Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Loud music - Soft drinks

Dear Chroniclers,

after a whirlwind weekend or two, we're taking some time off tonight to put our feet up.

It all has to do with teenygoth's ASBO'n'soft drinks Youth Group at our local parish church in Little Wittering, of which more later.

Pickled and mixed

Regrettably, I have to report that Cook has taken the opportunity to launch yet another spirited attack on the House gin supplies. She's currently to be found sashaying around the TV Room doing the televisual equivalent of a karaoke to "Strictly Come Dancing" whilst draped in an alarming selection of pastry-cutters from the kitchen.

To compound the problem, Fetlock the Butler has recently emerged as triumphant winner in a protracted e-bay auction for a box of mixed turnips. They arrived, mail order from his native Slovenia, earlier this week and he's upstairs in the garrett peeling off the bubble-wrap as we speak. Fetlock intends to put the wretched things to good use shortly, having misguidedly promised to assist Cook with the preparation of Sunday lunch.

The omens, frankly, are not good and a certain unease has already settled on the House as to what the two of them may concoct come the morning. Turnip fritters appear a distinct possibility.

A new mission

Enough of our trials and tributlations - let's return to the theme for tonight's pasting.

Perhaps out of concern as to Cook's ongoing alcoholic challenges, or maybe a little closer to home, a general malaise concerning our own state of moral turpitude, but both mrs electofried and I have been contemplating a change of ministry for some time now.

Whilst mrs electrofried's regular dj slot at our local Women's Institute (the infamous "Loud, Proud and Homebaked") and my own irregular talks to the great unwashed of Little Wittering continue to enjoy a certain following, it has become abundantly clear to us of late there is much need to do more.

The chosen path

"You're kidding me!!!!", was teenygoth's immediate response.

We took this as positive affirmation following mrs electrofried's announcement that we were shortly to join the leadership of the Youth Team at St Simeon's, the Church for the Terminally Bewildered Anglican in Little Wittering.

Regrettably, for teenygoth at least, we weren't and we have ... and great fun it is too!

Windy vantage

The Church for the TBA is to be found at the top of a large hill, overlooking the market square below. Most weekends the youth of the village can be found gathered at this dark and windy vantage point, swapping homework notes on such interesting subjects as Chemistry, Biology and the like.

Evidence of their study is invariably to be found behind the Chancel wall come Sunday morning services, but is usually removed fairly speedily by the Verger before the first of our dear ladies arrive for Matins.

There is however, a new attraction on the hill!

Open for Business

After months of powerful and intense liturgical debate concerning its name, the imaginatively titled, "St Simeon's Church Centre" has opened once more for business. It's a 1950's warehouse of a thing, recently refurbished with copious quantities of EEC money and now suitably bedecked with fancy electronic doors, a new plumbing system and a kitchen clearly designed by a male dwarf with a wicked sense of humour.

And it is here mrs electrofried and I now ply our trade to the passing and frankly bemused young-folk of Little Wittering.

Musical Youth

Opening events for the Centre focussed on all things musical and I'm delighted to say yours truly was asked to fetch out the Box brownies and a box of freshly emulsioned glassy plates.

Mrs electrofried too, was pressed into early action - her role being to crew the lighting rig cunningly fashioned from a torch masked with various coloured wrappers purloined from a half-emptied tin of her beloved Quality Street.

A specimen example appears above - the "Vanilla Fudge Special", if memory serves me correct.

Tales to follow

I sense that as our ministry unfolds there will be much to share with you. Already, after just four weeks in situ, the weekends have sped past in a blur of loud music, soft drinks and general chit-chattery with a burgeoning and highly diverse group of young-folk - some churched, many not.

However, the lure of "X-Factor (reloaded)" calls to me from the TV Room. And I suspect from the loud crash within that poor Cook's karaoke has hit the bumpers yet again.

best regards

electrofried (mr)

Saturday, November 18, 2006

The heart of good and evil

Dear Chroniclers,

this is the last in the series of "Adventures across the Pond". It will be the shortest too, for the actions of the people will speak for themselves.

Helicopters overhead

When we first came into Lancaster on our tour charabanc we saw helicopters flying overhead. We thought nothing of it until we switched on the TV that night in our hotel room.

Preparations

A local milk-truck driver called Charles Carl Roberts IV had pulled up his truck outside an inconspicuous Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines three hours before we arrived. It was one of his regular deliveries.

Roberts had prepared his visit meticulously for at least six days beforehand, ticking off a list of items he would take into the schoolroom with him. These included:

  • three guns;

  • a stun gun

  • a bag with 600 rounds of ammunition;

  • a piece of wood pierced with ten eyebolts spaced ten inches apart; and

  • a set of plastic bindings.

There were other things he took into the schoolroom with him.

The heart of evil

Roberts did not emerge alive. Instead, he tied up ten Amish schoolgirls by the blackboard, shot them at close range then put the gun to his own head.

Five of the girls were killed outright, three left in a critical condition and the remaining two seriously injured. They ranged in age from six to thirteen.

The heart of good

The Amish buried their lost girls quietly and as a community. They invited the family of the killer to the funerals, believing they too were victims. They will be sharing the money raised in the wake of the tragedy with the family.

Our last day

On our last full day in Pennsylvania we went into the heart of the Amish community. Here are three memories we carried home with us:

  • the Amish grandmother who greeted us, full of joy, to her quilt-shop. She had three grand-daughters who attended the schoolhouse - one escaped, another was in hospital, her shoulder shattered, the last had just been buried. She harboured no hatred.

  • the ninety-six year old Amish man who showed us around his simple workshop where he still makes the most beautiful furniture.

  • the faces of the straw-haired Amish children who ran out to welcome our charabanc as it pulled up outside the farmhouse where we ate our penultimate meal in Pennsylvania. They greeted us with smiles and waves - the road, just a stone's throw from the schoolhouse, has just been re-opened by the police.
The grace of God

There are tears in my eyes as I type these last words and close the book on our visit. It is the meaning of the grace of God that we saw first-hand in the Amish who carried this message so very faithfully.

The last words are from Him ...

"We know that in all things God works for good with those who love him, those whom he has called according to his purpose."

Romans 8:28