A year ago, I was eagerly anticipating the start of a two week block of Sabbatical time, during which I planned to walk the Whithorn Way.  From day one, these plans had to be adjusted to accommodate other events, and severe winter storms led to me abandoning the endeavour, and instead enjoying some social history in Glasgow.  It seems quite strange now, looking at photos of large groups of people in relatively small spaces.

The sabbatical ended up being put on hold, twice, and has now changed form into something very different, though equally interesting and challenging, as I plan to begin professional training as a Pastoral Supervisor at the end of March.  The strange world we inhabit means the course notionally runs in Australia, so I am looking forward to meeting people from a different culture.

This time last year, I was looking forward to walking St Cuthbert's Way (which I cancelled days before Lockdown happened) and had ideas for holidays and meet-ups with friends acorss the UK.   As it worked out, I last went outside of Scotland last February when I had half a week at Windermere, and have only been outside Glasgow once (for work purposes, and with speical permission) once since Lockdown began.

Instead, I have walked more than a thousand miles since October alone, all within the city boundary, and have enjoyed much natural beauty as well as visiting parks I had never quite got around to before.

As we near a year since restrictions began, I am starting to look back, to recall and enjoy the moments that were good and life-giving, of which there are so very many.

There's a saying that 'life is what happens whilst you are making other plans' and I guess the past year has demonstrated that especially clearly.

One day I will get to Whithorn, one day I will venture beyond the Anglo-Scottish Border, one day I won't tramp round wet streets in the dark, one day I won't spend half my life in a rectangle on someone's computer screen... and until then, in the meantime, I will choose to look for everyday beauty, will savour each day for its own worth and keep on keepiong on, trusting that, in the end, all will be well.

The photo is taken looking along Sauchiehall Street near Charing Cross - I like the slightly strange street art, and I love the clear blue sky just a few days ago, before the winter rains set in.  My Dad always taught us to look up - and I think that was wise.

Over the past months, I have from time to time enjoyed the videos recorded by the Marsh family who live in Faversham (a town in Kent, south east of England).  As I talk to minister colleagues, there is a growing sense of weariness, an 'ennui' or 'fed-up-ness', in our churches and commnuities, and, if we are honest, within ourselves.

This is the most recent offering from the Marsh family which echoes that in a humourous way - I hope it makes you smile (and you may enjoy some of their other offerings).

We continue to hope, to actively be people opf hope, to glimspe signs of hope... and sometimes a little bit of levity helps with that.

Today is a beautifully sunny day, but for various reasons I've only managed about 4 miles walking this afternoon.  Not to worry, the route I took - partly around the grounds of Gartnaval Hospitals - was brimming with beauty, from birds to buds, all of which seemed to herald spring in some small way.

As January draws to its end, there is a growing and palpable sense of ennui.  People seem to be running out of conversation, there really isn't much to chat about, at least not that is life-giving, it seems.  But nature continues to be hopeful and hope-filled.  The hours of daylight increase.  The trees put forth buds and the buds even being to burst into catkins or other signs of new growth.  And tenaciously poking through the leaf-mould and overgrown grass, green shoots reach for the sun as bulbs wake from sleep, promising snowdrops, croci and daffodils in due course.

So, a short walk, but a joyful one.

For almost half a century, I have been involved in WPCU services and initiatives.  From neighbourhood visiting in the 1970s, to shared Bible studies in the 1980s, to joint services and pulipt swaps in the 1990s, 2000s and 2010s.  Sometimes it all feels a bit tired, but I am grateful for the World Council of Churches, CTBI, CTE and ACTS who do their bit to fan the flickering ember.

Here is a prayer for this year.

This opening Litany of Praise is from the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity 2021 taken from the ecumenical service published by CTBI prepared by the The Monastic Community of Grandchamp. Switzerland. 

Congregation: You who call us to be praise in the midst of the earth: glory to you!
Reader 1: We sing your praise in the midst of the world and among all peoples,
Reader 2: We sing your praise in the midst of creation and among all creatures.
Congregation: You who call us to be praise in the midst of the earth: glory to you!
Reader 1: We sing your praise among suffering and tears,
Reader 2: We sing your praise among promises and achievements.
Congregation: You who call us to be praise in the midst of the earth: glory to you!
Reader 1: We sing your praise in the places of conflict and misunderstanding;
Reader 2: We sing your praise in the places of encounter and reconciliation.
Congregation: You who call us to be praise in the midst of the earth: glory to you!
Reader 1: We sing your praise in the midst of rifts and divisions,
Reader 2: We sing your praise in the midst of life and death, the birth of a new heaven and a new earth.
Congregation: You who call us to be praise in the midst of the earth: glory to you!

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I'm not really one for watching state ceremonies, but I did watch part of the Presidential Inauguration yesterday - the speech, the poem and the benediction.

The speech was no less than I would have hoped for, calm , measured, and future-focused.  The mood was, for me anyway,  as important as the message.

The benediction was really intercession, but that's probably down to me being a liturgical pendant, and whilst stylistically it wasn't my thing, these were sincere and hopeful prayers.

It was poem that for me, and for many, was the most striking.  Poetry seems to have changed form significantly in recent year to become more 'spoken word', more poetic-prose, with little or no rhyme, and the rhythm, such as it is, arises in the delivery rather than the any inherent pattern of syllable and stress.  In recent years, I have come to admire and value this poetic style, with its pithy, punchy observations and fearless responses to complex matters.

Amanda Gorman really delivered! A woman whose words were profound, powerful and prophetic.  And which can be read in full here

I have a suspicion that a lot of preachers this Sunday will look across the ocean and reflect on these words of others.  It's understandable, but it's not what I'll be doing.  For me, the words don't need my comment, my interpretation, my ham-fisted endeavour to reinterpret or reapply them to this context.  They stand alone and draw the reader or hearer to their own, private and personal response.

I hope and pray that the hopes and prayers expressed yesterday are indeed worked out in the months and years ahead.  And I hope and pray that the truths expressed will be embraced and enacted wherever they are heard.