7

Seven.

The Hebrew number for completeness, perfection.

The days in a week.

David Beckham in an England shirt.

Deadly sins.

Wonders of the world.

The smallest number that can't be represented as a sum of fewer than four non-zero squares.

The number of bones in a mammal's neck.

The number of spots on a ladybird.

The stellar objects in the solar system visible to the naked eye.

The hills of Rome. Or Bristol.

S Club.

The completed symphonies of Sibelius. Or Prokofiev, for that matter.

The number of Brides and Brothers in the 1954 musical film featuring Howard Keel.

Or Samurai, if Kurosawa is more your thing.

Or Sinners, if Marlene Dietrich does it for you.

Put a couple of noughts before it, and you have Britain's most famous Universal Export.

And of course, a recently completed series of children's novels has this many books.

And Star Trek fans are waiting for a Borg reference. I could give several. Of nine.

But really, the reason for all this is that today is the seventh anniversary of my time as vicar of St Catherine's, and though I could go all deep and theological on you - actually, I just want to be happy, and grateful. I love being here (though I'm not here - I'm on holiday!) - it is a blast. A privilege. A wonderful thing. Sure, there are moments, but I am where God has called me to be, doing what I am called to do, and that is the most that anyone can ask for. I love it.

Thank you Lord. I don't know what tomorrow holds, but for these seven years past, I am extraordinarily grateful, you have been wonderfully kind to me. I pray for dreams of what may come, and greater grace to see those dreams come to pass.

Isaiah 65.17-25