Holy joy-balls!!

The title of this blog has been placed on my heart for some time but I have been reluctant to write it because I was afraid it might sound a little bit blasphemous, but I intend to sing the praise of God so hopefully all will be forgiven.

It is impossible to ignore all the terrible news in the world at the moment.  My goodness, I try not to watch, listen to or read news but in this connected world we live in it is not possible to avoid it.  My soul is continuously troubled by the Israel/Palestine conflict and I have cried for the innocent victims of the MH17 plane crash and their devastated loved ones.  Locally stories of beautiful, long awaited babies being born sleeping never to go home with their Mummy and Daddy or innocent children having to fight for their life against some rare form of cancer or the sweetest little girl being placed in foster care again, all wears you down.  It is hard to cope and it makes you wonder about what is truly important.

Each week the hum-drum of daily life is also tiring, even without drama and tragedy.  Going to work, paying bills, packing lunches, meeting commitments, doing the dishes, cooking meals, watering plants and on and on it goes and really what is it all for anyway.

Then nearly every single Sunday I am reminded of what it is all for.  I do not intend or specifically set out to discover the true meaning of life every Sunday but somehow God repeatedly reveals it to me.  He slows me down just enough to feel the spiritual rhythm of my life.  I know the spiritual realm is always close by but in the busy-ness of life the beauty, wisdom and peace of it seems to get swept just out of reach.  The meaning of life for me is a feeling that I experience from time to time. 

It is really hard to explain what it feels like when I am existing in the awareness of the Spirit.  When I can feel it inside and out, when I breathe it in and it moves through my entire body.  It is peaceful and loving, it is all about simple pleasure, gentle kindness, it is colourful and comforting, it brings me joy and I love it. 

This Sunday I felt the Spirit in the warm sun on my back and in the cold wet mud as we planted our first ever potato garden.  I can see beauty and hope in the full moon as it rises in front of me as I write these words.  I saw it as the butterflies fluttered around my beautiful flowering lavender and as I heard our girls sitting up in the tree chattering together.  It is magical and magnificent and it brings me great great joy.  It is this joy that I think is the purpose of life.

I don't willingly accept that what brings me joy is so simple.  I often grumble that my life is dull, lacking in excitement and no where near as glamorous as I had planned when I was younger.  I never dreamed that being a mother and wife, a sister and friend, an active member of my Church community organising great local events, an RI teacher and living in this dry and isolated place would be good for my soul.  I never thought this would be the meaning of my life, but right now it is and it feels so right and very often it brings me great joy. 

I thank God that he reminds me regularly that the meaning of my life is joy and love, and nearly always that looks and feels different to what I imagined, but I try to embrace it, experience it and appreciate it as it happens.  It is this joy and love that makes it possible for me to walk on this Earth with all its pain and suffering and hopefully make a small difference in the lives of the people I know and love.

So holy joy-balls I say go and do what makes you joyful this week, do it in the name of God, no matter what it is, enjoy it, try not to over analyse it or judge it, but just let it be, experience it in all its glory, don't rob yourself of it.  Joy is not an indulgence or a luxury it is vitally important and necessary if we are going to survive and thrive in this often tragic world.

Tempo's lost loves

It is hot, where is the breeze, it is a little hard to breathe, if only there was a breeze.  Jen looked up at the bright, clear full moon and listened to the crickets.  She got the hose and began to water the frangipani tree that was continuing to punch above its weight.   “Are you fighting a losing battle little buddy, with enough water and tender loving care can you harden up to the unrelenting summer sun and the harsh winter frosts and prove all the experts wrong?” Jen spoke to the precious tree, she waited a little while as if truly expecting a response but there was no audible answer.  Jen hoped against the odds that it just might be possible that a sweet, gentle pretty tree could survive out here in this harsh climate, one day they might smell the soft aroma of frangipani flowers and she could stop buying the fragrance in a bottle for the oil burner.

She  looked up to the clear night sky, enveloped in the smell and sounds of water hitting the hot dirt and the faint aromas of basil and lavender from the garden and the cherry blossom soap on her skin from a recent shower, enjoying the overwhelming feelings of love and contentment. 

