There were a lot of photos before they could go inside, a lot more handshakes and greetings and watching Tom face wave after wave of well-meaning friends. Such a buzz, although Ruth was starting to flag, and she hung back near the door with Isla and Julia. It was too hot for vestments, even if they ought to be glad that it was sun instead of rain. They at least needed to divest of a few layers, take five minutes to process, and then they might be able to face this reception. Sadly, that opportunity hadn't been afforded them.
Tom had shot her a couple of desperate looks already, but she waited until most of the congregation had departed before she relented, descending to join him and give him an excuse to end his conversations. Then she steered him away quietly, beckoning Megan and the children to follow, through the open door into the cool of the building.
“Right. Time to get that lot off and take ten minutes.” She glanced round at his family. “Yes, do come, see the inner sanctum and all that. Oh yes, Tom, you’re discovering the downside to croziers… there are many reasons for keeping chaplains around.” She slowed down so that he could walk with it without tripping up.
In the vestry, she watched him unscrew the crozier and lay each part in its case, and then remove vestments with clear relief. Megan was at his side already, finding his hangers and hanging each piece up. Ruth focused on herself, filled with a great relief as she removed at last the heavy chasuble, then alb, then cassock, then at last replaced the cross around her neck and hooked it to her shirt. She raised an eyebrow at Tom, as reluctantly he replaced his own. “Just wait until people start kissing your ring…”
He groaned. “People do that?”
“Rarely. Very rarely.”
“That’s something.”
“I love your cross, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s very much… yours.” She smiled. “That’s a good thing. And it’ll also be a conversation starter.”
“Great.”
She picked up her mitre and he looked at her balefully, getting in before she said anything. “No.”
“You haven’t ordered yours yet, have you?”
“No.”
“You’ll need it, sorry. Cope and mitre. You have the clothing allowance already, you have to use it.”
“I know.”
She opened a pocket of her case. “I’m not going to ask you to try on my York one, obviously, but… I brought my plain one.”
“I said no?”
“Go on. Just see what it feels like. Better now than just before you walk into your installation service.”
He groaned and held out a hand, shaking his head with the smallest smile as she gave it to him. “Lesson one of being a bishop’s chaplain?”
"Hooky bit towards you?"
"Fine, lesson two..."
She rolled her eyes. “I know. Sorry.”
“I’ll pretend I don’t know that was deliberate.” He turned it round in his hands and tried to swing it up onto his head. “Okay, that’s harder than it looks.” He glared at Megan, who’d snorted audibly.
“It is.” Ruth took her own and demonstrated, feeling the lappets fall to lie perfectly down the back of her head. “Takes a bit of practice.”
She had to give it to him, he persevered, and managed on his third attempt. Not smooth and effortless, perhaps, but it was a good start.
“You can confirm me now?”
“We talked about this, Mika…” Tom shook his head at her, cautiously in wariness of the mitre, and then glanced back at Ruth. “Am I allowed to take this off now?”
“Go on.” She held out a hand to take it from him and nodded sympathetically. “Go take a quiet ten minutes. The crypt’s especially cool and lovely right now.”
He held out a hand. “Come on, Mika, tour time. Or at least, come and sit in a chapel with me time…”
“Quiet, like Godmummy Ruth said?”
“Exactly. Daddy needs a rest after all that excitement.”
“Is it hard, becoming a bishop? I mean, it was Godmummy Ruth having to do lots of talking…”
“Yes, she did, but I had to do lots of listening and thinking and praying, and that’s tiring too. And besides, it’s very strange becoming a bishop. You need time to get used to it.”
“Well, you look like a bishop. I mean, you’re still dad, but you’re a bishop too.”
“Yeah.”
“Why do bishops get to wear purple shirts, anyway? Like deacons don’t wear different to priests…”
“We said quiet time, Mika…”
Ruth shook her head as he faded from hearing, then looked up at Megan who had hung back. “Megan. How are you feeling?”
