If you've got extra time, follow the Animal Trail in the churchyard and solve the hidden message.

Lent is nearly over! We will soon be celebrating the most joyful day in the Christian calendar. Before we get there, I encourage you to take a moment to look back on the last thirty or so days and ask yourself: What have I missed most during the season now coming to a close? Perhaps it’s indulging in your favourite tipple in the evening; the cake, puddings or crisps missing from your meal times; or maybe it’s the time you no longer spend playing video games or looking on social media. Perhaps you’ve been missing the flowers in church?

Alleluia, Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
With these words of the Easter Acclamation, church lights are thrown on, bells ring, and, according to the service rhetoric, noise is made! It is a bright and joyful scene, in sharp contrast to the days which have gone before. Holy Week, particularly the last few days of that week, is a dark and highly emotional time as we commemorate the final days of Christ’s life on earth.

In 2011 the UK Christian charity, Stewardship, launched its “Forty Acts of Kindness” challenge. On each day of Lent, participants were encouraged to perform an act of kindness, sometimes for family or friends, sometimes for complete strangers, or for the community as a whole. Challenges ranged from litter picking to paying the grocery bill of the person in front of you at the supermarket.

The January talk from Paul Harding of Discover History told us all about how life was in the Stone Ages, around the Worcestershire Area.

Our Christingle Service was well attended and a lovely way to lead into Christmas Day and the birth of Jesus.

Happy New Year! For me, it is always exciting to stand at the start of a new year with feelings of hope and potential for the year ahead.
Of course, it’s not that way for everyone. For many 2023 will already feel very daunting with the cost-of-living crisis, increased use of food banks and worries about being able to afford to put the heating on. I pray that those who are worried will find the support they need and that 2023 might not be as bad as they fear.

In some ways, 4th July 2010 seems like yesterday. It was on that day that I was ordained deacon in Worcester Cathedral. There was a moment before the service, in the crypt, where we sat in silence and the bishop then prayed with all the candidates. Part of me wanted him to just do the ordination then, quietly and simply, rather than face the very public ceremony upstairs. It is all remarkably clear in my mind, which is why it sometimes comes as a shock to realise that this happened more than twelve years ago.

2022 has been a year of remembering, both celebratory and poignant. The Platinum Jubilee celebrations of Queen Elizabeth II in June, followed by her death in September, both caused us to cast our minds back across her extraordinarily long seventy-year reign in which the world changed dramatically. One memory in particular surfaced repeatedly, which was the promise Princess Elizabeth made on her twenty-first birthday to dedicate her life to service.

I am writing this letter on September 9th – the day on which I, like so many others, woke for the first time in my life to an England not ruled over by Queen Elizabeth 11. Our late queen gave us all a marvelous example of faithful duty and service. Such was her grace, dedication and charm that even many who have no enthusiasm for the monarchy as an institution, held Elizabeth as a person in high esteem and respect. Her passing marks the end of an era and many people will find it difficult to instantly and fully grasp the reality that this lady – mother, grandmother to a few, loved and admired by so many, head of state and Church, is no longer at the helm. To slightly misquote the future Queen Mary, speaking of the death of that other great queen, Victoria: “The thought of England without Queen Elizabeth is dreadful even to think of. God help us all!”1