So goes the school hymn, and goes through a range of situations asking 'were you there?' 'And the creed and the colour and the name don't matter were you there?' comes the chorus.
This comes to mind with an email today from someone about a church member they have visited today, reporting that this person, unable to get out of the house, is disappointed that I haven't been round.
It is not an unreasonable request, after some time in convalescence care beyond our patch she has been home for a couple of weeks now. And it would be just half an hour, to show she is remembered. 'Were you there?'
These are the moments when I feel such a failure as a minister, and as I type my eyes are leaking. But she and the others I constantly let down don't see that, they don't know about the moments when I am about to phone but realise it is too late, or any other good intentions.
Yes it is true that pastoral visiting is not just for me, and I know of those who are calling on people. And I know that my list of reasons why I didn't get there all this week despite planning to - including depressive fatigued duvet days - are valid and not just the lame excuses I think they sound to others.
But ... I am not naturally a pastoral visiting person, and I know this is my weakest point. It is the thing I would have top of my 'drop list' when time and energy are squeezed. And because of that it is also where my conscience is most vulnerable to criticism, because it lands on my own self criticisms so it is a double whammy right where I have least objectivity and perspective.
I will visit, and she will get over her disappointment that it has taken so long, and the sun will rise and set and the days go on. And when I am not tired from having been out all day for last 3 days I will not get weepy over a 'just so you know' email.
For now, it is a stiff drink and bed. Tomorrow is another day.
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