Chapter 1: Lucy

Book 2:

For Better, For Worse

December 2042

The Crown Nominations Commission were gathered, a shadow behind stained glass on which the eyes of the Anglican Communion were trained. It was a process of utmost secrecy, every care taken to avoid a leak. In spite of Lizzie’s protestations, Marcella had started to pack.

It's nine month's since Richard's resignation. The vacancy in Canterbury has been filled - not by Ruth, as many suspected, but by the Bishop of London, Lizzie Graves. Up in York, Ruth is still Archbishop, still surrounded by many of the same crew. Not Tom, of course, who's in Nottingham, with a new job and a new life; we'll see lots more of him soon. First, though, let's begin with someone else you might remember...

Chapter 1: Lucy

Lucy Green was driving. She did not particularly enjoy driving, but it was getting easier with familiarity. Just so long as there weren’t any tractors. Please, God, no tractors.

Five minutes later, she eased the car down from halfway up the grass verge and went on, the tractor shrinking into the distance in her rear view mirror and then disappearing as she turned a corner. Windscreen wipers working hard, she peered through the grey haze. Self-driving cars were a wonderful invention, but unfortunately a curate’s stipend didn’t quite stretch to one. Instead, she got the pleasure of having her arms shaken to pieces as she held the wheel steady over the ruts in the road.

Rural ministry, woo. She didn’t let herself think of how things could have been – that accomplished nothing. She wasn’t still in an evangelical parish in the middle of York, and given how that had ended, it was probably for the best. Instead, she had a lovely mixed bag of twelve churches, as part of a team ministry with her training incumbent and two retired priests. Everything from medium low to very, very high. So far Tim had let her focus mostly on the low-church end, though she’d probably end up doing more in the traditional ones once she was a priest. Once, if?

She walked up the steps and through the front door of Bishopthorpe with some trepidation in her stomach. The last time she’d seen Archbishop Ruth had been early October, just after her priesting should have been. She couldn’t remember exactly what they’d said, she’d still been so out of it.

“Morning, Lucy. Good to see you again. Come on through. How are you?”

“Good morning.” Lucy still wasn't confident with how to address the archbishop, so avoided it entirely. “I'm fine thanks. How are you?”

Ruth directed her to a chair. “It’s lovely to see you looking so much better. Come and sit down and tell me how it’s all going.”

Lucy did as she was told, waiting while Ruth asked her PA to bring tea. Then she watched the archbishop sit back, hands steepled together, looking across with a kindness which seemed so at odds with her reputation, and which Lucy never knew quite how to respond to.

How was everything going? She thought for a minute. “Um, it’s busy. Interesting. I feel like I’m just about building up some kind of flow. Tim’s great.”

“Good. I’ve had good reports from Tim, Angela, and Janice, so you needn't worry on that front. So, ordination. Obviously we’ve talked a lot about it already, but… with all that’s happened since, we’re not going to go charging on as though three months hadn’t passed. How are you feeling?”

Lucy shrugged, looking for words. "I'm fine. Looking... forward to it."

Ruth looked at her for a minute, clearly waiting for more.

“I just… try not to think about it too much. After last time. Sorry.”

“Of course. That’s going to colour your approach this time, but try not to dwell too much – I know that’s easier said than done.”

“I just think… never mind.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’ll believe it’s happening until it does.”

“You just think… go on…”

“Just, like…” Ruth was hard to lie to, or maybe Lucy was just useless at lying. “Maybe God doesn’t want me to be ordained. It’s been put off twice.” And saying that wouldn't exactly help her cause.

“You’ve just been very unlucky. Michaelmas ordinations aren’t that rare, and what happened then… was just really bad luck. And, you know, trying to ignore health concerns has a tendency to backfire.”

Lucy squirmed. “I was going to go to the doctor, just the following week. It should have been okay, just…”

Ruth held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, I wasn't trying to tell you off. You certainly suffered far more than your fair share of consequences for that, and it was just bad luck, not God trying to hold you back. Suffering, illness, unexpected setbacks… they aren’t necessarily part of God’s plan, but God won’t be beaten by them. Just because you’ve had to wait six months longer than expected doesn’t mean you won’t become a priest.”

“I know.”

“It’s hard to believe sometimes, I know. Are you ready for retreat?”

Lucy shrugged. “I try to think about my deaconing one but… there were more of us then, this time will be more like September. And… I don’t really know. Sorry, I’m not making sense.”

“You are, at least well enough. So you’re struggling with memories.”

Lucy nodded. “And I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate.”

“It’s not about concentrating, it’s about stopping. You’ve had plenty of time for reflection throughout curacy. Brother Robert will be leading your retreat, he’s wonderful and I’m sure he’ll do his best to help you relax and trust. You’ve had a lot of challenges which no doubt make that harder, but it’s what you need to do. Trust, it’ll be okay. I will continue to pray for you, and I'll see you on Friday night to give you my charge. We can talk then if you need to.”

Lucy stared at a picture on the wall, a painting of a dove. “I never really said thanks for… visiting me. In hospital.”

