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02/18/2007
Rose Claydon
I suppose most of you know a least a couple of my God Parents at least by mention. If you did not, be satisfied that I do possess them and have for the past 6 years or so.
I presume that the most mentioned are Jonathon and Victoria being the only couple actually living in Cambridge, and have for purely geographical reasons had the greatest impact on my (and my sisters) lives. I was, and now Emma continues to be a frequent baby-sitter to their 2 young children whilst visits there are always a pleasure no matter how brief. One of the delights of a Tuesday afternoon is being able to cycle back to school the long way and say hi on the way past. There is something in the fickle innocence of children - their utter inability to brood on problems - that makes any home, particularly that one, a safe place.
The other set of God Parents I have live in Colchester. Again friends of my parents I suppose the strongest link we had to them until a few months ago - bar the odd visit to and from - was their ties to sailing and Kestrels (being Commies of one of the summer cruises). I have always been grateful for this lifeline if nothing else. In truth Linda and Brian have had comparatively little to do with our lives as far as I could see, until last autumn. It wasn't until then that I realised just how much we have been watched and cared for even from a distance. It is good to know that you have another safe place however far. There is also considerable reassurance in that they have undergone some similar difficulties to us (in some ways) and come out the other side. Nothing will ever remove the image of Brian reading his daughter’s testimony because she was crying and couldn't make the words. Over the past couple of months it has been a great comfort to know their support and prayers for the entire family. I just hope we haven’t worried them too much.
However, I did not start this post to explain any of the above, in fact it bear very little relevance at all. These 4 people were chosen by my parents - of course we were asked if we were happy with the decision, but they were chosen for us. They were also shared between myself and my sisters.
Rose Claydon....
Here I will stop to sleep; I can write no more tonight.
:EDIT:
I never finished that post... so here goes.
Rose Claydon was a somewhat elderly Sunday school leader at my church around the time I was baptised; a little distant when I first knew her but a lovely lady all the same. I don't know what prompted me to choose her as my God Parent, but I did. I don't remember ever confiding in her much, but then again, at that time I don't remember confiding in anyone. All the areas of my life were separate so there was no reason to discuss problems at school with friends at church. I do remember greeting her at the end of each service and admiring her clothes or her nail-varnish - specially done up for a family do of some kind. I also don't remember any direct religious input from her that I responded to at the time - despite her role as a regular leader :S. I just loved her. Maybe that is religious input in itself, if God is love... I don’t know.
I went to her house for tea once - dressed very neatly, sitting correctly and mindful of my manners - Yes I *did* possess them. I don't recall much of what we spoke of - school, family, interests I suppose. One thing I do remember was the way she sat next to John (her husband and the quietest person I've met). The way she out her hand on his, the way she looked at him to confirm a comment she'd made regarding their time at school, how things had changed, or stayed the same... I forget.
There was something in the companionship of that couple and the love they shared, both with each other and all around them. Each in their own way they gave something to everyone. Of course I can only see that in hindsight, looking back with adult eyes at that memory. Looking back at the way the church overflowed more for Rose's funeral than any wedding I can remember. Looking back at how her husband stood with such calm agony, and how I never saw him again.
I only knew Rose for a few years before she contracted breast cancer. The visit to Arthur Rank House is one of the few things I can still recall. The joy and the patience she had in spite of her predicament. The way she smiled.
Then I forgot her. For years I forced her out of my memory. I got sick of seeing her face around every corner, mistaking people for her at church. I got sick of the memories spinning around my head, so I banished them and it no longer hurt. I no longer remembered.
So this post is ultimately for her. An amazing woman whom I loved dearly and whom I couldn't stand to loose. And also for the greatest lesson she taught me: that even if she can’t change your own situation, you can still do something for someone else's. And that a little joy, a little patience, a little love don't go long way... they stay forever.
So now I leave you with my baptism verse from her:
Stir up the gift of God which is in thee.
2 Tim 1:6
xXx
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