In April Graham was suffering from a nasty virus and chest infection and was not well enough to write this letter. So I (Anne) thought that this would be a chance to tell you a little about life in the Rectory.

It is a great privilege to live in the Rectory with its beautiful views across fields, cows queuing for milking, boats on the canal, and trains – including steam trains, and glorious sunsets. To the outsider life here may appear idyllic, and we certainly do appreciate all that we have, but that is not the whole picture.

As I write this there is a roaring log fire in the grate and the spaniels (Alfie and Harry) are sprawled across the floor at our feet. We are sitting watching TV together and all is cosy. But this snap shot of family life doesn't tell you that Alfie has just run across the recently manured field behind the house. Despite emergency treatment with baby wipes there is still a distinctive aroma permeating the room. He has chewed the kindling sticks leaving little splinters all over the carpet, and we've all had a bicker about who should bring in the coal. Life is often chaotic and we may fall short of the nice clergy family we would like to be.

So how did we become a clergy family. In 1983 I married a maths teacher and moved into his little house on a small estate. A year later we had Jenny, and Graham told me he thought he was being called to ordained ministry. We explored this calling, had Philip and moved to theological college in Bristol, firmly believing that the call was for the whole family, including our children.

We were thrilled when, at university, Jenny also felt called to be ordained and wanted to follow that calling (after all she knows what it's really like). But we are equally excited to hear of all that Phil is doing with his church in Sheffield as he leads the young people's group in his spare time. Our children's faith often refreshes, encourages and challenges us.

In my work as a speech and language therapist I spend every week day with families struggling with the effects of social and economic deprivation, and I see this as part of my calling. I often say that I go to work for a break. Sometimes I really mean it. On the other hand being out during the week means that Saturdays are a turmoil of cleaning (plenty of that with 3 dogs and 3 cats and a very large house), washing, ironing, shopping, gardening (ok, I admit we ought to do more of that) service preparation and, twice a month, church band practice.

On Sundays we all know what clergymen do (though you don't see any of the preparations and gathering of essentials, notice sheets, milk for coffee, bread for communion, check the emails for any important messages etc). Nick and I usually join Graham for the main service often helping to lead the worship or making the coffee. After church we like to invite people back for Sunday dinner whenever we can though this is not a posh affair and we often all squeeze round the kitchen table to eat our roast.

Weekday evenings bring meetings to host, phone calls to answer, and callers at the door. Some are friends, some are strangers, some are people who are in desperate need living rough in all kinds of weather.

Having a call does not make us perfect or mean that the job is always fun; with any privilege comes responsibility. But it is not just our family members who have a call. God has a plan for each one of us and if God is calling you he will equip you. This month we celebrate the festival of Pentecost – the sending of the Holy Spirit to all believers. It is the perfect time to explore what God wants you to do and for asking Him to send His Holy Spirit to you equip you. And He will!

Anne Joyce