A Spacious Place by Georgie Tennant

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

I have been thinking about spacious places a lot recently – I’m sure many of us have, confined as we are, in a way we have never known before. 

I do not live in a spacious place.  I wrote in another post about the likeness of my house to Julia Donaldson’s “A Squash and a Squeeze” when my in-laws come to visit. Its two-up-two-down proportions certainly don’t lend themselves to it coming highly recommended on Trip-Advisor as “best place to spend a pandemic, with a husband and growing sons.”

The house isn’t the real problem though – I think I’ve known that from the start.  On my better days I am deeply grateful for any kind of roof over my head, food on the table and a location in walking distance of beautiful, flat Norfolk countryside.  The issue (as is so often the case) is more in my heart and mind.  It is one I am working on, with my ever-patient heavenly Father.

I can’t yet offer you a step by step guide to how to live and write effectively in a small place during a pandemic.  I am still very much a novice.  So instead I offer my expression of the essence of my search in poetry. 

I hope it resonates and helps you begin to identify a spacious place for your heart and mind too.

 A Spacious Place

A spacious place.

Doesn’t that sound good?

But you may as well give up trying to find one here.

You live in a small house.

Two-up, two-down.

There are four of you.

You do the maths.

There will always be someone there,

to trip you up,

to demand something of you,

to spoil your peace.

Perhaps I might recommend the toilet roll aisle

in Tesco?

Failing that, the flour section.

I’m sure no-one would mind

you pitching up there

with a camping chair

for a couple of hours.

You might as well try it –

No point in pursuing that pointless notion here.

Put Joe Wicks P.E. on for the kids -

that might buy you some time.

No? They want you to join in?

Oh well at least you’ll get fit

(once the muscle cramps have worn off).

Is that your son’s leg in your left ear?

Well move over a bit!

Oh sorry, you can’t, I forgot.

Small house, small lounge.

If only you’d managed to move

before an international pandemic –

things would have been better, right?

The voice of accusation

keeps going,

relentless,

unwavering

unmerciful

unscrupulous.

unhelpful.

It drowns out the good,

the pure, the noble,

the right, the lovely,

the excellent,

the reasons to be thankful.

It doesn’t help.

It isn’t to be believed.

It must be thrown out.

There is another voice, though,

if you listen hard enough,

tune in,

through the white noise,

the static

that can drown it -

One that speaks peace and hope,

laughter amongst the tears

peace amid the chaos.

It is One that has spoken

through centuries of hardship,

imprisonment, illness,

abandonment, turmoil -

whispering life,

It is One

that breathes life and hope,

truth and peace -

even when the house stays the same size,

even when we can’t go outside our own front doors,

even when our children are squabbling,

even when there is not a

single square metre

or split second

that we can truly call our own.

Even when our own thoughts torment us

and the walls are closing in.

He is with us

He will not leave us without help or hope.

He will rescue us and bring us to

a spacious place.

It might not quite be the one

we had in mind but it will be

His perfect fit

for

His precious child.

Georgie Tennant is a secondary school English teacher in a Norfolk Comprehensive.  She is married, with two sons, aged 11 and 9 who keep her exceptionally busy. She writes for the ACW ‘Christian Writer’ magazine occasionally, and is a contributor to the ACW-Published ‘New Life: Reflections for Lent,’ and ‘Merry Christmas, Everyone,’ and, more recently, has contributed to a phonics series, out later this year. She writes the ‘Thought for the Week’ for the local newspaper from time to time and also muses about life and loss on her blog: www.somepoemsbygeorgie.blogspot.co.uk