Taylor had always been drawn to a life closely connected to God, and eventually attended Yale Divinity School. She was one of the first women to be ordained in the American Episcopal Church, and went on to serve as an assistant priest in a large urban parish. After a decade, however, she felt hemmed in on all sides, and went and looked for a rural church which she could lead on her own. Nearly six years later, somewhat to her amazement, the rural setting had hemmed her in as much as the urban, and one day she decided to quit the priesthood altogether and take a job teaching world religions at a nearby University.

Taylor was something of a workaholic, it might be said, and never quite felt she was fulfilling her vocation unless she was at the beck and call of every voice in need. But even she came to realise that only God can “fix” everything, and human beings are called not just to work, but to rest.

In chapter nine of the book she describes her time of break-out from all the pressures she was under and the way in which she “rejoined” the human race. Ministry, it turned out, had made her a member of a slightly different species, and suddenly she found she had time for people who didn’t actually need her helping hand. She also had time to take a “Sabbath” most weeks, which often meant not going near a church, but spending time alone with the Lord.

Taylor is well-known for her published sermons, and is a gifted and stylish writer. There may be times in this book when she reflects a little too long over the small things in her life, seeing symbols in all sorts of places, but in general even these reflections are interesting – and often illuminating. She has the ability to tell a story, whether it’s from her own life or another’s, and often it’s the storytelling that carries the reader along in this book.

It’s always a bit of a conundrum for the reader when people who must have a considerable input into the writer’s life appear in a book to be very much on the edge of what’s being told. Thus Taylor’s husband, Ed, appears in the narrative not only spasmodically, but almost without personality. It’s only late in the book, when she describes his involvement in an Indian sun dance that takes place over several days on their property, that he comes more alive. But we’re given no hint as to why he might find the Indians’ form of religion more connecting than his wife’s. And ironically, the Indians, who are regarded as people close to the land and to creation, no sooner arrive on the property than they’re setting up huge trash containers and portaloos, making muddy ruts in the pasture, and getting out the chain saws to attack the trees for building. Taylor doesn’t mention the irony; she’s rather too busy attacking herself for not being as peaceful about it as she ought.

Leaving Home is best when it’s describing the sheer difficulty of the minister’s life, and many within other churches – of various denominations – are similarly struggling with stress, burnout, overwork, and a lack of time to be alone with God, or even to pray and read the Bible. I believe most in leadership will find helpful things in the book. But it isn’t just about ministers’ difficulties: there are plenty of delights along the way to make it an enjoyable read for those who aren’t in the “business” of serving.