I have had a lifelong interest in fairy tales, why, I'm not quite sure. It's the meanings hidden within them, I think, that fascinate me. It's a theme I'd like to think of as a strand I could write about often but as I have only one piece of paper left and this is the first item on it, here goes.
What follows is an outline of a story which I remember from primary school but have never been able to trace. I love it.
THE THREE PRINCESSES
There were three princesses named Anina, Belina and Carina. (My names)
Their father, the King, wanted to find out how much they loved him. (Is this sounding familiar?)
The first two made up extravagant answers. (They really weren't very nice characters at all.)
The third daughter said that she loved him as much as the salt in her food. (In fact, she was the only nice one of the three.)
The King was furious with her and she was banished.
The elder daughters were pretty horrible to the King, showing their true colours.
The youngest heard about this and came back to the palace and managed to find a job in the kitchen.
And yes (you've guessed it) she cooked him a meal without salt. When it was brought to him, he raged about it and sent for the cook.
His daughter revealed herself to him and explained what she'd done and he understood what she'd meant all along.
The two baddies were banished and the King and his only truly loving daughter lived happily ever after.
..................................................................................................................................
(A student of the history of literature could probably tell me that there's a common source of world stories which have inspired our greatest writers through the ages. Son no.2 once found a similar tale to this from an Italian source.)
..................................................................................................................................
The meaning for me in this is as follows:
King-foolish-vain.
Older sisters-flattering-avaricious-uncaring-false.
Youngest-won't lie-knows true values.
Salt in food-preserves-gives taste-flavour-savour-is earthy-can purify-protect-heal.
What can it say to us?
Be truthful-don't listen to flattery-know true values-stay grounded-value purity.
Husband has just added "Be the salt of the earth." Oooh! Impressive, what!! And this even pre-dates Shakespeare.
Sunday, 11 January 2015
About how much we know (or think we know)
The more I know, the more I know I don't know.
The less I knew, the more I thought I did know.
Have you ever noticed that some people are inclined to consider themselves experts on one particular subject or another with which, really, we'd say they have had very little experience.
When I was expecting my first baby, a lady I knew, who'd had one son, was very happy to give me all sorts of advice and, even worse, to frequently recount the rather grim experience she'd had of her one and only labour (which was why, I strongly suspect, this remained the case).
I have to say it made very little impression on me and I went into that procedure quite blithely, expecting it to be a bit of a doddle because I'd read the books and been to the classes and really thought I knew the score.
Needless to say, it didn't quite pan out as expected but I survived and even went on to have more children but never considered myself to be an expert in the matter of childbirth and was very loathe to give much advice to anyone unless asked. Those friends of mine with more than one child have mostly seemed to feel the same as I do.
Despite bringing up a family and surviving life thus far, there aren't many things on which I feel qualified to pronounce with authority; hence my opening mantra. (This isn't the case with opinions, you understand. I'm up there with the best of them in being more than happy to share those, as anyone who knows me will confirm; more's the pity, they'll probably add with a grimace!)
When you think that someone of the stature of Isaac Newton, I think it was, could write, "If I have seen further than most men, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.", it behoves most of us to view our own knowledge as partial and limited.
The older I become, the more I cringe about some of the attitudes I spouted forth upon in my youth. I can only hope that my friends have as poor a memory as I have. If so, it may explain why they don't seem to hold it against me too much. (Maybe we could learn to see that as one of the blessings of getting older!)
The less I knew, the more I thought I did know.
Have you ever noticed that some people are inclined to consider themselves experts on one particular subject or another with which, really, we'd say they have had very little experience.
When I was expecting my first baby, a lady I knew, who'd had one son, was very happy to give me all sorts of advice and, even worse, to frequently recount the rather grim experience she'd had of her one and only labour (which was why, I strongly suspect, this remained the case).
I have to say it made very little impression on me and I went into that procedure quite blithely, expecting it to be a bit of a doddle because I'd read the books and been to the classes and really thought I knew the score.
