A Dollar In My Pocket

I was talking with someone today, they had pair of vintage dungarees accidentally disposed of. I know the back story and even helped trying to find such a pair. I understood, empathised and advised how to put it into perspective. I have lost some things in my life that at the time were quite devastating. It reminded me of how small things can seem huge.

I was off shopping for Christmas presents when I was 12. I had my own money I had saved, $8.00. I had a job where I got paid $1;00 per day for delivering groceries on a behemoth of a bicycle. On this day I had bought all the presents I needed and had one dollar left. I felt like a rich man, I reached into my pocket and out it fluttered, quickly scooped up by the person behind me whom when I asked for it back said “finders keepers”. I was devastated, I even went to the Police who said sorry sonny, no proof, can’t help. That was it. In the scheme of things it didn’t matter as I had bought everyone a present, the last $1.00 was going to possibly buy me an ice cream soda. Now why would I remember this 50 years later, even now as I think about it I remembered an earlier loss of a coping saw, brand new and left on a bus. Another incident occurred the week of my first wedding (I know married more than once the loss in that is a whole nother story). I was in town to pick up the suits. I got to the shop and reached into my pocket for the $60:00 and it was gone, I rushed off to backtrack my steps but came back empty-handed, the proprietor said I see you have a cheque book sir, I said yeah but not the money in it to pay for the suits, he said post date it for two weeks and then we will worry about it then. Although I was relieved and thankful the fact that it has stuck in my memory indicates to me that it was a significant blow.

I have yet to work out why some of my most embarrassing, hurtful and frustrating moments seem to be indelibly scorched into my memory. Sure there are moments of triumph and wonder that still reside there. Perhaps I will do some reading about it as I think it is an important factor and can bog us down or leave us stuck when what is essentially a moment in time can impact us in a big way yet the thing is really trivial. I know it didn’t seem trivial then and everything needs perspective however the biggest perspective is that we come into this world with nothing and we take with us out of this world nothing material.

I have a judeo-christian set of beliefs about this life however my beliefs about the next are pan, that is they will pan out in the end. In many ways it is not about what we lose in this life it is about what we leave behind. What is our legacy? What memories do we leave behind for others? What impact on others do we leave behind? It is those things that really matter. I am not talking about money here, I am talking about things that help lives change. It is those moments that cancel out feelings of loss. Looking back and seeing the impact on others, (sometimes we will never see that impact).

Psychologist Julius Segal, in looking at what helps children overcome adversity, wrote that “one factor turns out to be the presence in their lives of a charismatic adult — a person from whom they gather strength. And in a surprising number of cases, that person turns out to be a teacher”. Being an influence that overcomes the adversity of others is not limited to teaching we must remember that if we mourn the loss of $1:00 how much more we must celebrate the people in our lives who bring the gift of overcoming adversity. In doing so and realising this we need to be intentional in doing this in any way we can, whether it be small or large actions. We never know when the smallest act can make a difference.

With love

Paul

Moral dilemmas,

I have been through a few, some I have failed at, others well I have managed to stand true. I am fortunate, I have a place to live, food to eat, even some toys. I am living week to week at the moment but I still have choices and I can improve my lot.

Some time ago I bought a small boat, not a lot of money, however enough. I have been out fishing three times. I want to fish more but needed to make some adjustments. I am safety-wise, I have life jackets, VHF, cell phone, first aid, and fire extinguisher and I won’t go out of the Harbour at the moment as I lack the experience to go across the bar at Waihi Beach. I am a member of Coastguard and put in trip reports (p.s. you don’t need to be a Coastguard member to put in trip reports).

I decided I would get a backup motor, I had two I had bought cheap, and regretted it, hard to start, I scrapped them this week. So I bought a brand new motor. Unboxed it and was gobsmacked, instead of the 999.00 motor in the box there was a 1600.00 one. Now as far as the law is concerned it was mine, a contract had been entered into and money exchanged hands. It felt good for a little while and I found myself justifying keeping the motor. That was dilemma number 1, very shortly after dilemma number two appeared.

I decided I better register my boat trailer and get it legal. I checked the registration plate and it was listed as stolen. My heart fell to my boots, you see for me that’s a no-brainer. It doesn’t belong to me. I may have bought it but stolen is stolen! I had a small pity party then called the Police, took that which was mine off the boat and hitched it up to my car. At the same time, I reboxed the motor and put it into the back of my car. Law or no law my conscience couldn’t keep it. Times are tough and retailers cannot afford to lose 600.00. I took the boat to the Police and returned the motor.

I would love to tell you that I felt great but actually, I didn’t. The boat thing happened as I did not do a fundamental check and run the plate number through the system. If it wasn’t listed as stolen or a security registered against it I would have been covered via an insurance system. To be fair I had ignored my niggles, it was;t super cheap or anything, there was just a quiet voice and I was ignoring it as I didn’t want to lose any money.

The Police Constable said you could have kept this thrown away the number plate and sampling removed the plate number that was painted on. I said it comes down to this I call myself a follower of Christ (thank God for Grace as sometimes I am not that flash at it) I also believe in integrity then there are the other po (posts that inform ny life). My Family and friends. A house that has only three walls or posts is not very strong. In the end if I have nothing but God, Family, Integrity and Friends then that is enough, I am a rich man.

Well I got a call from the Police, the only stolen thing on my boat was the number plate, the boat was not listed as stolen and the trailer that the plate matched was not a boat trailer. Could I please come and pick it up from the lock-up. I felt good, but not vindicated. I didn’t see it as a reward for doing the right thing. I got the money back that I had put down on the motor, so I decided to wait for an auxiliary rather than buy the one I was going to. That money needed to go to help some people who are away from their families working. to support them and I am putting on a Christmas Lunch for them. Once again I don’t feel that I am good and I don’t expect any reward here’s why.

