Free Gifts

Sunday Service, 14 December 2025

Led by Members of the Congregation

Musical Prelude: Elgar - Salut d’Amour (performed by Georgia Dawson and George Ireland)  

(LIZ) Opening Words: ‘Welcome to this Place’ by Cathy Rion Starr

Welcome to this place of peace;

May we find some moments of quiet contemplation here.

Welcome to this place of celebration;

May our hearts soar with gratitude for the gift of life.

Welcome to this place of sacred love;

May we gently hold all that is broken here.

Welcome to this place of inquiry;

Here, may we be challenged to open our minds and hearts.

Come into this place of community;

May we, together, draw the circle of love and justice ever wider.

Welcome to this sacred place;

Come, let us worship, celebrate, grieve, and love together. (pause)

(LIZ) Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Cathy Rion Starr welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube or listening to the podcast stream.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Liz Tuckwell, and I’m chair of the congregation. 

Our service today will be led by members of the congregation and it’s titled ‘Free Gifts’. In this season, where so much emphasis is placed on spending money and exchanging material gifts, we are going to back away from the rampant consumerism and think about gifts in a different way. What about all those gifts we can give each other that don’t cost any money at all – the kind word, the time, attention, or presence we can offer to each other – or perhaps low cost, or hand-made, items which are nonetheless very thoughtfully given, or of great symbolic and sentimental value?

This morning David, Charlotte, Roy, Jasmine – and me! – will be sharing our personal reflections.

(LIZ) Chalice Lighting and Advent Candle: ‘The Gift of This Day’ by Amy G. S. A. Brooks

Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to stop and take a breath, settle ourselves down, put aside any preoccupations we came in carrying. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.

(light chalice) 

We light this chalice

to kindle a flame of warmth;

as a reminder

of the connection that draws us in

to a community that opens us up

in gratitude

for the breath in our lungs

and the love in our hearts,

for the gift of this day, alive.

(short pause)

And as it is the third Sunday in Advent let us also light our third Advent candle – the third one is pink! – and it is traditionally lit in the name of ‘joy’.

(light pink candle and two previously lit purples).

(LIZ) Hymn (on sheet): ‘Life’s Great Gifts’

Our first hymn is on the hymn sheet in your order of service: ‘Life’s Great Gifts’. For those on zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer: ‘Life’s Great Gifts’.

Life is the greatest gift of all

The riches on this earth;

Life and its creatures, great and small,

Of high and lowly birth:

So treasure it and measure it

With deeds of shining worth.

We are of life, its shining gift,

The measure of all things;

Up from the dust our temples lift,

Our vision soars on wings;

For seed and root, for flower and fruit,

Our grateful spirit sings.

Mind is the brightest gift of all,

Its thought no barrier mars;

Seeking creation's hidden plan,

Its quest surmounts all bars;

It reins the wind, it chains the storm,

It weighs the outmost stars

Love is the highest gift of life,

Our glory and our good;

Kindred and friend, husband and wife,

It flows in golden flood;

So, hand in hand, from land to land,

Spread sister-brotherhood.  

(JASMINE) Candles of Joy and Concern: 

Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us who or what you light your candle for. Come to the lectern to speak, so people can hear you. 

(in person candles)

And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.

(zoom candles)

And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)

(JASMINE) Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Marta Flanagan

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Marta Flanagan. You might want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,

   we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,

      as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom

         to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.

      Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the

         silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (short pause)

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, fill us this day

with your warmth, your power, your strength.

Help us to see our lives with a freshness born of the spirit.

Lift up the blessings: the loved ones,

the ones we treasure for simply being themselves —

the ones we laugh with, the ones who teach us to trust ourselves.

Hold close the ones who are ill this day,

those who feel the discouragement of the body.

Stand by those who know their time is limited.

Fill them and us with courage, with peace.

Release us from our burdens. We bring the memories of the past,

times when we fell short, times when we were hurt.

We have fears: worries of what will be and how we will make do.

We get carried away with small concerns: the daily issues that press upon us.

