Update

I spent 2 nights with my sister and was able to do the shopping and allow her to spend most of the time with her foot up. Her foot is much better now and the swelling has gone down. She can get around quite well using Mum's old walking stick. Luckily it is her left wrist that is broken. I left her several microwave meals to keep her going and a lady who lives in the same block brought a big container of soup.
I am no cook. We had a baked dinner my sister had previously put in the freezer one night. And I went to KFC the other night.
I will visit by train after church on Sunday and drive down again on Monday evening so as to take her back to the hospital on Tuesday morning for replastering once the swelling has gone down. I have promised to drive down the following Friday and take her for other pre-arranged medical appointments. I will probably stay the night and pick my brother-in-law up at the airport on the Saturday. Then he can take over.

My wallet arrived in the post without the $150 but at least everything else. Apparently someone had dropped it into a letter box.
Thankfully I have avoided the hassle of getting a new driving licence. I, of course, am in the process of getting new credit/debit cards which had been cancelled and rearranging regular payments from them.

I had been asked to work 2 days next week and 2 days the following week. I have now received an email asking me to work 3 days in the following week so that will replace the money lost. However, all this is further delaying the preparation of my house for sale.

I have closed my Facebook account. Reading that people are going to bed and receiving hugs etc are just not my scene, no offence meant.

I must be a curmudgeon. In the two days at my sister's home the phone rang more than it would ring all year at my home. I get more calls from charity groups (commercial phone calls are blocked and illegal here) than from friends. My phone might go several weeks without ringing.

If Only

Yesterday was a terrible day.

My walking group had a choice of an out of town easy walk along an old rail line with a 2 hour train journey to get there (the route I took last week). I would have preferred this but my sister had to take her husband to the airport so we instead went on an inner city walk, The Rocks, the oldest section of Sydney. We actually could have gone on the other as my sister had a quick trip home from the airport. I have often visited the Rocks. We did have an interesting tour of the oldest Catholic church in the city led by one of the priests. The rest of the day was listening to one of our group reading long explanations of the history at different points. I hate standing around and knew a lot of it anyway so was bored stiff.

In the afternoon, I decided to leave early and catch an earlier train home than the rest of the group, my sister came with me.

The shortest way to the station was across a busy road leading onto the Harbour Bridge. My sister suggested we go a slightly longer way and use a pedestrian crossing.
As we went that way a man approached with a dog on a leash. The dog ran one side of my sister, the man the other and my sister sprawled on the ground. She had a cut lip and cut hands but a very sore left wrist and right foot. A nearby cafe brought a glass of water. I hailed a taxi and we got her into it and said to go to her house. She felt terrible so I asked the taxi to go to the Emergency at her local hospital instead. As we arrived my sister said she did not think she could get into the emergency. I paid the taxi driver and in my haste apparently dropped my wallet.

We did make it into the emergency and the woman on the desk told me to bring my wife to the window. At that moment my sister went extremely white. This was probably a good thing as nurses ran to her, her blood pressure had dropped alarmingly so a trolley was brought and we were quickly inside. Fortunately her condition improved.

However even then it was 3 hours before she got to x-ray and a bed in the emergency ward. Having a bed does not mean an actual bed, still on the trolley, but now at a station with a nurse etc. rather than in the corridor. Emergency corridors are awful as traffic accident victims come in and are raced to surgery passed you, also elderly patients who speak little English are screaming and crying as no-one can understand them.

I rang and cancelled my credit cards but there are so many other items including driving licence and pension card, I think about $65 cash. I had put the $30 change from taxi into my pocket as I rushed to help my sister. I rang my brother-in-law now in Queensland about to take a yacht to sea.

6 hours after arriving we were still waiting on the doctor to report. It was after 8 and I could not find if they were going to release her so I would take her home and stay at her place or keep her in. We decided that if I left they would have to keep her as she had no-one at home. So I arrived home at 11pm. Needed to find my valium type tablets, which I have not used since I left full time work 7 years ago, in order to sleep.

