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It's Time!

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  This sermon was written for our Sunday morning service on 18th February 2024 - the First Sunday of Lent. The gospel was Mark 1:9-15 . I can’t quite believe it’s Lent already! It seems like only the other week we were celebrating the end of Christmas, and now, here we are, already preparing for Easter. Oh – hang on – it was only the other week we were celebrating the end of Christmas. Just 14 days ago, Fi and Caroline led us in our Candlemas service. That time between Christmas and Lent really has been a whistlestop tour this year. Perhaps less so for us in the Church than for those who work in retail though. I distinctly remember Jen messaging me when she was shopping on 6 th January to say that she’d already seen Easter Eggs for sale!   Time really is relative, I guess!   Knowing that doesn’t make any of it feel less of a rush, though, does it? I have to be honest, I’ve not really had time yet to think about what my Lenten discipline this year is going to be.  

Animal Poems

These poems were written for our February monthly poetry group. The theme was 'animals'. I found this a difficult theme to work with, but I hope you enjoy reading them! The Battle Silver trails, silver trails  On the front room rug. I will find you, my nighttime nemesis!  ...An  ode  to a slug. An Evening to Myself All is silent as I sip my wine. A sudden scuttling approaches! I shout, and spill on my brand new shirt. A poem for cockroaches. Trauma There are no words that rhyme with 'wasps', But this verse goes out to them, from me. As a child, one stung me on my palm. They can  all  get in the sea. Disgust Earwig, earwig, you look quite foul. You make my insides squirm. I'm not penning any verse for you. Instead,  this  poem's for a worm.

Christmas 2023

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This sermon was preached at our Midnight Mass service on Christmas Eve 2023. It's a rehash of my sermon from the same service in 2021. I hope you enjoy reading it, anyway! Happy Christmas to you! Can you feel it? Have you got that Christmassy feeling yet?   However old we get, there’s still something magical about Christmas isn’t there? And tonight, when Christmas Eve turns into Christmas morning is – for me – the most magical time of the whole season. Maybe it’s all that sherry I drank earlier? Or  maybe , it’s the fact that it *is* night time – the witching hour, if you like, and just being here with you all, with the flickering candles and the beautiful, stirring Christmas music evoking that sense of magic for me. Perhaps that’s why you’re here too? To seek a small glimpse of that Christmas magic?   Even as we grow out of childhood and into adults, I think we still, deep down, hold out hope that the magic of Christmas still exists. We cling to the possibility of all that Christm

God is Sleeping

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This poem was written for our December poetry group. The theme given was either Love or Christmas... I chose the latter. I hope you enjoy reading it. Happy Christmas! God is Sleeping "Peace on earth", the angels whispered. And for one night, there was peace. The strife was hushed  as all ears strained to hear the snuffles of the sleeping baby, The tiny whimpers providing the signs of life Of a living, breathing, murmuring God. "Do not be afraid", the angels commanded. And for once, all was calm. Fear was cast out as all heartbeats settled in time to a single lullaby, Rocking the creator of the universe as he slept, Safe in the swaddled embrace of the Father's perfect love. "We bring great joy!", the angels sang. And for once, the whole world joined the chorus. The Light shone in the streets and fields as all voices joined as one in laugher and song, And the baby in the manger momentarily opened his eyes  And blew a raspberry to the darkness. But now, t

November Memories

This poem was written for our monthly poetry group, The theme for November was memories/remembering. I hope you enjoy reading it! November Memories "Remember, remember"; you excitedly recite the poem you have learnt to me.  "Do you know it, Daddy?" And my childhood memories suddenly burst into my mind. Grabbing a stick to check for hedgehogs under the bonfire my own Dad had built in the back garden. And when it was lit - the siren-song of the beckoning heat and hypnotising flames, Calling me closer, only to make me recoil and flinch as the fire suddenly cracks  And a burning scrap of paper flies free from its boundaries, Racing towards my face before suddenly fleeing and fading  into the cold night sky. I can see the enticing tin that the fireworks came in,  looking all the while like a magical box of forbidden treats; Fountains of gunpowder sherbet. Explosions of neon popping candy. A golden sparkler; a treacherous lolly-pop I hold at arm's length  for fear of