Ten years

Ten years. It didn't seen that long. When she had arrived on the windy early October day- windy seemed to have been the prevailing weather, that autumn- after the long journey that had begun early that morning, up threw A17, the A1, the A64, roads she would come to know like the back of her hand over the next few years, long before she drove them herself.

The ducks quacked and the wind blew as she and her mother found their way to the porters lodge and queued for her room keys. Then in coloured jeans and a striped blue jacket she followed an older student up to her room.  With mounting excitement she opened the door.  A room of her own. 

 Later, after her mother had left and she had evaded all the people trying to sell her over-priced tickets to a freshers' event, she made herself a cup of tea in the tiny kitchen down the corridor, sat down and closed the door.  She looked around; the bed with its' brand-new covers, the desk, the wide windowsill with the plant she had brought from home, the sink in a cupboard.  She looked out of the window, over the roof of the covered walkway, down to the lake and the geese.   Her room, that she paid for, where she could do what she wanted.  Freedom. She was looking forward to this.

 And so, ten years later, she thought back to the nervously excited eighteen-year-old who had arrived that day, and smiled.  There had been bad times- she had been lonely, had been hurt badly by people she cared about, had been disappointed and made to feel a failure- but there had been good times too, and that was what she thought about.  Spending freshers' week feeling part of the crowd for the first time in her life- even if she spent the evenings in her room listening to G&S & sewing, it was because she wanted to- The Gondoliers, her first show, making friends with people who didn't think she was weird and unlovely, making friends with people her own age who shared her faith for almost the first time, the first time she was picked to run a student society and she realised people actually thought she was good at something!  And that was just the first year.





Now, ten years since she had arrived in York as a first year history student she knew that she had never regretted that choice for a moment.  She still loved this city.

Here's to another ten years (maybe)!

Carols?

Hello again, it's been a while since there was any activity here.  But Facebook's events system is so complicated these days I thought I'd use this as a way of inviting you all to something.

On Sunday 16th December my church (St Michael le Belfrey) is holding it's annual carol service in York Minster.  It's always a great service, with carols (congregational and choral) and performances by Riding Lights theatre company.  It's also free.  So if you'd like to come to a carol service in the minster, this is your opportunity.  Oh, and did I mention I'm in the choir?

The service starts at 7pm, with doors opening at 6.30pm but I'd recommend getting there before that as there's usually a queue and the place gets quite full (there are usually screens so you can see what's going on at the front).  It's also chilly, so wrap up warm.

It would be lovely if you could come.  Let me know if you want any more info.
      

And if you're interested, here's a couple of old posts on Christmasy themes:
Journeys
The darker side of carols
Carols

And another one...

Two broadly positive posts in a week?  Never!  What, never?  Well, hardly ever...but see!

One point I'd like to add to hers is that it's not just the, to quote, 'sharey-sharey' nature of the new testament, but the care for the individual.  Jesus doesn't treat everyone the same.  People are treated according to their needs, to who they are.  For example, the man cured of leprosy (Mark 1, 40-45), a man who has been shunned and not been touched for years, is cured with a touch, and told to go and show himself to the priest so he can be accepted back into society.  The servant of a Roman centurion, a man used to commands being obeyed, is healed without Jesus needing to go near him to show that Jesus has authority, just like the centurion  (Matthew 8 5-13).  The government welfare plans, like so much government policy, are designed to reduce individuals and families' complex needs down to a siple, easy to administer formula.  Unfortunately a lot of people are likely to fall through the gaps because they have unusual or extreme needs that don't meet the formula, and low ranking officials won't have the time or the training to deal with them.  
  
It's the bishops job to tell people- and in this case the government- how to behave better, both in terms of welfare policy and perhaps in their dealings with banks.  While they have a voice in the Lords- and elsewhere, through the media- I hope they keep doing that.