She shrugged. “I guess… I dunno. It’s happened, he can’t back out now.”
“And he’s taking it remarkably well.”
She swallowed. “Can I… talk to you?”
Ruth returned both mitres to her case and zipped it up. “Sure. Want to go and sit down?”
Megan just shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. Up to you. Just… five minutes, while Tom’s having some quiet time.”
“Sure. Just step through here, we can sit down…” She settled herself, and then watched Megan perch awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “What can I do for you?”
Megan licked her lips. “Sorry to… I shouldn’t really be bothering you…”
“Go for it.”
“I’m applying for jobs.” She licked her lips again. “I haven’t talked to Tom about it, though…”
Ruth nodded slowly. “Right. I presume you intend to?”
“Yeah.”
“Just not got round to it yet?”
“Yeah.”
Ruth looked at her thoughtfully, waiting for elaboration.
“Obviously I… I will, just I’m trying to figure things out. And he’s got so much figuring out to do himself right now, everything’s changing. And it’s hard for the kids too, with moving and him changing job and all that. And, like, we promised from the start we’d put them first, make sure they have a stable home. You know, given what they come from. And I don’t want to upset things even more, but…” she swallowed. “You know I went for ordination?”
“I do, yes, and I’m sorry about how that ended. Do you still believe you’re called to follow that path?”
She shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Has the diocese been supportive?”
“Not really. I kind of… didn’t want to talk to them. After it happened. And it was always weird, them being Tom's colleagues.”
“Understandable. But now you’re starting to wonder again.”
“Yeah.” She looked at her hands. “You know, I kind of thought… you know Grace? Our… the baby?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I kind of thought… when I was pregnant…” She rubbed her eyes impatiently. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You thought that might be your vocation?”
“Yeah.”
“And then that was taken away, too.”
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re back to wondering again.”
“Yeah.” Megan laughed bitterly. “Sorry. Shouldn’t be making a thing about it when we’re all meant to be celebrating Tom.”
“That’s fine.”
“It’s just, like, I keep thinking… he knows what he’s called to. Each new step, it’s happening. Everyone’s affirming it, even when he’s so reluctant himself. And I want to find my vocation, but, like…”
Ruth nodded. “Absolutely. Of course.” She wove her fingers together. “Obviously, this is something you’re going to need to pursue. I’m afraid we’re not going to have long now, so I’m not going to be able to help you as much as I’d like to, though of course you can always contact me - especially as I am one of the few people who will not be at all bothered by your status as a bishop's spouse. So, vocation. I’m assuming you don’t know what you’re called to, right now…”
“Not anymore.”
“But you know you’re called to something. Which is the first step. And what you need to do now is to work through some exercises, perhaps with a vocations advisor – working out what your skills are, which parts of your life you enjoy, what makes you feel close to God. And then trying to figure out how to use that to do God’s work on Earth. And, of course, pray through the whole process, listening for the still small voice of God.”
“I know I should talk to Tom.”
“Not really. Well, you shouldn’t be hiding things from him, you shouldn’t feel any need to and it’ll only make it harder later. But you don’t have to confide or seek his advice, and I doubt he’ll be hurt if you don’t. Find somebody else, someone outside. You can go through your parish priest when you find a parish in Sheffield, or Tom will be able to point you to the right person, or you can find them yourself. I don’t know who the right person would be in your case – perhaps a spiritual director, perhaps a vocations advisor, perhaps someone else – but make contact with somebody in the diocese and they should send you the right way.”
Megan picked at her fingernails. “What if it’s not in the Church?”
“It’s a calling from God, right?”
“Yeah. I hope so, anyway.”
“Well, the Church’s vocations processes shouldn’t just be about ordained ministry and religious life. Even licensed lay ministry. Yes, perhaps we focus a little too much on that – on treating it like recruitment, if you like – but at its heart the Church’s mission should be all about enabling the people of God to live out their different callings in the world. That includes helping people to find those callings. Just as they should have done after you were rejected by your selection panel.”
