Category Archives: The parable of…

Everyday parables.

The parable of…

… the Bluetooth adapter. Which my son spent quite some time looking for this afternoon, disturbing my attempt to complete revising chapter 8 and get to my belated coffee break (I got up late). For behold, the Bluetooth adapter was very small, and in my son’s room there are many things… And lo, he found it, and we both rejoiced, and then I finished editing chapter 8 and took a long coffee break. And then I edited chapter 9, and tomorrow I will edit chapter 10 (or possibly delete it entirely) and write an intro, so that I can send off the book to meet the deadline of Thursday. It’s almost time to say, Rejoice with me!

The parable of the….

…watch that didn’t need fixing. On New Year’s day, sitting idly at my desk, I thought ‘Oh, I must move on the date window on my old fashioned analogue watch with a face and a date window’. So I pulled out the knob and twiddled it (as it were) and then peered at the very tiny window, only to discover with alarm that it now said ‘2’. At which point I realized that in fact the only time I need to advance the date manually is when the previous month has had only 30 (or 28) days in it, and December has 31, so in fact my watch had already, automatically, said ‘1’. Now I had to sit there for hours going through the entire month to get back to 1. And as the watch also has a day and night setting ( a little window where a sun, or alternatively moon, comes up), I had to go through all twelve hours twice for each day. Which took ages.

Memo to self: before fixing, check whether what you want to fix is actually broken. There’s a lesson in this, I’m sure….

Three bags full

This is too good not to blog it! Seen on Freecycle: OFFERED: bag of nappy inserts for real nappies, plus a few bags of p. Honestly, the line ends just there. I really don’t think anyone will want the bags of p.

And another PS to the parable of the wing mirror trim – sadly, I found on going back to the car that the ‘lost and found’ trim has fallen off and is now I know not where. Which kind of debases its spiritual value…

The parable of…

…the wing mirror trim. (Meant to blog this last week but forgot.) And behold, the driver came to her car one day and the nearside wing mirror was rotated by 180 degrees {sorry, can’t find the degrees symbol in keycaps] and the plastic trim that covered the bottom bit* was missing, giving the car an even tattier aspect than usual. Sighing, the driver clicked the mirror back into place and it still worked, though aesthetically less pleasing.

And lo, a couple of days later the driver was walking down her road and on the pavement outside her neighbour’s house was a familiar looking piece of black plastic. And when she picked it up, it had FIAT and a serial number impressed in it. So she took it to her car, fiddled with its little lugs which were a bit bent, and well whaddya know, it fitted perfectly on the bottom bit* of the wing mirror. And all I am prepared to say in explanation is that we all have the Maker’s name impressed on us, and only the Driver can fit us in exactly the right place. Or something like that.

*(technical term)

PS Did you know Jesus came to earth by Mary’s Fiat?

The parable of…

..the alfalfa sprouts. The Grouch remarked in passing the other day that I should be learning faith from the alfalfa sprouts, which I am sprouting in a special jar. Nothing at all happened to the seeds for ages, and then on the third day (yes really) little white shoots (of economic recovery?) began to appear. I am suitably chastised for my lack of faith up to that point.

My having the time and energy necessary to sprout alfalfa, is an indication that things are going well here in Depressionland. Genius Brat has dropped his least favourite GCSE which takes a lot of pressure off at school. I am now wearing my jaw splint (which makes me look like Jaws from the Bond movies) every night, and on a short course of Melatonin, and though I don’t know what the quality of my sleep is, I am definitely finding it easier to get up in the morning.  Also I went to an Indulgence Day at the school last weekend, got manicured, massaged (rather painfully) and bought a pair of earrings identical to a very useful pair of which I had lost one. So there’s another lost and found parable (‘Lost your faith? When did you last use it? Have you tried looking where you first got it?’)

And fired by feeling more well and capable. I have cleared out four kitchen food cupboards and one large cleaning materials cupboard. This is very satisfying. Next stop, four years’ worth of filing!

The parable of..

… the Oyster Card. In case you don’t know, this is the clever little electronic thingy that lets people travel for less on London Transport.

So.. Behold, there was a woman who had an Oyster card. And lo, she had it yesterday and definitely came home on the bus with it. But now, the next day, it was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t in her raincoat pocket. It wasn’t in her jacket pocket. It wasn’t in her handbag, or on the telephone table. It wasn’t on the kitchen shelf with the Tesco vouchers she had taken out of her pocket. It wasn’t in her jeans pocket.

