Thank-you for your hospital

What if emotional wounds became physical injuries?

Thus ran the plot of a story that a friend of mine wanted to write. I’m still eagerly waiting for him to get the pen out, but I often ponder this in the meantime. Would I have an arm missing, and an infected sore on my cheek? Would I change the way I acted towards my friends or colleagues if I could see instantly what they were really dealing with? Would it move the targets of my envy?

I often feel guilty about being one of the world’s wealthiest (I am – and probably you are as well – in the top 5%), especially when our churches are increasingly focussed on poverty. But – poverty isn’t just about money. It’s about our spiritual state, too. And London is one of the most difficult places to have struggles of the heart. It’s hard to make friends here. And once you’ve made friends, it’s even harder to sustain those friendships.

Lately, I’ve seen how Matryoshka Haus is making a big difference when it comes to the poor – not those living on the breadline, but those of us (I’m willing to admit it – are you?) who are living on the lonely-line. Last night I sat around a table with nine others and enjoyed one of the tastiest meals I’ve had for months. The ten of us chatted incessantly, laughed, dined and drank. We were unafraid to show each other those valuable glimpses of our inner selves. We carried on healing each other, together.

I often joke when leaving dinner parties: “Thank you for your hospital”.
I think my dear friends at Matryoshka Haus prove this to be more true every day.

– Rachel N

Healing happens much more easily when it involves awesome yorkshire puddings…