I have been wondering for some time what my ideal job is. I know what it is, but I don’t think it really exists or anyone gets paid for it. The job involves trawling charity shops for theatre props. It is important that the props or stuff I buy to turn into props costs next to nothing. I have gathered nearly all the props for my church’s up-coming Christmas Journey production (see blog 64 – https://aintwegotitmade.wordpress.com/2014/12/07/achilles-blog-64-and-breathe-6-12-14/) in this way. Having spent the last 2 days in bed with a temperature and very bad sore throat…I ventured out to go and croak at 2 meetings today. On the way home, I went to Sainsbury’s to get some fresh ginger for my mum’s ginger tea sore throat remedy. Something made me stop in the Emmaus charity shop, which is on the way….I hadn’t been there for quite a while. It’s run by Frenchman James and we’re on nodding terms..and I like him cos he does usually try to be helpful to people he knows/recognises. I didn’t know why I was there or what I was looking for, until I saw it. My church is undergoing a major refurbishment and the coffin trestle stands we usually purloin to create the manger for baby Jesus are safely stored away somewhere…and unfind-able. So there it was….a large Moses basket and stand for which James wanted £10…and he let me have the stand only (which is all we need) for a fiver. Didn’t even have to pray for that miracle…but hey, it’s for the main man, so I guess miracles will be sort of…automatic.
In fact, now I think about it, that shop was the scene of another miracle. Joy, mother of 2 and fellow parishioner at St. Ms, was standing stock still, pensively rubbing her chin near the doorway of the shop, when I stopped by some years ago for no good reason at all other than that I was just passing. Joy and her 2 sons are victims of the horrors that was the civil war in Sierra Leone. She’s very shy and doesn’t usually stop for coffee after church..but we recognised each other. What’s up? I asked. She was praying she said, …cos she had just spent £100 on a very good, secondhand, combination wardrobe with 3 drawers. She literally lived 50 yards down the road…but with no transport she was going to have to pay £10 she didn’t have to the shop to deliver it. The best they could do was offer her their transport trolley. She just didn’t see how she could do it on her own. Now, I have to say that if you ever want furniture moving, you could do a lot worse than have me turn up. Moving stuff is what I try to avoid doing…but in case I have to, I am well prepared with a series of bungees permanently in the boot of my car. I am a bit of a moving-stuff-on-your-own expert. I whipped the bungees out and we girls strapped the wardrobe to the trolley and trundled it 5 minutes down the road to her house. That was the first time (of which I am aware), that I was a miracle. Yay!!
jx
PS: check Albert Einstein’s take on miracles: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is a though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.” I found this quote quite easily…it’s on a post-it on my desktop.
Ain't we got it made? 