The Vicar's Wife

It’s later than it should be to start writing a #lentowrimo post. And my brain has been fried by yesterday’s early morning sick dog drama – the Vicarage Hound was indeed as sick as a dog. Let’s just say that it is a great pity that we hired the Rug Doctor a week ago. Although the wool moths that ate our lovely rug would have been feasting for longer, so perhaps it was for the best.

The Vicarage Hound bids a fond farewell to the living room rug

After the dog drama, I was able to spend an afternoon visiting friends at the Proc Trust conference for ministers’ wives. I’m busy with other things that take me away from home at the moment, so I’d not signed up for the full four days, but was able to sneak into the tea lounge for a while. I failed to note this year’s fashion trends I’m afraid but it was great to catch up with some dear sisters for a few hours. I heard tales of amazing provision of housing for church planters and encouragements of people coming to faith through church members choosing to move to tough parts of town, and I had a snatched and joyous chat with a vicar’s wife whose husband will soon be the training incumbent for one of our old ministry trainees. So this summer that will be four young men ordained out of our attic, and we heard the other week that another lad who lived up-upstairs is on the pathway to ordination too.

So although I have nothing much to say, I seem to have said a little bit. And maybe you also have tales of sick dogs or encouragements from friends to share too. The stories of life that make up the pattern of daily discipleship. Drama and laughter.  Sick and sisters. Moths and ministry.