The Year of the Adjective
*Content Warning: Those who struggle with free speech or are of a western progressive cultural disposition may prefer to read the alternative version here
Or maybe the year of the adjectivally and adverbally challenged. Whatever the case, 2020 is likely to go down in our household as the year when most folk ran out of adjectives and adverbs. We discovered the limit of superlatives. In itself this was a good thing, I feel, for the English language at least, and especially for certain charismatic Christians who for some time now have been demonstrating a tendency to describe quite unextraordinary, sometimes good and often merely nice events and happenings as “amazing!” or “fantastic!” or “incredible!” (Usually with multiple exclamation marks if in written form, but I just can’t bring myself to do that here). 2020 must have been a real challenge for such types; with the COVID pandemic, once you’ve got to “unprecedented” when social distancing became a thing, just where do you go after that? Lockdown was definitely unbelievably unprecedented and here in Guernsey, where in the spring some poor folk were fined £6000 for breaking self-isolation rules and others got put behind bars for similar misdemeanours, we felt we were certainly living in incredibly amazing and fabulously unparalleled times beyond belief. Then there’s Brexit. That’s been incomprehensibly frustrating, involving unimaginable tedium, and no doubt will have exceptionally unpredictable and freakishly anomalous effects on our economies for some unknown unknown time to come.
Sometimes we have commented, as this year has trundled along at the pace of an arthritic tortoise, that as it has seemed like the longest year ever, we have forgotten what life was like before (some of that is good news of course – more on that later); we can no longer remember what we were really expecting from 2020, so much has changed along the way, and changed again, and then again; so many plans have been made, delayed, reconfigured, shelved, scrapped, replaced, etc.; so much energy has gone into planning events, activities, meetings, travel, business and social engagements which has been lost; we’ve needed to learn how to do things differently, digitally, on-line, via technology, to work remotely as they say. Now that is an interesting word in today’s usage. As one who chooses to live on a rock in the English Channel, I was perhaps used to the concept. But remote also used to have connotations of obscure, god-forsaken and unapproachable! Nice to see it redeemed therefore into something more constructive and positive.
2020 has certainly been a year where we who live in the Bailiwick of Guernsey have been glad to be remote. It is not the only factor, but there are distinct advantages of being bordered by rough seas all around. Couple that with excellent leadership, swift and decisive government decision making (I would say that of course) and we find ourselves living in what has recently qualified as one of the happiest, safest and healthiest places to live (according to comparisons with British and global regions in OECD statistics). And this research was pre-COVID. Bearing in mind Guernsey has been able to return to normal life unrestricted (within the borders of our islands) since July, plus we’ve consistently managed to get almost universal community support and trust in enforcement of our control measures, thus keeping COVID at bay, we’ve probably exceeded those global wellness stats now! Interestingly this was in effect one of the aims which my friend Marc Winn and others came up with when they launched the Dandelion Project during my time as Chief Minister six years ago or so. We all thought they were a tad mad back then!
So it’s not been all doom and gloom. Only perhaps for some of you who don’t already live in paradise. But – more seriously – this GG is in some ways a therapeutic and cathartic attempt on my part (and no doubt somewhat selfishly) to analyse, reflect upon, and re-evaluate the activities, relationships and values which have been challenged by living through 2020. I therefore warn you that this edition may not be as silly as some might like, it may not be as hypnagogic as you hoped, and thus I remind you that there is always the abridged, anodyne, alternative version available here.
Now, for those still with us, let’s take a whistle-stop tour over the past twelve months or so in the time honoured fashion.
In December last year (2019) Judith and I were preparing for Christmas in the UK, spending time with Judith’s Mum, Miriam in Epsom, and her youngest brother Ian and his partner Adam who currently live in Cheam (but are soon to move oop [sic] north). Our daughters were with others for Christmas so it was nice not be “on duty” for a change, to be served splendidly for several days and to enjoy some time with some of Judith’s family. 2019 had been a very busy year of travel, especially for me, both politically and church-wise; I worked out that I had spent over 100 days off-island or travelling, mostly on short trips, aside from our annual family breaks which saw us again at our petite domaine near Bordeaux for a couple of weeks in the spring and the summer. Travelling regularly for business is nowhere near as glamorous as some may imagine, I am sure many of you are aware of that; living out of a small suitcase which you pack, unpack and pack again, sometimes in the space of just a few days, (trying to) sleep in different beds of varying quality, incessant airport delays and security issues, grabbing fast food in a hurry to get to the next appointment, reading briefing notes and responding to interminable emails on the go — leaves you with an underlying background exhaustion, which possibly only a year like 2020 brings to the surface.
