We pray that people who suffer from depression or burn-out will find support and a light that opens them up to life. Lord, graciously hear us.
This is the right season to remember people who suffer from depression, especially in the lands that know Autumn and Winter with our shortening, darkling days, with the cold in the bones, and even without covid, enough infections to stockpile tissues against. Light amid th’encircling gloom, indeed.
And burn-out is all too real for many who have kept going with caring for children, the sick, the frail, the elderly, and who have not had enough time to take care of themselves. Let us pray that we might show more consideration for carers, nurses and teachers, and all who have given without counting the cost. We pray that people who suffer from depression or burn-out will find support and a light that opens them up to life. Lord, graciously hear us.
In order to give the superiors a little encouragement in the way of making a missionary of me, I at last was able to acquire a second hand motor-bike and sidecar (plus of course a debt!) and was given charge of five villages (don’t imagine “village”, think of forests, banana gardens, cotton fields + very scattered huts). I did the sick calls for a month + two safaris. Bedding and everything packed off to a mud house in the woods seven miles away and then I nearly died of fatigue. Quite frankly exhausted. Hut to hut visiting over fields, rocks, ruts …. For hours and hours each day. Little sleep at night because of rats and spiders …. How I learnt to admire the real missionaries! Those who do this always.
It’s 1934, and Fr Arthur Hughes, recently arrived in Uganda, is trying to get away from being a desk jockey; he was the bishop’s secretary. Different times! The missionaries had vast areas to cover and the motor bike was a reasonably efficient and cheap means of getting about; he had used one extensively in England earlier. Not very many years before this, a push bike was considered something of a luxury for a missionary. Arthur is writing to his sister Winifred in London; we have kept his punctuation.
Nowadays there are many Ugandan priests, serving God and their people, but from before Fr Hughes’s time to the present day, the Church has been held together through the work of lay catechists. Tomorrow we will be visiting them in Uganda, and finding more about this long-established ministry which has at last been formally recognised by Pope Francis.
Spiders look bigger in the dark with only a hurricane lamp to see by.
An evening Taizé service, all three readings taken from 1 Corinthians 12 and 13, each one followed by silence.
After the first reading I felt quite let down: for much of my life, there was no praying for the higher gifts, or even any great feeling of having gifts worth mentioning. Day by day seemed a matter of getting through the agenda: getting up, half-hearted morning offering (Good morning life and all things glad and beautiful), breakfast, commuter trains, waiting for students who might or might not attend the lesson, more trains, sit down to eat with whoever’s at home, prep for next day, sleep more or less well, repeat.
That was how it looked on a cold, damp evening, a year and more into retirement. But at the time it was not all gloom, as this old post makes clear. Good morning life and all things glad and beautiful!
What does Paul say? Just look at Chapter 13: whatever gifts I may have count as nothing, without love. And I dare to say that I loved my work, loved the oddball teenagers I worked with, and even loved the commute. Writing this blog has forced me to open my eyes and look into that mirror where we can see the Lord at work, however dimly. I hope a few readers have enjoyed the reflections our writers have shared.
Good morning life and all things glad and beautiful!