Help us to let go. Free us from those inner bonds which hold us back.

We look at ourselves:

the advantages we have been given,

the opportunities we have seized along the way.

Fill us with a sense of gratitude for the gifts that are ours:

knowledge, skill, capacity, and hard-won insight.

Nudge us to give back, to reach out —

sharing our talents, our riches, and ourselves

with those who are discouraged, disheartened, or simply unaware;

with the young, the old, the disadvantaged and dispossessed.

Grab our attention, seize us with the brightness of the day,

with the miracles of life itself, that we might be filled with

new passion, new resolve, heeding your quiet yet insistent call.

(pause for a few seconds)

And in a few minutes of quietness now, let us seek a higher perspective, a longer view;

starting right where we are, let us shift our awareness ever outward, in circles of concern.

Let us bring to mind those we know to be struggling this day – perhaps including ourselves –

those friends and family we hold dearest – our neighbours in community –

others around the globe we may only have heard about on the news.

And let us take time to send prayers of loving kindness to all who suffer. (longer pause – 30s)

Let us take stock of our own lives – the challenges we face – and our part in those difficulties –

perhaps we are all too aware of mistakes we have made, or missed opportunities –

times in this week where things didn’t turn out how we intended or had hoped.

And let us take time to ask for what we need to start afresh this week and do better. (longer pause – 30s)

Let us look back over the last week, taking time to notice what was good, to count our blessings –

all the ways in which others helped or encouraged us, inspired or delighted us –

all the goodness and beauty we have known even in the midst of struggle.

And let us take time to give prayers of thanks for all we have been given. (longer pause – 30s)

Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close, we offer up

   our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,

      and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.

As we look forward now to the coming week,

     help us to live well each day and be our best selves;

     using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.

(BRIAN) In-Person Reading: ‘The Long Walk’ by David S. Blanchard

The best story I ever heard about gift-giving has nothing to do with Christmas, and everything to do with Christmas.  It’s about a young boy in an African country who wanted to give a gift to his teacher, who was going home to England.  The child had no money and his options were few.  The day before the teacher was due to leave, the child brought her a huge seashell.  The teacher asked the boy where he could have found such a shell.  He told her there was only one spot where such extraordinary shells could be found, and when he named the place, a certain bay many miles away, the teacher was speechless.

“Why… why, it’s beautiful! … wonderful, but you shouldn’t have gone all that way to get a gift for me.” 

His eyes brightening, the boy answered, “The long walk is part of the gift.”

“The long walk is part of the gift.”  Most of the meaningful gifts we give to each other require some version of that “long walk”.  The long walk we sign on for with children, who need our patience, our wisdom, our honesty, and our trust more than we might first have imagined when their lives began.  The long walk we share with our spouses, which takes us through uncharted, unexpected territories of sickness and health, richer and poorer, better and worse.  The long walk we take with our friends when they are grieving the loss of someone they love, when they are ill, when they are discouraged.  The long walk of feeling a sense of unity with those whom prosperity has left behind.  The long walk of reconciliation with all that separates us from a deep sense of life’s great purpose and meaning.  “The long walk is part of the gift.”

When Christmas has been tidied up and packed away for another year, the gifts acknowledged, many already forgotten, the New Year stretches in front of us.  What will get us through those months, with all that they may hold, will not be the things in the boxes.  We must look to the hands of those who bought and wrapped and carried those gifts.  With their gifts, they are telling us something too wonderful, perhaps too embarrassing, for words.  They are telling us that, for us, they will take the long walk. 

So when you open the box and find the long underwear, the fruitcake, the pot holder, or the seashell from a distant ocean, remember that it’s not just “the thought” that counts.  Remember too, “the long walk is part of the gift”. 

(BRIAN) Hymn 298 (grey): ‘Wake, Now, My Senses’

Let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 298 in your grey hymn book – ‘Wake, Now, My Senses’. The first 3 verses are with the music and then there are two more verses underneath.

Wake, now, my senses, and hear the earth call;

feel the deep power of being in all;

keep with the web of creation your vow,

giving, receiving as love shows us how.

