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In 2000 classes 3S and 3D went on a Kettlewells double decker bus to Southwell Minster for Time Travelling.

Upon pulling up outside, a 7-year-old me could not remember seeing such a big and beautiful building. When Time Travelling, we joined several hundred other children sitting on the floor of the Minster. I sat on the right and the very front and looked up at Jesus suspended from the ceiling. He seemed so very very high up! We then broke into little groups and learned more about the Minster and Christianity. In one session I had my first taste of a communion wafer and put it in my left hand and ate it like my Mum did in Church.

It was a wonderful day.

Wind forward a few years and I learned that Southwell Minster was the Cathedral for our area. Our area is a called a diocese, which is a bit like a county. The Bishop who lives near the Minster looks after the diocese.

Our diocese, Southwell and Nottingham, has become home for me. It's rare to find a large community of people who are so loving, kind and willing to invest. If it hadn't been for the people of the diocese I wouldn't be getting ordained this month. They believed in me and saw something in me that I could barely see in myself. 

It was such a shock when I was invited to go on the link developing trip the Burundi when I was 19. Me? Really? Would you not rather take someone else? 

No, Bishop Paul B did want me to go. 

But then I needed £1400 to go on the trip. £1400?! How was that ever going to happen?!

Bishop Paul said the money would come.

'It flipping won't' I thought to myself. 'Nobody will give me that kind of money!'

Within 3 weeks of launching the fundraising campaign there was enough money for the trip, my jabs, all the gear I needed and more. So many people were generous, but it was thanks to a lot of people in Southwell and Nottingham diocese that the money was raised. 

I have represented the diocese on the National Youth Council, I have been guided through discerning a call to ordination, I have been on a Vacancy in See Committee, I have been funded through Vicar School, I have had 2 excellent placements, all because of the diocese.

Bishop Paul B, Bishop Tony, Bishop Richard, Bishop Paul W, Rosemary, Phil W, Sue HH, Julia, Tony W, Angela, Naomi, Sarah C, Ade, Alison, the list of people from the diocese who invested in me and have helped make me who I am knows no end.

So it should be no surprise to me that as I head to Liverpool, I do so with excitement, joy, happiness, contentment... and sadness. Saying goodbye to Southwell is going to be hard. But curacy isn't forever, and who knows what the future holds?

But just as the diocese has formed me, one place in particular has done more than that, it has raised me. 

All Halows, Ordsall, it's people and Reverend Sue Caddy are who I owe my biggest thanks to. This Church, this little church in the ever expanding village of Ordsall, is utterly wonderful. I am honoured to have seen it grow over the past 20 years. I have learned how to love people, to grow together, to preach the Good News and to build the kingdom. There is so much going on faithfully, firmly and quietly. Anyone who thinks Church success is just about numbers is wrong. It's about the way Jesus is proclaimed in that context. And believe me, he really is. I'm not saying it's perfect- like every family, it's messy at times! But that Church, and it's leader, are successfully building the Kingdom in Ordsall. And I will aim to copy that example everywhere I go. 

So thank you Southwell and Nottingham, and thank you All Hallows, Ordsall. 

When the fire all but died

I have been trying to avoid writing this blog for some weeks. But after several 'coincidences' over the past 2 weeks, I'm taking the plunge. So here is the warning: this is going the be a brutally honest post.

Prayer. Talking to God.

Prayer. Giving space for God to talk to you.

Prayer. A somewhat crucial part of being a church leader.

When I went to my Vicar Interview (Bishop's Advisory Panel) in January 2015, I received the following feedback: 'There is a certain naivety in the way that Poppy suggests that prayer 'works'.' This has become a bit of a joke amongst my close friends because how dare someone hoping to be selected to go to Vicar School suggest that prayer works?  How utterly ridiculous to confidently assert that you think that there is a point to talking to God when you would like to lead a church in the future.

Well, the joke is now on me. Kind of.

I have been hugely affected by the death of a young woman who I never met. I won't go into much detail about how silly I feel about this, considering I never met her, but nevertheless, after 2 years of praying for healing it did not happen. 5 weeks before her death, I saw my Mum in hospital tied up to all kinds of tubes, unable to speak, with a very swollen face. She is now, thankfully, better. But these two events brought me face to face with suffering in a way that I am yet to get over.

