Growing Up (part one)

Sunday Service, 28 July 2024

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Members of the Congregation

Musical Prelude: 3 Old Viennese Dances – Fritz Kreisler – I. Liebesfreud – Love’s Joy (performed by Sydney Mariano and Andrew Robinson)

Opening Words: ‘We Gather’ by Gary Kowalski

We gather here to worship:

to seek the truth, to grow in love, to join in service;

to celebrate life’s beauty and find healing for its pain;

to honour our kinship with each other and with the earth;

to create a more compassionate world,

beginning with ourselves;

to wonder at the mystery that gave us birth;

to find courage for the journey’s end;

and to listen for the wisdom that guides us

in the quietness of this moment. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These opening words by Gary Kowalski welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those of you who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone watching on YouTube or listening to the podcast. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

This morning’s service is the first of a two-part exploration of ‘Growing Up’. This week and next we’ll be considering what it means to ‘grow up’ – what it looks and feels like as a lived experience – and how our perspective on that might change over the course of our lives. What are the turning points in our lives which perhaps push us into growing up, taking more responsibility – whether we or not we feel ready to be the adult in the room? Today we’ll hear from five members of the congregation – Charlotte, Alex, Brian, Pat, and Marianne – who will share their diverse reflections on the theme – and next week I’ll build on that with some reflections on this book titled ‘When I Grow Up: Conversations with Adults in Search of Adulthood’ which inspired me to pick this theme.

Chalice Lighting: ‘Opening to the Light’ by SarahRuth Wekoye Davis (adapted)

Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to set aside any preoccupations that we came in carrying, a time to focus our attention in the here and now, and set our intention for this precious hour of peace, as we co-create this sacred space. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.

(light chalice)

We light this chalice in the name of holy love.

We light this chalice with an open heart;

We light this chalice with resolve.

We light this chalice in hope,

a tiny flame we nurture.

We light this chalice with reverence,

for this place, for these people, for this time.

We light this chalice with all our soul’s longing,

to be who we are, to be who will we will become,

to be ourselves, in all our fullness, for the greater good of all.

Hymn 62 (purple): ‘Here We Have Gathered’

Let’s sing together. Our first hymn is number 62 in your purple book, ‘Here We Have Gathered’. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all our hymns today). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and let’s sing up as best we can.

Here we have gathered, gathered side by side;

circle of kinship, come and step inside!

May all who seek here find a kindly word;

may all who speak here feel they have been heard.

Sing now together this, our hearts’ own song.

Here we have gathered, called to celebrate

days of our lifetime, matters small and great:

we of all ages, women, children, men,

infants and sages, sharing what we can.

Sing now together this, our hearts’ own song.

Life has its battles, sorrows, and regret:

but in the shadows, let us not forget:

we who now gather know each other’s pain;

kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain.

Sing now in friendship this, our hearts’ own song.

Candles of Joy and Concern:

Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us briefly who or what you light your candle for. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak this time as I really want people to be able to hear you and I don’t want to keep nagging you about getting close to the handheld mic. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring a handheld mic over to you. Thank you.

(in person candles)

And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.

(zoom candles)

And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)

Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Harry Lismer Short

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Harry Lismer Short. They’re quite old fashioned words but I find them quite moving. You might first want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,

we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,

as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom

to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.

Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the

silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)

Here, on this quiet Sunday morning, we have gathered once again,

to seek something without which our lives would be strangely empty.

We cannot always put clearly to ourselves what it is we expect;

but we know that if our hearts are open and receptive,

there is a holy gift to be received from our presence here.

We have come with a sense of responsibility for the world in which we live.

We are deeply concerned about many things which seem to have gone astray.

There are sorrows which touch the lives of others and fears which haunt our own days.

Conflict and unease reverberate amongst our communities, writ large and small.

We have come with a sense of responsibility for our own lives.

We have work to do, in tending to our homes, our relationships, our livelihoods.