Now at 7am I rang my sister and she has told me she is in a proper ward with wrist in plaster, foot is improving. I will drive down now, probably in peak hour traffic although she has told me not to hurry, and take her home I will probably have to stay with her a day or two.

If only we had gone on the other walk.
If only I had been prepared to stay with the whole tour and not leave early.
If only we had risked crossing with the traffic.
If only that man had kept better control of his dog.
If only I had been less panicked as I left the taxi.

IF ONLY.

Rest of Travels

Continuing my journey, I travelled for 5 hours by bus across to the coast. We stopped for lunch in the town of Inverell and then, having gradually climbed the western slopes to the top of the Tablelands at Glen Innes (1062 metres), we drove down the steep eastern escarpment into the Clarence River Valley and the city of Grafton. No Aboriginal names here. The bus does not stop for sightseeing so I have found a photo online of the Upper Clarence Valley from the Gibraltar Range.

I stayed in a motel near the railway station as I had to leave on the 6.30am train on Friday morning. Therefore I had to walk across the Grafton Bridge to reach the main city. The bridge was opened in 1932 and at that time it was the second largest bridge in Australia, having opened a few months after the much large Sydney Harbour Bridge. It is rather unique in that the top deck is used by motor vehicles and the lower deck by the railway. It use to open for shipping but no longer.

The city population is 16,500. I again used a self-guided tour brochure but think it was meant for driving rather than walking as I have worked out that, even after leaving out some of the sections, I had walked about 12 kilometres and had very sore feet when I got back to the motel that afternoon. It is more scenic than Moree having such a wide river. It is renowned for its jacaranda trees but the jacaranda festival is in late October. There were also some magnificent Fig Trees.






It is a cathedral city and I visited Christ Church Cathedral which was opened and dedicated in 1884. I saw there was to be a Eucharist service at 12.30 for the Feast of the Transfiguration and although I did not hurry I found I had completed the western section of the walk and was back near the cathedral at that time so attended.

A young woman deacon took the service and spoke both on the fact it was Hiroshima day as well as being the Feast of the Transfiguration and we prayed that the world might be transfigured for Peace. It was my first time of being at a Eucharist which used the Reserved Sacrament as this is not allowed in the Sydney Diocese.

On Friday I travelled by the train the 880 km back to Sydney taking 10 hours then again the nearly 2 hours back to the mountains. The lovely warm winter weather I had experienced all week changed to cold winds and showers but luckily I only had the cold winds for my long walk homein the dark from the station.

Today I set off for my usual trip to the city for the service of Eucharist at St James. When I reached the station they were announcing the train was running over 30 minutes late. If I had chosen to drive I would not have been able to park as the City to Surf Race is on today and its starts very close to the church. So I returned home, thankful I had received the Eucharist on Thursday.

Memory of Mum - A Hundred Years

Mum was born on 7th August 1909.
Today would have been her 100th birthday.
However Mum died on 6th July 2006 just short of her 97th birthday.

I remember praying she would reach 90 then that she would see the 21st Century, then that she would reach 95.
I wanted her to reach 100 and receive a message from the Queen. However she was too ill, she wanted to go and it was not to be. Caring for her was taking a big toll on my sister.
God knew it was time to call her home.

At the memorial service, Sue concluded her sermon with:

Marge was intelligent, thoughtful and a woman of God. She listened to God's voice, and when she believed she could hear it, she would welcome it and say amen. I'm sure our inclusive God has already welcomed her home, but I know I will remember her as a woman ahead of her time, who saw Jesus as representing a God in whom there are no exclusions. She would often tell me how much she agreed with something I'd said, and always it was something about being more inclusive and less exclusive. If only the church would hear the feelings and opinions of people like Marge. God go with you all as you journey on the difficult road of living without her physical presence. In spirit I have no doubt she will always be with us. Amen.

Happy Birthday Mum, I miss you.

