Hospital Visiting
My father-in-law was taken into hospital yesterday. They've got him on a medical assessment ward- in a bed across from the toilets with their bracing stink. He's a sociable man- and being in there with people to enquire about has bucked him up no end. I'm not saying loneliness is the only thing wrong with him- it isn't- but it's clearly a factor. I left him telling Ailz and her mother about everything that was wrong with the other patients and went for a walk through what used to be my parish. I passed a couple of girls waiting for the bus into Oldham and thought, "Ha, when I was vicar here, you were nothing but eggs." On the way back I snapped the headless figures in a window of a bridal emporium and -as I turned away- was hailed by a tall, acned Jehovah's Witness. He told me that Jesus was the only way to eternal life. I told him- politely- that I disagreed.
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He came out of hospital yesterday. They've given him a nebulizer and adjusted his medication. I've really no idea how he is.
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They think they have to work their way into heaven by bludgeoning and shoving us heathens around, when they know all along that only 144,000 of us will get in, so what is their point?
I think we heathens should get some credit just for being kind (as you were polite) under pressure.
I tried being polite to Mormons once, even took their Bible to be nice.
Three weeks later (they gave me time to read it, I guess), more Mormons showed up at my door--this time a third one, to bring me into the fold.
As I understand it, Mormons think you can't get to Heaven if you are female unless you marry an elder and in fact marry the elder in their Salt Lake City home church. So, again, what was their point? Were they planning to fix me up with one of their young men on a bicycle? I doubt it very much. They knew I was doomed. Why waste a Bible on me?
I was polite (again) and handed them back their Bible, saying I was not interested. The third (new) Mormom got rather hostile (no points for him) and said (frowning): Why NOT?
I said, I'm just not. And I'm painting my kitchen, so goodbye. And I shut the door.
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When Dad was very ill after heart surgery, we were all huddled together in the intensive care waiting room, and a sweet little East Tennessee woman made her way over to us. She whispered: "Who is YOUR sick?" ...and waited for a Story.
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(Anonymous) 2009-06-17 09:51 pm (UTC)(link)Big hugs to Gramps Chadwick xxxxx
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XXX