Well, it's on! I've signed up for the challenge. Why? Because there is always room for improvement and accountability is what I need. Pre Challenge #1 is done and ready for the next...
Monday, August 27, 2012
Organised Housewife Challenge
Well, it's on! I've signed up for the challenge. Why? Because there is always room for improvement and accountability is what I need. Pre Challenge #1 is done and ready for the next...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Photo Day
I spent the second Tuesday of the school holidays on a photographic expedition. Yes an entire day spent taking photos. My co-conspirator and I drove to the Rose garden at Tanunda and spent a crisp autumn morning snapping to our hearts content. A picnic lunch in the park and a coffee and dessert from the bakery rounded off a memorable day of flowers, friends, conversation and clic!
Two things that struck me most ...
1. No one was hurrying us on or rushing off to the next spot...
2. Bees don't sit still...
PS. Can you see the feet?
January
So here I am - January 31! The first, whole month of the Year of Our Lord 2012 has come and ever so quickly, gone.
I love January. It holds promise and plans, renewal and for me a revisiting. A getting ready for the year ahead after the beauty of Christmas; and the manic rush it sometimes accumulates.
I hate January. It holds many hurtful anniversaries, the passing of no less than 4 dear friends and family members. As I plan the future I am well aware that I have no control over the events of this life; or the next. As I think of how unpredictable this life is I am faced with the truth that in some cases each anniversary means another year alone for someone I love.
I love January. We celebrate our wedding Anniversary (OK so my poor typing originally spelled that "weeding") This year it was a bit that way. A weeding out of some marriage destroying habits that had crept into our garden. Interesting how my Bible readings for the month of January were in Song of Solomon and most of January my darling has been working away. A good time to focus on some gardening of the heart. Our celebrations include my Parent's Anniversary, my Mother's birthday and Australia Day.
Summer holidays have been extra hot, strangely disjointed and over too soon. Beaches, friends, fireworks, an amazing iced chocolate!The year ahead holds much in store but so much of it is hidden. My comfort is that it is hidden in His hands.
The regular events of my week have all too soon come in to play and each adventure is begining.
Our MOPS group is one week away so planning is all go. I can't wait to see who will be a part of this years group and how God willl work in this part of their lives.
Country Chic's foray into the world of craft markets has started and I look forward to seeing if this is a place that God has for me.
.The adventure of a "Whole Foods" online course is making me tingle with anticipation; food, cooking and a deepening friendship. Sharing with the other participants from around the globe at http://beautythatmoves.typepad.com/ sounds like too much fun.The challenge of completing an endurance ride this year on my sweet Megs is something from my "bucket list".
The dream of visiting family in America is now more of a tentative plan, than a dream and that in itself is a miracle.
The unfolding of Number 1 son's future is slowly taking shape as I face the next stage of my mothering journey.
And in between the many tasks and adventures I have begun the challenge of being grateful. No small ask for a habitual "glass half empty" kinda girl. http://www.aholyexperience.com/ Ann Voskamp's 1000 Gifts is inspirational and I challenge you to check it out Monday, January 2, 2012
2012...
Reflection... As I look back on 2011 with a sense of completion, I am once again amazed at the speed at which a year can pass.The blurr of experiences and emotions that are contained in a day, a month, a year! The mundane and routine of home chores and regular activities that string together like bunting, interrupted by joys and tradgedies of the unexpected, hoped for, even dreaded.
This year I have hoped, prayed, regretted, given up; I have smiled, belly laughed, been wracked with sobs that shake my foundations; I have been asked to toughen up, let go, swallow my pride; I have been uncertain, afraid, angry and bewildered and yet...in it all... a sense, a certainty, an intimate "knowing", that all, all, ALL! is held in God's mighty hands.
That which I don't understand, that I fear, even that which I think I have under control... it is His!
What comfort, what peace is found in Him, in trusting His purposes, in being loved by God.
