The Vicarage currently smells faintly of paint and new carpet. Not unpleasant, just… new. I actually quite like the smell.
After twelve years the place has had a bit of a freshen-up. We’re not finished yet, but gone are the mucky handprints on the walls and doors, and we have soft flooring underfoot once again. A house made ready to welcome people. A space that feels fresh and clean again.
There’s something satisfying about that sort of work: practical, visible, complete. You paint a wall, and it stays painted. You lay a carpet, and (assuming no one spills coffee) it stays in place for years to come.
But I’ve been thinking about how even domestic projects can be holy ones. Because to repaint and re-carpet a Vicarage is not just about décor. It’s about creating space: space for conversation, prayer, hospitality, laughter, tears, cake. It’s about preparing the ground. Making room for something (or someone) new.
And perhaps that’s timely.
By the time you read this, I, my wife, and friends will probably have finished Offa’s Dyke: the 177 miles walking route from the Severn Estuary to the Irish Sea. A coast-to-coast path across the Welsh borderlands, winding up hills, through woods, over stiles, and into whatever weather June decides to throw at us (we start walking on Thursday 15th May).
It’s not advertised as a pilgrimage, but it will be one for me. A journey not just through landscape, but into reflection, because walking does that for me. It slows the mind. It sorts the soul. You start off thinking about your boots rubbing, and end up thinking about the people or situations on your heart.
I’m walking with good friends, and we’ll share plenty of banter, snacks, and the occasional muttered complaint about sore feet and knees. But there’ll be silence too. That deep, companionable kind of quiet that only seems to settle in when you’re side by side for hours. God can permeate through those gaps if we are open to it.
I hope the journey will refresh my soul. It has been a really busy first half of the year and my brain is buzzing, trying to keep up with the demands without forgetting things. I hope I’ll return not just a little footsore, but a little more grounded. A little more present.
And maybe that’s a good posture for this moment in the Church too.
A new Pope has recently been elected (or at least he has at the time of writing). A new voice for the global church. There’s something compelling about watching this historic moment unfold and I find myself hopeful. From what we know so far, he seems to be a man of simplicity and kindness. A Pope who wears walking shoes. Who listens before he speaks. Who, I suspect, understands the value of both pilgrimage and paint: that if the Church is to be renewed, it will be by walking with people, not over them (as some leaders believe), and by attending to the ordinary details of love, hospitality, and hope.
Leadership, in the best sense, is about making space for others to shine. And that’s something I think we can all take to heart, whether we’re popes or pew-fillers, parents or priests.
Of course, we are also entering a time of discernment here in the Church of England as we await the appointment of a new Archbishop of Canterbury. Please do keep praying, for those involved in the decision, and for whoever will be called to take up that calling. We need leaders who walk humbly, speak truthfully, love generously and above all are rooted in prayer.
So, wherever June finds you, whether decorating, travelling, praying, or just plodding along through your own patch of life, I pray that something in you finds renewal too.
And if you’re wondering what colour we chose for the Vicarage walls, it’s mostly Natural Hessian, with Olive Green carpets to warm things up beneath our feet.
You’re welcome to call for a cuppa if you would like.
Until next time, God bless,
Darryl.