Looking Deeper

 

 

 

‘Searching for me
You look everywhere
Except beside you
Searching for you
You look everywhere
But not inside you’

 From the song ‘Peace’ by King Crimson

What do we see?

When we look at someone what do we see?

What are we looking for?

What are we looking at?

What are we expecting?

What are we discerning?

A few years ago I reconnected with a group of old schoolfriends whom I had not seen for over 40 years. We now all meet regularly, and I thoroughly enjoy our get togethers.

The first time I met with the group, one of my former friends (one with whom I had been especially friendly back in the day) was asking about me and I mentioned that I had Multiple Sclerosis. He looked somewhat taken aback and blurted out ‘But, David, you look so well!’. That is not an uncommon response, although in this case, my friend being a GP might have led me to expect a somewhat more nuanced reaction!

Other than when I have a relapse (which, thankfully, are rare, and usually mild) few would notice that I have MS. But that’s because people do not see the hidden issues, which are more often experienced,  and which are many and can prove restrictive and place constraints on aspects of normal living.

Even when people know and are aware, they quickly forget or are surprised when I indicate that I am finding things difficult.

That’s all fine, and I am used to that, and used to having to explain things when (for example) I have to call off at the last minute because I am fatigued, or have to dash to the loo because of urgency, or when I have to take a rest, or find a seat etc. But you cannot always explain to strangers on (for example) a crowded bus or train when you remain seated while elderly people or pregnant women are kept standing . (Usually, I do get up and give those in need a seat; most days, I can cope with standing, but on occasion it would not be possible, and that is embarrassing).

You do not usually have the opportunity to explain to those who are looking at you somewhat sceptically and suspiciously, why you are sprinting (surely disabled people can’t do that?) to a disabled toilet…

…or why you have suddenly stopped conversing because brain fog has descended and you can’t find the words…

…or why you have to leave the party very early…

…and so on…

In my family, I am not alone in having ‘hidden’ conditions. The others who have (different and unrelated) challenges in this regard would also ‘look’ fine and appear to be ‘fully functioning’ on first meeting or in a general conversation.

But, as one who sees them close up, and knows them very well, their ‘disabilities’ are very real, and the restrictions on normal living are considerable.

People do not usually see that, and even those who are close to us, I think struggle to fully understand.

That is not surprising, when there are few visible signs.

But it does all make me wish that we could all find a way of ‘looking deeper’ and seeing those things that are not, in fact, entirely invisible, if only we had the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the will to understand and accept.

Speaking for myself, when those close to me do understand, when friends check out how I am, when people make the effort to try and accommodate my occasional limitations, I find that very supportive and encouraging, and I appreciate it very much.

Looking deeper can be a way of loving better.

Game, Set, and Match

 

 

‘All things must pass
All things must pass away’

From the 1970 song ‘All Things Must Pass’ by George Harrison.

 

  

Well, what a Men’s Final that was at Wimbledon on Sunday!

As several have said on TV, radio, and in the newspapers, it seems to herald a ‘changing of the guard’. A new generation of players, spear-headed by (but not confined to) Carlos Alcaraz, is moving in on the territory which has for so many years been dominated by Djokovic (whom Alcaraz beat), Federer (who has now retired), Nadal (who was absent from Wimbledon because of injury), and Murray (who watched the match from amongst the crowd, having been knocked out in an earlier round).

The times, they are a-changing!

As I watched the match and especially when I reflected on its outcome, I thought back a couple of months to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland which was held in May, and which I attended as a Commissioner.

When I retired last year, I kept saying that I would also step back from all active involvement in the governance of the church. My reasons for so doing felt right, and I thought I was at ease with that resolution.

Except, when I was asked to consider being a Commissioner at this year’s Assembly, I said ‘yes’.

Why?

Nostalgia? Denial? Pride?

I’m not very sure.

But I do know that I have always been one of these strange Ministers who really enjoyed being part of the General Assembly, wanted to play my part in the governance of the Church, was eager to be involved, and so on. And, over the years, I have been privileged to have been able to have the opportunities that I have had to engage in these ways. It was not always easy, but it was generally very fulfilling and energising.

