Video: Spiritual retreat on Holy Island

I spent five days on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, off the north east coast of England, on retreat. I've never been on retreat before, and I decided to just take myself off to somewhere quiet and remote, pray, walk, and not set myself any goals or schedule. I could have done all sorts of guided retreats, silent retreats, or gone to retreat houses where you can get spiritual direction, but for my first time, I wanted to just give my self space to be with God, and also just have a break.

I wrote a journal, so as to keep track of my activities and musings. I've typed it out here if you want to read it, and I've also summarised my spiritual thoughts and revelations at the bottom of this post with a video of a few snippets of the experience. But you will miss the chronicle of an epic sheep drama!


Tuesday 26th April
3.20pm
Trains were all fine and the taxi driver was lovely. I've booked him to pick me up on Saturday.
Got shown round. My room is small and, like the rest of the house, plain. I am regretting not bringing my slippers. But it shouldn't be too cold. [Famous last words]
I've unpacked and just given myself an hour or so to relax and settle, just playing Tetris, listening to a podcast. I'm going to make a cup of tea.
3.55pm
Sitting in the social lounge (as opposed to the silent one) with my cup of tea, I've been getting to know an elderly couple also staying in the house and helping with the crossword whilst writing out Isaiah 61:1-3 in one of my notebooks.

4.25pm
Just finished reading over my hand written faith story and put a final sentence to end it.
5.15pm
Feeling tired, been reading. Bit like a detox period at the moment, I think.
5.50pm
Just finished evening prayer. It will be good to do it several times to get over the novelty and relax into the actual prayer.
Aiden, the founder of the monastery and school on the island, was a 'gentle Bishop', so hopefully something about his example might bring out the gentleness in my soul, if I let it, and God willing.
7.30pm
Lovely dinner of chicken leg, beautifully tender with tasty, crispy skin; perfect baked potato, soft fluffy and flavourful, almost crackling, salty skin; salad, and coleslaw.
Great conversation - there's 7 of us. Susan (50s?), Avril and Colin (70s), Betty and John (60s?), and Anne (70s) [though at this point of writing, I was still learning names!]
These old, northeast bunch of people, they're a bit of laugh. We're in the lounge, just chatting.
10pm
Just finished talking for over an hour with Colin about how to deal with differences of opinion within faith and the problems of religion, scriptural interpretation, the concept of dogma, all sorts! He prayed for me just before going to bed, and he was really positive about petitioning God that if it be God's will, that God make my path open to the priesthood. So I can't have said anything or had any attitude or manner that made him think I wouldn't be good. It was such a fun conversation.

Wednesday 27th April

7.50am
Well, it's not fun doing morning prayer whilst being able to see my breath whilst inside the church!
It's nice to be able to do it first thing. Though doing it with others, the sensory experience is of droning, not exactly uplifting. Not too bad for evening prayer, but I would hope for morning prayer to be a little more energising, even when solemn.
8.35am
I could barely concentrate on the Eucharist, I was so cold! After breakfast, I have to fill the morning. First day of challenge.
10.10am
Bit of porridge and coffee for breakfast. Bit of chat with the others, then they headed off to the house's morning prayers, at a more civilised time two hours after the parish church's. I headed out. the weather is pretty lovely, so I'm glad I'm out and about.
The key I think is being in the moment. Being just here, on this rock, watching those sheep, and the sea. This is not getting away from my life, this is still my life, God given, blessed, and God is only closer here because of the way I am here. If I could be peaceful, and quiet anywhere, God would be just as close.
11.55am
In some ways it's easier to relax somewhere unfamiliar. If you have no ties, you have no responsibility.
The island has a different feel when the tourists come. I've spent the morning doing all the visitor things - up to the castle (though not in it, not for almost ten quid!), around all the town's shops; got some fudge and indulged in a beautiful silver pendant, St Cuthbert's cross, with a garnet at the centre;

