Hold my hand

A couple of weeks ago I took part in a reflection on the cross. Part of the reflection could revolve around Christ in the midst of our suffering. We were in a Church, but the day was beautiful so I took the opportunity to explore. As you walked out the side door of the Church you could see about four rows of twenty or thirty gravestones. Only one, in the furthest corner, was in the shape of a cross. I headed towards it, and as I walked I could see that there were more crosses in the graveyard, but this particular one drew me on.

Still thinking about the suffering of Christ, I read the inscription.

Name
Died 1983
1 hour old

I wept. As I wept I saw a butterfly land gently on the grave; a dog whined. I wrote a poem to try to describe that sacred moment.

Hold my hand

Hold my hand
O precious Christ

The butterfly kisses where the baby lies

Hold my hand
O precious Christ

The dog howls its lonesome cry

Hold my hand
O precious Christ

Ignorant traffic rumbles by

Hold my hand
O precious Christ

This baby died but an hour old

Hold my hand
O precious Christ

Alongside my pain

O precious Christ
Hold my hand.

The Princess and the Gentleman

'One day a young princess was on a walk. She was walking through a field when she bumped into an old, old gentleman, who had a very kind face. She looked at him and immediately loved him. She would of given her life for him then, if it had been asked of her, but instead he smiled, he spread his arms out wide and he hugged her. He said, "Hello Esther", he knew her name, she didn't have to tell him, he just knew. She felt like she knew him too, she stayed talking with the old man a very long time. He asked her, "Are you sure it is alright for you to stay as I would never wantto get you into trouble?" But she soon replied, "I do not mind", because every time she looked into his eyes she loved him. It was not a love that was forced onto her, but a love that she felt of her own choice, and she felt it strongly. She stayed talking to him, he told her many wise, wise things, things that if you and I were told we would not forget them for the rest of our lives. Soon the sun began to sink into the earth, and the moon shone brightly. Esther began to feel tired and as she sat there listening to the old man's voice she grew more and more sleepy, her head began to drop and in the end she fell asleep in the old man's arms. The old man sat and looked at the beautiful princess for a while. He knew she could not get cold, for he was always warm, as if there were a burning flame inside of him. He sat and he smiled at the little girl, he loved her with a love that could not be broken, the sort of love that a father shows for his children, but even better. Better than what is possible to imagine... When the little girl woke up, she slowly opened her eyes. She saw her bed, her duvet and the picture of her mum on the wall. She began to think, and as she did, she remembered how she had fallen asleep. She remembered the love that she saw in the old man's eyes, and she felt that love again. She longs to see the old man again and as long as she remembers that old gentleman's love for her, and as long as she shares that love with all the people she meets, she WILL meet him again... Ok so perhaps you do not like the story, it is not complicated but should not be taken literally. Perhaps you will not agree but for me this story is a metaphoric image of God and me. It is one of many images I have of him. For me it is also an image of the relationship that God can have with any person. I imagine a little girl because this shows the vulnerability that I have and the vulnerability that we all have. Maybe the little girl, for you, is a little boy but either way God loves me and God loves you, his love is unconditional and nothing can ever break his love for us.' by my sister