Being fully human ...

I didn't know which to go for in choosing today's photo - the sunrise was pale orange and pretty, but in the end I chose the appearance of the sunset some fifteen minutes before it reached the horizon because it seemed more suitable for today's mood. And though less distinct than on the BBC weather forecast's photos from viewers, I think that's the strange cloud formation caused by different wind speeds above and below the cloud. 

Most of our Sunday is dominated, as you will probably have realised, by church. It's not that the service goes on for ever - it's an hour long - and not even that the after-church socialising over coffee does more than have the Rector put out the lights like a pub landlord to get us all to go home; it's not even the obvious factor of having coffee chez nous with Di which goes on even after Himself goes down to get the Sunday and local papers - no: it's the reverberations into the rest of the day, affecting mood and energy levels and determining when or even if we shall rouse ourselves sufficiently to fit in a walk before sunset/dinnertime (whichever comes first) and if we'll have the energy these days to walk the length of ourselves.

Today struck me in several ways. I noticed - with a clarity that has eluded me before - that the arrival in the congregation of two men who have lovely voices and love to sing has had an effect on the other men, who now seem to be singing with far more confidence than I've ever heard them before. And this combined rather marvellously with a new hymn - at least, the words were new; we knew the tune. Words like the opening lines: God of freedom, God of justice,/ God whose love is strong as death ... and goes on Hear the cries of pain and protest ... Now you may well not believe in anything you care to identify as "God", but anyone would be struck with the unanimity and vigour with which I heard the congregation behind me sing these words, as if we were in fact all united in this involvement in the world's pain - and it seemed to me important to be there, among these people, united in a singleness of purpose. And I don't think I can be so involved in anything without exhaustion setting in later - but I wouldn't be without it for the world. 

However, we did go out, and we were rewarded with the sight of the sunset just as our walk ended - ended with the sun suddenly shining on us rather than just on the sea - and we heard a mysterious bird apparently mimicking several other birds in the woodland so that my bird recognition app was totally bamboozled. Dinner was late, and now it's midnight, and I've still not given any idea of why I titled this entry as I did.

It's from that hymn again. Teach us to be fully human,/ open to each other's need.