A Past Life

Hello all. I hope you are all well. I don't really have anything interesting to tell you this week. I've had a bit of a quiet week really. I've been on antibiotics all week. Nothing to worry about - an issue in the ladyparts area WHICH MADE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS GOING TO DIE. Nothing dramatic there because - as you know, I don't have an overly dramatic bone in my body. Feeling much better now - thanks for asking but I am very fed up with drinking buckets of water every day                          

Also, I had my hair

cut. As usual, this was traumatic. I cannot for the life of me understand how anyone can enjoy having their hair cut. It has dental visit levels of trauma for me. That horrible mirror. Who would ever voluntarily sit in front of a mirror for an hour? Ugh. Also, I am blessed with a hairdresser who is lovely and a really good cutter and doesn't listen to a word I say. I mean, in what universe is this fringe below my eyebrows? Only another four weeks before it has grown enough for me to leave the house.

I'm writing this, having just got back from the Sunday evening meeting yes - the evening meeting. I'm not usually up for the evening meeting, I'll be honest. In the olden days, when I was young, my attendance on a Sunday night would usually prompt an elderly man in the congregation to quip "Hello, can we expect the fire to fall this evening then?" Hilarious. 

We braved the evening air because a very nice lady, who was kind to us when we first joined the church, was retiring from her church administration role. Based on personal experience, I believe that administration is the most difficult job in the church - much more difficult than being say the Archbishop of Canterbury where many people feel they have to be nice to you. So we wanted to show support and all that - not that she needed our support. So, we showed up - gave her a cheery wave - refused cake - mainly because we had chocolate fudge cake at home - and skipped off into the night. 

I'm not sure I'll be troubling the evening meeting on a regular basis partly because I have been allergic to going twice a day on Sundays since I was no longer contractually obliged to do so. Also, I am the child of a father who, when he first became a Christian, made it his business to be in church whenever the doors were open. This included not being home in their small cold flat when my Mum first brought their new baby (me) home from the hospital as he was at a church meeting. This resulted in wiser people in the church taking him to one side and telling him to sort his life out (in a Godly way obviously). He was mentored by an older man - known to all as Uncle Harold - in the church who was a committed Christian with a borderline unhealthy obsession with boxing. (Not actually doing the boxing you understand - he was about 5' tall and a bit on the portly side). Uncle Harold was famous for hosting a prayer meeting in his house which unfortunately landed on the same evening as a big boxing match. After beginning the meeting, it was obvious that Uncle Harold didn't really have his mind on the serious matter of the prayer meeting. How do I know this? I know because 5 minutes after the match began, Uncle Harold called a halt to the meeting and switched on the TV, explaining to the  attendees "The Lord understands." I expect he did. My father's family though were grateful for people willing to take him to one side and say "Steady H. Look after the family you have been given. Don't be weird." 

There's a verse in Isaiah which says 

Ponder the rock from which you were cut,
    the quarry from which you were dug.

I am, for good or bad, partly a product of my past. For me, this was small gospel halls (like the one above although not in 1924), youth groups with the best friends in the world, Sunday School Walks Days and being taught that grace and mercy were not optional choices as a lifestyle. Obviously, not all my formative experiences were helpful - my parents had lots of issues - mainly with each other - and I am a product of those as well. You probably have lots of things that helped to make you in your past as well. I am a firm believer that life has to be lived though and we have to make an effort to be the person that we want to be. There are limits. Despite my best efforts, I do not seem to be able to turn myself into Emma Stone. (Probably, my unwillingness to re-create the graphic onscreen sex isn't helping) but I am in the privileged position of being able to be grateful for a lot of my background - not perfect but a lot of good there. And it makes me thankful.