Atherton Walking Day 1950

Atherton Walking Day (24 June 1950)

Atherton Walking Day (25 June 1950)

Having just uncovered these two photographs, releasing them from their glass and passepartout frames, a sudden surge of nostalgia overwhelmed me ( memories of mugs of black peas during Wakes week in  this Lancashire town - came to the fore!).

On the back of the makeshift frames, my father (who was at that time a pastor with the International Holiness Mission - soon to be taken over by the Church of the Nazarene) had written the dates as shown above. I know that the 24th June was a Saturday so, I suspect that is more likely to be the correct date.

Church walking days seemed to have been a strong tradition in the North West of England but, I've been unable to confirm the date of such walks in Atherton. My first instinct was to think it would have been a Whitsuntide walk as such events were held in some of the other chapels, scattered around the country, that I attended during my childhood, but that would have been at the end of  May (not June). I have subsequently discovered that different churches in different parts of the North West held their walks on different days.

Just hoping that, on an off-chance, someone reading this may be able to answer my question regarding the date of this walk.


Incidentally, the David arrowed in my crude annotation is my elder brother.

(clicking on either image will take you to a larger copy of the picture)

A Sense of Betrayal

Yesterday morning, when my beloved was returning from a coffee morning she met two acquaintances who used to attend the church where we met. This church, in Harrogate, is a thriving CofE evangelical outpost, well attended by its middle class constituency, many of whom travel from their own parish, and across others, to attend because of the bold proclamation of the "good news". Doubtless others attend to help ensure a place at the highly regarded CofE secondary school in the (not too distant) vicinity.

When I say thriving I refer to bums on seats, house groups, womens groups, children and youth groups, regular Alpha courses and all the usual trimmings. The couple, who met and spoke to my wife this morning, told of their loss of faith. This loss of faith was due in no small part to what I would consider a betrayal on the part of the church.

The lady of the couple had suffered some mental health problems and, during this time wasn't always able (or feeling like) attending worship. Prior to this health breakdown they'd not only been regular attenders for worship, members of a house group, they'd also been participants in the church's away weekends. Once the mental health affliction struck, there were no visits or enquiries as to her health or their absence from either cleric or lay members of the church, not even from members of the house group. My first thought was that maybe the people in that particular church are shamefully unable to cope with the stigma of mental illness but then, I began to wonder whether it would have been any different had the ailment been purely physical in nature. A sense of loneliness and isolation is frequently accompanies a mental health problem and, when your "friends", "brother and sisters in Christ", neglect you that can only add to a feeling of alienation.

It's one thing to preach the gospel and offer your symbolic and ritual support to sundry worthy causes but, when it comes to hands on practice what hope is there. If one cannot care for those within their own church family, what expectation is there that they will serve their fellow man in society at large.

As a Christian, I would be most relieved if I could think that this was a one off case of neglect but, sadly, from my own experience I know different. This is a church with which I was vitally affiliated throught the 1990's and into the noughties; at different times involved in house groups as both participant and leader / enabler, even assisting on the Alpha course. From summer of 2000 until my collapse with M.E. in late 2003 I was caretaker / steward for this church. Having kept going through sundry ailments, serving many unpaid hours beyond those for which I was salaried, a series of collapses led to my resignation. At this time only condemnation was experienced from the clergy, for "letting us down", with very little consideration for my well-being. I suspect that the hyperactive vicar was ill-equipped to cope with illness, outside of any glaringly physical manifestation.

My beloved continued to attend this very well attended church, on her own, when I was no longer able to make it, being housebound for considerable periods. Her experience was one of loneliness. No-one ever visited or even made any enquiries as to how I was coping!

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This posting should be read in conjunction with Matthew 25 vv. 42 - 45

A furthe posting for today, A WELCOME IS EXTENDED?, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Let The Sunshine ...

