Brave

Writing for 5 minutes unedited this week over at www.thegypsymama.com with Lisa-Jo.

This weeks word is Brave


I want to run.  I want to run and hide and not be where I am.  I am not brave.  I am not strong, and I am not courageous.  One week ago my darling daughter was lying in pain recovering from emergency surgery to remove a brain tumour that threatened her young, fragile and precious life.  "be brave" and "stay strong" and "you're doing really well" people said.  I am not brave and didn't know how to stay strong and I'm sure I wasn't doing really well.
My daughter is brave.  She is strong.  She has courage.  And she IS doing really well!
And we are home from our ordeal recovering from this surgery by God's good grace.
To be brave is to trust God.  It is to recognize his sovereign power.  It is to know that life is a gift and that it is fragile and can end at any moment.  To be brave is to be ready to release my child to Him and to know that really she belongs to Him and I was merely blessed to have her for however long He deems it.  To be brave is to feel His strength in my weakness, to trust Him with my life, with her life, to turn to Him and pray without ceasing.
My brave came waiting to feel his peace when wretched and empty was all there was.  But He comes.  He whispers to trust in Him, rest in Him, that she is precious to Him, that I am precious to Him, that we are his daughters, that He loves us.  Trust him, trust him, trust him and watch the miracle unfold.

fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.... Isaiah 41.10

Jasmine is now home from hospital and recovering from surgery.  Her pathology showed the tumour to be Grade 3 malignant and a course of radiotherapy will begin in the near future.  As we turn to the Lord to ask for His grace, gift of faith and His strength, might we humbly ask you to pray for Jasmine and her complete healing and recovery through God's grace.  Thank you so much to all of you who left comments and encouraging scripture, words and prayers for us last week.  You really DO make a difference.  x

11 nHe will tend his flock like a shepherd;

ohe will gather the lambs in his arms;

phe will carry them in his bosom,

and gently lead those that are with young.   Isaiah 40.11

Empty

Joining Lisa-Jo for 5 minute Friday this week.  I'm sharing this from Children's Hospital in Vancouver BC.  God is gracious enough to allow me 5 minutes in a week of intensive care of my gorgeous daughter.

Empty

Empty was my heart on Sunday at midnight.  I was sitting in Children's Emergency Room with a daughter who went from skipping down the aisle at church on Sunday morning to being critically ill by midnight.  Empty was my heart that bled for the precious daughter diagnosed with a brain tumour.  Empty was my body of water as I cried a river.  How can this be?  How can a good God let this be?  Yet empty couldn't come soon enough for the brain surgery she needed.  I wanted an empty space where that tumour had taken place, alien to her body and need.

Empty soul and broken heart can be turned to something good, because God is good.  Empty became full as my mind filled with songs with words of comfort.  I kept hearing "Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord."  And strength did rise and when I couldn't my amazing family, friends, church sisters and brothers rose up for me.  I knew the Lord had my 5 year old girl and finally as she rested in ICU after 36 hours of gruelling empty,  He turns it to good and tells me to trust Him, rest in Him, that I am precious, that she is precious and watch the miracle unfold.  I am full - her tumour excised completely - head empty in the best way.

We still don't know if the tumour is benign or malignant but I am full and have peace.  My faith will rise as we wait upon the Lord, and may I humbly ask that you pray for my precious Jasmine Isabelle this day, my sisters in Christ. x

Sister

Linking up with The Gypsy Mama today for Five Minute Friday.  Please extend me some grace - this was a little longer than 5 minutes when I wrote it,  but it speaks an ache and longing I was feeling earlier this week - thank you.

This post written by Lisa-Jo prompted me to spend some time thinking of those distant shores today.  This is where it took me ~

I have a photo on my mantelpiece of my sister and I when we were young.  I am 3 years old and my sister is 5. 

She sits on my mantle, and she also sits on my desk in a digital photo frame that scrolls precious memories of 2 summers ago when I had her company for 3 glorious weeks.

My sister lives on distant shores now.  Not of her making – it was me who followed my husband and a dream to emigrate and leave the land I call home.  Did I really know how that would be 3 years in – 5 years in?  What will that feel like in 10 years, 15 or 20? 

She said, “I don’t know….. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life living this far away from you.”   I ponder this often and my heart echoes that sentiment, sometimes louder than the voice that spoke that truth first.

I didn’t know for so long what I had in a sister close by.  I took for granted that my sister would always be there.  I knew the way to her house and could drive from wherever I was like a homing pigeon when I needed to be in her physical presence. Now the closeness covers the vastness.  It travels the Atlantic and connects with her on distant shores by Skype, phone, email, and paper.  And I’m grateful for it.

But I miss the skin on skin of a hand held in solidarity, of face-to-face talking, of a hug that encompasses a multitude of memories and history.

A sister is a forever friend.   She is a confidante, a trusted source of wisdom, comfort and resource.  She shares history from childhood that bonds two people together.  She knows what it was to play together.  She laughs at our childhood silliness, our own made up songs. She was protector, tormentor, friend and foe. She knows me inside out.  She knows the best about me, and the worst.  She shares secrets, hard fought and won from parents.  She is my helper.  She knows what to do or say in times of trouble, and even if she doesn’t know, her companionship is enough.

