Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Father forgive them: they know not what they do.
They do not realise that the choices they make have such repercussions.
They do not know that it is easier to end a war than to begin it.
They do not recognise the moment when their words slice into flesh.
They know not how to raise their children without expectations weighing heavy on the shoulders of the young, so that each generation is burdened with the unfulfilled desires of the last.
Father forgive them; they live
as though unseeing, as though unhearing.
They do not recognise the song of the planets
They do not open their eyes to the specks of stardust floating in the air.
They act, they react, they pretend
that they understand, that they have comprehension of the voices
that reach out to them from across the wastelands of time and understanding.
The voices of those who have made the same mistakes, time after time,
and spent aeons in regret
that no one listened out and learned from them.
Each generation failing to know, failing to recognise the moment
when God put himself at our mercy
and stretched out his hands to break bread
to take the pain and not to rise up against it
to touch and not to harm
to accept and not expect
to know, and not be known.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
I cannot pretend that I come willingly.
I imagined myself as a spectator, perhaps cheering, maybe jeering. This participation isn't me.
Now I have blood on my hands, splinters and callouses; the war wounds of a kindness that I did not choose. The pounding relentless noise of a thirsty crowd in my ears. The overwhelming weight upon my shoulders, the weight of a sentence that isn't mine.
There is hot dust underfoot. The feet of the crowd form a walkway, a tunnel towards the hill. I can see my feet, slipping and staggering under the enforced burden. I see too his feet, walking lightly towards their inevitable fracturing. Our feet fall in step; he slips as I slip, staggers as I stagger. The weight is shared now. For a brief moment of time it is not his burden, nor mine: it is ours. Then it is taken from me, and is no longer mine.
He walks off, more slowly than I; I remain, feeling light and no longer wanting to watch. I am still part of it, my thoughts remaining with him even though he has gone on ahead.
I am compelled.
Last week saw the performances of the play Jordan has been rehearsing since Christmas, 'Alice and the Jabberwock'. The director had very sensibly cast 2 Alices, one for part one (in Wonderland) and one for part two (the Looking Glass). Jordan was Alice two, so had to deal with Jam Tomorrow, 6 Impossible Things, and a Vorpal Sword (what is a vorpal sword, anyway?). She also had 2 solos to sing. Not bad for a kid who was, until recently, terrified to stand in front of an audience, and wouldn't open her mouth to sing.
Last week also saw Bristol Dermatology Centre hosting the South West & Wales conference. It was the first time we had laid on a concurrent conference for specialist nurses, and was an organisational nightmare. As well as that pressure, I was one of the main speakers for the nurses bit (shoehorning 6 hours of material into half an hour? Hmmm... talking of impossible things...). The conference finished with a meal at 6:30pm, I arranged with a very helpful taxi driver to get me across town to the school for the second half of 'Alice' so I turned up there a bit tired & emotional.
We have also recently started a new venture at church. Every third Sunday we are helping to run a 'Cafe Church' instead of the normal evening service (7pm St Matts Kingdown, if you're interested). Its a great opportunity to get to know people, discuss issues of interest, be a bit creative, listen to cool music (but no singing!), participate in some contemplative worship, be fairly silly, and eat lots of cake. Pretty much my favourite things to do. The last one was on healing, and we had a competition to see which table had been the 'most healed' (judged on the collective length of scars). Next week it's the turn of 'Temptation'. Perhaps we'll make the cakes, but refuse to let anyone eat them.
Other pressures at the moment? Well, I am still continuing on my quest to redicover my waistline, visiting the gym 3 times a week... we've sold our house, have had an offer accepted but are waiting on the vendors finding somewhere to go... Richard's mum is in hospital in London, finally getting the specialist treatment she needs... I've got to prepare a presentation for the bigwig managers in the primary care trusts for Friday, justifying the money they spend on dermatology nursing (this time fitting 1 hour's info into 5 minutes. Ho hum...)... and I think I may have just agreed to take on something extra at church. Because life really wasn't impossible enough.