Every year, Remembrance Sunday comes sooner than I expect. Autumn is over and summer is long gone. Thousands of people throughout the country will gather at memorials: in villages, towns and cities. All to remember those who have given their lives in wars and conflicts since World War I. Every year, whilst I was a minister, I stood outside in all sorts of weather, saying the same familiar words, reading scripture and saying prayers……being a focus for those who still remember in a community.

This year, I was impressed to read of children at school being helped to think of the cost of war and of what it meant to their ancestors. I am one of the older generation now, but I am also one of the grateful ones. My first memory of my father was of a rough serge uniform and a strange face looking in a mirror, as he held me up in front of the hall stand. There are only a few left who remember the First War, and those of us born during the Second are reaching towards the end of our lives. And I keep asking myself, when will we learn a better way?

Peace ……  that is the hope for today.

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