25 years on...

Well today marks 25 years since the first woman was ordained priest in the Church of England. 25 years. In some ways that seems like a long time. But also I kind of want to go "25? TWENTY FIVE?!" How is that all?!

I remember hearing on the news the day the vote had gone through General Synod. It's amazing now, being on General Synod myself, and sitting in the chamber imagining what it must have felt like on that day, as people literally got up and walked through marked doors to indicate the way they wanted to vote. (These days we have little handheld Blackberry-like devices, which is far less exciting and, as far as I can see, leaves far more opportunities for making a mistake!).

I also remember this day, the day when the first women were ordained. Women who had fought and campaigned and prayed and hoped and dreamed and just... waited. Because there was nothing else to do. Today I honour them for their gracious struggle.

I was 15 on that day, and just beginning to make big decisions about my own future. I wanted to be a speech and language therapist. I had become a Christian 3 years earlier, but I'd never seen a woman in any sort of church leadership role (I'd also never really met a Christian under the age of 50, but that's another story!). I remember the ordinations happening. I watched the coverage on the news. Today social media would have been alive with it all, but then we just waited for the 6 o'clock news to tell us what was happening in the world. I remember being excited, because this was A Good Thing For Women, but of course I couldn't have dreamt of what it would mean for my life. I also don't think I realised the struggle that lay ahead around the issue of women as Bishops.

Fast forward 5 years and I was indeed at Uni training to be a Speech and Language Therapist. I was part of St. George's Church Leeds, and I will forever be grateful to God for leading me there and for all the wonderful people who were such an important part of my journey. Suddenly I began to sense a call to ordained ministry. I was utterly bewildered by it! I couldn't possibly imagine myself as a priest, and yet at the same time I was utterly and completely sure that this was a call of God.

I did all the discernment things that you have to do. I completed my Uni course and qualified as an SLT. I worked for a year (and loved it, and was so sad to give it up). And then I spent a year as a pastoral assistant (an intern before church interns were a thing) at St. George's. I think I hoped I would hate it and be rubbish at it and I could just go quietly back to my normal life. But of course I loved it, and it was just 'right' and all the CofE bods miraculously, inexplicably, said yes. And off I went to college for the most amazing 3 years.

And here I am today. I went to college at 24, was ordained at 27, and started my first incumbency at 30. Now I'm 40, 18 months into my second incumbency, after almost 14 years of ordination. What a joy it has been. What a privilege it continues to be. How grateful I am to God for this calling and this journey.

I couldn't have imagined, at 15, or at 20, or at 24, or 27, or 30, where the CofE would find itself today. These days people rarely express surprise when they meet me. I don't hear as many "I've never met a woman priest before" comments as I used to. But then I've been fortunate to spend all of my ordained life in Liverpool, where they're a welcoming, friendly, hilarious people. I pretty much knew it would be ok when, a whole 3 days into being ordained deacon, I was walking down the road to church, wearing a pink clerical shirt, and someone called out (entirely sincerely) "morning Father!"

Today there are 18 Bishops-who-happen-to-be-women in the CofE (and the best part of that is that I had to google it to check - we're at the glorious stage where there are too many to easily keep count of!). It's slightly baffling that almost all of them seem to be married to male clergy, but that's an interesting conversation for another day...

In this past year alone I have been to the consecration of 2 dear women who are now superb Bishops. I had the joy of preaching at one, and a woman Bishop preached at the other. Gosh if my 15 year old self could have imagined the day when a woman would preach as women were consecrated Bishop!

Many women before me went through unimaginable pain and struggle to get to the point where we now are. I am fortunate to have not had to struggle. I've faced sexism, of course I have, and there have been tough times. As a young woman at a diocesan discernment interview I was asked whether I would be getting married and having children because "they all end up having time off, these women." I've been called a "dolly bird" and people have commented on my hair, my clothes, my make up, my weight, my shoes, my nail varnish. I've had countless men leer at me and say "cor, if all vicars looked like you I'd still go to church." I've experienced plenty of "that's a great point Miss Wharton, now I wonder whether one of the men would like to make it" meetings. I've been referred to as vicaress and priestess, and asked "are you that lady vicar" more times than I can count. But far more than that I've had people tell me how much they have appreciated the ministry of women, and how glad they are to have met women as priests.

