Jill and Adrian Chatfield's 2019 news

2019 was the year Adrian turned 70! We went to Prague and Budapest in March to celebrate, continuing the tradition of exploring new European cities. It was slightly marred by Jill tripping and falling on a very uneven pavement in Prague, and she was blue-lighted to the University Hospital. Two and a half hours later, she had received CT scan and emergency treatment, and we were back out on the pavement. Very impressed, not least by the ambulance equipped with a card machine for payment.

Adrian had always wanted to be listed as a MV70, male veteran for the uninitiated. So he ran the Edinburgh Marathon for the Alzheimer's Society in May, and then his usual Yorkshireman Fell Marathon in September. Both were harder work, no doubt because of the new decade. He keeps thinking that it's time to reduce to half marathons, but time will tell. 

Continuing on the theme of time away from home, we actually spent twelve weeks out and about. In January we were delighted and privileged to hold the fort in six rural churches in County Donegal for a good friend. Visiting Derry/Londonderry for the first time made us more than ever aware of just how complex politics is, and what a mess the Brexit negotiations have made of the Good Friday Agreement. We missed a car bomb by one day, but the thing that will stay with us is wonderful Irish hospitality, some very moving opportunities for ministry and lots of exploring. A Friday night's healing service at Malin, attended by Anglicans, Presbyterians and Catholics was for
us the highlight, not least because everyone came forward for prayer.

The centrepiece of our caravanning was five weeks in France, which took us to Amiens, the Loire (Checy), Orleans, Vezelay, Chambery and Bourg-St-Maurice. We are not now able to do as much steep walking as formerly, but a mixture of art galleries, country walks and the occasional foray into the foothills is deeply satisfying.

When we are not playing, we keep ourselves pretty busy. Adrian gives spiritual direction and speaks at a number of retreats. Jill does voluntary chaplaincy in the Emergency Department at Queen's Medical Centre once a week and occasional bank chaplaincy at Queen's and City Hospitals, and we both help out in our local church: St Laurence Heanor. Adrian's second ever book came out in September, co-authored with a former student. 'Soul Friendship: A Practical Theology of Spiritual Direction' seems to have been well-received by people whose opinion we trust.

For those who know our wider family, Michael is now a Chaplain in the Royal Navy, having moved from the RAF and Helen continues with Youth and Children's work in a multi-parish benefice in rural Hampshire. Rachel and Dave are settled in Occupational Therapy and Electrical Services respectively. Our four granddaughters are now 19, 17, 15 and 12. That's what makes us feel really old, but we are delighted that Hannah (19) has come to the University of Nottingham to read Global Issues and International Affairs, so we are really enjoying getting to know her as an adult.

We're writing this in the tradition of the 'Christmas letter' and are grateful that we get news back from so many of our friends. But we are intensely aware, writing this in the week of the third General Election, that we live in unpredictable, politically foolish and troubling times. So our prayer for all our family and friends is  that you may find peace in the midst of uncertainty, hope among deeply conflicted proposals for the future, and - if you are a Christian - enduring faith in Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.

The end draweth nigh: Brexit?

It came to me in a moment of idle speculation: October 31^st is the end of the world, at least as we know it. I’d be hard pressed to foretell the outcome. Political commentators predict chaos if they are remainers, or a little pain for a better world (exiters). The millennium – and dire consequences for unbelievers – has been prophesied for the past 2000 years and longer. Norman Cohn in his classic ‘The Pursuit of the Millennium’ unfolds the European predilection for a politics of disaster leading to a new golden age, often with the elimination of those with uncomfortably distinct views.

On the one hand, the truth is that November 1^st will probably be a dull and rainy day. November as usual, then. What none of us can tell is the consequence of reversing an incompletely thought through political project: the European Union. Born out of the horror of European and global conflict, it always had a millennial tone: the new age dawns. It also had a crusading tone: together we can correct the imbalance of power, lest America and the USSR dominate the global economy.

On the other hand, it is the child of 21^st century populist politics, bearing the stamp of nationalist identity, fear of the global project, terror at the invasion of the barbarians, all cloaked by the illusion of this thing we call ‘sovereignty’. Fortunately, few people I know think that our leaders are Messiahs. We probably consider them the least worst option. What I hope for is that the doors of political debate remain open without rancour. It’s the bitterness and polarized anger that I fear the most.

So what am I waiting for? Perhaps most of all for the waiting time to be over, and for us to get on with decisions that have been taken. I’m hoping for no one to say ‘I told you so’, remainer or exiter. I’m longing for people to learn to go on talking to each other more graciously than even normally courteous Christians are doing at the moment. I hope, and pray.