Everyone has a story

Everyone has a story don’t they.  Whether its happy or sad, exciting or boring, life altering or just life sharing, we all have our story to tell.  As I sit here in the church listening to the priest tell the story of my lovely friends life and how she has just collected her express ticket to the pearly gates, I can’t help but wonder what my story is.  I know that I haven’t done anything earth shattering or life altering, but I guess, like my beautifulfriend I have made an impact on some peoples lives.  And I suppose that says a lot.  And it’s important. I think it’s more important than some who have much more important jobs with big fancy titles, or who think they are someone just because of their jobs.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m happy that they are happy doing what they do.  I just wish they would get off my case and allow me to be happy doing what I do.  And that’s being a mother. 

It’s a job that I absolutely love, yet I feel that I am being made redundant in. However, unlike when you are actually paid to do a job and the boss calls you to the board room only to hand you an envelope stating you are redundant and this is your pay out, being made redundant by your teenagers is a long drawn out process. It’s a job that has been life consuming for the past 18 years and now all of a sudden they have a licence and a job and a life of their own.  I mean, how dare they?  Don’t they think about poor old mum sitting at home alone, with no career because she has just dedicated her entire adultlife to raising them?

No. They are much more concerned with how they are going to lower the springs on their car so that it will be virtually dragging on the ground making it look totally ‘sick’.  Or how much bigger they can make the massive holes in their  ears.  I mean seriously, I could put a bloodychain and padlock through it.  Hmm,maybe that’s what I should do. Chain him to the couch and make him stay home a bit more often.  Then again, maybe not. 

I looked over at my friend Georgie’s kids.  Georgie would be my second best friend in the whole world, next to my husband of course. When she phoned me to say that Therese had left us for an eternity of peace, I couldn’t quite believe it.  She was only 47.  We’re not supposed to die and leave our children until we are at least 87. What was God thinking?  Watching your children grow is the most precious gift of all.  One that makes my heart cry for my friend Therese. 

RIP my beautiful friend and know that your children and your husband will be watched over and cared for.  Not in the same way that you watchedand cared for them, but in the best way that we all know how.