“If I hadn’t pushed them away.” Megan carried on picking. “I was so sure. What if I’m wrong again?”
Ruth shook her head. “I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like. My path here’s been… pretty easy, really. At least, figuring things out myself has been difficult, but others have affirmed me all the way. So what can I say, really? Except trust that God is in control, and try to enjoy the journey without worrying too much about the destination? Easier said than done, I know…” Tom appeared around the East end as she spoke, children gathered around, and Ruth watched him out of the corner of her eye. “Do you want to pretend this is just a casual conversation?”
“Thanks.” Megan shook her head and gave a short laugh. “Sorry, I was going to leave it, not worry about any of this until after we’re settled in Sheffield. Not while everything’s so busy with Tom.”
“Sometimes it just has to come out.”
“Yeah.”
“We can find a time to talk more if you want, just email or drop me a text, and certainly I’ll keep you in my prayers. So, you’re managing to look forward to Sheffield?”
Megan pulled a face, but was saved the need to answer by the descent of Mika. Ruth stood and smiled at them all. “So. Going out for dinner?”
“All booked. Might check in to the hotel first and change.”
“Ah, you’ve only just got that lot on…”
“And the sooner it’s off again the better.”
“Get used to it.”
“No?”
“Alright, relax for the evening, I guess.”
“Thank you for your permission…”
She rolled her eyes. “Have a great evening. Take it easy. You’re staying in York tonight?”
“Last minute decision. Mars is done with exams and we’ve told them Mika won’t be in tomorrow.”
“Very sensible, make the most of it.”
“It’s been a long day.”
It certainly had, thought Ruth, as she rejoined the ever-patient Isla and followed her out to the car.
“Bishopthorpe?”
“Please. Thank you. Sorry.”
“Get in.”
Ruth swung herself into the passenger seat and leant back. “Home. Please. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Sure.” The chaplain glanced across as the car pulled out of the space. “You okay? You look… well, on edge.”
“I’ll be fine.” Ruth closed her eyes. “That was an awful lot of awesome for one day.”
“In the truest sense of the word.”
“Indeed.”
Isla tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as they drove through the familiar streets. “Got a relaxing evening planned, at least?”
“Walk around the grounds. Dinner. Cuddles with dog. Sleep.”
“Sounds perfect. Sorry, I’ll shut up and let you process?”
“Mmm. Thanks.”
Process, indeed. Like she could process today. What she really wanted to do, though, was easy: to relive that moment. The taste of the words in her mouth, the electric in her hands as they rested on Tom’s head, the presence of God all around. Though they were only memories, they contained the shadow of God, just like the afterimage burnt onto the retina when one turned away after looking at the sun. Yes, that’s what it was like: like looking at the sun.
And then celebrating the Eucharist, that Holy Mystery on which she had written so much, which however hard she tried still refused to be held by words. However great Tom’s ordination in human terms, in God’s terms this gift was greater, this gift offered not to the select few but to all. That was how God worked, wasn’t it? The greater the gift, the more widely it was shared. This promise, this life, that was for everyone…
…and God offered it through her hands. Her hands, which blessed bread and wine, just as Christ himself had done. Her hands, carrying this precious sacrament, entrusting it to all who came, feeding them with the bread of life, in all their pain and suffering and heartbreak. And she was going to retire. Step away from this wonderful life to which God had called her – and yes, she would offer the Eucharist, at other altars. But what would it be like, returning to a life like that? Never again to lead a service of this kind, to preside over such an outpouring of the Church’s joy. It was such a privilege, and she was letting it go. She looked out of the window, seeing Bishopthorpe looming up ahead, the home which she was about to leave.
“Thanks, Isla.”
She took her case and crozier and climbed the stairs slowly. She was going to miss it, so much. Wonderful, wonderful days like this… such a gift, and she was letting it go. Retirement, rest… what did she even want with rest, when there was so much wonder to be had? When there was so much life? To step back, save that energy… what was it for, but to be used?