Glorious sunshine today, rather too warm to risk doing too much pottering about and, Cathy who had joined us for lunch (one of my special chicken & vegetable Madras dishes, served with saffron rice and a side-dish of tomatoes and cucumber in natural yoghurt) basked on one of our sun-loungers close to the garden pond, whilst my beloved sought the shade of the parasol.

Heat notwithstanding, after a little postprandial rest, my beloved boldly managed to fight a victorious struggle with invasive ground elder and yellow loosestrife as she cleared some of the shadier areas of the garden for me to plant some of the pansies we’d been given yesterday.

Having mentioned yesterday, I should mention our enjoyment of Afternoon Tea in the local Methodist Chapel. Although the chapel has not been used for worship for a considerable time, the former members (now dispersed elsewhere in the circuit) meet occasionally for coffee mornings and other social events, the proceeds from which all go to charity. Although I never actually attended this chapel, I’m made to feel very much a part of the community.

Had this event been on Friday, I certainly wouldn’t have been in any fit state to attend, the entire day having been spent, by yours truly, in an achingly exhausted woozily zonked-out state of being. Much of this zonked-out state, I suspect, was in response to the previous days acupuncture treatment. The overall effects of the treatment, in terms of pain-relief and energy boosting, are invariably most beneficial but, I have rather learned to expect this preliminary slump before the positivity shines through.

The Syro-Phoenician Woman

Having just read a most enlightening posting about The Samaritan Woman on KHANYA blog, I was in some way reminded of this Bible Study on our HelMals website.



Mark 7 vv.24-30 The Syro-Phoenician Woman

Before I returned to this passage, it was already obvious (to me) that the passage was about ‘inclusiveness’ …… a) A Gentile b) A Woman, neither of which were qualities to be valued within the Jewish orthodoxies of the time, dares to approach this itinerant Jewish preacher. I had not
foreseen / remembered the dynamite of this encounter!

Jesus responds to this woman’s plea, by offering a rather offhand Jewish comment about Gentiles being dogs and, implying His duty was to feed the children … the chosen ones. The woman dares a riposte … “even dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the children’s table”.

Jesus listens to the woman, sees her need, acknowledges the truth of her response. Her faith was to express her need. Jesus didn’t approach her as a lost soul; He listens to her need, already expressed by seeking Jesus out, the depth of her need / faith being re-affirmed by her riposte. This woman, an outsider from the church, expresses her faith in a very direct manner. She approaches Jesus out of concern for her child.

Sometimes we may have to question what we think the Lord is calling us to do. Jesus turns the other cheek …. He doesn’t turn around and say “you’ve challenged the word of the Lord” and give up on her as a lost cause, rather, He acknowledges her honest need and acts upon it. Her challenge, her act of faith results in the healing of her daughter.

Because we as Christians “know” what people need, we can so easily fail to listen, especially if what they have to say challenges our
preconceptions. Jesus didn’t see the challenge as an avoidance of
commitment; in her challenge he saw her faith.

A person’s race, religion, sexuality, social status, are unimportant; their needs are important! Perhaps one day the wrong kind of person will be the one who removes the beam from our own eye.

Malcolm Evison

A True Thanksgiving

Sometimes a very basic foodstuff can seem extra exciting; in this instance I’m referring to a simple baked potato, served with stew and a few garden peas, as the main course at a community meal at the local Methodist chapel last evening. I really must find out who supplied the potatoes, and what variety they were; the nicest baked potato I’ve tasted in several years.

This particular chapel no longer serves as a place of worship, having been closed in the course of circuit re-organization, but its former congregation, who were forced to disperse to other churches in the broader vicinity, still meet together for coffee mornings and the occasional communal meal. There is a very strong sense of fellowship at these gatherings and, any proceeds raised from the events, less expenses, go to a worthwhile cause either locally or abroad. Although it was not the church that I attended, the warmth of welcome received was a real treat.

