Flying to Edinburgh almost brought one of those 'Idiot' moments. I had booked one of the Boarding Passes,but was unsure about how much Airport Tax had been paid, it increased at the start of the month. As I arrived at the desk to enquire re tax they pointed out the check-in had closed. The idiot inside me had read the closing time as the opening time! So next thing I was rushing, and upsetting my knees in the process, towards Gate 81. This was of course miles away, and I had to go through the security, then the 'shoe check' then rush for miles. Naturally,when I got there the plane was delayed and there had been no need to hurry. Jesus was looking after me, why did I worry? But I do. Self obsessed as I am.
Edinburgh is so different from Essex. Not just the city but the life. When I am there I am actually often back in time, I refer to the airport as 'Turnhouse,' a name not used for thirty years, and I return to a life I left that long ago. Not that it is all bad, however many of my memories are, and I do not like them. However, it is good to see the family. My nieces have all grown up into fine attractive intelligent women each still showing different characters but each one being a lovely lass in every way. Their kids are growing up in the same fine Scots tradition, however much political correctness destroys their education and common sense. And that is the one thing I have always missed down here. Watching them grow up. Now I miss the kids also.
It had to be, but how I wish I had been different.
My mother is now 92 and beginning to feel her age. But she well might outlive most of us! It is difficult being there as I am too selfish and too used to being on my own, hence the great desire to get back home come Sunday night. Nothing is better than being in your own place and following your own routine, no matter how mean and squalid it might be! Again I ask, could I live there? Not at home certainly, but maybe in Edinburgh or thereabouts if I found the right place. Of course to do this I need to win the lottery, and that my friend is just a lottery. But, after the tiredness wore off, I am back in the routine. Job hunt, self concern, staring at wall time asking what to do, then ignoring God and doing whatever I want anyway. Followed either by guilt or nothingness, then questioning how I am to get out of this? Easy pal. stop being selfish, let Jesus be Lord, and it will fall into place, slowly maybe, but surely!
Anyway, the flight back was interrupted by the neighbour at my side talking. Why, I ask, why can women not just look out the window and enjoy the view like I do? However Fiona turned out to be a bright highly intelligent woman, and there is not many of those around. Working for the Voluntary Arts project and struck me as well worth knowing. In the end I had to admit it was the best journey for a while. I also noticed how many folk seem to stand around doing little at the airport. Seems to me that is something to look into. That's my kind of work.
So by the grace of God the trip went reasonably well. However I still do not relate properly to Mum. Would I get on so well with the rest if I was nearby? They would see me as I am, and although they have a good idea of my ways, it will be awful to have them know just what a complete clown I am.
So Jesus, here we are, grateful for the wee holiday, but living totally for my squalid self once again. I apologise almost humbly, but still find my mind full of thoughts that do not glorify you, expose my weakness and emptiness, and indicate just how far I am from you. Should I stay in Essex or indeed anywhere else? I just do not know. Many good things here in northern Essex, not being alongside the stereotype 'Essex Boy and Girl' is one of them. But what now? I don't know, why ask me.......?
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