To go from the newness of an early morning dawn and the innocence that is always around us, to the change of atmosphere, feeling and somewhat ugliness of a truthful life with all its hurts and challenges. It is like not wanting to get up from our warmth, wrapped safely in our bed and the security of home to meet the difficult world outside; to encounter the compartmentalised lives of others, to share a train carriage and an overheard and awkward conversation, and to be nudged and bumped by people discarding coats and bags to sit down. In a brief moment, I am thankful for what I have, the richness of having food to share and a house to return to at the end of the day; hanging on to the sense of a family that my Mum, as a single parent, worked so hard to keep together.
To where we are now, working to exist with all that life and struggles throw at us. The life I had glimpsed on the fells as a life I would love is held in start contrast to the life I lead now. But I am grateful for those precious glimpses of another reality. I am blessed to have been granted these.
My drawing shows me being wrapped up in the warmth that is His, a nurturing shawl of healing, love and prayer. Oh how I long for this on some days, when my umbilical cord is out of sync with the Divine.
Malcolm’s spoken word is here.