For me this isn't about those who, in all conscience, cannot accept my ministry. I recognise their theological viewpoint and I honour and respect it, and hope that they too will honour and respect me and mine (as the vast majority of them do). I believe firmly in their right to hold that viewpoint, and I'm grateful for those I know and love who are doing great ministry.

On Thursday I will lead a seminar (at one of the New Wine Leadership Conferences), along with 2 fabulous women, Lizzy and Nikki, entitled "breaking the glass ceiling" where we'll look at some of the barriers that still exist for women in senior roles within the CofE. I'm excited to do that, and to see so many women around me flourish as they step out into being who God has called them to be. It's a particular joy for me that this seminar will take place in St. George's Leeds.

So today, on this anniversary, I rejoice for the 25 years that have passed and for the incredible kingdom work which has been done and continues to be done by priests-who-happen-to-be-women. I look forward to the day when the word 'woman' never appears before priest, not because we don't exist, but because it is so utterly unremarkable. For now, though, we carry on. We lead services, we preach the word, we baptise, we bury, we marry. We work with children and young people. We visit the sick and dying. We work in the community. We feed the hungry and care for the poor. We climb ladders and  hoover floors and move chairs and make tea. We preside at the holy table. We share the good news. We live our lives. We love Jesus. We go where he sends us.

And I long for the day when this is unremarkable. Because just a few weeks ago I was talking to someone whose church is currently in a vacancy. And they told me of a conversation (with a woman!) who had said "I hope we don't get a woman vicar this time, because you know, we had that woman before, and she wasn't any good." And I want to weep. Because until women vicars are allowed to just sometimes be bad, without it affecting the future of all other women, then we still have some way to go.

Here's a photo of me from my ordination as priest (main observation: being a vicar has given me grey hair!):

Book review - Sustaining Leadership

This is a wildly and hopelessly overdue blog! I read this wonderful book ages ago, and promised to review it here, but never got round to it. And be assured that the irony of not being able to find time to review a book about developing and maintaining healthy patterns of life and work is in no way lost on me...

The book is written by Paul Swann, and its subtitle is 'You are more important than your ministry.' A reasonable enough statement, you'd think, except that so many of us seem to forget this at one time or another, as we fall into the trap of believing ourselves to be indispensable, and allow our diaries, our ministries and our pressures define us.

Paul Swann speaks from very personal, and very difficult, experience. In 2005 he experienced a period of illness and fatigue which resulted in 4 years of trying to manage his health and ministry, before he decided completely to step back from his full time role. Out of that experience, and the ways in which he has since sought to rebuild and rebalance his life, he shares much insight and wisdom which every one of us in any sort of 'ministry' role would do well to heed.

This book is really superb, and an absolute must read. It's easy to read in the sense of being clear and well written, with short chapters, but certainly not in the sense of being without substance. I sense that it's a book I will return to time and time again throughout the course of my ministry, when I need to be reminded of the nuggets it contains.

On the first page of the Introduction comes a quote that I know I need to keep front and centre of my mind (from Parker Palmer): "Self-care is never a selfish act - it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others."

I know I have found a book enormously helpful when I highlight something on almost every page - and my copy of Sustaining Leadership is already well thumbed and with many yellow highlights!

In Part 1, entitled 'Disintegration' Paul outlines his own story "Arriving on Planet Fragile." I read it knowing it could easily have been me or any one of us. He is honest about his own personal and painful experiences, and the devastating impact they had upon him.

In Part 2, 'Reintegration' Paul describes how he began to recover, and gives a wealth of invaluable advice about self care, what healthy and unhealthy patterns of ministry might look like, and how we can find the right balance of all the competing demands and priorities within our lives.

