蜜芽传媒

I read an article the other day about a man in Surrey who had sneezed with the result that a small rubber sucker, which had been inside him for forty four years, became dislodged and appeared before his eyes.

It's amazing what sticks inside us from childhood and reappears later...not just things we have swallowed or stuck up our nose, but the things which we have heard or learned which have become embedded.

When I'm having a sleepless night, I sometimes dredge out of my memory words implanted long ago. It might be a song we sang in Primary 2

A fairy sat deep in the heart of a rose
and a tear trickled over the tip of her nose.

It might be verses of scripture which we were compelled to remember in Primary 7 under threat of coporal punishment
Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth
while the evil days come not,
nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt say,
'I have no pleasure in them'

It might be a parent's comment . When I had been less than gracious in receiving the last thing I wanted as a birthday present from some distant relative, my mother took me aside and said,

Never look a gift horse in the mouth.

That puzzled me, because that particular relative often looked slightly equine to me.

There is always gold among the dust of memory: a line of a poem or a hymn which still carries
deep conviction next to Pythagoras' theorem; or a word of approval or affection alongside the lyrics of a rather risque rugby song.

We live in an era which has more trust in electronic devices that in the memory. The primary things we try to remember are pass words, one to access our email, another to get into our savings account and another to book online. This is the world in which children are being reared, where being able to access information is more important than registering deep inside the things that might shape us.

But if, in caring for the young, we are ever lured into thinking that the words worth remembering are not worth saying, moment of reflection might convince us how determinative in our lives have been the nuggets of wisdom innocently embedded by others.

When I was three, my mother used to listen to me saying my prayers. I can remember, as if it were last night, the evening when I decided to improvise and asked God to bless all the good boys and girls but not the bad boys and girls. My mother interrupted , 'John, if you are going to pray like that I am going to leave your room. God is not like that. He loves everybody the same, even the bad boys and girls.'

These words have shaped my life. What words have shaped yours?

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