Travel North by West

I have travelled by train 640 km north west of Sydney to a town called Moree.
My overseas readers will be interested in the names of some of the towns through which we passed.
Murrurundi, Quirindi, Gunnedah, Boggabri and Narrabri.
I guess these are all words of the Gamilaraay language spoken by the Kamilaroi Aboriginal people who live in this area.
I left home just before 7.30am as I had to drag my bag up hill the kilometre to the station, I usually drive.
After my usual train trip to Sydney the country train left just after 10am and arrived Moree at 7pm. Due to my age I receive 4 free vouchers for country train travel within the state each year. I am using 2 of them for the 3 journeys this trip.

Moree has a population of 10,000 with another 15,000 in the surrounding shire. It is fairly flat country producing cattle, sheep, grain crops, cotton and pecan nuts.

Having taken 2 self-guided tours yesterday morning I am now very familiar with the historic buildings and the parks which are nice and green at the end of winter but lacking in flowers this early. Apparently jacarandas and roses would be more evident in late spring.
I visited the art gallery in an old bank building built in 1910. The gallery mainly contained works of the Kamilaroi people. The oldest intact buildings date from the 1890’s. Floods and fires have removed the older ones. Moree was discovered by white explorers in the 1830’s.

All Saints Anglican church was built in 1936. It is in the diocese of Armidale. Armidale is also an evangelical diocese, in fact a greater proportion of its clergy are evangelical than in Sydney. The bishop was trained at Moore College. However, unlike the Sydney bishops, he attended Lambeth. Women are ordained to the priesthood but cannot be in charge of a parish. Being a weekday, the church was closed but I was pleased to see that they have 2 services of Holy Communion every Sunday with an informal service in the evening. This is like the church in which I grew up, evangelical but Anglican. I probably would not agree with them on acceptance of homosexuality but at least they are not trying to split the Communion over a disagreement.

The main reason people visit Moree is to go to the Artesian Baths so I went there in the afternoon. The Great Artesian Basin underlies 20% of the Australian continent. It allowed the development of the grazing industry in Queensland and Northern NSW. The mineral content is too high for cropping.
The Moree bore was sunk in 1895 and is naturally heated by the rocks to 40’C. It is suppose to be healthy and one lady told me she spends 3 weeks in Moree every year.

While I took every chance as a child, teenager and young man to go swimming, I now suffer the effects of the sun in those days. I was not happy unless I was a deep shade of brown, and while I was not muscular at least my body was slim. Sadly I now do not want to display my lily white blotched body and middle age spread. So I have not been swimming for over 15, probably nearer 20 years.

However at the Moree Baths I was probably the youngest taking the waters and certainly my body did not stand out.

I did venture over to the normal baths which are also heated but only to 27’C to check if I remembered how to swim and almost managed 2 laps, having to take a breather two thirds through the 2nd. So that is good to know.

The Moree Baths were a target of a anti-discrimination campaign in 1965 when Freedom riders travelled to the town by bus because Aboriginal people were notallowed in the baths. The leader was Charles Perkins who was the first Aborigine to gain a University degree. He was awarded it in 1966 on the same day as I was awarded my degree. He received a much bigger round of applause, deservedly so.

Moree once had reputation for racial problems but a man on the train told me things had been much better in the last 20 years.

Today I am taking a bus from the plains, across the tablelands and down to the coast , country called Big River Country.

Cassowary - I am woman, hear me roar

Last week I watched a documentary on Cassowaries.
I did not know much about them before except they were found in North Queensland and should be treated with respect.
I think they should be taken as a mascot for all women.
The female is much larger than the male. She may take up to 3 males in a season and seems to do the choosing.
Having laid her eggs, her work is finished, no dreary child care for her.
The male incubates the eggs, and they may not be all his, for about 50 days in which he rarely leaves them in search of food and water. He loses weight. Once hatched the male cares for the chicks for about 9 months.

He may even have to guide the chicks to safety if the mother comes round and wants to feed in the same area.

At the end of the 9 months the chicks are suddenly left to fend for themselves when Mother finally takes an interest in Dad again and drives away the offspring.