Often we grow weary and discouraged, yet we know that others depend on us,

and we strive to be faithful and committed in our endeavours.

We have a sense of responsibility for this congregation too, our spiritual home.

Much depends on our faith in these times of change and strife.

We have a sense of responsibility towards one another

and towards all those whose paths cross ours.

We can make or mar one another’s peace.

We can build one another up, or tear each other down.

We ask for light to see things in proportion;

and to see a little further forward on our way;

and we ask for strength, courage, and patience to walk in it.

We ask for kindness and compassion in our hearts,

to understand the needs of those who depend upon us. (pause)

And in a few minutes of quietness now, let us seek a higher perspective, a longer view;

starting right where we are, let us shift our awareness ever outward, in circles of concern.

Let us bring to mind those we know to be struggling this day – perhaps including ourselves –

those friends and family we hold dearest – our neighbours in community –

others around the globe we may only have heard about on the news.

And let us take time to send prayers of loving kindness to all who suffer. (pause)

Let us look back over the last week, taking time to notice what was good, to count our blessings –

all the ways in which others helped or encouraged us, inspired or delighted us –

all the goodness and beauty we have known even in the mist of struggle.

And let us take time to give prayers of thanks for all we have been given. (pause)

Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close, we offer up

our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,

and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.

As we look forward now to the coming week,

help us to live well each day and be our best selves;

using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen

Hymn 186 (purple): ‘We Are Travellers On a Journey’

Our next hymn is number 186 in your purple books, ‘We Are Travellers on a Journey’. I’m going to ask Andrew to play it through in full before we sing as it’s not one we sing often.

We are travellers on a journey

which brought us from the sun,

when primal star exploded

and earth in orbit spun;

but now as human dwellers

upon earth-planet’s crust,

we strive for living systems

whose ways are kind and just.

We are travellers on a journey

which grows from human seed,

and through our birth and childhood

goes where life’s path may lead;

but now we are delving deeper

in quest of greater worth

and reaching unknown regions

and planets of new birth.

We are travellers on a journey

through realms of inner space

where joy and peace are planets

that circle stars of grace;

and when we find the stillness

which comes at journey’s end,

there’ll be complete refreshment,

a resting place, a friend.

Online Reflection: ‘Growing Up in My Thirties’ by Charlotte Chanteloup

Since the winter of 2023, I’ve been reborn.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety since I was 8 years old. Although I felt mostly loved during my childhood, I don’t particularly recall it fondly. But I’ve been healing the child I was, little by little, over the past two years.

Now, the responsibilities of being a grown up are sometimes challenging. Caring for my mum as she was dying of cancer, dealing with the healthcare professionals and then the paperwork when she passed certainly made me feel like a grown-up. I felt too young at 29 to be dealing with these things but I was able to handle it as well as one could be expected, I think. These days, my challenges are simpler: dealing with the bank about my loan, organising appointments for my car, taking the time to invest in friendships when we don’t see each other every day at school.

But with these challenges, I’m also able to do things I wasn’t allowed to do as a child. If I’m in town on a sunny day and I want an ice cream, I’ll just buy one! If I’m in a museum and I’m interested by the temporary exhibit, I’ll pay the extra few euros to go!

I saw a uni friend a couple of weeks ago and we were so happy to be in our thirties! We feel less weighed down by social or family expectations. We know ourselves better, we’re more able to assert ourselves, we feel like we’re on steadier ground in the world.

Mostly, what brings me joy these days is spending time with my godson and my nieces. With them, I feel like I see the world in a brand-new way. My godson is starting school in September (and turning 3 in November), and he can count to 10! How exciting! When he sees a lorry or a car or a plane, he will call it out. Aren’t they interesting machines? My nieces had their first Christmas last December, I was so happy for them and I’m looking forward to decorating the tree with them when they’re a bit older. They love music and dancing, I’m glad I can sing to them the nursery rhymes that I learnt as a child.