Wake, now, my reason, reach out to the new;

join with each pilgrim who quests for the true;

honour the beauty and wisdom of time;

suffer thy limit, and praise the sublime.

Wake, now, compassion, give heed to the cry;

voices of suffering fill the wide sky;

take as your neighbour both stranger and friend,

praying and striving their hardship to end.

Wake, now, my conscience, with justice thy guide;

join with all people whose rights are denied;

take not for granted a privileged place;

God's love embraces the whole human race.

Wake, now, my vision of ministry clear;

brighten my pathway with radiance here;

mingle my calling with all who would share;

work toward a planet transformed by our care.

(LIZ) In-Person Reflection: ‘The Gift of Encouragement’ by Liz Tuckwell

When Jane asked us to write something about times when someone has given you a significant gift that didn’t involve spending money on a thing – at first I couldn’t think of anything. A gift that was both free and significant? My mind went blank. I’m sure there have been times, but I just couldn’t think of any. I reread Jane’s email. I thought some more about it.

First one memory of a significant gift came to me and then another. I’d started thinking I hadn’t really had any free significant gifts and then realised that I’d had several. I can only hope I was appropriately grateful at the time. I certainly am grateful now when I look back.

The particular significant gift I want to talk about was when I was learning to drive. I only started to learn when I was thirty and it took me quite a while to get the hang of driving. I ended up taking six driving tests before I passed, and one of the main reasons was I was so nervous and each failure made me more worried about the next time. (Another reason was that my first driving instructor wasn’t very good at his job but that’s another story). I felt that everybody else in the world had passed first time and I started to think that I would never pass my driving test and perhaps should just give up.

My manager at the time, Ros, was very encouraging and supportive. She reassured me that it didn’t matter how long I took to pass, the important thing was passing. That once I had passed, it wouldn’t matter how long it had taken. It was a valuable lesson that I learned right there. After I learnt, I started using my car for work. Occasionally, I’d give Ros a lift. I was anxious about having someone else in the car, worried about being criticised about how I was driving. But Ros showed me she trusted me by not offering advice or making comments. I now realise how much self-control that took! Her trust gave me much more confidence in my driving.

It was a gift of encouragement and support that I’ve never forgotten.

(DAVID) In-Person Reflection: ‘A Gift from Beyond the Grave’ by David Brewerton

A few months ago, Patricia and I were visiting a friend who now lives in Cambridge. Just as we were leaving, she said to me: “I’ve got something I should have given you before.”

Then she put this tiny picture in my hand. It is probably too small for most of you to see what it is, but it is a painting of a small boat on a salt marsh. There are words written around the edges of the canvas frame. Now, some of my friends here will know that I have been obsessed with small boats for many decades. I have sailed them, rowed them, motored them but above all, enjoyed them. I have also loved photographing “dead boats”. There is something about the way they rot and fall to pieces that has a beauty all of its own.

The picture was painted by our friend Rosemary’s husband, who died over two years ago. Rosemary and Tony were both talented artists.  We all four were friends, and the friendships led to complications which could easily have brought it all down. But the friendship survived and grew, and my last memory of Tony before he died was being in their little house in Cambridge trying to fix a leak in the feeding tube that was keeping him alive.

So moved was I by this gesture of friendship from beyond the grave that few days pass when I don’t pick up the tiny, beautiful, picture from where it lives on a windowsill near my study and read around the edge.  “Soaked by each creeping tide, it creaked, it croaked. Someone died.”

Boats can take a long time to die, and when they finally collapse as the nails that hold them together rust away and the wood rots, they frequently leave an impression in the mud berth that had been their final resting place.

Many artists like to paint small boats. An East Anglian artist, James Dodds, devoted a whole, beautiful book to such pictures. It is called The Blue Boat. I have a copy and that was another unexpected present from another friend. The tapered curve of their ribs, the way the planks sit together, shapes that seem to echo the graceful contours of the sea itself. But the boat in Tony’s picture is not one of those beauties. It is a chunky little thing, maybe home-made, and already it has begun to fall apart.

