myself voted 'moderator' which meant I had to report any naughty swearing or fighting. :D

As babies were born the board's hundreds of members began to narrow down to a smaller core. We discovered Yahoo Chat and msn and whiled away hours chatting merrily away and laughing until we were crying (mnfao, anyone?) We began to arrange meet ups and swap emails. The Board had somewhere along the way become more than a place to go and talk about babies. We shared life together, the ups and downs, and gradually became so much closer than random internet strangers.

Somewhere along the way Babycentre changed, and we didn't like it, being the traditional old stick in the muds that we are ;) Suddenly there was sparkles everywhere. And Tickers. You know - my child is 3 years, 4 months, 5 days, 2 hours, 7 minutes and 55.5 seconds old. And It's Been 2 days since I shopped at Tesco. And 6 weeks until we see Great Aunt Edna. You know the sort. We refused to take part, we declined to be part of the ticker generation. Except we didn't. Slowly, insidiously, the Glitter crept in, the Tickers claimed us. The pretty signatures with pictures of our babies - yep - we bought into it all. Most of us. There were a few die hards ;) And secretly, we quite liked it really.

But then they changed it more, and wanted to chuck off the oldies like us, those whose babies were not babies anymore. So we decamped to our own site, we left on masse, shaking the dust off our feet, and never looked back. Then Facebook happened, and well - the rest is history, really.

I can't believe it's been ten years. We've been through so much together. Here's to many happy years to come, Oct 03 girls :)

Leaning

So, here it is. I have prevaricated and procrastinated for long enough. It's time to tell about that experience. You know, the big one, the one where I wondered if I'd see 2012 through.

What a fellowship, What a joy divine
Leaning on the everlasting arms
What a blessedness, what a peace that's mine
Leaning on the everlasting arms

This is me in the 2nd week of December, or thereabouts.

I suddenly went down with pneumonia in both lungs and went straight into hospital. I was there around 2.5 weeks. I don't have an awful lot of memory of the first week, it's a tad blurry. I remember being really, really scared. I was on constant 02 and still couldn't suck enough air in. I felt like I was drowning.

Lord I'm leaning, leaning
Safe and secure from all alarms
Leaning, leaning
Leaning on the everlasting arms

I only remember calling out to God once. 'Why?' The answer was in the silence and the struggle for every breath. In the recollection of Jesus' own agony. In the ministrations of the staff, in the love of my family and friends. No awesome glimpses of heaven or visions of angels. But a God who was next to me, in it with me, who knew.

What have I to dread
What have I to fear
Leaning on the everlasting arms
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near
Leaning on the everlasting arms

This was the worst exacerbation of my disease in at least 12 years. I cannot remember before such a desperate fight. I would wake up and be unable to move. The pain came with the lack of breath. I'm still recovering from that bit.

Lord I'm leaning, leaning
Safe and secure from all alarms
Leaning, leaning
Leaning on the everlasting arms

I'm aware that this is sounding somewhat melodramatic. But it's cathartic to get down how it was, exactly, and come to terms with that. I was too busy battling to reflect an awful lot, and then too busy recovering. I think I wrote on Facebook after the first week 'I feel like a piece of driftwood washed up to the shore.' I felt exactly that - like I'd been bashed around on the rocks for a week or so, and now it was time to rest. I'm still there, really. I've left the house a few times now, but normal life is still on the housebound side.

Oh how sweet to walk in the pilgrim way
Leaning on the everlasting arms
Oh how bright the path grows from day to day
Leaning on the everlasting arms

It puts a lot of stuff into perspective, something like that. Obvious stuff like the importance of good relationships, like being so very grateful for the love of family and friends. And less outward stuff like realising the importance and even sacredness of each moment. No point trying to live for the future. I could be straining for when I am 'better', whenever that may be, without taking each day for what it is, for the beautiful moments therein. For the laughter with my children over daft YouTube clips, for an evening with Adventure Bloke watching a favourite programme. For each moment with friends who visit. Life doesn't need to be so quick, so furious. Slowed down things can be appreciated.

Lord I'm leaning, leaning
Safe and secure from all alarms
Leaning, leaning
Leaning on the everlasting arms

I'm pondering on contentment at the moment, and what St Paul meant by 'the secret to contentment'. A lot of people seem to base it on circumstance, on health, on relationships. When one of those things is stripped out is it possible to be content? Is it possible that contentment could be to do with the moment, and finding God in the moment? More on this to come as I ponder.

So I'm Leaning. I was Leaning in the hospital, leaning further in than I had perhaps done ever before. The everlasting arms were there, as they always are and always will be. I think that in leaning, far from losing my own independence, I gain all that I am supposed to be, and the further I lean, the further the truth of this is revealed. Try some leaning yourself :)

With thanks to the amazing David Crowder Band.

 

If ...

If. If I was well.

If I was well I would go swimming with my children every single week. I would tell them stories every night and play games with them every day. I would chase them round the house and dance round the living room to Strictly with them. If.

If I was well I would earn money. I would earn enough money to be able to go on adventure holidays abroad. If I was well I would take them to Disneyland and queue for hours for all the rides and walk around the park all day with them. If.

If I was well I would have 2 labradors and go for long walks every day. I would climb hills again on family holidays and see the view from the top of Great Rigg once again. I’d run into the sea with them and play surfing. If.

If I was well I would run community groups. I’d PTA and governor and organise. I’d go on cub camps. I’d say yes to so much more and I’d be reliable. If.

