Saturdays were my favorite day as a child. It meant time spent with my mom, or dad, or both, usually shopping for groceries, buying the latest Nancy Drew volume and, eventually, grabbing a bite to eat at the local diner.

Looking back, I realize how much of my time with them was filled with lessons, not only taught on-purpose, but caught from listening to their spirited conversations.

As with most couples, there were lots of stories about people they knew – relatives, friends and co-workers. Sentences often began with “Did you know….” or “Can you believe…” or “It’s a shame …,” especially when the topic was a lost job or a failed marriage. My father rarely said anything that smacked of passing judgment, but occasionally, and not unexpectedly for an Irishman, he was known to make one of two pronouncements – he’s “a good man” or he’s “an old fool.”

For the good man, the bottom line was always a heart that meant well, in spite of shortcomings and mistakes. The old fool, on the other hand, took his missteps on the road of life by failing to see the good, and in the omission, leaving the gift of gratitude unopened. The good man, in most moments, was focused on others; the old fool, on himself.

Undoubtedly, we have all been, or will be, the old fool at one point or another, differing only by degrees.  The danger lies in foolishness that becomes a habit, a way of life that destroys our willingness to seek forgiveness for what we have done, or, what we have failed to do – or even admit to ourselves that we have fallen short of our responsibilities and promises to God.

Perhaps no one in Scripture was more a fool than Jonah, who found out the hard way the folly of running from God. Not only did Jonah attempt to flee from God’s request, he was confident enough in his decision to sleep soundly in the hold of the ship while the waters raged around him.  Even his Phoenician shipmates had insight enough to know that running from God has consequences, so, to protect themselves, they threw a once cocky Jonah overboard and then prayed for mercy.

God was merciful, not only to them but to Jonah as well, giving him a place to reflect and recollect his senses for a few days – in the belly of a big fish. This was a well-timed crisis for Jonah, the reluctant prophet, one with the potential of a turning point; an experience common to us all, but not always so fruitful.

Interestingly, the Hebrew word for crisis, mashber, means the moment of birth. It is both a promising and challenging perspective to see new life in the most frightening or painful of experiences, but Jonah’s prayer from inside the fish shows his heart moving in the right direction. He recounts his descent to the deep, the teeming, swirling waters pushing him down to the ocean floor, his head wrapped in seaweed, his soul fainting in fear, until the God of mercy rescues him in a wondrous way. He acknowledges, “Those who worship vain idols forsake their source of mercy. But I, with resounding praise, will sacrifice to you: What I have vowed I will pay: deliverance is from the Lord.”

And the fish spat Jonah up on the shore … where he would soon forget his earlier predicament, confront God in anger and be afflicted with yet another lesson, this one on selfishness.

It seems foolishness is a hard habit to break.

Mary Morrell serves as managing editor of The Monitor. Readers may access her newest blog, Things My Mother Taught Me, at Trentonmonitor.com>Commentary>blogs.