January 2018

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A welcome guest

One day it arrived.

It rushed in like a wind blowing open a door which was left slightly ajar, as though there might be a very small possibility of a visitor arriving later. “I’m not staying up for you but you can let yourself in you need”.

And by the morning it had come. But it wasn’t a visitor in the normal sense. It was a feeling,
A feeling with a deeper meaning. A peacefulness had entered in before I had time to scare it out again, and it had settled right here inside.

At first it felt so foreign I didn’t recognise it. But then my heart knew its name. It was forgiveness.
I had forgiven you, as you had forgiven me. Bitterness no longer being entertained had sculked away. Anger had followed it. And forgiveness had arrived.

With this new guest came a deep sense of peace. And I asked the peace to stay; and it said it would.

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Paint me a Picture by Helen Sherwin

Paint me a picture.
What of? 

Of a pretty pub I once knew whose garden backed onto the churchyard.
Where people would sit and chat with a beer, comfortable in the company of their neighbours.
And on Saturdays you could see wedding parties arrive. And later, newly weds exiting in a whirl of confetti and laughter; ready to take on the world.

Paint me in the corner under the Sycamore tree. The very time we first met.
When I was watching Larry on that spring day whilst my Dad was inside talking to the vicar.
You stroked his mottled coat, whilst enquiring after my name and winning me with your wild eyes and even wilder hair.

I smiled.

Paint me that picture, and forever capture a moment when we were happy.