At last, a day without rain – well, a few sprinkles, but the
sheets are drying outside for a change.
So I attacked some of the weeds which have taken over the
veggie patch. Given the sort of day it is, I donned my cork hat from Australia
to deter the pesky flies. I tried tying a scarf round my mouth and nose, in
true Western outlaw style, but found that just too claustrophobic.
An hour later, walking the dog through the thigh-high
grass/weeds, I kept the cork hat on and held a jacket over my nose and mouth. I
was trying, in vain, to keep the hayfever from breaking out, but probably the
weeding had already done the job. Violent sneezing fits announced my approach
to every rabbit and pheasant within earshot.
I was willing to look foolish to deter certain irritations.
A hat to protect me from the rare, but warm, sun. Corks bobbing round it to
repel buzzing and biting flies. And a coat held over my face to block out
pollen.
The hat left my hair flat and lifeless. The corks annoyed me
probably as much as they annoyed the flies as they swung and tangled in
irregular patterns. The coat barricade was like closing the door after the
horses have bolted. Ridiculous.
Life is full of irritations – some which are nothing more
than annoying irritations, others which have consequences.
I can choose to deal with them in an unruffled fashion if I
spend time focused and centred on Jesus, so that his peace fills me with a deep
sense that I am safe. Or I can plough on, swatting at them and suffering the
annoying consequences.
This isn’t just a theory. I know it’s true in my life.
What I
can’t really fathom is why I so often fail to choose the way of peace, and
instead press on in my own inadequate strength.
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