I can hear the bells
Since starting as Operations Manager with Emmanuel Church in July, I’ve been discovering what it means to work somewhere where God is right at the centre of everything. I do like to begin the day with a plan. Ideally, a neat one. Possibly colour-coded. A tidy to-do list, a sensible order of events, and the quiet confidence that I know roughly what is going to happen next. And then God, with perfect timing and a wonderful sense of humour, very often says, “That’s lovely, Jane, but let’s try this instead.”
Emmanuel PCC is funding seven hours of my time to support St Mary’s, Laira, which is currently dealing with some serious structural and roof repairs — the sort of thing that makes you look upwards in church for both spiritual and practical reasons. Last week I arranged the very first meeting of the Friends of St Mary’s, and I was feeling quietly pleased with myself. Slides prepared? Yes. Agenda ready? Yes. Attendees invited? Yes. Refreshments sorted? Of course. I was practically glowing with administrative virtue. Then, the night before the meeting, I had a phone call asking whether the bell ringers could come at exactly the same time as the meeting. My first thought was, “Well, that will certainly add to the atmosphere.” My second thought was, “Oh it might be noisy” But in the spirit of adventure I said yes.
At the start of the meeting, things began to unravel with impressive speed. The slides absolutely refused to appear on the projector screen, the bells were ringing with heroic enthusiasm, and hearing one another became less of a meeting technique and more of an extreme sport. It had all the ingredients of organised chaos — although, if I’m honest, the organised part was becoming increasingly theoretical. At that point, the only sensible options were to laugh, breathe, and pretend this had been the plan all along. And then, wonderfully, two teenage girls joined us and shared what life is like for young people in Laira. They told us where they spend time, what they enjoy, and what they would love to see locally. It was honest, helpful, and genuinely encouraging — the sort of contribution no slide deck could have improved on.
So we carried on — bells, missing slides, raised voices, good humour and all — and somehow ended up having exactly the conversations we needed to have. Then, right at the end, a face appeared at the door. He had heard the bells and wondered whether he could help. It turned out he was a structural engineer who lived on the same street as the church, and he said he would be happy to offer some of his time. Honestly, you could not make it up. My carefully planned meeting had been cheerfully hijacked by bell ringing, technical failure, teenage honesty, and one very timely structural engineer. It was not quite the agenda I had printed — but it may well have been exactly the agenda God had prepared.
