So it is Monday again, and predictably, now that we are on British Summer Time, there is snow falling up north. And more expected. I just stuck my nose outside and it is COLD. And wet. And revolting. So I decided against leaving the house at all.
Friday was the day for lawyers, and Glynis, Jean and I made our way to the meeting, and after 2.5 hours of talking and forms, my brain was fried. And the rest of me was not much better. So I fell asleep on the couch and woke at 2am. Saturday was supposed to be a rest and recover day, but it wasn't, and so I fell asleep on the couch and woke at 2am. Only it was actually 3am, because of the clocks leaping about. Do you see a recurring pattern here???? Exactly.
And yesterday, I unashamedly stayed in bed and watched the Grand Prix. Not that I am overly fascinated by racing cars, but it was on, so I watched. And then I retired to the couch and did nothing except some quilting. My life is so exciting.
And now I have spent the start of the day on the phone sorting out more official stuff, and am rapidly developing a loathing of all forms of officialdom. Bring on a desert island. I am struggling to regain the aura of being thankful for my many many blessings right now.
You know, I happened to watch a documentary on Archbishop Desmond Tutu a couple of nights ago, and it was fascinating. I knew him in Cape Town because Bishopscourt was close to the little church I went to, and I have helped out in his offices in my time. He used to come trundling in with the famous tea trolley at 11am every day... and preside over the teapot. He still does to this day, I gather. His infectious laugh and wonderful sense of humour is something I will always remember. Not to mention his wisdom and insight. He had a T-shirt given to him by one of the local vicars who happened to be the husband of a friend of mine - it said "Just call me Arch". And he LOVED it. And wore it too! People still call him Arch. There used to be protest marches, where the call was to "March with the Arch."
And this is where I get back to that struggling with the aura thing up above. In the interview, he was asked about his optimism, and he said...."I am not an optimist. I am a prisoner of hope." And that made so much sense to me when I thought about it. He went on to explain that, as Christians, we have faith, which gives us hope. And as a result, we are prisoners of that hope, no matter what happens in our lives. We can't let it go, because that would be denying our faith. And I glibly talk of optimism. Hmmm. Hope is not a negative emotion, is it. It is a positive one. But so much deeper than optimism.
I look at my life, and it does seem to be coloured by hope, rather than optimism. I truly believe that all things happen for a reason, and that God makes them all knit together for good. The fact that we don't understand it at the time is inconsequential.
And then he was asked what he would like as his epitaph. He had that one sorted long ago, he said. "He loved. He laughed. He cried. "
How perfect is that.