THE RECOVERY

THE RECOVERY

This poem was written for a dear friend of mine. She is brave, talented, kind hearted and one of the best "advertisements" for Christianity that I have ever met. Her friendship means more to me than she can probably guess"


Demi-Lazarus,
she rises from that hospital bed
and the years of half-life
that, nevertheless,
could not extinguish
the embers within.

Now, with every kind impulse,
those embers glow again;
the cards at Easter,
the bringing of strangers together,
prayer and poetry.
This heart shines outward.

The road rising
is sometimes a mountain, but,
though bone weary,
frailty is matched with grace.
The embers are fanned.
The flame is returning!


I'm having trouble placing comments on my OWN blog, would you believe? - you would if you had any idea of my computer incompetence. So, here's a special message for:

Pearl

Thanks for all your comments Pearl. Like the lady in the song: "You're a darn nice girl"!

and Suz

I've got some sympathy with your views Suz. There are not many likeable characters. Daisy is the sort of woman most modern women would cheerfully slap and her old man is a Yob - no less so for being rich. But Gatsby - at least he believes in SOMETHING. The bit that moved me almost more than any other bit of the book was where they find, after he is dead, the note to himself about the regime he must impose upon himself if he is to achieve his goal. The fact that his goal would be unachievable to any mortal being (see last page) makes his story all the more moving. "Come back, come back, oh glittering and white" - indeed !

I plan, in due course, to do a posting dedicated to explaining why I love the book so much. Maybe I will even convince you. Take care ladies xxx.

P.C. OR NOT P.C. (PART THREE)

This is another story about the little Asian boy that I took to school and said goodbye to about two weeks ago. It's in two parts, so I hope that you will bear with me!

FIRST PART
A couple of days ago I was enjoying a coffee in a place up town. I had just come from Church and was ploughing my way through The Observer (not my favourite newspaper) when snippets of conversation from the next table began drifting into my consciousness.

They were all the harder to ignore because the person who was doing most of the talking had one of those voices which was not so much loud as penetrating,if you know what I mean.

Her voice was bright and shiny with enthusiasm. The snippets and slivers of conversation came thick and fast. She was into some sort of Virtual Reality scene and was proudly regaling her companions with the status of her Avatar. Am I getting this right?

The Avatar was apparently a person of great virtual importance (we've all met a few of these in THIS world, haven't we?) The Enthusiast actually came out with the immortal line, "I'm the third most important person in my imaginary world". If I was going to go to the bother of creating an imaginary world I'd make b***dy sure I was THE most important person in it but as it is, I have enough problems with reality, so there!

This world, no not THIS world, the imaginary one (try to keep up) was apparently a dangerous and demanding place. There were Ogres, Monsters and Dragons and what have you lurking around every corner. Dastardly things had to be done to ensure survival.

"I've just realised", said our Enthusiast", to stand a chance of surviving I might have to kill my own son!"

I felt myself rapidly approaching "people slapping mode" so I tuned out and returned to The Observer (it has its uses).

Fast forward (what a relief), to:

SECOND PART
A day later I am going home on the bus. The little boy I said goodbye to a couple of weeks ago (see previous postings) was in his wheelchair across the aisle and accompanied by two of his carers. He had just come back from a Fun Day Out and the sheen of happiness was still evident on his face. Suddenly, he frowned. "Will you be taking me to my new school?", he asked.

I reassured him that they would find somebody nice to look after him and his face relaxed back into that teddy bear smile.

For the rest of his journey he would look over occassionly and the big brown eyes would sparkle in a reprise of that smile. He seemed confident that, at least for the moment,everything in his world was as it should be and I, at least for the moment, was glad for him.

As the bus rolled on I thought, again, of that idiot world I had heard about the day before. One thing was certain the Ogres, Monsters and Dragons that this little boy will have to face will be real enough. They will come in the form of the humiliation he will soon feel at still needing nappies. They will appear in the form of the unthinking cruelty (and worse, the conscious cruelty) of those more fortunate than he. And, later, when others find girlfriends they will come, again and again and again.......

But I have seen the light in his eye and been close enough to sense the strength of his God given spirit. There will be many battles ahead and he may not win them all (though I pray that he does) but, he can be sure of one thing, those he does win will be REAL. They will not be locked away in some, dark and dank and unseen Virtual World. They will be out there shining for ALL with the eyes to see.

May God bless him and watch over him on his journey!


If you have any stories to tell or subjects you'd like me to cover or any personal heros/heroines that you would like to draw attention to, you can contact me on:
johnnicollendeavour@yahoo.co.uk Thanks

P.C. OR NOT P.C. (PART TWO)

Thanks for all your suggestions a little while back regarding the choice of a small gift for the little Asian boy that I have been escorting to school in a taxi for the last two years.

I eventually settled on a Colouring/Activity Book, Stickers and lots of coloured pencils and felt tip pens.They seemed to go down well.

On Wednesday he had to say goodbye to a teacher who had been with him for practically his entire school career. She's a nice woman in her thirties and as she knelt down to give him a kiss, a hug and a nicely wrapped present she burst into tears and had to retreat to a Staff Room.

My young friend didn't seem too fazed by this at the time but, later, in the taxi going home, his top lip started to wobble. I wanted to tell him that saying goodbye to the people that matter gets easier as time goes by but we all know that that's not true and so, instead, I settled for tickling his ear and, being seven years old, that seemed to do the trick.

Perhaps I shall wait until he starts his new school and send him a card to wish him well. Maybe it would be a good thing for him to know that though friends can't always stay in your orbit,often they can find ways of reaching out to you!