rearranging the flowers

29 07 2017

Of all the possibilities, clearing away the dead flowers wasn’t one I’d thought of. I started furtively, feeling guilty, choosing which floral tributes still had enough life to be considered tributes, and which had withered and shrivelled into a parody of their original purpose. What if someone saw. What if they were offended. After all, this was one of the main Grenfell Tower fire floral tribute areas, adjacent to the Latymer Community Church. Emotions are very heightened. Not least my own. The last thing I wanted was to be accused of desecrating a shrine.

The kingdom of god is a complicated place. Someone still has to throw the rubbish away. Being available for a dramatic and extensive community response and outpouring of grief – as this small and remarkable church near Grenfell Tower had been – is a messy business. Disaster relief coordinated by post-it note and WhatsApp, the pastor said. I was privileged to be there just for one afternoon, insignificant in the grand scheme, able to respond to a request for help to help the volunteers, whether that was making tea for distressed residents, emptying the bins, or as it turned out, rearranging the flowers.

Strangely for me, not someone who often uses this language, it felt a priestly thing to do. Not vestments and communion type of Priestly. But priesthood of believers, standing in the gap between the grief of the people and the grief of god, soaking up the pain, rearranging the mess of peoples broken hearts, sorting and sweeping and refreshing and watering, all the while unnoticed, better unnoticed, for the best incarnational priestly things are hardly seen.

I left that afternoon with a deep sense of horror at what had happened that awful night; the blackened and burned tower can leave you with nothing else except its scarred imprint on your eyelids and its stamping feet all over your heart. Yet I also left with a renewed sense of hope and wonder and pride in humanity; the same humanity that can cause such a crisis can also be so wonderfully, indiscriminately generous, so desperate to fill the cracks in the lives of strangers with flowers and sleeping bags and nappies and anything which will bring a moment of happiness or even, perhaps, be useful.

It’s never been such a privilege to rearrange the flowers. Serving is never and never should be about the glamorous; that’s why it’s called serving. In serving we might only rarely see the results of our labours, instead we do what we do, regardless of what follows us. Like burying treasure in a field for someone else to find.

Let’s go bury some treasure.


With thanks to staff and volunteers of Latymer Community Church and Eden Ladbrooke Grove for doing what they do, day in and day out, and for being the buried treasure that others have stumbled across when they most needed it.








%d bloggers like this: