‘I used to do the bins around here,’ I said to my 11 year old daughter as we made a steady approach towards the serpentine village of Pen-y-Bont-Fawr; a passing on our way to St Melangell’s Church. My daughter took
Orthodox Crossing: David and the Theophanic Briefcase
Sometimes, perhaps often, I forget to thank David for his leading the choir and the infectious sight of him dinging a tuning fork into his head to find that sympathy of tone, which in the time it takes grace to
Symbolic gestures are always going off all over the place, in parallel to ourselves, like the unseen realm itself. My right hand and entire arm was most certainly animated when I ripped the starter cord off of a lawn mower
On Sunday the 23rd of April Presvytera Catherine retired from thirty-seven years of devotion to our church and the wide reach of its parish. To be precise, that is only five years less than I have been alive, so when
During the passing of the ambient sun of Lazarus Saturday, the lovingly be-haired Young Joseph was baptised through our church into the ever-loving mystery of Christ’s salvation. Joseph Llewellyn-Jones had been attending church and catechumen classes from before my family
