Jenny’s letter 5th April
Dear Friends,
There is a particular kind of joy that belongs only to Easter. It is neither loud nor forced, but deep, steady, and full of hope. It comes after the journey of Holy Week—the watching, the waiting, the walking with Christ through sorrow and into life. And yet, if we are not careful, it can feel as though we rush there too quickly. This year, we have held both together—the joy and the depth.
On Good Friday morning, Messy Church gathered and 52 people came through our doors. It was just brilliant—creative, busy, full of life. Families, children, conversation, laughter… all engaging, in their own way, with the story of the cross. It was joyful, accessible, and real.
And then, later, we entered something very different. Our reflective Good Friday service, with Bishop Julie, was quieter, more emotional, more still. The weight of the cross was felt. The sorrow, the love, the cost. It reminded me that Easter is not something we skip to—it is something we arrive at, having truly walked the road. Perhaps we need both. The energy and the stillness. The joy and the reflection. The outward expression of faith and the inward, prayerful response.
Over Holy Week, many of us have also been sharing the journey through services, conversations, and even watching The Chosen, which has helped bring the story of Jesus vividly to life again. It has been good to walk together.
And then this Holy Saturday morning, another moment—unexpected, and unforgettable.I was in church arranging flowers with a small group. There was laughter and chatter, and the church was filling with daffodils—bright, hopeful, and full of promise. I was struck by how familiar it felt. As a child, I remember churches decorated just like this at Easter. There is something about these traditions that grounds us, connecting us to those who have gone before.
Then the door opened. A Polish mother and her son came in, looking for a priest. They had missed the service where their Easter basket was to be blessed and had been searching for a church where someone might help them. They told me, quite simply, that it would not be Easter without the basket blessing. This tradition—Święconka—involves a basket of symbolic foods: eggs for new life, bread for sustenance, and other signs of God’s provision, brought to be blessed on Holy Saturday. So we paused. I found some water, added a pinch of salt, and prayed. And all of us—flower arrangers, mother, son—stood together in that moment. What had been a simple, even mundane task became something holy. It was beautiful. It felt like a glimpse of the Church as it is meant to be: open, responsive, rooted in tradition, and alive with the presence of God.
As we move into Easter, my prayer is that you will know both the depth and the joy. That you will not rush past the cross, but neither will you miss the resurrection.
Alleluia. Christ is risen.
With every blessing,