2012... So I face this coming year in the maturity of knowing it will hold much of the same. Undoubtably these familiar lessons will come again, clothed in new experiences. I will be again asked to grow and change and love and forgive. I will suffer hurt and take deep breaths of joy. This year has the promise of learning to let go, the discipline of exchanging monotony for deeper roots, the aquiring of new skills and new relationships, the risks of new experiences.
a new camera in the same house
the boys and their volleyball
Megs & Sock,
R's Formal
J's great year at school
Year 12 results
Christmas... the only time of year my toes are red!
Christmas lights,
This year I have hoped, prayed, regretted, given up; I have smiled, belly laughed, been wracked with sobs that shake my foundations; I have been asked to toughen up, let go, swallow my pride; I have been uncertain, afraid, angry and bewildered and yet...in it all... a sense, a certainty, an intimate "knowing", that all, all, ALL! is held in God's mighty hands.
That which I don't understand, that I fear, even that which I think I have under control... it is His!
What comfort, what peace is found in Him, in trusting His purposes, in being loved by God.
2012... So I face this coming year in the maturity of knowing it will hold much of the same. Undoubtably these familiar lessons will come again, clothed in new experiences. I will be again asked to grow and change and love and forgive. I will suffer hurt and take deep breaths of joy. This year has the promise of learning to let go, the discipline of exchanging monotony for deeper roots, the aquiring of new skills and new relationships, the risks of new experiences.
a new camera in the same house
the boys and their volleyball
Megs & Sock,
R's Formal
Chai and my ball of string...
Quirky craft,
Olive picking,
a "normal" week,
- One day in and loving 2012!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Hmmm.
Ok...it just hit me! ... if you want something to work or start.. just double click on the little thingy (I know it has some nerdy name, but you know what I'm talking about.) Today I noticed that mine is the shape of a little hand with the index finger pointing up!! Revolutionary...NO, remindingly SO!! If things aren't working out look UP! Change your perspective! I've got to remember to LOOK UP, to rest in the fact that God is the one in control...move my life-mouse to His plan, double click on that and wait for Him to take me to the next screen.
That is all.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A New Fairy Tale
Ella Sweet and Strong
Or the thinking women’s version of the Cinderella story
Once upon a time there lived a sweet girl. Her mother and father were still very much in love. Her father was an important man, a noble man a friend of the king. Her mother beautiful and wise and both of them loved Ella very much. They lived happily together as a family should.
As often happens in a fairy tale, tragedy struck. Ella’s mother became ill and no matter what the doctors tried, it failed. A tearful goodbye was held as Ella’s mother passed to heaven. Her father burdened by his tragedy was never again as happy as those first years but he still loved Ella as his pride and joy. He told her often “You are my precious child and I will always be there for you.”
By Ella’s 7th birthday her father had married again. His new wife seemed a reasonable woman and it was a perfectly adequate arrangement. To Ella’s family was added a step mother and two older stepsisters. While her father loved his new wife and daughters, it seemed obvious; to them anyway, that he loved Ella more than they. He provided for their needs and loved them as a father should but they couldn’t stand it when they heard him tell Ella that she was his precious child and that he would always be there for her.
On Ella’s 12th birthday the unthinkable happened. Her father never returned from one of his many journeys on the kings business. Poor Ella! Her life was forever changed. Her step mother, hurt from her own loss began to take out her hurt on Ella. Instead of enjoying the same privileges as her own daughters Ella was treated as a servant. She was made to fetch and carry for her sisters who by this time had reached that age where they demanded everything and cared for nothing. Ella scrubbed the floors of HER family home, she cooked to feed those that treated her badly, she set the fires to keep them warm while she was shut away in her cold damp room with only their leftovers to fill her stomach.
About here, we as women, wait for the tide to turn, for the handsome prince on his white horse to rescue us, I mean her, to punish the wrongdoers, to make her beautiful, and take her away from all this.
Well, this Ella was a strong and determined young woman. She knew very well who she was. She was Ella, daughter of her wise and beautiful mother and her father, a nobleman, a friend of the king. She reminded herself often of her father’s words to her, that she was precious and that he would always be there for her.
She reminded herself of it when she felt cold, or hungry and especially when those who were supposed to love her, treated her cruelly instead. Though she often did the work of a servant girl, she carried herself as a nobleman’s daughter. Her father’s words repeating in her mind.
