Self-indulgent today, because 6th December is my anniversary of ordination, and today I become a teenage minister, as it was thirteen years ago that I made my ordination vows.  The photo is the ring I bought for myself to commemorate the moment, to serve as a visible reminder of the vows I had made.  Whilst I no onger wear the ring (due to lymphoedema) the symbolsim remains.

It was a cold, dank December day, and people had travelled up specially from Dibley to Warrington to participate in the service.  My former boss (who had travelled down from East Kilbride with a former colleague from Stirling) read the lessons.  Children from each of the churches I worked with during my training led the intercessions. Guests included Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Methodists, URC, Baptists and 'nothings'.  One of my tutors preached.  I met my Mum from a train and put her back on another later that evening.  A South African exchange student attended as part of his experience of Britsh Baptist life.  A pianist from a placement church accompanied the hymns, and the music group from Warrington played for the songs. Maybe it was prophetic that the minister of WBC at the time was a Scot, who knew!  Sincere vows were made.  Sandwiches were eaten (by everyone else anyway!). Tea was drunk.  Gifts and cards were given.

Thirteen years on, and a lot has changed.  Dibley has left the building.  The Gatherers have (temporarily) left the building.  Warrington will soon leave the building.  My theology continues to evolve and change.  Ministry is still definitely an experiment and I still don't know what proper ministers actually do.  As I said at my end of probation/NAM interview, the good bits have been so much better, and the bad bits so much worse, than I could ever have imagined.

Perhaps it's fitting that today is a training day for the BUS Board of Ministry, and will be looking at the whole process of exploring call with candidates. 

For me, there is the mischievous thought that as a teenager minister, I am allowed to be even more stroppy and angsty, and the sober one that God has entrusted to me the "cure of souls" (as our Anglican friends would put it), than which there there is no greater privilege or responsibility.

I was delighted to discover that our Sunday School have chosen Refuwegee as their Christmas project this year.  I am looking forward to choosing the contents of the bag I will prepare.

But one line got me thinking... "something that makes you think of home" with the suggestion that this (obviously) be something Scottish or Glaswegian.  Trouble is, for me, 'home' is not defined by place.  When I lived in Northampton, that was home.  When I lived in Warrington, that was home.  Now, living in Glasgow, this is home.  But it's not the food or the architectural icons or even the culture that makes a place 'home' for me; it's not even the place that makes it home, it's something much less tangible.

In Dibley, the Baptist chapel had four sandstone foundation stones, each engraved with the names of one of the main benefactors and a faith statement: God our Father, Christ our Saviour, the Sprirt our Helper (I think) and, notably, "heaven our home". 

That always resonated with me.  For me, my identity, whether that is "nationality" or "citizenship" is not defined geographically or politically but, I guess, "ontologically".  Ultimately my identity is in Christ and my home is wherever Christ is... and that has no geo-political definition other than "the cosmos".

Tunnocks teacakes and IRNBRU don't cut it for me - and neither do Eccles cakes or decent Stilton or Melton Mowbray pork pies or any of the other wonderful regional delicacies that I have encountered along life's journey this far.  Home, for me, is where my cats are... and I can hardly put a cat in a gift bag for someone newly arrived in Glasgow!

Among the gifts I was given when I arrived in Glasgow was a lovely Saltire mug, sadly it got broken somewhere along the way  but it was hugely symbolic coming from a family of English and Irish parentage who had made their home here.  I think I might look for something similar to put into my gift... maybe along with a box of English breakfast tea!! ;-)

Part of the story we recall in Advent is about leaving home, about having to choose very carefully what from home we may carry with us and what new things we have yet to discover that will allow us to find a sense of "home" wherever we may be. 

I think my prayer has to be that people would discover a sense of "home" whatever that means for them, wherever they may be.