Unexpected

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

Not even me, not that I’m expecting it.

On the contrary, when something happens, unexpectedly, you’re like

“No way…” or “Flippin’ eck” or “Why me?”

So, here it is.

Imagine, if you will, the scene

And, without realising, you are being showered-

With silver confetti.

Yeah, you got me. Silver. Confetti.

Hmmm.

Oh, this didn’t happen in reality- thought I’d add this in- but

In a picture so real, so life-like that all I could do was immerse myself in that moment

Of pure bliss, of absolute peace, of amazement.

And the ” why me?” question came into play, and not for the first time, I hasten to add.

You see,some truly wonderful, albeit slightly off kilter stuff, has happened.

Stuff that has taken my breath away, left me wondering “why me?”

Why me, indeed.

I’m beginning to get the picture, which is still slightly out of focus.

Um, a little bit more than out of focus.

Sometimes, I can see only edges, blurred lights.

Other times, it’s as clear as a bell,

And all sorts in between.

There’s me, sitting, soaking in all the beauty, the sheer love of life when

Boom! There it is. Falling confetti.

Did I mention it was silver?

Small, tiny fragments, larger pieces, but all falling gently, quietly.

Wow.

Some picture, eh?

And so we’re back to the question “why me?”

In fact, why anyone?

Why should anyone be that special, that highly thought of.

Honestly?

All of us.

“Oh, come off it!” I hear you say (though maybe in words that are too strong to type right here)…

You can’t be talking about me!…

Seriously?  I really don’t think so!…

I mean, who would think of me that way? Bet I can count them on the fingers of one hand..

You’re having a laugh; it’s a practical joke, isn’t it?…isn’t it?

Hand on heart, I can promise you, it isn’t a joke.

And while we have have differing opinions of ourselves, some that have been given in an act of true love or ground into us, some taken on by pressure, or forced on by (un) popular consensus,

I truly believe that there is One Love, higher, truer, deeper than all,

A Love that loves us more than we’ll ever know,

A love that knows how many hairs we have on our heads ,

Or in some cases, the number of skin cells, should we be follicly challenged.

A love that walks with us, runs with us, sits and hugs us,

Embraces and surrounds us, knows no bounds love.

A love that can’t be measured or fully understood.

This love is for you.

This love doesn’t keep reminding you about what a failure you are,

This  love doesn’t put you down, hold grudges.

This  love doesn’t abuse, mentally or physically.

This love is real love; no holds barred.

This Love…

Stone in my shoe

That feeling when a small stone gets stuck in your shoe,

The way it irritates your skin, the tiny nicks and cuts,

Abrasions, rubbing together.

And even when the stone is gone, it still hurts

Because flesh has been caught, pulled open

By an insignificant object.

As you walk, the skin catches,

So you stop to assess the damage.

Redness, sweat and dust have gathered

Causing your toes to swell.

You sit and rest, moving your feet to increase the blood flow.

Thankfully, right at the bottom of your bag , is a plaster

Which must’ve been there for some time now.

Easing the wrapping off, you delicately embrace the wound.

It stings and you take a short, sharp breath.

The cushion between your toes feels safe, comfy;

Toes move in appreciation of your action.

And the stone? Flung far away.

Some might say that this is an attempt to say, in written form, the pain

Of words that are thrown to cause grief; small comments made to give maximum impact.

They’re absolutely right.

And my reply is this. As soon as you find the stone, stop its actions,

Take away its ability to stifle you, take away its need to hurt

And bind the wound so that it heals and, when you are ready,

Remove the dressing, the caution, so that the air can get to it.

Let love and kindness be your salve,

Be your source of comfort and joy.

And tell others that there is a way,

A way back to life,

A road that, although small stones may strew it’s way,

Is the road whereon you will find truth.

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