Mad Cow Disease

So it hasn't been the best week. In fact, we're kind of hoping not to have another week like this for a long time. Mark has been in bed sick all week, experiencing a level of pain that has been fairly extreme in its intensity and duration and I've been looking after him and Jonathan. To make matters worse, Jonathan has been particularly unsettled this week, some days requiring some kind of human company for the full 24 hours for him to settle. And so, we've been in survival mode again; it's been a hard week for both of us, and we've greatly appreciated home cooked meals and other practical help from those at church and Wycliffe College.

Jonathan has weathered it all very well though and has gone through something of a growth spurt. I think he'll have outgrown his newborn jumpsuits soon.

As with all times of crisis and distress, it is useful to reflect on the miseries others face which are far worse than your own. In the spirit of this, I offer some reflections on this:



Consider, gentle reader, the poor benighted creature who woke up one morning and thought to himself, "I think I will make a ceramic cow covered in cups and saucers, plates and teapots with paint tubes for its udder". And this thought doesn't go away after a decent cup of coffee and the harsh light of day. Instead, this person sits down and makes just such a cow.

Consider also that once made, this person takes the cow to a shop and the shopkeeper thinks to herself, "Ah! A ceramic cow covered in cups and saucers, plates and teapots! Just the thing. I want to sell this in my shop."

And this shopkeeper does not keep the cow hidden behind the counter for when an apologetic looking customer walks in and stammers, "Um, I heard that you, um, sell ceramic cows covered in cups and saucers, plates and teapots. Is that true? It's not for me, you understand, but for a friend. He has a whole collection of ceramic domesticated animals wearing kitchen utensils, but I, I mean he, doesn't have a cow. It would go so well with my, I mean his, donkey covered in toasters and his pig entirely covered in knives and forks."
Whereupon the shopkeeper would pull out said cow, sell it to this customer for his friend, who would depart the store, carrying a brown paper bag with a slightly guilty but triumphant look on his face.

No, my friend, that is not how this shopkeeper approached the sale of the cow. It is in the window of the shop for all to see, and in my case, photograph, because I have never seen anything quite like this. And because once I'd seen it I had to go back and have another look.



We don't know for sure whether there was a customer for this creation, but if we assume there was, then this too is worth our pity. Someone, somewhere could well have this cow on their mantelpiece. Not being involved in this cycle of insanity which involved the making, selling and purchasing of this cow makes one realise how fortunate one is.

And hopefully next week will be better. JMB