My reward in life comes from knowing that doing the right thing as an outworking of my faith is my reward. To maintain faith in a living and practical way that also demonstrates how faith should be is something that the church just doesn’t do very well. Many people try however for many others, they go to church on a Sunday, they may put some money in the plate and that’s it.

Here is the kicker. Times are really tough for a lot of people right now, New Zealanders from the middle to the bottom of the economic scale are being smacked around in every corner. I will talk about that in my next post,

Be Strong and steadfast,

Paul

One One, Two Two, Three Three, Shit, Fuck!

I read the Death notices the other day, just to check if I was still alive, not that I would necessarily want a death notice in the paper. Those who are close to me would know already and why give the miserable buggers who don’t like me reason to celebrate?  I digress, in the notices was the name

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Why Food Banks are not the answer.

is a phrase coined in the 1500s, well before state welfare even existed, is the mantra that sits behind the government’s preoccupation with outsourcing to food banks, says Danielle Le Gallais. https://thespinoff.co.nz/society/13-12-2021/why-food-banks-arent-the-answer . Danielle provides around 150 people a week a meal on a Sunday for the people she calls people who are facing food insecurity. Danielle says the lockdown impacted the food she normally could provide in terms of quality and quantity. Is Danielle some rich lister? I doubt it she is a single mother of two who’s busy studying law at

When is enough?

How many times must I forgive my brother, Lord?   So says Peter in  a question to Jesus Howmanytimes, Peter postulates a good number up to seven times my Lord? Jesus replies not up to seven times, Peter is probably thinking phew that is not so hard then when Jesus hits him with the knockout,

Waiting for God

I have been corresponding with a friend of mine recently, her mum is seriously ill, hanging on to life by a thread, she has had a reasonable innings and also has cancer, so if her current illness doesn’t get her the cancer will.  She is waiting for God, I haven’t met her at all but from what I know she has had a full life

Manopausal perhaps?

Actually I think that dress makes your bum look big said no man ever…. well possibly not ever.

Jars of Clay

I went to church tonight as I am want to do on occasion, yes Friday night anyway that is for another time.  the speaker was talking about the future and my mind flicked over to a poem I wrote, one of the first that I wrote, it is called Jars of Clay

Jars of Clay

Lumps of dirt,
sweated from the ground.
Pounded and minced.

Hello Sciatica My Old Foe.

It  was almost a red letter day.  This chapter has been a relatively short few weeks however the book has been running for 24 years and it yet may not yet be over. I am not easily un-nerved however I felt some anxiety as I was seated, lots of shuffling of paper and what seemed an inordinate amount of errs, hmms, and umms did not help to settle me. 

Broken, somethings just are….

I remember it as if it were yesterday, 41 years is a long time to have a memory like that.  I had admired it for a week, standing tall and proud  Dressed in shining splendour, green and gold with a shiny silver overcoat, it had to be mine.  I am not sure how I wangled it, either bottles to the bottle-man or I may have mowed some lawns but in my hand I held the necessary to make it mine, possess and admire it till the time came to set it free.  I took it out of the over coat, smelt it savored  it, stroked it even, smooth then just a little rough.  I held it by its single white leg and imagined how it would end, and then disaster, in a moment it was an amputee, this thing of wonder lay in two pieces and I was desolate.  My rocket was broken.  this was no plastic fantastic but made in China nevertheless. This was the grand deluxe, sky traveller rocket, ready to be ignited to fly high into the sky and with a huge bang ignite a flare that would hang in the air by a thing of absolute marvel, its own parachute.  But now it was broken.  I remeber taping it up, but like a modern space rocket tape didn’t do it. I lit it, it fizzed rose a few feet, exploded and was done,  it was broken and could not be fixed, refired, rebuilt, re engineered, it was finished.

I thought about this as I read the news about the Pike River Mine http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11354441, it’s so unfair I heard one person lament.  Twenty nine men dead, and no one held accountable and no bodies to be recovered, no comfort here, just 29 men lying on the hard rock at the bottom of the earth, no words said over their bodies,no final farewells, time to move on they said, nothing more to be done, nothing to see here, move along. Tomorrow I have another MRI scan, back problems, bad, no relief from the relentless pain and disability, sucks me dry, destroys me one little bit at at time.

This is a last gasp attempt t try and get some resolution, lose some weight they said, so I dd 45 kgs, no improvement. get fit they said, so I did, be active so I did,get a job, so I did, take these pills, that vitamin, this mineral, pray, be thankful, all of these things I have done.  It is like I have used my prayer quota up on other things…. a long time ago.  I am prepared to be told that there is nothing “they” can do for me, I have heard it all before.  I have a plan for that but I know.  I know broken when I see it now and i am largely a broken man, living a life dictated by circumstance and brokenness.

I have encountered broken many times, I have pressed on chests and poured air into my neighbors lungs, in a futile attempt to start here heart beating again, all I did was push her blood into her chest, you see her heart was broken, an aneurysm they said, you did a good job, there was no chance, but I tried, I prayed and pumped and pumped and prayed and breathed, nothing, just a still whiteness and the smell of death,

I recognise other things in my life that are broken, I am tempted to try and fix them however b myself all I could do would be like my rocket, fix it with tape and hope, if I had had Gorilla glue I may have had a chance, however the weigh to be power ratio in the rocket was made for it to be perect and could never function with tape around the stick.  I have carried that broken rocket in my head for 40 plus years.  I hope the other brokenness is not with me for that long.

Live laugh and love well and freely, who knows what the morrow brings, it may be too late on the morrow.