It’s New Year’s Eve, and I have just dropped my son off at the train station. As a young adult he is quite naturally off to party, whereas I am happy to cuddle up at home with a glass of red watching fireworks from across the world.

As a teenager New Year’s Eve was surrounded with love. I would return each year to the CYFA (Christian Youth Fellowship Association) camp I had been attending each summer throughout the mid 80s and early 90s. Limpsfield (which became Mayfield, then Danehill) took over a boarding school throughout their holidays. I would be reunited with friends I had made over the years, and we would bask in God’s love. At midnight there would be a queue for the payphone (yes these were the days before personal phones) in order to call home and gush to our parents how much we loved them. My family isn’t particularly emotive and this was probably the annual declaration of fondness as we wished each other a Happy New Year. Limpsfield was a ‘thin’ place, where teenagers from all sorts of backgrounds had been prayed over for decades as we were nurtured in God’s love and grace for each of us.

Unusually for a group of teenagers and 20 somethings, there was no alcohol, no games of spin the bottle, and certainly no regrets the next morning. One of my strongest memories of New Year’s Eve is dancing the night away to Fat and Frantic who were the Christian pop band of the era (and former Limpsfielders to boot), singing ‘Maranatha’, Come Lord Jesus! before heading to our dormitories for the first ‘dorm time’ of the New Year.

It was busy and social, and as an introvert I would need to find some time in the evening to journal how I was feeling as one year gave way to another. I still do.

Tonight I am reflecting on a year full of surprises and kindnesses. In many ways it has been a difficult year: we have struggled with finances, my mum’s illness brings her closer and closer to her final journey, and we have had to say farewell to our beloved Puggle, Lily. I am firmly a member of the sandwich generation, with one child at university, another filling out applications and being transported to open days across the South of England.

There have been adventures and blessings, thanks to the generosity of others: a cruise to Iceland with my parents and brother, seeing Kylie perform at the O2 thanks to my daughter’s Godfather and his clergy wife, my dear friend I was ordained with, sharing laughter, coffee, and dips in the pool with my Silver Hen friends made in parish ministry; a return to the Pirate Festival in our forever home town.

I have continued to carry out my priestly ministry, offering Spiritual Direction (Accompaniment) via Zoom, and hosting bespoke Petite Retreats for churches, prayer groups, walking groups and even a hen party. The community run Thrift Shop and Cafe I have run on the estate for the last few years came to a natural end as the summer term came to a close.

I began to feel God’s tug towards something else, something new, but familiar.

A curious google brought to my attention a small group of parishes in the Devon countryside. It looked like the perfect fit for me, just a year too soon. Our plan was to move to Devon Summer 26, once both children have finished their schooling and are university bound. God had other ideas.

My (not so) mini-me became prophet as she urged me to apply, declared that I was perfect for the role and just what I needed. She knew that this was for me, and as it turns out I was the only applicant. It is as though God had created this perfect space for me to thrive in my ministry, my discipleship, my faith journey.

And so the year has culminated with a somewhat topsy turvy empty nesting as I have left home for half the week (returning with my laundry) in order to head back into rural parish ministry. I have been welcomed with love and prayers, and feel like a round peg in a round hole once more. As I celebrated communion for the first time as the ‘Culmley Rector’, standing in front of my new parishioners I found myself thinking ‘I’m at home.’

This New Year’s Day I will turn a fresh page in my new journal and begin looking forward to what this New Year has to bring, what surprises and insights God will bless me with.

If you would like to explore journaling in 2026 why not treat yourself to a Heartwork Journal available in A5 and A6 from my shop.