Feel like some good news today?

Zeeb is always up with the latest news and it’s usually bad. It was Zeeb who told me that Gary Coleman had died. She also told me about Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger and it was even Zeeb who was first with the news when Princess Diana had been killed.  When she burst into my room over the weekend asking if I’d heard about our friends I was a little apprehensive. Thankfully her beaming face implied that something amazing had happened. Our friends, who had been childless for so many years, had adopted a 2 week old baby. We were over the moon for them. Even though this little one has Downs Syndrome, to his new mum and dad he’s just perfect. With all that love being poured out on him, this little guy has so much potential. He’s been a much longed for baby and Zeeb and I RAN to the car to get to the shops. We felt like the wise men shopping for baby Jesus.

Do you suppose there was as much excitement in Heaven when I was born? I would guess to the angels I seem disadvantaged: “Oooh, poor wee thing. She has no wings. She’ll never fly!” But I like to think that God took one look at me and declared that I was just what He wanted.

“I’ve been making this kid for 9 months and I planned her long before her parents even thought about being...”frolicsome”.  As I grew up He might even have been thinking, “Gee I love how her hair frizzes at the ends and the way she’s so goofy. I love this kid of mine!”

Actually, I was a sickly youngster and one of the terrible side effects of my health was a bladder with a will of its own. At six years old I was belted by a harridan of a teacher and in front of 20 or so kids, I wet my pants in terror. Any self-confidence I may have been born with was dripping down my leg along with the wee and lying in a puddle at my feet. I wish someone could have told me that day what I now know: I am “fearfully and wonderfully made”.

I believe it’s the same for each of us. It’s Party Central in Heaven whenever someone turns to Jesus because each of us is special.  Some babies aren’t planned. Some babies aren’t perfect in the eyes of others. But I’ll tell you something and you’d better listen up: God loves you just as you are. He loves you if you’re short, tall, ugly, pretty, gay, straight, dishonest, kind, black, white, pink or blue, or even if you’re standing in a puddle with pee running down your leg.  Love is awesome but when I think about it with my human noggin, I don’t always like the people I love. “Like” means that I enjoy them, I want to be around them.

 

So right where you are today, God loves you, He thinks you’re lovely and he LIKES you

Wish for a sure thing

Have you ever wondered what you would wish for if you knew you could choose just one thing? I think about it sometimes and having gotten over the Alladin's Lamp Syndrome, I think I have it figured out.  My biggest wish ever - and I hope this doesn't sound too corny - is to see Jesus smiling at me.  Well, that and a Chicken Costume, but I could only choose one wish for the time being.

I just want to have that special look that says, "Hey Ange, I'm pleased with you. I've always loved you but as well as that, I want you to know that you make me smile because I like you."

Knowing that Jesus loves me is pretty academic. A lot of us are told that from songs we may have heard during childhood. Do you hear strains of "Jesus loves me..." running through your mind? But I think that knowing that He likes me is just that little bit more personal and special. We've all had times when we've been made to feel pretty crappy, especially when we were kids. Whether it was a put down from a teacher or the other kids mocking us. Experiences like that can really knock your confidence and have those doubts sneaking in about whether or not you're really worth anything.  Since God sent Jesus, he must obviously think we're worth a lot more than we give ourselves credit for.  I don't think Jesus would take any of it back.  Even though I'm a dork and I stuff up on a daily basis, he still wants me to hang out with Him.
So I think my wish might just come true because Jesus likes me this I know!

Blood and guts

I’m the squeamish sort. I don’t like blood and gore. I like nice stories about princesses, true love and fluffy kittens. You’d think Bible stories would be safe with all that love and kindness towards our fellow man stuff going on. But there’s one Bible story about a grisly assassination that I can’t resist because it’s so gross. I’m not one to make fun of others’ misfortunes but this story has some great fodder for bullies.

I went to primary school with a boy named Paul who I remember well because he was a lefty. It must have sucked to be Paul. The teacher was constantly walloping his knuckles with the ruler for smudging his work and kids always figured he must have been a bit of a handicap for being different. Not that my handwriting was much better and I also had my knuckles rapped a few times (never my fault! Honest!!). Some teachers were just plain mean back in the day.

