A Bridge Too Far, Or Not

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, I can’t quite believe the ingenuity of the human race. I’ve caught a few bits and bobs of the Olympics, marvelling at a thirteen-year-old girl winning a bronze medal for skateboarding, swimmers powering through open water and runners reaching almost superhuman heights of speed and endurance.

I think I’m all the more impressed because I know that there is no way I could ever be anything like them. But it doesn’t stop me admiring their stamina and achievements.

Closer to home, I’ve been thinking about a friend of mine in the village, insanely talented in her own specialist field but very modest about her achievements. Fifteen years ago, when we moved to Suffolk, I had a six-month-old baby and a three-year-old and knew no one. Coming from bustling metropolitan Essex with a large and supportive friend network, I felt anxious and lonely. We moved in winter, so while I spent a fair amount of time shivering in play parks encouraging the three-year-old to play while begging the baby to sleep, I didn’t really meet anyone. The two village toddler groups were my saviours. I met women who had children around the same age as my own, who knew the ropes and who welcomed me in. At Wednesday toddlers, the group was run by my friend Clare and a tall, statuesque blonde woman with a soft German accent. Her elder son was the same age as mine and pretty soon, we became friends.

She worked from home and I had a vague idea that she had something to do with violins. We were all too busy ferrying little ones to nursery and trying to stay sane in a vortex of tantrums, illnesses and a relaxed attitude to toilet training to really get to know that much about each other. As the children grew and we had more uninterrupted time, I learned that my friend was in fact a one of the world's most respected violin retouchers. 

Iris trained to build and restore stringed instruments and is so well-regarded in her field that it’s not unusual to find a Stradivarius or two hanging up in her workshop. She has a God-given talent for restoration and in her hands, a priceless instrument finds new life. She’s taught all over the world and recently launched her first online course.

Sitting up in bed with a cup of tea the other morning, I listened to a podcast on which she featured. The two interviewers talked about a world I didn’t know, a world in which Iris features significantly. It was utterly fascinating. Two things in particular struck me.

Iris spoke about her Christian faith and said she asks God for help all the time. In her workshop, He is welcome and very much part of her everyday life. The interviewer quoted this line, new to me. “A rising tide raises all ships.” I loved that. 

I’ll never be able to hold a Stradivarius in my hands, gaze upon the bridge and work out a plan to restore it. Neither will I win any medals for sport. But God has given me the gift of writing and for that, I thank Him. I’ve spent far too long envying others’ gifts and wishing they were mine. That’s not the way. Listening to my unbelievably talented, modest friend reminded me of that.

“Do not neglect your gift, which was given to you through prophecy when the body of elders laid their hands upon you.” I Timothy 4:14.

If you’d like to find out more about Iris, you can visit her website here: https://iriscarrrestorations.com/.

Images by Pixabay and courtesy of Iris Carr Restorations

Ruth is a novelist and freelance writer. She is married with three children, one husband, two budgies, two quail, eight chickens and a kitten. Her first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge”, came out in February this year and the sequel, “The Trials of Isabella M Smugge” comes out this October. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities, reviews books for Reading Between the Lines and blogs at ruthleighwrites.co.uk. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter at ruthleighwrites.