the mead/winery, had a taster, I suppose mead is quite nice, but I wouldn't have a bottle in the house; keep wanting to get a standing cross, but it would only add to the clutter on my desk, or my knick-knack shelf.
I'm currently sitting waiting for the hermit's island to clear of people. I'm not going to pay to go in the priory or museum. I did that last time I was here [whilst on holiday in Northumberland with friends, the summer after A-levels], and I got some great views of the ruins from the lookout tower, first thing after breakfast.
12.50pm
The key to enjoying the outdoors here, in April (apart from getting lucky with the weather, like I have this morning) is finding the sheltered corners. The minute the wind isn't in your face - loud, cold, messing your hair - it's idyllic.
I'm just waiting for lunch. I spent the last 45 minutes sitting on the far side of the hermit island, in the sun, out of the wind, without a single person or dwelling in view.
My thoughts wandered all over the place, and then I did indulge in reading Facebook. It was the first time in a long time that I wasn't worrying, and that was pretty blissful!
No divine inspirations yet, though.
3.45pm
Lunch was tomato soup, bread roll, cheese, biscuits, chutney and fruit. It might seem odd that I'm cataloging the food, but I'm trying to take life as a whole experience, rather than seeing certain bits are 'counting' more than others.
After dumping my morning's purchases in my room, I headed straight out. I went down to the castle, and headed round the island's coast. I'm writing this on a break, just before the last leg back into the village, having circumnavigated the whole island!
It was so wonderful, and I've been blessed that shockingly it's been blue skies and sunshine.
I sang most of the way round. I was totally alone, with an occasional sheep, so I blared out a mixture of church and Disney music.
Of course, I wasn't totally alone. God was there. I couldn't see a person, nor even any sign of humanity, just sea, sky, dunes or fields or grassland. But I wasn't alone.
I can't believe I'm sitting here worried about sun burn. I set off in teeshirt, cardigan, big hoody, zip up hoody, and winter coat. Now I'm down to shirt and cardy.
It was a good thing I brought my hiking boots. Well done me.

5.15pm
I suppose I feel a bit like I'm finally starting to set roots down. These last two decades have seen seed planted, shoots appear, small leaves come up, and shoot grow slightly into sapling. This period I'm going to say is the lengthening of roots, becoming more secure a base and reaching for resources.
5.55pm
Lord, let me be worthy to take up the mantle of shepherding your people, your church, your bride, your beloved; worthy to follow in the footsteps of so many before me who have given their lives to you and your gospel.
7.50pm
I am pooped! Barely 8pm and I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open. Dinner was lovely again. Boiled ham (amazeballs), mash, carrots and parsnips, but I didn't partake of the curly kale; followed by ginger cake with lemon sauce and sorbet.
Sitting in the living room, wondering when is polite to retire. I have less patience with the old folks natter without any energy.

Thursday 25th April
9.30am
Shower, morning prayer, Eucharist (again, too cold to concentrate), porridge and coffee, and then a bit of a rest. Yesterday was energetic, today will be calm. But it does mean I'm a little stumped on how to get going. Hopefully the day will be of prayer, contemplation, reading, and insight.
10.55am
There's basically no way of knowing if coincidence is random or contrived by God.
3.45pm
Started reading a novel I brought - looked in the front and realised that I bought it in Alnwick, just nearby, last time I was in Northumberland! It's funny how my friend recommended I buy it from the gigantic second-hand bookstore, and I've had it six years but not had the impulse to read it. Maybe it's the right time, maybe it's not that profound.
Lunch was cream of potato soup, lovely, with same sides and cheese as yesterday.
Afterwards, I popped into one of the gift shops I didn't go to yesterday, and it was good thing too. Last night I'd been getting fed up of the tiny mugs here, you know the ones, white standard that you get cheap in bulk. Serviceable but can't get a proper cuppa.
I had in mind to get a mug today, and the shop had a great selection! I got one with designs from the Lindisfarne Gospels.
I really want the pastoral assistant job I've applied for. I'm going to be bereft if I don't get it. It'll be a consolation if I get one of the other ones, but I really want the original one, the one that sparked.
It's raining at the moment - it was blessed luck that I had such fantastic weather yesterday, though I got a great picture of the castle and priory after morning prayer.

