Life is like…
Right then. Welcome one welcome all. This is the one you have been waiting for. It’s the obligatory “I’m Nearly 60 and this is what I have learned.” Blog. Except it isn’t. Because, if the passing of many, many years has taught me anything, it’s that I seem to refuse to be taught anything. Well anything that will make my life easier.
So, accompanied by a rare as hen’s teeth photo of me (I’m leaning to the side because I had just noticed that it looked like one of the plants was growing out of my head) here is a not at all exhaustive list of things that are quite obviously true but I seem to struggle to catch hold of. Some of these things may seem trivial to you. In fact, the vast majority may seem so but if you want profound, I would think that, if you have been here for any prolonged period of time, you would know that this is probably not the place to find it.
Anyway, without further ado
MY LIST OF TRUTHS I FIND IMPOSSIBLE TO GRASP (not an exhaustive list)
The Dentist is not my mortal enemy. I know, in my heart of hearts that it very rarely hurts and I need to suppress the urge to punch her in the throat when, without asking permission, she feels my neck for lumps during a check-up.
People are not looking at me because my hair looks funny. In fact, people are generally not looking at me at all.
Spiders do not have a personal vendetta against me despite a bucketload of evidence to the contrary – such as finding one the size of Africa sat on the back of my hand or discovering one ON MY FACE in the middle of the night.
At least 98% of the things I insist on worrying about are never, ever going to happen.
In the end, Manchester United will always let you down.
I am not the worst Mum in the world. Neither of the children appear to be serial killers (although I am aware that sometimes these things take years to be discovered). I will never make their clothes from curtains, I have not given them the skills to survive on the Isle of Wight after a nuclear attack and I don’t think either of them will play football for England. However, both are kind, courteous, and as happy as anyone can be expected to be under the current circumstances.
That last glass of wine is always, ALWAYS a bad idea unless I want to wake up convinced that I have a brain tumour.
Photographs that are on the wall are not watching me when I am alone in the apartment and fancy a little dance. They are also not transmitting films of me dancing to aliens in outer space. I was told this as a little girl by a boy next door and have never been completely able to shake it off. He also told me that when you do a trump, people can tell because your skirt lifts. He was not a nice boy.
I can download all the exercise apps I want, buy all the magazines with all the exercise plans, and count all the steps in the world but my stomach is never going to look like this again. Especially with my penchant for prawn sandwiches with a bag of crisps.
It is unlikely that Aged Parent means anything by it when she says “What a lovely bride. What happened?” Please note that I haven’t said she doesn’t mean it. She does mean it. She just doesn’t mean anything by it.
The fact that the handsome and generally top chap in this photo is still here, despite – well, living with me for thirty years – may well mean that he intends to stay. Unless Nicola Walker puts in a bid and then I might be in trouble. And fair enough to be honest.
If I wanted anything on my gravestone it would be a quote by William R Newell. Unless I was killed by a spider bite – in which case, please see quote above and put “I TOLD you so”. By the way, as far as I know, am not making any plans to need a gravestone any time soon. This is a ham-fisted attempt at profundity. Actually, it would be any of about thirty quotes by Newell from his “A Few Quotes About Grace” essay. Christians say a lot that they are saved by Grace without stopping to think exactly what that means and how fantastic that is. Like all the points above, I struggle to accept it sometimes. That doesn’t make it any less true or lovely. When I get hold of it – even sometimes if it is for a fleeting few seconds – it changes everything. Not least my levels of gratitude and security. Have a good week.
To believe, and to consent to be loved while unworthy, is the great secret.
To refuse to make “resolutions” and “vows;” for that is to trust in the flesh.
To expect to be blessed, though realizing more and more lack of worth.
To testify of God’s goodness at all times.
To be certain of God’s future favour; yet to be ever more tender in conscience toward Him.
William R Newell 1868-1956