I often say that the thing I find most frustrating about my job as a vicar

(which I love almost all of, almost all of the time), is that it is simply never finished. There is always something more which could or should be done. Paul speaks to this when he writes "From where will you get your permission to stop? It will not come from completing a job that has no ending, from receiving affirmation that seldom comes or from a hierarchical permission that rarely exists. Instead, it will have to come from the self-love and self-care of which we have spoken, augmented by obedience to the fourth commandment, which is our permission to rest." I'm seriously considering getting that tattooed on my person, or at the very least stuck on the door of my study!

Part 3 is called 'Holding on to Hope.' This reminds us of why we ultimately do what we do, and in whose strength we do it.

I really enjoyed the way this book is written. It is very practical, and actively encourages the reader to engage with the content rather than just to read the words. Throughout the book there are grey boxes where questions are asked which invite us to pause and reflect.

This book is immensely real and honest, with just the right level of challenge - having gone through such a difficult period in his own life, Paul very much wants to make sure that others don't have to go through the same thing.

This book is wonderful and important - a definite must read for anyone involved in any kind of leadership or ministry. The future you will be glad you read this book now!

As Paul says in the Introduction: "Sustaining Leadership is not a book about what to do as a leader. It is a book about how to be as a leader."

I'm finding moving a bit moving...!

Well once again it has been a stupidly long time since I blogged. Sorry about that... Usual resolutions re blogging more often have been made. But don't hold your breath!

The thing that's occupying most of my brain space at the moment is that I'm about to move house! Aaaaaaaaargh, etc. Exactly 2 weeks from today all my worldly goods will be packed up in a van somewhere and I'll be on the cusp of the most mammoth box-unpacking gig imaginable. Well, not quite the most mammoth - my friend's just become a Bishop. Moving into a Bishop-pad involves some serious unpacking!

Anyway it's not just moving house that I'm thinking about - although goodness knows that's stressful enough in its own right, especially when it goes hand-in-hand with moving job/church too. I'm particularly thinking about moving house on your own. And, obviously, as someone who's single, I do an awful lot of things 'on my own'. That's not a complaint, at least not necessarily, but it is certainly an observation.

Because of all the usual work/life/time pressures, I've been trying to squeeze lots of jobs into a too-short time frame. As you do. Saturday afternoon saw me in a mad dash to get to the carpet shop before it closed (after being blocked into my garage by a wedding guest and then getting stuck in football traffic). Consequently I chose carpets for 4 of the new vicarage bedrooms in precisely 8 minutes. I was delighted to find they could fit them within the week. Then on Tuesday I went to buy a new sofa, and again made a surprisingly speedy choice - only to find it'll be 5 weeks before it's delivered. Oops. Apparently I need to have made that purchase a month ago.

The new church have been completely wonderful in helping me to get ready for the move. They have done a quite extraordinary amount of work, and have somehow managed to paint every single wall in the entire vicarage, and to clean it from top to bottom. I'm very grateful. So my reflections on doing a house move as a single person are not particularly about the practical aspects - although if they hadn't been so wonderfully kind and helpful then that would definitely have been a complication to add into the mix.

No, my reflections on it all have been more to do with the emotional side of things. To be honest I've been surprised at how emotional I have found it all. I didn't think I was all that house proud, or all that bothered about the material 'stuff' of life (and it's not long after setting foot in my house that you realise I'm definitely not all that bothered about keeping things clean and tidy!) But as I've pondered everything from paint colours to sofa fabrics to curtain lengths to carpet thicknesses to fridge freezer size I've just found it all a bit overwhelming. There have been So Many decisions to make!

Now, please don't misunderstand me. I realise this comes very firmly into the category of #FirstWorldProblems. Please don't hear me as being ungrateful - I absolutely realise and appreciate just how blessed I am to have a home to live in at all, and especially one so lovely. I am fortunate to be able to make these choices - I know that such choices are a luxury that many cannot afford.

However, my thoughts and reflections here are simply about how it has felt to do all of that stuff on my own. I have a couple of lovely friends who have kindly offered to come and look round with me, and offer advice. But they haven't been able to come yet, and won't now, I guess, until I've moved in. So all of the decisions have fallen to me. Those of you who have ever argued with a partner over a colour scheme or a piece of furniture may by now be yelling "lucky you - I'd love to have the final say on all things decor-related!" And yes, I'm sure there are massive advantages to not having to check with anyone else before deciding on an orange colour scheme for my new bedroom!