7.10pm
This afternoon, reading the Celtic midday prayer, the sentence "Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us" stood out.
Then at evening prayer, the word 'beauty' came up again, in a prayer given by the leader and I suddenly welled up with emotion as an image rose to mind - a fragile, stained glass tree, with stylised branches and leaves, thick lead lines, and red shining leaves - and I felt sure and reassured that my tree, the tree whose roots I sensed yesterday, will be beautiful.
Dinner was goats cheese and cheddar tart, with a few tomatoes, accompanied by potato wedges, beetroot, and salad with homemade mayo; followed by fresh fruit salad and cream.
10.16pm
Went to the pub tonight. Had a drink with John, and the chef after he clocked off. Have I mentioned that I'm starting to talk a little Geordie?!
Tomorrow's looking to be another indoors day. I'm hoping I'll be a little less scared to pray, and also a little more connected to the communal morning and evening prayer.

Friday 29th April

7.15am
Last day, I'm sad that I'm leaving tomorrow. Looks rainy.
10.35am
I had hoped to have a hot breakfast at the nearby cafe, but they hadn't opened by 9.30, I gave up and had a large coffee instead. I've been reading most of the morning.
I stopped to pray, and decided to use one of the exercises I had put together for my Circus Spirit talk on Sunday. I brought them with me, and thank God I did!
I chose the one that just sets out a formula for writing a prayer, and got out my, well I suppose you would call it a prayer diary, of sorts.
It's an old notebook that I used at one time to write my intercessions 3 or 4 years ago, when I first attempted the Daily Offices.
As I started to write, it was a bit of an epiphany moment. The part of prayer that scares me most is thinking my own words to God, but writing them is actually fun! It seems so obvious; I'm always writing, I blog for pity's sake, it's been a natural pastime since I learned my letters as a child.
I think it's going to really help if reincorporate my prayer diary into a routine of prayer.
4.55pm
I've spent most of the day either reading the novel, listening to podcasts, or the radio. Lunch was chicken and veg soup with the usual trimmings. I found out that I had got my wires crossed about where to get a hot breakfast, so I'll try again tomorrow.
This afternoon I also went through my copy of Daily Prayer, going through the notes and writing a summary how-to guide in the cover. I own it so I have no qualms about writing in it, in pencil mind. I also had the great pleasure of spending two hours listening to one of my favourite radio shows live, for the first time in years, because normally I listen to the podcast.
Just been in the sitting room with Betty, John, Anne and Susan (Colin and Avril left yesterday). A banana bread has appeared in the kitchen, as baked goods are wont to do here, every other day or so.
We sat talking about writing novels, cats, Supervet, The Durrells, Home Fires, and then Betty's heartbreaking childhood. Makes me so grateful that I have been blessed and extremely lucky to have a great childhood and wonderful parents.

8.00pm
Dinner was a slight disappointment. I'm not keen on fish or seafood, and it was salmon. I pleaded off having any, and piled my plate with new potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and had the white sauce with parsley. It was alright. Slightly redeemed by two portions of apple crumble and custard!
8.45pm
Just arrived at the pub. Really great folk duo, singers on fiddle and guitar. Beautiful harmonies, she's got a lovely voice, his blends well. I got in as it started to hail.
9.30pm
The third dog just left, leaving two still here. Dogs make a proper pub!
9.35pm
This is a moment of happiness. Cider, book, fire, great music, hubbub of not too many people. Not a care. Maybe a taste of heaven. Got a feel of the eternal, maybe. Music touching my soul, content and on fire.
10.20pm
Nice conversation with a Scottish couple down from Aberdeen, on a whim, for the night, sitting on my table. Actually, I sat at their table.
Do you ever feel that musical talent is inherently attractive?
10.55pm
In bed, about to say (whisper) Compline.
The sky cleared whilst I was whiling away in the pub, so that as I walked back in the crisp, clean air of an island at night (cider jacket keeping me cosy), having said thank you to the Edinburgh duo (I stayed for an extra tune when he cracked out the wooden flute, which was even better when he sang in Gaelic), I gazed up at the perfect sea of stars in the deep blue-black. Bonus of the night was reading the phrase "Jesus cockadoodle Christ!"
O, tonight was indeed rather fabulous.