Needless to say, it didn't quite pan out as expected but I survived and even went on to have more children but never considered myself to be an expert in the matter of childbirth and was very loathe to give much advice to anyone unless asked. Those friends of mine with more than one child have mostly seemed to feel the same as I do.
Despite bringing up a family and surviving life thus far, there aren't many things on which I feel qualified to pronounce with authority; hence my opening mantra. (This isn't the case with opinions, you understand. I'm up there with the best of them in being more than happy to share those, as anyone who knows me will confirm; more's the pity, they'll probably add with a grimace!)
When you think that someone of the stature of Isaac Newton, I think it was, could write, "If I have seen further than most men, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.", it behoves most of us to view our own knowledge as partial and limited.
The older I become, the more I cringe about some of the attitudes I spouted forth upon in my youth. I can only hope that my friends have as poor a memory as I have. If so, it may explain why they don't seem to hold it against me too much. (Maybe we could learn to see that as one of the blessings of getting older!)
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
A poem for Christmas Eve
One Christmas Eve, a few years ago now, I happened to be kneeling at the end of the bench in church and could see down the aisle to the crib, which was set up under the altar.
An image of the real stable came into my mind along with the first line of this poem, which just seemed to grow from there.
The Stable
I saw the straw
Rough trodden, dirty brown upon the floor
Of the stable.
My eyes would rise
No further, saw the manger where he lies
The newborn child.
They meet to greet
Their Saviour, who has come into a world
Made numb with fear,
Yet peace is here.
And we shall see
That all our lives are waiting for this child
Though meek and mild
Our Lord and Love
And life is He.
PS
Yesterday morning, Tuesday 6th January, the feast of The Epiphany, I sang this poem to a tune which, rather like the poem itself, just seemed to flow from the words.
I recorded it on video and hope to have it on U-tube (with the assistance of son no.2) for anyone who would like to hear it. My user-name is jansinging and I called it 'A carol for Epiphany'.
An image of the real stable came into my mind along with the first line of this poem, which just seemed to grow from there.
The Stable
I saw the straw
Rough trodden, dirty brown upon the floor
Of the stable.
My eyes would rise
No further, saw the manger where he lies
The newborn child.
They meet to greet
Their Saviour, who has come into a world
Made numb with fear,
Yet peace is here.
And we shall see
That all our lives are waiting for this child
Though meek and mild
Our Lord and Love
And life is He.
PS
Yesterday morning, Tuesday 6th January, the feast of The Epiphany, I sang this poem to a tune which, rather like the poem itself, just seemed to flow from the words.
I recorded it on video and hope to have it on U-tube (with the assistance of son no.2) for anyone who would like to hear it. My user-name is jansinging and I called it 'A carol for Epiphany'.
Wednesday, 3 December 2014
About three special lives: Part 2
Our little grandson, Dominic, was born with a metabolic disorder and died when he was 11 months old, having spent the last few weeks of his life on a ventilator.
When we visited him on the morning of the day he died, he was lying in the middle of a water-bed which the hospital had hired to make him more comfortable, which was so moving.
When he died, the doctor and nurses were visibly upset and had tears in their eyes. I will always treasure the great privilege I had of holding him while the nurses helped me to put on his special clothes.
All that effort for one small baby boy surely shows the true value of all human life.
My abiding thought about Dominic's life was that through every second of it, he was loved, cherished and treasured. How many people can say that, no matter how long they live.
He's always remembered; his photo hangs on our walls, precious memories of a most beloved child.
When he died, the doctor and nurses were visibly upset and had tears in their eyes. I will always treasure the great privilege I had of holding him while the nurses helped me to put on his special clothes.
All that effort for one small baby boy surely shows the true value of all human life.
My abiding thought about Dominic's life was that through every second of it, he was loved, cherished and treasured. How many people can say that, no matter how long they live.
He's always remembered; his photo hangs on our walls, precious memories of a most beloved child.
Monday, 3 November 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, 28 October 2014
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.
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.
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.
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