Tonight the serenity was broken by the mournful bellow of the poddy calf, “Oh Templeton” Jen whispers.  He is calling to his three friends who went on the cattle truck, or beef bus, yesterday afternoon.  Jen tries not to cry, but tears spike her eyes. She knows it is the circle of life, but she thought cows were dumb, who knew they loved the other cows and missed them when they were gone.  Templeton had been pacing their small block since yesterday morning, occasionally calling out for Harry, Tim and Craig.  Today he caught sight of a cow in a neighbours paddock and went straight over to see if it was his mates, but to no avail, he came back, head lowered, disappointed and sad.

The mournful bellow reminded Jen of a time when her soul was lost and lonely and called out into the seemingly empty night sky.  It makes her think of all the other relationships that we give no thought to, have no respect for and the understanding we lack of the importance of love.  Jen thinks to herself how much importance is placed on money each and every day, yet it is some kind of peculiar cow love that is making poor Tempo bellow loudly into the night. Love, it always always comes back to love. 

The cow is persistent, the cry is desperate and loud and each time he pauses in hopeful anticipation that his friends will call back and they will be reunited.  She slumps her shoulders knowing that they will never be reunited and wondering how long Templeton will exist in this sad, but slightly hopeful, state.

Her husband, Chris, steps into the garden and startles her at first, but then she says “Oh my goodness Chris listen to Tempo, he is till calling out to the other cows, and he is just a simple  cow, his sole purpose to provide us with food but he is sad, he is broken hearted.”

Chris was sad too that the poddy was so distraught but he said nothing.

Jen continued, getting quite upset “His cries make me think of all the people who are deprived of love their whole lives.  Walking through life, bellowing just like Templeton, calling into the darkness hoping against all odds that somebody they love, and who loves them back, will call back, offer security, friendship, comfort and joy.  Every time he calls out my heart breaks for the lonely, the scared, the heart broken, the deprived, the hungry and the vulnerable.  I can’t even help this poor cow, I cannot bring his friends home, how can I help anybody else who is suffering?” 

Chris is quietly mumbling something in agreement but has wandered off to move the sprinkler, he is reluctant to get caught up in Jen’s ‘we should change the world’ scenarios. He can not understand why  she has to read so much into a basic reality of life.  He would never say that out loud again, he did that once and still regrets the sermon he received how justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.

Before the misery gets too overwhelming Tempo thankfully stops bellowing  and they are both distracted by the other shapes, noises and smells and  enjoy the quiet evening in the garden.  Chris and Jen soon head inside, ready for bed, it is still too hot to sleep but the whirring sound of the ceiling fan is relaxing and comforting and sleep will not be too far away.

We are all so fragile

I love the song Breakable by Ingrid Michaelson, the chorus goes "And we are so fragile, And our cracking bones make noise, And we are just, Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys".  It is a great reminder that we are all so fragile, sure some people might hide it better than others, but each one of us is a breakable boy or girl.

I don't love this because it makes me feel vulnerable, trust me I don't need a song to do that, I love that it reminds me to be more gentle with everybody, the people I love and the people I don't.  I can quickly and effectively convince myself why I shouldn't extend the hand of friendship or just offer a gesture of kindness to some people, the fear of rejection or embarrassing myself is often the prime deterrent, protecting my pride, but this really isn't a good enough excuse.  Laziness is another excuse, some people are hard work and exhausting so withdrawing from them is an easy option.  Other people make me feel more vulnerable and fragile than I am comfortable with so avoiding them in the name of self-preservation makes sense.

To remind myself that each one of us is fragile, we are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys might help me overcome these barriers.  Tonight with all these thoughts whirling around in my head, I was helping to put pyjamas on our 6 year old daughter when she said "Mum we are given life so we can love people" and then kissed me.  Instantly tears welled in my eyes, and I hugged her and said "Yes, that is right".

We have been created to love people.  It can feel like loving people makes us fragile.  It is hard to love, to see past people's faults, to remain loyal in the times of trials, to stop judging for 5 minutes and just love.  Loving without any expectations of how people should love you back. 

I am blessed to know a couple of people who love unconditionally and you can not help but love and admire these people.  Sure they would not be described as 'high-achievers' by earthly standards, and people don't always treat them right, but I admire them and aspire to love like they do.  There are also people in my life who I love more than they love me, and it hurts.  They aren't bad people but I can't help but get angry and resentful, it isn't even their fault, they didn't make me love them I just do.  There are others still who probably love me more than I love them back, it saddens me if I hurt or disappoint them.

