It is a month since I was inducted as Vicar of Holy Island and Team Leader of the Bro Cybi Ministry Area by the Bishop of Bangor. I am blogging quite regularly about the journey of our new Ministry Area, and this can be found here: http://bangor.churchinwales.org.uk/news/2014/02/bro-cybis-journey-1/

I am therefore leaving those particular reflections to that slot; what I thought was worth exploring, eversobriefly, is the way in which I have come to feel at home here in a relatively short place of time.

Having said that there is much about my previous parish that I miss, not least the people, and the Churches of Holy Island pray regularly that a new incumbent is appointed at St Michael and All Angels, Bartley Green as soon as is practicable.

I feel at home because Holy Island is quite like the place I grew up: Sheffield.

This is not as bizarre as it sounds. Sheffield, in God’s own county of Yorkshire is similar to North Wales not least because of the delight in straight talking, but also because both places are shaped by the landscape. Sheffield shaped as it is by seven hill still retains a semi-village feel, and a closeness to the beauty of the Peaks. Holyhead, Rhoscolyn and Trearddur Bay are shaped by the sea and wind in an altogether different way. In both places (the steel city and the land when the skies meet the sea) there is a need to listen attentively to the place as well as people.

In crossing the Straits, I am therefore learning a lot about being home, in this new place and in the place that I grew up; and both are continuing to shape me.