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A scene of hope

This is a post about life, and finding hope in what you have, where you are.

The church is ancient. The village is in the Bayeaux tapestry, King Cnut’s daughter is buried there, the place goes way back before anything I could claim to be ‘my time’ or really my understanding of time.

I was in the midst of it, and for a few moments time I was aware of the scene around me.

I sat with my cello, tucked at the top end of the church, away from the action, beyond the choir, beyond the organ, behind the people, and pretty much out of sight. The point of my being there was to be heard, not seen. I was early, and the choir was warming up, looking over a new song. They sat in rows on opposite walls of that bit of church, some to my left and some to my right, and I could look between them, straight down the aisle to the stone and flint wall at the back of the building.

 

Voices on either side, mouths opening-closing, intently looking at music, young, old, thick, thin, educated, uneducated, those with city jobs, those with the earth in their garden as their job, grannies, grown-ups, my son.

In the distance a silhouette of a girl through the sun-lit window halfway up on the far wall of the building, in the tower, grasping the thick grip on the bell-rope, pulling it down to the ground and reaching back up over her head, in a rhythmic down-a-bit, up, down-to-the-ground, UP off her feet!, and grab the rope again sort of motion.

There were people bustling about being busy, greeting others, and having a natter.

I was still, watching.

I was aware somehow of people all playing a part toward a common something. It was an awareness of how the good things, the small things, the jam sandwich, the cup of tea, the thank you, the lift home for someone – all seem small at the time, but all help – maybe more than we know.

For every time someone thinks they are useless or insignificant, I want to capture this moment in a box, give it to them (or to you or to myself) and look in and say, look there, it all helps.

For singing, for music, for welcome, for peace. It all helps. We must not forget that.

 

 

2 Comments Post a comment
  1. How simply beautiful! Your words painted a picture so clear and encompassing….life!

    October 9, 2017
  2. Kenn Heller #

    How wonderfully descriptive. Felt like I was there with you. Thank you

    October 8, 2017

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