So far as I know, unlike me, Tony was not a lover of boats. I will never know why he painted this picture that has become so important to me.  Was it a real boat? If so, on which lonely marsh did it finally collapse and die. Or was it painted from Tony’s imagination? Did he paint it for me? I suppose it doesn’t matter.

(BRIAN) Words for Meditation: ‘Winter Morning’ by James Crews

We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share a poem, on gratitude for life’s gifts, by James Crews.  This will take us into a few minutes of shared silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear music for meditation.  So let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – maybe adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – you might like to close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘Winter Morning’ by James Crews

When I can no longer say thank you

for this new day and the waking into it,

for the cold scrape of the kitchen chair

and the ticking of the space heater glowing

orange as it warms the floor near my feet,

I know it’s because I’ve been fooled again

by the selfish, unruly man who lives in me

and believes he deserves only safety

and comfort. But if I pause as I do now,

and watch the streetlights outside flashing

off one by one like old men blinking their

cloudy eyes, if I listen to my tired neighbours

slamming car doors hard against the morning

and see the steaming coffee in their mugs

kissing chapped lips as they sip and

exhale each of their worries white into

the icy air around their faces—then I can

remember this one life is a gift each of us

was handed and told to open: Untie the bow

and tear off the paper, look inside

and be grateful for whatever you find

even if it is only the scent of a tangerine

that lingers on the fingers long after

you’ve finished peeling it.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell  

Interlude: Grieg - Dank/Gratitude (performed by Georgia Dawson and George Ireland) 

(CHARLOTTE) ONLINE Reflection: ‘The Gifts that Mean Most’ by Charlotte Chanteloup

For Christmas 2017, I made a small book for my mum with at least a dozen reasons why I loved her/she was a great mum (I felt a bit silly doing that as a 25yo!). The artistic value was close to zero as I’m not very good with my hands. She said thank you, but I felt like she was underwhelmed by the present. She kept it with other souvenirs on display though, so she must have liked it well enough! This summer, when I finally looked through her computer, I saw that she’d taken pictures of every page in the book and kept them… I guess she liked it! I don’t remember exactly what I wrote but I have the pictures still!

My dad is a particularly hard man to shop for: he has everything he wants and doesn’t want any more stuff. So, for his birthday last year, I took him to a viewing of Amadeus with a live orchestra performance. I’d asked him if he wanted to go 6 months before as a birthday present. He said yes but didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it. When I forwarded him the email with the booking confirmation, he managed to lose it. It was lucky that he hadn’t planned anything for that evening because he’d completely forgotten when I reminded him two months before the concert! Anyway, we ended up going. It was taking place on a Friday evening in Paris. He picked me up from school and we joked about what a throwback that was! We had a lovely dinner and an amazing time. So, this year, for my birthday, we’re going to see Pirates of the Caribbean with a live orchestra! (I tried to convince him to see Fellowship of the Ring, but that was a step too far!).

As a teacher, it’s become more common to receive gifts at the end of the school year or for Christmas. Every year, I try to impress on my students that I don’t care about receiving chocolate: I can buy it myself, I know my tastes better, and once I’ve eaten it, I barely remember it was gifted to me! Instead, I prefer receiving drawings and notes from my students. While I have received chocolate, candles (and even perfume!), last year I received drawing and notes from most of my students. They are in folders, and I love thinking of my past students and how much fun we had learning together!

My nieces are still too small to make art, but my godson and his sister make me drawings regularly. I’m always delighted to put their masterpieces up on the fridge. I think of them every time I see their drawings.

All of these gifts from me or for me are about showing people I appreciate them or that they appreciate me. It’s about building connections and memories.

(ROY) In-Person Reflection: ‘The Gifts of a Gentleman’ by Roy Clark

When l was young l was a very keen Boy Scout. Any former Scout or Girl Guide among you will know that one of the things you did as a member of those groups was to try to acquire badges to proudly sew onto your uniform showing your proficiency in various skills whether it be tying knots, cooking, identifying trees and plants, reading maps... or in this case learning about the stars. For it was in pursuit of my Astronomers badge that l met Arthur Thomas. He was the teacher and examiner for this coveted award.

