I don't know about you, but I am a slow learner. As a child I was
notoriously gullible and have come to the sad conclusion that not much
has changed with age. The fact that I had three much older siblings
didn't help matters, particularly as they took intense pleasure in
tormenting my younger brother and me. (My parents produced a pre-war
and post-war litter of children, and the war I am referring to here is
World War 2, just in case you were wondering.) I recall one sister
asking me if I wanted to taste something delicious, and if I did, to
close my eyes and open my mouth. Thinking about it with hindsight, I
realise that time has not added much wisdom, because I would in all
likelihood do exactly what I did then. I closed my eyes, opened my
mouth, and bit down on the hottest red chili pepper known to man.
After my screaming subsided I tearfully wanted to know why she had
done that and was told that it was to teach me not to be greedy! You
would imagine that this would have instilled a degree of mistrust in
me, but not a bit of it. I have spent my life optimistically closing
my eyes and opening my mouth, anticipating a mouthful of something
delectable, only to spit out whatever I have so trustingly bitten
into.
Before Christie was born I read a number of books on childbirth and
babies. All I can say is that liars should be prosecuted! Do not ever
believe that breathing in and out with puffed cheeks does any more
than make you look like an out of breath puffer fish. I dutifully
practiced pursing my lips and exhaling short bursts of breath in the
belief that it would help labour pains. It doesn't! Nor do babies lie
sleeping peacefully in their prams while you relax in the garden next
to them, soaking up the sun and regaining your strength, as promised
by one deluded author. Believe me, many of these books are written by
the adult equivalent of Enid Blyton, whose Famous Five exploits I
devoured and believed with the same level of trust that caused me to
eat a chili. These children picnicked on fabulous lunches of fresh
ripe tomatoes, boiled eggs, crusty bread and fresh farm butter, ginger
beer, and fruit cake, had one adventure after another, and never
needed to go to the loo. They outwitted smugglers, lived in caravans,
bathed in beautiful coves, and never froze or broke any bones. Babies
keep you awake, scream for hours for no reason, vomit on you as you
are about to go out, and mess more nappies (diapers to my American
readers) than seems humanly possible. How much the digestive tract of
a tiny human being can hold is a source of amazement to any new
parent. The fact that it comes out both ends, sometimes
simultaneously, is an extra bonus. Are they worth it? More than you
can imagine. Although I seriously doubted it for a few weeks, children
really ARE the reward of the Lord. Did it feel like that in the
beginning? Not in the least, because I had fallen for the close your
eyes and open your mouth routine. If only someone had warned me of the
rigors of those early weeks, I would have been prepared. Let me remind
you that a very effective form of torture is sleep deprivation. I have
watched war movies of prisoners of war being allowed to drift off to
sleep for a few blissful moments before having a bright light shone in
their eyes, dragging them back to consciousness in order to continue
with the interrogation. A baby's screams intruding into the exhausted
sleep of a parent supersedes the bright lights of enemy interrogators,
believe me. I don't think I got dressed in a month, merely changing
pajamas with unhygienic irregularity. Eventually those first weeks
passed, I discovered I had not lost my salvation, I was not the worst
mother ever to walk this earth, and the true joy of motherhood finally
kicked in. Now I can eagerly await grandchildren, safe in the
knowledge that I can give them back at night and sleep peacefully.
Back to slow learning. For a very long time I believed advertisements.
I forgot that those incredible tv gadgets that chop and slice and dice
at breakneck speed come delivered in a box, and the box does not
contain the tv chef. YOU are expected to put the contraption together,
figure out how to hold it, and what to do with the carrot you are
meant to chop in three seconds. Ten minutes later, fingers shredded
and carrot intact, you discover that once again you have closed your
eyes and opened your mouth. So you spit it out back in its box, wash
your mouth out because of the expletives you have uttered, and bury it
in the cupboard until the time comes for yet another Bless Another
drive at the church. The child I raised - that very same one that made
me doubt salvation and sanity in her first few weeks of life, but whom
I now adore - has inherited this gullible gene when it comes to tv
advertising. As a child Christie was addicted to tv commercials. I
would come home sometimes from church when she was on school holidays,
to find that she had telephonically ordered a variety of gadgets, from
glow in the dark blocks to window washers and yogurt makers, all
doomed to the tv gadget cupboard tomb. This child of mine was and is
totally black and white, and she only stopped buying things once she
discovered that she had been conned! "They are all LIARS!" she told me
vehemently one day. From that day she has opened her eyes and closed
her mouth!
