The crack where the light gets in...
A few years ago I was bullied out of teaching and threatened with legal action because I had referred to this (very obliquely, and anonymously) on social media. I was in a bad way mentally and one day I hid away in a chapel within the Crooked Spire Church, closed my eyes, breathed deeply and offered up my terror to God. It felt like there was nowhere else to go with it. The Union was swamped with casework (mainly my colleagues) and it felt like a miracle would be the only solution. As I sat gazing on a particularly beautiful angel-filled window, listening to voices in the distance, inhaling air perfumed with incense and beeswax, I experienced a few seconds of Peace. it didn't last long, but long enough to remind me that my troubles were tiny in the vast scheme of things, and to give me a glimmer of hope. I leaned back against the ancient wood and closed my eyes, imagining the generations of worshippers - amongst them my Grandma's family who (at least, according to my Mum) brou...