As well as being inspired to write a Ghazal poem at writing group last week I also started this story.
We were only warming up with a short time of free writing based on a picture prompt chosen from a set of postcards.
I chose the one of the girl in the yellow dress, I didn't notice her expression, or the fact she had a flower in her hand but her dress reminded me of daffodils so I started off...
"Her dress was daffodil yellow..."
And then I was off. I've since changed the beginning and who knows quite where it will end but this is part 1
He was dressed like James Bond, very suave she thought, the unmistakable
tailoring of his suit had the air of extravagance to it.
“You’ve picked a good one this time.” She silently congratulated
herself.
As she was assessing his worth she noted he was making his own
appraisal. She was thankful for her friend Clare whose skill with a needle created
a masterpiece that showed off her curves to best effect.
Seemingly he approved too, his smile was both dangerous and disarming
and something inside her fluttered.
Her dress was the colour of rich butter; she was no longer a
margarine girl from the council estate. She was off to a grand ball, only
Sebastian had neglected to tell her it was a black and white "do".
As soon as they entered the ballroom her mistake became apparent
even to her uneducated eye. She stood out for all the wrong reasons, a lone
daffodil in a bouquet of exquisite lilies. Common – that was the only word for
it.
Suddenly she was fourteen again in a hand-me-down dress at
the school disco. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Sebastian realising
his faux pas of picking the wrong kind of flower was nonchalantly looking
around and ever so slightly distancing himself from her.
It took courage not to turn her back on the lot of them and
run. She didn’t belong here, that was painfully obvious. Were they already
sniggering? Or was it her overworked imagination?
In the split second of deciding what to do for the best to
salvage the situation a waiter appeared by her side.
“Champagne?” Glasses sparkled elegantly on a tray presented
to her. “The colour perfectly matches your dress.” He added with a wink and she
knew it would be rude to refuse.
Of course Sebastian had completely deserted her by this
point, but she stood a little taller, breathed deeply and took a sip…
How will it end? I have a few ideas, I'll keep working on it and hopefully will share some more soon!
Last night at my writing group I was introduced to a Ghazal
poem.
To be honest I wasn’t sure before I went if I would enjoy
the evening, although I dabble with poetry some of our group are much more
proficient poets.
However as I’ve not managed to make it to the group for a couple of
months I thought it really was time to get my writing groove back and flex my
sleepy imagination.
As we progressed through the session I began to enjoy fitting
my rhymes into the structure and I was still playing around with words before
bed and finally came up with this…
Garden Ghazal
“Come with me,” he said. Let’s
ramble in the garden.
He leads me on, our hands
entangled in the garden.
“Let’s go this way,” and I
follow, lost in wonder
“Mind the bluebells; please
don’t trample,” in the garden.
Wildlife hidden, but “look a
squirrel!”
And some pheasants startle, in
the garden.
As the years go, as time
passes
Plants will grow and weeds
will strangle, in the garden.
Last week I spent a few days away on a New Wine Christian
conference for Women and Leadership. The accommodation was excellent, food
superb; the speakers were challenging and the worship was amazing.
On Friday morning we began our worship time by singing
Give Thanks to the Lord,
our God and King,
His love endures forever…
with the chorus
…Forever God is faithful
forever God is strong,
forever God is with us,
FOREVER
Immediately I was transported back to another moment in time
when I sang those words with gusto.
It was exactly 6 years earlier as I drove to church for one
of our regular community breakfasts. It had been raining a bit but the sun was
trying to shine and as I drove and sang the most beautiful rainbow appeared
directly over the church where I was headed. And I thanked God for all his
promises, his goodness and faithfulness to me. God indeed is VERY GOOD.
Little did I know that 2 days later my husband would die
unexpectedly from a heart attack.
The song we sang next was Everlasting God
Strength will rise as we WAIT upon the Lord…
…You are the Everlasting God
You do not faint
You don’t grow weary
You’re the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like
eagles
I couldn’t believe the song choice, although why should I
have been surprised by God? This was a song we had played at Andrew’s funeral
but it’s been a long while since I have stood and sobbed rather than join in
with the singing. Instead I listened once more to the words of promise, those
comforting words that God is with me all along. That rainbow was a foretaste
of God’s amazing faithfulness as he has provided for my needs and never left me
through these years.
However faithful God is, it is WAIT that has been my word
for this season and it has lasted soooooo long.
While the boys have grown, moved schools, taken exams and in
the case of oldest son even gone off to university I have remained STUCK, still
in the same house, which hasn’t sold. I’ve been frustrated, resigned,
motivated, let down, energised, demoralised and through all the ups and downs I
WAIT for a new season to begin.
A few years ago I was at the New Wine summer gathering and
God gave me a glorious reminder that he was still with me and had many
blessings in store.
I thought my life was about to turn around from that moment
but years later still I WAIT.
So often I have felt that I am on God’s pending pile,
someone He will deal with tomorrow because there are so many other situations
in the world that hold His attention.
