Uncertainty is the abandoned child in the desert.
She’s put there by people at the end of their tether, at the end of their terror, who just can’t cope anymore and can’t bear to see her or hear her.
‘Just shut up, will you?!’
She hears that a lot.
‘So do my plans mean nothing?’
She hears that as well.
‘Of course the kid has needs – but we all have needs and I don’t need her right now!’
So folk avert their eyes and hurry on, hurry away. They can’t bear to look at her or listen as she cries her inconvenient truth in the wilderness.
Though some stay, they dare to sit with Uncertainty and not walk away.
Instead they listen to the infant mouthing her words, mad, awkward and frightening, though some say they heal.
And what did the child say out there in the desert? Some heard this:
‘I am not in control and that’s OK. I am not in control and that’s OK.’
That’s what they heard. Though what they were to do with it, no one was sure.
