Those who willingly subject themselves to God are progressively being created in spirit while living in a physical body.

By contrast, the ultimate goal and destiny for most of the men in our street was to become a collier. But while carrying out the same functions as the animal kingdom: eating, drinking, and indulgences of the body, they refused to begin to be created spiritually. Indeed, although the delicate emotions we experience are gifts from God, they are never acknowledged as such by most men.

Consequently, they cannot inherit the everlasting spirit life that God has promised because they have neglected "the day of small things"     the opportunity that our Creator Almighty God has offered to all mankind that they may acquire the spiritual qualities required to live in an incorruptible spirit paradise. Sadly, they are spiritually dead without a new spirit "birth". The beginning of one's life is when one learns and carries out the Will of God. But to live merely according to one's own will is a living death, and is why there is an "appointed time for the dead to be judged". ⁽⁶⁾

Some days, we'd go around the street knocking on doors of young and old alike for a kick about. In a disused foundry nearby there was a dirt patch. On weekends, some of the more adventurous women would join in for a laugh. But when proper togs and boots were put on, we knew it was going to be a men-only treat. Then we would sit and watch. The game would last for the remainder of that day, stopping only for meals. On such occasions, before Sunday tea, I'd sneak home unnoticed.

Mam would literally fill our larder shelves with her cooking on Sundays. I developed a healthy appetite from an early age, or so my mother boasted, catching my eye with a threatening glance. By  the age of nine my appetite was insatiable, though the war did put a damper on my favourite indulgences. Waiting for Sunday tea always put a great strain on my resolve. Consequently, I acquired the knack of wedging the larder door to an almost closed state from the inside. After we returned from the first half of the game, I'd enter the larder and pick around the edges of Mam's pastries, until my aroused digestive juices tempted me to be bolder still. And while ploughing through a trifle of fruit and jelly, I heard a click, followed by the clunk of the door bolt.

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