There is no doubt that lately I have been a little frugal with my love and I am feeling disengaged and a little more vulnerable than usual.  I need to lift the lid on my love, stop holding back in the name of self-preservation, it is stupid and unproductive, it is arrogant and resentful and it makes me feel unpleasant.  Today at work a super sweet work colleague gave me a little book entitled "His Princess: Love Letters From Your King" and I am sure this is a little source of encouragement God has placed on my path to help me re-connect to Him and to love.

People can think it childish and whimsical to talk too much about love, it is a thing for Mums and small children, little girls and fairytales but the reality is it is everything.  In 1 Corinthians 13:7 love is described this way "She bears up under everything; believes the best in all; there is no limit to her hope, and never will she fall", isn't that so beautiful.

I have such a clear image of when I have passed away, my lifeless body is in a coffin, in a fairly empty, light filled room and all I can think, feel, see, comprehend is a voice saying "The only thing that matters is who you loved and how you loved them".  You cannot love properly if you just love the people you want to, or the people you like, or the people who are of some benefit to you.  You can only learn to love, truly love, when you practise on everybody, including yourself!

What do you think?  Are you good at loving and being loved or do you think you have some work to do?

A burst of lime

I recently saw an advert for Colorme Temporary Hair Colour, it states "Introducing a fabulous way to temporarily colour your hair ... Change your colour and your look at a moment's notice without commitment ...Create a burst of lime in your hair without fearing the worst".  I related to this instantly, but not about my hair, just my life and my moods.  I'm sure my husband would agree that I can change my colour and look at a moment's notice!  The burst of lime reflects the little bit of crazy running through my veins.

Yesterday was one of those burst of lime, or Eeyore, days.  You know how it goes "Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning," he said. "Which I doubt," said he. 

My beautiful best friend asked me what was the matter and I replied "I don't know, everybody is giving me the s*^ts" and she said "What even me" and I replied "Yeah, a little bit".  It was the burst of lime, sorry.

I tend to get angry and disappointed in myself when I feel this way.  I know I have so much to be grateful for but on these days I have an urge to change everything in my life, I want to move towns and get a new career (everything gets considered from being a Priest or a teacher to a naturopath, I think I might have even considered becoming a Police Officer). Everything looks more exciting and interesting and wonderful compared to where I am standing. 

On these burst of lime days my first impulse is to see the dead and frosted trees and grass, all the bills, the dust on the cabinets, the long days, weeks, months and years of cooking tea for my family and having to do the grocery shopping and all the washing and the minus something mornings and the lack of rain.

Thankfully though, despite my tendency to be a little inconstant, my God is not, Hebrews 13:8 says "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever".  It is His Word that is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path (Psalm 199:105) and I am ever so grateful for that.  It is the shining light of God's love that helps me to see the flowering lavender in my garden, the ripening lemons on the tree, to appreciate looking out my window to see my daughter up the tree. 

It is He alone who renews my desire to write, to stay firmly planted where I am.  I hear His promise
"Happy are those who remain faithful under trials, because when they succeed in passing such a test, they will receive as their reward the life which God has promised to those who love him" (James 1:12). 

Burst of lime moments can be equally exhilarating and exciting as they can be gloomy and glum.  I can have lime mountaintop experiences and lime valley moments, and this can all be within one hour :-) Without the consistent love of God and His constant presence in my life this emotional rollercoaster we call life may be overwhelmingly exhausting.

 I  take great comfort from the saying

"Ups and downs show signs of life.  The day it becomes smooth and straight ... life ends".

          

Behold, I am with you always

This one phrase gives me so much comfort, Jesus says "Behold I am always with you, to the end of the age" Matthew 28:20.  Jesus is with me always, and sometimes I can feel the presence intensely, other times it eludes me.  This afternoon I felt God's loving hand on my life and it was extraordinary and pure. 

 

In Church today our Priest talked about how God is love, and God can be felt and found when we give and experience love.  1 John 4:8 says "Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love".  This gives me great encouragement because I feel called to love, to love God, love my husband and children, family and friends, love my Church, love my community and my earth.  Often this can be a very hard calling to explain to people or even comprehend myself.  It is very challenging to implement too.  I am fairly reserved, conservative, judgemental at time, I am afraid of getting hurt or feeling rejected and I am not naturally very huggy or kissy but I still feel called to love.  I am often scared of not doing it right.  I think it would have been better if I was called to be clinical and distant, but that wasn't to be .

