A memory on Christmas day

A memory came to my mind this Christmas day. I had not thought about it for some time and I wondered firstly why it had come to mind and secondly whether I should share it on a day when thoughts should be light and happy.

The memory is of a story my mother told me when I was quite young about her mother who was suffering from cancer. She was in the last stages of the disease and virtually bed ridden and racked with pain. She had regular visits from a faith healer and my mother said that my grandmother gained such strengths from these visits that afterwards she would be found sitting at her dressing room table combing her hair. A very ordinary activity that otherwise she would have been unable to accomplish.

My mother told this story with not much embellishment other than what I have related above. I have no idea of what sort of "faith healer" the visitor was. I have no idea whether my grandmother was particularly religious or not. This story has resonated with me all my life. The image of my critically ill grandmother, who died long before I was born, being given strength by a faith healer and rejoicing in that strength to attend to a mundane task has never left me.

I have no idea why this memory should surface today. It came, not with sadness, but with a warmth perhaps to remind me of the power of kind and positive words. I hope you don't mind me sharing it.

'Til next post...