In her room she spent her time making dainty handkerchiefs from the leftover materials of her stepsisters many new dresses. When she went to market to buy the food for her stepmother she offered to collect things for her neighbours and with the coins she earned, ever so slowly, she saved and saved until she had enough.
Enough to hire a man, a very wise man, who had known her father and was well versed in law and things that Ella had never had the opportunity to learn. This man spent weeks and months searching and enquiring into her father’s matters. Ella worked on, despite her hardships, to ensure that she had enough to pay this man until his job was done.
Finally the man came to her with news, good news, news that would change her life! Was her father alive? Did this man find Ella so beautiful that he had decided to marry her and take her away from all this? Was she really some princess in disguise? No, No and a hundred times No.
Ella was all that she had been all her life. She was sweet and strong and sure of her father’s words. She knew she was precious and she knew that somehow even in the worst of circumstances he would always be there for her. The news was just some legal paperwork, hidden away in her father’s old workroom. The papers gave Ella the ownership of her family home. The same home that she lived in now as a servant she owned as the mistress of the house. A smile crossed her face that perhaps had not been seen for a very long time. Her father was there for her, perhaps not in person but his words on this paper proved that he was and always had been, there for her.
And her stepmother and sisters, did she throw them out into the street. Now remember this is Ella, sweet and strong, who knows her father’s words and carries herself as a noblewomen’s daughter.
No, although one of the sisters moved out to marry, let us say an “interesting gentleman”, and mother remarried and lives in the next town, they still visit Ella at Christmas. Her other stepsister has changed completely and now helps Ella run the family home.
Now Ella sews beautiful dresses for all those fashionable ladies, using the skills she learned in her cold, damp room. She sets the fires in her home to warm herself and those she invites in, because they have no place to go. She cooks and even scrubs the floors in her home just because she knows she does a great job.
Did she marry and have sweet children and live happily ever after, I do not know. But of this I am sure, she has always been and will always be, Ella, sweet and strong, safe in her father’s words, “You are precious and I will always be with you.”
The End
Or the thinking women’s version of the Cinderella story
Once upon a time there lived a sweet girl. Her mother and father were still very much in love. Her father was an important man, a noble man a friend of the king. Her mother beautiful and wise and both of them loved Ella very much. They lived happily together as a family should.
As often happens in a fairy tale, tragedy struck. Ella’s mother became ill and no matter what the doctors tried, it failed. A tearful goodbye was held as Ella’s mother passed to heaven. Her father burdened by his tragedy was never again as happy as those first years but he still loved Ella as his pride and joy. He told her often “You are my precious child and I will always be there for you.”
By Ella’s 7th birthday her father had married again. His new wife seemed a reasonable woman and it was a perfectly adequate arrangement. To Ella’s family was added a step mother and two older stepsisters. While her father loved his new wife and daughters, it seemed obvious; to them anyway, that he loved Ella more than they. He provided for their needs and loved them as a father should but they couldn’t stand it when they heard him tell Ella that she was his precious child and that he would always be there for her.
On Ella’s 12th birthday the unthinkable happened. Her father never returned from one of his many journeys on the kings business. Poor Ella! Her life was forever changed. Her step mother, hurt from her own loss began to take out her hurt on Ella. Instead of enjoying the same privileges as her own daughters Ella was treated as a servant. She was made to fetch and carry for her sisters who by this time had reached that age where they demanded everything and cared for nothing. Ella scrubbed the floors of HER family home, she cooked to feed those that treated her badly, she set the fires to keep them warm while she was shut away in her cold damp room with only their leftovers to fill her stomach.
About here, we as women, wait for the tide to turn, for the handsome prince on his white horse to rescue us, I mean her, to punish the wrongdoers, to make her beautiful, and take her away from all this.
Well, this Ella was a strong and determined young woman. She knew very well who she was. She was Ella, daughter of her wise and beautiful mother and her father, a nobleman, a friend of the king. She reminded herself often of her father’s words to her, that she was precious and that he would always be there for her.
She reminded herself of it when she felt cold, or hungry and especially when those who were supposed to love her, treated her cruelly instead. Though she often did the work of a servant girl, she carried herself as a nobleman’s daughter. Her father’s words repeating in her mind.
