A Matter of Time

The new-ish contemplative service on the third Sunday evening in the month was over. I've been trying this since September: there are very simple, regular prayers, a reading, and two blocks of music, swirly kaleidoscope patterns projected on the rear wall, a few candles and a bit of smoke, and the Lord joins us in the monstrance. There had been, as usual, a small but appreciative congregation. I was just about to start packing up when Ellie who had attended came back in with the news that 'you've got two more takers who thought it was a 6.30 start'. That turned out to be Malcolm and Dora who are far too regular church members to get something as basic as this wrong. I was very apologetic and in these circumstances you doubt your own self even if you are in the majority. '6 is a bangin' time for me and Katie', Ellie said encouragingly. Once everyone had gone ('Well it's a nice evening for a walk' offered Malcolm) I checked the service register: this service has always been at 6, not 6.30, since I started it. It is fascinating that two people can get this wrong independently. It is the case that evening services at Swanvale Halt are often at 6.30 unless there's a good reason why they shouldn't be (it's a bit early for Compline, for instance) and I suppose in their minds people might group this one with those. I do the same: I still shudder at the memory of the time I turned up late at a service in a neighbouring parish having convinced myself they started at 10.30am, just about on time to preach even if it would have been more help had I presided too. Many has been the time I have waited to see, say, a banns couple at the church only to find they have been waiting at my house where we'd agreed to meet. I strive to stop this and it hasn't happened for a while - but who knows how long my triumph over myself will last?!