I'm really not moaning, I promise. But I am pondering. Pondering how it feels to have to make all of your major life choices alone (you know what I mean when I say alone - God is always my Guide, Advisor, Counsellor and Friend - but, humanly speaking, alone).

In one way, there's huge freedom in it, of course, and that's wonderful. But I realise I also have a fear of getting it wrong - that's mad, isn't it, because what does decorating your house 'wrong' even look like?! I feel like I'm not quite grown up (and that's also a mad thing to feel, when this is the last year my age will begin with a 3!). In the sofa shop the guy was trying to sell me extra cover in case things get spilt on it. He was talking about pets and husbands and children. I had to clamp my mouth closed to stop myself from confessing to not having any of those things (don't get me wrong, I have parishioners who can make a mess, and a penchant for chucking soup on myself - I could do with the insurance cover). I feel like I did as a kid trying to choose which sweets I wanted and it all just being ridiculously overwhelming and wishing someone would just hand me a packet, any packet. Standing in the carpet shop, and the sofa shop, and looking online at curtains, I just really would have liked there to be someone else there to say "what do you think about this one?" (And I know there are friends I could have asked to go with me, but sorry guys, I love you, but it's not the same!)

And gosh, this is all before I've got to the new place and have to work out where to put everything!! Aaaaaaaaargh, etc. all over again! My friend recently moved house and tweeted that she was picking up each ornament and wandering around the house whispering to it, asking it where it wanted to live. It might take a while, but in the absence of another human person to consult with, this is the approach I intend to adopt with all my belongings.

I know they say moving house is high up on the list of the most stressful things you can do. Moving jobs must be up there too, so vicars have a permanent stress-double-whammy going on when we move. Anyway, as so often when I blog, I feel like this is more of a journal-entry-reflection that I happen to have shared with the world (maybe that's all that blogging ever is?!) Thanks for reading, if you've got this far. Maybe share some of your moving house/decor decisions stories with me if you like?

Here's a photo of the new garden. It's beautiful, although I do fear it may never look this good again, as I am a genuinely terrible gardener...

Who am I when I'm not busy?

Somehow I find myself over halfway through my 4 month sabbatical. Gosh. Not sure how that happened. I honestly do appreciate how lucky I am to be able to take a sabbatical, and that lots of people in lots of jobs aren't able to do so. Lots of things about it have been truly wonderful. I've never had so much sleep, for one thing! I've read squillions of books. There's a lot to reflect on, and several more blogs to come, I'm sure.

But the thing that I've been thinking about over this past week in particular is this - Who am I when I'm not busy?

Busyness is such a feature of modern life, isn't it? There probably aren't many people around who would say "no, I'm not busy, I haven't got much to do really." And I wonder whether in fact the people who might say that would wish it were not true - for example, is not-busyness generally as a result of being unemployed, or lonely, or in some sort of situation that we would hope not to be in?

For most of us, though, busyness seems to simply be a feature of modern life. Reading through friends' social media posts I see again and again phrases like "I don't have enough time," "I have too much to do," "I'm never going to get everything done." People are rushing between this and that, always in a hurry, never stopping. Adverts assume that we're all busy, and talk about how certain gadgets or devices can save us time and make our lives easier.

Sometimes our busyness becomes a badge of honour, something to boast about - "I'm busier than you!" It's like it's a competition!

Christmas is probably the worst time of year for this. "THERE'S JUST SO MUCH TO DO!" we frantically exclaim. We meet ourselves running around in circles as we try to do all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, buying, planning.

It's easy to get seriously passive aggressive when in a conversation about busyness - "oh, you've decorated your tree and bought all your presents and sent 200 cards and made 3 home made Christmas cakes? Well, good for you. Personally I just haven't had time to do all that. I've been far too busy." (The thing that has kept me mysteriously too busy is left unstated - it is enough for you to know that I am much busier, and by implication much more important, than you are.)

