I probably won’t get to do mortuary duty after all. The “acceptable” bodies have all been viewed – the rest are in a bad way, and families are being advised not to visit. However, I will be going to the family rest centre on Friday. Friends who have been to the mortuary talk about the importance of just being there for people.
I’m not sure of what I might say – I only know that through my own crises, small though they may be in comparison to the suffering after the bombs, I have become convinced of the existence, the love and grace of God. Most days I still believe it, but I forget to live it out at times.
Reading some of my favourite blogs leaves me feeling I don’t live in the real world in my appointment. Battles over normal or different Sunday meetings, potential fighting over musicians’ lounge and prayer room in our renovated building, while in the local primary school another child is taken into care because his mum can’t live without her convicted paedophile boyfriend. What kind of church do we want?