ANOTHER ROLLER COASTER of a day. Time to hang up the collar, albeit that it’s “only” 9.30pm, and climb the wooden hills. But not without a “thanks be to God” for the privileges of the day, for the gift of being able to be “here” – to pray, to hope, to celebrate, to seek healing, to share music and books and poetry, to study, to empathise, to learn, to sympathise, to grieve, to administer “last rites”, to email, to send the hand-written note, to be in the queue and to feel for the people who must bear traffic jams every day (aaaagggghh!), to be angry, to be moved to tears, to phone and to be phoned, to try to make sense, to look forward to holidays, to speak, to write, to listen, to fail, to want to unplug aforementioned phone, to grow, to fill out the forms, to encourage, to be shocked by the death of a young husband and father in his thirties, to be stunned by the loving self-sacrifice of a young foster-parent and the joy of her fostered child, to cajole, to be silent, to hear of a cancer, to speak of marriage, to mourn Randy’s passing (remembering banana fritters and the gentlest hospitality), to hug, to arrange Baptism, to bless, to reach, to love – and be loved and sustained by – God’s beloved people in this place. All in a day. Yes: thanks be to God. And now time for bed, said Zebedee …