Much as I appreciated the symbols of the communion service, in times when I was more able to regularly attend worship, I couldn’t help but feel that this was a true eucharist.

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A later posting for today, A QUESTION OF IMBALANCE, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Normal Service will be resumed

It really feels good to see ma belle back more to her normal self; the fact that she was able to taste the chicken paprika I’d prepared for Sunday dinner is just an added bonus. Sadly, she had to miss her surgery’s belated Christmas dinner on Friday night but, she should be well enough to return to work tomorrow, although she will forgo her Bible Study group in the evening.

This morning she took the service at Killinghall chapel and, perhaps three short talks (as it was a family service) took less toll on the congested vocal cords than the usual sermon. What she missed most was not being able to sing along with the hymns as she realized that would only start off a bout of coughing. I don’t mean to say her singing’s that bad, that the congregation would try to drown it out, but rather that laughing and singing are two activities destined to activate her own coughs and splutters.

The rest of the day has been spent in relative idleness as I’ve struggled to keep my eyes open, and my head in non-giddy mode. Just sitting beside, or opposite, my beloved makes me feel so content, as well as relieved that her recovery is well under way. It’s difficult to understand how I ever managed a life without her

What's Going On?

By early to mid-evening I’m feeling decidedly battered and shattered, an aching hollow void seems to have hit the very core of my being. Somewhere along the line my ‘pacing’ seems to have gone awry, it doesn’t seem to require any marked over exertion on my part; these days, I’m constantly amazed by how much I used to cram into my day.

Just thinking about former activity levels makes me feel rather giddy so, where do I place the blame for my current functional disarray? Of course my normal routine was somewhat disturbed by dining at a slightly later hour, as my beloved and I were invited over to Janet’s (Helens sister) house for Dinner, or should that read Supper (I’m not too good on these social niceties), last evening. Much as I enjoyed the meal, and the company, it was succeeded by a rather disrupted nights sleep, in spite of which I managed to retrieve myself from the duvets enticements at a reasonably early hour.

I even managed to venture down to Open Church for a little natter over a cup of Fair Trade coffee and, on my return home got down to a bit more work modifying one of my web sites. In fact, the creation of some new web pages, and modifying the meta-tags etc. seems to have been a major preoccupation during the past few days. I’ve also set up a little showcase for some of my paintings on Imagekind.com – you’re welcome to browse and see the options for different size prints, mounts and frames, though it’s not compulsory!

Actually, the process of tapping out these few lines has made me realize that I’ve not been totally idle these past few days and, I’ve now yielded to the temptation to fill the inner void with a nice bottle of Chilean oak-aged Chardonnay. So my beloved and I are about to settle down in front of a hot cathode ray tube for an episode of Rebus (ITV1).

Isolation

Positivity and negativity vie for dominance in my outlook; the positive frequently requires a conscious effort, whilst the negative surreptitiously manoeuvres itself into my soul whenever emotional and physical stamina is at low ebb. The approach of Christmas is having an emotionally bad effect, as I go through my address book and see the number of “friends” who’ve never been in touch at all since health problems removed me from the socializing circuit. Those who I used to regularly meet up with at gigs, concerts, art previews etc. have never bothered to make any contact, whilst others I knew on a more casual basis, even as a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear, still do make the occasional contact. Of course, not being able to go out to work narrows enormously the number of people one is likely to meet! My primary local contacts now tend to be those I meet at ‘Open Church’ and, I quite often feel that those friends I’ve met only in cyberspace are truer friends than many of those with whom I had more frequent “real life” contact. The internet is truly a lifesaver.

Real world friends can almost be counted on the fingers of one hand, apart from some who simply maintain the annual Christmas round robin type of contact. At the worst moments, I feel like I must have betrayed people by not being able to socialize, albeit by force of circumstance rather than choice but, at this time of year the sense of isolation bites much harder. Isolation is frequently more difficult to cope with than the, at times excruciating, pain and fatigue which initially forced one into the limbo of seclusion. Unfortunately, the effort required for any degree of socializing demands such a heavy payback, and only a fool could look forward to payback time!