 So anyway, Eglon and Ehud...If you haven’t heard of this story you’ve got to check it out in Judges. It’s a crack up. Ehud the hero, was a southpaw.  Some versions of the story say that he was “hindered” in his right hand. Cool! My imagination runs away at this point and conjures up images of Ehud’s withered appendage just dangling off his right shoulder. It makes it a little more dramatic, don’t you think? Mind you, I suspect the hindrance was more to do with what others’ felt about his disparity.

Meanwhile, Israel was being tormented by King Eglon. He was a nasty pasty, which was reason enough to have everyone bawling out for someone valiant enough to rescue them from this guy’s dictatorship. Yeesh, people are such whingers when they’re being browbeaten and demoralized. I’d tell them to harden up but this guy was MEAN! For 18 years they’d had this guy making things very ugly for them. And to make things worse, while the people were struggling to get by, Eggie was gorging himself on anything and everything. I’ll bet he stole candy from babies too. He was a self-satisfying, selfish, morbidly obese hog. Although I’m sure he preferred to call himself “big boned with a thyroid problem”, Eglon was so fat that the world really did revolve around him.

So here’s the scenario: Of all people, God sent Ehud to snuff out the gargantuan elephant. The Israelites probably took one look at Lefty Loosey and thought God was having them on. But I love how God often picks underdogs and people who are a bit different. He can even turn their disadvantages into a good thing. Even nutters like me can be useful to Him sometimes.

Ehud managed to make himself a flash little sword and had the audacity to march right up to the king’s attendants with a message to pass on for the portly monarch. He didn’t even try to sneak in. They would have frisked him down of course (ooer!) but most people reckon that they only searched one side of him and they didn't even wear latex gloves. Imagine if they worked at the airport. We'd get elk horns and all sorts smuggled into the country. He even got himself a private audience with His Obese Majesty in the private throne room. You know...the...ummm...”other” throne room (where private things take place).  It appears Eglon had taken quite a liking to Ehud because he didn’t even flinch when Ehud reached under his robe with his left hand and lean in to pass on a secret message. I don’t know exactly what Eglon was expecting but when Ehud plunged his blade into the king’s belly, he sure did get the point! 

It gets really nasty about here. Ehud’s in Eglon’s “private throne room”, his sword has just gone into his guts...and it just kept on going. I’ll bet it went through his intestines as the fat gulped it in.  Lord knows what Eglon had been eating that day but I can imagine that skewered intestines don't smell too fragrant. I had to change an old lady’s colonoscopy bag once so I know what kind of goop comes out of there. Eeyew, gross! Hopefully Ehud's mum had taught him to always wash his hands after being in the bathroom.

With the carnage complete, Ehud got his ninja-thing on and locked the door before melting away to do battle another day.  Maybe he got out through a window or the sewerage system but I think that however he did it he was very stealth-like and clever.  Meanwhile, Eglon’s servants were thinking things like, “Hmmm...the king’s been in there a long time, hasn’t he?” and “It must have been that vindaloo he ate last night.” Yeesh! Where’d he get those whiz kids from?

I don’t normally make fun of obesity but I can see how Eglon can seem like flesh out of control: self-indulgent and selfish. A bit like me sometimes. Don’t tell the kids, but I have a secret stash of chocolate in my side drawer.  It was supposed to be going to work with me to share for morning tea this morning but...yeah...you know how it goes.  Fortunately I don’t have a “thyroid problem”.

How (not) to hypnotise a chicken

You Tube lied to me. It told me that hypnotising a chicken would be easy and I can personally testify that it is not. I strongly suspect that all chickens used in You Tube demonstrations are already in a pre-hypnotised state.  I thought it might be fun to give it a whirl, especially since one technique was to tuck the chook’s head under its wing and whirl it about three times.  I would imagine that my ability to mesmerize one of my hens might come in very handy some day. Perhaps I could even get it to talk like a human, which would be the poultry equivalent of a human clucking like a chicken.

Step one: Catch the chicken. Hang on, isn’t the whole point of the exercise to put the thing into a trance so that you can do anything with it? Like...oh I don’t know...CATCH it?  I have six hens: Pepsi and Cola are black frizzles with scatty dispositions so I decided to start with a more docile bird. Katherine is stupid enough to squat and freeze if anything threatens to invade her personal space. That’s some defence mechanism you have there Katherine.

“What do you think you’re doing?” My Beloved seemed confused.

“Well, OBVIOUSLY I’m hypnotising a chicken.” I replied “Just think how much easier it would be to clip her wings”

“But you never clip their wings.”

“Yeah, but if I hypnotise them, I could if I wanted to.”