Added to this, being constantly soaked in theology, Church services and passionate debate at Vicar School has left me somewhat numb to it all. In my previous patches of struggle in my spiritual life, I have moved past it by a close encounter with God in church. But at Vicar School, church happens every day and the depths of my confusion and pain are yet to be overcome.

The link between prayer and the death of a young women I never met is this: the world is a mess and people die unjustly. I cannot change that, but I know and believe someone can (that's God, by the way). So what is he playing at?

I do not believe that God needed another angel.
I do not believe that God made this happening to prevent further suffering because the God I love wouldn't slowly kill someone with a terminal illness for two years in order to save them from pain later on.
I do not believe that this suffering has taught us any lessons that were worth learning compared to the pain caused.

I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on The Problem of Evil and came to the conclusion that this an important question to ask, but it's what we do about the suffering that matters. Yeah, good 'un Pops, but what can be done about this kind of suffering? I am helpless to prevent this kind of suffering, and loss of life like that is just wasteful. I've gone round in circles for months and I've been in a bit of a rut. I'm left with nothing but a stubborn kind of conscientiousness in which this trainee vicar is at a loss about what to say to God. But I plod on anyway because I refuse to do this vicar thing without integrity, and if I'm not at least trying to pray then what is the point?

But that doesn't mean to say that there haven't been special moments between last December and now, because there have. Several Bible readings, worship songs, Church services, conversations with people I love and humbling encounters with congregation members have really touched my heart. Greenbelt was great, Thy Kingdom Come was great, placement was great, Holy Week was great, Christmas was great and weekly College Communion is pretty much always great. But nothing has yanked me out of this theological hole that I've been exploring and getting to know quite well.

I'm used to spiritual storms. Storms, I can do. It's the drought that is new. Feeling like my prayers are hitting the ceiling and falling to the floor with a kind of limp, near lifeless thud. I've been feeling like everything is dry, old and cracked. I've had to do a lot of discerning over the past year, but I've been leaning on my past experiences and been having dealings with God is a more military fashion. 'What do you want me to do next, Sir?' as I stood to spiritual attention and awaited the next command. The result is that I've followed to directions given, but my relationship with God has not deepened. Like I said, it's very dry and barren at the moment, but I do feel like I'm moving forward. I may be heading out of the desert or I might be heading into yet more desert, I can't tell other than I am in fact, moving.

But there is hope, as this morning's Bible reading reminds us:

'The desert and the parched land will be glad;
The wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like a crocus, it will burst into bloom;
It will greatly rejoice and shout for joy...
Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.
The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where the jackals once lay,
Grass and reeds and papyrus will grow' (Isaiah 35. 1-2, 6-7)

When I was on placement over the summer, I expressed a little of what I've written about here and what advised to read 'God on Mute' which, conveniently, I was given about 18 months ago and have been meaning to read ever since. I have begun reading this book, and I think it's going to help. I just wanted to capture this feeling so that I could encourage myself should it ever happen again.

And what if 'God on Mute' doesn't help? Well I'll keep going and pushing forwards with that stubborn conscientiousness until something works, because I know something will at some point.

Ultimately, I like to think that what my Mum says is true. She says that when it comes to God, we get points for trying.

You called... Again?!

It seems like so much more than a year ago that I sat in this Chapel (St Cuthbert's Chapel, Durham Cathedral) thinking about my calling to Durham. In my first week of College, there was a quiet day in the Cathedral and I took myself off to see Cuthbert in the Chapel behind the quire. It was in this moment that a rush of dread and adrenaline filled my heart as someone who once caused me much pain walked into said Chapel. Or so I thought. 
It turned out that it was new friend Nathan who walked in, not that person from my past. But never the less, this case of mistaken identity really put me on my guard around Nathan and I knew it was something that I had to work and pray through if I stood any chance of having a friendship with Nathan. As a person brand new to Theological College at that point, I didn't want to write anyone off, especially for such a daft reason: that they looked like somebody that I used to know. So I prayed through that feeling of fear and began to see Nathan for the man he is, rather than the person he looks like. 
It turns out that even though Nath had the odds stacked against him because of the memories his presence stirred up inside me, God can really work miracles. From that time when the sight of a new friend stirred up hundreds of bad memories of an old aquaintance, my heart and I have come a long way. 