“You gave us a bit of a fright.” Ruth smiled at her. “I knew it would be hard, bad enough feeling sick and miserable without knowing that you were missing something you’d been looking forward to. Of course my afternoon was unexpectedly free. Anyway, no need to thank me, I’m just glad to see you so much better.”

“I must be the most trouble of any curate you’ve had to deal with.”

Ruth shook her head. “Not at all. Pastoral care is not a chore for me... and anyway, I like talking to you. Is Tim still being nice to you?”

Lucy cracked a smile at her training incumbent's name. “Tim’s great. I’m getting used to all the,” she waved a hand, “tradition stuff. And I’m organising an evening service at St Luke’s every month, we’ve put together a band and everything, some of the local children are involved. If I actually get priested this time my first celebration of the Eucharist will be there – not St James like we were planning last time, I wasn’t doing so much in St Luke’s then. Planned the service with the youth group, it’s been a good reason to talk about Communion with them at least.” So if it didn’t happen, it wasn’t all wasted. After all, wasn’t all the fun in the planning? Right?

“That sounds wonderful. And you’re confident in all of the teaching you’ve received, to be able to pass it on to them?”

“Between Tim, Mark, college, and diocesan days, I’ve had a lot of different takes, so yeah.”

Ruth nodded. “I’m sure. And how are you feeling about presiding, probably the signature duty and privilege of a priest?”

“I… can’t really imagine it. I mean, I practised with Tim back in September, before everything, but I guess it’s different when it’s… for real. Like serving at the altar is different from walking through beforehand. I don’t know.” Should she feel more strongly? She’d been looking forward to it, in September, but everything was weird this second time around. She tried not to think about any of it too much. She’d turned down Tim’s suggested rehearsals.

“Perfectly fair. I won’t give you any advice or anything - I’m sure you’ve had plenty of that already - only tell you that it is still the part of my ministry now which means most to me, tying together Bishopthorpe chapel, the Minster, and churches all over the Province – internationally, even. Feeding people, and bringing them together, and bringing them into that intimate relationship with Christ... it’s a wonderful gift – to me, especially, that I can offer it. And it is at its heart worship, the oldest and most powerful worship the Church can offer, something you must never forget when you stand at the altar.”

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to answer.

“I expect you’re starting to build up an image of what form your ministry will take after curacy? I know it’s two or three years away, but still. Unless you really are managing to live in the present.”

Lucy avoided her eyes. “I don’t think ahead really, actually. Not too much. Except that if everything goes wrong, I’m going to do children’s work. Maybe primary school teaching.”

“You can make youth work your focus within ordained ministry too, if that’s what you feel called to.”

“Of course.” She looked down, resisting the temptation to chew on her hair. It was a bad habit she’d picked up, which Tim had pointed out plenty of times. She picked at her collar instead.

“You still don't believe you're going to be a priest next week, do you?”

Lucy carried on picking at her collar. “I just don’t want to take it for granted.”

“Oh Lucy.” Ruth shook her head. “Six months isn’t that long, really. You’re not the first to have your ordination postponed over illness.”

“I know.” Try not to sound too defensive. Ruth meant well, it was just – ugh, easier to try to forget. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. God doesn’t really allow for forward planning.”

Ruth looked at her as if longing to argue but only shook her head. “True enough, sometimes. But that’s not always something to be afraid of, it can be exciting.”

“I know.”

This wasn't how to speak to your bishop, Lucy thought, as Ruth looked at her in silence for a minute.

“You’re still reflecting regularly with Tim and with your spiritual director?”

Lucy nodded.

“Being honest? With them and with yourself?”

“Trying.” Sometimes. She pulled her collar tab most of the way out, and then back in again.

“I can hardly ask more than that. I’m really sorry that you’re going through all of this, that it’s causing you to struggle with what should be an exciting time for you. But let me reassure you that God’s love for you is not tied up in any actions or events, it is not subject to you being a deacon or becoming a priest, it does not depend on you following what you currently see to be your path. And while I hate to offer any kind of support to the idea that your ordination will be delayed again – I fully expect to ordain you next Saturday – it is important to remember that if it is, there’s no condemnation. I’ve known people drop out from ordination very late in, realising that God is in fact leading them elsewhere, and often their ministerial formation is valuable as a part of that path. I don’t believe this will be the case with you; I would agree, as would the others involved in your formation, that you have a genuine vocation to the priesthood. However my reminder to you is that there is nothing you can do to make God’s plan for you impossible, if you are willing. God is bigger than any mistakes we may make, or misfortune we may suffer - which is a great reassurance.”

Lucy released her collar to play with her bracelet instead. A gift from a friend, engraved with the words 'I have called you by name'.

“I kind of… know, but I’m not sure I always believe it?”

“Of course.” Ruth met her eyes with a gentle smile. “It’s still true, even if you’re not sure.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Ruth nodded slowly. “Take care of yourself. I'll see you on Friday.”

Lucy said goodbye and headed out, a sense of relief as she got back into her car. She took a minute to shove her clerical collar into the cup holder and turn on the radio. It was wall-to-wall Christmas pop songs, and Lucy bit her lip to hold back tears, focusing on checking her mirrors and pulling out of the parking spot. It would be okay, everyone said it would be okay. She just had to try and believe it.

© 2021 E.G. Ferguson