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We all know the story which, and I checked, has been translated into 12 languages. Give or take a few. I’m sure it’s more. For those of us who have forgotten, or those of us who sadly never had the story read to us, here goes my short version.

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs. Mama told them it was time to leave home so off they went. Being of an independent streak, they didn’t want to set up house together so,

Piggy One built himself a house with straw;

Piggy Two built himself a house with sticks;

Piggy Three built himself a house with bricks.

The BBW (Big Bad Wolf) came and huffed and puffed and POOF went Piggy One’s house. Said piggy hightailed it to Piggy Two who conveniently lived next door. The BBW repeated the huffing and puffing with similar success (it took a few extra huffs and puffs) and POOF-POOF went Piggy Two’s house.

Squealing in the Key of C Sharp and hitting top A at the same time, they hoofed it over to Piggy Three’s house and nearly didn’t make it through the door as they were rather portly (being piggies) and were trying to get through the door at the same time. Piggy Three leaned forward, grabbed them by the hair on their chinny chin chins, yanked them to safety and slammed the door in the BBW’s face. It was a close call, obvious by the altered shape of the BBW’s snoz.

Wolfie (BBW) huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and huffed-huffed and puffed-puffed but the brick house didn’t even wobble, let well alone go POOF.

The BBW gave up and left. However, there is a version of the story where the BBW climbed onto the roof, fell down the chimney where Piggies X 3 had placed a nice big cauldron of boiling water. And they cooked the BBW and ate him. Ehhh…

Anyone wanting to read a professional version of the story –

I had this silly moment when I envisaged the third little pig triumphantly hoisting the flag of the country where the story was being read. Well, yes, that’s my tumble dryer mind. But back to my little pigs and the moral of the story.

Build your life on, and with, something solid that no one can take away from you. You can lose everything, think of poor old Job (and that’s another story) but no one can take away your basic beliefs.

Someone equated having faith to a feeble infirm, injured person using a crutch. I believe it was meant in a derogatory fashion but I rather like the image as yes, to me, that’s exactly what it is. I’m not a strong person physically. Too many years of living the “high” life; too many years of playing hard, on the sports field and off it; too many years of “no pain, no gain”; too many years of pushing an aging body beyond its limits, all of these have taken its toll. Dem chickens came home to roost with a vengeance!

But mentally? On the plane that really matters? If my faith is my crutch, so be it. I know what I believe; I know my core values; I know where I’ve been; I know where I’m going. And out of nowhere came a refrain, in Afrikaans, “met U loop ek ‘n bende storm; met my God spring ek oor ‘n muur.” Five Bible translations later I found one that sounded similar in the NABRE (New American Bible Revised Edition). “With You I can rush an armed band; with my God to help I can leap a wall.” (2 Sam 22:30)

In the Sermon on The Mount Jesus said: “Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain descended, the floods, came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall for it was founded on rock.” (Matt 7:24-25)

And those who do not listen? Read Matt. 7:26-27 To me it sounds awfully like the piggies that were too lazy to build their houses of brick.

My story ends with the BBW (aka my former life) going down the chimney and into that big old cauldron of boiling water. Fini! And Piggy Three who hoisted a country flag in celebration of being safe and saved? I’m right up there with him, raising my flag in celebration of being safe and saved, I hoisted –

The Cross.


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