The Wounds of God

"My mother was a resourceful woman, not easily defeated, but worrying about money was one of the few things that would reduce her to tears. More often, though, when she was anxious, she would be bad tempered, irritable and sharp with us all. It was at the end of a week like that, that Beth's letter about the school outing came.

I got out the loaf of bread and the pot of blackberry jam for tea while Mother read through Beth's letter again.

'It's not bad really,' she said, 'and it's a month off yet. Perhaps she'll be able to have some shoes.'

'I wish we were a bit richer,' I said, getting the margarine and cheese out of the fridge, and bringing knives and plates to the table.

'I don't,' said Mother. 'I know it sounds odd, but I don't. I couldn't bear the thought of people who have no homes and are cold and hungry, if I always had enough. I know I get cross and upset about it, but I would be no better off for covering up my weakness with money. It's good for me to know the places where my soul falls down, and it's good to have to lean on God and ask for his help. I know it's not very nice for you when I'm ratty, but maybe it will help you to understand people better than you would have if you'd been too protected from the realities of life.'"

From my Sustaining Book: The Wounds of God, volume two in The Hawk and the Dove trilogy by Penelope Wilcock.

The stories in this trilogy are told by a mother to her fifteen-year-old daughter, about a community of Benedictine Monks in Yorkshire in the 1300's. When I return to the pages of these books, though, it is often the reflections on the mother and daughter that captivate me.