Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Sometimes I worry about my brain

You've just got to the end of leading a bible study, you think, 'that was okayish,' and someone comes across and whispers to you, 'I could see you were struggling at the end and I would have stepped in but I didn't think it was my place.'

Okay, so at least that suggests it was only obvious I was struggling at one point ...

Anyway Martin said, 'well done,' which I consider to be the equivalent of an Olympic gold medal so I won't worry too much.

I was leading the study on Abraham's three visitors in Genesis 18. I really enjoyed preparing for it and was quite enthused and excited leading it, which possibly means as Ric said, 'you should get out more.'

On the plus side I didn't run out of things to say. If anything I think I talked too much but nobody else seemed to be in a discussionary mood. Or maybe I didn't ask the right questions to get them talking. In the end I'm afraid I had to resort to the church option. 'Have you ever felt let down by God, by the CHURCH or by others?' That worked a treat releasing, as it always does, a stream of fury against churches.

Praying at the end I had one of those blank moments. Halfway through a prayer for someone whose parent had died I realised I couldn't remember if it was the dad or the mum: ' in the loss of ... this special character.'

One good thing about being in Zac's is that we tend to be a depository for leftover food. Last night before we started we were given 4 trays of posh Marks & Spencers' sandwiches including prawn, smoked salmon and pastrami. Afterwards Steve turned up with the remains from a bonfire party, including hot dogs, sausage rolls and cakes. And most of it was eaten too. there was a good crowd and it was a cold night.

I also made up two bags of tinned food for a couple of the guys to take home. One of the lads, Ben, was on his pushbike. When he left he returned a few moments later and said, 'My handle's broken; do you have a couple of carrier bags I could have?'
I stared at him for a moment then went and fetched 2 from the kitchen. I gave them to him and said to Steve, 'His handle's broken,' trying to telepathically suggest that he go and help him fix it. Because for the life of me I couldn't see how 2 carrier bags would be of any help with a broken pushbike handle.
Yes, you're there before me, aren't you? It wasn't the handlebar of his pushbike that had broken but the handle of the carrier bag I'd put his food in. 

Sometimes I worry about my brain.


Anne in Oxfordshire said...

Hi Liz, I am glad you said that ,, we worry too , lol. Love your snippets , brightens my day , your certainly come out with some corkers x

Liz said...

Glad to hear it, anne!