Beloved is used to my ways so he just shrugged and wandered off to prune a plum tree.

It didn’t go well with Katherine. She blustered and flapped and took off. So I tried on one of the Andrews Sisters (three hens that all look the same so they’re all called “Miss Andrews”). She was appalled. This was worse than when I tried to paint her toenails pink (so that I could tell her apart from her sisters).

I’ve decided that my hens must be Christian Chickens who have decided that it’s a better option to “love the Lord your God with all your mind...” than to hand their little brains over to a chicken-brained bird with tin foil in her hair.  I was putting blonde highlights in at the time.

So if it’s possible for a chicken to be a Christian, can a Christian be a chicken?  I would imagine that this would be someone who is reluctant to talk about God or unwilling to do what He asks them to do.  Am I a chicken Christian? I hope not, but I think sometimes we all are.  Some perfectly respectable Biblical heroes had their moments of being yellow-bellied. Jonah went into hiding when he was asked to give Ninevah a stern telling off and our favourite fisherman, Peter, went into complete denial when he was asked if he was one of Jesus’ crew. Co-incidentally that story involves a crowing rooster - I’ll bet that was a Christian chicken that couldn’t be hypnotised either.

If being brave means doing things you’re scared of doing, I think it’s okay to be a chicken Christian. Thankfully, God’s Instruction Book is jam-packed with reasons why we shouldn’t be chicken. I think He gives us this stuff to “egg us on” (sorry about that) because He really does like each one of us:

Fear not, for I am with you


I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me


Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.


The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

And that’s just a few of God’s wonderful promises.

I think I’m okay with being a plucky chicken Christian (get it? “Plucky”? Clever huh?) . That way I know it’s the Lord who works it out through me. Bock...bock...bock...

If I don't know who you are I'll make it up

I don't know what's gotten into my Beloved tonight. He's come over all spontaneous and after dinner, suggested we hop in the car and run away from the kids for an hour (leaving the older one to babysit). This took me by surprise - and I don't like surprises. "Coronation Street" was due to start in a little over an hour and I just didn't know if we could make it back in time. Besides, where was he taking me? He knows I can't go shopping with him. I always end up not talking to him for the rest of the day because I hate the way he lures me into the Building Depot with grand talk of a spa pool before he wanders off on his own, leaving me all confused in the "Unfamiliar Thingameebob" aisle. Thankfully it turned out that tonight he was planning a hot date at Dennys for dessert.
 

This was a nice surprise because I like Dennys, not so much for the food, but for the inhouse entertainment - otherwise known as people-watching. Guaranteed, if I ever see you enjoying a quiet meal at Dennys and I don't recognise who you are, I WILL be watching you and I WILL be fabricating an entirely new far-fetched identity for you. Being the creature of habit that I am, I ordered the banana split without wafers while my Beloved, never conscious of his boyish figure, settled on the hot fudge cake sundae. I didn't share his enthusiasm when he pointed out that he is now old enough to qualify for the Senior Citizens' menu. Instead I began to soak up the atmosphere of individuals making up the vignette of a greater performance that makes the world tick over.

The table behind us consisted of a middle-aged couple and a sulky, teenage girl. Nothing too interesting going on there. I think it was the mum's birthday and they were going to have a nice meal whether they wanted to or not. Across the aisle, things were a little more interesting: a woman in her late fifties with two little girls, possibly twins. Now this could be a juicy story. I decided right away that this impeccably groomed lady was single had enjoyed a successful career beyond her biological clock and the little girls were her mid-life crisis IVF twins. I had that all settled...until her partner joined her (she had no wedding ring). Never mind, my story could still work. Only, one of the girls called him Grandad while the other called her Grandma. Ah well, school holiday grandparents. Next table please.

Looks like we hit pay dirt with this one. There was a bit of an age difference with this couple.  Body language told me that they weren't familiar enough to be married. Obviously an internet-inspired date. He was no looker so let's hope his wallet would be fat enough to accommodate her tastes.  Mind you, she didn't look that shallow and he didn't look all that interested.  Then she started talking. I wasn't close enough to hear what she was saying but her accent gave it all away: Russian Bride! Obviously! Just as I was imagining what was on her profile, my banana split arrived and the look on my Beloved's face told me that I should start paying attention to my own table.