Seeing them grow up heals me. I love seeing the world through their eyes, when everything is new and interesting and weird.

I also love being able to teach them what I’ve learnt. For example, I have a soft bunny toy to cuddle with. I take him with me when I go somewhere overnight. A few years ago, I would have been ashamed to “still” have a cuddly toy. Now, I don’t care, and I’ve told my godson’s 6-year-old sister that I have one. Just because I pay taxes doesn’t mean I can’t like snuggling with a plushie! She was surprised (her parents too!) but moved on pretty quickly. After all, there are better things to do with our time, like playing and colouring!

Online Reflection: ‘Growing Up Never Ends’ by Alex Brianson

It’s a strange thing, growing up. When I was younger, back in the days when my neighbours were a family of pterodactyls, I thought it was a once-and-you’re-done thing: you reach a certain age and then BLAM you’ve grown up. You’re an adult and fully-formed. Ha.

Of course the reality is very different. In some ways, I was very grown up even in my teens: I took my responsibilities seriously, didn’t shirk tasks, and always made sure there was in-date food and cleaning materials in my shared student accommodation. I was a bit like Saffy from Absolutely Fabulous in that way, though spurred on not by a chaotic parent but by what I now know was an autistic need for security and order.

In other ways, though, I had a lot of growing up to do. For a gay teenager in 1980s North Wales there weren’t many opportunities to start maturing romantically and sexually, and I had to start all that relatively late. I had a pretty simplistic idea of the world and the people in it, divided into the good guys and the bad guys on simple moral criteria. I still have many of the values that underpinned that separation, but I had to learn to see grey rather than simply black and white. I also – and not surprisingly given what I’ve just said – had to learn the dangers of both perfectionism and the self-flagellation I meted out for failures to implement it. To some extent this is an ongoing process for me, but I have grown into a more tolerant and mature understanding here. Which is just as well because I’ve also learned to know my shadow side over years of therapy, and that kind of self-knowledge requires a maturity that I didn’t have even ten years ago.

I’ve done a lot of growing up spiritually too. I always had faith, but it was coloured by a fair amount of ignorance for all its fire and sense of the need to fight injustice. I’ve been a spiritual traveller for about 40 years now, and learned so much as a result. I’ve learned to be open to new understandings and to positively enjoy not just the learning but the jettisoning of ways of thinking and being that no longer fit.

It’s given me the knowledge that life, and me as part of it, is always flowing, and every stance or view I adopt is provisional rather than definitive. I’ve learned to rather love that too, because it brings the perspective that failures and shortcomings can be made good. But I don’t believe that growing up has to mean woolly beige compromise is all you can achieve; politically I’m more rather than less radical at 54, now that I understand how the political economy we live in functions.

So what I’ve learned about growing up is this: it’s a ride at the fairground, risky and invigorating. It’s a challenge, and it works at different speeds in the multiple aspects of life. It’s ongoing. And it’s really, really, really worthwhile.

Meditation: A Few Quotes on ‘Growing Up’

Thanks Alex and Charlotte. We’re moving into a time of meditation. I’m going to share a few quotes from literary figures on the subject of ‘Growing Up’ – in hope that it’ll spark your own thoughts on what ‘growing up’ means to you – then we’ll hold three minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear some music for our continued reflection. Let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – maybe adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – as we always say, the words are an offering, use this time to meditate in your own way.

Maya Angelou wrote: ‘Most people don’t grow up. It’s too damn difficult. What happens is

most people get older. That’s the truth of it. They honour their credit cards, they find

parking spaces, they marry, they have the nerve to have children, but they don’t grow up.’

Virginia Woolf wrote: ‘Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.’

e. e. cummings wrote: ‘It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.’

So let’s take those thoughts on ‘growing up’ into a time of shared stillness now.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell

Interlude: 3 Old Viennese Dances – Fritz Kreisler – II. Liebesleid – Love’s Sorrow (performed by Sydney Mariano and Andrew Robinson)

In-Person Reflection: ‘Growing Up after Loss’ by Brian Ellis

I was thirteen and my father was in the late stages of terminal cancer, at home, being cared for by my mother.