Vicars are terrible for it, let me tell you! Clergy meetings in the run up to Christmas can just become one big opportunity to show off about how many carol services and home communions you've taken and to look down on anyone who hasn't done as many, and secretly wonder why they aren't working hard enough!

It's not just clergy though, and it's not just Christmas. For all of us, at least in today's Western society, busyness feels like some sort of disease. It's a cliché, but it really is a bit like a treadmill or a hamster wheel - and once you're on it, it's impossible to get off.

Now if you've been reading this far and hoping that at some point I'm going to give you The Answer and explain how you can stop being busy and live a calm and peaceful life forever more then I'm afraid you're about to be disappointed! This is just something I'm wondering about and reflecting on myself. Why is it that our society seems so much to value busyness? Why is it that we so often feel guilty if we're not working "hard enough," or when we take some time off to do nothing? Why is it that were so bound by to-do lists?

As a Christian, for me the principle of Sabbath is important. I believe in having a day of rest each week.  For fairly obvious reasons, for me that isn't Sunday! (Any comments about that being the only day I work will be deleted!!) Friday is my day off. I try not to spend all of it doing chores! I try to do something fun, relaxing, life giving, joy bringing. My favourite thing is to spend time with friends on my day off, going for a walk, having a meal, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

But simply taking each Friday off isn't enough. That doesn't mean that from Saturday morning until Thursday evening I should work flat out to cram everything in, never stopping, never pausing, never doing anything 'not work' (although I'm ashamed to say there have been a few weeks that have looked and felt like that!)

And then, suddenly, here is this sabbatical this extended 'sabbath' of four whole months! In Liverpool Diocese, this is meant to be three months of 'study leave' and a month of holiday. So what should that actually look like? The holiday part is fine - I'm good at that! There's been a week in Wales, some sightseeing in New York and Washington DC, and next week a road trip is planned! But what about the 'work' time - what should that look like? I mentioned something about work the other day on Facebook and a friend commented "you're on sabbatical - you shouldn't be working!" Instantly I thought "but I can't just do nothing!"

'Work' over these months look very different for me. I'm hoping to write a book (well, half a book at least, along with a friend). I've done lots of reading, and reflecting. The pace has been very considerably slower than normal! Bedtime has been much earlier. I've watched more films. I've gone for more walks. I've gone to the gym more (in that I've gone to the gym!!)

It's has felt so strange not to be doing umpteen church services, being in and out of our church school, going to Christmas meals, visiting people at home. And it's not just the 'work' things' - I've hardly bought any Christmas presents (although I did do some before I left), and for the first time ever I haven't done Christmas cards! There's no food to buy, no parties to host, no meals to cook.

And yet I've wrestled with feeling guilty. I have often felt that I "should be doing more." I've wondered what people are thinking as they read my social media posts - "It's alright for her, lazing about for four months while I have to go to work." I've self-imposed a structure on my days of working in the church office 9-5 on week days,but then if someone has invited me out during that time I've felt like I shouldn't go. That's mad! (It's OK, I had a word with myself!)

What I'm realising is that so much of my identity is tied up with my busyness. I am Kate, I am the Vicar, I am Busy. But not always in that order. One of the themes of this sabbatical for me seems to be about rediscovering who I am. I want my identity to be entirely found in Jesus - in who I am in him, and not in what I do. He doesn't love me because I'm a Vicar. He doesn't love me because I'm Busy. He loves me because I'm me, and because he made me, and because he is Love.

I really hope that my sabbatical gives me the time to really learn these lessons, and to actually embed them into my life. I hope that regularly going to the gym now will mean that when I get back to work I still make time for it (don't get me wrong, I passionately dislike the gym, but you've got to do something!). I hope that going to I'll continue to go to bed at a sensible time (a friend of mine says "I do prefer going to bed on the same day that I woke up"!). I hope that I'll still take time for reading and watching films and having fun and sometimes doing nothing - all without feeling guilty!

