Poem

A Cloud of Witnesses

It has been a while since I last wrote in this blog. Life has been going on. I've had treatment, I've been into work on a part-time basis, I've seen friends and family. I've had time to think. Then a few days ago I caught a post-treatment infection and ended up in hospital for 8 days. It seemed at the time a cruel blow and one that upset my equilibrium emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I hate hospitals. I'm naturally shy so the thought of sharing a bay with strangers terrifies me. As it happened God used the occasion to remind me that I am surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. People sent texts, people prayed, Gillian and Sam visited, I had communion. There was never a moment when I wasn't aware that God's people were surrounding me and amazingly I was privileged again to see Jesus in not just the staff but the patients. The ones who were dying but thanking God for a blessed life. It was humbling. On the Sunday my bay shared communion together and two of the men hadn't been to church for 40 years but felt a need to reconnect with God. Communion created a community and the three of us grew close in that week with a spiritual friendship unlike many I have experienced. One patient Alan challenged me so much it was like sitting with Jesus as he held a mirror to my life. This poem is about Alan but really about Jesus who does not accept my illness as an excuse for complacency.

A Cloud of Witnesses

quietly lying, patiently enduring
he held onto the hope that tomorrow
he could go home
to his derby shire stone terrace with a view of the hills.
given 3 weeks to live he has refused to die
and fights on, still things to do.
his life, looked back on is one of
selflessness, goodness and care
a sacrificial life lived to the full
for the sake of others.
a pioneer, an advocate a champion of the oppressed
he presents me in his bed
with a picture of Jesus
and what a life lived for Jesus could be, should be
when we let go of our selves
now in older age, bed bound mostly
or chained to a wheelchair
his memories blaze like fireworks
drawing gasps of wonder from those who witness them
as they explode in the dark