052 - Chapter 52

(Illustrations: my artwork from the various places we visited)

Time at the caravan helped me to take up painting again, for a while at least. I’d almost forgotten how to! As a teacher I would mingle with pupils in the Art room, and direct their artwork, but I didn’t get the chance to paint myself, unless I was demonstrating techniques.

Now artists usually get inspired when something touches their souls, and our time in the Lake District, with its changing seasons, its misty mornings, and crimson sunsets did this for me. It was just the perfect place to be, it was incredibly beautiful. In spring, we would watch young lambs racing together in gangs, daffodils abounded in fields and along the hedgerows. Summer was the time for agricultural shows, sheep trials and dog shows, and walking in the fells. Then in autumn, the bright green leaves of summer turned to red and gold, and could be seen perfectly mirrored in the lakes. In winter snow frosted fells and icy rivers sparkled in the sun.

I attached a verse of scripture to each of my paintings, and later had several exhibitions in various places, my most memorable one being in the under-croft café at Durham Cathedral. There are some examples of my artwork in the ‘Illustrations’ section.

Life itself was very much like the ups and downs of the fells all around us, and making progress on any project was very like climbing Cat Bells; just when you thought you’d reached the top, there was another hill to climb! One minute everything might be fine and dandy, then all of a sudden, life would take a sudden and unexpected dip. Ministry was no exception, it too had its highs and lows.

Our hearts dipped when Uncle Bob, my mam’s brother, (the one who gave me away at my wedding), collapsed at his diamond wedding with complications from an aneurysm. He was taken off in an ambulance to hospital, and taken to the ITU. It was all very worrying for our family.

I was there with them each evening over the next few days, as we all were praying quietly for his recovery from his coma. Strangely I noticed that as I prayed out aloud by his bed, there was some movement on his monitors! I encouraged everyone to speak directly to him when they went in, and we took turns chatting away to him. Besides, this was so much better than just sitting around in silence worrying, and it gave us something to focus on. The doctor gave as little hope of his recovery, but on the fourth day ‘he rose again’! He opened one eye, then two and winked! He had recovered. He told me much later he had heard me praying, which I doubted, as he was unconscious all of the time. But who knows? They say the hearing is the last of the senses to go!

‘Healings’ and answers to prayer were happening fairly often, and cynics might say that the he would have recovered anyway! Really? So shall I just say that some amazing God coincidences happen in seemingly impossible situations, when prayers were offered. I began to make a private list of such recoveries, and it was amazing how many ticks were beside each name.

Joan left the Willington Team in 2003 to become rector at St James and St Basil church in Fenham. She was a great miss to us in the Willington Team, but it was good news for her new parishioners in Fenham, who welcomed her with open arms. We gave her a lovely send off!

Then there was another downturn. Bob’s dad Jack Hamil, died. At least he got to see his Stephen and Sarah get married, and Peter become a firefighter.

It is said that death is the final healing! He was 86, and now quite frail. He had already rallied once or twice before this, when he seemed at death’s door, and recovered time and again, but not this time. He was tired and ready to leave this world.

On the day he died, Bob was with him, but he left his side to come and collect me after a school assembly, in order to take me back to the hospital with him. He had already said ‘Goodbye’ to him before he left, but when we arrived at the ward, he had already died.

We all loved him so very much and we were all going to miss him. I couldn’t let anyone else conduct his funeral service, it was a privilege to do this for him, he would have wanted it this way.

When Jack was a baby, his mother had taken him to her nearest church for baptism, thinking it was the correct thing to do. She seemed unaware of the fact it was a Protestant church! Now Jack’s dad’s family were all Roman Catholics, and when one of them, an aunty, found out what had happened, she put a curse on him! So when I became a priest, I made sure that the very first person I blessed was Jack; in fact, I’ve blessed him and loved him ever since the day I first knew him. He, and Bob’s mam Harriet, had pointed me in Bob’s direction. Also as a father-in-law, he was the very best.