Today is the shortest day - or longest night - of the year; the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere. My day has been busy, shepherding people around the abbey, fielding questions about the building and the services - and managing to avoid saying, "Do I look as though I have the slightest interest in why there isn't a crib for the children to play with?" What a contrast to twelve months ago - again. The shortest day last year was definitely my longest night; the day I was given a diagnosis of cancer. I don't really remember much after that, other than the fact that the sky didn't fall in and the world didn't end - at least not for anyone else.
And now look! I'm still here, I'm well, I'm optimistic and I'm looking forward to the future. A cancer diagnosis really isn't the end of life as we know it. So, if this year, you've heard the same words as I heard last year, remember that it will pass.
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