Eventually, being in a hurry, she picked up her husband’s Oyster card and went out with that. On boarding the bus, however, she thought the little plastic card wallet felt suspiciously light, and lo, there was no card in it, for her husband had taken to putting it in his wallet. So she walked home again from the bus stop, and searched yet again around the house, but no, it was not there. So she took the bloody car, fuming about the fact that she would have to find out the Oyster website, and what her card number was, in order to cancel it, and she wouldn’t find that in her emails because she’d just emptied the trash including her last email from Oyster telling her that her card had been automatically topped up. And since she was on auto top up, whoever found or had stolen her card could be merrily travelling all over London and spending her money freely. And of course she would also have to buy a new card, and register it, and put it on auto top up.

However, she went to the relaxation day and did her best to relax, and she went to the counsellor and poured out her troubles, and eventually she went home. And looked in the same places again. And then suddenly, behold it occured to her that she might not have been wearing her jeans the day before, but might have worn her Austrian walking trousers. So she looked in the pocket of the walking trousers and lo! what did she find but her Oyster card. And she rejoiced mightily, and told everyone about it on Facebook and on her blog.

And will not God so rejoice over a single sinner who was lost, and is found?

The parable of..

..the white balloon. As The Writer left King’s Cross station (on her way to yet another appointment) she chanced to turn round and look in the direction of that Victorian masterpiece, the Great Northern Hotel. And what did she spy there, hovering above the hotel’s main tower, but a white balloon. ‘Oh how sad’, she thought at first, ‘some kid’s lost her balloon.’ But then as she looked, she observed that though floating against the summer sky, the balloon didn’t get any higher or further from the tower. And behold, when she went back the next day, to return the equipment she had collected the day before, the balloon was still there. From which she concluded that the balloon must be tethered to the tower by an invisible thread.

And she thought unto herself, is not this somewhat like unto our life in God? We long to soar, to fly, but can only do so safely when tethered by an invisible thread to our creator, who is a strong tower. And moreover, with the Great Northern Hotel a great process of restoration is taking place, unknown to the balloon, which will create a place of many mansions from a dead and empty ruin. And so she smiled, to think that she was only a white balloon, aspiring to the skies, but tethered to her God.

The parable of..

.. the kaleidoscope. And lo verily, the teacher said, our lives are like the pieces in a kaleidoscope. Broken, odd shapes, random colours, and seemingly no hint of a pattern. Yet shake the pieces up, focus the lens, and behold there emerges a beautiful design, symmetrical and perfect. For viewed through the prism which is the Holy Spirit, our lives have order, beauty and purpose. And each new pattern is unique.

And more, said the teacher, while we often view the pieces from the wrong end, and see no harmony, our Father God sees us always through the prism of Jesus’ love, and thus to God we are always full of beauty. But forget not, for the pattern to be visible, the pieces must often be shaken up. Therefore fear not when the foundations of your self are shaken, for God’s purpose is always to create a new picture.

Upon which conclusion, the teacher was silent.

The parable of…

…the washing liquid. The other day I put in my washing to wash overnight on cheaper electricity, set it all correctly on the timer, and set it to ‘Rinse Hold’. First thing I see on coming down in the morning to spin it, was the dosing ball which I had filled the night before, standing on the kitchen work surface. I’d filled it all right, but just missed out the rather vital step of putting it in the machine.

Decided I would have to re-wash the washing, this time with detergent. That meant waiting another hour till I could hang it up, but at least it was on a short wash.

And yea verily, the washing machine is like unto this life, in which we tumble and turn and immerse ourselves in worthy activity, all in an effort to make ourselves pure and holy. But without the cleansing power of the Holy Spirit, which is like unto the detergent, we remain stained and not fit for use. So let us take the dosing ball of faith, into which God may pour the liquid of the Spirit, so that we may be made truly clean, which is not in our own power. Amen.

Erm… I don’t think I’ll be using that in a sermon.

The parable of..

…the squirrel. Behold the squirrel, how he darts about the lawn. In the time of bounty, he finds acorns, hazelnuts, cob nuts, and all the gifts God gives at harvest. Lo, how he collects them, he buries them here and there. So, when the days of hardship come, he will have stores for his nourishment, to plump him up against the cold. But what if he should forget where he has buried them?

And so, perhaps, it is with the Christian. When the blessings are pouring like rays of late summer sun, then she can gather insights, good memories, encouraging words, to store against adversity. But what if, when the dark days come, she forgets where she has buried them? O then she must search, and dig, and rake every inch of the garden, searching for that which can feed her and keep her alive through the callous winter. Pray, then, that you will recall where your treasure is, for the hard times are coming, they are always coming.