Time flies when the proverbial is happening.

In many ways, I still have to pinch myself to remember that I am the Vicar of Bro Cybi (Holy Island) on Ynys Mon. It is not a position ever imagined that I would occupy when David, Lord Bishop of Gloucester ordained me deacon in the Church of God on 1 July 2001.

Indeed in September 2013, I am not sure I envisaged moving from one Anglican Province to another.

There are elements of life in my previous parish that I miss quite deeply, yet I am delighted nevertheless to be here.

I have delighted in learning a language. I am the foothills only of doing so. With a language comes a culture. I have learnt, or rather I am learning, to operate within a bilingual context.

(Welsh is more than just a language; a collection of sounds. Rather, it is intimately connected to the people and land. It is in essence, I think quite spiritual)

Of course, every Christian minister operates bilingually, or least we should do. In order to communicate anything we believe, we have to accept that we need to speak in a different language. This will be difficult at first, because we will need to learn to converse rather than to tell people things. Our speech will be hesitant rather than forthright; constantly checking that what we are saying that our pronunciations and intonations are correct. Learning a new language is vulnerable in the extreme, you move seamlessly from a world where you an articulate adult to one in where you are toddler grasping at particular words and phrases. Any form of evangelism that will be adequate today will need to grasp the reality of learning, conversation and humility.

My second year has been about vulnerability…. I think the third will be much of the same.