Words Waiting by Emily Owen

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On the cover of Ruth Leigh’s novel, The Diary of Isabella M Smugge, Fran Hill writes, ‘Reminds me of Austen, but with added Instagram, selfies and hashtags.’

Judging by Fran’s words above, Isabella and I are very different.

I had a message from a friend yesterday: ‘Great Instagram, Emily.’

Dear reader, I am not on Instagram (apparently a poem of mine is though).

I have a dislike of cameras, let alone selfies.

#IAmNotGreatWithHashtagsEither

Undeterred by Isabella’s raging social media success, I thought I’d share with you a recent Facebook post of mine:

‘5-year-old niece is learning to read. On zoom yesterday:

Her: “A Hen In A Pen”

*Pause

Me: “A hen in a pen?! Wow!”

Her (clearly thinking I overreacted): “A pen is like...um...a small container.”

I’m thankful to her for ensuring I no longer imagine a hen squashed into a biro.’

The post generated a few comments – fowl puns ranged freely – culminating in linking hens and biros to Matthew 24: It is easier for a camel/hen to go through the eye of a needle/fit in a biro...

I was more sensibly reminded of the insides of pens at the weekend, when a friend sent me a beautiful quote from a book she’s reading; The God of Small Things:

'Rahel's new teeth were waiting inside her gums, like words in a pen.'

Exquisite, isn’t it?

Words waiting.

  Lord, even before I say a word, you already know what I am going to say.

Psalm 139:4

Saying, or writing, God knows our words before we do.

May our writing come from His dictation.

As I mentioned above, in my non-Isabella-esque Facebook post, my niece is learning to read.

I helped her cousin learn to read, and now it’s her turn.

But now we are in lockdown. I can’t sit beside her, my arm around her as she points to the words she’s reading. I can’t do that. I’m also deaf, which makes it harder. It’s difficult to lipread the top of a little head on a screen, which is bent over a book, earnestly sounding out words I can’t hear.

But my niece wanted me to read with her. I did, too.

Before our first ‘Doing Reading’ session, I thought about how it could work, and I thought the best thing was for her to show me the page before she read it, so I’d at least know what was coming.

As it turned out, she’d already thought of that: the first thing she did was hold the first page to the screen, before reading it to me (and as she read she made sure, as much as she could, that I could see her lips. I’m adding that detail as nothing other than a bit of an aunty-boast).

So, I knew what she’d read before she read it.

I’d seen the words on the page.

A hen in a pen.

Words which, when shared, brought a lot of joy (see above!).

God knows what we’ll write before we write it.

I find that encouraging, especially when words are eluding me.

Words waiting are not words unknown.

And, when they stop waiting and arrive, they bring joy.

You reveal the path of life to me; in your presence is abundant joy; at your right hand are eternal pleasures.

Psalm 16:11