VICAR
Dear Readers of Country Squire Magazine, as the Editor wrote this week, the countryside does not rush. It has its rhythms, its seasons, its own unhurried pace. The oak tree does not try to grow faster than the oak tree next to it. The river does not hurry to reach the sea. They simply are, and in their being, they teach us to be still, to be patient, to trust that what needs to happen will happen in its own time.
But I have also been thinking, this week, about the particular beauty of things that do not last. The brief glory of the apple blossom that falls within a week. The moment when the hay is at its sweetest, just before the cut. The evening sky that burns gold and then fades to grey. There is a poignancy in these things, a bittersweetness that reminds us that nothing stays the same. And yet, in the countryside, there is no despair in this. The trees do not mourn their fallen leaves. The fields do not grieve the harvest’s end. They simply let go, and trust that what comes next will be what is needed.
So today, a prayer for the turning seasons—for the beauty of what is passing, the gift of what is present, and the hope of what is yet to come.
Dear Lord,
We thank You for the changing seasons that mark the turning of our days. For the spring that bursts with new life, the summer that ripens and warms, the autumn that paints the world in gold, and the winter that invites us to rest and wait. Each season has its own gift, its own beauty, its own purpose. Teach us to welcome them all.
We thank You for the signs of change that we see around us. The shortening days and the lengthening shadows. The first tinge of gold in the hedge. The swallows gathering on the wires, preparing for their journey south. The slow turning of the leaves from green to amber. These are the quiet announcements of passing time, and they are beautiful.
We pray for the farmers who live by the seasons, whose whole year is a dance with the weather. Bless their spring sowing and their summer hay. Bless their autumn harvest and their winter rest. Let them know that each season has its labour and its reward, and that they are part of something ancient and sacred.
We thank You for the harvest that is gathered in. For the wheat and the barley, the oats and the potatoes, the fruit and the vegetables that have grown from Your good earth. Let us receive them with gratitude and share them with generosity. And let us remember the ones who have grown them, who have laboured in sun and rain to bring food to our tables.
We thank You for the fallowness that follows the harvest. For the fields that lie bare, their work done for another year. There is a stillness in them that teaches us about our own seasons of rest. Let us not be afraid of empty times. Let us trust that the land is gathering strength, and that we can do the same.
We pray for the creatures that prepare for the cold to come. For the squirrels that bury their nuts, the birds that build their winter roosts, the hedgehogs that find their nests of leaves. Let them be safe. Let their stores be sufficient. And let them teach us the wisdom of preparation and the trust that enough will be given.
We thank You for the comfort of the familiar. For the same lane, the same field, the same tree, seen in different lights and different seasons. There is a deep peace in knowing a place through all its changes, and we are grateful for the landscapes that have held us through the years.
We pray for those who are in a season of change themselves. The ones who are leaving home, starting new jobs, ending old relationships, facing illness or loss. Be with them, Lord. Let them know that change is not the same as ending. That every season is a doorway to something else. That winter is not the death of the garden, but its rest.
We pray for those who cling too tightly to what is passing. For the ones who cannot let go of the past, who mourn a summer that will not return, who try to hold onto leaves that must fall. Teach them to release, Lord. Teach them that letting go is not losing, but making room.
We pray for our own hearts, which so often resist the rhythm of the seasons. We want spring in winter and rest in harvest. We want the fruit without the waiting and the blossom without the frost. Forgive our impatience. Let us accept the season we are in, and find its particular grace.
And finally, Lord, we thank You for the great turning of the year. For the cycle that never ends, the wheel that rolls on, the promise that spring will come again. Let us trust in that promise. Let us live in hope. And let us find beauty in every season, knowing that each one is a gift from Your hand.
For every season has its time, and every time has its blessing. And we are grateful for them all.
Amen.
God Bless You All.
Today’s church is St Magnus Cathedral, Orkney