And another thing……..

Sometimes you read a chapter of the Gospels, something you’ve known for ever, something that’s so familiar it’s slipped into secular-speak, become a universal metaphor, but WHAM! suddenly, wonderfully, it hits you, up close and personal. Because this is a typical Luce rant:

OK, listen up, right up, I’m not moaning BUT… when did it become OK for adult people to take a bottle of water everywhere they go, like some talisman? And why is it essential for them to take a swig of that water every ten minutes even in church? Have they just arrived after a three week trek across the Sahara so that they must rehydrate gradually but steadily? Why are so many people unable to sit through a 30 minute talk without rooting around  for the bottle, clicking/unscrewing it open, and then chucking their stupid heads back to pour the damn stuff down their already pink and nicely hydrated necks? Why? It’s just bloody rude.

Am I getting old and grouchy?

And listen, here’s another thing, why is it necessary for shoppers to phone home to check that they have the right marmalade/baked beans/biscuits, or the required number of bananas? I ask because a man in Tescos said into his phone ‘Shall I get the large one or the smaller one?” and he was looking at – listen to this – he was looking at loose bread rolls. He then put the larger of the options in a bag (just one roll) and went on his way. There must have been all of half an ounce difference. He couldn’t make that decision on his own? It necessitated a phone call?

Am I getting old and grouchy?

And why is it often cheaper to buy two small packs of something rather than one large, nearly doubling the packaging? Yes, washing tabs, I’m talking about you. You eedjits.

While we’re on the subject of shopping – how come the Americans use paper grocery bags but the whole idea is a bit of a shocker to us? And why are bananas delivered loose to Tesco and then put into plastic bags? And do we really need to buy a pack of four potatoes on a black plastic tray with a see through cover? Can’t we just pick them up and put them in the trolley? Or a paper bag? And why is my fridge door full of plastic bottles of milk? Am I completely STUPID?

Or am I just old and grouchy?

And why, when I’m a pedestrian, are all the drivers hooligans and speed freaks, and why when I’m driving are all the pedestrians halfwits and sluggards?

Eh?

And don’t ‘serious’ walkers get on your goat? They get on mine. Big time. I live next to a b&b on the beautiful coast of Wales, and they set out in all their wet weather gear regardless of what the sky is doing, after their full Welsh breakfasts, and they go to their cars and get out  their walking sticks, and they put on dirty great hiking boots, and then they  check their stupid maps, and off they go. On foot. They leave the car there, on the High Street, while they slog along the Coastal Path for three, four, five days, ensuring that people with babies or old people, or those with bad backs or loads of shopping, can’t park outside their own homes, for all that time.  One day I will charge out of my front door, grab a scrawny walker’s neck and snarl in his face “There is a car park 200 yards away, you self-satisfied selfish fitness freak.”

Yes, ok, ‘old and grouchy’ applies.

Oh! Hang on – I nearly forgot holiday makers who can’t cope with our narrow lanes, who don’t know how big their cars are, can’t reverse and think that somehow if they sit in the middle of the road, everyone else will magically be able to squeeze past.  News for you, townies – applying your brakes doesn’t shrink the car.

And….. Oh, never mind.

This is the Bible passage I was reading when the meaning socked me in the solar plexus:

Matthew 7:3-5, the words of Jesus Christ :

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me remove that splinter from your eye,’ while the wooden beam is in your eye?  You hypocrite, remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from your brother’s eye.

I know a woman whose talk is full of defiance and simmering rage. She often prefaces some protest or complaint with “You know what? I’m sorry but….” and we all know that she isn’t one bit sorry. She’s angry and resentful and unhappy. But this is the wooden beam in her eye – she can see only what’s wrong with the situation and the people around her, she can’t see what’s wrong with herself.
I’m like that too. Oh, yes.
My blog-rant may be tongue-in-cheek, but there’s truth in there, big-time. I do feel real annoyance,  I do sigh, I am exasperated, impatient, cross, judgmental, self-righteous, condescending.
But I have absolutely no right to be. Sometimes I  drive inconsiderately, and I’m a bit absent minded when I’m walking through town, and some days  I’m fantastic at parking but some days  I can’t park for toffee, and if I did a bit of coastal walking I’d be a damn sight fitter than I am, and probably wouldn’t cost the NHS as much as I’m probably going to cost them in my later years, and … fill in the dots. Pick a human failing and apply it to me.
How dare I sigh and grumble at anyone else?
But that’s what we do, isn’t it? Because we’re fatally flawed and amazingly lovely. Awkward and heart-warming. Simply complicated. Infuriatingly loveable. Perfectly imperfect. There are days when I’m amazed that God loves me, but when I think of all my faults and weaknesses and pig-headedness, I have to smile. It makes me think of the first series of Fargo, that clever and subversive series, pin-pointing the idiocy and self importance of feeble humans, revealing our insignificance in a huge and inhospitable landscape, honing in on our self-deluded hubris and ambition, painstakingly showing us the lies that choke us. Man, I love that series! I described it as ‘funny’ and a friend with a more accurate grasp of the English language gently corrected me “No, it’s not funny, it’s absurd.” He’s right, Fargo reveals the human condition to be absurd, absurd enough to be funny. We’re delightful. We’re ridiculous. We are sturdy, defiant, stubborn, wayward toddlers. Of course God loves us – who wouldn’t?
I went to a neighbour’s house for coffee today (he makes the best coffee I have ever had) and as I waited for it impatiently he told me I was like a naughty child. And I’m nearly bloody 70! Will I ever grow up? Really? Will you? Probably not.
But God loves us anyway.
And He’s changing us. Slowly but surely.  That’s what He does, that’s His work in us. But we shouldn’t let that blind us to the fact that even at the very beginning of our journey, when we are all wrong and all confusion and all doubt, He loves us.
With all our faults we are loveable. And loved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “And another thing……..

  1. 😂😂😂at the bread roll 😂😂😂

    Interested in this coffee… Because I make the best coffee I have ever known. 👀🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

    Like

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