Do you know what the biggest problem is, with walking to work in soggy shorts, t-shirt, baseball cap and rain-mac?
Yes. Home-time came, and with it, the lovely prospect of walking back up the hill in still soggy shorts, t-shirt, baseball cap and rainmac. Thankfully, the evening sun had broken through and gold-tinged white clouds hung in a Septemberish sky. It was dry, at least.
My head is full of thoughts. Something happened today that has made me stop and wonder. What if the most honourable thing to do in a situation is also the most painful? What if it’s evident that a decision is the right one, one that must be made, perhaps one that’s not even arisen of your own making, but will secretly be a costly one?
Being a grown-up is tough sometimes. You do your best to simplify things and they still end up tangled, mostly by everyone else trying to simplify things. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. We are all responsible for the tangle.
That was one thought up Pincents Lane. Then my friend messaged me about her horse, and in a ‘delicious’ twist of irony I trod in some horse poo while trying to reply. She’d find that too contrived a coincidence and assume I’d made it up, I expected, so I couldn’t even tell her. It genuinely did happen though. I spent the rest of the ascent scraping my right sole against the path.
This type of decision-making is probably where faith is at its most useful. I have to trust that my choice is honourable because it feels right, according to my faith in God’s promises. The selfish path looks happier, but I can’t always trust my eyes. Maybe in some unseen way, the Potentate of Time has it all worked out for us. My worldview reminds me, along with my battered old Bible, that I can trust the narrow path.
Just as long as I keep my eyes open, and no horses have been there first.
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