I forgot to post the link to today's Morning Prayer and reflection until after breakfast. I was distracted by some fresh ideas about a speech I started composing last night as part of the play I'm writing in fits and starts about episodes in the life of St German. I worked on that for twenty minutes before going down for breakfast. Then I realized I may run out of medication while on holiday, but when I checked, I found there was enough to last until the day after our return. It's a matter of getting the prescription renewal form processed while we're away, and collecting it immediately we arrive.
It's cloudy, almost overcast today, but still warm enough not to need a top coat. I went to the Eucharist at St John's. There were eleven of us. Mthr Frances talked about Esther John, a Pakistani Christian convert who was murdered, probably in an honour killing because she ran away from home rather than succumb to an arranged marriage to a muslim. She trained and worked as a nurse in Christian institutions, and then trained as a catechist and evangelist, and had only been working a year before her death. I have noticed that she's thought of first as a Christian nurse, and less straightforwardly regarded as a martyr.
The word 'martyr' has quite different overtones for Islam, denoting anyone who fights to the death for their faith, no matter how many lives they may take in the process. For Christians a martyr means simply one who witnesses to faith in Christ and loses their life because of this. Esther John is a key modern exemplar. She wasn't merely a murder victim. Frances told the story of the police investigation into her death in 1960. She kept a journal starting from her youthful encounter with scripture leading to her conversion until her death. This was read from cover to cover searching for any reference to a lover to suspect of her death, but the investigating officer concluded. "The only man she was ever in love with was your Christ." That was why she left home and converted, and was subject to the vengeful hatred of others. Nobody was ever charged with killing her. Although that is a scandal, the lack of justice doesn't detract from the truth that she is a true martyr, and should be celebrated as such.
I dropped off my prescription renewal form at Boots the Chemist on my way home from church, and then cooked pasta for lunch, using one of a bag of chillies Clare had been given. It tasted sweet and quite mild, so I used an entire one. The result was hotter than expected, though not so hot as to make the dish uneatable. It would have been better to use half a chilli. Better luck next time!
I sat down to do my daily Duo Lingo drill after lunch and fell asleep half way through. Lately I've needed a siesta much less often, but I have been tireder than usual this past few days, perhaps due to increased activity, both mental and physical. Afterwards I took a collapsible plastic crate around to St Catherine's, suitably labelled as a receptacle for Food Bank offerings, and took our contribution with me, as I'd forgotten to take it to St John's earlier in the day. Before going home, I walked around Thompson's Park, taking more photos of changing colours in the trees. The change is slower there than across the road in Llandaff Fields.
With nothing better to do, I spent a few hours in front of the telly after supper watching NCIS and 'All Creatures Great and Small', and then turned in early. We drive over to Watchet tomorrow afternoon, and I don't want to be in need of a siesta while on the road.
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