Saturday 30th April
10.15am
And so it is my last morning. What a glorious morning! Woke up to beautiful sunshine, and now I'm enjoying the great outdoors on this quietly gorgeous island before heading back south.
I'm watching an unfolding drama. A very loud female sheep leading her lamb who stops very often, making mum bleat all the louder. But I'm on the lamb's side - where is she going? She's left the flock behind at this point, totally out on her own.
I'm surrounded by midges, and I'm probably going to catch the sun, again.
10.30am
Can't believe I forgot to mention I got my full English, finally! It was pretty standard, nice enough.
Group of what sound like Germans walking below me, singing.
10.45am
I have solved the sheep drama! Down behind a wall I couldn't see around before, there was another sheep and two lambs. By the reactions when finally the bellow-er and reluctant lamb reached them, one of the new lambs is the twin of the reluctant one.
OMGoodness more drama. They've all moved to the marshy bit and the friend sheep started bleating, and was replied by a fourth lamb on the other side of the water. They've all just raced round to be united; how on earth they all got scattered, heaven knows.
Heading back now, just passed the musicians from last night - he was sporting a marvelous poncho and what I can only describe as a rather suitable minstrel's hat!

11.30am
Parked up in a caf round the corner from the station. Kind of shot myself in the foot with caution. The scheduled time for the causeway to be passable [to get off the island - it's cut off from the mainland at high tide] was 11.15. It's a half hour drive to the station, but I put in some contingency time, and booked a 14.12 train, I suppose thinking I'd grab some lunch.
But because I had a large cooked breakfast at half nine, that does not appeal. So I'm going to nurse a cup of tea here long as I can, then I'll take up residence in the station waiting room.
2.45pm
Thinking of strategies for a new prayer regimen. Last plan was three reminders on my phone at 8.30am every morning - pray, reading, reflection. This meant do one session of some sort of prayer, read the Bible reading for the 'read a Bible in a year' (which I am actually keeping on top of!) and read the reflection on the CofE app.
But there was no schedule, and there couldn't be with my work being so different every day. New plan is be less strict so I don't get as guilty if I don't manage it, and mix up morning/midday/evening/night prayer between CofE and Celtic prayer, and each time I pray I read bible or reflection.
That should work, and can be adapted with different work situations. Have considered putting alarms on my phone, but don't think that'll be good.
4.30pm
Finished the novel.
6.25pm
Just an hour away from home now, so I'll try and wrap up. In some ways, I feel the same way about being on Lindisfarne as I do about being at church. I like the person I am on Lindisfarne, same as I like the person I am at church. It gives me hope that such spiritually motivated settings bring out what I feel is one best in me; maybe that's indicative that that's where I belong in my life.
I've come to terms with a few concerns I had, that were preoccupying me. Staring at the sparkling sea puts you in a useful frame of mind when contemplating tough things in life. Or maybe I was just more open to God's guiding and healing grace.
And I've already talked of my motivation for a routine of prayer. Maybe this is the spark I've been waiting for, the launchpad of the next step in my development.
God knows.

-
-

• Gentleness - if I could be peaceful and quiet elsewhere, God would be as close
• Never alone for God is there
• This period of life is deepening my roots for a secure base
• There is basically no way of knowing if coincidence is random or contrived by God
• Beauty vision - a fragile, stained glass tree, with stylised branches, thick lead lines, and red leaves - reassured that my tree will be beautiful
• Use my prayer diary to write prayers
• New strategy for prayer
• reassuring that I find spiritually and/or religiously motivated places bring out the best in me - does that indicate it's where I belong?

Video: First chat with the curate

I covered pretty much everything I wanted to say in this video, which is why it's a bit long.

Song as Worship and Prayer

I never liked singing in choirs. I tried it at senior school but I didn't like singing the high soprano part but also didn't like not singing the tune on the alto part. So I decided I didn't like choirs and protested all efforts at sixth form to get me back in.

So a few months into being at St James's Piccadilly, I had been enjoying the sung Eucharist. I had previously had a few years of singing lessons, and always privately sung musical theatre and Disney tunes in my bedroom. But it was only then, singing every week, that my love of singing reared up and made itself known as an important tool for worship, so I turned up to a choir practice. It's not really a choir - it's the Lay Singers, with no audition, or even any ability to sing or turn up, required.

Without the pressure of expectation, and with some long-time choristers to cling to as I battled to find my alto line, I got over my dislike of not singing the tune, and actually started to a) sing chorally and b) improve. I realised my voice really suits traditional church music, and the hour before the service rehearsing with the lay singers in the church hall became and still is one of the most fun parts about being at church.

