Showing posts with label Golden Wedding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Golden Wedding. Show all posts

Saturday, 6 August 2016

The big day

At seven this morning Rhiannon and Jasmine emerged from their tent bedroom and invaded our bed for a cuddle, as their mothers did thirty five years ago. What a lovely way to begin our Golden Wedding anniversary day.

After breakfast, with a car full of party stuff, Clare and I drove to the Old Church Rooms community hall in Radyr, which we'd hired for our celebration. The key code we'd been given for the main door didn't work, so we had to call the caretaker to let us in. We arrived in time to welcome and brief the reputed Elgano caterering team, looking after us, and once this was done, we returned home to don our party clothes, just as the others were leaving with all the materials to decorate the hall festively.

Owain went directly to Radyr by train and joined the others there at the hall. Ann and Anneke came all the way by train from Felixstowe, also our university friend Nan arrived by train from Swindon, having been given a lift there by car from Devon. Nephew Nick came down from Edinburgh, via Exeter, where he went to see his mother Daphne, now in a care home nearby. The longest and most complex journey was nephew Julian, from Dubai to Cork to Bristol by various aircraft, then to Weston super Mare by car to pick up his mother, Pauline, my elder sister, who came with my niece Nicky. Sister June sadly felt unable to travel from London, given her limited mobility these days. None my father's siblings survive, just Mary the wife of the youngest, who also cannot travel distances these days. We are now the older generation, even if we don't feel it!

Friends came that we'd made over the years, my Best Man Mike and his wife Gail from university days sat at the top table with us. Graham, who was at St Mike's the same time as me and his wife Eleri whom I knew from SCM in those days. Martin, whom I prepared for baptism in my first curacy at St Andrew's Caerphilly and later became a priest, with his spouse Chris. 

From Birmingham student chaplaincy days, Angela with daughter Lydia and grand daughter Becky, a near neighour in Bournbrook Road. Her youngest two children grew up with ours. 

Richard, Curate in St Pauls when I arrived and his wife Jo. Jane, who lived in St Agnes Vicarage attic in our time, along with three dance colleagues making performances with her friend Charlie. Clare's friend Marion came, with her daughter Emily plus two of her eight grandchildren, Em was Kath's best friend in primary school. 

From Halesowen days, came former churchwarden Ken and his wife Joan now living in Devon where Ken is once more a churchwarden, plus retired local GP Richard and his wife Sue, whose daughter Pru made our marvellous golden anniversary cake.

There was nobody there from our Geneva days, nor from our time at St John's, although some sent cards. Our newest friend present was Diana from the Ignatian prayer group and her husband Peter.  All in all, with immediate family there were forty four of us. And
 the hall was alive with conversations, as a special playlist representing the sound track of our lives together played in the background.

Mike made a speech, and played us a piece of Bach he'd learned for the occasion on the hall's electric piano. As he said, Bach can sound good on any instrument. Kath presented us with a custom made photo album containing photos she'd acquired from family archives and other sources, covering every aspect of the fifty three years since we met. An amazing and delightful feat of editing. Then she with Rachel on guitar sang a song they'd jointly written celebrating the story of our life together, called 'Children of the Sixties'. They'd managed to write this and rehearse it in the few days they were together, and sing it so beautifully together. It was so touching.

By half past four, all our guests were leaving, and after tidying up, the family went home and continued to talk, eat and drink well until dusk, and the girls' bed-time. What a lovely happy big day.
  

Friday, 5 August 2016

Home gathering

Yesterday, Rachel drove to Thatcham Berkshire, to collect Jasmine from her other grandparents' home, and not long after I got back from the office, they arrived. It's amazing to see how much Jasmine has grown nine months. She'll be ten in November. She's learned how to crochet in school, and has already developed an eye for making things without needing a pattern. Within an hour of acquiring some wool from Clare, she'd crocheted an angel.

Today there were lots of preparations to make for our Golden Wedding anniversary party tomorrow, buying wine, flowers etc. Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrived early evening, and we sat down together to a pasta supper which I'd cooked, out in the garden. Clare had borrowed a tent, and with Jasmine's help erected it on the lawn, to give our grand daughters their own special adventure place to sleep while the house was occupied by grown-ups. We talked, ate, drank too much, and later even made a little music. Things we always do when we gather. Owain joins us tomorrow.

Saturday, 16 January 2016

Cana miracle revisited

This morning Clare and I worked on sending email notifications of our forthcoming Golden Wedding Anniversary celebration party on the afternoon of August the sixth, although we have yet to decide where to hold the event. Kath's advice was, "Get people to put the date in their diaries now, and you can fill in the practical details later." Sound thinking indeed.

In the afternoon, as it was chilly and dry, we walked briskly into town through the park. Clare bought me a fleece lining for my rain jacket, and later a green cashmere jumper for herself. We had a drink in the House of Frazer 'Zest' restaurant, calmer than usual on Saturday afternoons, then walked home for a quiet evening of sermon preparation and another episode of 'Young Montalbano', which never fails to please.

In tackling the Gospel story of the marriage feast at Cana, I returned to an interpretation I first explored six years ago. This proposes that Jesus' rescue of the festivities didn't depend upon a miracle, but on the timely recognition that water should be served when there was no longer any wine. If the house had been drunk dry, was more wine really needed? Let alone good wine, when the drinkers' palates would be jaded with the inferior stuff. 

The president of the feast praises the host for keeping 'the best wine until last'. Just as the gathering is feeling the effects of excess alcohol and heat, cool fresh water is just what's needed to revive everyone, ready for the communal dancing that is characteristic of any Mediterranean festivity. The president might have said that with tongue in cheek, or a hint of irony, and certainly not wanting to insult the host, or complain. If all had indeed drunk enough, the timing made the offer of water just right. Water is a powerful symbol of renewal in biblical writing anyway.

The intention in this little interpretation is not to explain away or dismiss the miraculous. I feel sure the Almighty is up to breaking all the laws of nature without consequence in order to make a point to us when we think we know it all, but in this case, what is the point of turning water into wine? Any excess drinking wouldn't enhance the social climax of the festivities. So few people actually knew what was going on behind the scenes, who was going to be impressed? Jesus certainly wasn't showing off divine powers to surprise an audience. His insight into what the party really needed at this crucial moment, was what made the transforming difference to the occasion.

Does John take the words of the President of the feast literally, because at that time he was still young and easily impressed into thinking miraculously? He doesn't use the word 'miracle', but refers to this event as a 'sign' of God's glory. God in Jesus, working quietly and unobtrusively in the background to keep the occasion on an even keel, just when it needed a change of pace and consumption. John's point remains the same - the difference which the presence and actions of Jesus make to one everyday event. All points to God at work in the ordinary things of life, leading everyone to value the simple things, to enjoy life's pleasures in moderation rather than excess.

I'd prefer to argue that God doesn't need to prove himself, or astonish us into believing by displays of miracles when already everything in the universe is, as Psalm 139 says: 'so fearfully and wonderfully made'. Without imposing himself publicly, Jesus helps to deal with an embarrassing situation for the host, by being aware of the real needs of the moment. This is a reflection of the just and gentle way in which he tackles many a difficult situation encountered in his ministry, and indeed, in the exemplary and humble way he goes to his death, sacrificing himself to reconcile humankind with God. Looking carefully at his life and work certainly does challenge me to think differently!