Knowing that he was going to die, I had time to think about what life might be like without him there. But at thirteen, not having the maturity to really understand what this would mean, it was all rather hazy and inconsequential in the actuality of his dying.

The cancer was progressing, and he was having some difficulties communicating, but we would have a chat each morning when I went in to his bedroom to say I was off to school.

On the morning of my fourteenth birthday I went in and he looked at me a little puzzled, turned to my mother, who was trying to give him some breakfast, and said ‘who’s that?’.

She, with a little difficulty said, ‘it’s Brian, our son, it’s his fourteenth birthday today’.

He looked at us both and drifted away into a world of his own. He didn’t recognise me again and died three days later.

That day at school I struggled with what felt like a rejection from the safe and comfortable world of home and school, from the security of a shared relationship where I went to help him in his caretaking job and in doing things around the house, from the hours of playing games, listening to the radio, doing drawings together….

I hadn’t been able to work out what life would be like when he died, but suddenly, and before he died, the question ‘who’s that?’, and the sense of rejection that came from it began to clarify the reality of what the future would be like.

Half of my previous life would still be there with my mother’s presence, but I would now have to start to rebuild the other half myself. I felt afraid, feeling that I wasn’t capable of doing that, the reality of what my father’s death would mean becoming all too clear.

In-Person Reflection: ‘Still Growing’ by Pat Gregory

I was born in London to a large dysfunctional family of hard drinkers. My dad was a complex man who had served in the army and was strict on discipline, so everything had to be done correctly and by his rules. He was often kind and funny but could turn violent over the smallest of things. He had a love of weapons, so the house had many guns, knives and air rifles! My mum had many mental health issues, obviously this was not helped by a husband who was so controlling. I remember her as a sad and scared person who would try to kill herself when life got too overwhelming.

I was the last child of seven, and all of us spent some time in care. Home life was unstable as there was always tension, but we learnt to navigate this by staying out of the way and self-isolating as much as possible. We were taught to trust no-one, never cry or show weakness and never speak about our family life especially to the authorities. We were visited regularly by social workers, police, probation officers and the fire brigade as my brother had a passion for starting fires. We didn’t talk a lot and there were no books in the house so most of my time was spent with our animals especially my cat Prudence.

Being in this climate did not involve much joy and I was a serious child who grew up too quickly, learning to act tough and not wanting people around me. I often wondered why I had been born.

When I was around 12 my dear cat died and it felt like the end of the world – there was no-one to talk with and crying was still forbidden. I remember sitting in the garden and inwardly asking for help. I felt the most amazing loving presence and golden light was everywhere. I knew then that I was much more than just this body and so was Prudence my lovely cat. God had my back and my faith was born.

Of course, life took over and I left home as soon as I could, I married young but was ill equipped for any loving relationship, so this ended in divorce. Many years later I had two children, and my life changed completely. I loved being with youngsters, so I trained to work as a playleader. Part of the training was to observe children playing and write what we saw without judgment or opinions. This I found easy and enjoyable but more importantly it opened something else in me. Could I do this for myself? I was always self-critical and believed that I was unlovable and unwanted –so through meditation I questioned these thoughts and realised that these were mistaken beliefs I had carried from my childhood, there was no truth in them. But I needed to find ways of dismantling these deeply ingrained beliefs. I became interested in A Course of Miracles and also Buddhism and these teachings were invaluable. I learnt to trust and accept what I was feeling and began to know that what had happened to me is not who I am. I also joined the congregation at Essex Church and felt included and relaxed in this unchurchlike but sacred community. I could be myself.

