Congratulations Paul and Katie

I'll never forget the 15th March 1979. Barbs and I set off at 5am in snowy conditions to travel to Croyden. In the back of the car we had an empty baby carry cot. At Birdhurst Lodge we were introduced to a little baby boy who looked up at us with dark eyes that knew far more any 5 week old baby ever should. We loved him instantly. He was ours. Adoption is an amazing process. In no time we were travelling back up north with a full carry cot.

Thirty years have slipped by. The dark eyed wise child is 30 years old and 6 feet five inches tall. I still have his little red velvet boots and remember how his little fat foot felt in them. His feet are now size fourteen and a half . The promise of wisdom in his 5 week old eyes have been fulfilled in his 30 year old life. In 1981 our joy doubled as Sarah arrived in our lives. What a blessing these two are to us.

Last weekend our son got engaged to Katie. He saved the big question for the evocative surroundings of Central Park, New York. The saga of the ring has too many complicated twists and turns for this little blog. Sarah was neck deep in the conspiracy and there were times pressures that took it right to the wire. However the ring arrived and Katie said "yes" and there is photographic proof of of sparkling diamonds in the 3rd finger.

I am not naive or sentimental. I know I can be an infuriating Dad and Paul can be a gloriously impossible son sometimes. It is part of the job description! but I wouldn't change a detail of our personal history. I am grateful to God for the gift of these extraordinary children.

Entrenching a tradition.

I attended a course along with other clergy in beautiful Wydale Hall. The surrounding countryside beckoned me to an early morning walk. The grass was heavy with dew so I tucked my rapidly soaking trousers into my socks. I got back to the hall just in time for morning prayer in the chapel. I forgot about my tucked in trouser bottoms. Immediately after the prayers a fellow course member came to me and asked in all seriousness, "Is it part of your tradition to always pray with you trousers tucked into your socks?" I laughed but he didn't. I dispelled the idea that I was practising a trouser tucking liturgical tradition and explained about my walk!

It got me wondering if this could be how some traditions are born. Someone does something oddly inexplicable and someone observing thinks, "that must be the thing to do" and joins in. Before long a bunch of people are doing it and no one knows why. A new tradition is brought to birth!

So "Why?" is a question we need to apply to all our actions. If we don't we may find ourselves doing the things we have always done just because we've always done them; thinking the things we've always thought just because we've always thought them and saying the things we've always said just because we've always said them. So we settle for a sealed system of orthodoxy instead of a journey of discovery.

"Why?" Well I'm the Anglican - Rector of a 1000 year old church.. so where to begin...

Remembrance

Remembrance Sunday brings back memories of huge parades with every uniform organisation in the community out in strength. I joined Birtley Boys Brigade when I was 10 so that I could march with them. It was a mistake. I hated it. I paid one shilling for the badge but quit the week before I was due to receive it. So I never marched in the big parade.


This year in our Act of Remembrance at All Saints, Bob, (Squadron Leader Robert Vollum DFC) recited the familiar words of Binion, "They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old..." Bob is 88 and stands as straight as a ramrod. The remarkable thing is that he has grown old. So many of his comrades never did.



Bob, a man of firm Christian faith, flew many missions in world war two. He remembers one occasion when his plane was hit by flack from a lurking flack ship. The plane limped home. When they landed the crew counted 32 separate holes in the fuselage. "It was a dicey do," said Bob, (RAF understatement!) We were privileged to have Bob, wearing his Distinguished Flying Cross along with half a dozen other medals, to lead our Act of Remembrance at All Saints.

And then there is Afghanistan. Today a heart broken Mum complained about the Prime Ministers hastily scrawled letter of condolence. Her name was mispelt and the mispelling of her sons name clumsily corrected. Ed Miliband pointed out that the PMs handwriting is appalling, partly due to his one blind eye but that he gives time to writing these letters.

Maybe the real issue for this bereft Mum is not a lousy letter but that all she has is a lousy letter instead of a son.

Sabbatical over

Today is All Saints day and my first day back at All Saints Church. The Church was full. The children presented me with a "Welcome Home" card which they had made. It was very touching.
It is good to back.

I have come back refreshed. I have come back with new enthusiasm and purpose. There is a lot to be done. There are a myriad opportunities in this parish. I haven't come back with any master plan but with a sharper focus.

Prayer has never been a really easy option for me. I struggle. However this time has led me to a deepening experience of the joy of prayer. Contemplative prayer with an emphasis on reading, reflecting, responding and resting has become part of this journey. I hope to ensure that it will be part of the continuing journey.

This is called a Sabbatical blog and now the Sabbatical is done I wonder what next? Do I quit these ramblings or find a new voice? I will give it some thought. There is a lot more I would like to say.