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8 June 2008
Word on the Web
Meditations for Life's Journey - Loss
From the Wise Traveller Series
Today's Word on the Web follows a different format to our normal pattern and uses material from the "Wise Traveller" series of meditations for life's journey on loss. The material is copyright Scripture Union and used by permission.
Wise Traveller
Opportunity-taker
I remember the autumn when, as a child, I discovered conkers. It was amazing! Nestling beneath a horse chestnut tree was a host of spiky packages. I peeled each of them open to reveal a ready-carved and newly-polished wooden egg, rich and shiny, with red veins streaking its veneer.
On that first day I rushed around collecting armfuls of them, to set down on my bedside table like precious jewels; resolving that I was never going to give them away. Then each morning afterwards I'd wake up and admire them. They were so beautiful! Yet as time passed, a horrible change came over them. After a while they began to shrink and warp. The red veins disappeared and they shrivelled into hard, brown, lumpy little stones. Deeply disappointed, I threw my 'jewels' away.
With hindsight I don't know why I didn't try planting them instead of trying to preserve them as they were. Then, with a little nurturing, perhaps I could have seen the birth of a new tree, a treasure box of potential.
Sue Wallace
The last time I saw you, I wish we'd talked about the day of the picnic. It had been a glorious day and we'd spent all morning preparing the food. It made quite a spread when it was laid out. Then, as if it had been deliberately waiting for maximum effect, the heavens opened. Our food and our clothes were soaked in seconds. You just began laughing and soon I started laughing too, both of us sitting there in the rain with our sodden banquet laughing and laughing.
It was so good to see you laugh; you rarely found much to laugh about. Often, instead, you would tell me once more how ashamed you were of me, or how I should've work at school. I would then respond as always by blaming you for ruining my life; telling you how it had felt to grow up with parents who were always fighting, and how impossible you were when you got drunk. And so we would argue. There was no laughter the last time I saw you.
The last time I saw you I wish I'd told you I loved you, and that I'd forgiven you. I knew how hurt inside you were too. I wish that had happened instead of the shouting, the stamped feet and the slamming door. But I didn't know it was the last I'd see you, we didn't know how ill you were. Did you? If only I'd known the last time I saw you, So I'm saying now the things I wish I'd told you, I don't know if where you are you can hear me, but I hope it's a place in which you are laughing again. If you can hear me, hear what I really feel, forgive me for what I said the last time I saw you. And if there is a place where we will meet again and be able to say all the things face to face we didn't say before, then the next time I see you will be so much better than the last time I saw you.
Steve Hollinghurst
For more information on Wise Traveller see Wise Traveller - Meditations for Life's Journey
This material is copyright Sripture Union 2007
Word on the Web
Meditations for Life's Journey - Loss
From the Wise Traveller Series
Today's Word on the Web follows a different format to our normal pattern and uses material from the "Wise Traveller" series of meditations for life's journey on loss. The material is copyright Scripture Union and used by permission.
Wise Traveller
Opportunity-taker
I remember the autumn when, as a child, I discovered conkers. It was amazing! Nestling beneath a horse chestnut tree was a host of spiky packages. I peeled each of them open to reveal a ready-carved and newly-polished wooden egg, rich and shiny, with red veins streaking its veneer.
On that first day I rushed around collecting armfuls of them, to set down on my bedside table like precious jewels; resolving that I was never going to give them away. Then each morning afterwards I'd wake up and admire them. They were so beautiful! Yet as time passed, a horrible change came over them. After a while they began to shrink and warp. The red veins disappeared and they shrivelled into hard, brown, lumpy little stones. Deeply disappointed, I threw my 'jewels' away.
With hindsight I don't know why I didn't try planting them instead of trying to preserve them as they were. Then, with a little nurturing, perhaps I could have seen the birth of a new tree, a treasure box of potential.
Sue Wallace
The last time I saw you, I wish we'd talked about the day of the picnic. It had been a glorious day and we'd spent all morning preparing the food. It made quite a spread when it was laid out. Then, as if it had been deliberately waiting for maximum effect, the heavens opened. Our food and our clothes were soaked in seconds. You just began laughing and soon I started laughing too, both of us sitting there in the rain with our sodden banquet laughing and laughing.
It was so good to see you laugh; you rarely found much to laugh about. Often, instead, you would tell me once more how ashamed you were of me, or how I should've work at school. I would then respond as always by blaming you for ruining my life; telling you how it had felt to grow up with parents who were always fighting, and how impossible you were when you got drunk. And so we would argue. There was no laughter the last time I saw you.
The last time I saw you I wish I'd told you I loved you, and that I'd forgiven you. I knew how hurt inside you were too. I wish that had happened instead of the shouting, the stamped feet and the slamming door. But I didn't know it was the last I'd see you, we didn't know how ill you were. Did you? If only I'd known the last time I saw you, So I'm saying now the things I wish I'd told you, I don't know if where you are you can hear me, but I hope it's a place in which you are laughing again. If you can hear me, hear what I really feel, forgive me for what I said the last time I saw you. And if there is a place where we will meet again and be able to say all the things face to face we didn't say before, then the next time I see you will be so much better than the last time I saw you.
Steve Hollinghurst
For more information on Wise Traveller see Wise Traveller - Meditations for Life's Journey
This material is copyright Sripture Union 2007
