Nothing in the photograph today is unique. Grass, a river, a field, and trees. Let me explain why that scene is so important in my memory.
Recently I attended the 75th birthday celebration of my prep school, Brandeston Hall. We had a thanksgiving service, tea on the terrace, tours of the old place and some moving speeches from the (now elderly) men first through the door of the newly opened school in 1948. Put aside any prejudices you may have about private education and boarding for young children, and come back with me to the young William of 1969 when I was nine and half years old.
I looked different then – short (still am), fat (relatively less so now) and curly haired (would be if I let it grow). The place has changed less than I have but it too has developed and grown – less spartan than in 1969 but still a school. In 1972-73 I was head boy. Last week I had a wonderful chat with the present head boy and head girl. We compared jobs; there were many similarities and yet things have moved on a long way.
After tea I made my way back to the car and on my own looked wistfully at the view – as a homesick nine-year-old it comforted me because it was so like home (save the addition of the river Deben in the dip). I remembered looking at it and reading my mother’s letters. My last thought as I drove home the other day was that for all that has changed for me and for schools generally and Brandeston in particular, still the oak tree stands in the middle of that view – just like the one at the bottom of our garden at home.
We need our fixed points in life. Things to anchor us and join where we are with where we have come from. I am not going to pretend that at nine, or even thirteen, I properly understood the fixed nature of God but by the time I left Framlingham at eighteen I certainly did. Meeting a couple of people who I last spoke to in 1978 I heard myself explaining how I came to be doing what I am and living where I do; and then it struck me forcibly that I have been so fortunate to have found the God who is unchangeable despite our changes and meets our needs to link with home whatever is happening.
A prayer
God, our stability, and our eternal home, when we feel lonely and hollow in our temporary human need for love and support come to us. Warm us and comfort us – help us not to forget that you are permanent, more so even than the ancient oaks. You are God who changes with the times, you are a giant but unlike the giants of the myths and legends or the dinosaurs of history, you will not go extinct. We praise you and we worship you. Amen.