This weekend I have been trying to look at the shafts of light that fill the spaces between the clouds. My own take on silver linings… Happy thoughts that hopefully will give me Peter Pan wings this week.
If it wasn’t for smiling flowers insomnia I wouldn’t have been up to see a slither of moon peeping through the trees, before the sun rose and washed away the intense silver light.
If it wasn’t for her quiet presence I wouldn’t have been able to have lunch with her in the flat in Woolecombe whilst listening to the waves crashing outside the window.
If it wasn’t for her deafness we wouldn’t have a child who could sign at least 40 words before she learnt to sign ‘no.’ I love that her first ‘word’ wasn’t ‘no.’ Sometimes she shakes her head with a mischievous little smile when she is doing something she knows she shouldn’t, like eating her shoes.
We also wouldn’t have given her a sign name which reveals so much of who she is and the mark she already makes on the world.
Because she is deaf we don’t have to listen to awful nursery rhyme CD’s on long car journeys. This is a real bonus.
If we hadn’t struggled we wouldn’t know the love and support of so many people who have traveled this bumpy road with us.
Maybe because it hasn’t been easy, I am acutely aware of the absolute and unending depths of my love for our sleepless, signing, smiling flower.
Lent starts on Wednesday. I am going to be following Brian Drapers Lent 40 series (he’s on my blog roll if you are interested). In his words: I write a series of 40 original e-mails ‘in the moment’, day by day – designed to help us all, in the hustle of life, to build a little rhythm and ritual into our often unreflective lives. Sometimes, these ways of being stick. And life becomes that little bit more vivid.
I am hoping it will help me keep gazing at the shafts of light…
The Bright Field
by R. S. Thomas
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.