About three precious lives: Part 1

I have two close friends who had profoundly disabled children, one a daughter, Vicky, who died aged 15, and one a son, Jeff, who died aged 51.
Vicky never spoke a word and spent most of her life in a wheelchair. She gazed out at the world with serious eyes, probably because she had very low muscle-tone and couldn't easily smile, but if her great-grandad (one of her favourite people) arrived, her face would light up as her eyes followed him across the room.  
Jeff had the smile of an angel. He would beam at everyone who passed him as he sat in his chair during the happy days he spent at the centre for adults with learning disabilities. It is nearly 10 years since he died but the two hats, one of which was on his head from morning till night, still adorn his mother's armchair. It was 4 years before she was able to part with his single bed which lay beside hers.
My image of Vicky, when she died, was that she had exchanged her wheelchair for a trapeze and was swinging above the clouds and laughing with the angels - and with her great-grandad of course.

I never saw more love bestowed on two human beings than I saw showered upon these two beautiful people.
Of course there are difficulties and sorrows. Maybe you don't realise at the beginning that you're taking on a life-long commitment (maybe that's as well); maybe you do know and feel scared and wonder if and how you'll cope.
All I know is that the people I've met who are in that situation would all say that their lives had been immeasurably blessed by their loved one. Jeff's mum gave the greatest example of love I've ever heard. She said that if someone had told her when Jeff was 7, that there'd been a mix-up at birth and presented her with a perfectly healthy boy, she'd say, "Oh no, we wouldn't part with Jeff now".
May all the world learn to see all human life in this light.

About discouragement, encouragement and climbing 'Dent'

When we look up the mountain and feel disheartened by how far we have to go,
we should try to remember to look down and see how far we've come.

I first remember this thought coming to me in these words many years ago, but usually only remember it when talking to someone else who is discouraged about something in particular.

It puts me in mind of climbing 'Dent', the hill which overlooked the small town where my dad grew up. When we made our magical first family visit, we were taken on  a Sunday afternoon outing to 'climb', or rather stroll up Dent, as it was known locally.

Well what a disappointment; what looked beautiful from afar was boring and endless in reality. Every time we reached one hilltop, it was to find another stretched above! We certainly didn't make the summit that day and I never have. (Will I before I die? I really don't know. My cousins have done it probably many times but they live there.)

Life does seem to be like that at times; one endless summit after another. When we feel downhearted about our failings and failures, we need a friend who will lift our our spirits by saying, "but look at what you have achieved in ..............". This can make all the difference and can help us to look at things in a different way, far more positively.

So, in moments of discouragement, we should try to do this for ourselves and we should also remember that sometimes there really is a summit that we can reach and an amazing view that makes the climb worth all the effort.

About endings and new beginnings

Sometimes it seems 
that something has to die
before something new 
can be born in its place.
                          
This seems so sad but it does seem to be true.
In one of David Attenborough's amazing wildlife series, the total destruction brought about by forest fires was actually shown to be nature's way of purging and purifying the land so that new and better growth could occur.
I remember being very struck by that.

A book I read some years ago described how the troubles in Liverpool between Catholics and Protestants, which were at one time very similar to those in N. Ireland, were never the same after the Second World War, perhaps because the bombs had fallen on everyone irrespective of their religion and everyone had suffered together. How strange that from the horror and devastation of war can come new and better ways of life.

It does actually help me to see that from the tragedies and seeming failures of life, I can often look back and realise that new and better things have come. I do wonder though why it has to be that way. Why do we never seem to learn except by the hard way? Perhaps that's just the way we humans are.

May all of us find the courage to hang on in there through the bad times, always believing that all things pass and that good will always defeat evil, however long it takes.

About making mistakes

My patience in persevering with the television series "The Paradise" paid off in one particular respect. It was to hear this line more than once; "Let us not dwell on our mistakes; let us learn from them". I know that this is not the most original statement ever made but for some reason or other it resonated with me at that time.

To be human is to make mistakes; to dwell on them is is not only fruitless but destructive, leading, as it does so easily, to feelings of inadequacy, despondency and the like. To acknowledge, accept and learn from our failures is to turn the negative into the positive, an opportunity for growth.

This is all very well in theory of course, but the reality, in my case and maybe for others too, is that I still react very badly to making mistakes because I have this irrational fear of being 'told off'; no doubt a throw-back from childhood. I like to hope/think I'm not alone in this but I can always hope that occasionally I may remember the advice!

(PS Another scrap of paper bites the dust! Yesss!)

About snippets and fragments

It is now over two years since I wrote my first blog post (and nearly eight months since the second!!)
I spoke of all the thoughts that I've wanted to share for as long as I can remember.
Many of them have been jotted down on scraps of paper and some in lovely notebooks given as presents on Mother's day and the like.
These two lovely words 'snippets' and 'fragments' seem to describe my jottings, both literally and metaphorically. Little by little, I'm hoping to work through the scraps of paper in order to remove the 'literary litter' of my life.
It's been a joy to finally feel I can send these 'messages in an e-bottle' out to who knows whom.
Here, I want to admit that most nights, before I go to bed, I look at my post views and it's amazing to see that, let's say last night, the number had gone up from 727 the night before to 757. I don't know if that's a lot or a little but it means a lot to me.
To those of you who have read any or all of my snippets and fragments I'd like to say thank you. Although I don't know you and you don't know me, we've made a connection and that, for me, is both a great privilege and such a pleasure.

 .

About self-worth

If we don't believe in ourselves, we are a pain in the neck, both to ourselves and to other people.
We should look around and realise that no-one is perfect and learn to live with with our own imperfections.

If we are constantly aware of them, constantly comparing ourselves to others (one of my worst failings), it is wearing and self-obsessive.


(This was another of my 'snippets and fragments' on a scrap of paper which can now be assigned to the bin; hooray!)

About "Everyone suddenly burst(ing) out singing"

This is (very nearly) the first line of my favourite poem in all the world. Its words leapt off the page of our school poetry book and into my mind and heart where they have remained ever since. It was written by Siegfried Sassoon in 1919 after he had come through the First World War and is from his Collected War Poems.
I offer it here, now, in memory of the horror, in respect and admiration for those who lived through it and in deepest sorrow for those who died and for all who suffered in any way.

                Everyone Sang

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.



My mother was born in 1914 and, maybe for that reason, that date has always seemed even more significant to me and has perhaps brought home more fully the reality of the outbreak of that terrible war.

I love this poem for the beauty and joy - and the hope - which suffuse its imagery and transcend that horror and always will, or so I choose to believe.