Image by Pexels from Pixabay At church this morning I was leading the kids group for the five- to seven-year olds. We are studying parables at the moment - the short and punchy stories that Jesus told. Today's was about the persistent widow, who kept on going to the judge's house to demand justice. As I read it, echoes of The Very Hungry Caterpillar came into my head: "...and he was STILL hungry!" as well as images from We're Going on a Bear Hunt: "Mud! Thick, oozy mud!" So here is the version of The Persistent Widow that Jesus would, I am sure, have told, if his audience had been a group of infant school kids. They seemed to enjoy it. I hope you do too. If you have a small child to help with the knocks and the "No!"s, so much the better. The Very Persistent Widow Lydia was a widow. That means her husband had died. She didn’t have any children, so she lived all by herself. Now someone had done something wrong to Lydia. Maybe someone had
I drove across the Staffordshire Moorlands on the A52, the morning open around me. The Sunday Service was on the radio, and my heart sang along with the BBC Singers, who were celebrating their 100th anniversary. The road plunged downhill to Froghall and I cut off the service in the middle of the Lord's Prayer (oops. sorry, Lord) as I arrived at Froghall Wharf car park. old lime kilns at Froghall Wharf It was a cold and breezeless morning. I set off along the Caldon Canal towpath, crossing a lock and passing a tunnel which looked like an awfully tight squeeze for any boat. A metal fence, expanses of cracked concrete, and some crumbling brick buildings were all that remained of what must have been a large factory alongside the canal. A metal pipe drooped forlornly, its broken end gaping. A cheery mouse brightened up one old building. I reached the final corner of the fence, and the industrial landscape dropped away behind me. The canal narrowed to a thin ribbon of water. It seemed ha