All Souls'

A dry sunny morning after another broken night's sleep, I got up at eight and drank a litre of water before having breakfast. It's the only way to prevent the ill effects of dehydration from the blood pressure medication. I'm resorting to having a pinch of sea salt in porridge and other foods after twenty five years of avoiding it, hoping to counteract blood sodium depletion caused by the diuretic effect of the meds. We'll find out in due course if it makes any difference.

In today's news reports about the hurricane that devastated Jamaica, mention of terrible flooding in the port town of Black River St Elizabeth in the south west of the island. It's a town I remember well from my visit there back in the early eighties. Father Charlie Smith, the non-stipendiary bus driving curate in the St Paul's area parish hailed from Black River, a good enough reason to go there and meet members of his family. Charlie's brother was a Windrush generation migrant, who returned home preferring the life of a poor fisherman to being an unskilled labourer in urban Bristol at a time when overt racism was not unusual. I arrived there during a parish vacancy and took a few Sunday services at the time of the Coconut Harvest festival. I took the Sacrament to their octogenarian family matriarch. at home It turned out to be her last Communion. She died shortly after I left. 

I arrived at St Catherine's for the Eucharist five minutes late, delayed by an unexpected bowel movement. Another outcome of the blood thinners I'm taking I think. Jeremy, an ordinand on placement in the Parish preached and led the Ministry of the Word this morning. There were forty of us in church plus a few exuberant noisy kids. 

It's All Souls' Day, time to remember departed family and friends. Parents, grandparents aunts and uncles have all left this world, three cousins and sister Pauline too during covid five years ago. Brother-in-law Eddy died this month ten years ago. We are the elders now, waiting our turn and wondering how long we have left, grateful for life we've had and still receive as a gift day by day. There were times during my recent sojourns in A&E when I wondered if my time had arrived. To have stayed fit, active and healthy until four score years has been a great blessing. 

The Psalmist reminds us that our latter years are 'but labour and sorrow'. We may well avoid infirmity until the last, but sorrow abounds when you lose family and friends, colleagues and others you look up to, or share memories with. Life already continues at a pace without us when we're old. We're fortunate if we can witness the rising generation inheriting the world from us, and feel pride in their abilities and achievements to balance the sorrow at the mess left behind us. Also fortunate when we can look back on people whose wisdom and understanding influenced us and helped make us become the people we are and give thanks for them.

After lunch and a siesta I walked in Llandaff Fields until sunset. I stopped outside the house looking at the various cars parked outside, not knowing who owns them. Now I'm car free, it's a relief not to worry about a vehicle I'm responsible for maintaining, keeping legal and safe on the street. It started to drizzle as the sun reached the horizon near the end of my paseo. Better than a heavy shower at this hour as has happened late afternoon several times recently. I guess it's something to do with the air temperature dropping as the sunlight fades and water vapour in the air reaches its dew point.

As I've done the Biblical Reflection for next Wednesday I decided to record Wednesday Morning Prayer as well, just to find out if I can do it without over-stressing myself. After supper I prepared the relevant text. Recording can wait until tomorrow. Time for bed now.