This year began, therefore, like many others; once January was upon us we knew we had the regular things to plan for in the first few months — more Brexit related meetings and matters to deal with as the spillage from the UK’s leaving the EU impacts upon these Crown islands’ external affairs, leadership meetings and events in the UK, France and Europe relating to our ministry with the New Ground sphere and Newfrontiers family of churches, preaching and discipleship here in our home base church rock.gg, several weekend visits to leadership teams, churches, training events and conferences — plus a few less common happenings to plan for, including a General Election which generally happens only once every 4 years in Guernsey. So we hit the ground running with all of that, plus the odd unexpected EU/Guernsey fisheries crisis thrown into the mix (which we resolved in record time!).
First off, a beautifully fresh January weekend visit to dear friends who lead our church in Quimper, in south west Brittany, followed soon after by a leaders conference in Liverpool, then political meetings in Paris, London and Brussels, etc. In early February Judith and I even managed to squeeze in a week’s break in Fuerteventura. We look back at this now with massive gratitude, really seeing this as the gracious provision of God. We enjoyed our week off back then, certainly, but little did we know what the rest of the year would hold for us. We had booked the holiday in view of the fact that we were unlikely to get any time off during the spring time with Guernsey’s General Election in June, the manically busy ‘legislative pile-up’ in March-April which is the common feature of Guernsey’s end of political terms and a full campaign in swing during May. The first few weeks of a new parliament, the election of the Chief Minister, his/her senior team, the other government leads and various committees normally also takes a few weeks to accomplish and then settle down, so we well imagined not being able to get any respite until August, when we were planning to spend time in France, amongst other things leading and speaking at Festival a significant Christian family conference which we were helping to organise.
Ironically perhaps now, during the latter half of 2019, I had became quite despondent and devitalised about politics and had begun to wonder if I should not seek re-election. I expressed these feelings to Judith, we prayed for guidance, shared with family and also asked a number of wise close friends to pray and speak into our situation. Having first been elected in 2000, and, apart from one term where I chose not to stand (2008-12) served not just in the parliamentary Assembly, but in senior government roles during those terms, one sees a lot of coming and going, long-serving politicians leave, sometimes with an “I-told-you-so” look on their faces, one-term wonders sweep in on a huge majority only to be swept out at the next election or give up because political leadership is a little more complicated than it may seem from the outside. So its not difficult to become cynical, or perhaps I should say it becomes harder to remain optimistic as time goes on. Moreover, the modern Western political landscape is a very lonely place as a follower of Jesus. It’s not just that there are not many people of faith in the political and public arena – it’s compounded by the fact that many Christians including other pastors and church leaders frankly do not have a clue what it involves and the sort of missional pressure one’s soul is put under when seeking to walk into such a dark place. You certainly learn to walk with Jesus, because most often He’s the only one who goes the distance with you. Whilst I can cope with isolation as I’ve said before, loneliness is a different matter altogether. It brings about a weariness that quickly drains the soul. I thought of all the other challenging things I might rather be doing with my time and energy – there was no lack of appealing ideas!
By the beginning of 2020 however two things had occurred to help me decide, provide hope and to refocus my resolve. One was spending a few days with a group of men and women who share very similar vision and values to me. They are an international body made up of legislators from various nations, government ministers, lawyers, former politicians and the like, assisted by researchers, scientists, thinkers, policy advisors etc., who come together once or twice a year under a loose affiliation with the objective of raising up and supporting a new generation of global leaders, politicians, statesmen and women who will advocate and fight on issues of human dignity from cradle to grave, including human trafficking, modern-day slavery, abortion, euthanasia and all things in between. The group is graciously led by Lord David Alton and my conscience was greatly stirred when in conversation about my dilemma he reminded me that I had a responsibility – even when feeling that I was failing – to seek to identify, raise up, train and encourage others to take on the baton. This was indeed a conviction I had often stated that had led me to stand (run if you’re American – we’re far more sedentary over here!) for office in the first place. I felt a spark reignite old passions within me. Then, strangely over a period of of a few weeks, friends and family, many of whom I felt in the past had questioned why I bothered with the stress of it all, expressed concern that I was considering not seeking re-election and pointed to things I had said and done which they felt had stood out for integrity and responsibility, had spoken for their values, and made a difference. It was the confirmation and encouragement I needed to hear.
So that’s how 2020 started.