I am invincible
I am strong
I am woman

I am taking a small holiday to the north of my state of New South Wales. Am taking the laptop as the motels advertise wifi but in case that does not eventuate, any comments may not be vetted.

You Raise Me Up

Whenever I become disillusioned with the goings on in the Anglican Communion and the homophobic attacks of the local Diocese, I can always be uplifted by seeing a post from Maithri. He always displays what Christian Love is all about.
His latest post is well worth visiting.
I was brought up to believe that Evangelicals had the real Truth. I found teaching work in a Catholic school and my eyes were opened. The De La Salle Brothers and other visiting priests also had a handle on the truth and certainly displayed more Christian Love. 'You Raise Me Up' was a song we sang often during my years teaching at Benilde College.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.

Arguments against Religion

Hat tip to The Three Legged Stool

There is a line in the great literary work Brideshead Revisited. Charles has been listening to the dinner conversation at the Marchmain table. After Bridie finishes talking about religion, Charlies replies: "You know, Bridie, if ever I were thinking of becoming a Catholic, one conversation with you would end that."

It's sad, but like Bridie, one of the best arguments against religion is Peter Jensen.

I could add Phillip Jensen and the many others in control of the Diocese of Sydney. Throw in Cardinal Pell as well and you can understand why Sydney is known as a godless city.

I have been uncomfortable with Father Dave's Boxing groups and he and I have discussed that at Caliban's Dream. However I guess there are many ways to assist young people. I congratulate him heartily on his recent attempts to provide a forum to at least listen to gay people.

The Jensen's only listen to hate mongerers like Akinola.

Darwin Cathedral

Our Patronal festival was an inspiring service. I even enjoyed the choir singing Mozart.

The church was packed for the service which took about 2 hours and the front was draped with huge red banners and red ribbons on many of the pews.
The preacher was the Dean of Darwin Cathedral, the Very Reverend Jeremy Greaves.
He was very easy to watch (mea culpa) and also to hear.

There was laughter as he told us he appreciated wearing the cope in Sydney but not always in Darwin. It is now mid-winter, minimum temperatures in Darwin falling to about 18'C (64'F) while average maximum are still in the low 30'sC (80'sF).
In Sydney on Sunday the temperature struggled to 15'c (59'F).
He, however, also referred to the plight of homeless Aborigines who sleep in the grounds of the Darwin Cathedral and he had pitied the homeless sleeping in the porch of the courthouse next to St James.
He told us how, in his previous parish at Katherine, every night he had to deal with trouble in the Aborigine camps surrounding the church and one night, feeling rather grumpy after a long day, he had sent his wife to the door when the bell rang about 10.30pm. She called him and he found a man who had been living in the grounds for about 3 months wanting to present him with a bark painting as he was returning to his tribal grounds. Jeremy admitted he wept.

In referring to St James the Great he told a possibly apocryphal story of a church in England dedicated to St James the Less. It was down a side street and, wanting to advertise its presence, mounted a neon sign on the roof. Unfortunately what was seen from the main street was 'St James the Less Anglican". His comment that he did not want that to be taken as a reference to our diocese had us in stitches.
On a more serious note he lamented that liberal churches were not always passionate in expounding our beliefs in the same way as the conservatives are.

Searching for his photo (more mea culpa), I learnt about the history of the cathedral and the diocese.
Darwin was once part of the Diocese of Carpentaria, at that time the largest (in area) Anglican Diocese in the world. The Diocese of Northern Territory was inaugurated in 1968 and the first bishop was Bishop Ken Mason.
Bishop Ken Mason usually sits a few pews in front of me each Sunday. I have heard him preach once and I was introduced once at Morning Coffee. He is now rather frail and was on our prayer list recently. I had not realised he was the first.

I googled Darwin Cathedral and was please to see:
At Christ Church Cathedral we seek to share God’s unconditional love of all people regardless of age, race, sex, marital or family status, sexual orientation, ability or wealth. Every endeavour is made to make Christ Church a safe place for all. We discourage being judgemental, but seek to affirm one another as equally loved by God.

