“Nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain.”
I was out walking, letterboxing flyers for the upcoming state election, as I had been doing for three weeks. It started to rain, so I ducked into the Anglican Church, which I had to myself (and God, of course.) We have attended church often there, although I’m not Anglican. My favourite service there was their Jazz one, with a live band. You should have heard “Oh when the saints go marching in” lifting the roof off that small space.

At a very difficult time in our family, a large, genial guitar playing Minister with a sensible attitude, was of great help to me. I’m a Catholic, but we had no parish priest at that time, our presbytery was empty most of the week. There is a shortage of priests born in Australia.








Member name badges. Morning teas are served after services. Cards for sale. A Christening font. Beautiful woods. Symbol of the Holy Trinity. Ladies do the flower arranging. A lectern.
All photos are Copyright Runningonempty.
Nearly every item of antique furniture has a donation plaque on it. I know from owning Australian antiques in the past, that many of the native hardwoods are now endangered, or the forests gone altogether now. That makes these items very special, a collection that should be kept together and valued, for a number of reasons, their aesthetic, vanishing craftsmanship, spiritual, ancestral, historical significance, remnant DNA, solid reliability in a changing world, the stories they could tell.
And yet, the churches are breaking up their collections of artefacts, donated by the community in good faith. They are selling the buildings, too. Communities protest to no avail. They were Christened, Confirmed, married there. They thought they would be taken out of there in their casket. No, the money is needed, says the church, to pay compensation to victims of historical sex abuse.
I hope that doesn’t happen to this church, or mine, or any others in our district. We church goers need to continue to attend, and financially support, our spiritual homes, lest they be taken from us. We need to get sustainable attendances up, by getting into the twentieth century, much less the twenty first, with our hymns. Enough with the dirges. Young people don’t want to sing those.
Well, when I had said some prayers, and the rain stopped, I set out again, letterboxing, but had not proceeded too far before it started to hail! I was glad I had brought a good umbrella, that withstood it. My lower half did get saturated. On the way back I called into a local florist, to be stunned by the sweetest nicest smells I think I have ever experienced. Spring garden roses:



“And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain, oh yeah
I know that you can love me
When there’s no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
‘Cause nothin’ lasts forever
Even cold November rain
Don’t ya think that you need somebody
Don’t ya think that you need someone
Everybody needs somebody
You’re not the only one
You’re not the only one.”
Excerpt from Guns and roses- November Rain.
Lyrics to November Rain:
It sounds like a fun service. I hope they don’t break up their collection. Makes sense to me to have it as heritage for the future. (The new format looks great, Cath.)
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I hope so too, marmelade. I tried 5 formats, this wasthe only one that didn’t keep going to white screen. I’d like a bit more colour after I update my iPad! Was hoping for one for Christmas, but we got her camp fees, yikes!
Thanks for commenting!
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A small, special place. May it and others like it survive. We need our spiritual oases.
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That’s true, Rina! Reminded me of a story that might be good for another blog post, sometime next year maybe.
Cath
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