What about me? On my last American trip I found myself wide awake and
jet-lagged at 1a.m. TV was the obvious answer, and naturally a
commercial channel was irresistible. I tried, unsuccessfully as it
turned out, to buy a variety of once in a lifetime offers, including
items that I could never have carried onto an aeroplane. I am very
grateful that it is impossible to buy anything on line in America with
a South African credit card. I am convinced that Sky Mall magazines,
offering for sale everything from plastic garden gnomes and
retractable clothes lines to multi-pocketed carry-on luggage, are
designed for people like me. So far I have successfully resisted the
urge, a very strong one, to buy a set of foam dog steps, allowing a
small dog to have its own staircase onto a high bed. Congratulations
are in order here. But all this brings me to the point of all this.
Advertisers offer seductively presented items which are, sadly,
guaranteed to disappoint. Authors make picnics in the rain sound
exciting, neglecting, of course, to mention ants, flies, soggy
sandwiches, and drenched clothes. Travel brochures present
romanticized views of beautiful beaches, failing to show the filthy
streets one road behind the beach. Close your eyes, they say. Open
your mouth. You will really love the taste. Gagging and heaving, you
find out that all men are liars. But God isn't like that at all. He
promises us trouble if we follow Him. He says that if they hated Him,
then they will surely hate us. In this world, He says, you WILL have
tribulation. Open your eyes, He says. Know what you are doing when you
follow Me. Count the cost. Then also open your eyes to the reward. And
He is not some well-trained tv presenter, convincing you to buy a
product that is bound to disappoint. He PROMISES us a beautiful home
with him, and a glorious life, where every tear will be wiped away,
and death will be no more, where we get to enjoy the rewards of
denying ourselves and living for Him. And that means close your mouth
to all negativity, all complaints and murmuring, all doubt and
unbelief. Open your eyes and close your mouth, and believe the One who
can never lie. I have decided that I would rather err on the side of
trust than ever fall into the trap of cynicism and suspicion. That is
because, like Paul, I know the One in Whom I have believed, and I
eagerly await the day when I get to unwrap that gift that has been
promised.
Till next month, God bless. Fiona
notoriously gullible and have come to the sad conclusion that not much
has changed with age. The fact that I had three much older siblings
didn't help matters, particularly as they took intense pleasure in
tormenting my younger brother and me. (My parents produced a pre-war
and post-war litter of children, and the war I am referring to here is
World War 2, just in case you were wondering.) I recall one sister
asking me if I wanted to taste something delicious, and if I did, to
close my eyes and open my mouth. Thinking about it with hindsight, I
realise that time has not added much wisdom, because I would in all
likelihood do exactly what I did then. I closed my eyes, opened my
mouth, and bit down on the hottest red chili pepper known to man.
After my screaming subsided I tearfully wanted to know why she had
done that and was told that it was to teach me not to be greedy! You
would imagine that this would have instilled a degree of mistrust in
me, but not a bit of it. I have spent my life optimistically closing
my eyes and opening my mouth, anticipating a mouthful of something
delectable, only to spit out whatever I have so trustingly bitten
into.
Before Christie was born I read a number of books on childbirth and
babies. All I can say is that liars should be prosecuted! Do not ever
believe that breathing in and out with puffed cheeks does any more
than make you look like an out of breath puffer fish. I dutifully
practiced pursing my lips and exhaling short bursts of breath in the
belief that it would help labour pains. It doesn't! Nor do babies lie
sleeping peacefully in their prams while you relax in the garden next
to them, soaking up the sun and regaining your strength, as promised
by one deluded author. Believe me, many of these books are written by
the adult equivalent of Enid Blyton, whose Famous Five exploits I
devoured and believed with the same level of trust that caused me to
eat a chili. These children picnicked on fabulous lunches of fresh
ripe tomatoes, boiled eggs, crusty bread and fresh farm butter, ginger
beer, and fruit cake, had one adventure after another, and never
needed to go to the loo. They outwitted smugglers, lived in caravans,
bathed in beautiful coves, and never froze or broke any bones. Babies
keep you awake, scream for hours for no reason, vomit on you as you
are about to go out, and mess more nappies (diapers to my American
readers) than seems humanly possible. How much the digestive tract of
a tiny human being can hold is a source of amazement to any new
parent. The fact that it comes out both ends, sometimes
simultaneously, is an extra bonus. Are they worth it? More than you
can imagine. Although I seriously doubted it for a few weeks, children
really ARE the reward of the Lord. Did it feel like that in the
beginning? Not in the least, because I had fallen for the close your
eyes and open your mouth routine. If only someone had warned me of the
rigors of those early weeks, I would have been prepared. Let me remind
you that a very effective form of torture is sleep deprivation. I have
watched war movies of prisoners of war being allowed to drift off to
sleep for a few blissful moments before having a bright light shone in
their eyes, dragging them back to consciousness in order to continue
with the interrogation. A baby's screams intruding into the exhausted
sleep of a parent supersedes the bright lights of enemy interrogators,
believe me. I don't think I got dressed in a month, merely changing
pajamas with unhygienic irregularity. Eventually those first weeks
passed, I discovered I had not lost my salvation, I was not the worst
mother ever to walk this earth, and the true joy of motherhood finally
kicked in. Now I can eagerly await grandchildren, safe in the
knowledge that I can give them back at night and sleep peacefully.