In the Course of Miracles it says “Seek not to change the world, but choose to change your mind about the world”. – this for me was a game changer – I could not change my past but I could change the way I looked at it. I began to see that what happened to me was not to me but for me. I felt enormous gratitude towards my family because through my experiences I had learnt empathy for others who suffer, I could sit with uncomfortable feelings and I could hold a space and listen to the hardest of stories. This served me well in my job as a Community Worker and the local people I served were great teachers. There were tears but much laughter too and I learnt to open my heart to the love that surrounded me.

I am still growing up and learning to surrender completely and give all to God. To trust that I am safe and all is well.

In-Person Reflection: ‘A Letter to my Grandson for his 18th Birthday’ by Marianne Harvey

My beautiful Grandson,

You are eighteen years of today and I have probably been gone awhile.

Do not be sad, I will be with you today, as all other days.

Today is a very special day for you and you must have grown so much since this letter has been written. Writing a letter to you was your Mum’s idea; the amazing thing is that I see her lovely face in your face every day as you laugh or sleep peacefully.

You are only one, but so strong already, showing off how you can stand all by yourself and with such confidence already. We see each other every day and every day we laugh and roll on the floor with Pooh Bear and Peter Rabbit and you want to look at the books constantly, most of them you have half eaten already. I am 73 years old and thanks to you, my beautiful Grandson, I finally can be as silly as I want to be.

The words that follow must be taken with a pinch of salt, they are not set in stone, life flows and changes all the time. Whether your heart choses to sing or paint or make music let it sing freely, speak freely, move freely,

Be kind with people who seem different:

We all bleed the same colour

Be just, see humanity in all people,

Notice their dignity, even if it is not obvious at first;

And if you are like me, you will let your heart be taken

by animals, maybe dogs and cats and dinosaurs until

you get very old like me and love them all

Embrace mysteries that puzzle you

Find comfort in the unknown

Not everything can be explained

Accept your anger, your pain, your mistakes

Just as you accept other’s anger, their pain, their mistakes;

That does not mean you must be a push over,

Yet know that losing is sometimes winning

If your day is sad, give a smile to a stranger,

Keep a few coins in your pocket, if they still exist

beggars whoever they are in much need;

If a seagull steals your sandwich, laugh at its cheek

If someone pays you a compliment, accept it readily.

If a child makes a face at you in the train

Pull your tongue at him as far out as you can.

Be happy now : do not postpone your happiness

Live each day as if it were your last

See other’s sorrow and joys and know you are not alone;

When you feel someone’s pain be kind, but it is their pain

When sorrow engulfs you, remember that better days do come.

You must have heard about my love for gardening.

Be naughty sometimes and drop some slugs in the garden next door;

Bindweed if unchecked will invade the garden

Perhaps it should be allowed one flower? They are quite beautiful

Love all animals and treat them with respect:

Let butterflies be, they only live a few days.

Listen to the blackbird at dusk and whistle back at her,

Lift the spider from the sink and carry it outside,

Be curious of all wild creatures, they only look different,

We have not yet learnt to speak their language;

Discover the wild is your connection to the Eternal.

In terms of practical advice, I may not be the best to tell:

Save for a rainy day, life is so very short.

When someone is speaking, wait until they are finished.

If you can, find truthful words that will make them feel good.

Don’t take onboard unfair or unkind words,

They do not belong to your lovely heart!

Take good care of our living earth, it needs us

Do small things for it if you can

Grand gestures of generosity are great

But daily small ones are just as good

Be a bit weary of politicians and the media,

That means keep your eyes and ears open;

Make up your own mind on all things

Know that your parents’s advice is well meaning;

They have lived longer and know a thing or two

Most of all they love you deeply

May your unique journey be safe:

I pray that you will know no wars.

Protect and love your body, protect and love your mind.

Be bold in your choices, take your rightful place in the world.

Think about me now and then and I will come in your heart

Know that the love I feel for you is fierce

It will burn for you and light up all of your days.

