Who's calling?

Who’s Calling?

Then the Lord made answer:  Write down the vision, insert it on tablets, ready for a herald to carry it with speed, for there is still a vision for the appointed time.  At the destined hour it will come in breathless haste, it will not fail.  If it delays, wait for it; for when it comes will be no time to linger.                                          (Habakkuk 2)

Like many other people in lockdown, I have been using the extra time at home to do some spring cleaning.  One day at the beginning of this month, I was up in the attic when I caught sight of a framed picture which, many years ago, I had hung on my classroom wall, in the hope of inspiring my pupils – and myself!  Thinking that it would make a good topic for Our Golden Network, I took a photo of the picture and transferred it to my computer, ready to illustrate the text, which I had begun to compose.  But somehow the words just wouldn’t come in their usual flow, and so by the 18^th of June I was feeling more and more puzzled and frustrated.

Nowadays I need a siesta in the middle of the day to ‘recharge my batteries,’ so after my lunchtime snack I took myself off to bed, hoping that a snooze would help me to think more clearly.  But what happened next turned out to be far from clear!

On getting up again, I checked my phone for missed calls.  I found that there had been one from an unknown number.  It didn’t begin with 08, so wasn’t a company call, nor did it have a local code.  Curious, I dialled the number - and the following conversation ensued

Unknown Lady:  Hello?

KB:  Erm, this is Kathleen, returning your call.

UL:  What?  Who are you?

KB:  I’m Kathleen Bates, phoning from Prestwick.

UL:  Prestwick?  That’s in Scotland!

KB:  That’s right.  Have you ever been to Prestwick?

UL:  Oh, yes…  I remember going there once on holiday in 1955, when I was 15.

KB (after a quick calculation!):  Oh, so you’re about the same age as me!

UL:  Well, I’ll be 80 in July.

KB:  Really!  My 80^th birthday was last August.  How are you managing in this lockdown?

UL:  My daughter buys my shopping.  When she comes with it, we sit well apart in the garden, or I sit in the living room while she stays in the kitchen.

A very pleasant chat followed.  I discovered that her name is Pauline and that, like me, she is a widow.  Her husband, Fred Beattie, who died 8 years ago, used to say that the Beattie family originally belonged to Scotland – somewhere on the east side - until his great-grandfather plus five brothers all came to Lancashire – why, exactly, Fred didn’t know.  Perhaps in search of work?  Or perhaps because of the typhoid and cholera epidemics in the mid-19^th century?

I asked if there was any family connection with Beattie’s biscuit factory in Glasgow, where I lived until the age of eight.  I remember enjoying the biscuits, and how I used to giggle when reciting a “naughty” little rhyme – which I proceeded to repeat to Pauline - somewhat lowering the tone of our talk, I’m afraid!  (I wonder if any of my contemporaries remember it?) Beattie’s biscuits are the best, In your stomach they digest, Pull the plug and they go west (= get lost, disappear), Beattie’s biscuits are the best!  As Pauline replied that she didn’t know, I promised to make enquiries.

We went on to discuss the huge adjustment we each had had to make as widows, especially when going on holiday alone for the first time.  Pauline had gone back to Malta, where she and Fred had spent many happy hours. She made a hotel booking for three weeks.  But just after arriving there she fell and broke her wrist and had to go to hospital.  However, she didn’t tell her son or daughter, not wanting to upset them. 

“They got a big shock when I arrived at the airport and saw my arm in plaster!  But, you know, a lot of people at the hotel felt sorry for me, so they talked to me a lot and I didn’t feel alone for the rest of my stay.”  She went on, “Fred and I used to do everything together.  He didn’t like to stay indoors in the afternoon, so we went for a walk every day.  Looking back now, I’m afraid that that was a mistake.  I don’t have any friends now.  I used to have, but they have died…”   

Then she asked, “Why did you phone me?”

“But I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “I was just returning your call.”

“But how could I have known your number?” she asked, perplexed.

Ah, how indeed?  That’s the delightful question!  Another one to add to my large collection of inexplicable happenings, including the mystery which I described in this year’s January blog post.  I suddenly realised that this, rather than the framed picture, should be my topic for June!  Food for thought…

For who was really calling?  Which of the 80-year-old widows living alone in lockdown?  Had it somehow or other been arranged at an unseen spiritual level?  How easy it would be just to brush it all off as unimportant, a mere case of ‘crossed wires.’  But how did they become crossed?  Could that, rather, have been a means to an end? A little, much-needed source of company to lighten our day?  I don’t pretend to have an answer.  I only know that this unexpected contact brought me joy by its completely inexplicable nature!

The last week of June is always one of very mixed emotions for me.  This year the 26^th is the 33rd anniversary of my beloved husband’s death.  (33 is a number which always reminds me of Bob, as he was born in 1933.)  But then June 27^th is the (56^th) anniversary of our wedding day, which I still remember with great joy.

 Over the years the copy of the Bible which Bob gave me for my birthday in 1984 has been a source of great comfort and peace.  I begin each day by reading the passage recommended in my current Upper Room booklet, but end the day by opening the Bible at random, often rediscovering precious marked passages which have brought me strength in the past. 

For example, in John’s Gospel (14), Jesus promised that after his death he would send the Holy Spirit as advocate and comforter to everyone who obeyed his two commandments: to love God with all our heart, and our neighbours as ourselves.  In Matthew’s Gospel (5) he said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”  In addition, I have been spiritually refreshed by so many astonishing coincidences that I have come to think of them as signs of the “living water” which (in John, 4) Jesus described as “an inner spring always welling up for eternal life.”

So, this month I am, once more, full of gratitude for another lovely thought-provoking mystery, and can’t help murmuring “Nice one, Holy Spirit!”  By way of celebration I will end with this beautiful little prayer which my friend Muriel taught me:

And now may the God of hope fill us with joy and peace in believing, that we may abound in hope, in the power of the Holy Spirit.  Amen