Back to slow learning. For a very long time I believed advertisements.
I forgot that those incredible tv gadgets that chop and slice and dice
at breakneck speed come delivered in a box, and the box does not
contain the tv chef. YOU are expected to put the contraption together,
figure out how to hold it, and what to do with the carrot you are
meant to chop in three seconds. Ten minutes later, fingers shredded
and carrot intact, you discover that once again you have closed your
eyes and opened your mouth. So you spit it out back in its box, wash
your mouth out because of the expletives you have uttered, and bury it
in the cupboard until the time comes for yet another Bless Another
drive at the church. The child I raised - that very same one that made
me doubt salvation and sanity in her first few weeks of life, but whom
I now adore - has inherited this gullible gene when it comes to tv
advertising. As a child Christie was addicted to tv commercials. I
would come home sometimes from church when she was on school holidays,
to find that she had telephonically ordered a variety of gadgets, from
glow in the dark blocks to window washers and yogurt makers, all
doomed to the tv gadget cupboard tomb. This child of mine was and is
totally black and white, and she only stopped buying things once she
discovered that she had been conned! "They are all LIARS!" she told me
vehemently one day. From that day she has opened her eyes and closed
her mouth!
What about me? On my last American trip I found myself wide awake and
jet-lagged at 1a.m. TV was the obvious answer, and naturally a
commercial channel was irresistible. I tried, unsuccessfully as it
turned out, to buy a variety of once in a lifetime offers, including
items that I could never have carried onto an aeroplane. I am very
grateful that it is impossible to buy anything on line in America with
a South African credit card. I am convinced that Sky Mall magazines,
offering for sale everything from plastic garden gnomes and
retractable clothes lines to multi-pocketed carry-on luggage, are
designed for people like me. So far I have successfully resisted the
urge, a very strong one, to buy a set of foam dog steps, allowing a
small dog to have its own staircase onto a high bed. Congratulations
are in order here. But all this brings me to the point of all this.
Advertisers offer seductively presented items which are, sadly,
guaranteed to disappoint. Authors make picnics in the rain sound
exciting, neglecting, of course, to mention ants, flies, soggy
sandwiches, and drenched clothes. Travel brochures present
romanticized views of beautiful beaches, failing to show the filthy
streets one road behind the beach. Close your eyes, they say. Open
your mouth. You will really love the taste. Gagging and heaving, you
find out that all men are liars. But God isn't like that at all. He
promises us trouble if we follow Him. He says that if they hated Him,
then they will surely hate us. In this world, He says, you WILL have
tribulation. Open your eyes, He says. Know what you are doing when you
follow Me. Count the cost. Then also open your eyes to the reward. And
He is not some well-trained tv presenter, convincing you to buy a
product that is bound to disappoint. He PROMISES us a beautiful home
with him, and a glorious life, where every tear will be wiped away,
and death will be no more, where we get to enjoy the rewards of
denying ourselves and living for Him. And that means close your mouth
to all negativity, all complaints and murmuring, all doubt and
unbelief. Open your eyes and close your mouth, and believe the One who
can never lie. I have decided that I would rather err on the side of
trust than ever fall into the trap of cynicism and suspicion. That is
because, like Paul, I know the One in Whom I have believed, and I
eagerly await the day when I get to unwrap that gift that has been
promised.
Till next month, God bless. Fiona
And bees! The always romanticize bees in a picnic scenario - no one ever gets stung!!
ReplyDeleteChildren are so trusting. And then other children go and abuse that. How rude.
I think as Christians we are too trusting too. Always believing that there's good to everyone and everything out there; never presuming that their intentions may not be honourable. But we're warned to guard our hearts; to be shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves.
(Easy one! Right up there with riding the flying pigs.)
Where do you find the balance?
However... having had my fill of closed-eyed open-mouthed torture (pun intended) I think I'll just keep that one eye a smidge open while I appraise the approaching delicacy in the finger and thumb.