Just finished stacking the dishwasher with the mugs from Meet The Neighbours this morning at the Arc Apartments – a perfect picture of a really great day!  Each mug represents one more neighbour introduced to new friends, new contacts; one more new resident in the Titanic Quarter starting to feel part of a community.  Yet again it was just such fun meeting a fantastic bunch of people – the apartments are filling up fast, and are becoming home to a brilliant, cheerful, friendly mix of people.  They are also wonderfully diverse – we met people from just over the road, and from the other side of the world.

Talking of the other side of the world (-ish), one of our ‘international contacts’ from the world of Dock is paying a visit to the Dock Walk tomorrow.  You might remember Bishop Moses from Sudan, who joined us last Summer and kick-started a fantastic conversation about some of the ways that Sudan and Northern Ireland can learn from each other.  Moses is back with us tomorrow afternoon, as is a group of American visitors based at Woodvale Methodist – along with the usual mix of welcoming faces gathering at the Odyssey Streat at 3:33pm.  See you there!

Chris

This week I’m at the Dromantine retreat centre, a beautiful old mansion house near Newry, for the final residential session of the Arrow Leadership Course.

Long-term readers might remember that I started this course right back at Week One of The Dock’s existence, so it’s been amazing (and quite emotional) to reflect back on all the changes, surprises and blessings over that time.  So much to be thankful for.

Today, after breakfast, we’re having a quiet day; we’re being encouraged to ‘unplug’ (so the phone and laptop are being switched off as soon as I post this!) and spend the day fighting down the urge to be busy and productive – instead just to be still, reflective and give God space to speak.

Something new (and quite challenging) for me – but I guess that’s been the character of the story so far!

Chris

A big invite to everyone to the next big Dock event…  next Saturday is the first Saturday of the month, which means it’s time for Saturday brunch at the deckchair cafe at the base of the Arc apartments from 11-1, with a chance to meet the neighbours, read the Saturday papers, drink fresh coffee and sample (for free! aren’t we nice) some delicious fresh local home baking.  See ya there!

Hope you all enjoyed the big day today – of course some of us had to work as usual (Walking Tours were still happening while you lot slouched in front of the TV – grumble, grumble…)

In honour of Kate and Wills (I’m sure they’ll be thrilled!), I’m posting a few vaguely Royal Wedding-related musings that formed my Thought For The Day on Radio Ulster this week.  Enjoy!

Where were you on 29th July 1981?  As the next Big Royal Wedding approaches, we’re all talking about what we were doing at the time of the last one.  I remember it perfectly: I was six, it was a lovely hot day, and we got to have wheelie bin races down our street.  That’s my one memory: not the royal wedding, not the dress or the vows or the crowds, not the history-making that was unfolding on the TV screen. My only memory is that for our street party, everyone brought out their shiny brand-new black plastic wheelie bins, which had just been delivered to our street, and we spent the day playing wheelie-bin dodgems, wheelie-bin races, how-many-people-can-you-fit-inside-a-wheelie-bin, and any number of other health-and-safety-defying, wheelie-bin related amusements.  We had a great day – but it’s just possible that my six-year-old self was not fully switched on to the importance of the day.  And now my thirty-six year old self can only remember that one silly detail about that historic date.

Memory is a funny thing sometimes.  Why can I remember the bin races, and all sorts of daft details from my childhood – theme tunes of Dangermouse, the title of every Doctor Who story – but forget the name of the person who just introduced themselves to me thirty seconds ago?  Why can I remember every word of Kylie Minogue’s ‘I should be so lucky’, but forget every word of my First Aid training?  My earliest memory – of sitting watching clothes spin in the washing machine – why did it stick, when every other event of the first 3 years of my life is forgotten?

Sometimes we’re stuck with the random things our minds and memories latch onto.  But sometimes something is so important, so personal, so true, that we choose to remember it.  We write notes, or diaries, or leave post-its on the fridge, or – most importantly – keep telling the story.  Have you noticed that the incidents you remember most clearly are the things you have told other people about? When you dine out on a story, telling it to one friend after another, the details and the memory stick.  We even tend to start stories like that by saying “I’ll never forget it-”

We’ve just passed through the season of Easter, and that’s exactly what we’ve been doing – retelling the story so that we remember it, because it’s important.  Every year we recount the details – Judas’ kiss, the moment of choice in the garden of Gethsemane, the horrors of the trial and crucifixion, the blossoming, breathless hope of Easter morning.  We tell it and re-tell it because when all else fades, when all else passes, this is what I choose to remember: that Jesus lived, and died, and rose again.  Something too good to be forgotten.

No matter whether I’m stamping around the place as Titanic Quarter Chaplain, Dock Walk leader, or Titanic Walking Tour guide, it seems that everything I do these days involves walking.  Which has two direct results:  1 – my legs are all trim and toned; and 2 – I’m starting to really, truly believe that walking is the best thing.

I’m not the only one who thinks so – I was reading an article in one of Susan’s ‘wimmin magazines’ recently (all blokes read them, let’s be honest) which was advocating walking as the healthiest, happiest way to spend your leisure time.  It’s good for you (much better than jogging – think of your knees!), clears the mind, helps you slow down, benefits your health, promotes mindfulness and a healthy perspective on the day.  So it’s good common-sense – and I think it’s good God-sense too.

When I think of some of the highlights of this past month, they all involve tramping along in some way.  My first-ever Titanic Walking Tour was something a bit special – a lovely group that bonded and chatted really naturally as we walked along through the TQ (walking is a natural way to meet and chat with people without feeling pressured or awkward).  My last-minute reading of Thomas Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain, the night before the last Dock Book Group, was achieved by listening to the audiobook version on headphones while walking around the still, dark streets near my house  (walking is a great way to get some time on your own).

I can think of moments during Titanic Walking Tours when the delight on peoples’ faces was plain to see, as we uncover, far from the beaten track, a track or trace or foundation left from Titanic’s day (walking is a great way to properly explore an area and appreciate your surroundings).  And our weekly Dock Walks have become, for me and Susan, a true and very profound expression of church – commissioning Karen while looking out over the TQ, or listening to the Emmeus Road story while trekking a long stretch of straight road beneath the cranes, or celebrating Easter Day in the open air… (walking is a great way to worship a great God in the great outdoors).

In some ways I’m so grateful that The Dock didn’t have a building to begin with. ‘Walking church’ evolved gradually over the last year out of necessity, but has become something very precious in the process.  Many people feel closest to God out in the open air, in the midst of creation – but when churches meet to worship, our gatherings almost always happen indoors, behind stone walls, with the beauty of the world shown only as pictures on a screen.  It’s great to be back outside! – it worked for the disciples, for the early church, for the first Christian pilgrims and many of the saints – time we rediscovered it.