A steward at the table
I was being wooed and propositioned in an unrelenting recruitment drive to become a church steward for over a year.
It was last weekend that I had a baptism of fire as it were. It was a weekend
of ordinations of priests and deacons known as the Petertide in the Anglican
Church calendar.
With a church brimming with high
clergy, the ordinands, well-wishers, and visitors, I was to collect the
offertory from a section of the seating in the church and then direct congregants
to a communion station away from the altar. It was managed even if a bit
chaotic.
Though these assignments were out of
rota, I had volunteered as more hands were needed than what was required for
regular church services. Today, I presented myself to steward the service of
Thanksgiving for 75 Years
of the NHS.
The programme pamphlet for the service celebrating 75 Years of the NHS.
Attending to attendees
As there was no offertory or
communion, this was a civic service, and it became apparent that we needed fewer stewards. There were a few things to do, including putting inserts in the programme
pamphlet that required attendees to write a reflection about the role of the
NHS.
After that, I stood with fellow
stewards at the door to hand out the pamphlet to arrivals for the service
informing them of the insert for their reflections. It was not a crowded gathering,
and it did seem we had a fair share of NHS chaplains attending, we all might
have felt out of place and of sorts without a dog collar.
The service began
Just before the start of the service, Andy Burnham, the Mayor
of Greater Manchester arrived, I handed him the programme and informed him of
the insert, he was smiling, engaging, and appreciative before the Canon Pastor
led him to his seat and the service began.
There was one other act to steward,
the collection of the inserts after people had scribbled down their
reflections, I stood at the end of one row waiting as one congregant wrote on
both sides of the card, as if a whole thesis of thoughts needed an urgent
revealing.
My reflections
I had written my own reflection early
because of the duty I was assigned to the effect: “I was born on a Tuesday
morning unexpectedly at 26.5 weeks, the NHS facilitated my transfer for incubation
in a major city. I was the size of a hamster in the hand of my father.
At 57, I stand taller, much taller
than my parents. I owe my existence then and daily now to the amazing NHS, the
people whose humanity makes a difference to many lives.”
Andy Burnham who was the last Labour
government Secretary of Health gave an address before representatives of faiths
rose to give a talk, there was a homily, a hymn and then the sending out by the
Canon Pastor.
As the event was quite passive, I began
to wilt, when I got home, I was ready for bed and there ensued a long afternoon
nap.
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