I also started to appreciate how much I connected with the music spiritually. Singing the Kyrie eleison was much more evocative for me than saying it. I well up every time I sing the various heart-wrenching arrangements of the Agnes Dei. If I get a sore throat, I feel like I've had a limb cut off.

The moment that really pinned down for me the connection to God we make when we sing was on the 16th of November 2014. A few months earlier, the cantor at St James' had come to me with a proposition. She, like any other employee, had holidays, which included a number of Sunday mornings thought out the year. I had seen this in action - she booked someone else to cover her, sometimes a professional church singer, sometimes a tenor from the Lay Singers. Her proposition was that I could cantor with the tenor, as a little duo, with the intent of preparing me to do it on my own.

Yeah, just stand at the front and lead the singing *gulp*

I was thrilled and honoured by the opportunity and the responsibility, but it was also a terrifying thought. There's normally 100 people minimum in the congregation at the 11am service; it's a big church for one voice to fill without a mic; I'm only an amateur singer; and lots of regulars are likely to notice if you forget something or do it differently (ie f*ck up).

It went fine of course, and we did a little duet as the anthem over communion. The main thing I was worried about was the blocking, there's even a couple of spins the cantor has to do as part of the gospel procession, but there was no tripping or going the wrong way. Sigh of relief.

I started to do it on my own, and with more frequency, as it was easier to book me rather than an outside professional. I still got paid the fee though, which was an unexpected bonus.

I have grown to love cantoring. It's such lovely music to sing, and it's great fun singing stuff I know and can do well, loudly and proudly. But mostly, I love leading, providing something for people to use in their worship. My favourite comments are not that I sang well, but those occasions when people tell me it really helped them connect, eliciting an emotional, spiritual response.

Esmeralda also also sang to God.

I didn't have the Rose Window to inspire me, but still

So, as I mentioned, part of cantoring involves doing an anthem, a piece of music whilst the congregation is taking communion, and I can't lead a choir, so I do solos and duets.

On the 16th Nov '14, I did a solo for the first time. I was nervous, but I knew I had practised thoroughly. The organ started the introduction and I forced myself to relax, forget about the people listening, and concentrate on the music. I started singing and the familiar notes calmed me further. I realised the building's acoustics were enhancing my voice and I listened as well as sang. As I started the final verse, I was filled with a great sense of joy. I lifted up on the notes and felt like I was shining with bright light. I was singing to God, I was singing with God!

It was such a beautiful moment. My time at St James' has an interlocked path of progress for my faith and my singing. It is my favourite and greatest expression of my faith and the love of God.

And now, a kitten.

Videos: Selection Criteria

Shorter video going through Section A of the Summary of the Criteria for Selection for Ordained Ministry in the Church of England

Longer video going through Sections B through I

Reasons I think I'd make a good priest/want to be priest

(See also my post on Why I don't think I'm called to be a Lay Reader.)

This is a hard exercise. Not because I haven't thought about and have a few ideas of why I think I would suit being a priest, and I certainly know why I want to be a priest; no, I find it difficult to stop myself feeling like I'm bragging, or being attention seeking. I've said it before on this blog, it feels like saying "look at me, I'm special", and no reasoning with myself has been enough to convince me that it isn't that.

Rationally, I understand it is important for me to be able to articulate evidence for my position, defend that position. I'm not going to be attacked per se, but I will be challenged, rightly so, questioned heavily to explore my sense of calling and what it will mean for my future, in a tangible way for other people (ie the Church) so they can be sure of implementing changes in my life.

So that's what I'm going try to do. Here goes.

Why do I want to be a priest?

To quote my spiritual journal (SJ): "It seems inescapable, inevitable and wholly desirable."

I want to be able to live my life as a disciple of Christ, because I think following the good news is the way the majority of people could live their lives and move closer to the coming of the Kingdom, establishing a closer relationship with God and therefore improving life for all.

I have had a niggling suspicion that I might be ordained since my late teens, and that hasn't scared me. It's felt comforting, I've been looking forward to it. I realised at about the same time that my faith has progressed in clear steps, thoroughly, from the ground up. I've always been given an opportunity, pointed towards the next step, at exactly the moment that I have gone through and become comfortable with the last. That upward gradient naturally carries on to ordination in the future, in my judgement of the evidence.

