by Chrys Cymri
‘What about today?’ I asked, reaching my conclusion. ‘We live in a society in which some people argue that believing in God is a silly fantasy. As silly and immature, perhaps, as believing in dragons, or unicorns, or the Fair Folk. But sometimes we can relate better to God as something other than a father, or even as a man. For those who’ve had abusive or absent fathers, God can seem threatening or remote. For those who have been hurt by men, Jesus as a man can be difficult to relate to. So I see nothing wrong with us imagining Jesus as, say, Aslan, the Lion from C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia novels. Or even as a unicorn. The horn of the unicorn carries the gift of healing, and Christ longs to heal each one of us with his love. Let that gift of healing touch you where you need it most. Amen.’
The Creed followed, the prayers, the Peace, and I moved to the altar during the next hymn to celebrate Communion. The words I’ve spoken, Sunday by Sunday for over twelve years, carried me past my concerns about dragons and sermons, and the continued lack of children at the service. Once again I felt privileged to be placing the wafers into the hands of those who knelt at the altar rail. For over eight hundred years people from the village of Beckeridge had come to this church, and I felt lifted by the centuries of faithful worship.
The last hymn was sung. I blessed and dismissed the congregation, and went to the vestry to change. The small oak box which held Alan’s ashes stared at me from the window, and I changed in a hurry. I had become tired of having my husband’s ashes in the house, so now he could only accuse me of neglect every Sunday rather than every day.
I exited to the smell of coffee wafting from the back corner. Real coffee, not instant. A previous vicar had insisted on it. He had hoped it would bring in new worshippers from the housing estates which now linked Beckeridge with Northampton. No such luck. The congregation still only consisted of villagers.
I collected my mug and wandered from conversation to conversation. Information about a member currently in hospital. A request to talk to a daughter about baptising a new addition to the family. A grump about the flower rota. The churchwarden providing a quick update about the repairs to the churchyard wall. I nodded, tapped notes into my iPhone, and made various promises.
One of the older members of the congregation was seated in a comfortable chair in the children’s area. The woman gave me a smile, and I drifted over. ‘And how are you, Margaret?’
‘Oh, mustn’t grumble, mustn’t grumble,’ Margaret replied. Her wrinkled hands gripped her walking stick as she rose to her feet. ‘Just wanted to say, good sermon, Vicar.’
I smiled at the phrase. ‘Glad you liked it.’
‘Yes. I’ll tell Bishop Nigel that I did.’ And Margaret gave me a wink.
I froze. Margaret? Who had lived in Beckeridge all her life? Who had been baptised, confirmed, and married in St Wulfram’s, and would one day have her funeral here? Margaret?
‘Good sermon,’ the woman said again. And I noticed, for the first time, that the silver top of her stick was in the shape of a slumbering dragon. ‘About time we had a woman as Vicar General. I’ll be praying for you.’
I watched Margaret shuffle out of the church. And a shiver went down my back as I wondered whether coming to serve at vicar in Beckeridge had been a coincidence. For just how long had the diocese been keeping an eye on me?
<><><><><><>
Want to read more? Go to my website for buy links:
http://chryscymri.com/books.html
Go to my website, www.chryscymri.com and get a free exclusive short story by signing up to my newsletter list. Click below:
Sign me up!
About the Author
Priest by day, writer at odd times of the day and night, I live with a small green parrot because the upkeep for a dragon is beyond my current budget. Plus I’m responsible for making good any flame damage to church property. I love ‘Doctor Who’, landscape photography, single malt whisky, and my job, in no particular order. When I’m not looking after a small parish church in the Midlands (England), I like to go on far flung adventures to places like Peru, New Zealand, and the Arctic.
Discover other titles by Chrys Cymri
Dragons Can Only Rust
Dragon Reforged
The Dragon Throne
The Unicorn Throne
The Judas Disciple
The Temptation of Dragons (Penny White 1)
The Cult of Unicorns (Penny White 2)
The Marriage of Gryphons (Penny White 3)
The Vengeance of Snails (Penny White 4)
The Vexation of Vampires (Penny White 5)
Connect with Me:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chryscymri?fref=ts
My website: http://www.chryscymri.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1076161.Chrys_Cymri