I don't think l had ever encountered anyone quite like Arthur. He is the gift l want to tell you about.

One clear evening in the Spring of 1974, l arrived at his house, and we took from its box and set up an enormous brass telescope. Pretty soon l was gazing at the Moon through the viewfinder. The experience was breathtaking. Instead of the smooth disk seen from Earth, l witnessed a three-dimensional, heavily pockmarked world, where the craters and mountain ranges appeared incredibly sharp and close. It was a truly memorable moment.

When l left later that evening, he told me l was welcome to visit him anytime... so l did. Further visits as well as continually sparking a sense of wonder about the vastness of space also resulted in discovering further wonders ... in his house. Antimacassars on the armchairs, ceramic electrical plugs and sockets. He kept his telephone, an antique Bakelite model in the walk-in closet under the stairs. A little bell in the hall would ring if a call was coming in. Oh, and he had a pianola in the Drawing room which he taught me how to play.

I never saw Arthur dressed in anything but a smart jacket and tie. I later discovered he didn't wear a belt but buttons and braces and shirts with separate collars. When l visited, we generally had High Tea replete with a full Royal Albert tea set and fishpaste sandwiches, quite a change from the teatime arrangements of a working-class lad like me.  An Edwardian through and through, he had what l would characterise as a Christian Socialist outlook. He was deeply concerned with improving the lot of the most vulnerable and disadvantaged in society. He championed the role of education and fairness in providing all people with the essential tools and opportunity to determine their own future. I think he would like you lot!

I visited Arthur nearly every week or later on when l had left home, whenever l could. The years passed. In the summer we would sit in deck chairs in his big back garden... in the winter sit in his kitchen roasting chestnuts on his open fire. I took other friends too who were always welcomed with the same open-hearted friendliness and courtesy. And the stories...  Countless tales about growing up in Hastings. He was born there in 1879 and his father and before him Grandfather had been pioneer Victorian photographers in the town. He still had all of their equipment and examples of their work... it was fascinating.

On top of his myriad other skills, he was a master carpenter. He had a fully equipped workshop in the garage with beautiful hand turned tools that would be in a museum now. He had been ship's carpenter on a battleship having served in the navy in WW1. A very important role as ships were made of Iron and wood back then. He spoke Spanish, having visited Spain every summer for his holidays leading up to the Spanish civil war.... a keen swimmer, he taught all the local youths the then new-fangled Australian Crawl. Arthur never married but had courted at least one lady friend whom he had met in Spain in those years. Who knows, perhaps if General Franco had not intervened his life may have taken a different direction.

Professionally, he had been a school teacher or Schoolmaster as he would have put it. He and his whole class were evacuated during WW2... and to his delight it was to Worthing not far round the coast from his beloved Hastings. One of his other passions was Archaeology especially that of the Middle Ages and in particular that of Sussex. He was a founder member of the Sussex Archaeology Society whose headquarters l have recently discovered is situated in Lewes where my daughter lives and l often visit.

The thing is he never sought to teach me anything in the form of a lesson. He was just genuinely curious about my life, about my day. He treated my teenage struggles with the same weight and respect he gave to world events. As a direct result of countless hours of his quiet, generous wisdom, I learnt so much about ancient history and social history too. Plus, l developed perspective, critical thinking, patience. Arthur passed away quietly in his sleep not long after his 102nd birthday.

As the years have passed since l have come to realise more and more the profound and lasting influence he had on me, the seeds of learning he planted, the goodness he instilled in my young mind. What a teacher to guide the fledgling human spirit. Arthur was a Gentleman in the purest meaning of that term... a gentle man was he.

(JASMINE) In-Person Reflection: ‘The Gift of Time’ by Jasmine Cooray

When I think about gifts, the most obvious thing to me is time. I’ve been fortunate many times in my life to have been given time by people. When bereaved, I have had friends come and sit with me, do the washing up, come with me to a funeral. The reason I think this is special is that it requires someone to be able to bear discomfort and not run away.