Nothing Ventured ...

Having been thwarted on my excursion to ‘Open Church’ yesterday, owing to a marked lack of stamina, this morning I ventured there through the pouring rain. My first change of venue this week, energy reserves having been very low since Monday’s “scrape hard, hammer light” defrosting session! It’s strange really how little exertion is required to knock my progress off track.

Yesterday, I managed to make it as far as the local Post Office / Newsagent before my body cried enough; there’s no doubt that I could have made it down to St Marks but, I feared that I wouldn’t have had sufficient resilience to exercise my usual scintillating conversational skills. Today, despite getting well and truly rain bedraggled en route, I still managed to sustain an hour of conversation with sundry semi-kindred spirits.

Our thoughts have been with Beth, moving house on such a rain tormented day but, not sufficiently so to offer an (un)helping hand. The spirit may be half-willing but the flesh is well and truly weak!

From rude alert to joined-up dots

The new day dawned brusquely, disturbing my beauty sleep, at the shockingly early hour of 9.00AM. Way past the real dawn, I suspect, but that's the hour when a strident telephone bell broke through the bonds of Morpheus. Yes, you've guessed it, the 'phone call wasn't even for me. My beloved had departed for work some time earlier I guess, the cup of coffee left by the side of the bed was stone cold - that was the clue and, wouldn't you know the call was for ma belle. To make matters worse, I had a message to scribble down and, both pen and paper were elsewhere in the house. With half-open eyes, I stumbled my way to the location of the writing utensils and, almost forgot why I needed them in the process!

An hour or so later, after a little rest, I finally struggled down the stairs, popped the stony beverage into the microwave, switched on the PC to check my e-mails, consumed the re-heated beverage, then made my way down to Open Church for a chat with the poor unsuspecting souls. Quite surprisingly, my lower limbs were in good fettle and, I really enjoyed the stroll both there and back on a beautifully crisp sunshiny morning.

The afternoon was treatment time, although in some ways it felt like pampering, as I underwent another acupuncture session. As I relaxed, it felt as if I was reclaiming my body - joining up the dots. By the time the treatment was over, I felt both relaxed and sufficiently refreshed to prepare a tuna pasta as soon as Helen returned from work. As usual, the meal was excellent; seems like I'm (happily) stuck with this creative chore!

Taking Stock

Although I would never consider us a particularly prosperous household, economically speaking, it proved quite an eye-opener when Helen did a rapid checklist of items present in our abode. In a world in which a subsistence living is all that vast numbers of people experience, her church had encouraged its members to take stock of all the things we have to give thanks for (“Counting Your Blessings”).

A real surprise came when Helen found that we had 33 Bibles (various versions, translations and reference editions) and even then, I’m not sure whether my beloved had included the Greek New Testaments and the German and French editions. By way of an excuse, for this over-indulgence, I need to point out that my discipline at University was Theology and, Helen had done Biblical Studies, as a supplementary to her German studies; my beloved also uses various versions as she prepares her sermons. On top of that, Helen’s father was an Anglican cleric and I’m a son of the Manse so, I feel sure that some of these volumes were inherited!

Other vital items to be counted included the number of water taps in the house, the number of clocks (ours came to 6, excluding radio alarms), number of pets, number of TV sets, and even plants in the house. On the stock list there were also questions about whether you had eaten eggs, meat etc today, as well as questions about whether you had attended a local hospital for treatment and, how many items of mail were delivered in your most recent postal delivery. As you can see, the stock list was far ranging, not simply taking account of material possessions but, also those services which we take for granted. For each item listed there is a suggested donation we should make, via our collecting box, for a Craft Workshop in Tanzania, established by our friend Susie who is out there with her vet husband, Andy, and their young daughters.

