VICAR
Dear Readers of Country Squire Magazine, the last days of October are upon us, and the countryside is making its final preparations for winter. The hedgerows are stripped, the fields are empty, and the first hard frosts have touched the grass with silver. There is a stillness in the air, a sense of waiting. The year is turning, and we are turning with it.
I have been thinking about the particular gifts of this season. So today, a short prayer for the turning year, and for all who find themselves in need of a little hope as the darkness deepens.
Dear Lord,
We thank You for this season of turning. For the clocks that have gone back and the evenings that draw in. For the last of the leaves and the first of the frosts. For the bare trees and the empty fields. The year is turning, Lord, and we turn with it. Give us grace to welcome what is coming.
We thank You for the beauty of this month. For the grey skies and the silver frosts. For the low, slanting light that gilds the bare branches. For the woodsmoke that drifts across the village on a still evening. For the first fires of winter, crackling in the grate. Let us find beauty in the bareness, Lord. Let us see Your hand in the quiet places.
We thank You for the last of the harvest. For the apples stored in the loft and the potatoes in the sack. For the wood that is stacked and the hay that is baled. For the preserves in the pantry and the pickles in the jar. Let us be grateful for the earth’s abundance, and let us share it with those in need.
We thank You for the creatures that have prepared for winter. For the squirrels with their hidden stores and the hedgehogs curled in their nests. For the birds that flock to the feeders and the deer that browse the bare woods. Let them find shelter and sustenance in the months ahead. And let us remember to care for them—to put out food and water, to leave a corner of the garden wild, to make room for the wild things in our lives.
We pray for the farmers in this season of rest. For those who have finished the harvest and now wait for spring. For those who tend the livestock through the cold months. For those who mend the fences and repair the barns. Give them rest, Lord. Give them warmth. And give them hope for the year to come.
We pray for those who find this season difficult. For the ones whose spirits fall with the leaves. For the ones who dread the darkening evenings and the shortening days. For the ones who feel the cold in their bones and the loneliness in their hearts. Be with them, Lord. Send them light in the darkness. Send them warmth in the cold. Send them a friend to sit beside them.
We thank You for the lessons of the turning year. For the reminder that nothing lasts forever—not the summer, not the harvest, not even our own lives. For the teaching that letting go is not loss, but release. For the wisdom that there is beauty in bareness, and that death is not the end, but the beginning of something new. Help us to embrace these lessons, Lord. Help us to let go of what we cannot keep, and to trust in Your promise of renewal.
We pray for the church in this season. For the quiet evenings and the longer nights. For the prayers said in the gathering dark. For the hope that burns in the heart of winter. Let this be a time of reflection and renewal for us all. Let us draw closer to You as the nights draw in.
And finally, Lord, we thank You for the promise of spring. For the bulbs that lie sleeping in the earth. For the buds that wait on the bare branches. For the knowledge that the winter will pass and the world will wake again. The turning year is not an ending. It is a preparation. And we trust in Your goodness, and in the turning of the year.
Bless this season, Lord. Bless the falling leaves and the cooling air. Bless the harvest and the rest. And bless us, as we learn to let go, and to trust in You.
Amen.
God Bless You All
Photo: St Bartholomew’s Dorset