Just thought I would remind readers who live near enough to Walsall about our Singing the Faith workshop this Saturday (29th October)
The event will take place at Bentley Methodist Church, Margaret Road, Bentley, Walsall, WS2 0HB and will run from 10a.m. until 4p.m. with an admission charge of £2 per person. Any one attending will need to bring a packed lunch but tea and coffee will be provided during the day.
The workshop will be led by two members of the worship resource group Revs Ian Worsfold and Paul Wood and we will be singing a number of items from Singing the Faith so it will be quite interactive.
For readers who may not know Singing the Faith is the new Methodist Hymn book that was launched at the Methodist Conference this year and one of its aims is to keep the Methodist people singing through a book that combines old, not so old and new in one collection.
I am looking forward to the day which is open really to anyone with an interested in learning a little more about the new book and perhaps learning the odd new hymn or two.
If you are a reader of this blog and you come along please make sure you say hello to me as I am always interested in meeting readers.
1 comment:
I hope you had a few readers say g'day at the Singing the Faith workshop. Unfortunately I'm too far away to say hello in person. I thought though that I'd share this (rather long but worth it) poem with you:
Ballad of the Totems by Oodgeroo Noonuccal
My father was Noonuccal man and kept old tribal way,
His totem was the Carpet Snake, whom none must ever slay;
But mother was of Peewee clan, and loudly she expressed
The daring view that carpet snakes were nothing but a pest.
Now one lived inside with us in full immunity,
For no one dared to interfere with father's stern decree:
A mighty fellow ten feet long, and as we lay in bed
We kids could watch him round a beam not far above our head.
Only the dog was scared of him, we'd hear in whines and growls,
But mother fiercely hated him because he took her fowls,
You should have heard her diatribes that flowed in angry torrents,
With words you'd never see in print,
except in D H Lawrence.
"I kill that robber" she would scream, fierce as a spotted cat;
"You see that bulge inside of him?
My speckly hen make that!"
But father's loud and strict command made even mother quake;
I think he'd sooner kill a man than kill a carpet snake.
That reptile was a greedy guts, and as each bulge digested
He'd come down on the hunt at night, as appetite suggested.
We heard his stealthy slithering sound across the earthen floor,
While the dog gave a startled yelp and bolted out the door.
Then over in the chicken-yard hysterical fowls gave tongue,
Loud frantic squawks accompanied by the barking of the mung,
Until at last the racket passed, and then to solve the riddle,
Next morning he was back up there with a new bulge in the middle.
When father died we wailed and cried, our grief was deep and sore,
And strange to say from that sad day the snake was seen no more.
The wise old men explained to us:
"It was his tribal brother,
And that is why it done a guy" - but some looked hard at mother.
She seemed to have a secret smile, her eyes were smug and wary,
She looked about as innocent as the cat that ate the pet canary.
We never knew, but anyhow(to end this tragic rhyme)
I think we all had snake for tea one day about that time.
Pam
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