Kingfisher

16th May 2011

This morning I walk down Honiton High street with my father, his hatless head bent into the wind as he pushes his wheeled trolly in front of him. He has lost ten pounds and he looks frail. He says he’s still feeling so-so. He uses the word mamate - meaning so-so, which his parents used when they were missionaries in China - the only Chinese word he remembers as boy. When we get back to his room I defrost his freezer, change the sheets on the bed, chop up a salad for his breakfast. I cut him a piece of the banana and sweet potato cake I made yesterday - he says it’s not quite sweet enough but he eats it anyway. He falls asleep in his chair, his tea growing cold, while I wash up.

At home I find he has send us a gorgeous card with a close-up photo on the front of a kingfisher. Inside he writes:

‘Whatsoever things are true and beautiful, think of these things...’

It sounds biblical and l google it - Phillippians 4: 8.

What’s true and beautiful today is that I am so grateful for all the dearly beloved people in my life who are walking beside us, leaving their footprints of love next to ours in the sand. Making it possible for me to take the next step.

And I know one day I will catch sight of a kingfisher, skimming the surface of a river somewhere, flashing gold and sea green in a light beam.