Christian Aid Legends: The Bun Queen
So, my mum’s a pretty spectacular human being.
For one, she gave birth to me. Major kudos mum! I’ve seen ‘One Born Every Minute’ and I ended up on the kitchen floor.
Secondly, and more to the point, she’s a real people person. I mean a real, genuine, bona fide people person. It’s a trait I haven’t inherited to anywhere near an acceptable degree in light of our shared DNA but it’s the part of her which I admire the most.
When she’s not working 12 hours a day as a practice nurse, patching up the nations battered and bewildered, she’s hopping in the car and driving the four hour round journey to take care of my elderly grandparents. When she’s done doing their weekly shop she’s out on the streets of our biggest cities, peeling drunken young people off the streets, ensuring they get home safely in her role as a Street Pastor. When that’s done she heads home to listen to my dad moan about missing jigsaw pieces, even finding the time to sound like she cares (I think she actually does).
And when she’s finished running this gauntlet for six days a week she heads to church, volunteering to clean, cook and offer pastoral support to countless friends and acquaintances with a varying degree of needs.
She’s just amazing!
Each May, she cracks out her apron and makes in the region of 2000 buns for Christian Aid Week. Yes, never content with her unending, crushing schedule of 24/7 availability, she’s baking food to sell at humble church fetes to raise money for the poorest people on earth.
And that’s why she’s a spectacular, illogical wonder of life.
My mum is a Christian Aid Legend. Not because she devotes her every waking minute to being available to people, but because she understands the bigger picture. That changing the world happens one small act at a time - day by day.
Maybe it’s a gesture, a look, a simple recognition of others? Or an ability to observe the mess of the world and to understand that love is the only practical response?
Heroes don’t wear capes, they don aprons.