I’m pretty sure you all know the parable of The Good Samaritan. Regardless of whether you are Muslim, Christian or Jedi in belief, this life lesson is applicable to anyone. At least I think so.
It’s one of the stories I remember learning about at school (I went to a Catholic primary school and we had an ex-nun for a head teacher!). And, while I’m not a church-goer today, I feel like these little parables have really stuck with me.
The Good Samaritan basically tells this story:
was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by
robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away,
leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he travelled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He
went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he
put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of
him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii
and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I
return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.””
Now, apologies, I’m not going all evangelical on you. I have a point. I just take a while to get to my points because, you know, I don’t shut up.
If you read my blog yesterday, you will have seen a very indulgent “I want…” post. I was bored on my lunch break and dreaming of all the things I’d buy if I could stomach the guilt of spending money on myself and not baby boy. Oh, and if I were, you know, rich.
They weren’t frivolous by any means. But when you are the size of a barge, with swollen feet (and now hands – hello sausage fingers) and a waddle to rival Daffy Duck, the small treats matter. I feel very invaded right now and I don’t feel much like me. I desperately want to meet this human I’ve been growing and to also get my gro-bag of a body, back in some semblance of the old me.
You may have noticed a certain dress in this list. It was a gorgeous navy-coloured maxi, decorated with a simple butterfly print. Being of the thunder thigh type, maxi dresses were made for gals like me. I can hide my legs and show off my (hopefully still small after birth) waist and my boobs, which, I have to say, are lovely! I’m really nervous about how my body will look post-pregnancy and I know, when he’s in my arms, I won’t care straight away, at 24 years of age, I think the changes (whatever they might be) will bother me eventually.
But the dress. The Dress. I had my heart set on it. It may not be something of a designer standard (and boy do I not have the budget for that) but it just looks like it is made for me. A few people commented yesterday and said to go for it. My mum, who never encourages me to buy girly things, even said it would look lovely on me. So last night, in bed, I resolved to buy it today.
It appears The Dress was also The Dress for several other gals as well. As by 9am this morning sizes 14, 16 and 18 were sold out.
I actually whimpered. I felt like I’d been punched. No dress. No dress for Charlotte. Charlotte sad.
I took to Twitter, as I always do to vent frustration, and sounded my loss: “That heart-sinking moment when you love a dress, don’t buy it, and then the next day you decide to and it’s out of stock in your size.”
This moment was made worse by my hormones and by the fact that the Golden Syrup Weetabix, that I was sucked into buying (THANK YOU TV), were a massive let down. Why, you ask? Slightly sweet and no evidence of syrupy goodness.
But, then my Good Samaritan appeared.
I’m sure you know of her blog, but if you don’t, please follow her – Abi, of Champagne and Lemonade, tweeted me and shared my devastation and then offered to check her local store for me!
Now. While I can drive (passed seventh time – check me out), we only have one car and Ste has that for work. He also works for half of the weekend, so it’s not always easy for me to get out and about, especially at this size, with a bladder that needs emptying every five minutes. Our Dorothy Perkins here is the size of a cupboard and is tailored more to an older age range for some reason. I would never of been able to get this dress myself and her offer was so sweet that I felt my eyes go all watery!
She went and checked the store nearby to her. And there was a size 18 available. I was tempted and was ready to say yes when she asked the lady at that till if there were any in stock in the store just outside her town. Now, there’s doing someone a favour, and then there is going that extra mile.
Needless to say, there is a size 16 being lovingly looked after by a lovely friend of mine, who I met through blogging.
So, I hadn’t been robbed and stripped of my clothes (that would be awkward). and I didn’t need a nice man to put me up in an inn for several denarii either. But regardless of the fact that we may not have met, and we live at opposite ends of the country, someone took the time to make my day. And I can’t thank her enough.
When was the last time you made someones day? I’m on a mission to do the same.