The cathedral/church has had a chequered history.

In the severe air raid of 19 February 1942, the church was hit by a bomb that landed at the back of the vestry, blasting out the windows and riddling the roof and walls with shrapnel. Fortunately records and valuables had been trucked inland.

However on Christmas Eve, Cyclone Tracy bore down on Darwin.

About an hour after the midnight service, the church-along with much of the City of Darwin-was rubble. Only the porch was left standing and the church hall was gone. So was the new rectory, built in 1970, and the old rectory, dating from 1917, then the home of the curate and his wife of a few weeks.

This was in the time of Bishop Ken Mason.

A new cathedral has now been built.

My only visit to Darwin was in 1968. I am not fond of visiting hot places but I would like to see the cathedral.

St James the Great

Today is the Festival for St James the Great so tomorrow is our Patronal Festival.
Growing up in Evangelical Churches there was not much, if any, attention paid to this. Most of my childhood and as a teenager, I went to Holy Trinity so I guess that should have been Trinity Sunday. I also worshipped regularly at churches named St Phillip, St Thomas, Emmanuel and St Alban but can never remember a patronal festival.
Last year St James Day was on Friday and we had an Evening service of Eucharist but this year it is being kept up tomorrow, Sunday.
The 9am Sung Eucharist and the 11am Choral Eucharist will be combined at 10am for a Choral Eucharist with lunch aftwerwards.

The stained glass window for St James was moved in 1980's when a new Chapel of the Holy Spirit was built. It is now on the stairway to the Bell Tower which is kept locked for safety reasons. I have never seen it and can only find a black and white photo.

From tomorrow's pew sheet

The Patronal Festival is the occasion on which our parish
church celebrates the patron saint after whom we are named and,
at the same time, celebrates the life, character and calling of this
Christian community.
James was the son of Zebedee and the elder brother of John; like his
brother, he was a fisherman in Galilee with Zebedee, in partnership
with Andrew and Peter. At the call of Jesus he left everything and
followed him.
James, the first of the Apostles to die, was martyred in Jerusalem in
AD 43. According to legend, James had preached in Spain before his
martyrdom and his body was taken to Compostela, a city in northwestern
Spain. He became the patron saint of Spain. His shrine was
the most popular place of pilgrimage in Christendom after Rome
and Jerusalem.
The mosaic in the chancel floor depicts the insignia of St James. The
emblems are the scallop shell of St James’ shrine at Compostela, the
palm of martyrdom, together with the pilgrim’s insignia of the staff,
bag and broad-brimmed hat.
On this Patronal Festival we celebrate our ongoing pilgrimage as
God’s people in this place.
‘‘… of all the ancient Spanish cities, the one that seems to be immobilised in a granite dream, immutable and eternal, is Santiago de Compostela… It does not seem ancient but more eternal... But Compostela, immobilized in the Ecstasis of the pilgrims, joins all her stones in one unique prayer, and the chain of centuries had always, in its echoes, the same resonance. There, the hours are the same hour, eternally repeated under a weeping sky.” — Ramón del Valle-Inclán: La Lámpara Maravillosa

The Collect
O gracious God, whose apostle James left his father and all that he
had, and without delay obeyed the call of your Son Jesus Christ: pour
out upon the leaders of your Church the same spirit of self-denying
service by which alone they may have true authority among your
people; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you
and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

The preacher will be The Very Reverend Jeremy Greaves,
Dean of Darwin

The Gloria, Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei will be sung by the choir from SPATZENMESSE by WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART

But the Processional Hymn is to be: 'For all the Saints who from their labours rest'.

Wonderful.

I know as the choir process in, led by the Censer then the Cross and the candles followed by the banners of all the church organisations, the wardens with their rods, the choir and the deacons and priests in red and finally the President in a glorious red cope singing this wonderful hymn I will be rapt.
Where is the young evangelical man who was taught to sneer at this? If I had not been gay I might be with those drab men in suits and ties leading other churches in this diocese.