Donations were also suggested for how many drinks one has had in the day, how many times the washing machine has been used in the past week etc. I found it a tremendous reminder of all the things we, in the developed world, so nonchalantly accept as part of our birthright.

Of course, the greatest blessings of all are love, friendship, and compassion; items which cannot be quantified nor, I suspect would we really be able to raise an appropriate donation (albeit only a token) to give thanks for such amazing grace.

I rejoice and give thanks in this day the Lord has made!

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Yesterday's blog posting "Familiarity is the Spice of Life" can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'. A brand new poem "Embrace" has been posted on 'Mal's Factory'.

'Back To Church Sunday' Backfires

Last Thursday evening, an unusual event occurred in the Evison household; the doorbell rang and, lo and behold, a vision from the past came to visit. A friend, from the church that I used to attend, called with an invitation for us to attend that church this evening as part of the Back to Church Sunday initiative.

It is almost three years since I was forced, for health reasons (frequently having to lie down during my morning’s work, recurrent flu-like symptoms and, regularly collapsing immediately on return home), to leave my employment as Caretaker/ Steward at that church. Much as they had been very satisfied with my labour; after my total collapse, I was reminded (on more than one occasion) by members of the clergy team that I had let them down! Was I supposed to fall down on my knees and cry, “Lord I repent of my inadequacy in letting you smite me down with ill-health; forgive me Father!”, or some such fanfared display of penitence?

The job that I did for 16 hours per week, plus many unpaid hours, became 32 hours per week regular employment for my immediate successor (who lasted just a few weeks) and, it now provides full-time employment for the present incumbent ( along with assistance from his partner on Mondays when “there’s just so much work to do”)!

For a couple of months, after my health enforced spontaneous resignation, I managed to struggle along to morning worship, invariably having to leave less than halfway through the service due to lack of stamina. Within a year of leaving my employment there, as well as the various functions I had fulfilled in a voluntary capacity (housegroup leader etc.), we had the misfortune of employing a warden from the church, together with his colleague, to do some decorating work for us. The work was tackled in, what we felt to be a very sluggish yet slipshod fashion, by these two retired gentlemen, and their presence in the house became too difficult for me to cope with. They billed us at an extortionate skilled professional rate, which I settled at half the asking price (we were still being robbed - but I yielded to my more benevolent nature). Around this time, alongside a growing realization of the cosily middle-class nature of this particular institution, my wife decided to move back to the Methodist church, as she had been feeling lost and alone in this ‘thriving’ church, once I was no longer able to attend. The Vicar called round to aggressively defend his Warden (against our wounding remarks) and … the rest is history.

Neither of us had darkened/enlightened their doorway since that time until I started going down to Open Church for coffee in recent months. In this whole period no-one from the church bothered to call around, or even make enquiries as to how I was doing, other than through a chance encounter with my wife near the local shops; so you can see why Thursday evening’s visit was such an unusual event!

Back to Church Sunday proved a terrifyingly daunting prospect, after all, I’m the person who on more than one occasion resumed smoking on National No Smoking Day; the very name of the day militated against any positive move on my part. Is attention going to be focussed on the Prodigal’s return? That’s the last thing that I’d want, a sure signal to lift up my backside and walk. I didn’t for one moment expect to receive the prodigal outpouring of love shown by the father in the tale but, I dreaded the focus being on us miserable returnees.

These misgivings apart, one of the greatest problems I have, at present, is with pre-planning. When I feel that I have sufficient emotional stamina, to attend a full church service, my first visit will have to be on impulse; for the present that little step is a step too far.

On reflection, it strikes me as an odd kind of pastoral care when, the only time one receives a visit is when a national returning bums on seat initiative is taking place!

I still have a lot of time for the Church as the body of Christ, a servant community; it is composed of people who, just like me, are all too human and frequently negligent of the service to which their Lord calls them.

