Falling and false fancies

On the 31st of July I was visiting my son and family in Folkstone with my mum.  We had flown over to look after my grandson while his childminder was off on holiday.  He is a delightful child and full of energy as only a 2 year old can be.  My mum and I worked together and found it delightful getting to know this little chap.  

There is something about being the major caretakers that creates a bond between you and a small child.  There is also much laughter and smiles when small children are involved.   Every night when my mum took her medication Charlie would haul himself up on the  sofa to get a better view of her taking her inhaler, sprays, pills, lotions etc and roar with laughter at the sight.  It was as if she was putting on a nightly show for his entertainment.  He never tired of this routine and his reaction made us laugh each night.  

Seeing a small child examine the sea, the stones, the insects reminds you of the amazing world we live in.  It is all so completely new to him you are reminded of the miracle of even the simplest thing around you.  Then on the third day while walking Charlie along the sea front my mum fell.  It was a bad fall and somehow both she and Charlie ended up on the ground.  My mum’s injuries were considerable and included a fractured elbow, bruised ribs, a colourful blow to the side of the head and a large bleeding wound to the arm.  Picture the scene, a two year old crying on the ground with a small cut to his palm and my eighty two year old mother lying not far away in agony.  We were on an isolated promenade by the sea and quite some distance from a road or town.  

As we pondered what to do a couple of joggers appeared, aged 20- 30 both male.  I supported my mother’s shoulders on the ground waiting for the shock to pass and the two joggers passed us by without a word.  A distraught two year old and a bleeding eighty year-old were obviously not on their exercise programme that day.  I asked Charlie to bring his great granny some water from the buggy and with tears running down his cheeks he raced to the buggy and brought the water bottle. 

Three weeks have passed and recovery has been slow, painful and steady.  The medical staff in Folkstone were fantastic, my son and his wife looked after us with much love but what sticks in my head for some reason is the sight of those two joggers ignoring us.  They had to run around all three of us.  I keep wondering what on earth were they thinking?  Was there some other priority that took precedence?  There are times when you just have to scratch your head and wonder, just what is going on in this world.  Has present day isolation taught us to be immune to human suffering?  Does the plight of others leave us cold and indifferent?    Are we all too busy with our own concerns to react?  I have no answers but only questions.  Can we even see those less fortunate than ourselves?  Do we see the world we live in and those we share it with?  

Through the eyes of a two year old this world is beautiful full of beauty.  Charlie is still at that stage that he greets everyone in a cafe as though they were his best friends.  He is as fascinated with an ant as an eagle.  All of this world is there waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.  At what stage on life’s journey do we turn away from each other and cease to care?  Does our inability to register the needs of others coincide with our inability to be truly happy?  

To my Nephew, James

It has been a pleasure watching you turn from an active toddler to a steady young man.  In my mind you are ever the tiny two year old who could not stand still but bounced on his toes as if anxious to start the race of life.  So much energy and so interested in everything.  Always so eager to make a start, with mind racing on in this direction and that.  Stoic and thoughtful you come at life strangely settled inside.  As if all the major decisions have already been taken somewhere.  Those important ones concerning principles, direction and morals.

I love your delight in creativity as it finds an echo in my own path.  How mundane not to create something fresh and rub ones hands in glee at its creation.  Not dependent on adulation, financial reward or even applause.  It makes life worth living and watching you listening to a track of your latest musical piece, eyes closed in concentration, head back to feel the music and shaking side to side slightly as if absorbing the sound waves selectively, is a lovely image.  May each day bring more such births along.  When so much nowadays is bring torn down, besmirched and corroded it is even more vital to be creative.  When destruction seems the key word today then let creativity be ours.  It is good to be choosing a different path.

I am firmly convinced creatively is a kind of inspiration.  It comes from somewhere outside us, but finds expression inside.  We just have to be clear channels to allow it out and share it with others.  So may the year ahead be filled with loads of inspiration and may your channel ever be clear.