I can't imagine life ending up any other way. I can't see myself managing to fully live my calling to be a disciple of Christ any other way. Knowing that I could put my faith in the centre of my life in an all encompassing way? That's what I want. I won't manage to live that way, the way I want, if I carry on with just a secular job. How can I best Love God, Love Neighbour? (SJ)"Doing what I think is good, standing against wrong that I encounter, preventing wrong happening. Show love, mercy and forgiveness to all those I encounter in my life." And I have no ambition in stage management, I don't want to make a career out of it. Being a priest is the right method for me to do God's work, and it's becoming obvious that it is the best choice for me.

The church services that I connect with most are the ones when I'm at the front. I'm the cantor, or I'm a server. I'm an active role in the worship, and able to be part of the team that provides the service for others to use as worship.

Why do I want to be a priest? Stories. They are the essence of life, at least in my understanding of it. I love telling them, reading them, watching them, living my own story, being part of other people's, listening to others tell their own or another's, facilitating the telling of them. My holy scripture is in a narrative form - that's the story I want to share and blend into my own. "In church we don't just tell the story [of the Passion], we live it together day by day by eating and drinking together in this Eucharist" (I'm quoting this sermon by my rector).

What am I passionate about? Doing the right thing. Being a good person and showing others they should too for many reasons, but ultimately in response to the universe and the love of God that permeates every place and moment in spacetime. That's what the story tells me.

And to quote my spiritual journal again: "I want to serve, devote my life to God's will and God's people, spreading the story, and bettering the world in the aspiration for the kingdom of God."

Why do I think I'd be a good priest?

When I first got an inkling of a call, I would not have made a good priest. I was proud, blunt, inconsiderate, only just reconnecting with others after years of loneliness, quick to take offence and slow to forgive.

But the core parts of me were appropriate; there was groundwork for a holy life. I've always been passionate, and focused. I have a strong confidence that I think comes from a bedrock of trust in God, and a positive outlook on life. When I commit, I'm dedicated, and even back then I would go the extra mile for projects or for other people. I've always felt an intense connection with love, though at the time, hormones influenced where I focused my energies! Eros was my idol for a while, I will admit that; I was not immune to the angst of the teen years.

But in the years since, I have grown into a stronger sense of agape. As I've written before, I committed to self-improvement when I realised I was not coming across in a particularly universally liked way, so I learnt patience, forgiveness, greater consideration, grew a thicker skin and calmed down my rather aggressive style. I refuse to hold grudges or stop giving people chances. I'm now a good listener for example, I have been told a number of times since; I genuinely enjoy hearing people talk and gaging how to respond to them. Doing stage management has been a training ground for ministry, for sure. There is change, pressure and stress, with a need for balance and flexibility (I'm paraphrasing the Summary of Criteria) in all that stage management do, and I have been developing the skills for just that. Now I'm the one on the team who takes joy from what I can, big or small, and shares that with others.

I think a gift I can bring is helping others see the sacred in the secular. And it might sound illogical if I can't claim to manage to do so in my own life, but helping others is an overall theme I want in my life, and however odd it seems, that feels like part of that theme. You'll see in my profile that "I feel like a good word to sum up who I am and what I do is 'Facilitator'" and I stand by that as supporting my opinion that I would make a good priest.

If I look at the 'official gifts', I'd say my top 3 are mercy, faith and hospitality, with also discipleship and possibly a little wisdom. I feel able to say I have integrity, and an innate honesty. My natural abilities are confidence, love, generosity, and focus. I'm a very good confidant. 

It baffles me that people can act maliciously for their own purposes - the idea of manipulating a situation for my own gain as the primary motivation never occurs to me. Lying is basically out of the question, and breaking the rules has to come from a very strong understanding of how fundamentally wrong the rules are. 

Why do I think I'd be a good priest? Because I'm a good stage manager. Because I want to, including being open to learn, change and improve. I suppose because I'm meant to - I trust God has given me the gifts to answer this call faithfully, that doing so to best of my abilities will be enough. Because I can love, and lead, and comfort, and help. Because I love the church. Because I want to put my relationship with God first. Because I want to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth. Because I think it is a job and a life that I would enjoy, love doing and being, and be good at.

