Observations That Don’t Make Sense

Indulging in classic procrastinating antics, I sit to write instead of tidying this place called home. I want to record some things I observe. It has been a busy week that passed me by and now I feel the foot lift off the accelerator a little, leaving me with some time to write and some time to reflect. I have plenty to accomplish. Just a small pause for thought won’t do any harm.

Observation no 1: Half way through the day today – a beautiful day of seeing great young talent growing, on a day where home educators gather – I discovered my top was on back to front. My observation is that it made it a much more modest top than if I wore it correctly. Inspired by my own absent mindedness, I think I might choose a future day for seeing how like Mr Topsy-Turvy I can be. I could see how much little sense I can make!

Observation no 2: Miss Puddleduck gave me a note book she had found in an odd bag. I can’t date it. It is old, but no more than 7 years old. In it, I have the synopsis of a book I began writing. The half written book sits forgotten on a USB stick, who knows where. The note book contains words like “Diminutive Figure”, “Illegitimate Daughter”, and “Cat’s Kingdom”. The synopsis was formed from the amalgamation of three dreams and is completely fantastical; yet another children’s book.

This note book also has lists of things to do, lesson plans, poems, a recipe, train times, seat reservations and a quote from Longshanks – one I thought worth recording.

Longshanks said about Rich Tea Boy: “I don’t mind it he gets all the glory because I’ve had lots of glory before”.

What grace!

There are two words written below that I have recorded – errors the children made.
“Brazilliance” (a great word) and “Purpose Traitor” (instead of perpetrator). I love bloopers like those.

Observation no 3: I spotted something on Friday that disturbed me. Tim and I were walking to the station to catch a train to Manchester. Our small town train station is a two platform affair that trains of no more than two or three carriages stop by. Although on a mainline, it is a minor stop. As we crossed the bridge, I noticed writing on the wall. It dribbles black and is a little indistinct but I picked out the words “Help Rhodesia” – such a random thing to write in a back-water of a place. It wasn’t the words themselves that disturbed me. It was the realisation that this piece of grafitti was written by someone elderly. It must be. Rhodesia is a memory. In my moral mind, elderly people don’t write on walls (unless they need help). I was most disturbed by the conviction that whoever wrote that needs help. Someone in my town has a broken heart for a place that no longer exists. That writing communicates more grief than supplication. I don’t know what the writer thought they would achieve in the writing. However, I understand the ache. Grief for some is never resolved. It is very sad. I am glad that is not my story. But I grieve for those who have no healing.

By contrast, my final observation:

Observation no 4: Joy! I observe joy. I enjoy finding joy in flexing strength of character that I know is not my own. That doesn’t make sense! But maybe these verses help illuminate my observation a little better.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

“For the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10

How Brazilliant!

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About deerfeet

I am a home-educating mother of four children. We live on a small holding in Wales and my husband is active in local politics and the lead pastor of our church, Festival Church.
This entry was posted in Creative Communication, Family Life, Reflections, Writing, zimbabwe and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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