But, I will not go to the Assembly again.

To be honest, I had a niggling sense of unease in the weeks leading up to the opening of the Assembly. And when I was there, although I enjoyed my time, met up with folks I hadn‘t seen for a while, and even spoke in a debate (not an unusual occurrence for me, I’m afraid!), I won’t go back.

Times have moved on; the way of doing things has developed; there has been a changing of the guard; the folk whom I was used to seeing in key roles were conspicuous by their absence, while newer (younger) people were in key positions.

It felt odd.

Of course, things inevitably change, and people move on, and new folks take up roles. That is as it should be (and – for the record – I have all respect for those now serving in key positions, although perhaps less respect for some of the ways in which we now do things!)

But, along with all of that, I need to let go, I need to recognise that in this new season of life, I can best serve the church in other ways.

Game, set, and match!

And perhaps it is not just in terms of the General Assembly or the governance of the church that I need to continue to work at embracing this new season of my life, and working out just what it means for me.

All things must pass.

 

 

 

It's the Thought That Counts

 

 

‘I just called, to say ‘I love you’;

I just called to say how much I care…’

From the 1984 song ‘I just called to say I love you’ by Stevie Wonder.

 

 

 I have had an emotional day.

Perhaps that is why I am feeling so tired now!

I have been clearing out various boxes and files from the attic. To be honest, most of these are things that ought to have been sorted out (and, mainly, disposed of) many years ago.

However, as I have been sorting through these various papers, letters, cards, and notes, I have re-read many, and elected to retain some.

And, as I have read some cards and letters from many years ago – received in a time of illness or bereavement, or when I was ordained to Ministry , or inducted into one of the congregations I served, or as I left one of these congregations, and so on – I have been deeply moved; sometimes to tears.

I had not expected that!

Some of these cards would take but a moment to write and send. Some of the letters may have taken a little longer, but still not a very long time. I suspect that those who wrote them will have long since forgotten doing so (that is, those who are still alive). But what enormous encouragement, comfort, hope, etc they brought to me at the time and of which I was reminded as I read them again today.

The sender will not have thought much about it after sending it, I suppose. But here I am, years later, feeling hugely comforted and encouraged by them (not to say, rather emotional!).

Although phone calls cannot be filed and re-visited, I know that these can also be appreciated and treasured by recipients. When I get a call (or, nowadays, a message on WhatsApp or Messenger etc) which comes out of the blue, and is for no particular purpose other than simply to make contact, say ‘hi’, suggest meeting up, etc) then I feel lifted in my spirits.

It takes so little, but means so much.

Alas, I fail miserably at phoning others as much as I should or could. But, I do try from time to time. And I think folks do appreciate it. However, I am better at writing cards, notes, or letters.

Many years ago when I was first in Ministry (or was it when I was training?) I had a conversation with a more senior colleague (with whom I still have contact from time to time). I think I must have said something affirming or encouraging in passing (I cannot now recall). But what I do recall is receiving from him, a few days later, a postcard (handwritten of course) on which he had put down a few words of appreciation.

Over the years I have received many more such cards from him, and from the day of the first, unexpected postcard, I resolved to write short cards or letters or notes of appreciation to others, rather than let their comments, affirmation, or actions go unacknowledged.

Depending on who it is, I may sometimes do that nowadays by electronic means. But more often I will choose to handwrite a card. I think that the effort to do so says something in itself.

And so, throughout my Ministry, I have written hundreds of cards to members, parishioners, guest preachers, the bereaved, the sick and so on and on. I cannot remember the vast majority of these notes, cards, or letters. But, if my experience today of reading so many that I once received is anything to go by, then I suspect that these messages I have sent over these past 45 years have brought hope, encouragement, or comfort to others.

And that is good to know.

And my occasional (but too infrequent) phone calls or messages may have done the same for some.

It doesn’t take much, but what a difference it makes.