I have no idea who any of those people were and I was probably wrong about the assumptions I'd made about the lot of them. Call it prying if you must, but I prefer to think of myself as "inquisitive" or "interested".  I know I'm just a nobody trying to imagine what's going on in others' existence, but imagine how much more interested our Creator is in what's really going down in our lives. He doesn't just take a guess at it and make things up to fill in the gaps, He truly knows.  He knows all about me, all about you and all about the IVF granny. He knows how we think, when we're going to sit, when we're going to stand, when we need Him. His concern for us is way beyond snooping. He cares about every hair growing out of our heads (or not growing in some cases). The hands that flung stars into space are the same hands that reach out to save me.

And if anyone is watching my Beloved and me at Dennys, I'm hoping they're assuming that we're father and daughter because I'm way too young to order from the Senior Citizens' menu.

Sometimes religion sucks. Jesus doesn't.

I have so many unanswered, burning questions. Here's one: did Adam and Eve have belly buttons? Being created by God out of dust, I'd doubt that Adam would've had an umbilical cord and hence, a tummy button would have been somewhat superfluous. I think it's more possible in Eve's case because she was made with one of Adam's ribs so perhaps there was some kind of connection that might have left a scar but I'm not sure if it would have been on her abs. If she had a button say, on her elbow,  what would it be called? A funny button? And if Eve did have a tummy button, does this mean that she had belly button lint? And speaking of lint, why is it always grey?

I once heard that a church had a division over this thought (the belly buttons, not the lint). I'm not sure if it was really true or just one of those urban legends about what happens when religion goes bad. Apparantly nobody could agree and the church was separated into the innies/outies versus the not-at-all..."ies" and before you know it, a chainsaw was whacked through the middle of the building and half the structure was being trucked up the main road. It all seems a bit silly really but I suppose that's how a lot of religious arguments get started - over something silly.

I think God has given a few clues about what's really important in His Instruction Book. How many times are belly buttons mentioned in the Bible? Actually I don't know but I'm pretty certain there's a heck of a lot more written about His everlasting love for us and how much Jesus wants us to have a relationship with Him. Now that's not silly at all.

Albie and Tablegate

Grossness alert! For the last nine days I've had some ickiness going on near my armpit in the form of an ever-growing abscess which refuses to identify itself. Over the summer I'd became well acquainted with a plague of biblical boils when two of my kids picked up some super bug carried around by one of our fosties. This has not behaved like a boil. It's been big, angry and mysterious. Although my doctor could neither confirm nor deny I've convinced myself that it's a white tail spider bite so that my Beloved might feel guilty for not having the house bug-bombed when I asked him to.

Beloved had the day off work so I thought I might languish about in my dressing gown and moan at opportune moments, such as when I needed a cup of tea. Meanwhile, this...THING under in my arm has developed a personality. I've decided to call it Albie the Abscess because due to its inability to let me know what it's actually thinking, it must be a boy. I also like the alliteration. Albie has been sulking and festering. He's building up under my skin and is making me very uncomfortable. With all that swelling and redness it had become obvious that either Albie had to be detonated or I was going to implode. This ick had to come out. I'll spare you the grisly details but it's adequate to say that work has successfully (and painfully!) begun in extracting the goop which is already giving immense relief.

I like to think that I can rejoice in my suffering due to the perserverence of character that has been developing over the last nine days but I'm more reminded of a slightly embarrassing incident at work last year that is hereafter known as "Tablegate".

It was Fun Day and the school where I work and I was in the mood to have fun. In the staff room there is one table that is a disgrace. The teachers leave it in a mess with dirty coffee cups and living organisms that once started as food scattered across the surface for the cleaners to contend with.  Not cool!  Although it was my idea, I would like to take a moment to point out that I did have an accomplice - who shall remain nameless - for what happened next. The teachers at this table like to sit in the same spot - every day. It seemed funny to turn all the chairs around and...well if it was good enough for Jesus to get cross and biff a few tables across the temple, then surely it was righteous for me to assist my accomplice in tipping up the grotty table.

It looked perfect. Ha! Would those teachers laugh when they saw the little stunt we'd pulled.

NOT!

It was bad timing. Naughty students had broken into some classrooms and stolen expensive stuff which had made the staff antsy - and I was oblivious. Later, I passed through the scene of the crime to enjoy the confused hilarity. Instead I was greeted by angry groundsmen, management, upset teachers...all trying to piece together the evidence from an intolerable break in to the teachers' sanctuary. So I did what any other bold Christian would do. I ran away.