But by March things were beginning to “gang aft agley” (to quote the Bard of Ayrshire) for this man as well as for many others, including women, boys and girls, if not for mice. The weekend of March 13-15 I was heading for the Isle of Man, having attended a conference in London with international attendees. The COVID19 situation was beginning to affect behaviours; handshaking was out, elbow nudging was in, or foot tapping if you preferred. I jokingly asked some French colleagues whether one should elbow-nudge or foot-tap deux fois or perhaps trois ou quatre fois to keep to proper French etiquette. News reports were beginning to fill up with stories of severe cases, increasing death rates and hospitals in crisis in Italy and parts of France. I noticed as I passed through Gatwick airport to board my flight to the Isle of Man that there seemed to be far fewer people travelling that weekend than I would have expected. As I arrived in the Isle of Man the Commonwealth event I was due to attend was cancelled due to the pandemic (that word was now being increasingly used), nevertheless I did enjoy Saturday and Sunday with great friends Jonathan and Annette Stanfield, their lovely family and impressively welcoming and serving church – Living Hope – where I was speaking on the Sunday. This proved to be the calm before the storm. Returning home via Gatwick again on the Monday it was clear that significant numbers were choosing not to fly; the place seemed half empty. The world was rapidly changing.
Back in Guernsey two remarkable things happened within the next couple of days: firstly the introduction of social distancing, hand sanitiser and other COVID19 measures in all government meetings, which soon moved from oddity to banality. Secondly the birth of the gorgeous and long-awaited Bonamy Gordon Wilfred Vidamour to Lucy and Luke (“Bonnie” to his friends).
In all honesty this is the event that has really helped us keep focused on hope, joy and the goodness of God throughout 2020. It’s hard to believe now but Bonnie was the result of many years of tears, trials, medical advice and treatments, more disappointment, yet more hardship, the involvement of more specialists, eventually trips overseas for IVF, a little ray of hope and much prayer on the part of Lucy and Luke, us, family and friends. The background story is well told by Luke here for those who can access Facebook.
A few hours after Bonnie was born we were able to have a welcome-to-this-strange-world cuddle in hospital just before visitation restrictions kicked in a day later, but after that Judith saw him a couple more times at home, then that would be it for over six weeks before we were able to hug him or his parents again as Guernsey went into a strict COVID19 lock-down until Saturday May 3.
But Bonnie had arrived, safe and sound. And like a long-awaited promise, he represented for us the hope we all had (and have) that where we currently find ourselves is not the end of the story; we must persevere, hold on —the best is yet to come.
Guernsey’s lock-down was indeed strict and slightly earlier than elsewhere. Our borders had been increasingly restricted since late February to travellers from places where the pandemic was raging. From mid-March all non-essential travel was forbidden, households were limited to the home and two hours of outdoor activity daily, only front-line and essential workers were permitted to leave home to work if required, food shops introduced access limitations and socially distanced queuing outside, everything else closed, partly closed or went to home-delivery where it could. The Guernsey Government quickly adapted to on-line working using MS Teams mainly and being government-lead for digital transformation I was tasked to help persuade, train and prepare some of the e-laggards and less technically-minded political colleagues for remote parliamentary assemblies and government decision-making. I found myself busier than ever, taking on the chairmanship of existing and newly created committees and groups to help these islands navigate through the health and economic challenges, on top of on-going Brexit and future trade-related talks which continued as usual, although much less in the media at the time. The General Election was delayed, initially for 12 months when it was uncertain how long lock-down and other restrictions would last. Judith had to learn new tricks too since working as a nurse in ENT meant that she was seeing very vulnerable patients who sometimes had needed to go off-island for operations, were self-isolating afterwards but still needed to see consultants and nurses on return. PPE clothing and equipment, initially is short supply, became common-place and every process became drawn-out, stressful and wearisome.
Our church in Guernsey and family of churches across French-speaking Europe are fortunate to have a number of very gifted technicians who quickly rallied to bring church communities on-line in one form or another, either live or recorded and broadcast, so although all our visits, conferences and weekends were first postponed and then eventually cancelled, as the UK, France, Switzerland and Europe in general entered into lock-down we found ourselves preaching and speaking in as many if not more places than we’d to able to visit under normal circumstances! Of course it’s not the same experience as worshipping together in person, plus a few folk will always struggle to get access, but we were encouraged by the rise of faith and activity among believers, many of whom found themselves serving their communities in new ways too as they expressed the Gospel grace and love of Jesus to those effected by the pandemic. We also became more involved in supporting our local church here whilst restrictions were in place in Guernsey, preaching more regularly and helping care for those who were struggling.
