Old photos

Having found an old photograph frame in a drawer yesterday I set out to find some old photos. I have quite a collection acquired over the years...but it’s been some time since I looked at them.
Many are of the time we spent in North Wales with winters filled with lots of snow.
I looked through the photos from before we moved south with some affection... was I ever quite so young?
Apart from the ones of me and my first husband David climbing the local mountain, digging cars out of heaped up snow and going on holidays to exotic places like Cornwall , one particular piece of bent, scratched paper stopped me dead in my tracks.
It was a church. Not just any old church...it was a church we had all loved and visited whilst on holiday .
I looked at it for quite a long time.
It sits on a creek about a mile away from where I now live. The church of St Just.
The church I have taken services at, married people in and christened their babies with the water from the holy spring which I was standing next to in the old photograph.
Gosh...I’d forgotten how precious that church had been to us all so long ago, long before I came to live here and before I became a priest.
God moves in a mysterious way. I’m only sorry the first David hadn’t lived to see it.
But he wouldn’t have believed the sight of me in a dog collar anyway....that I do know!

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