My heart still skips a beat when I see Nathan, but for an entirely different reason now. It's because I love him, rather than because he reminds me of someone from messy days gone by. After the Quiet Day last year, I gained a wonderful friend through hours of talking and laughing over cups of pepper,isn't tea. We had much in common at the same time as expanding each other's horizons with our own unique passions and interests. 
Gradually, a niggle grew and my heart skipped in a different way. I had known similar feeling before, but this time I absolutely didn't want them. I tried to walk, run and stamp them out. Because what kind of an idiot falls for another Ordinand? It's a logistical nightmare that I won't bore you with right now but it's Just. Plain. Stupid. 
But somewhere along the way, I noticed a pattern in my inner dialogue that resonated with another conversation I've had with myself over the years. When I realised that my inner battle about my feelings for Nathan looked much like my inner battle about my calling to ordained ministry, I began to suspect that I might need to do something about it. 
Wind forward 9 months and I'm in Cuth's Chapel for the Induction Week Quiet Day again, astounded at how different my life looks now. Calling tips your own plans upside down and takes you to places you had never imagined. 5 years ago I was simply studying theology for love, but now I'm an Ordinand in the Church of England, studying for my Masters at the University of Durham, with several international place,nets under my belt and I've fallen in love with the boy across the hall and we're going to Formby together in June. 

Wow!

Letting God in to transform your life isn't always easy, but it leads to a life that's full of surprises. The journey I just mentioned might look amazing and shiny, but there's been some sacrifices along the way. When you just about think you're settled and you've got the future planned, God comes along and shakes up the snow globe again. 
I was really happy, willing and delighted to go home and serve Southwell and Nottingham Diocese as a curate. I love the people there, and I think they're fond of me too. But it became clear that beginning to think of 'we' rather than 'me' meant that going back home wasn't right at this point. It's been a hard decision to make, and it will inevitably get more painful when we more to Liverpool and my friends are fewer and my family are further. But in the constant formation of life and heart, God called us to Formby and I couldn't be more excited about that! 
Sat here in Cuth's Chapel right now, I'm overwhelmed at the grace God has shown me, and the distance I have come in a year. My heart still skips a beat, but in an entirely different way.

Siblings

Jesus once told a story about a family. 

A man had two sons and the younger one said ‘Father, give me my share of the estate’.

This man is impatient for his share of the inheritance so that he can have more independence and money. He is greedy, rude and impatient but more than that, he is wishing his Father dead. Inheritance worked in their culture the same way that ours does today. Inheritance is something that a person would usually receive when someone has died. By asking for his share of the estate for nothing in particular, the son is asking for the lump sum he would receive when his Father had died. The younger son is as good as declaring that he doesn't care if his Father is dead or alive.

And ‘So the Father divided his property between his two sons’

We can only guess as to why this is. The Father could have said no and refused, but he didn’t. Maybe he was hoping that if he was kind his son would stay around. Maybe it was shock at the insult so he blindly did what his son asked anyway. Maybe it was because he was cross about it, but as a fair man he decided to give his son the money, hoping that he would go away and he would never see the rude boy again! But I am more inclined to think that it was because, hurt as he was, he wanted to give his son the chance to do some good.

But shortly after, the younger son gathered together all the money he had and set off for a distant land. As sad as it was for the Father to hear that the son wanted his share of the inheritance, it must have been just as hard, if not harder for him to watch his son leave and go far away.

When the son arrived, we hear that he ‘squandered his wealth in wild living’. The money wasn’t spent doing good, in a wise investment or to help anyone else at all. It was wasted on things that he didn’t need, but he simply wanted. 

But it didn’t last. When there was a famine in the land, he had spent all of his money and so had nothing for food. He went and found himself a job feeding pigs in a field. He was so hungry that he would have even eaten the leftovers that the pigs were fed. Unlike his Father who gave him exactly what he asked for, the people in that land showed him no kindness and gave him nothing to eat.

This was a pretty dire situation for the son to be in. When he was at home, he was part pf a wealthy family who could give him so much money when he demanded it. He then went and lived exactly as he chose, presumably eating what he wanted, whenever and wherever he liked. 

He is now starving, feeding animals whose food is more nutritious than anything he can get his hands on.