During lock-down Judith and I (and Emily on occasion) discovered the joys of walking the Green Lanes in the western parishes of St Pierre-du-Bois and Torteval. These are ancient country pathways which never became public thoroughfares or asphalted. We are fairly familiar with the ones around us in Cobo, but armed with a little booklet and a map we set out every day to discover hidden Guernsey during our two hours of freedom. The weather in late March and during April was very kind to us, exceptionally mild, and we loved the whole experience so much we returned to walk some of these twice later in the year.
A mini live and video recording studio was set up in Jon’s study (which still exists because it’s still needed although life within Guernsey returned to normal since July except for our borders). Guernsey decided to bring in fairly strict lock-down regulations right at the start and even once things had moved to a less restrictive phase in early May (where we were able to join with another household to form a ‘bubble’ which meant for us being reunited with Lucy, Luke and Bonamy, but not with Grace, Ollie & Beau!) it was still tough for a few more weeks until we entered the next phase where we were able to ‘double bubble’. However by July all islands in the Bailiwick of Guernsey were COVID19 free!
Very strict border controls were (and still remain) in place, meaning that basically travel from anywhere with higher density of COVID19 cases meant two weeks compulsory isolation, and we established a robust test-track-trace system very early on. For a jurisdiction of several small islands and a population of under 70,000, we were fortunate to have in post as Director of Public Health, Dr Nicola Brink, whose expertise was in virology and pandemics. I was involved in her appointment some years ago when the greatest threat on our emergency planning radar was a fire on a cruise liner or an explosion at a nearby French Nuclear Power Station. Nevertheless, it transpired that we were well placed in terms of clear, evidence based scientific advice when it came to the threat of COVID19, and whilst there were some doubters and naysayers who decried what to them resembled disproportionate and overreactive responses, such noises soon subsided when Guernsey was able to shorten its lockdown and return to relative normality in a few months. Guernsey did see several hundred cases early on and sadly a few dozen deaths, mainly among the elderly in Care Homes, but perhaps as a result of all of this we had very good community support and ‘buy-in’ to the regime; a spirit exemplified by the “Guernsey Together” hashtag has pervaded and brought the community together almost like never before. As the numbers of cases diminished the border restrictions remained (except for travel to-from the Isle of Man with whom we had an air-bridge during the summer as a similar regime there ensured a similar COVID19 risk to the Bailiwick of Guernsey). Our cousins in Jersey followed more of a UK model in their response and sadly have not fared so well, especially in the second wave, and so we have been rather cut-off from them for some time. Tourism and businesses allied to this part of the economy have suffered the most in the Channel Islands, as many of the rest of the employed population here were able to return to normal or were working largely ‘remotely’ in any case due to the international nature of their business.
Cousins (re-)united with Papa 
Not a tent… really 
Beau et les vaques… 
Bouncing Bonnie
This necessitated discovering the joy of staycations. At least compared to Jersey we had several other islands to choose from! Our family decided however, firstly in July, to try out a new glamping site which had opened up in fields overlooking Guernsey’s south west coast – Camp de Reves. The nine of us booked a long weekend in two tents (er… not really, by my definition, I’d say raised wooden cabins with canvas roofs and sides, shower, toilets, kitchens and barbecues!) —we had a thoroughly delightful time. The weather was superb and being with our children and grandchildren, cooking, eating, laughing and playing together was such a delight, especially with no social distancing, masks, or any other restrictions. We could walk to the beach for swims, see the cows and tractors in the fields around us, enjoy beautiful walks through the country lanes, and generally relax for a few days which seemed much longer.
With Guernsey operating relatively normally, the decision was made, rather at the last minute, to move our General Election forward from its delayed date of June 2021 to 7 October 2020. As a result, instead of having a normally quiet July and August with very few meetings, these months became some of the busiest of the year and Judith and I, already prevented effectively from visiting family in the UK or taking a break at our place in France (due to the need to self-isolate for two weeks on return) found ourselves with little ‘time off’ in the run up to the October election, a campaign to plan for to boot. So we grabbed a couple of nights in Sark, but apart from that it was full steam ahead and all systems go.
The election campaign weeks during September were certainly unusual. To be honest, this was an unusual election by any standards. Firstly Guernsey had decided (in a 2018 referendum – that great democratic idea which solves all problems) to remove all constituencies and elect all 38 members of its Assembly in one island-wide vote on one day. Up until this time, Guernsey voters had been limited to voting for candidates within their district (between 5 and 7 votes/seats depending on the district population size). Judith thinks discussing electoral issues is the dullest aspect of an already dull political science. So if such on all this ticks your election boxes you can click here for more information and possibly added dullness.
