From a spark to a flame

I half-expected to catch it, at some point, but when I started a sore throat less than two weeks after my booster jab, I believed I was in for a cold. The next day I felt worse, and wondered if it was flu. The day after that I did a test, and there they were, two bright red lines. From then on, food and drink tasted like liquid cardboard, or possibly, muddy river water, and my brain was definitely fuzzed, or more fuzzy than usual, depending on how well you know me.

And now here I am, testing negative, taste buds reviving slowly, and feeling as if I’ve completed... not a marathon, no, but possibly a senior person’s sprint for a bus. That’s not the worst thing though. My self-confidence has dissolved. There isn’t a single little shred of it left. I want to sit in a comfortable chair, stare at the sky and think of trees.

Maybe the new terrifying war in Israel and Gaza is stressing me out. Two groups of people who both claim to descend from Abraham. Are we not all God's children?  

I looked at the sky. I felt bad about bothering God with my problem, my wish to shut the world out and pretend it doesn’t exist. Then one phrase from a song drifted into my head—then another—then another. I might have said from no-where, but you and I know that’s not true.

Hope for despair…

Friend of the weak…

Let tears fall like rain…

Moments later the first line came softly in, and I had to leave the chair and locate Graham Kendrick’s whole beautiful song on YouTube. Beauty for brokenness.

Working on this blog, I’m thinking that many writers suffer from a lack of self-confidence. Maybe disguising it as a lack of time, a lack of opportunities to explore new ideas, or develop existing ones. I do that myself. Life coach and author Sophie Hannah tells us to believe in our future success, believe that we will achieve success in one way or another. Perhaps not the kind we dream of, but success all the same.

So what about this? God is the best kind of life coach. He enables us to look back and be thankful. He knows writers have to be the kind of people who weather rejections and failure, feelings of despair or worthlessness. 'Knock you off your perch' sort of emotions or events. We have to trust that with Him these experiences are for learning and growing... (she said, looking herself in the eye.)

The door-bell rings. It’s the parcel man. Last time he called I stepped back into the hall and told him I had Covid. Today he asks, ‘Are you feeling better?’ and I am able to answer, ‘Yes, thank you, I am.’ 

'Even if not completely yet, my silent brain adds,' at the same time acknowledging I am touched that he remembered. 

Perhaps we can all sometimes be the right person at the right time for someone, whether we lack self-confidence or not. 

Photos are Veronica Bright's own.