The Holey Woman

… I was born with holes, loads of them, I don’t know why, but that was how my maker created me. I went through life seeking to have my holes filled. I pluged all kind of stuff in to try and fill the holes, but they were never the right size. They filled the gaps somewhat, but what a poor fit! Square pegs in round holes, they scratched and grated and in the end had to be painfully removed, in the process creating more holes and making the existing ones larger.

I met a few self proclaimed hole fillers, but they were far from it, very much so, the sight of my holes terrified and confused them, they fainted like an inexperienced expectant first time father in the delivery ward. Time did not turn them into the needed hole filler rather they became excavator and made more holes. I became more holey and pained, going from one quack hole filler to another, suffering non stop in the hands of the imposters. Whether the imposters knew or not that they were not cut out for the role is unclear, but they sure created a lot of mess. They was no remorse whatsoever, like the builder from hell, they destroyed the house and with the arrogance and ignorance of the rascal they moved on to the next unsuspecting person. They had no equipment, no tools, no skills, no calling, no passion, no insight, no interest, no capabilities, no love! Yes, no love for the job. It is a job afterall. They hated holes, couldn’t stand the sight of holes, didn’t understand holes, didn’t want to know or learn, yet they put themselves forward as holes filler. Why? Some for filthy lucre, some for lack of direction, some to join the joneses, others were just simply clueless, fumbling along in the dark with the clumsiness of an Armadillo. Most should be locked up for the damage caused.

Then came the day, he turned up unannounced, unpromising looking with his pouring can in his hands. Nothing in his appearance to make us consider him, yet he was the one. Like a seasoned road worker, he was equipped for the role. His calling was to repair broken road, to fill pot holes, to mark territories, etc . With the skillset of a veteran craftsman, he set about filling my holes. With love, care, kindness and tenderness he tackled the road. He filled the potholes, cracks and surfaces, he leveled, tarred and marked it and created a smooth marked road for all to travel on.

All that travel my road commented on what a level road it was and how smooth there journey was. I told them I was once very holey, but the hole filler, the road worker came and fill my holes.

Blessed by the hole filler, the road worker!