Don’t kiss the kanga
It happened on a Wednesday on a leisurely drive from Halls Gap to Dunkeld. I wasn’t speeding and I had spent a languid time in the company of a priestly colleague.
All of sudden, out of nowhere a kanga kissed the left hand, the front side of the car. It made a resounding ‘thunk’ sound and I made sounds that were most unpriestly like.
After pulling over, the kanga was nowhere to be spied but what could be seen was the passion with which he/she had smooched the car. The left-hand front panel was a mangle, the left indicator was nonexistent and the left-hand headlight shone lower than its right-hand buddy.
Fortunately, the car’s engine was not hurt and I was able to get home and then onto a panel beater person.
I was also very fortunate to have another clerical colleague who organised a loan of another diocesan car for me until the other one is mended. Yes, that’s right folks it wasn’t a ‘write-off,' just damaged and fixable. An epic miracle when you consider what might have been.
A couple of things to draw out of this. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, stuff is going to find you and land on you from a whopping height. That’s just the way the universe works. It’s not if it happens, it’s when it happens and ultimately, and this is the really good bit, it’s how you roll with it. How you rationalise it and absorb it into your way of life.
Secondly, check out the brilliant pastoral care I received. It was prompt, and thoughtful and the first question everyone asked was ‘Are you alright?’ Sometimes, (not always) sometimes we get it right.
The tagline however remains. ‘Don’t kiss the kanga’