I know without doubt I am called to love because when I do love (the patient, kind, hopeful, persistent kind of love) the feeling is exhilarating, it is when I know why I am alive, what I am here for.  I know that when I am eventually put in my final resting place the only thing that is going to matter is how well I have loved the people placed on my path to love,  everything else is merely secondary. 

 

The truth is I am not special, we have all been called to love, and it doesn't have to be extravagant or outlandish.  This afternoon the things that made me feel love, and experience God were:
There was rain in the rain gauge.







Because of the rain our small paddock of oats has germinated which is the cause of much excitement.










It fills me with love that our eldest daughter is taking a big strawberry that she has grown for 'Show n' Share' at school tomorrow and that our girls spent the afternoon up a tree.






It fills me with love that our youngest daughter loves our crazy dog!

So many simple things in every day that let me know that God is with me, and will be until the end of time.  It is this knowledge that helps get me through the more monotonous aspects of every day life, it is these direct interactions with God that help me stay hopeful when I accidentally hear the news or talk to sad people. 

I feel like the young boy in the Bible that handed Jesus his 2 fish and 5 loaves of bread to help feed the crowd of 5000 people.  Obviously what he had in the basket was not enough but once handed to Jesus and blessed by God it was more than enough.  That is what I am doing with my love.  My small amount of imperfect love is not enough to change the world, it will not undo the hurt that people feel, it will not stop wars, it will not feed all the starving people, but if I give it to Jesus and let God bless it, who knows what is possible.

Serenely superficial

I look at the clock at the same time every day, like I have done since my own babies started school, it is just after three o'clock and my heart leaps with joy because I know she will be here soon.  Kate is beautiful, there is no denying she is delightful to look at and inspiring to talk to and being in her presence feels like a ray of sunshine and warmth shining right from heaven to my heart.

At the tender age of 16 she seems more centred, more in tune with her higher calling than most adults I have ever met.  As her Grandmother I find her completely unnerving and fascinating.  Despite her youth she already seems so much wiser, and more worldly, than me even though I am some fifty five years her senior, it hardly seems fair. 

She lives just down the road, easy cycling distance and so I have seen her almost everyday of her life and I love her intensely.  I start to get sad thinking of her heading off soon to explore the world, thrilled and excited for all the potential and opportunity that exists for her but fearful about the loneliness I will feel without her here with me.

The thoughts of my eldest Granddaughter are broken by the sound of footsteps outside on the pebble pathway.

"Mimsy" she says in her lyrical way as she comes through my old screen door, "have you seen these beautiful flowers down the lane, do you know what they are called, did you plant them?"

"Hello there my Kate, and how are you?", I say teasingly because she often forgets to greet me at all, she says it is because she talks to me all day even when I am not there so hellos and goodbyes never seem necessary, but I'm not convinced.

"Maybe they are Muscari flowers, they are so beautiful and each year they just come up of their own accord, every time I see them I give thanks for the wonderful person who planted them originally, who ever that might have been".

As I talk, I am not sure if my words are even audible, I watch her arranging the beautiful flowers in a vase on the kitchen table.  Everything is brighter when Kate is here, her youth is so refreshing and wonderful and I love the slight thrill of never quite knowing when she might skip in, or out, of the house.  I am so jealous.

I spent my entire life planning everything, from the earliest age I remember feeling responsible and sensible and that feeling has never left me, no matter how hard I try, I just can not be unorganised or spontaneous.  I am one sensible Nelly there is no denying it and Kate is everything I always dreamed of being.

"Mimsy I've been reading some interesting writing of some olden day German scientist, not sure how I even stumbled across it, I think his name is Georg Lichtenberg, or something like that, have you ever heard of him?"

I had heard of him because all my life I have loved journal writing and often found quotes to help focus my writings, and Georg C. Litchenberg had some entertaining, sarcastic and quirky quotes that I often referred to.  Before I had time to answer she was continuing.

"He said that to be content with life or to live merrily, rather all that is required is that we bestow on all things only a fleeting, superficial glance; the more thoughtful we become the more earnest we grow.  You have intense convictions on lots of things, do you think that has robbed you of contentment?".

