Categories: uncategorized
Date: 10 October 2004 15:18:24
I have locked myself in the lounge in order to hide from the sounds of two Smudgelets not tidying their bedroom. Things have come to a head. After weeks of trying incentives and withdrawn priviledges and even pointing out how I'd rather they cut out one cuddle and "I love you" a day (of which there are many) and spend the time putting their dirty socks in the wash basket, I have resorted to grounding them to their room until it is done. To MY satisfaction. So I am enduring the alternating noise of two boys arguing and fighting and of two boys totally distracted from the task in hand and playing. They even came out giggling with a mountain of dirty clothes - about a month's worth of washing, half of which was pretty much clean - and expected me to find it funny! Poor boys, they just don't understand.
I'm struggling with a dilemma at the moment. Dad's church has amalgamated with another and suddenly he no longer wants to go there, he wants to come to church with us. In many ways this is lovely. I feel guilty for my reaction. The thing is, it's a real inconvenience. Boy, do I feel awful just typing that! But the Smudgelets have swimming before church and it's a madcap dash to get home and get them changed and whizz back to church in time for the first hymn. Dad hates being rushed, and also hates getting there after the service has started. And on the days when I am playing the organ, I just don't have time to come back in between.
Add to that, the days when I simply decide not to go - which isn't often, I'll admit, but occasionally happens - I'll feel duty bound to go because the alternative means explaining to Dad why I'm missing a week.
After the service, I like to hang around and natter to my friends. Dad hates hanging around, and finds it difficult to make small talk with anyone unless they approach him first. I have decided that my need of communication with people my own age (and older, as is the only option in our church) is such that Dad will just have to wait, but it's hard to chat in a relaxed manner when your elderly father is pacing the vestibule and looking longingly at you because he's ready to go home and have a rest. And, of course, it means I can't offload to my friends when he's really wound me up! Probably just as well, that one, but it does feel as though a special space has been invaded, albeit by someone I really love. But how can I begrudge him communion with God in my place of worship? How dreadful can you get? And how can I be steadfastly selfish about the way I approach my Sunday worship, knowing that it makes things difficult for him? Ho hum - I shall just have to subdue this selfishness somehow and enjoy the fact that we are able to worship together as a family for as long as I have him here. Especially in view of the fact that my sister's mother-in-law (my honorary gran) is dying and her son will no longer have a parent to spend time with.
I had to avoid the giggles in church when the children's address was about being a tortoise. I wondered if it was our Saviour tortoise - you know, the one in the Lord's Prayer when we pray together as our saviour tortoise. interesting children's address, though, about the only way to communicate with God properly and move forward is to stick your neck out! And also about it being OK to tell God exactly how you feel, even if that means using angry words.
I am off now to find someone my father won't object to to look after him for a few days while we're up in the frozen North at a wedding. Typical - I think this is the first time ever that Dad's expressed enthusiasm about going to stay a week with my sister up in the Midlands. I wonder if that's because he knew that we would be unable to call his bluff on this one as she's far too busy sitting by her mother-in-law's bedside to have my father there as well.
If you have a moment to spare, please pray that Edith's passing is soft and gentle, and pray for comfort for her son and my sister, for whom she has taken the place of my mother since my mum died. Pray too for the grandchildren, too far away to visit her for a last time. And pray for my Dad, losing a special friend and becoming once more aware of his own mortality.
Right then, Smudgie, avoid the Green and Blacks and get on with those phone calls.