Finally, he came to his senses and he decided to go home and work as one of his father’s hired hands, because he knew that they were treated better than he was being treated in the foreign land. As he is heading home, he prepares a speech to say to his Father when he sees him:

‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men’.

It’s a brave move for him to decide to go home. He must know the hurt he has caused his father and the wrong that he has done. Yet, I think, sometimes we have to hit rock bottom, like the younger son does, before we can decide to return home. We have to fall to the very bottom of the pit before we can work out a strategy to climb our way out.

But it takes only a little effort on the youngest son’s part for the story to turn around.

Jesus said ’But while he was still a long way off, his Father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around his neck and kissed him’

A man who is important with a lot of land loses all sense of decorum, and runs, tunic flying, dust rising, sweat spraying, to meet his son who has caused him so much pain!

Initially, the son was impatient for his Father’s fortune. But now it is the Father’s turn to be impatient. Impatiently, he sees him coming in the distance. Impatiently, he runs to meet him. Impatiently, he embraces and kisses him.

Like I said, this is a story about a family, about people. It’s about real life, about mistakes, about coming home and about a love that knows no limits.

The younger son begins the speech that he has prepared but he doesn’t even make it to the end of it before his Dad interrupts and announces that they are going to have a party! Father tells the servants to bring a fine robe, put a ring on his finger, give him some shoes, and kill the plump calf for a party! He instantly reinstates him and lifts him out of his poverty.

This is generosity. This is forgiveness. And this is grace.

In the story, we hear nothing else from the younger son from that moment on. And I don’t think that is an accident. His well-rehearsed speech for his Father wasn’t even given because his Father was in too much of a hurry to welcome him home and to rejoice that he was found. 

It’s astounding, breath-taking, outrageous love that would leave anyone speechless! So the prodigal son has no more speech.  

But the story is not over yet. Next we hear off another member of this family for the first time. Next we hear off the elder pf the two sons. The elder son comes back from working in the field and is greeted by the sounds of a huge party! He is not best impressed. All he sees is a big fuss being made about something unexpectedly, without him being told or invited. In the end, he has to ask a servant what all the fuss is about. The servant informal him that his brother has come home!

Now this is the moment for the elder brothers grace. It is the moment for him to be joyous. It is the moment for him to look at what his father has done and behave likewise. But he fails. The elder brother fails to see this in the gracious and joyful way that his Father did. This time, the elder brother messes up. He refuses to go into the party and throws a strop.

Now, if you’re comparing like for like, the younger brother did behave worse. It was the younger brother who wished his father dead, was greedy, wasteful and selfish. But that doesn’t mean that the elder brother’s behaviour should simply be shrugged off.

The elder brother has a conversation with his father about the injustice of the situation. The Father killed the fatted calf for the younger son but has never even given a goat for the elder brother to share with his friends. The elder brother is quick to point this out and is jealous about the way that the younger brother is being treated.

This, is no life changing, heart breaking, ‘as good as dead’ situation that the younger brother inflicted on his Father, but it still isn’t great. Rather than a crash, bang, wallop kind of sin, this is low level bitterness that is more about general attitude. As a response, the Father says; My son, you were always here with me and everything i have is yours. But your brother who we assumed was dead is home and we had to celebrate! He was lost, and now he is found’. The father has to show grace to both of his sons. One receives it, and the other needs a little more help in understanding it.

When I preach, I aim to preach to myself as much as everyone in the room, and believe me, this is especially true today.

Over the course of my life, I can look back and identify with all three of the characters that we have looks at today. There have been times when I have been lost, made the smallest step towards home and was met so fiercely by God’s love that it is almost impossible to comprehend. I have also, exceptionally rarely, been more like the Father. As a human, I have managed to access some of the Father’s love and show grace and hospitality to others when I should have been too hurt to do that. But more often, I think, I am the elder son who just needs a bit of an attitude adjustment. My response is not what it ought to be. I can be selfish, jealous and bitter.

Whichever way I read this text I get a bit of a slap in the face. I go my own way. I come home too late. I’m too slow to accept. Or I just simply don’t understand forgiveness and love. If I have any one main reflection, it’s this. Who are you in that text? Where are you dwelling at the moment? What behaviour do you identify with? And what can you see in others?

