Losing things

It was overcast when I woke up. I listened to 'Thought for the Day', then posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp. Last night I dropped a pair of specs causing a lens to pop out. As I don't wear them all the time, taking them on and off during the day loosens one of the screws binding the frame. If a tiny screw pops out altogether it's often lost. On this occasion the screw hadn't detached. All I needed was a fine screwdriver to reassemble the frame and tighten it up generally. I have a box of small ones with an assortment of heads bought for DIY work on computer hardware in the last century. They have lived in the same place on a shelf in my study ever since, noticeable in their blue plastic box. I had no idea where they could be in the house. Eventually I found the blue box inside a compartment of a big heavy tool box. 

How they ended up there I have no idea, but after thinking about it for a while, I remembered using one of the tiny screwdrivers to open a voltage testing device to replace its internal battery. I don't completely forget things, but remembering is slow, piecemeal and not infrequently the timeline is jumbled.

Remembering for me nowadays is like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. I mislaid the repaired specs at breakfast time and had no recollection of taking them off when I don't need them, and putting them down by the side of the bread bin. When I hunted for them, I didn't recognise what my eyes must have seen when I searched. Clare spotted them fortunately, rescuing me from a long panic stricken house search.

We went to the Ash Wednesday Eucharist at St Catherine's, and had our foreheads daubed with the sign of the cross using the traditional paste of palm cross ash, water and oil, rather too much oil, which dribbled a bit. The Gospel reading warned against conspicuous piety. I guess we came out feeling more embarrassed than penitent. Those with receding hairlines or long hair tied back were spared messy black fingers from attempting to brush strands of hair out of their fields of vision. Me included. I would be a lot happier if we could make a little ritual after the Blessing and Dismissal where members of the congregation wiped each other's brows clean of ash with a few words about forgiveness and reconciliation. That would express the sacred mystery of being 'members of one another' in sharing God's mercy and compassion.

After coffee in the church hall, I called at the pharmacy to collect the clot dispersal meds ordered on Monday, and then went to the Coop for some yoghurt before heading for home. Jorja our house cleaner is poorly today, so Clare and I did necessary housework after taking a siesta. Meanwhile it rained, spoiling the prospect of a decent afternoon walk. Rather than get soaked, I settled for doing less today. To hell with step targets, sometimes, especially when the meds are giving my brain a hard time and slowing me up. It's when rotten weather with blustery wind makes me feel vulnerable even though I'm steady on my feet. The toxic mist in addition to low light mild visual impairment that cause me to question how keen my senses are. Thankfully no accidents so far.

By supper time my light headedness had cleared enough for me to spend the evening writing a Lenten Ember Day reflection on a difficult passage from Galatians for next Wednesday's Morning Prayer, combining it with a brief summary of the content of the second chapter of the Lent Book 'Receiving Jesus'. I wasn't sure it'd all hang together until I completed it and was pleased with the outcome.