On opening the kitchen door, I noticed immediately that the fridge door was open, the plastic door compartments had exited the door, and the floor was covered with a brown liquid. A half- consumed bottle of coke in a plastic bottle had unaccountably exploded, leaving its environs ae described above.
It could have been a lot worse. All the bits of the fridge were unharmed and easily reassembled, after a run through the dishwasher, I took the opportunity to defrost the fridge, and gave the floor a healing scrub. All done.( Never found the bottle top … weird.)
The flower guy showed up in good time, but because operation coke-bottle took more time than anticipated, I stopped off at The Manna House for a sandwich, which sorted lunch.
Ray was away, so I got to determine which jobs to assign to Abu who helps out in the garden. I put him on cutting back the pink elder, which is stressed, and probably dying, and had him clear the trails through the shrubbery, which are hide and seek opportunities for the grandchildren, now doubling up as a prayer labyrinth. I made him an American Brunch, treating myself to a spare pancake.
Free for the rest of the day, I set about making soup for tomorrow, then settled down to watch uplifting videos on YouTube
Sunday began slowly. I rose early to pray, which I combined with watching butterflies and walking the labyrinth. July is good for all three. Having done all that was necessary yesterday, I didn’t need to be too early for church, so I ambled up just 15 minutes before kick-off to find a very agitated friend, Michael*, in a heated discussion with Fr Liam, who was totally at a loss as to why St Mary’s was closed, so unable to give an explanation.
It’s at this moment I become a godsend. I know Michael well from taking lunch at the community kitchen on Thursdays. Michael is a volunteer chef and I am one of his customers.
I know that St Mary’s is closed because the congregation has hoofed it up the road to Gorsley Baptists to celebrate the vicar’s 65th birthday. I got the email. Michael can’t read or write, so he didn’t. St Mary’s takes great care of Michael, and this circumstance is not typical.
“Come with me, Michael, I’ll explain, and you can do church with me today,”
Michael too, was a godsend. During my prayer time, I’d reflected on St Paul’s words in today’s gospel. “Christ in you, the hope of glory …” and I’d determined today to see Christ in everyone. Christ came to me today as a fifty-one year old man with learning difficulties who needed a friend, and I came as Christ to him, to reassure him and guide him through his first Catholic Mass. Fr Liam broke protocol and agreed to give Michael Communion. “Jesus understands,” he affirmed.
The grande finale … Christ came to both of us in bread and wine. The greatest godsend of all.
*Not his real name.
