Lost

 

I have a well-worn blue knit M&S hat. Not, I hasten to add, as well-worn as Don’s green knit hat, which he’s had since before we were married nearly 47 years ago…

It’s the only cosy chapeau I have. I wore it on my Friday walk with Mary, but later in the morning, I realised I couldn’t find it. I searched in all the possible places. The sleeve of my coat, the car boot, the floor, shopping bags, the shelf where it should have been. Nada.

I went off to walk with Mary this morning, bare-headed in the cold. On our way back up the road, retracing our steps, I glanced down at the verge and lo and behold, there rested my well-loved hat, a little grassy but none the worse for its adventure.

Clothes discarded by the side of the road. Refugees running from violent attack, losing possessions as they go, unable to retrace steps to find them. Like everyone else, I can hardly take in the tragedy of Ukraine, the senseless trauma and destruction and death because of the hubris of one man.

I heard of a video of Ukrainians sheltering in an underground station, praying Psalm 31 together. Don and I prayed it together this morning, in tears: In you, O Lord, I have taken refuge … Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.

What is a lost hat next to all the lost lives? Deliver this land, Lord; come quickly to their rescue. Be their rock and refuge, a strong fortress to save. Almighty, powerful God of Love: rescue this nation.