In her room she spent her time making dainty handkerchiefs from the leftover materials of her stepsisters many new dresses. When she went to market to buy the food for her stepmother she offered to collect things for her neighbours and with the coins she earned, ever so slowly, she saved and saved until she had enough.
Enough to hire a man, a very wise man, who had known her father and was well versed in law and things that Ella had never had the opportunity to learn. This man spent weeks and months searching and enquiring into her father’s matters. Ella worked on, despite her hardships, to ensure that she had enough to pay this man until his job was done.
Finally the man came to her with news, good news, news that would change her life! Was her father alive? Did this man find Ella so beautiful that he had decided to marry her and take her away from all this? Was she really some princess in disguise? No, No and a hundred times No.
Ella was all that she had been all her life. She was sweet and strong and sure of her father’s words. She knew she was precious and she knew that somehow even in the worst of circumstances he would always be there for her. The news was just some legal paperwork, hidden away in her father’s old workroom. The papers gave Ella the ownership of her family home. The same home that she lived in now as a servant she owned as the mistress of the house. A smile crossed her face that perhaps had not been seen for a very long time. Her father was there for her, perhaps not in person but his words on this paper proved that he was and always had been, there for her.
And her stepmother and sisters, did she throw them out into the street. Now remember this is Ella, sweet and strong, who knows her father’s words and carries herself as a noblewomen’s daughter.
No, although one of the sisters moved out to marry, let us say an “interesting gentleman”, and mother remarried and lives in the next town, they still visit Ella at Christmas. Her other stepsister has changed completely and now helps Ella run the family home.
Now Ella sews beautiful dresses for all those fashionable ladies, using the skills she learned in her cold, damp room. She sets the fires in her home to warm herself and those she invites in, because they have no place to go. She cooks and even scrubs the floors in her home just because she knows she does a great job.
Did she marry and have sweet children and live happily ever after, I do not know. But of this I am sure, she has always been and will always be, Ella, sweet and strong, safe in her father’s words, “You are precious and I will always be with you.”
The End
Me
OK it's confession time. I have finally nailed down one of my biggest issues. Yes, I have issues and yes, this one is big. I have, after much contemplation, realized that I have great trouble being me. There is somewhere deep in this psyche of mine an intense desire to be someone else. No hero worship, no one person I aspire to be.
No, just a nagging sense of wanting what others have. Perhaps it is a form of covetousness, but it is not the things themselves that I wish for. I don't need a new pair of shoes and having a manicure is highly impractical for my everyday life. Yet when I see or hear of someone with some thing, I have this gnawing sense that I need it too.
You see it is the things that define who a person is, that sway me; she is the girl who always wears flowers in her hair, or the mum who always bakes for her family and so I covet the flowers, the recipes, the definition that comes from these things. In my quiet moments, my thoughts billow and threaten to engulf me; who am I?, what is it that I love?, how am I defined?
These are thoughts that I wrestle with each time I 'sit awhile', each time I meet with friends, shop,or read. So why are they there? Is it a deep seated sense of poverty rooted in a childhood of very little possessions but no lack of any necessities? Is it an insecurity in my spirit, not fully assured of my place before God? Is it double mindedness as the things that are attractive to me are often trivial, shiny, so very transient in their nature? Is it purely self indulgence or simply an inner wanting to be appreciated by everyone, or is that one and the same?
Sometimes I crave for it all to be stripped away. All that is familiar, all that is 'normal and routine' in this life He has given me. For it to be stripped back until all that is left is the me without pretence.
And what I wish to be...so far removed from what I see myself. A deep desire to be strong, resilient, focused, unique, Godly...and what I am, often weak,overwhelmed, apathetic, just like everyone else and worst of all 'nice', not Godly but nice.
Ah to throw of the shackles of 'nicety' and be brazenly Godly! To know with full assurance, not only that He loves me and accepts me though His Son, but to know what to say, to think, to choose, to do! For every minute, every decision, every choice! To not be shackled by 'shoulds' or 'ifs' but resting, rejoicing in certainties. To "know who is me?" or to know "who is I AM!"
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