I’ve not just been gifted time in these moments. I’ve also been given time to move my way through confusion and challenges and questionable decisions. Time to work things out on my own, time to try things out. How should I navigate a relationship, a new job, how should I deal with loss or disappointment? How should I pick myself up when all seems lost? I recognise now, having witnessed others do the same, that it takes a certain kind of grace to be alongside someone while they work something out. It would be all too easy to try to hurry them, to try and give them the answers, to try and rush them out of the sloshy mess and back onto dry land. Its a particularly hard thing to do when you think the mess could have been avoided - if they just heeded your warnings, if they just went about things more rationally, with more awareness, etc. I’ve made so many poor choices, rushing in, idealistic, desperate or impulsive. I’m sure it has been difficult to watch from the outside, frustrating even.

But I was lucky to have people be patient and kind, steady alongside in the mess, grief, confusion. Encouraging when I was full of hope, sympathetic when things didn't turn out well. That’s meant more to me than any material gift. Because if I imagined that the consequence of making mistakes, or of being vulnerable, was to end up alone and with noone, then life really would be impossible to bear.

(JASMINE) Hymn 228 (grey): ‘Once in Royal David’s City’

Time for one last hymn now and in fact it’s a Christmas carol – number 228 in your grey books – think of it as a warm up for our carol service next week – ‘Once in Royal David’s City’. Hymn 228.

Once in royal David’s city

Stood a lowly cattle shed,

Where a mother laid her baby

In a manger for his bed;

So may we when life turns hard

Find in love our stay and guard.

Shepherds came to see this wonder,

And to kneel in holy awe

At that lowly stable manger

Where the infant lay on straw;

So may we this happy morn

Honour every child that’s born.

From afar three magi journeyed

To that stable rude and bare,

To pay homage to the infant

Off’ring gifts both rich and rare;

So may we our gifts bestow,

Whether we be high or low.

In that happy Christmas spirit,

Hear the angels from on high

Sing their ancient salutations:

Joy’s a gift you cannot buy.

So may we, with heart that sings,

Share the truth this season brings.

(LIZ) Announcements:

Thanks to David, Charlotte, Roy and Jasmine for their reflections. Thanks to Brian and Jasmine for helping to lead the service. Thanks to Jane for hosting and Charlotte for co-hosting. Thanks to Georgia and George for lovely music and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to John for greeting and Pat and Anna for making coffee. If you are in-person do stay for cake (Jane has made pink lemonade cake and plum, hazelnut and chocolate cake). Once you’ve had your cake you can come back in here for yoga with Hannah at 12.30.

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on ‘Angels’ – email Jane if you want to join.

This coming Wednesday, 17^th, we have a midwinter labyrinth mini-retreat evening here in person with Jane and Sarah – please drop Jane an email to let her know if you plan to come – it’ll be a cosy evening of sharing and reflection and we will make sure we have some treats and snacks to share.

At the end of the month the Better World Book Club is talking about ‘Listen: How to Find the Words for Tender Conversations’ by Kathryn Mannix. I think we have one copy left to loan out.

Next Sunday we’ve got our big carol service – let me (Liz) know what you’re planning to bring for the bring-and-share lunch after – and we also have our candlelit teatime service on Christmas Eve featuring a brass quintet. We’ll have our usual new year’s mini-retreat, you can come in-person on Sunday 28^th, or online on New Year’s Day, or both if you like! Sign up with Jane for these events.

And our winter newsletter is here! Please do take a copy if you haven’t already got one.  

Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email.  The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.  

(LIZ) Benediction: based on words by Barbara Cheatham

And now we take our leave.

Before we gather here again—

may each of us bring happiness into another’s life;

may we each be surprised by the gifts that surround us;

may each of us be enlivened by constant curiosity —

And may we remain together in spirit

til the hour we meet again. Amen.

Closing Music: Copland - Simple Gifts (performed by Georgia Dawson and George Ireland) 

Members of the Congregation

14th December 2025