Call me pessimistic, but as much as we would like to, I don’t think many of us spend 24/7 in the state of the Father. I spend most of my time swinging between the attitude of the two sons, if I’m honest. But, as the story tells us, there is good news! If we are far away, the Father will meet us and welcome us home, arms open wide! Just as in this story,there is to be huge rejoicing when we are found! And if we are the elder son, faithfully doing our bit with a bit of a grump inside us then there is even more good news still! There is help, guidance and explanation from the Father when we don’t understand.

While writing this I have noticed the silences in the story. Like I said, the Father gives his speech and we hear no more from the Prodigal Son. But it happens again. The Father explains to the elder son why he has behaved in this way and there is more silence. We don’t hear off either of the brothers again.

So just as I begin to come to a close, let me offer you this scene.

All day long the hot sun has been beating down. All day long I have been working this soil. As the sun sets, I clearly have a head ache. I can hear a gentle thud, thud, thud, as I often do when I get a migraine. The 'thud, thud, thud' could be coming from the house, but it can’t be. It’s a flipping Tuesday night and that’s not a night for parties! It’s got to be my head. 

Right, enough is enough, I’m going back to the house. My word, that thumping is getting louder! My head must be really bad, I’m going get home, have a quiet bath and then go straight to bed. 

I’m exhausted. Hang on. That sound is coming from the house. What in the world is going on?! Why can’t a woman get some peace! I can’t believe this! Dad can’t know about this party, or he’d go berserk! It must be that flipping new cleaner, he’s always causing trouble and now he’s using our house for a great big party!

'Oy! You, what’s going on here?! You what? My sister is back? And Dad killed Billy the calf?! How dare he?! The pain she put us all through and he responds in this way?! That’s just enforcing bad behaviour that is. And Billy was my favourite!'

'Right. Dad! Dad! What on earth are you doing? Giving her a heroes welcome, are you? Killing Billy for a great big massive Tuesday night party, are you? Treating her like a Princess are y–'

Dad cuts me off. He would never do this for me. But maybe he doesn’t need to. I’ve been here all along, watching the pain. Watching him and Mum worry. But Dad’s right. She's home. Don’t tell anyone, but I cried myself to sleep for a month when she went off, especially after all the painful things she said. I’m angry because she doesn’t know how it feels. Mum and Dad must be angry too. But they allowed their love to be bigger.

Dad has quietly and calmly put me in my place. He has helped me understand. I’m going to go into the party now. I’m going to go and see my little sister. It’s been hard here, but she doesn’t know that. I’m going to go and hug her right now! And she can flipping well deal with my sweaty, mucky body embracing hers after a day in the field!

We don’t know what happened at the end of the story- just that the Father addressed what needed addressing in each of his children. There is always work to be done on ourselves. Improvements can always be made. But that is why we have the Father to guide us. He will show us what we most need, if we first come home, and then we let him.

Amen.

11 months later...

Rather embarrassingly, I haven't blogged in 11 months. 

The aim was to blog about Vicar School as it happened and keep a record of all that went on throughout the year. But what I actually have is a brain full of slightly jumbled memories and a vibrant Facebook photo album called 'Vicar School'- no blogs in sight!

So I sit here in Grantham train station about to start my final week of my last block placement of College, first pumpkin spiced latte of the season in hand, 9 months of training left, with one main question: how the hell did that happen?! 

The truth is that so much has happened that I haven't had much change to give any thought to my 'ordinand adventures' blog. And much as I'd like to promise that this coming year will be different, I can't.  So I just thought I'd throw down a few ideas about the last year while I had a spare half an hour before final year starts. 

So, a whistle stop tour of my first year of training, by Poppy Richards:

-I arrived at College and the first two weeks were an exhausting blur of new friends, new rules, new jargon and too many carbs (see previous post).

-I started placement on Sundays and Fridays in a brilliant Church which was higher than anything I've ever worked in before. I was involved in a funeral service for the first time, which I found to be a hugely moving experience.

-Before we knew it we were at our first year weekend away. This is where we gave up our day off to spend time together in a retreat house thinking about formation, playing card games and finally learning everyone's name!

-Then we rolled into November where Durham was filled with light and millions of people for Lumiere. But despite the excellent display of lights, my body was present in Durham when my mind and heart were not. My excellent family rallied together as my Mum had surgery and, yet again, astounded us all at her resilience and strength. #hero

-In our Mission lecture, we were sent out in pairs to proclaim the Good News. There is only so much time you can spend talking about something before you are itching to get on and do it!

