Once Upon an Allegory: Mrs. Grundy and Nice Nelly

Once upon a time, on the very edge of an important town, there was a long row of houses. Vine Street was known as the "fashionable street" of the town, but the further Vine Street got from the town, the less fashionable it became. The houses at the beginning of the street were sparkling white, with very prim primroses in their window boxes, and a handyman who attended to the needs of the weeds and plumbing. He was a very remarkable handyman--all the residents agreed. His aptitude for re-shingling roofs was extraordinary, according to Mrs. Potts (head of the neighborhood association), but then again, nearly everything (from discounted eggs to a triple rainbow) was "extraordinary" to the enthusiastic Mrs. Potts. Regardless, the houses were well maintained, and everyone coveted a house at the "good" end of the street.

At the very end (the "bad" end) of this pretentious street, there were two houses. These houses had apparently given up all hope of ever becoming pretentious. They were trying, with all of their beings, just to remain upright. And they were doing a rather shoddy job of that.

"For Sale" signs stood hopefully in their front yards, and for months on end, Vine St. 211 and Vine St. 213 looked for new owners.

On the same day, the same hour, nay, the same minute, the houses were purchased by two, very different, owners. Such coincidences don't just happen in stories. They are just as likely to happen in your life. The problem with coincidences is that we label them as such. In this instance, we should side with the wonderful Mrs. Potts and label such instances "extraordinary." For all great coincidences are wonderfully extraordinary.

A lovely, vivacious lady (barely more than a girl, really) purchased house 211. She bounced her curly locks joyfully, and grinned in eager anticipation of becoming a home owner. (And on Vine Street, nonetheless!) Elenora VanderWitzerburg was the quintessential optimist. Her sunny disposition was legendary. So legendary, in fact, was her bubbly, I-could-care-less personality, that no one called her by the imposing handle of "Ms. VanderWitzerburg." She was known as "Nice Nelly" and her personality supported such a nickname. Nelly was staunchly determined to see the best in herself and in others, most especially in herself. When others would call her clothes "mismatched," Nelly labeled herself "artsy." When reprimanded by her mother for ignoring her grandmother's birthday, Nelly would cheerfully toss her curls, and remind her mother of all the times she had remembered Grandma's birthday. Caught in a lie, Nelly would be the first person to point out that she really rarely told a lie, and (after all), this lie was very creative and very small, and really, actually more clever than the truth. Yes, Nelly was a very happy individual. Very contented. And very sure of everyone's love... And she had reason to be. Nice Nelly, despite all her faults, was easy to love.

Mrs. Grundy, on the other hand, was not easy to love. I don't think that Mrs. Grundy's own mother even really loved Mrs. Grundy. Mrs. Grundy was the type of person who one "loved" out of a sense of duty. No one loved Mrs. Grundy on impulse. Routine was Mrs. Grundy's hobby. She was rigid about completing each task with painful punctuality. 7:13 a.m. every morning, Mrs. Grundy fed her cats. She patted each cat 3 times, and then sat down to read her paper. She always snapped the paper open briskly 3 times, and she never read the comics first. That would have been shear frivolity. Mrs. Grundy believed that in order to be a contributing citizen, one must stay up on one's current events. Mrs. Grundy never told a lie. Mrs. Grundy never mismatched her clothes. Mrs. Grundy kept a birthday calendar so that she never forgot anyone's birthday. To forget someone's birthday was a horrible offense. Every day, at the exact same time, Mrs. Grundy did the exact same thing. If, for any reason, Mrs. Grundy didn't follow her schedule perfectly, she inevitably took to bed for a week out of shock and depression. Her cats still remember the "2 snap" paper incident of 1997. When Mrs. Grundy forgot to snap the paper 3 times, she was bedridden for 13 and 1/2 days.

So these are the new owners of 211 and 213 Vine Street. And never have there been more terrible houses.

Nice Nelly's house had a horrible toilet that spit sewer gas at you, and a garbage disposal that wailed every time you turned it on. Her carpet was peeling up in great chunks, and the mold underneath was almost as fuzzy as the carpet had been. Her front yard was a jungle that most Amazonians would have coveted, and she was too scared to look in the attic. After what she found in the basement (drowned rats, my friends), she had no interest in exploring the attic.


Instead, forever cheerful, she hammered a window box on the front of her house and planted bright red flowers. Nelly's furnace growled each time she  turned it on, but she claimed that it just made her feel like she had a pet wolf, and she had always wanted a pet wolf. The pipes in the ceiling screamed every time she took a bath, so Nice Nelly declared that she liked showers instead. Mrs. Pott's came over and gave Nelly the number for the "Extraordinary Handyman," but Nelly laughed, tossed his number in the garbage and said, "Look at my lovely red flowers! If I could do that by myself, I doubt I need any handyman."

Mrs. Grundy's house was probably even worse. At least, that's the way that Mrs. Grundy saw it.

The linoleum in Mrs. Grundy's laundry room was a sickly shade of green from the constant over-flowing of the washing machine. Her house leaked so much in a rainstorm, that she stayed dryer on the back porch with an umbrella than she did in her bed. She tried to keep petting her cats 3 times a day, but the poor, terrified animals were so scared of the massive snake population that they rarely came out from under the couch.

 She looked at Nice Nelly's house, and sighed, "I'll never manage to clean up my house the way that she cleaned up her house!" But, knowing that she must try, Mrs. Grundy pulled out her hammer. With 3 sharp raps of the hammer, she fashioned a window box and planted some red flowers. Just as she was dropping the last flower into the box, Mrs. Potts came bustling by.

"My dear Mrs. Grundy! I have for you, the most delightful gift. Here's the number of our street's Extraordinary Handyman. He's simply amazing. A dream. A real catch."

Mrs. Grundy didn't even reach out for the card Mrs. Potts was offering. She buried her head in her hands and started sobbing, "Look at my window box! Look at it! It's horrible! It's nowhere near as good as Nelly's, and my house is a hole! No handyman would even want to set foot inside my house. I can't do this, I can't do this!"

And Mrs. Grundy took to her bed.

We must hope that it didn't rain while she was in there, or else the poor woman may have drowned.

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And now, for the moral of the story. No, don't run away. I know morals are a wee bit like vitamins, but with a story, hopefully I've made this a chewable vitamin with a yummy strawberry.

Are you a Nice Nelly or a Mrs. Grundy?

Both ladies moved onto Vine Street, into the family of God, they are living with Christ now, our "true vine." And this wonderful street is equipped with a Handyman who is really, truly extraordinary  and willing to help them with every improvement. For apart from our Handyman, "[we] can do nothing."

These women moved into equally terrifying houses, their response was quite different, although equally poor. Nice Nelly is what is known as a "happy moralist." Resting in her own abilities to aid in her "renovation" (i.e. Christian growth), she was very confident in the amazingness of her own abilities. After all, her window box was amazing, and who cares if there are bloated rats in the basement that she can't take care of? She refused the help of the "Extraordinary Handyman" because  she can do it on her own. She's pretty good.

Mrs. Grundy, on the other hand, knows that her house should be condemned, but rather than seeking help, she tries to tack on a window box, and then breaks down in tears because she knows that it's not helping her problems. She looks at her neighbor and assumes that she is far, far worse than Nice Nelly. She is known as a "sad moralist." She is also depending on her own strength for growth and change, but she knows that her efforts are failures. Rather than turning to the Handyman, she caves in and wallows in the nasty misery of her horrible house until she has enough energy to try to do it on her own again.

So, if you're a resident on Vine Street, which character would you  play? I'm afraid I'm a wee bit like Mrs. Grundy...

(John 15: 1-8)