We have a writers' group at Linden and we met last night with some thoughts on the subject of hope.
Gary, one of our participants, wrote about the real hope that we have in Christ.
Linden runs the youth/community cafe and does a lot of other work with young people in the area and we're always looking for funding. A year or so ago the leaders consulted the church about whether or not we should apply for Lottery funding. The church was fairly divided and, in the end, the leaders decided not to go that route - at the moment anyway - as some people had serious concerns. I was one of those who objected.
My objection was based on hope and its different meanings.
The Lottery sells hope. A maybe, if you're very lucky, hope, you may win enough money to change your life; God offers a hope that doesn't depend on luck or maybe or your numbers coming up. I don't see how we can take money from an organisation that sells a wishful hope when we know some ting different.
But that wasn't what I was going to write ...
Barbara read a few sentences that had inspired her writing-wise. She encouraged us to hold onto words or sentences that grab us and that, maybe, later we cab do something with. I recalled when I went to the theatre and saw Sir John Mortimer, creator of Rumpole. He was accompanied on stage by two actresses who read his favourite poems and prose, and a lady at a grand piano. As I listened to the music I began imagining what it would be like to be rich enough to keep a pianist in the corner of the lounge to play music for you as and when you wanted it! I think a sentence came into my head while I was still in the theatre. I took it home and wrote a story that was later published in the late and sadly-lamented, Cambrensis, Welsh short story magazine. It remains one of my favourite own stories.
The first line goes like this:
Aunt Maude kept a pianist in the conservatory.
To read the rest of the story you'll need to go to Liz's long bits!