She leant the crozier against the wall and fumbled with her key, letting herself in. Placed the crozier inside, against a wall, left the case in the hall and picked up the dog lead instead. Stifled a yawn, groaned at the onset of exhaustion. But it was better to get on with it, so she could relax for the rest of the evening.
“Okay Dot, walk.” She jangled the lead, yawning a second time, and wandered through into the living room. “Dot! I’m home…” There she was, curled up in her bed in the corner, a small mound of silky fur. “Hey girl. Sleepy old bones, eh? Wakey wakey, walk, and then we’ll snuggle down on the sofa, okay? Dot?”
She reached out a hand, slowly, already knowing. Head on paws, eyes closed, fast asleep, unmoving. She laid the lead down and knelt down to stroke Dot’s head. “Hey girl… it’s me…” She swallowed, a lump suddenly hard and painful in her throat. “Oh Dot. Dot sweetie. I love you.”
Not a sound, not a breath, not a flicker of an eyelid. And Ruth just knelt there, and stroked the lifeless form, and the first tear fell. It was time, of course it was time, they’d known that. But Dot. Oh Dot.
Ruth removed the cross from around her neck and laid it aside, undid the studs on her collar and placed that with it, and then unclipped the collar from around Dot’s neck too. Smoothed the ruffled fur, and leant in, to kiss the greying brow and then to press her cheek against Dot’s shoulder and let tears run into her fur.
Just a dog. An old dog. Old, and tired, and ready for death.
“I’m going to miss you.” She whispered it softly, laying her head down on the floor beside Dot’s paws. “I’m going to miss you so much. Thank you for everything. You’ve been so much more than I could have asked for, so far beyond anything I expected even after we first met. My precious, brave girl. We were going to have such a lovely time together, you know. I was going to retire, and then we were going to go off to the Lakes, and we were going to find a comfortable place to sit together and watch the world go by. And when we were feeling good, we were going to go for a stroll, and you were going to sniff at all the interesting smells, and I was going to admire the views, and then we might stop and sit on a bench and eat our lunch and then stroll back home again. And we were going to take things so slow and steady and just enjoy life together. And we were going to make the most of it, yes, yes we were.”
She laid her arm around Dot’s lifeless form and buried her fingers in the thick ruff which extended down her chest, and just lay there for a while. She ought to get up, really, to decide what she was going to do next, but that required energy. It required her to want to, when all she really wanted was to lie here, to stay as close as possible to a friend who had already gone. I’ll be back later, that’s what she’d said, the last thing she’d said. All that knowing, all that time to say goodbye, and that’s how it had ended.
“Bye, Dot. I love you. And I hope I’ll get to join you, in the end. I hope you’re with Jesus, having a wonderful time. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” She'd thought saying it might be comforting, but it wasn't really. She stroked the soft fur. “My beautiful, beautiful girl. Is it better there? I suppose it is, really. No more pain, no more achy joints, no more waiting around for me all the time. You hung around here a long time, you waited until this old body was well and truly knackered. Well, I hope we had some good times with it, I know I enjoyed them, I hope you did too. Evenings on the sofa, pottering round outside… and all that time just lying under my desk, just being there, sleeping while I worked. You know how special that was to me? How much I’m going to miss you? When I go down there tomorrow morning, and have to sit at my desk, and you’re not there by my feet? And just you. Not having you. I’m…” she took a deep breath and sat up. “I’m going to miss you.” She reached over for the dog blanket, drew it gently from under Dot’s hind legs, and laid it across her so that just her head peeked out. And then she gathered the whole bundle into her arms, and took out her phone, and called the vet.
“Hi… hi, it’s Ruth Harwood here, I’m on your books… yes, Dot. She’s just passed away. You said I could bring her in and you would keep… yes… thank you. Thank you, I’ll see you soon.”
She stood up slowly, the dog cradled against her chest, and left the building through a side door. Laid her precious bundle down on the passenger seat and then drove, one hand on Dot’s head, back out through the gate and into the lonely world.
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