Preacher Al

I had a great uncle Al, a real character.  He was an Elim preacher and was always joking around.  My Dad was showing Al the sights in Northern Ireland and had driven up the mountain to show him a scenic reservoir.  Unfortunately, the officious security guard on the gate refused them admittance.  Despite all my Dad’s pleas, the guard was adamant.  Uncle Al leaned out the window and in a booming posh voice said

“I didn’t have this trouble when I was Governor of Bahamas!”

The red faced security guard waved them on through.  Uncle Al invited us to his church in Ballymena for a service and I was amazed.  People would shout out during his sermon, things like “Yes, Jesus!” or “Praise the Lord, brother” or “Thanks be to God” at the top of their voices.  I was fascinated it seemed so lively compared to other boring church services and so unpredictable.  At that moment, uncle Al introduced us to his congregation.

“Sitting there,” he pointed at my Dad with an outstretched finger, “is my nephew Bengy from Dungiven, who thinks we all descended from monkeys!”

The entire congregation turned and glared and we slid down lower in our pew.  But even he got fed up with being heckled.  There was a large lady in the front row wearing a huge hat with a single enormous feather at its peak, who screamed out at the top of her voice during his sermon the same phrase,

“Oh, for the wings of a dove, to soar nearer to thee, oh God”, again and again she screamed.

At last, Uncle Al lost all patience, and announced in a resigned tone

“Oh God, stick another feather in her hat and let her go!”

The entire audience roared in approval.  That was the weird thing about uncle Al he seemed to get away with the most outrageous behaviour without causing offence.  It was his abundant good humour that made everything palatable.  He died singing a hymn in his wife’s arms, happy and beaming to the end.

Pari

I remember your luminous smile.  Eyes bright and twinkling laughter lighting your face.  The kindness of your heart enveloping those around you.  So many acts of kindness that it seemed to be an addiction not a habit for you.  You came to my home on our grotty estate and painted our entire living room a happy sunshine colour.  Then brought a table, round and low and very fancy for cups and cakes.  Too expensive for our estate but so beautiful.  You came to my door loaded with vitamins and supplements, sensing my pain when no one else did.  When my studies were finished you had a surprise celebratory party for me.  I remember travelling in Poland with you and singing a morning prayer sitting on a rock beside you.   In the silence that followed, you turned and told me that it was the most tuneless thing you’d heard ever heard!  We laughed so hard I think I remember us  falling off the rock.  Your Lemon cake from the Aga that had melted syrup on top.  So many other acts of kindness too many to put on paper.  Table loaded with lovely food and the best coffee and tea on tap.  The hostess whose heart was as big as your home.

Somehow I couldn’t face the Dreen without you for so long.  Then your grandchildren visited and in those two I saw your smile in smaller features and felt the loss strangely eased.  You are still here in so many ways.  There, in those happy grins and here in our hearts always.

Taking flight

In the jungle of my mind several ideas take flight.
Not one or two but a whole flock.
Rising squawking form the ground they fumble to the sky
Most have not strength at all and fall into mud,
wings beaten to despair upon the ground
But one or two take wing and rise above the rest
Beat frantically upon the still air
Desperate to gain height
Unwieldy in the morning dawn
They rise slowly
Gaining ground the two soar above the tree line
Gain perspective of the forest floor
See the blue sky above
and begin to feel the sun’s rays
warm the feather of their wings.
Then unexpected, a predator swoops
Tasking one in piteous talons
with a burst of broken feathers
Life is torn out in seconds
The remaining bird frightened by the noise, the loss
Wheels away desperate for life for hope
Dipping wings it angles away
Through tree tops seeking shelter
Finding a hidden branch it lands
Covered for the moment by foliage
It pants its chest in exertion
Breathing in and out
Until fear subsides and the call to rise grows
It rises on an updraft
and soars up into bright blue
Fast of wing and true of heart
It climbs beyond predator and fear
Until high among mountain tops
it cries its exaltation.

Brussels Torment - best left unsaid

Was trying to write about a dreadful Brussels experience I had a few years ago while working as an independent Science advisor for the EU.  Often, dreadful moments with the passage of time morph into a funny story that can act as a catharsis for the humiliation or painful memory.  However, this one is too deep a scar to be joked with yet.  It took me four pages of writing to discover that the Brussels story is still far too raw and sensitive to get out of my system yet.

This particular story will have to gestate for at least another decade before it sees the light of day!  So in the words of Forrest Gump, “….and that’s all I am going to say about that!”

Uncertainty

Uncertainty abounds
making me question everything
suddenly I seem rudderless
still in the water
awaiting breeze or star
wondering how come
I feel so far away
without star to guide
or inner compass working

Donkey in Well - and goats in general

At times my life is really like a roller coaster of impossible situations that connect in unexpected ways.  I expect everyone feels this at times.  This week I found myself in an animal room at work with three small goats, a cat, seven rabbits and around two dozen students.  We were practising restraint and each one had to take it in turns holding the animals in position.  The students were nice the animals were even nicer and with good humour put up with everything we put them through.  The cat in particular allowed them to scruff her, wrap her in a make shift cat bag, lift her from cage to table with not so much as a sound.  The tiny goats stood calmly as student after student held them searched for a heartbeat.  I took photographs to record the restraint methods and a colleague spoke to the students of the three different types of goat we were using.  One was a miniature goat, which looked like the rest but was actually a year old.  Holding it was a trickier affair and at one point it launched itself in the air off the table, but was caught by the student in time.  You could feel the difference in muscles with this year old goat, sense it’s reluctance to be restrained by so many strangers.  No one was injured and all animals went home exhausted by all the handling but none the worse for their experience.  Hands were washed, safety observed.  The only thing I had not factored in was I had to teach the rest of the day smelling of goats.  People were actually backing away from me in corridors.  Some days life is like that, you think you’ve got through safe and sound and forget that one thing that comes back to bite you.  Here is a short piece that is not mine but I love it so much I wanted to include it here.

Donkey in Well story

“One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a Well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the donkey was old, and the Well, needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone’s amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey did something amazing. He shook it off and took a step up.

As the farmer’s neighbours continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

The rest of the story….

The donkey later came back, and bit the farmer who had tried to bury him. The gash from the bite got infected and the farmer eventually died in agony from septic shock.

The moral of the story….

When you do something wrong, and try to cover your ass, it always comes back to bite you.”

Hold Onto Good

Hold onto good, let go of all that is bad

Be a template for a human being

Reminding all of the virtues we need to hold

Be wise in both mind and deed

Educate all those you meet or be educated by them

When taking counsel use many heads

But have one thought

Make each day better than its yesterday

Your merit is in service and virtue

Not in the display of wealth or riches

Let your words be clear of idle fancies

Your mind be free of worldly desires

And your deeds be cleansed of cunning deceit

Waste not the bounty of this sweet life

In pursuit of corrupt affection

Or in self promoting endeavours

At every instant remember but two things

To understand all that fate and life brings

In your joy be generous, let every kindness be meant

In your despair or darkness be patient with what's sent

For as the sun follows rain

Your pain will turn to gain