10 - I Cannot Be Upset By A Fact

As Jesus said, we cannot be upset by a fact.

We are currently living in a rent free cottage, on a 2½- acre property, surrounded by trees (woods) which are surrounded by two golf courses in one of the most expensive parts of Britain - none of the houses here are valued at less than £2 million pounds. To many people, that sounds idyllic. Well, two days ago we were told that we had to move on as the owner has financial problems and she needs to rent the cottage out to generate some income.

The fact is that we must move and the other fact is that we had decided to move anyway - to Oxford, hopefully. Anyway, to the first fact - the part that could sound scary is the fear of what next … Where will we live? Can I find a job? Can I find a job that's both enjoyable and pays enough to keep us in the style we'd like to become accustomed to? It's a credit crunch and I'm a foreigner so will I get a job? On and on my monkey mind would chatter if I let it.

Interestingly, at the exact moment that we were being told that we must move on, I received an email from a university in Oxford, asking me to come up for a job interview!

So, again, there is a fact - tomorrow I am having a job interview. But just imagine what my monkey mind does with that fact. Yee hah! Back to teaching which I love. It's an international university so I'll probably be able to travel. It's good money and long holidays so we'll see lots of Europe … and on and on the crazy man inside chatters on, weaving beautiful fantasies of what could be … if I let him.

There is nothing to be afraid of except that which we weave within our tiny scull-spaces. There is nothing to be excited about except that which we weave within our tiny scull-spaces. In fact, there would be no arguments, war or pain if all we dealt with were facts … The Truth. If we simply sat with the facts of our lives, rather than flying off on the wondrous fantasies we weave, we would have nothing but the abiding and unconquerable peace of God. After all, isn't that what we're all looking for?

So, what are the facts of Arthur Bayly's story - continued from previous blogs ...

Amanda was around at their place in fifteen minutes, in civilian clothes. Arthur and Joan had another cup of tea and Amanda cradled an instant coffee, without enthusiasm. She listened to their story.

"Have your coffee before it gets cold," said Joan.

"Oh, ah, yes, I don't usually drink instant," said Amanda, looking embarrassed. She sipped at her coffee with little obvious relish.

There was a thump at the front door and Arthur leapt up and returned with the evening paper. At the bottom of the front page was a photo of the woman and her child. He read the story out and it was mainly the woman's point of view. He was surprised that she considered him a hero and wanted to thank him, if she could contact him to do so. Arthur felt quite uncomfortable. Joan leapt up and took the paper from him.

"Who's that behind her in the photo, Arthur?" asked Joan.

"No one ... oh, gosh, it's blurry but it could be that young man, the one who gave me my keys," said Arthur, wondering if it was really such fun being 007.

"Who took your keys from you in the first place," said Joan firmly.

"Yes, maybe he did ..." said Arthur.

"Look, it's not a good photo but it's something to go on," said Amanda, standing to leave. "I'll get another paper and start some inquiries."

"But we've got you from your home - why don't you stay for tea?" asked Joan.

"What, and deprive me of my reheated, malnourished, microwaved chicken and spud?" said Amanda, laughing as she ran her hands through her golden curls. "That would be lovely, thanks."

As they sat down to dinner, some time later, Joan insisted on saying grace.

"OK, help yourself to this," said Joan, pushing bowls of steaming food towards Amanda. "We don't usually say grace but I just wanted to thank my mother for her help. Maybe she can help us more from where she is now."

"Probably not yet," suggested Amanda. "Wait three days."

"Three days?" asked Joan.

"Well, most indigenous people think that it takes three days after death for spirit to assert itself," said Amanda.

"Assert itself?" asked Arthur, wondering how a perfectly ordinary English supper had so quickly turned into a ... a, um, talk on death and all that odd stuff.

"Yes, sort of get itself together," said Amanda. "Most of them believe that when we die, our spirit is given three days to decide whether it wants to stay in spirit or to return to earth. What a study in America found was that twenty five percent of bodies in morgues actually came back to life within three days."

"Oh my God, do they really?" asked Arthur, unable to continue spooning out peas from the bowl.

"Yes, it seems there's a sort of waiting period while we're given a choice about coming back or not and we can do so within those three days, even defying medical science," said Amanda.

"What a lovely subject for supper," said Joan, chuckling.

"Oh sorry," said Amanda, blushing.

"Oh, no, go on, this is fascinating," said Joan. "I want to know what happens."

"Well, I don't know that. I don't think anybody really does," said Amanda, warming to her subject. "But this three day wake up thing is why most traditions wait at least three days and why they have the body at home in an open casket - it allows the body to wake up and get up. Hiding a body in a drawer in a mortuary goes against all that."

