Dear Friends

As I write this, we are just about to begin the run up to the Christmas season, and by the time you read it we will be in Advent. These will be my last Advent and Christmas as Vicar here, or indeed anywhere. I hope in time to help out taking services in the deanery, but that will not be possible in parishes where I have served as Vicar. And anyway, taking services is not quite the same as being Vicar, with the responsibility of “cure of souls” that this entails.

Although I have always had strong links with Methodism, this Anglican notion of “the cure of souls” has always been central to my sense of vocation, and my call to ordination as an Anglican priest. As a Vicar, I am not only there for the people who attend church, or even for those who come to events that we put on. I have a responsibility for every single person living in the parish, whatever their age, whatever they may have done, whatever faith they may or may not have. That is not only a responsibility but also a huge privilege.

I know that I have not always got things right. I know that I will have failed many people in many ways, and perhaps not lived up to your idea of what a Vicar should be, but I genuinely feel a great warmth for my parishes and for their people. When I first arrived here, one of my cats went missing and I was out calling for him anxiously. A local family got talking to me, and a few minutes later their little daughter came to find me and gave me a stone. She could see I was sad, and wanted to find a way to make me feel better. I have always kept and treasured that stone, because it says something about relationships and about ministering to one another. Sometimes when someone is sad, we can’t actually give them what they need – she couldn’t find my cat for me (although thankfully he did turn up later.) But what we can do is to show people that we feel for them, care about what they are going through. And, of course, that goes for the happy times as well as the sad times. Over the years I have been alongside families in times of joy like weddings and baptisms, and in times of sadness, like illness and bereavement. As the Vicar, I have had the privilege of playing a formal role in such events, but the biggest privilege is simply to be alongside people.

I am asked quite frequently if they have found my replacement yet. Sadly, for those of you who are not aware of this, the Church of England does not work like this. There will be a gap, a “pastoral vacancy” as it is called, for some time. These gaps can be over two years, and we do not know how long ours will be. Of course that will present challenges, even though we will have our wonderful curate Gordon to help out for at least the early part of the vacancy. But I do not think “pastoral vacancy” is a good term, because so much of the pastoring, of the ministry of the church, is carried out not only by the priest, but by the lay people. I have every confidence in the church members that they will for on caring for people and getting alongside them. And I also have every confidence in the PCC and Wardens, that they will continue to lead the church in the shared vision. Please offer them your care and support as they do this – like the stone that the little girl gave me. That will make all the difference.

This is my last magazine article, but you will still see me in action for the next couple of months and I am sure I will see many of you at the Christmas events. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Lissa Scott