I'm a realist - I know this stuff isn't easy to unlearn, and relearn. I know that my first month back at work will be a challenge, as phone calls and conversations and emails fly at me from all sides. I expect I will be busy again pretty soon. And maybe that's OK. I guess I just want to remember through it all who I really am, and what's really important. I think I'm going to be OK with sometimes being busy, as long as I remember I'm not Busy.

To end: a profound Christmas thought...

Work and worship at Christmas

If I had £1 for every time someone said to me during December, "ooh, it must be a busy time for you," I could retire in luxury and drink cocktails all day long. (That's not something I *ever* dream of though...)

It's hard to know how to respond. It is busy, of course it is - this is 1 of the 2 'most important' points in the Christian calendar, and, of the 2, it's by far the most commercially and culturally popular, and therefore the busiest. But (as I've found myself saying often to people over the last few weeks), although I'm busy, it's "good busy" - I'm busy doing lots of fun things.

This week, for instance, among other things, I've made heaps of mince pies, had an 'open house' for church (eating said mince pies), watched a Y1/Y2 and an EYFS Christmas play, signed Christmas carols for a service in a special school, and had a pub night out with a local community group I'm part of. That's in addition to the 'normal', non-Christmas stuff such as planning weddings, baptisms and funerals, visiting people, and writing sermons - LOTS of sermons!

But it's brilliant, isn't it?! Why would I not love doing all that. Preparing for Christmas and Easter, and leading and preaching in church on those days, is right up there at the top of the list of "reasons I love my job". People who don't usually come to church turn up and I get to part of welcoming them in and telling them how much God loves them. That's never not going to be fun.

I don't want people to think I'm "busy", if being "busy" means stressed, or distracted, or 'haven't got time for you', or 'my job's more important than yours'. Mind you, it's perhaps better than that other favourite, £1-earning saying about vicars only working one day a week. Ha ha, how we all chuckled. Through gritted teeth... Although I suppose I do get that people find it very hard to imagine what vicars do actually do from Monday morning to Saturday evening.

I was once asked by a hairdresser what I did and when I told her, rather than looking blank, or saying "you don't look like a vicar," which is what I've come to expect in such conversations, she immediately beamed and said "oooh, that must be such a LOVELY job." I've wondered about that since. I wish I'd asked her what she meant, but I was so surprised that I didn't. It IS a lovely job, actually, but I don't think she meant it for the same reasons as I do. Maybe she thought I spent my whole day cuddling babies, or drinking tea and eating cake with old ladies.

Anyway, I've been thinking this week about the whole 'busyness' thing, specifically as it relates to Christmas, and to Advent, the time of preparation for Christmas. Because one of the big dangers for clergy, or vicars, or ministers, or whatever you want to call us - and indeed for anyone whose job it is to 'do' Christmas in church - is that the whole thing will just become work instead of worship.

That's always a danger - the 'professionalisation' of church so that it becomes something we simply 'do'. I think, though, that it's even more of a danger at Christmas and Easter. We find ourselves dashing between carol services and home communions and toddler group parties. We have so many talks to write that we just dig out and dust off a few from previous years (*nothing wrong with sermon recycling every now and then by the way - as long as it doesn't become a way to avoid engaging with the Bible and what God is doing right here and now). We try to balance the church/work/personal, and something has to give - so either we have brilliant services but don't write any cards or buy any presents, and burn the roast dinner; or church is a bit pants but we go all Kirstie Allsopp and Mary Berry at home.

I really, really, don't want the joy and wonder and delight and excitement of leading a church at Christmas to become a chore. I don't want the awesome, incredible, beautiful, timeless story at the heart of it to become commonplace. I don't want the mindblowing privilege of telling people about Jesus - God's Son, come to earth as a tiny baby to be 'Emmanuel', God With Us - to become just another item on my to-do list.

Before I can do anything else at Christmas, before I can write the cards and wrap the presents and cook the food; and definitely before I can sing the songs and watch the plays and preach the story - I must first stop and be still and simply worship the God who loved me, you, us, enough to come into our world as one of us, to save us.

Here's a picture of our church Christmas tree after we'd decorated it to tell the whole story of Jesus (probably my highlight of Christmas every year):