Plunging my hands into a great vat of washing up water this evening I once again realize what a great blessing doing simple things can be. Just the familiarity of the pots and pans, the ladles, the brushes and worn out green scrubbers are balm, not to mention the water itself. All of these things add up to a sense of much appreciated groundedness in the midst of feeling somewhat disorientated.
Earlier in the day I’d had some routine eye tests and had drops to dilate my pupils. The effect takes quite a few hours to wear off and in the mean time the world is rendered mighty strange. I found myself thinking what it must be like to be a refugee. Disorientated, vulnerable, not able to trust ones experience of the world and to a greater or lesser extent, reliant upon others.
I remember somebody who was working to supply a refugee camp with water having to make a decision about the use of the water supply. To send it here, to provide showers or there to provide for some other need. I can’t remember the details so well. But I can imagine the joy of being able to have water, for what ever use.
We have a lot of water here at the moment, and high winds too. I’ll have a thought for those in the air and on the sea tonight.