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I have a burning need to know stuff and I love asking awkward questions.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

For the Want of a Sixpence…


My Mother told me this story today and I thought it was so cool and (possibly) explained an important factor in why I am what I am that I couldn’t help sharing it with you – not that I’m usually known for getting all personal here. Anyway:


The story concerns my maternal Grandmother. During WW2 my Grandfather was in the Army fighting somewhere in North Africa and Europe. Gran, left at home to bring up their 7 daughters, was fully dependent on the portion of his Army pay sent to her on a weekly basis. But, as they tend to do from time to time, things went wrong (after all there was a war on) and a payment was delayed. Frantic and at her whit’s end she asked a visiting Catholic priest for a loan of a sixpence to tied her over until her husbands payment arrived. The priest, rather surprisingly, declined to lend her any money. Luckily the delayed Army pay arrived the next day and Gran managed to feed her 7 children.


But from that day, until over 30 years later, Gran never stepped inside another church. Because of the priests lack of basic Christian charity my Mother was not brought up in the Catholic faith and because of that neither I, nor my siblings, had any contact with the Church. Because of that single incident none of my sister’s children have been baptised. It’s amazing to think that because of a sixpence three generations of my family have become either indifferent or antagonistic towards religion.


I couldn’t help wondering about what might have happened if the priest had actually had some Christian charity and lent my Gran the money. She would’ve continued going to Church and would probably have brought up my Mother as a practicing Catholic which would probably have meant that her children (including me) would have been practicing Catholics too…. Which is all a little TOO scary to think about…. And all because of the want of a sixpence 15+ years before I was even born.


Spooky the hand of ‘fate’ isn’t it?

7 comments:

craziequeen said...

You know - that explains a lot :-)
and it's a really good story too...

For want of a sixpence.....makes you think......

cq

JR said...

Cool story! I think situations like this happen more often than we realize. That ripple effect goes a long way. I have many instances in my own life when my attitude was altered by another person's actions and to this day behave differently because of what I experienced. Makes you stop and think about your own actions and the lasting impact they might be having.

CyberKitten said...

V V said: Makes you stop and think about your own actions and the lasting impact they might be having.

Indeed. We affect many more people than we can ever imagine. Reminds me of that Ray Bradbury time-travel story with the butterfly...

Aginoth said...

And if that isn't the basis for a book then I don't know what is...

Go for it CK

"For the sake of a Sixpence" is a great book title too...

greatwhitebear said...

I agree with aginoth...geat story and great book title

Random said...

I have no desire to diss anybody's gran, but did she never stop and think the priest may have been out of money himself, prayed for assistance for her instead, and that was why the back pay arrived the following day?

I have to say that as arguments for the nonexistence of God go, this one is pretty unconvincing. I thought you'd studied the issue in depth and arrived at atheism as the most logical option, not merely continued a habit inherited from childhood like, erm, us Christians.

CyberKitten said...

Erm... Random....

I'd hardly call that story an "argument for the non-existence of God". It was an illustration of a possible explanation of why I'm not a practicing Roman Catholic. My Grandmother turned her back on the Church because of an example of a priests lack of basic charity. I don't know the exact details and neither did my Mother.

The 'habit' of non-church going gave me the space to come to my own conclusions before I was indoctrinated into any particular faith. I actually remember begging my Father on many ocassions to take me to Church on Sundays because I loved the atmoshphere so much. I still love religious art and architecture, visting churches all over the world whenever I have the opportunity.

My atheism can hardly be called a 'habit'.