THE SMIDGEN OF DOUBT

I like odd words. Smidgen's a favourite. Online etymology says it comes from Scottish dialect, which is no surprise as it's most commonly used to measure out a quantity of drink which is just enough to be considered both frugal and yet socially acceptable.

That's a compliment, Scottish friends, a compliment. I think you're a great, noble nation of warriors and poets and that we need you in this United Kingdom of ours, without a smidgen of doubt.

See what I did there?

I've been fascinated for a long time about the difference between 'not-knowing' something and knowing it 'for sure'. It's remarkable to me that the tiniest margin between those two things can have such an impact.

For example, I found out something today which greatly affects me. I was aware of it being a possibility, but something inside of me had kept alive the tiniest thought that it might not be so. It was the Smidgen of Doubt.

I reckon the cliche unit of the Smidgen of Doubt is exactly 0.01%. That's what people say, isn't it: "Oh, I'm 99.9% certain..." which is another way of saying that they're totally sure... but somehow, not totally sure. We English love this little paradox like a wendy-house of safety. The Smidgen of Doubt gives us the ability to cover our embarrassment if it should turn out that we were (heaven forbid) wrong, and it will happily evaporate with a squeaky pop if it turns out we weren't.*

On the flip-side then (and unfortunately for me today) the Smidgen of Doubt can also be 0.01% improbable hope, twinkling bravely against the 99.9% of certainly impending darkness. The difference is where that hope comes from.

I thought about that as Spain faced injury time against Chile, 2-0 down and heading out of the World Cup. I wondered whether Cesc Fabregas, looking gloomily on from the touch-line still considered it a 'matter of life and death', whether the overwhelming unlikelihood, the smidgen of hope that they would score twice in six minutes was all that was keeping his heart beating.

They didn't of course, and I guess he's still breathing, old Cesc. At least until his next visit to the Emirates.**

The difference, I suddenly notice I wrote a few moments ago, is where your hope comes from. It clicks for me - the Smidgen of Doubt is a bit of an illusion if your hope is in the wrong place, if you're looking at the whole scenario from the narrowest of perspectives. Or, as Psalm 121:1-2 puts it:

"I lift my eyes up to the mountains -
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth."

You might not believe that there is a 'maker of heaven and earth' but you've got to agree that it's sensible to get the biggest picture of what's going on. In that respect, the Bible has just beaten me (unsurprisingly) at top-trumps with wisdom. I love it when I spend ages thinking about something that's so neatly explained in such ancient words.

All this is a rather long-winded way of saying that it's just not over until it's over, till the plumpest of sopranos bursts into song and the final whistle echoes around the stadium. Nothing at all is certain until it is final and a door that's ajar is still, technically, open. Embrace the Smidgen of Doubt, let hope break out like a tiny spark in a sun-scorched forest.

And get out of the wendy-house.


* Curiously, if we were right after all, it means that we were wrong about being 99.9% right. Somehow though, that doesn't seem to matter.

** If you know why, you're probably not a Zapper.