Of course God’s not really like that and He has made me
promises that there are blessings to come and so I hold on to them and WAIT a
little longer.
At this conference I shared a room with someone I’d never
met before. When I checked in my room-mate hadn’t arrived but by chance or
God-incidence we happened to be sitting at the same table for dinner.
“Do you need a miracle?” She asked.
“Ummm, I don’t know!” I was hesitant. We all dream of having
our prayers answered but was a “miracle” a bit excessive for my needs.
“Oh well I got this sense earlier in the week that I should
buy a bottle of perfume called MIRACLE for whoever I was sharing a room with.
But if you’re not sure perhaps it is for someone else after all.”
And so we left that conversation there and turned our
attention back to the delicious meal before us.
Later that evening we shared a few stories but I knew I held
back. There was a time when I would have startedby saying I was a widow but I’ve come to a place
where I don’t want my loss to define me, I still wear my wedding ring, although
I went through a phase when I didn’t.I
am learning to tell less of my backstory as new chapters are being written. In
lots of ways I am moving on.
Besides saying “I am a widow” is a real conversation killer
as people struggle to find the words to say back.
However the next day, sometime after our most meaningful
worship time, I found the opportunity to share.
The words and tears came tumbling out. And the real issue at
the moment is not the grief or singleness but our mini mansion of a 7 bedroom
house, in its own grounds set in just the wrong location, an area in the North
East where houses, particularly of this magnitude are just not selling.
This year I have had 2 serious offers on it, I even instructed a solicitor to get the paperwork started and I
dreamed of finally moving and starting a new life somewhere more manageable,
closer to church and my friends.
Both buyers pulled out and I am faced with the prospect of a
future here on my own. One son is already at university, the other has started
A levels, these next two years will fly by and then what do I do?
“You do need a MIRACLE!” Said my room-mate. “I should have
trusted my conviction.”
She produced a beautiful bottle of sweet smelling pink
perfume in a shiny box full of promise.
There was a story to her purchase; running late, she only
just made it to the shops in time with 2 minutes to spare but there was the
perfume on display in front of her.
MIRACLES are meant to be, divinely ordained to happen at
just the right time.
And I know for sure my MIRACLE is on its way, too many
things are pointing in the same direction and some things I can’t share here
and now but one day I will…there is so much more to this story and that's just the bits I know about, God's overview of proceedings is like a rainbow encircling the whole.
And just to make sure I don’t forget, guess which song is
currently getting a lot of airplay on the radio with a brand new version by
Simple Minds and KT Tunstall…
Yes God I am listening, still waiting for now, but I have a
lot more hope in my heart that this season is almost over and the fragrance of
MIRACLE will one day fill the air.
( I have scattered old blog posts throughout this and here is one final thought on fragrance - a short story called The Musings of Martha.)
I thought I
was such a rock chick dancing along to Def Leppard’s Animal. Thursdays were student
night at the Hungry Years Nightclub. And that was the tune guaranteed to get
everyone on the dance floor. “And I want, and I need, and I lust – Animal”
Hang on a
minute - I never knew until google that “lust” was in the lyrics. I was
searching for love…
It was the
late eighties, I was a student, probably a very naïve one, the only time I
invited a boy back to my room for coffee, I really meant coffee! No lust
whatsoever!
His name was
Rob, I’d been eying him up all year across the dance floor or over breakfast –
we were in the same halls of residence so he would have been sat three tables
away and not directly opposite me with just a bowl of cornflakes and piece of
toast between us.
It was
nearly the end of the summer term, practically my last chance to find that
elusive boyfriend before going home for the holidays.
We’d been to
the ‘Years, as we used to call it, and somehow we ended up sharing a taxi home.
It was probably Katie’s idea, she was also in our halls of residence and not
afraid to talk to boys like I was.
So I made
him coffee and we may have even swapped phone numbers and addresses but this
was the era before social media and mobile phones; he never did get in touch.
Summer came
and went. When we returned to the Hungry Years the music had shifted. It was
all S Express and Pump up the Volume.
I spied him
once more across the dance floor but by then he’d caught the eye of another
girl. I think she was Scottish but where I got that idea from I’ll never know.
But she certainly was a wee fresher who stomped in time to the beat. “Mini
Stamper” was the moniker I gave her in my head as I glared in her direction.
Rob was
captivated “I got the hots for you” as the song goes but I’m not sure if he
ever looked longingly over in my direction again. Perhaps she made better
coffee!
By the
following summer he was all forgotten as a group of us sat on Brighton beach
listening to Eternal Flame by The Bangles. By then I fancied Mike or was it Jon…
If only either of them would notice me!“Say my name, sun shines through the rain… I don’t want to lose this
feeling.”
But even
those flickers of fantasy turned to dying embers, the flames weren’t really as
eternal as they promised.
A few years
passed and then you came and turned my world around. As Whitney warbled I will
always love you I knew I’d found my one and always. You were nothing like the
boys of before. They were boys of summer, merely for a season.
But in the
end so were you, but you were like autumn, forever.
And If I
can’t have you, I will always have our song.
