Ready, Steady ... !

Lenten Observance

I'm not very good at the formalities of religion. If something doesn't draw me closer to God, or remind me of my need to love my neighbour, I tend to lose interest and wander off. Nevertheless, doing something for Lent has always been part of my discipleship.

 

Giving up chocolate or alcohol, both of which I'm not particularly addicted to, and wouldn't particularly mourn the loss off, never worked, because immediately on making the resolution to abstain, I become obsessed with eating chocolate and drinking alcohol. That ancient serpent, having landed on a great ploy around Day 9, and having no reason to change tack, hisses, "Did God say... ?" and within days, I'm toast.

 

I once declared to anyone willing to listen, "This year, I'm giving up being unkind to people!" This was a conversation stopper for sure. People who are familiar only with my angelic public persona, would gasp in amazement, and fall over themselves to say that they didn't believe that anyone as radiant as I am, could ever be unkind! Very flattering, Just follow me on Twitter, would be my reply these days. @meffrancis if you're interested.

 

To be fair to myself, I wasn't expecting too many instances of unkindness to deal with, but what a revelation! Choking back a sarcastic comeback, holding fire on the irritable retort, and repressing the urge to roll my eyes happened far my often that I anticipated. I ended Lent that year with a humbling uptick in self-awareness.

 

Finally, I gave up giving up stuff for Lent, and this works a treat. That would be the same year that my Resolution was to never have a never self-defeating and totally pointless Resolution. The only one I've ever kept beyond January 8th.

 

I've started Taking Things Up for Lent instead. A daily conscious prayer routine, weekly Catechesis, and Priority Number One: eliminating waste.

 

I recommend eliminating waste as a spiritual practice for several reasons. Firstly, it induces a warm-glow of virtue, secondly, it enables a ceaseless examination of conscience, and thirdly, it saves you money. Win-win-win.

 

Every light gets turned off. Radiators in unused rooms are switched to 'frost' my 1970's "Left Over For Tomorrow" cook book has been dusted off ... Everything I do has come under scrutiny, and this, I think, is pretty much what Lent is about.

 

 

 

 

 

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A Very Funny Thing Happened ...

Hello! I'm back ...

You may have noticed, "Posted With Blogsy" at the end of my posts, and this is because I use this amazing app to write my blogs. It is totally compatible with my iPad (Paddy) which I find Blogger isn't, or anyway, not so much. This is sounding like an advertisement, isn't it? It's not, because more than a year ago the developers of Blogsy stopped updating it, and it is no longer available.

This was not so terrible. OK, I couldn't do the things I never did, like add video clips, but I could do THIS, until this creaky old iPad upped and died.

I first noticed, last December, it wasn't powering up properly, and that the on/off button wasn't offing. Within days, it stopped recharging, and I knew the game was up. I bought it secondhand, and it had served a respectable term so, after trying for a couple of days to just make sure Paddy was dead, I laid her to one side and got on with my life. Sadly, without blogging: having lost the means to do so quickly and conveniently, and having much else to do, I went quiet.

Two days ago, I decided that a respectable mourning period had passed, and the time had come to lay Paddy to rest at the great recycling centre in the city. Having a bit of a joke with my husband Ray. I said, " I believe in miracles. Before I chuck it, I'll pray over it!"

It's true, I do, believe in miracles, but to be honest, I let the Lord off the hook on this one, because I was just having a laugh. I even told Him so and asked for his indulgence.

I promise you, I hadn't given up on Paddy without a fight. I had changed recharging cables, I'd left her charging for twenty-four hours. Not a spark, not a flash, not even the faintest glimmer of an apple.

So after a throw-away ask of the Almighty, I plugged this iPad in, and let it be. Some hours later, I flipped open the case, and to my utter astonishment ... Here we are.

Of course there are all kinds of explanations, but the one I prefer is this : the Lord of All has a great sense of humour, and always has the last laugh.

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The Chimney-Sweep And The Pig

As part of my New Year Makeover, I'm going to devote more time to one of my passions: story-telling. 

So there! It's out, and I have  done something about it!  I've enrolled in a course: "Storytelling For Social Change."  It's available from the University of Michigan, for free, on the EdX platform. 

Storytelling For Social Change

"I Daniel Blake' a BAFTA-winning film about the use of  'social murder'  * as state policy, aired on the BBC last night, so this course couldn't be more timely.  This amazing exemplar of it's genre has been dismissed as, "A work of fiction by a socialist director .. " by every right-wing politician with a Twitter account. Laughable. As if they'd never wept through,"Schindler's List"! 

Here's my first, 'Assignment' "To tell a story from your own experience in 250 words or less ..." 

The Tale of The Chimney-Sweep And The Pig

My Dad was a Special Constable. (Community Police Volunteer) This is way back in the 1960's and I am ten. Even the regular policemen ride bicycles to patrol the estate where I lived, it was THAT long ago.

This particular Saturday, my dad was called to Farmer Peacey's pig sty. One of his pigs was missing. It was not going to be too difficult to apprehend the villain, because he'd left his spectacle case behind - I imagine it had dropped out of the thief's pocket in the tussle with the pig. 

So Dad and Fred walk up to the Green's house -the one on the corner of Beacon Road.

Yards away, you can hear that pig squeal, and it was, by all accounts leading the Greens a merry dance.

Fred knocks on the door. Something of a hush falls on the place. Fred knocks again. 

Slowly the door opens and a small frightened face peers, wide-eyed, through the smallest gap. 

"You'd better  let us in, Betty." My dad says, not unkindly. 

Betty nods, and opens the door to reveal a scene of the utmost carnage. Mr Green was a competent chimney sweep, but a pig-sticker, he was not. The drab hallway was festooned with high arcs of rapidly drying blood. As was a flustered Mr Green.

Dad holds out the glasses case, and hands it over. 

"Lionel," he says, "That'd better be the remains of a pig lying on your kitchen table, or you're in real trouble ... " 

There will be more. I'll keep you posted. 

*

Austerity is, 'social murder'