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Today I curled up in my favourite old chair with this morning's Irish Times, a coffee in my favourite mug that says "Tea Time" and a rare free Saturday stretching in front of me.
Life's pretty good.
2011
October 1st
8:30am
Sleepily I stomp down the stairs dreaming of a monstrous Saturday breakfast.
Fresh berries and yoghurt.
A healthy fry.
Columbian coffee.
I open the fridge.
No milk.....no eggs.....no yoghurt!
The bacon and strawberries are beyond their dates and are headed for the bin.
What a waste!
Why can't people replace things when they run out
IT'S JUST NOT RIGHT!
So I head for the shop.
With my arms full of bits and pieces I join the queue to pay.
Suddenly someone decides to jump in front of me.
How can someone be so rude?
How dare they push in ahead?
I really feel like saying something!
IT'S JUST NOT RIGHT!
Then while I'm standing there behind the queue intruder, secretly fuming, I start to study her, I mean really study her.
Her arms are overflowing with groceries, the weekend paper and a take away coffee.
She's older than I'd thought at first with a cap wedged tightly down on her head.
Then I notice little tufts of straggly hair peeking out from underneath her cap.
She has no eyelashes and no eyebrows.
She's stick thin and has an oxygen tube in her nose.
I stop in my tracks.
Conscience check!
I stop thinking about myself and start thinking about her.
I wonder what her story is?
Why do I feel like my needs are more important than someone else's?
Why am I filled with righteous indignation about the perceived wrongs that are done to me?
I tap her on the shoulder and start a conversation about the rain.
She turns and gives me a smile from the heart.
She lets me carry her shopping.
How different was my day after that?
I want to be a girl with hope.
I want to be a girl that doesn't give in to bitterness and judgement.
I want to be a girl who is unselfish and giving.

1945
VE Day

The doorbell rings persistently.
I'm sitting next to the wireless, listening without believing.
I finally drag myself out of my threadbare chair to answer the door.
The raggedy child from No.3 is jumping up and down on my porch.
"Didya hear Mrs J? Didya hear? The war is over!"
People are shouting.
Church bells are pealing.
Factory whistles are blowing.
It seems like the whole world is rejoicing - but not me.
"It's peace!" they yelled.
"The war's been won!"
"Our sons and husbands are coming home!"
I quietly close the door on the noise.
"Not all of them" I whisper and my tears fall again.
I feel like I've been crying for years.
My heart feels broken - I can't feel joy and hope even though the world has gone crazy with joy and hope.
IT'S JUST NOT RIGHT!
Why did my husband have to die?
Out of all those who went to serve and protect their country, why was my beloved one of the ones who never made it home?
I cover my ears with my hands to shut out the celebrations that are invading.
And I cry bitterly.
IT'S JUST NOT RIGHT!
Then a little hand breaks through my sadness and tears, tugging on my sleeve.
She bounces up and down.
"Mummy stop crying now. It's me! Can you hear the bells Mum? Everyone is running outside! Can we go too?"
I stop in my tracks.
Reality check.
I need to go into this new future.
So my child learns how to hope.
So my child learns not to give into bitterness.
So my child learns to give even when it hurts.
We leave the house holding hands and step into the noise and joyful devastation to start again.

It's just not right!
What if God said that?
He'd have every right wouldn't He?

God created us in His own image.
God put us in charge of a wonderful created home.
And we turned our back on Him.
It's just not right!

So God parted with His Son.
He gave Him up.  To live among us. 
And we decided to end His life.
It's just not right!

But God was bigger than our actions.
He wasn't finished with us yet.
He rose again to save us!
He never once gave up on us.
He wants us to have hope
He wants us to live and love without bitterness.
He wants us to give of ourselves unselfishly.
And think of others instead of ourselves.

Then we can do nothing but be like our Creator.












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