It Comes from Nowhere

I lay the events of a mere twenty minutes or so on Sunday out, not to complain, just as an illustration.

It's the main service, at which I've been deaconing and preaching, and our curate presiding. It's her birthday, and there will be cake-cutting and card-presenting afterwards. Firstly, my microphone has been shrieking and howling, which always gets on my nerves as it can scupper the effectiveness of the service on its own. That's sorted out. Then as the notices proceed I call people's attention to my letter about signing up to a list to give our more infirm members lifts to church. At that point I notice one elderly lady is being given water and fanned, and is then removed aboard our communal wheelchair. When this happens as a minister, you face the decision what to do - how far to acknowledge the interruption. In this case, as we began the final hymn, I decided that as there were two of us up front I should go and check and leave our curate to dismiss the people. All turned out to be well with the lady, she'd just come over faint. 'We need a new wheelchair' declared one of the people who'd taken her out. 'This one's broken and folds up when you sit in it'. As this is the third time this has been said to me I say with some restraint: 'NO IT ISN'T. THERE'S A CLIP YOU HAVE TO PUT ON.' I am not a technically-minded person, but it took me approximately ten seconds to discover how to work the wheelchair. I will now have to put a label on the thing reading something like NOW SECURE THE CLIP!!!

Into the refreshments after the service. I've spotted two couples who are in church to hear their marriage banns read for the final time, so I will have to print banns certificates and take their payments. I can't get at the computer because one of the lads from Junior Church is arranging a birthday card for the curate. Eventually he's finished, but I can't find the certificate to print off. Finally I work out this is because you need to be logged on as the church secretary to see all the documents on the hard disk. While I'm engaged in this, I'm astonished to hear the sound of a large pair of hands loudly being clapped and the congregation in the hall being called to order by a helpful gentleman who takes it upon himself to organise these things. His wife appears, to tell me 'You're wanted!' Really? Am I really? I am abundantly aware that I am supposed to lead the congratulations of the curate's anniversary and initiate cake distribution; scant minutes ago there was a vast queue snaking back into the church awaiting coffee and tea. And now I'm actually being FORCED to do the ceremonial bit to somebody else's assessment of priorities as though I was sat in the office farting about on Facebook. 'Were you in a bad mood?' says the curate at the evening service. 'I didn't notice so I doubt anybody else did'. Bad mood? They're lucky they got out with the usual number of limbs each.

There will, in future, be a little stack of banns certificates, as an alternative to maiming the congregation.