But no matter. Cut to 8 October: I was re-elected, with a credible middling vote. Many of my previous colleagues however did not fare so well and several lost their seats, some rather spectacularly. As a result, when the dust settled, we could see that over half of the the new Assembly were newcomers. Plus after the internal electoral college votes to elect the new Chief Minister and senior government team, virtually all my old colleagues ended up without a position. I alone was left, voted back into the same office – Minister for External Relations & Constitutional Affairs – the role I had held during the last term.
Quite a strange turn out for the books. And not what we had planned for. However, I was, and am, very happy to be entrusted with continuing to represent Guernsey’s interests internationally, to build on the relationships we have worked hard to strengthen with our partners and neighbours on all sides. I was also pleased to continue to work with the dedicated team of advisors and officials who have made my role so much easier because of their hard work and dedication. I have effectively been working with many of these guys since 2012 when European affairs became part of my remit, and we know one another very well, which makes the whole thing that much easier. It was good timing too as in October we had Brexit deadlines rapidly looming and there had been a number of unusual Brexit related challenges taking up my time during the election campaign period. The Channel Islands, whilst not part of the United Kingdom, nor of the EU, as dependencies of the Crown did have a relationship with the EU which covered essentially trade in goods, fisheries and customs arrangements. Along with the Republic of Ireland and the Isle of Man, the Channel Islands also form part of the Common Travel Area with the UK and we wanted this to continue. But it’s all quite complicated. The UK’s withdrawal therefore had an effect on all of these and so we are inevitably drawn in but have virtually no legal say in the whole affair except via the UK government and its negotiating team with whom we had been liaising for some time.
Re-elected 
the new Assembly sits 
Representing Guernsey in Paris
To cut to the chase, whilst we would have much rather the status quo remain, what we have ended up with is quite a good deal for Guernsey: our fishermen can still land their catch tariff free in nearby French ports; we are happy in return to let French fishermen who have historically fished in our waters to continue to do so under licence; export/import of goods from the EU can continue without too much red-tape; free movement of people to/from the UK and Eire can continue unhindered; we are still able to set our own rates of taxation and duties. For services and all other issues Guernsey was always outside the EU and considered a 3rd Country – a situation in which the UK now finds itself – so we are content to continue to negotiate on this basis.
And so as we headed towards the finish line on these negotiations, on the morning of 5 December, I had a heart attack.
Again, not exactly what we had planned. In fact, it was not even what I thought I was having at the time. Being married to a nurse means that I have had to listen to incessant medical advice and this year I gave into the “you should have a flu jab at your age” malarkey. My reason for giving in so fast? I hear you ask. Well, it was because 15 months before, in the autumn of 2019 I had been faced with the “you weigh over 118kg and are a prime target for diabetes” malarkey. I had actually given in to that, found a diet that suited me well and was sustainable (basically keto), started regular work outs at the gym (which I had been a member of for years but rarely attended!) and found myself just over a year later, over 18 kg lighter, starting each day early with 90 minutes exercise, feeling much healthier, happier and fitter than I had felt for decades! So that malarkey worked and I thought I should therefore try the flu jab too.
However I had some sort of weird reaction. Within 24 hours the top of my right arm (where it was administered) became inflamed and sore. Struggling to sleep on that side as normal, I tossed and turned in the night, getting up in the early hours with what I described as a dull ache which seemed to have moved from my right arm across into the right side of my chest. I eventually did get some sleep. The next morning we were at a family birthday party. I still had an ache in the right side of my chest, but was dismissing it as is my wont, however Judith, noticing my pallor (apparently that means I looked a little peaky) decided we should pay a trip to the Emergency Dept (A&E in old English). We arrived, saw a nice doctor who checked my blood pressure, did an ECG, made me have a chest Xray, then finally took some blood. He said everything looked to be functioning just fine, the bloods would take around 45 minutes to check and he joked that if there was anything awry with those results he would eat his hat. So he sent us home and said he’d call in due course. We arrived home and started to tuck into lunch. The phone rang. It was the Doctor. About to feast on his chapeau. The results were back and one indicator was raised to a degree of concern. I needed to return to hospital, straight away.
