A note on flowers sent yesterday said “Being back in Wellington must be surreal”. ‘Surreal’ is right. The cold Roger generously passed on is in full flight. I eventually took the week as sick leave.
I watched Roger poleaxed with this cold during Dad’s funeral time, hoping I wouldn’t succumb. But, probably to be expected. Thank goodness for that which ‘soothes the throat and clears the nose”
Our sincere thanks for all the emails and messages, flowers from Cuppa and Chat and the Parish Council. I do love getting flowers. Each time my eye falls on them I get a fresh burst of pleasure.
Thanks too to Jim Cunningham for stepping in last Sunday and to Tony and Sandra Kirby who are leading this Sunday’s Gathering. The depth of ability and spirituality at St Andrew’s is awesome. The willingness to help is too. I thought of you all just after 10am last Sunday as we rose, in Gore, to sing “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty” and I knew you were singing some cheeky person’s contemporary rewrite of the old 100th! (smile).
It was a good send off for my Dad. St Andrew’s, Gore was full – probably about 400 – about an eighth of them were relatives! I have 24 cousins on Dad’s side. Many of them are grandparents so clan presence was significant. Dad was an active and caring patriarch of the family and you could see the result. My sister and I eulogised, also Dad’s step granddaughter Libby (18) spoke beautifully and the current Mayor. He quoted an American poet Dad apparently used once in a speech; Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819-1881). I think Holland’s words (styled typically for his time) applies to both men and women and, ironically, to American presidents. I wonder what Josiah Gilbert Holland would think of the present incumbent? I’ve used his original words, out of respect, but you can translate I’m sure.
GOD, give us men!
A time like this demands
Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands;
Men whom the lust of office does not kill;
Men whom the spoils of office can not buy;
Men who possess opinions and a will;
Men who have honor; men who will not lie;
Men who can stand before a demagogue
And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking!
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog
In public duty, and in private thinking; For while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds,
Their large professions and their little deeds,
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps,
Wrong rules the land and waiting Justice sleeps.
May we be women and men who make sure that justice does not sleep. Won’t see you Sunday but I hope you will be there to enjoy what Tony and Sandra bring to the Gathering, to ponder the Lenten Moment and be at the congregational conversation afterwards.
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