We Are Such Stuff .. as irreconcilable differences are made of

Cuba, Iraq, the Middle East, Eastern Europe, the ‘Big Bang’, evolution, faith and, intra-religious squabbles. What could all these items have in common?

Each of these topics was touched on in my chats over coffee, at ‘Open Church’ this morning, alongside the usual formal niceties and small talk. Oh, how easy it is to find a simple solution to most of the world’s problems but, how lacking is any kind of political will to practise them!

On the one side we have self-centred, greed fuelled ideologies, which provide freedom for those who have the wherewithal and, a graduated scale of misery for numerous others; on the other hand we have those ideological positions upheld only by a degree of repression, partially the result of having to resist external malevolent forces, and yet, against the odds, manage to produce a better quality of universal health-care and education than that proffered by some more affluent neighbouring ‘free’ societies. To be honest, if you’re at the bottom of the heap, it doesn’t help to ‘know’ that one is free, if all that freedom entails is the right to be trampled on, and snubbed, by an uncaring greed-motivated minority (and their many sheep-like minions – the men who like to “rattle their chains to show that they are free”).

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Yet again, a rambling posting spews forth from what was supposed to be a simple comment on my morning. The intended report would simply have said: “Once again, I managed to kill two birds with one stone. A visit to ‘Open Church’ entailed exercise (in terms of the walk to and from) and socializing (conversation over a cup of coffee). The walk back, after having been sat for fifty plus minutes, seemed to pace itself at about 60% of the speed assumed on my outward journey. Apart from my usual drowsiness after such exercise and, the return (since yesterday evening) of a discomforting numb tingle, from little finger to wrist on my left hand, my general decrepitude casts few shadows on my enjoyment of the day.”

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A further posting today, 'A human voodoo doll once more', can be found on Hirsute Antiquity (Malcolm's blog on My Space). On Mal's Murmurings a new posting 'The Avian Feline Connection' can be found.

An Exceptional Day

Yesterday was quite an exceptional day for me, in terms of utilization of my somewhat maudlin reserves of physical and emotional stamina; I even managed to flex my concentration muscle a little in the earlier part of the day.

Firstly, I managed to spend a full twenty minutes reading a book, before releasing myself from the duvet cocoon and, although I slightly overstayed my allocated period of bed rest, I still managed to shake the haze out of my brain, and the fog from my field of vision, by the time I’d grabbed a bowl of cereal. To actually have shoes on my feet (shortly) before 11.00AM made quite a change too.

Next I chivvied myself to take a brief stroll to ‘Open Church’ to share coffee, biscuits, and a natter with some of the regulars and, renew acquaintance with others. After a short time there, I veered into one of my legendary hot-flushes, thankfully in a reasonably moderate key, but Isabel (an octogenarian veteran of these coffee supping occasions) was quick to say, “hot flushes Malcolm … is there a big secret you’ve been keeping from us?” As if to, perversely, emphasize my masculine pride, I told her that my hot flushes could outshine the best my beloved ever came up with!

Forty-five to fifty minutes later, I hit the road again, for a leisurely stroll back home. After a little rest, I entered the cyberspace surfing realm, checking e-mails, friends postings on ‘MySpace’ and, a cursory skim through the lead items in various online newspapers. A time of drift followed, to the accompanying strains of (BBC )Radio 4 & Radio 3 until my beloved returned from work. Having prepared a little transcontinental pasta, eagerly devoured by the two of us, more exercise was to follow as we wandered off, hand in hand, into the sunset for a 35 minute reasonably brisk walk.

Neither the degree of exercise, nor the socializing, was even on my agenda in the early part of the year. It truly was an exceptional day!

Today has remained lower key; my furthest venturing has been from bedroom to living room, living room to kitchen and, the odd ambling move to the garden pond. My earliest visit to the pond, this morning, resulted in the gentle eruption of a new poem; the poem ‘Morning Song’ can be read on Mal’s Factory or at Hirsute Antiquity.