She was sitting close to me now, looking at me with great anticipation, waiting for some wonderfully wise words to be imparted by her dear old Mimsy.  My first response has always been to answer questions quickly, I fear people will be gone if I take the time to form a thoughtful answer, but Kate had really pierced into my soul with this question. 

Striking the right balance between passionate conviction and superficial merriment has evaded me my whole life. I regret that too often I abandoned passionate conviction simply to fit in, to appear normal and have friends and to keep the peace.  Fear of being wrong was always a huge deterrent in speaking what was on my heart and in the end spending more time alone has been my answer.

I looked into the sweet, innocent, love filled eyes of Kate and decided not to give her the cynical, harsh and unappealing answer of a tired old woman but I wanted to give her an answer that would give her hope that she could be passionate and also happy and content, just because I hadn't mastered it in over 70 years, didn't mean Kate wouldn't.

"Oh Kate, there is so much I want to share with you ...."

Just then the old grey cat started clawing at the door and meowing to come in.  Kate got straight up and cuddled Anne but discovered she had killed another baby bird, at this Kate went outside, taking Anne with her, off the verandah and into the overgrown garden with all its colour, scent, sounds and movement to reprimand the stubborn old cat and the conversation was forgotten.  I thank God that Anne interrupted at that very moment because I fear if I had of continued I may have inadvertently tainted Kate's view of the world and that was never my desire or intention. 

They say wisdom comes with age but maybe the wisdom is just to say less.

The Butterfly Experience

In December last year we visited the Butterfly House near Coffs Harbour.  The girls were desperate for a butterfly to land on them; they sat still and quietly for a long time in a relatively warm and humid hot house , which is to be commended for a 4 and 6 year old, willing a butterfly to land on them.  Eventually after waiting and waiting to no avail the lovely lady who worked there carried over two very delicate butterflies and sat one on each of the girls.  They were overcome with excitement and happiness. 

These butterflies were only 4 hours old, as the butterflies sat on the girls they opened their wings for the first time and started moving them, pushing the blood into their beautiful new wings so they would eventually have the strength to fly.  The butterflies are very fragile and vulnerable during this phase but they must move through it to become stronger, more independent and to become the beautiful creatures they have been designed to be.

Today as my little girl clung to me, burying her head into my neck, trying so hard to be brave but quietly sobbing I thought of those sweet little butterflies.  She has been basically attached to me for four years and now she has to stretch her wings out and it doesn't feel good, for either of us.  I know that if I hold her too close she will not have enough room to stretch those wings out fully, she needs time and space to start flapping those tender, new wings of hers. 

As she clung to my arm, crying out she wanted to stay with me, saying she loved me, I had to remove myself.  I wanted to cry too, I wanted to grab her and hold her oh so tight and take her home, but I didn't.  I know in my heart, stepping out and starting to explore the big wide world without me by her side, in a safe, caring, stimulating environment, for a few hours a week, is probably a worthwhile and beneficial thing for her to do.  Plus I need a little bit of time too, quiet time, time to earn some money, time to pursue my dream of writing.

I know I have many more moments just like this ahead of me.  I've already had a few when our big girl started school, caught the school bus for the first time, didn't get invited to a friends birthday party, all these experiences that they 'need' to have to grow into independent, compassionate adults who can contribute to make the world a better place.  Man it is tough!

Every time 'we' have one of these experiences I think of their beautiful wings getting a little bit stronger.  I hear a chorus of angels singing around them, cheering them on; I see the Holy Spirit surrounding them with love, peace, mercy, strength and joy; each time I see the colours of their wings get more vibrant and their wing span get wider; their heart get bigger and yes I cry when they aren't looking.  I cry because I am proud, because I am filled with love and yes I get a little bit scared that if I feel anymore my brain and heart just might explode, but this is the cycle, and beauty, of life.

How wonderful to be able to witness the unfolding of these beautiful wings so closely, what a genuine gift to hold them tight enough to give them strength but still let them fly when they need to.  What a miracle it is to stand by their side for the rest of my lifetime praying for them, encouraging them, loving them and being able to play a small role in supporting them to humbly and gracefully be the magnificent God created masterpieces they are.

So if you see my little butterflies out there in the big wide world, flapping their wings, trying to get strength can you give them a smile, encourage and support them and I will do the same for yours, ok.