The last two years before the start of this blog

I can't believe I have a personal connection with a
globally recognised British landmark!

I got confirmed into the Church of England on Easter Saturday, March 30th 2013, at St Paul's Cathedral, London, by the Bishop of London, The Rt Revd and Rt Hon Richard Chartres. (see previous blog for my journey before then.)

In preparation for my confirmation, I didn't have the schedule to be able to fit in conventional classes with the other candidates in a regular slot each week, so I had one-on-one sessions with the rector, and she gave me the homework. Thus started my spiritual journal, a little green leather bound notebook that lives in my handbag for any moment I feel the need to put my thoughts about all things religious and spiritual onto paper.

This was another tool in my religious arsenal and is still an essential part of my relationship with God. Since the confirmation homework, I've had arguments with myself within its pages, taken notes during talks or sermons or from books, questioned God, there's a section where I clarified for myself what I thought about "Me, Christ and casual sex" - it's basically the place I can do extempore prayer. For me personally, I have to write it, rather than think or say it, otherwise I use structured prayer. But I've been historically terrible at getting into the habit of things like morning prayer as well!

After my confirmation, I carried on my involvement at my church St James' Piccadilly, helping where I could around my degree course in stage management, and in the last year, around my career as a freelance deputy stage manager.

It was easier at college, as we never worked on a Sunday, and Christmas/Easter time was school holidays. But the slow dawning of how important church was becoming to me was highlighted at Easter in my third year, a year after my confirmation.

I was invited to join my friend on his uni's Alpine Club annual trip to the Isle of Skye. I won't regret going, it was a glorious experience, with some wonderful people, and I climbed my first Munro, but it was over Holy Week. I left on the Saturday before, and returned late on Easter Saturday, so I missed Palm Sunday through the Easter Vigil, turning up exhausted for the 11am service on Easter Sunday, and got a surprise.

Easter morning is better than Christmas, it really is. The joy and excitement is just explosive; St James' decorates the beautiful wood/stone interior with greenery, and puts out its gold plate; at least three members of the congregation will be handing out small chocolate eggs; there's professional singers backing up the choir so it sounds loud and angelic; everyone is happy, wishing each other 'Happy Easter!" with hugs and grins, and every hymn and sung response feels alive.

Easter Day 2014, I just couldn't get into the spirit of things. Without the build up of Holy Week - processing around the church with a real donkey, singing 5 part harmonies for the tourists on Piccadilly on Palm Sunday; the sacred space of The Three Hours on Good Friday, noon til 3 with music, readings, meditations and silence, contemplating the Cross; going to St Paul's for the majestic evening service followed by going to St James' for supper; sleeping in the nave, taking an hour to maintain the vigil in the candlelit side chapel; waking early to go into the grey dawn garden and take the first Eucharist of Easter with bread baked the previous night; processing with song into the church to the font; crying at the beauty of the rector singing the Exsultet; walking down to Piccadilly Circus with drums and whistles and bells, handing out chocolate eggs; returning to church for a cooked breakfast and a break before choir practice - without all that as run up, I was emotionally at just another service, and could not tap into the feeling all around me.

I was gutted. As I said, I'm not going to regret going on the trip, but it taught me just how much being able to connect to my faith through church had become important to me.

I've had various other frustrations over the last year, like I couldn't go to the Three Hours again, and that was a factor is a decision I made in the summer. I had been writing in the journal whenever the moment suited me, but in a bid to always have something I felt addressed my personal faith, as well as going to church in my community faith, I set myself the challenge of writing just two of its small pages every week, collecting my thoughts about the Sunday I had had. First entry 2nd August 2015, 9th Sunday after Trinity

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But, you'll cry, you haven't mentioned your calling yet! It's there in those pages back in August - when did you get the call? Isn't that the POINT of this blog??

All will be answered in my next post! My storytelling instincts have led me to first set the scene, establish the background, the bones on which the true flesh of this project will be built. The little I know of the discernment process is that it understandably personal; the church cannot assess my calling unless they can get to know me. Who am I? Hopefully I've answered the relevant basics of that question in this and my last post, at least as in depth as necessary for this blog.

Coming next will be a meaty dissection of...THE CALL.

God bless