Finding Time to Stop and Stare
What is this life if full of care
We have not time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep, or cows?
-
William Henry Davies
Welsh Tramp and Poet, 1871-1940
Yesterday I should have been at Legoland, Windsor, accompanying my nephew for his tenth birthday treat from his Auntie Amanda. I'd already postponed once, thanks to Storm Dennis, our tickets kindly carried over by the Customer Services Team for a few weeks, when things were supposedly going to be 'back to normal'. Hmmm.
Instead, courtesy of Coronavirus Covid-19, I found myself with a spare sunny spring Saturday on my hands. What better way to spend it than doing a little local exploring?
Local exploring is my new favourite thing. Having lived elsewhere for a few years, I returned to the Isle of Sheppey eigtheen months ago. Before moving away, I had lived here since my teenage years, but on my return I have begun to realise there is so much to be explored and discovered here of which I had been previously unaware. Now I am back, and armed with an OS map, a thermos, a pair of binoculars, a warm coat, my trusty walking boots and a healthy dose of curiosity, I am making it my mission to put that right.
It's not that my little corner of the UK is anything particularly more wonderful than anywhere else (although, those people who might sneeringly suggest the very opposite is true - including a few cynical residents - should note that before travel was being discouraged Sheppey made it onto a list compiled by The Guardian of 'Nine amazing places in the UK to enjoy the beauty of Spring'.*) How one place might compare with another is not really the point. This has been the revelation that I have come to see: when one makes the effort to get out and about, and is willing to really 'stand and stare' on the way, it's amazing how places that seemed completely unremarkable before can be quickly transformed into worlds of endless wonder and discovery.
Who knew that the 'spaces' on the map where no houses stand are not, as I previously viewed them, just 'empty' pieces of land on either sides of the road, but hills and fields and marshes with names, and history to be stumbled upon, and habitats teeming with life? Who knew that those are not just 'birds' outside, but greenfinches and goldfinches and bluetits and coal tits and great tits and starlings and sparrows - and if you know where to look then kestrels and marsh harriers and skylarks and pipits and linnets and egrets and lapwings and redshanks and herons and coots and shelducks and tufted ducks and wigeon and avocets and so many more, all with their own colours and calls? And that's just the birds!
And you know, I think the same is true for people. Since I started my new job earlier this year, as a hospital chaplain, the question of what my role actually is is one that I keep returning to and pondering. One aspect of it, I think, is to seek to 'see' people; that is to be present and look and listen long enough to get past the obvious - the frail old woman who's had a fall, the grumpy trouble-maker who makes a fuss because he doesn't like waiting, the polished and professional doctor, the semi-invisible cleaner in the background, and so on - and from there to encounter each person accordingly and holistically. That sounds pretty nebulous I know - it does in my mind too. The setting of a broken leg or the administration of another dose of chemo are so much easier to quantify. But a tag left on our chapel prayer tree this week reminded me that the need for this kind of ministry is both real and deep: 'Help me God. Nobody sees me'.
The need to feel seen is, of course, really about the need to feel valued. When we show an interest in getting to know someone more fully, we are communicating to them that they are worth our time and our interest. And the following words from the Gospel of Luke about a God who 'sees' are really about affirming our inherent value to Him:
It's not that my little corner of the UK is anything particularly more wonderful than anywhere else (although, those people who might sneeringly suggest the very opposite is true - including a few cynical residents - should note that before travel was being discouraged Sheppey made it onto a list compiled by The Guardian of 'Nine amazing places in the UK to enjoy the beauty of Spring'.*) How one place might compare with another is not really the point. This has been the revelation that I have come to see: when one makes the effort to get out and about, and is willing to really 'stand and stare' on the way, it's amazing how places that seemed completely unremarkable before can be quickly transformed into worlds of endless wonder and discovery.
Who knew that the 'spaces' on the map where no houses stand are not, as I previously viewed them, just 'empty' pieces of land on either sides of the road, but hills and fields and marshes with names, and history to be stumbled upon, and habitats teeming with life? Who knew that those are not just 'birds' outside, but greenfinches and goldfinches and bluetits and coal tits and great tits and starlings and sparrows - and if you know where to look then kestrels and marsh harriers and skylarks and pipits and linnets and egrets and lapwings and redshanks and herons and coots and shelducks and tufted ducks and wigeon and avocets and so many more, all with their own colours and calls? And that's just the birds!
And you know, I think the same is true for people. Since I started my new job earlier this year, as a hospital chaplain, the question of what my role actually is is one that I keep returning to and pondering. One aspect of it, I think, is to seek to 'see' people; that is to be present and look and listen long enough to get past the obvious - the frail old woman who's had a fall, the grumpy trouble-maker who makes a fuss because he doesn't like waiting, the polished and professional doctor, the semi-invisible cleaner in the background, and so on - and from there to encounter each person accordingly and holistically. That sounds pretty nebulous I know - it does in my mind too. The setting of a broken leg or the administration of another dose of chemo are so much easier to quantify. But a tag left on our chapel prayer tree this week reminded me that the need for this kind of ministry is both real and deep: 'Help me God. Nobody sees me'.
The need to feel seen is, of course, really about the need to feel valued. When we show an interest in getting to know someone more fully, we are communicating to them that they are worth our time and our interest. And the following words from the Gospel of Luke about a God who 'sees' are really about affirming our inherent value to Him:
"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."
Luke 12:6-7
And here's the amazing thing that I have discovered in my re-discovering of Sheppey: it's not just true that when we take time to really see something, we demonstrate that we value it, but it's also true that when we allow ourselves to 'stand and stare' awhile, those things - and people - that perhaps we did not value so much before, can reveal themselves as wonderful and precious and valuable in ways we suddenly can't believe we previously missed.
I realise it might be a little naive to think that the enforced social isolation over the coming weeks will mean we all suddenly have loads of extra time on our hands. For many people, I know, quite the opposite has been true in the scramble of a rapidly changing situation and the need to adapt significantly and with speed. But with many of our usual leisure activities no longer available, and with unpopulated outside spots the only places for which it can be safe for us to leave our homes, it is certainly my intention to take the opportunity for a bit more 'standing and staring'. Perhaps you'll join me. What marvels will reveal themselves to us as we do, I wonder? I can't wait to find out.
I realise it might be a little naive to think that the enforced social isolation over the coming weeks will mean we all suddenly have loads of extra time on our hands. For many people, I know, quite the opposite has been true in the scramble of a rapidly changing situation and the need to adapt significantly and with speed. But with many of our usual leisure activities no longer available, and with unpopulated outside spots the only places for which it can be safe for us to leave our homes, it is certainly my intention to take the opportunity for a bit more 'standing and staring'. Perhaps you'll join me. What marvels will reveal themselves to us as we do, I wonder? I can't wait to find out.
* https://www.theguardian.com/the-magic-of-train-travel/2020/mar/02/nine-amazing-places-in-the-uk-to-enjoy-the-beauty-of-spring, accessed 21/03/20
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