Turning The Tables

My late father-in-law, at 80 odd, an imposing figure with a Moses-like mane of white hair, instructed us all to hold hands while he gave thanks for the meal that was about to be served us in the crowded seaside restaurant.
He had a loud voice anyway (being quite deaf) and a special voice for spiritual matters that seemed to make it even louder.
So we had more than a few interested observers at neighbouring tables.

With eyes tight shut, he prayed with great fervour, telling God how grateful he was for the good food he was about to receive, and asking for blessing upon it.
While this was going on, the respectful waiter slipped plates of delicious looking food in front of each of us.
On opening his eyes after the resounding "Amen!"my father-in-law exploded (also loudly),
"What is this mess?!"
"I can't eat this rubbish!"
"Take it away!"
(Or, for Saffers, (its SO much better in his native Afrikaans)
"Wat is die gemors!?"
"Ek kannie die gemors eet nie!"
"Vat dit weg!"

Yes, it was horribly rude
But we were so overcome by the humour of it that we just collapsed in puddles of helpless laughter
And have retold the story quite a few times.

This happened years ago
But only yesterday did I realise the beam in my own embarrassed eye
SO much bigger than my FIL's speck

How often do I thank God for the new day and ask for His blessing
And how many times during that same day do I complain, whinge and criticise?
About weather, politics, referees, traffic, services - the list is endless
How is that different from my FIL, I ask myself?
I answer myself -
"Not at all -
Except mine is on a much grander scale."

Will I be different after having seen this?
In a week, will I even remember that I saw it?
Maybe
I hope so
Time will tell . . .