This week has been characterised by remembering... making a photographic Memory Book for my mother (the photo above is her in her 20s travelling to or from the USA), and researching and writing a tribute for a  funeral. Each of these has been a strange blend of enormous privilege and huge responsibility.  Each has also prompted a lot of my own memories, about my own life thus far, about the joys and sorrows, successes and failures, the things that have shaped - or I have allowed to shape - my personality.  So it's also been a bit of an introspective week, one way and another.

One of my memories was of the poem cited below.  It is a memory prompt in its own right - I first came across it in a Lent Study back in the 1980s, and I am pretty sure my recollection of the church hall where we met is correct.  It struck me then, and it continues to stirke me every time I recall or read it...

One day, should I live long enough, I may well be a 'crabbit old woman', which is partly why I want to share it.  If this might be my 'destiny' then it also impacts on my now, the way I live, write, speak or whatever it is: I make my memories, and form those of me in others.

What do you see, nurse, what do you see?
What are you thinking, when you look at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
I do wish you'd try.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is loosing a stocking or shoe.
Who, unresisting or not; lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding the long day is fill.

Is that what you're thinking,
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes,
nurse, you're looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still!
As I rise at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who loved one another-
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet,
A bride soon at 20- my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure happy home;
A woman of 30, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last;
At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn;
At 50 once more babies play around my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known;
I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel-
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart,
But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joy, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years all too few- gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last-

So open your eyes, nurse, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer-
See Me.

These last four chapters of Exodus (I cheated and scanned ahead before I did my close reading) describe the making and erecting of the Tabernacle.  The text is highly detailed and repeats much of what Moses is recorded as having been told by God whilst he was on the mountain, so it is quite tempting to skim over it especially when some of it turns into the "church accounts" measured in gold, silver and bronze.

There are however things to be gleaned, if one has the time or inclination to dig a little deeper.

Bronze Mirrors

"Bronze Mirror" was the title of one my reading books at primary school - I remember nothing about it, except that it comprised myths and legends of Greek and maybe Roman origin.  These polished metal mirrors are alluded to in 1 Corinthians as the means by which we may glimpse "a dim reflection", a poor image and yet one that is worth seeing.

In the account of what is brought for the making of the Tabernacle, one detail is that the women who served at the edge of the tent of meeting brought their bronze mirrors.  These were melted down and used to make the basin which was to be used by the priests to wash their hands as part of their ritual purification.

The women chose to relinquish something that they valued, and that had allowed them to see their own image, presumably to tend their appearance, something associated with beauty and perhaps self esteem.  With no mirrors they had no way of checking what they looked like, which may have been a challenge for some of them... even I like to check I'm not too dishevelled before I go out or when I come in! 

I'm not quite sure what a contemporary equivalent might be, but I am intrigued by the idea of letting go of something that is associated with beauty or appearance in order that it be transformed into something used for purification or within worship.  I suspect, though, that were I to arrive at church looking like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, there would be - totally legitimate - comments!! ;-)

Many a mickle... or, Every Little Helps

A good chunk of the text is taken up with details about how mucc gold, silver and bronze was donated for the work.  Expressed in Talents, Shekels and Bekas it can seem a bit meaningless.  So I did a bit of digging around on the web and discovered that:

1 Talent = 3000 Shekels

1 shekel weighs roughly 10g

So, in contemporary measures that means

roughly 877kg gold

roughly 3018kg silver (just over three tonnes)

roughly 2124kg bronze (a little over two tonnes)

Huge quantities, and clearly equivalent to an awful lot of money in today's terms, even with fluctuating metal prices.

But wait, there is an easily overlooked detail... the silver is donated by the men aged 26 and over counted in the census - numbered as 603,550.  The average amount per person is therefore half a shekel - called a beka - or roughly 5g.  According to one website I  looked at, 5g of finest quality silver has a scrap value of about £1.50.  Irrespective of the purchasing power, that's not a lot of money.  Yet when everyone gave their £1.50 worth of silver... Many a mickle maks a muckle, every little helps... we know this, yet still sometimes it's good to be reminded of it.  I for one can be guilty of focussing on the huge sums that required for projects to the detriment of valuing the 'mickles' or the 'bekas' that mount up.  There is balance somewhere - simply, and solely, collecting pennies is probably not going to finance a building project or fund a mission worker, however well intentioned.  At the same time, focussing on big numbers can disempower those who would gladly give their half a shekel, or their bronze mirror...

Again, it's the details that are so easily overlooked that are striking.  A reminder that the little things matter, the 'little people' matter and their gifts are often, as with the widow and her two tiny mites, the most valuable of all.

This week, possibly prompted by my reading of the Exodus story and the nomadic, wandering existence of the Hebrew people, I found myself recalling how long I'd lived in various places... and however I count it, six and a half years in Glasgow is the third longest, with "Dibley" a close fourth.

Longest at one address:

1. Burtonwood, Warrington (11 years)
2. Duston, Northampton (9 years)
3. Glasgow (6.5 years)
4. "Dibley" (5.75 years)