-Cranmer hosted an women's conference, Named, Known and Called, where I sang in the band. Watching a room full of women sing 'you have our hearts, Lord, take our lives' truly renewed my faith in the Church and still gives me heaps of hope for the future. 

-We slid quickly into December where Durham got COLD and spirits were high. John's Music Night, where talent was dripping from the walls, reminded me why I'd chosen to come to Cranmer in the first place. The undergrad and postgrad students (non ordinands) that we share a College with can enrich training so much if we let it. They are excellent. 

-Term finished with a service in he Cathedral and a Cranmer Party. Strangers a term ago were now best friends and I left Durham for the holidays both bursting with joy, and tired to my core! 

In and amongst all that, I had fallen in love (yuck, vom, gross, cringe, slush. Yeah, I get it, and I didn't see it coming either). But the new year didn't bring the usual resolutions and heart ache (January and February have been particularly difficult months over the past few years). Instead it brought sunlight shimmering, strawberry ice cream, all encompassing joy in the form of a relationship with my boyfriend, Nathan.

-Straight to work though, the day after we got together I preached on placement, videoed myself and the had to critique myself in an essay. This is not an experience I wish to repeat- hearing myself preach on video was weird and awkward. 

-In February I found myself in Prison for the weekend (!) with others on my course, leading a group of men in a Faith Sharing Weekend based on the Psalms. 

-In March placement wound up, Easter came and I ran for an Exec position in College. I get to help out both the Cranmer and the St John's Common Rooms by acting as the point of communication between them and encouraging inter Common Room relations. 

Final term was a weird blur with block teaching and all kinds of different things. There was Sex & Gender, diversity week, a placement in a school, a week in a monetary, mission in Newcastle Cathedral on referendum day and, of course, lots of goodbyes followed by the ordinations of some of the best men and women that I know. 

Just before I wrap up, I may as well cover summer while I'm at it! 3 weddings, a hospital placement, a Parish placement, a festival, birthday parties and curacy visits. 

So there you have it. To quote Rent (a musical reference, of course!), how do you measure a year like that? 

Cups of tea? Midnight theological conversations?Stones gained through College food and a boyfriend who makes you happy? Essays? Grades? Songs sung? People reached? Hearts touched? Miles travelled? Sermons preached? Friends made?

It can't be done, such a year cannot be measured. But I can say that gradually, but by bit, I have been stretched, formed, molded and changed by the things seen and experienced this last year. Sometimes you don't realise how far you've come until you look back to where you started from. 

Thank you, Cranmer Hall. 

A new chapter

Hello! Welcome to my new blog space!

I know I've done this a couple of times before but this time I promise to try and keep updating my blog regularly. I might even be so organised as to set an alarm on my phone or something.

So today is actually my favourite day of the year, so what better day than to begin a new series of blogs? The reason that today is my favourite day of the year is because September is my favourite month. It means new diaries, stationary, lists, timetables, equipment- it means going back to school! I always loved school, so much so that I really thought that I would become a teacher because what better career is there for somebody who loves to learn? However, God had other plans which is what these blogs are going to be about. Also, 1st September is the day that the Hogwarts Express leaves Kings Cross Station at 11 o'clock so what's not to love?'

Anyway, I am an ordinand. This is church talk for 'someone who has been recommended to train to be a vicar'. They are sending me to 'Vicar School'. I will be there for 2 years before there is a big service in the Cathedral and they put a dog collar around my neck. This is if it all goes well. Like when going from GCSEs to Sixth Form of College, you need to get the grades before you can go. I need to do well for 2 years before I wear a dog collar.

This is another reason why I'm particularly excited today... At the end of the month I'm going back to school! Well, Vicar School. Still, as with all things school this means new books, sticky notes, highlighters, diaries, pens, note books, (the list really could go on forever!). I'm moving to the beautiful city of Durham and I get to live in halls, which I never did when I was at normal Uni! It's all very exciting! Actually, that's a lie. I'm definitely a bit scared too! 

Anyway, welcome to my new blog! If you want to read about what kind of things I'm getting up to as an ordinand then please pop back occasionally to have a read!

Much love x