Amongst the many images of priesthood garnered from 'worthy' books on the subject (...priest as companion, pain-bearer, witness, risk-taker, pray-er, reconciler...makes you exhausted before you even begin) the only really helpful one which remains for me is Justin Lewis-Anthony's priest as 'Weaver' (from the memorably entitled If you meet George Herbert on the road, kill him.) Amid the often disparate and sometimes peculiar things that a priest is asked to respond to in any one week, the picture of the weaver has helped me to try and tie some of them together. Apparent randomness and unfruitfulness (pointless paperwork; house over noisy with 3 simultaneous music practices; no sermon because I had a virus all week) it can feel as though things are falling apart at the seams (to continue the sewing analogy.)
So here's some weaving: this week my own incapacity made me reflect on what it's like for those who daily experience real suffering...meanwhile the hot October sun shed its heat on good and bad experiences alike... and in the garden, the overwhelming fruitfulness of the apple harvest continues to have nothing whatever to do with my usefulness as a human being. It's just sheer blessing.