Singing New Songs

My Grandma died on 30th April 2021. That is the bald, undecorated fact in one sentence. She was very frail and elderly, and couldn’t keep fighting illness and dementia forever. What those sentences can’t express, however, is how much those of us she has left behind will miss her or what we have lost in losing her.  I can’t speak for my whole family and all of Grandma’s friends – we all have our own memories. But I can speak about who she was to me and begin to pick out just some of the things about her that made such an impact on me. A pioneer Grandma was born in 1926, in a farmhouse without running water or electricity in the North West of England. This wasn’t that unusual at the time but it was much more unusual that she went to university in the mid-1940s to train as a doctor. Her mum had broken a few glass ceilings herself by going to agricultural college, but to train as a doctor was on another level again. Grandma didn’t finish her medical studies for various reasons bu

I did some curacy training recently at which we were asked to ponder some big questions. One of those big questions was, "Do you feel good enough?" This is an issue I have long pondered over many years. I kind of know what the answer should be but God seems to take me on a different journey each time I ask myself the question.  This time, the journey took me along all kinds of paths, meandering around personal and ministry stuff, all bathed in the shadow of the news and the coverage of how women are treated and what, if anything, we can do about it.  And, as I meandered alongside this big question, a phrase met me:  "Stop trying to be a good girl and be God's girl."  This sounds obvious but to someone like me who has always tried to be "good", it's actually something of a revelation.  There is a difference.  So I wrote another poem to try and articulate this.....  Good Enough Be a good girl. Don’t make a fuss.   Be a good girl. Stay smal

I was ordained as a priest on Saturday 26th September 2020. A delayed, scaled-down affair compared to the pomp and circumstance of my deaconing last June but an extraordinarily intimate, gentle and personal experience instead. And an experience where, once again, the Spirit came and made his presence felt among us and in us and all kinds of feelings were felt.  I feel, somehow, that this moment marks the completion of something. It also marks the start of lots of other things but there is a completeness about stepping in to this next chapter. When I finally admitted I felt God's call to ordination, I knew I felt called to the priesthood, rather than the diaconate, so this was the culmination of all the seeking, praying, talking and working over more than 5 years. This sense of completion became more and more acute during last week's pre-ordination retreat. I'll explain.....  Over 4 years ago, a wise man (who also happened to be my Diocesan Director of Ordinands, faced with

I was ordained at Coventry Cathedral on the evening of the 30 th June. It was an extraordinary moment – Spirit-filled, love-laced, and awe-inspiring. I stood behind the communion table looking down the Cathedral, ready to undertake my first task as a deacon, and held the hand of one of the other new deacons next to me as we sang And Can it Be and took in the enormity of what was happening to and around us. That sense of privilege and awe at the enormity of the role before me has not diminished, nearly two months on. I have been on holiday for a week or so and I’m just starting to work through some of my first reflections on this new life…. 1. Lots of my ordained friends told me that I would feel “different” after ordination but I didn’t believe them. I should have done. It’s not like I have become a different person or have suddenly sprouted a new, more holy outlook. I am still me – with all the flaws and potential for gaffes that I always had. But at the moment of

Sunrise over the Sea of Galilee There are some songs that follow you as you wend your way through different parts of life. Songs that are significant at key moments and keep popping up, as if they are there as a reminder to take notice of what you are experiencing.  There is one song that I first met years ago and which I have gone on to sing hundreds of times in different versions  and which has often marked an important moment in life. No matter  how many times I sing it, never loses its signficance.  This song is  Time to Say Goodbye , by  Francesco Sartori and Lucio Quarantotto. I first heard it in 1997 when I was staying with a close friend who was living in Germany at the time. It was a huge hit there, sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman, and was played everywhere. I remember heading back to my home in France and making a beeline for the shops (because we didn't do streaming or downloads or, frankly, even internet then!) and buying the single, playing it over

Last week, M and I got back from a week’s pilgrimage in the Holy Land, starting in Be’er Sheva, moving through Bethlehem, Jerusalem, the wilderness and, via a dip in the Dead Sea, on to Galilee, Nazareth and Capernaum. It was wonderful, challenging, exhausting, exhilarating, hope-filled, sobering, humbling, uplifting, energetic and gentle.   It will take me a very long time to process all that I saw, heard and experienced along with our fellow pilgrims – nearly all of them ordinands from my college. However, with 10 days or so having passed since we got back, I’m starting to feel like I can put some shape to my overall impressions of what God was doing in me over there.   It all feels important and like I will never be quite the same as a result of this journey so this blog seemed like a good place to share a few of those first thoughts*….. On our second full day, two moments of clarity hit me in the crowded, busy, ornate Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, built ove

I went to see my Grandma yesterday. She enjoys spending time in her "happy places" - those bits of her memory where she feels secure and able to talk freely - so a lot of our conversation covers her childhood and her family and friends as she was growing up. However, there was a moment yesterday where she seemed to have a moment of complete clarity. She looked at me and said, "Just imagine. Your Grandpa and I started as just two people. And look at what grew from there!" Three daughters, three sons-in-law; six grandchildren and now six grandchildren-in-law; and, at the last count, eight great-grandchildren. Even taking into account the fact that my Grandpa is no longer around, that is a family of 27 grown from one wonderful, loving marriage. That is their legacy of love and experience. And it's not just about family. I have been feeling that way about long-lasting friendships recently. I have been trying to catch up with old friends here and there over t