Recycling seems to be getting more fashionable these days, as the message sinks in that we only have one planet, and once it runs out we're unlikely to get another one. At church we already recycle paper, aluminium foil and cans, as well as saving stamps; now we're going to put in a bin for recycling old inkjet printer cartridges as well, which will make some money for Christian Aid.
Of course, recycling is nothing new. It used to be called more old-fashioned names, like ‘make do and mend'. Crafts like patchwork or rugmaking began when scraps of fabric from worn-out clothes were made into something unique and beautiful. Apparently it's even possible to unravel wool from an old pullover and knit it up again - though I doubt I'd have the patience, unless that was the only way I could get new clothes.

If it's anything like last year, February is going to do its best to depress us with grey, wet weather. So here's a word to take your mind off what's happening outside: creativity!
I wonder what comes into your mind with that word? For some it will mean a new idea; for others, a new cake recipe. One person may be inspired to paint, another to write, sing, knit or play a master stroke of golf. Still others are skilled in living life well, creating a home to relax in, or a safe space for others to confide their troubles or lessen their loneliness.

January's a good time to look both back and forward - the Romans knew that, with their two-headed god Janus, who names the month. Back: to remember what we hoped to have achieved in the course of last year and to appraise how well we've done. Forward: to plan what we would like to do this year - though, of course, we know that however thoroughly we plan, God is bound to have a few surprises in store for us.
Here are some of the 2006 church activities our Elders Retreat discussed this year:

Work in our church

I like looking at old family pictures: the serious black-and-white expressions; the strange fashions; the outlandish hairstyles. But usually I have to call my mother over and ask her, Who on earth is that? A few years ago we had a mammoth family pictures session and wrote the names of all the people we could identify on the back of the photos - but even when I know the names, sometimes I'm not a great deal wiser about how they fit into the family story.

At this time of year, loud bangs come out of nowhere, A&E departments become more crowded than usual, and pets try in vain to hide under the bed. Yes, it's that time again to celebrate terrorism, judicial murder and a total lack of inter-religious dialogue - Bonfire Night, the night when we remember Guy Fawkes' unsuccessful plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, and its grim conclusion.

Just now my mind is preoccupied by visions - not of the oneness-with-God variety that mystics experience, or the psychedelic sort induced by illegal substances, but the kind of vision which the book of Proverbs (in the King James translation!) sees as crucial for a faith community: Where there is no vision, the people perish.
Ironically, this use of the word ‘vision' is as likely nowadays to be found in a commercial venture as in a church community. Companies focussing on their core business will ask themselves two vital questions: ‘What is our vision?' - what the goals they really want to achieve may be, and ‘Who are our stakeholders?' - who shares that vision with them, and how they may work together to attain it.

I always think of September as the beginning of autumn - though now, I suppose, with the seasons changing around us, it may turn out to be the end of summer, or (God forbid!) the beginning of winter. But to me September means hips and haws and ripe blackberries in the hedges, a glut of apples in the orchard, marrows and sweetcorn in the allotment - Keats' season of ‘mellow fruitfulness'.

Just now, the second topic on everyone's lips seems to be, Are you going anywhere on holiday this summer? (The first topic, as you'll have guessed, is the weather.) Establishing presence or absence is very important to the smooth running of our social calendar, especially in a congregation like St Andrew's, where everyone's diary is well exercised. And not only to the social calendar!
Some of you, when you receive a phone call from me on a Saturday evening, have learned to anticipate me by asking, ‘What reading would you like me to do on Sunday?' But that's a minor matter of forward planning, compared with such grand exercises as our recent Pentecost Communion, where dozens of us were occupied in organising plants, cakes, music and particularly the serving of Communion to nearly 200 people, months in advance of the date itself.

When you have a whole pile of things to be done, how do you decide what to do first? My first reaction is to make a comprehensive to-do list, preferably including a few things I have already done, so I can tick them off. Next, I look at everything there is to do, panic, and seize on some displacement activity; though this can take quite constructive forms, when I finally get back to my list it's no shorter...
When I get down to work, I tend to look first at urgent things, or those that people have already asked me about several times; then things I enjoy doing. Finally, I get around to the part of my list that takes up my energy: for me that may well involve coordinating a lot of people and dates. Often by that stage time has run out, so I heave a somewhat guilty sigh and leave those tasks to tomorrow's list.

I find it almost incredible that, by the time you read this letter, I will be starting my second year as your minister. This first year has sped past: starting to get to know you; finding my way around; beginning to discover what being a minister is all about. They don't really prepare you for that in college - but then again, they can't. Until you're actually in post, it's impossible to tell, and the answer is different for everyone anyway. So what's the story according to Sarah: what is it like being a minister, now I'm finding out in practice, not in theory?