"Oh, my gosh, I hadn't thought of that!" said Joan, gravy jug poised in mid-air. "Do you think we should have my mother at home with us, Arthur?"

"Oomph," said Arthur, surprised at such a question while his mouth was full of mashed potato.

"Look, I wasn't actually suggesting anything like that," said Amanda, smiling at Joan and probably wondering how long the gravy jug would remain suspended above Joan's food. "Did you want some gravy?"

"Oh, yes, sorry!" said Joan, pouring her gravy and passing it to Amanda.

"All I was suggesting, based on the indigenous people I've worked with, is that you may not get any help from your mother for at least three days."

"Looks like we're on our own, dear," said Arthur, relieved at the turn of conversation.

"On our own ... I don't think we're ever on our own, Arthur" said Joan, smiling. A worrying little spider began crawling about in Arthur's tummy - the conversation seemed to have turned itself back to the dark and shadowy places he did not want to venture into.

"You're right," said Amanda and Arthur studied his steak rather intently, hoping not to be noticed ... hoping it would all go away if he pretended he couldn't hear. "Even in my darkest of times, there was always help when I asked. I just had to want to listen."

"You mean you've had spirit speak to you, do things for you?" asked Joan with peas and steak on fork, aloft.

"I don't know if I'd call it spirit as I don't know what it was," said Amanda, trying to explain the unexplainable. "But I do know that when I've been in an impossible position, when I've needed help or answers, when I've stopped to listen, the impossible seemed to happen."

"What, like miracles?" asked Joan who realised her fork had not yet reached her mouth, then swallowed said peas and steak.

"Like I said, I can't put labels to these things - like spirit or miracle - but things just seem to happen, people seem to turn up unexpectedly, and you're set back on the path again," said Amanda. "Hey, this is the best meal I've had for ages, thanks, and these squishy peas are yummy!" She tucked in enthusiastically.

"Squishy peas? Oh you mean the mushy peas!" said Arthur, chuckling and relieved to be on solid ground again. "That's an English delicacy. We're very proud of our mushy peas. Without them we wouldn't have conquered the world, created the Empire or won the war ..."

"Arthur, you're being quite silly. I don't know what's got into you!" said Joan, smiling while shaking more salt over her potatoes and brussell sprouts. "But I want to know about all this help Amanda's talking about. Go on."

Arthur settled back to his dinner a little mollified to think that things like spirits and miracles had not been dispensed with yet. Like a gazelle at the water hole, he remained alert.

"Well, after my really dark time, when I started to come out of it ... did Arthur tell you?" asked Amanda.

"Yes, he told me a little of it," said Joan.

"So, I decided I needed a job but not one that was too taxing - my mind was a bit, you know, fragile," said Amanda. "So I ended up going for an interview at a government department, doing office work."

"And, by a miracle, you ended up here!" said Joan laughing.

"Well, sort of, but it took several interventions, shall we say," said Amanda. "I went to the interview and the office at that address was shut and so I went next door to the police station to ask where they'd moved to, met up with a friend I hadn't seen for ten years, had lunch with her and ended up joining the police!"

"So you ended up working for a government department!" said Arthur, deciding it was safe to join in again.

"Huh! I'd never thought of that!" said Amanda, helping herself to more boiled potatoes from the bowl. "Then, two years later ... I suppose you want to hear the end of this boring story?"

"It's not boring at all, Amanda," said Joan. "Go on!"

"I usually do - go on that is!" said Amanda. "So, after two years I found out about this exchange programme with Britain and I had always wanted to travel and, well, because I'd helped in a case in the Coromandel - a relatively remote part of New Zealand - where there'd been smuggling of drugs and other things going on and there'd seemed to be links with England, Scotland and America and it had seemed to have something to do with insurance scams - I'd worked in insurance before ..."

"You worked in insurance?" asked Arthur. "That's where I've always worked!"

"Who do you work for?" asked Amanda, about to spear a potato and stopping suddenly.

"I work for AIL," said Arthur, "up in London"
"AIL? Oh my God!" exclaimed Amanda, going quite red.

"Well, as I told you earlier, I don't work there any more, as of today," said Arthur, hoping to stop that creeping spider in his stomach from starting up again. Amanda's reaction did not help.

"Of course, of course, you're not there any more, are you," said Amanda in a vain attempt to act flippant.

"Is AIL involved in any of this?" asked Joan, asking the question Arthur wanted to but couldn't.