Remember Albie quietly festering in my armpit? My sinful secret was doing just that. I knew it had to be dealt with but I knew it was going to be unpleasant and maybe even a little messy. Long story short: I confessed to the Business Manager. I didn't dob in my accomplice because I needed to take responsibility for my own actions. The boss was unhappy. I had made the cleaner cry when she saw the mess! I was instructed to send an All Staff e-mail explaining to over 170 people exactly what I'd done. With tears streaming down my cheeks I hit the send button and waited for the fall out. I bought people chocolates and gave a "Sorry" card, explaining that my blood group is O Negative and too valuable to be spilled.

The guilt was better out than in.  Responses flooded my e-mail in-box:

I thought it was hillarious!

It's about time somebody did something to spice up our boring lives!!

I don't know you very well but what I know for sure is that it's rare to have people to front up and admit to such a thing. You're very very brave with a big heart.

Next time, leave a sign with smiley faces :-) :-) See how much better things look with a smiley face :-)


We love you Ange


Someone approached me outside the canteen and shook my hand. Yet another person reminded me: "You know you're loved, right?"

So there it is. I squished the ickiness out of my sinful secret. I let it go and, as a bonus, went from Zero to Hero. I guess God really does know what He's talking about when He suggests we confess our sins. There's still a bit of work to do with Albie and the ickiness he's holding onto. He's a bit like me really. I need to keep coming back and allow God to coax all my goop out of me too.

Actually, I think Albie might hold a more pertinent lesson about bitterness but the Tablegate Incident works for me.

Hey Jesus, wanna pie?

I roped my Beloved and a couple of friends into the Kids' Talk at church today. He might have been blindfolded with a squished banana smeared across his face but that was fundamental in drawing out the deep meaning of my spiel about following Jesus, who always sets us a good example.  On the way home from church we swung into the fish 'n' chip shop to pick up some lunch. Some builders are doing blokey-type things at the back of our house this weekend and the local chippie is God's modern day answer to feeding the 5,000 - which equates to the feeding of three hungry builders in addition to our own hungry mouths. One feels very holy coming home from church and stopping off to shout lunch for a few extras. Just like Jesus.

Coming out of the takeaway I was fishing in my wallet for some cash to buy some bread when I felt a presence looming across my path. I think I picked up his "scent" before I saw him.  Sometimes South Auckland can seem more like Bangladesh with all the beggars we get outside our shops. Crap!  This big, hairy, smelly thug was about to ask me for money. I was coming home from church for goodness sake. Can't you just leave me to be a nice Christian in peace? He only wanted a dollar; he saw my pink wallet; he saw the greeny that I had just extracted from that wallet.  I avoided eye contact. "Errrrmmm...sorry, I don't have any change." No way was I giving my hard-earned cash to some loser for booze and smokes. How far does a dollar go anyway?  So instead of following Jesus I dashed into the sanctuary of the corner dairy and hid behind the chip stand.  I think God must have followed me in because I'm sure I heard the following conversation take place in my head:

Inner Voice: "Buy a pie."
Me: "What for? I can't eat pies!"
Inner Voice: "I need you to buy a pie."
Me: "But I've just bought chips and I've already told you, I can't eat the pie."
Inner Voice (at this point I think He was rolling his eyes because I was a bit slow in getting the point): "It's not for you. It's for me."
Me: "How am I supposed to give you a pie?"
Inner Voice: "...I was hungry and you gave me something to eat...whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me...and while you're at it, buy two"

I had only seen ONE guy out there so I bought just ONE steak and cheese pie.  I hastily pushed it into Smelly's hand on my way back to the chippie. That's when his friend stepped out from Pizza Hutt's doorway.  I didn't need any Inner Voice to tell me to get back to that pie warmer and finish the job.

It may have cost more than if I'd just handed over the buck but I think my money went to a good cause.

The builders appreciated their fish and chips too.

Don't tick off the Holy Man

I mentioned a couple of juicy Bible bits earlier. Elisha has had me thinking about being mocked. Now I would imagine that Elisha was probably a little odd looking. For one thing, he was a chrome dome. I'm imagining that there would have been more to Elisha's appearance than just his Kojak haircut. The story's described in 2 Kings 2:23-25 which I have mentioned simply because I wanted to show off my Theological proficiency by just pulling a Scripture out from the top of my head. Are you impressed? Don't be. I googled it. Anyway, back to Elisha:

I reckon he was probably fat and spotty with googly eyes and had a sort of limp - and quite possibly a Quasimoto-style hump. I firmly believe this because in the story he was mocked by not just a couple of spiteful larrakins, but at least 42 rotton teenage boys. I don't know, the youth of a few thousand years ago eh!  So there they were, hassling our heroic holy man with taunts about his physical appearance: "Go on up, you baldhead!" They really shouldn't have.

