Occasionally I write bad poetry.

One verse I wrote had a line ‘standing in the same place twice’.

It came to my mind at New Year when I stood on the footbridge over the Falls of Feugh in the North East of Scotland.

It is a beautiful spot, now complete with a tearoom.

Twenty-six years ago on a rickety wooden bridge I got down on one knee and proposed to my now wife, the water gently cascading over the rocks beneath, in the moonlight it was a romantic, gentle spot appropriate for getting engaged.

At the end of last year I found myself there again, holding onto the now substantial, metal bridge as the waters thundered in full flood underneath.

Rather than the gentleness of before, the power of the water was deafening, and indeed within an hour the bridge was at such risk of destruction it was closed. Communities were isolated and Aberdeenshire, joined the list of places devastated by the winter storms.

I reflected back on that bridge; how that engagement turned into marriage and the many different circumstances, events and locations my wife and I and, in time, our children have found ourselves.

At times it has been still, at times it feels as if the heavens have opened and instead of a quiet stream, there is a raging torrent.

I had been inspired to write the phrase ‘standing in the same place twice’ after my second visit to Bethlehem.

Neither time had been especially easy. On the first I was caught in the middle of a confrontation, with stones, tear gas and bullets as the backdrop; on the second there was a stillness born out of isolation and fear, so far from the images of our Christmas Carols.

In the Bible, Bethlehem features as a place where things change. Jesus was born, but also Rachel wept for her children and of course Herod slaughtered the innocents. A simple place that contains so many instances both positive and negative.

Most places that we visit, we visit either regularly or rarely. The rare visit can be a one off and be inspirational. The regular involves the risk of taking it all for granted, ignoring the beauty, or even the complexities of a given place.

I invite you to stand in the same place twice. To look again at the context, either historic or current. To consider the changes and hopefully to see the world afresh.

The Venerable Michael Everitt

Archdeacon of Lancaster