Forgotten Remembrances

I had a wonderful experience recently, being in the same room with and watching two remarkable talents. One was a teacher, Holiday Reinhorn. Holly has a natural gift for teaching creative writing magic. The other person was the student, Clare Jamal O’Brien. That’s Clare in the photo on the right. Clare is currently working on her PhD at Oxford. From here on, let me excerpt Clare’s words about what happened from her blog, Football and Faith.

While at the Changing Times Conference this past Christmas Holiday I attended a workshop lead by Holiday Reinhorn (who just so happens also to be Rainn Wilson’s AMAZING wife). She is also an award-winning author in her own right. We did some writing exercises to get our writing juices flowing and this is one of the pieces that I did. For each piece we were literally given 5-7 min so please bear that in mind… well, i also did clean mine up more than a wee bit, so bear that in mind too. Despite doing my PhD, which by default means that I should be a good writer I am not a writer. One of the ‘comments’ that I was given by my dear Professor during my Master’s degree was, “Clare, your writing is a breath of fresh air because you write very parochial, you write using very basic English”. I decided to take it as a compliment and embrace the fact that my writing is very simple, like many other things about me.

Forgotten Remembrances

I remember. I remember giving away the only thing that I thought I had left to give. I remember love.

And then I seem to have forgotten…

I remember counting down the days left till my period of service days I had given, wishing they would soon come to an end.

I remember the bugs in my bed, the green mamba I tried to catch and the friendly dog I named Rafiki, meaning friend.

I remember the Earth’s skin was turned red.

I remember the IVs in my arm, I remember the hospitals I frequented and the endless injections in my bum

I remember the tears, i wonder if I ever forget them or the sad puddle they formed in my path, and yet I fear that one day I will not remember them anymore and I will forget.

I remember the pain, the pain and the pain. I remember the days of endless nights.

I remember the shame that I felt, the shame of not being being perfect, of wanting to run away, of being tired of pioneering and ready for comfort and change.

Every morning as I would open my eyes it was first the foreign visions that filled up my mind. I would ask myself, as I did everyday, “why is it again that you wake up to these sights?” and then I would remember, I am here in love for You. And I was happy and tried to see the beauty where I didn’t see it before.

Every month as I got sick and visited the hospital with bucket in hand and fever on brow, I would ask myself, over and over again, “What do you love more than you love yourself?” and then I would remember, I am here in my love for You. And I was happy and waited for the sickness to pass.

Every time I had a lonely moment, and I had a lot of those, I Would ask myself, “why is it that you are here and not at home in the company of friends and family?” and then I would remember, I am here because of my love for You. And I was happy and tried to make friends.

I remember now that it was my pain, my tears and my discomfort that helped me to remember, when I started to forget, that it was my love for You that made me a pioneer. And I am happy once more.

Please visit Clare’s blog, Football and Faith.

Category: Featured, Leadership, Leadership Principles