From dead skin cells, we came

 

                                                                        Picture credit: BBC

This morning, an invasion of dust got repelled from our home. I deployed the vacuum in anger and my better half showed the dusters some serious front-line action. I’m pleased to report we won the battle, if not the war. The last job was to empty the dust canister into the bin to be disposed of. Dust that gathers in our homes is a disgusting mix of dead skin cells, bacteria, the remains of insects and other delights. Yuck. Yet, according to Genesis 2, God formed us from nothing but dust before pumping some air into our lungs. Maybe dust isn’t meant in the literal sense here, I don’t know, but it shows God has a use for everything. Even specks of dust.

As a pantser, my writing often starts off as little more than specks of dust. Not very inspiring. Fit for the bin, you might think. When I started this piece, I only had a vague notion where it was heading. All I had was a fragment, a mere wisp of an idea. I never quite know when one of these scraps will appear, but it’s not usually when I’m trying to look for one.

A few weeks ago, feeling rather decadent, my wife and I went to the cinema on a Monday afternoon. The Brutalist is over three and a half hours long and we feared dozing off if we went in the evening! During the film, one character says something like ‘you’re not what I thought of’ and for reasons I can’t explain, I immediately knew this was a speck of creative dust I had to do something with. I sent myself a note, so the fragment didn’t drift away from me and as soon as I got home, the words of a song emerged. Have you had any moments like this? Here’s what I made from this speck of dust.  

 

You’re not what I thought of

... they said you were a star,

You’re not what I dreamt of

... they said you came from afar,

 

I thought you’d be taller

And richer and louder

But you were much smaller

And poorer and softer

So how come you conquered the grave?

 

You’re not what I thought of

... I heard you were a king,

You’re not what I dreamed of

... they said salvation you’d bring

 

I thought you’d be stronger

And more like a warrior

But you were much weaker

And weirder and stranger

So how come you conquered men’s hearts?

 

You’re not what I thought of

... I heard you were God’s son,

You’re not what I dreamed of

... they said you were the one

 

It’s because you were smaller

And poorer and softer

Because you were weaker

And weirder and stranger

That’s how you captured my heart

 

You’re not what I wanted

You are what I needed

Yesterday, now, for all time

You’re not what I wanted

You are what I needed

Yesterday, now, for all time