Hymn 88 (purple): ‘Let it Be a Dance’

Thanks Marianne, Pat, and Brian – and again to Charlotte and Alex – for sharing your reflections. And that’s not the end of our exploration of ‘Growing Up’ – we’ll be returning to the theme next week to dig a bit deeper. Time for our last hymn now, it’s number 88 in your purple books, ‘Let it Be a Dance’.

Let it be a dance we do.

May I have this dance with you?

Through the good times and the bad times, too,

let it be a dance.

Let a dancing song be heard.

Play the music, say the words,

and fill the sky with sailing birds.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

Learn to follow, learn to lead,

feel the rhythm, fill the need

to reap the harvest, plant the seed.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance we do.

May I have this dance with you?

Through the good times and the bad times, too,

let it be a dance.

Everybody turn and spin,

let your body learn to bend,

and, like a willow in the wind,

let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

A child is born, the old must die;

a time for joy, a time to cry.

Take it as it passes by.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance we do.

May I have this dance with you?

Through the good times and the bad times, too,

let it be a dance.

Morning star comes out at night,

without the dark there is no light.

If nothing’s wrong, then nothing’s right.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance.

Let the sun shine, let it rain;

share the laughter, bear the pain,

and round and round we go again.

Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance we do.

May I have this dance with you?

Through the good times and the bad times, too,

let it be a dance.

Announcements:

Thanks to Jeannene for tech-hosting. If you’re joining on Zoom please do hang on after the service for a chat with Charlotte, our co-host, and if you’re a regular online attender who might be able to help out with co-hosting once in a while do let Charlotte know. Thanks to Charlotte, Alex, Brian, Pat, and Marianne for their reflections. Thanks to Sydney and Andrew for playing for us today. Thanks to Pat for greeting and John for making coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – please do stay for a cuppa and we have red velvet cake today, baked at Jeannene’s request, in belated celebration of her birthday – that’ll be served in the hall next door.

We’ve got the ‘Better World Book Club’ tonight on Zoom when we’ll be talking about ‘Loving Our Own Bones’ by Rabbi Julia Belser. I think we’ll have quite a small group this month, if you are expecting to come along and haven’t yet told me so, give me a shout to get the link. If you want to start reading the book for August we’ll be doing ‘Rest is Resistance’ by Trisha Hersey. I haven’t got the library copies of that yet but will do by next week so let me know if you want one. The next one is on an irregular date, we’ll meet on Bank Holiday Monday, 26th August at 7.30pm. I’ve just released the list of titles for the next six months so I encourage you to join us.

We’ve got an in-person ‘Heart & Soul’ Contemplative Spiritual Gathering online on Friday at 7pm and our theme this week is ‘Meaning-Making’. We gather for sharing and prayer and it is a great way to get to know others on a deeper level. Sign up with me if you’d like the link.

Hannah will be back with Community Yoga on 4th August. And poetry group with Brian on the 7th.

Looking even further ahead a few dates for your diary: Lots going on in September: we’ve got Many Voices back here to sing on 1st September, another tea dance coming up on 8th September, and our ‘Gathering of the Waters’ service on 15th which will be followed by a bring-and-share lunch coordinated by Juliet. Let her know what you plan to bring. And if you go anywhere interesting over the summer please do collect some water for the ceremony.

Next Sunday we’ll be back at 11am when we’ll continue our exploration ‘Growing Up’.

Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email. Please do sign up for the mailing list if you haven’t already. The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.

I think that’s everything. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.

Benediction: based on words by Adam Slate

We end our gathering with gratitude for camaraderie, shared wisdom, goodwill,

and support that we extend to each other within this community.

May we continue to bless each other with these gifts,

and may we reflect those manifold blessings out into the world,

as we go our separate ways, and until we meet again. Amen

Closing Music: 3 Old Viennese Dances – Fritz Kreisler – III. Schön Rosmarin – Fair Rosemary (performed by Sydney Mariano and Andrew Robinson)

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Members of the Congregation

Sunday 28th July 2024