PRONE TO CLONE

So it is past the middle of April, and my blog is late. Sorry blog public! Grace seems to be a hot topic, so try extending some to an overworked blogger. At least you will be right on trend and will be striking a blow against legalism. That makes me feel so free. Who said I had to write a blog each month anyway?

I have recently returned from a week's holiday, during which I had time to relax. That is if you count sleeping till all hours, staring at the ocean, and eating in the room so that you don't have to wear anything remotely respectable as relaxing. I do! If I can't spend a week snorkelling on some reef, or being driven through gorgeous country, or visiting Vienna or Paris or Venice, then I would just as soon stay in my room all week and do nothing. And watch 24!!!! This was courtesy of Tasha, my niece, who first got me addicted to The West Wing, and now to the adrenaline gushing 24 hour day of Jack Bauer. If you don't know what I am talking about, I salute you. If you do, say with me, "My name is Fiona (fill in applicable name) and I am a tv addict!" I am of the opinion that we need exorcisms, not deliverance!!

President Bartlett and Jack Bauer aside, I spent some time watching and thinking about people. "My name is Fiona and I am a people-watching addict!" People fascinate me. I walk my dog around the suburb where I live, which, in the South African context, is a safe thing to do. I freely confess to praying every time I set out with Coco, that we are protected from other dogs, particularly Rottweilers, insane drivers, snakes, and last on my list, people. By people I am referring to anyone brandishing a firearm or knife, and not the normal folk I meet during these afternoon strolls. I would love to have you picture me power walking the neighborhood, with my poodle cantering at a good pace in front of me, but honesty compels me to tell the truth. We stroll, so that Coco, who is 14 and has only her sense of smell fully functional, can investigate each and every scent along our route. ( Another time I will tell you what happened when Tasha, who is an exercise addict, took my two geriatric dogs for a "walk", brought them back barely alive, and told me they were the most unfit dogs in Durban. I reminded her that they were 91 and 105 in dog years and could hardly be expected to sprint up and down hills with her! Cadbury has since expired, with his legs no longer functioning, and Tasha has not been asked to walk the dog again! )

Back to people-watching. These strolls provide an endless form of entertainment for me. One afternoon, as I was walking past the tennis courts on the corner of my road, I met an elderly couple whom I have only ever seen that one time. The lady was diminutive and her husband tall and lanky. As we were about to pass each other with the obligatory smile and greeting, she darted off into the grounds of the court playground, plopped her little behind on the swing, and blissfully began to swing, while her husband looked on tolerantly. "I can never resist a swing," she called out happily to me. "She will never grow up!" he told me. I walked on with a sense that there really was something heartwarming that I had just witnessed. On the same road, but on another occasion, I was hailed from inside a garden by yet another elderly woman with her hair in an untidy bun, wisps of hair all over her face. She had a German accent, and almost before I knew what was happening, was in her house, Coco on my lap, being told stories about her life that you probably wouldn't believe, but which, I am convinced, were genuine. She is a real, live French Comte's widow, and is still legally a countess. She is very eccentric, has tame hadedas which she feeds with saucers of milk, ( yes, really ), and is a poetess.

These are just two of hundreds of encounters with people of various races whom I encounter on these walks. ( I also encounter wildlife, most notably monkeys, which are equally entertaining, especially when they perch along the top of the tennis court netting, and curiously watch the game ). The thing that continually intrigues me is that each person is unique and individual and idiosyncratic. We are an expression of God's creativity, and each of us is an expression, in some way, of who He is. How terrible, then, that we are so prone to clone. The entire fashion industry is built on the premise that we are not individuals at all, and that in order to fit in, we have to follow the latest trend slavishly. How else would the fashion empires survive? We buy and read magazines to discover whether sunglasses this season are big or bigger, whether grey is the new black, and whether bling is hot or not!

This is unfortunate when it comes to fashion, but tragic when it comes to Christianity. Follow fashion by all means, even if you are intelligent enough to know that someone, somewhere, is deciding how you should dress and what label is "in" enough that you won't be " out" if you don't wear it. But please, please, please, don't let anyone turn you into their clone by causing you to adopt the latest and trendiest church fashion statement. We are the ones who are prone to clone. He doesn't do that. He made you as a divine original, and YOU reflect HIM best by discovering who that is and being unashamedly you. And, by the way, the bible does not need any fashionably new way of looking at truth.

Enjoy your next sprint or stroll through your neighbourhood!

God bless you,
Fiona