Funerals - and Fungi

Lovely fungi foto by Captain B of a Wrinkled Peach - but is there an unfortunate metaphor there.  Surely not? Surely I am as young and lovely as I ever was?   Oh dear.   Though I must also say that I am more appreciative of the wonderful gift of life every day that goes by.

That crisp packet still remains undented despite all my efforts at the "Crush the Crisp Packet" exercises. In fact I am wondering if I have gone and picked a packet that has been instructed to do some "Crush the Spine" exercises by its physio.

We both had Zoom chats with our siblings on Monday. All seems well - the cats have not appeared on camera yet, nor been allowed out, but they continue to settle in.  We are hearing from family and friends daily which is nice, and I am trying to reply to all with the new cards Col has had made from some of his many splendid photos.

Another tiny child has been tortured to death, under the nose of our Orwellian "care" system.  Star Hobson was tormented by her mother and the mother's brutal girlfriend. In plain view - they videoed some of it apparently. Once again I cannot bear to read much beyond the headlines.  Severe bruising, many doctors visits, and once again the grandparents tried to sound the alarm with the Social Workers, but were ignored and brushed off.  Though the tabloids today are suggesting worse. They allege they were told they were being "bigoted" by making these complaints and trying to save this small child from being beaten to death.   What a rotten rotten system it is - I mean the whole world system.  And how much we need the loving rule of the Kingdom of God. 

I attended a funeral on Tuesday, for Steve.  In Zoom, and in shining contrast.  He was a loving husband, father, grandfather, brother, son.  The short and touching - and funny - memorial was full of pictures of him and his family and you could see what a loving family he had, and hear it in their memories of him.  If only every child  on earth had a father like Steve.  

One day, of course, they will.  

I hope little Star will when Jehovah wakes her from the dreamless sleep of death. Her life with her mother was a nightmare, but there will be no more nightmares for her. And held safe in "the everlasting arms", - safe in Jehovah's memory, every hair of her head numbered - she could not be with someone who loves her more.