Mother's Day, but not really

Colombia has a semi-militaristic feel about it: Arrows tell you which way to go up stairs; motorcyclists wear their bike registration number in large letters on the front of their jacket, on the back, on the helmet, on the bike and it appears three times more on their passenger; and I was asked for an ID number when I bought Olwen a blouse.

If you go to the pictures your ticket is for a particular seat; and a girl shows everyone to the right one. No sitting in E13 if you're an F13 even if the place is empty.

Last Saturday we were accurately seated in F13 and F14, and the show started. It struck us as being an unusual beginning with people standing on their heads, but then this was a Woody Allen redo of a Hitchock suspense. Then people's feet were at the top of the screen, their heads at the bottom and a big black line separated the two. At this point the girl directing the E13s of this world looked worried, talked into a walkie-talkie and then rushed out of the hall.

When you live by rules, for some reason the gap between order and chaos is small. At the start of the semester we were given a CD of hundreds of seminary regulations. Yet indiscipline is our biggest classroom problem.

Next Sunday it's Mother's Day. This is when there are a particularly high number of murders in the country as families get together. Pray for Colombia.

And give thanks that now you see more people going about holding Bibles than you would in Scotland.

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