They kept me in for two nights. The first time I’d ever stayed in hospital. More tests were done, and on the following day they decided to transfer me by Air Ambulance to the Cardiac Unit in Southampton with which Guernsey is linked. This was quite an experience! The Gama Medevac service was just superb; within a short time I was in their bespoke King Air B200 heading for Southampton. Without Judith however, since due to COVID19 restrictions no visitors were allowed into Southampton Hospital. This was really the most difficult aspect; we both knew I was in very good hands, but it was heartbreaking to kiss goodbye in the ambulance hoping all would be well but not being sure of that.
The excellent Gama Air Ambulance team 
Feeling peaky…
I ended up spending three nights in Southampton. They did more tests, an angiogram and confirmed that I had indeed had a heart attack (not a reaction to the flu jab!) One of the minor arteries at the rear of the heart was completely blocked, but none of the others so seriously that putting a stent in was necessary or would help. The Cardiologist explained that it should be manageable using medication and through lifestyle changes. Lifestyle changes eh? Just what had I been doing for the past year or so then? Well of course he wasn’t initially aware of my conversion to weight loss, diet and fitness regimes, but once he knew, he did make it very clear that I could have been in a very different place had I not committed to such lifestyle changes.
I returned to Guernsey on Thursday 10 December on the regular flight from Southampton. That was interesting. I hadn’t been on a regular flight since March. Indeed compared to last year, when I spent over 100 nights away from home, I have spent under 20 this year. I wonder what 2021 will bring. Arriving in Guernsey it was a case of being wheelchaired through security and experiencing all the new border COVID19 testing facilities which we have put in place. Since then it’s been two weeks of statutory self-isolation at home – which Judith was kind enough to take with me – and now four weeks of gradual rehabilitation to a more regular work and commitment regime, getting used to the meds I’ve been given (which make me both colder than I am used to feeling and to sleep more).
Meanwhile in 2020 Judith completed 9 and a half years working at the Medical Specialist Group, the last season based largely with the ENT outpatients team. She has enjoyed this very much but has increasingly felt drawn towards working in Guernsey’s hospice – Les Bourgs. So, when in October a suitable part-time nursing position opened up she was delighted to be offered it. She begins there in February.
Emily on a lock-down walk 
Auntie Ems 
Ems & Beau enjoying the summer sun 
A walk in the fields
In summary, as we come to reflect on 2020 we find much joy in both expected and unexpected places. In big things and in little things. In the lovely people around us, family and friends, relationships and time spent together, but also in crises and unexpected challenges. We are counting our blessings in all things. Emily (now 26) continues to live in the downstairs flat in the wing of Feugré Villa, so was effectively in our ‘household bubble’ all through lock-down. She is a wonderful, fun auntie to Beau and Bonnie – we love seeing her with them. She has been the manager of Plaisirs, a luxury boutique and gift shop in St Peter Port for 18 months. She manages over half a dozen staff and an on-line business, and did so successfully throughout lock-down and during other restrictions. It was very stressful, but she’s emerged out of it a mature and sensible woman able to manage a retail business under extreme pressure.
Mums & babies 
Ollie, Beau, Grace & bump 
Luke & Bonnie at a summer event
It is a wonder to behold Lucy and Grace blossoming as mothers to Bonnie and Beau respectively. As well as aunts in their own right of course. And those little lads bring us untold joy as grandparents. In fact we look forward to the arrival of another grandchild in a few weeks (Grace could only be described as ‘blooming’ over Christmas!)
Luke and Ollie are directors of the companies they work for, responsible for local and international projects and contracts. Still finding time to make music and to surf. Both have worked out as fathers how to share their responsibilities appropriately with their working spouses. Together with all five of our children (including sons-in-law) we continue to love serving in church through music, worship leading, hosting and welcoming, etc.
La vie est belle.
Our family is growing up, each taking on their own challenges, learning their own lessons, forging their own cultures, traditions and memories. We are privileged to be allowed the moment to observe this.
So we leave 2020 having been afforded the opportunity to re-evaluate what matters most, to check the price tags on the items which make up life and living in this increasingly crazy mis-priced world. And so we are grateful to be entering 2021 ever more confident in seeing the goodness of God in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13) We are looking to slow down and savour more of the things which we value (or have resolved that we should value) more in life. Some of them are quite small and often fleeting; this may take us extra time in order to ensure we don’t miss them. We are going to learn to enjoy the sanctity or sacrament of the present moment (Jean-Pierre de Caussade) and we are going to smile, laugh and sing.
Wishing you well today, and in all your todays.
with our love,
Jonathan & Judith
In the unlikely event... 