Wandering Through The Land Of Nod.

A story of a primary school assembly and St Martin for Remembrance Day.

We carried the cold with us into the school hall that foggy November day.  The damp clung to our woolly cardigans and jumpers after the short walk across the grey yard and our bare knees shivered when we sat on the floor with crossed legs ready for assembly to begin.

Miss White struck up the piano and we began to sing:

When a knight won his spurs, in the stories of old,

He was gentle and brave, he was gallant and bold;

With a shield on his arm and a lance in his hand

For God and for valour he rode through the land.

Instantly, I was transported to a bright and sunny land, with a narrowing road winding its way across green hills, with a gentle and brave knight looking out for people to help and rescue.

No charger have I, and no sword by my side,

Yet still to adventure and battle I ride,

Though back into storyland giants have fled,

And the knights are no more and the dragons are dead.

Excitement ran through my body.  I knew there was a big world beyond that cramped school hall.  What adventures would I go on?  Who would I rescue?  At home, my dolls and teddy bear were constantly getting into trouble, and I worked hard to look after them, save them from danger and bandage their wounds.  While I was away from them at school, assembly was a good time for the sustaining stories which would see me through the day, to drop into my mind.

Let faith be my shield and let joy be my steed

‘gainst the dragons of anger, the ogres of greed;

And let me set free with the sword of my youth,

From the castle of darkness, the power of truth.

The hero inside this quiet girl rose up while I sang and I felt there was nothing I couldn’t do. 

When Miss White plonked out the last resounding note, our headmaster stood up and walked to the front.  Joy of joys, he had his red book with the ribbon marker.

I sat enthralled when, as if by magic, he opened the book at exactly the right page.

He read us a story about a Roman soldier, who was named after the Roman god of war.  Martin was born in about 397 CE.  As a soldier, he spent most of his wages providing food and clothing for poor people and one day during a harsh winter in France, he met a man who was hungry and cold.  Martin had nothing left to give apart from his cloak.  He used his sword to slice his cloak in two and gave half to the destitute man.

Later on, Martin fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of Jesus wearing the half cloak which he’d given away.  In the dream, Jesus said “Inasmuch as you have done this to my brother, you have done it to me.”

That story settled into my young heart and mind.  Years later, I would search through the Bible to find Martin, but of course his story isn’t there.  He lived long after the Bible was completed.  Two churches dedicated to St Martin became very important to me.

Martin is the patron saint of soldiers, and he’s remembered on November 11^th, which we know as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day, so Martin is often forgotten.

I am thankful for my teachers who sparked my imagination with songs and stories and I’m thankful that they told me the story of Martin.

If you wear a poppy or keep silence in memory of those who’ve died in war, spare a thought for Martin and whisper a prayer that like him, people with wealth, power and privilege will notice those in need and help them.   

Did you know that it’s because of St Martin that we have the word tourists? Martin became bishop of Tours in France and so many pilgrims travelled there, they became known as tourists!

If you want to read something about what Jesus said about giving food and clothing to the needy, look at Matthew’s Gospel chapter 25.

Wander well, Mandy.

Things I love:

• The story of St Martin.
• Singing hymns.
• Misty November days.