Lent continues. Today I have focused on memories of those who have travelled with me previously. On my study wall is a cross. I am a Vicar. It goes with the territory. This one was fashioned by a carpenter named John. It is deliberately made to look battered. John died recently. I miss him.

As I look around my study, I see a photo of me and my Dad larking around. He died 20 years ago. I miss him.

I can also see photographs of my ordination group. I am unsure how many of them on the photo know where I am or whether I know where they are. I wonder whether they are still as passionate as we were in 2001. I do miss them.

There are also bits and pieces from ministry eleswhere: a two pint glass from St Michael’s CE School, Bartley Green; a dragon painted by my son, Shaun, when he was 7. It is a welsh one: perhaps it was prophetic. There are icons from Patmos, Chalices from Lee Abbey and paintings from Gloucesteshire.

There are things that need to be thrown away really too. But, to do that might lose the memory.

Lent is a journey, as if life. We do not journey alone. Even in the solitude we are surrounded by companions. Those companions and events shape me: even the ones I might struggle with.

Someone, somewhere might remember my part in their journeying. Sometimes it will be for good, and sometimes not.

Together we still journey