Since Elisha was cruising past Bethel towards Mount Carmel, I guess it was pretty heavy walking and his patience was bound to be wearing a little thin.  For those who don't know the outcome of the story, Elisha turned around, eye-balled the lot of them "and called down a curse in the name of the Lord".

Consequently two bears came out of the woods and taught 42 of those kids a darn good lesson. My guess is that they were probably she-bears. It sounds so much more dramatic to say she-bears.  I like to think that they didn't actually hurt those kids badly, just swatted them about a little. I'm certain they couldn't have eaten them because bears are omnivores and 42 teenagers would have given them a stomach ache for sure.

When I look at some of the today's rebels I think it's sad that we've got to be so politically correct about what we say to kids in school about God. Since I work at a high school I've often whispered a quiet prayer to the Big Guy to pleeeeeeease encourage these kids to shut the hey up and do some work. Please! Prayer in school! Somebody had better call the PC Police! But maybe I'm approaching this from the wrong angle. How about I just cut to the chase and get God to sick a couple of bears on them. Now that would be cool. It would certainly quieten the class down.  Or if God's short of bears in South Auckland, there are a few cows over the back paddock.

Elisha seriously impresses me, despite his unattractive appearance that I've convinced myself he was unfortunate enough to inflict on those who saw him. Firstly, he was courageous enough to turn around and face his bullies. Secondly, he didn't lash out at them. Thirdly, and most importantly, he left God to deal with them. This man knew how to trust God and boy, did He have his back covered.  42 plus hoodlums could have pummelled Elisha into the dirt and he'd have just faded away into the minor pages of history but the Lord had bigger plans for him.  I think it's kind of cool how God had it all sorted for him.

I hope those kids were okay but I might just pray about those cows stampeding through the school boundary fence. How cool would that be!

A word in God's ear

I suck at reading the Bible. There, I said it. I suck at reading the Word of God and I suck at praying. Other Christians talk about their morning "quiet time" and I'm in awe of them. My quiet time is either spent in the bathroom or updating my status on Facebook. Oh Lord have mercy on me for I am the biggest sinner of them all.

Hold up...that was a prayer. Booyah! 9:47am on a Friday morning and I've already had loads of conversations with my most Majestical Bestie. I said goodmorning to him when I woke up. I asked him to be with my husband when he testifies in a court case today. I thanked him for the cute little "I love you" card C made for me yesterday. I asked Him to help me not to be too much of a dufus today. Heck, I've been bending God's ears all morning.

Reading the Bible is a trickier challenge because so many irrelevant things crop up. Obviously it's because I'm such a threat in the spiritual realm that ol' Hairy Legs can't stand the thought of me getting ready for battle. Too bad he forgot that I use my favourite scripture as my password for my work applications and my next favourite on my Trade Me account.  Too bad he forgot that I have the "Daily Scripture Application" on Facebook.  Too bad that he forgot that I have my Bible beside my bed and I open it pretty much...most...not every single...day.

I think Hairy Legs has been trying to guilt me out by telling me that I'm not really reading the Word.  The idea gets into my head that I'm cheating because I keep dipping into Proverbs.  I like the Proverbs - short and to the point.  Then I get the thought that I'm just looking for the interesting bits by flicking around for the juicy stories such as the left-handed Ehud killing the super-fat Eglon in the loo; or Elisha being mocked by a group of hoodrats for being follically challenged. Can I help it if bits of the Bible are interesting?

In your face Hairy Legs. I'm not perfect and I know it. God knows it too and He likes me just the way I am.  I think I'd rather let Him take care of making the changes in my life, not you thank you very much Mr HL.

Kids' Talk

School holidays + no Sunday School programme = Ange giving a kids' talk for all the grown ups to enjoy as well. This Sunday I shall be speaking about banana-eating. It will have a very profound message and will involve blindfolding my husband (and possibly one or two others). The theme: looking silly while trying to follow what other people do. Following Jesus is a much better idea because He doesn't do anything daft. I hope God likes it.