Next weekend I am doing a wedding in a small chapel in the village I used to live in. The chapel is very beautiful and is almost on the coastal path...so this morning I went to look at it again wondering where would be the best place to park in the height of the summer !
Walking through the village I met several people I knew. Lots of hugs and kisses were exchanged but as I walked I realised that the village was full of ghosts....so many memories, so many people not living any more...
I explained to one of the ladies in the chapel that the place was very important to me...
Long before I lived there I had always taken my holidays there with the first David. Sometimes we went to the chapel, sometimes to the Anglican Church. One Christmas I was very subdued....my Grandson had had meningitis and although he survived it had left him profoundly deaf.
I had been unable to sing for months but we decided to go to the Carol service in the chapel...and it was there I got my voice back...I realised that for the first time for over a year I was using my whole voice to take part in the singing.
When my first husband died very suddenly this was the village that put its collective arms around me during the aftermath...
The tiny chapel is now used as a retreat with coffee and comfy armchairs...next weekend it will be filled with many of the young people I know well....
I have been a visitor there for nearly forty years...I knew their grandparents in some cases...And as I walk I greet the ghosts with gladness.
I can only give heart felt thanks for this wonderful gift...thank you God.
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