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The Outsider

I have a strong sense of being an outsider, even though we live in a holy place, a place of ancient pilgrimage, even though there is a church opposite, even though we are surrounded by religious communities, these are all completely inaccessible to my wife.
I rarely go to church.
As a consequence, we, who have lived here many years, are not known. I sat in the car, last evening, across the street, seeing how the neighbours genuinely care for each other, little acts of kindness.
We are not ignored, rather life goes on around us, without us. I can’t remember the last time anyone enquired about my wife, so desperately, screamingly ill, so acutely, politically, medically, socially oppressed.
How strange the pretence that a suffering woman in their midst does not exist, here in this staunchly church going, Christian community. There is just a feeling , I experience of being judged, somehow.
The  Epiphany is all about the outsider, who dares to follow a star. Those who knew the truth, were not part of the religious establishment.
Our isolation here, in this holy place, raises questions , in my mind, about what it means to be a Christian. All I know is that just the other night I opened the back door and gasped in wonder at the moon and Venus, shining just above our cottage in extraordinary unity.
How wonderful !
My wife has taught me a great deal about God, who is so deeply present with Linda, that my life cannot help but be suffused with awe and wonder, for which I could cry, I am so grateful.
What treasures our local church is missing out on.


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