The Word Cloud

With the exception of Royal weddings, rare sporting victories and random 'quirky' stories on a slow news day, the media in this country don't really go for the feel-good-great-news stories out there. They'd rather get their teeth into a  really juicy piece of misery, cooked medium rare and served with a side of more misery.

This morning was a perfect example. I forget the exact order/content of the headlines but it went something like this: Headline 1, debt misery in the US; Headline 2, NHS misery in the UK; Headline 3, general misery in the world...you get the idea...then tucked away right at the end of the bulletin where 'quirky' stories usually get their 15 seconds of fame (if everybody hasn't already tuned out) was this:

"Miracle escape as plane splits in two"

The story, for anyone who missed it (you only had to blink), was about a Caribbean Airlines plane flying from New York to Guyana. On landing, it overshot the runway, crashed through a chainlink fence and came to a stop 200ft before a ravine. Then, just as the passengers thought the ordeal was over and they were safe, the plane split in two. But despite the damage, all 163 passengers and crew survived the ordeal. Injuries were few and minor. A miracle when you see the images of the damaged plane.

Now surely that's a story to shout about, not bury under a pile of misery?

Huzzah! My skill for titles has come back, (in my opinion anyway).
I have a fascinating story to tell you all, about something that happened to me earlier on today.

Well.

There I was. 

I volunteer with the Cinnamon Trust every week, walking dogs for those who can't walk them that often themselves and this particular week I was off gallavanting with Queenie a little jack russel along the woods, when me and my mum walked up to a Catholic Church.

We had both driven past it many times before and knew it was there, but we had never had the chance to walk up to it.

Anyway, I am probably the most religious out of my family. I believe in a God (my own God) and that there is life after death, but I don't quite buy into the Catholic ideas of hellfire, damnation and being given forgiveness by talking in a booth.

So we sat on a bench beside the Church and started talking about how crap things were. People had died, problems had been caused both inside and out of the family, and we were both pretty hacked off. My mother has a very good perception of life, and despite being kicked in the face when she's down, she always hopes for better.

So we are talking about God and she suddenly says something along the lines of: "please just show us what to do. Help us." Thinking nothing of it after that we both trundled back to return the woofta and headed to the library I am temporarily transferred to at work, to get me a new library card because I had lost my other one, but I digress.

After that we went to the village to get some vegetables for soup, when there's a notice on the window of the pharmacy for a job. I cannot tell you the number of times my mother has told me she would love to work there. So we grab an application and then went home.
The first miracle.

Halfway through helping her with making soup, I get a phonecall on my mobile.

It was a woman telling me I had been shortlisted for an Apprenticeship program, which in my gap year would be incredible.

So there I am bouncing up and down, when I realise: two miracles in one day. After three years of shit, it's made a stronger believer out of me. Or perhaps I only believe in God because it's wishful thinking, either way I owe Him one.