Not the kind of afternoon I really wanted to spend. I had great plans on using a chunk of time trying to work on a course that I am leading in all things missiology! I had great plans on using a chunk of time trying to be creative, imaginative, inventive. I had great plans on using a chunk of time trying to alleviate a little bit of pressure that is slowly building in the juggling that is my life at the moment.
Steph hasn’t got much. But seemingly enough for local kids looking to finance their drug dependence to smash their way in to her flat and steal not just anything of value but anything. Not just once but several times. Steph is part of our church and has decided that enough is enough and she is moving. I get a call – "any chance of helping". What I say is not what is going on in my head. As I say yes I groan inwardly, bemoaning the loss of time that I’d carefully set aside.
As we travel between the two flats I think of a guy I met at BLAH! A guy totally dissatisfied with church and I wish he was with me. I heard his anguish. His frustration. His angst. His irritation at his perceived cosmetic superficiality of church life and I wish he was with me moving what Steph has. Steph who craves community. Steph who longs for family. Steph who needs stability, constancy, solidity. I wish he could join me in my journey as I learn there is an indescribable fulfilment in ‘offering and accepting help’ within a community of variegation. I wish he could have been there when Steph who for long periods of the time we have known her has been homeless looked at me and said "thanks…I guess that is what families are for - getting and giving help!"
And there’s me wanting to be creative, imaginative and inventive with my afternoon.