If I was well I might take up running. Or faster swimming. I might go to Zumba. That would be fun. I’d take up dancing again. Rock and Roll was my favourite. I’d make a life of fun and laughter. If.

If I was well I would go in a church of a more high tradition and be able to stay when they burned incense. I’d be able to go along to cold churches and not scupper off home. I’d be on all the committees and make lots of decisions. If.

If I was well I would be busy.

But I am not. I am ill, and I cannot do those things, at least not on any regular basis. So. I am ill, but when I go swimming with my children, it is a joy and a pleasure, a treat. When I tell them stories at night they are delighted and tell me how much they love that time, and how they wish it could be every night. When we play games it helps us all appreciate how things can be so good even when things are bad.

When my children ask about foreign holidays and iPads I tell them how much more important love is. How all the money in the world would not make me love them more. Because I am ill my children are turning into compassionate and empathetic people. 

When my children long for me to run into the sea with them they have learned to love it when I sit on the beach and watch them. Making memories of being with them. It is enough.

Because I cannot be on a thousand committees I have time to be. Just me, just who I am. Not what I do. I am teaching my children their value lies in their own selves and in who God made them to be. I am teaching my children that we don’t need to find worth in activity. I am teaching myself this, on a daily basis.

Because I am not reliable maybe I am helping others see beyond people as objects, as how useful they are. Maybe, hopefully, in some small way I am helping people to see people as valued individuals.

One day  I will climb hills again and see the view from the top of Great Rigg in the sunshine. In the hope of such, joy and laughter is not banished from a life where such things cannot be achieved at present. Because of hope, there is joy. ‘Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’ And in the mourning?

Because I cannot go in some churches or be on some committees maybe I am doing my bit to dispel the Vicar’s Wife myth. Perhaps it is good for people to see we are not all of a mould, and not all there to be available at all times for all activities. 

Because I am not busy, I am free to be who I was supposed to be.

Because I am not busy, I am free.

And in freedom, the ‘if’ becomes redundant, becomes empty. There is no need for an ‘if’ in this life, if we can embrace the hope and the value of knowing God, and understand the reality of who we are in God.

I still have If days though. I like being honest with you.  And on that note, lets face it, I wouldn’t really do all those things even if I was well. Board games every day? Swimming every week? Um...nope. :D I like to dream, though, and believe in the higher possibilities...

Paralympics Meanderings

How fabulous are the Paralympics?

I love seeing how the athletes have worked so hard and triumphed over such adversity. They are inspirational. It's quite staggering to see how far some of them have come in their lives and their sport. And - well, they're fantastic athletes.

However, there is something of a backlash amongst the disabled and chronically sick community, especially as regards to one of the Paralympic sponsors, Atos Healthcare. One has to wonder why a company that has a £112 million contract to assess sick and disabled people for DLA and ESA, yet costs the taxpayer £60 million in appeals against decisions, 40% of which are successful, have been allowed to sponsor such an event. Especially considering the fact that many of the athletes making up TeamGB will have relied on Disability Living Allowance throughout their lives in order to do what they have done and become the athletes they have succeeded in becoming.

DLA is not an out of work benefit, it is a benefit helping disabled people to live lives with some possibility of fulness, not to mention to keep them alive. Disabled and chronically sick people need extra money just to keep existing with their disabilities. Transport, heating, technical aids, carers. The list goes on. And yet Atos have been tasked with assessing people on this benefit - even those given a lifelong award, with doctors' support - with the end view of reducing it by 20%. Even though fraud rate has been assessed at around 0.5%. Figures don't add up? Go figure....

I'll post a video explaining it more, for those who are interested. This video explains Atos' role more clearly, against the backdrop of a protest by disabled people that took place yesterday.

Equally concerning me in all this, and running throughout it, is the attitudes being fostered towards sick and disabled people. While it's great to comment on how the athletes have come through difficult situations and achieved incredible goals, there is an underlying rhetoric taking place which fits nicely with Atos' seeming aims. Basically, that disabled people can achieve such things, so if you're not, you're not trying hard enough. You're so much use, you're a scrounger, because you haven't given it your all, like these people, you haven't triumphed over your own personal adversity. You're sick: So what? So are they!

It's a worrying trend which is intensifying through society, from welfare cuts to newspaper articles. But think about it. You wouldn't think this about an able bodied, healthy person, that because they weren't running like Mo Farah they weren't trying hard enough? It's scary when you feel judged on being ill and judged even more on not trying hard enough to not be ill. Or to be fabulous anyway, within your illness.

I sometimes wonder if this attitude is somewhat prevalent in the church, too. The whole 'pull up your socks and get on with it' thing. Amidst praising the triumphant, we need to remember those who, for whatever reason, simply cannot triumph, or at least triumph in the way we may want them to. Remember those who are too sick to work, and even too sick to go out, and who are stuck there, and no amount of talking up what people 'can' do as opposed to 'cannot' will help them be able to. It also leads into the whole area of usefulness and uselessness. Seeing reports of such bravery can be very inspirational and can encourage someone to go for it; but we need to remember that for some it simply feeds into their own sense of uselessness. I will never be able to do something like this, I will never be able to work, I will never be able to contribute. I am useless.

I've had times of thinking like this (still do, on a fairly regular basis) and know how it is to be trapped in a body that simply won't. Simply won't ever be a body of an athlete, whatever I do, however hard I try. It's not possible for me. But does that make me of lesser worth than the athlete? Society is at risk of beginning to categorise sick and disabled people: Those who can, those who can't, those who won't, those who are worthless. Does church do that too?

I know someone who doesn't....