She is amazing and I cherish her completely.  I took for granted how special having a sister is when I had her right there, and now I poignantly know it. I wish she was not so far away.  

Grit

We're writing with Lisa-Jo over thegypsymama for Five Minute Friday today.  Click the link and join us -

Grit

I take a breath and I close my eyes and I allow the Holy Spirit to fill me with courage.  Not courage of my own making, but His courage, His strength.  God has all the resources and power at his fingertips to make miracles happen and accomplish anything.  I don't have that power.  I don't even come remotely close.  I can work hard, but if I lean on my own understanding, I am shortchanging myself out of what could be.  It's hard to take this step of courage.  It's hard to stand on faith and I'm grateful that this faith is a gift.  True grit comes from having the faith to stay the course, to take the next step, to have the courage to follow when the plans I have, and the plans the Lord has may not match up.  Will I be able to do this great big thing called life?  Only in harmony, in obedience, in courage and in faith.  And I need as much grit, determination, courage and heart for when things are running smoothly as when things aren't.  Why?  Because ALL times are from God.  He allows all to happen to us to work out for our good, because God IS good.  I humble myself to give thanks and the grit comes with gratefulness, for knowing that what was broken can be healed and restored, and what was lost can be found, good news for me - good news for you, friend!

She Makes it Look Easy

I'm racing to drop my children off at school and there are other mums arriving with their hair and make-up just so.  They drive the SUV that I would love to be in.  They are arranging their coffee dates for later and will go home to folded, put away laundry and an immaculate kitchen.  They will apply lip gloss then head off for that coffee date.  Later in the day they will prepare dinner from a fully stocked fridge and it will be served with a smile and a flourish to their hungry family.  The other mum has plenty of time to complete homework with her children at a relaxed pace, and will still have the energy to smooth away her husbands tensions from his working day.

I, on the other hand, am not that mum.  I go home not only to breakfast detritus, but also last nights dinner dishes waiting to go in to the dishwasher, that is still waiting to be unloaded.  We were late for school because I couldn't find a hairbrush or my daughter's shoes.  My son's coat was in my husband's car, and don't even try and match a pair of socks.  The laundry basket is NEVER empty.  There are crumbs under the breakfast bar and a sticky patch on the dining room table from a juice spill last night that failed to get wiped.  There is dog hair floating round the floor and I swear there's enough to make a sweater.  I wonder what will be for dinner, or more when it will get made.   My day will not be filled with coffee dates, a tidy house or organised laundry.  It won't be filled with home finance spreadsheets that balance,  lovingly made cupcakes for my children that Martha Stewart would envy, or a gourmet dinner for my husband when he comes home.


The other mum I saw this morning has got it all together and part of me looks on wistfully wondering where I went wrong. Part of me admires her, and another part dislikes her intensely for running her life and home flawlessly and perfectly.  Her circumstances must be so much better than mine, right?

Wrong.  The comparison game is a dangerous game to play.  I may as well just press the self-destruct button.  Quite simply - that mum who makes it all look so easy is not so very different from me.

I only learned this recently when someone complimented me at school.  She said she admired that I was always so calm with my children, always spoke to them patiently and positively and didn't know how I managed to always get to school on time.  She said I was amazing.

Me - amazing!  Ha!  Had I become supermum?  You know the one who has got it all together?  For that other mum looking on that day, yes, I was that woman that made it look easy.  And that's when I realised the lie exists.  We're all just muddling along doing the best we can in whatever season of life we're in.  I'm learning not to play the dangerous comparison game.  I won't believe the lie anymore.

Instead when I see a mum who looks good in the morning, I'll compliment her.  Good for her for spending an extra 10 minutes styling her hair instead of throwing in a load of laundry.  If someone is on time, I smile knowing that they'll wash up their breakfast dishes after the school run.  I may not be able to go out to meet for coffee but I can invite my friend over for coffee later that day, and not worry about what the house looks like.  She's visiting me, not doing a dust inspection.

I now make a point of not having a "quick tidy-up" before my friend comes to visit.  Take me as you find me.  Let's lift the burden of pressure to be perfect and have everything together all the time.  I would rather be a mum and a friend who says yes, has time to meet with friends and play with my children.  I would rather take part in my children's life than just providing a sterile stage for them to grow up in.  I want to be real,  with all the mess that comes with it.  And maybe, just maybe that's what having it together is really all about.

Delight

On Fridays we write for 5 minutes with the gypsy mama.  Come over and join us!  Todays word is -

DELIGHT

Delight!  When I hear this word, or say this word I smile.  Is it a word that is used overly much?  I hear it in greeting sometimes "I'm delighted to meet you."  But true delight can't be put in a box that way, and made small.  It is big, bigger, HUGE!  To me, it is an outpouring and overspilling of absolute joy.  What delights me?  When I really think about this the list is huge.  It's my children with their giggles, their individuality, their personality, their talents, their cross faces, their struggles, their delights.  They make my heart sing.  My friendships that build, and can be loving enough to be honest.  It's hot tea on a rainy day, no actually on any day!  It's playing at a children's play park trying to swing higher and higher than my son.  Seeing raindrops on petals, eating chocolate, letters from home and dancing - yes dancing my heart out!  There used to be a dessert in England called Angel Delight.  I wonder what the Angels delight in?  They sing praises all day long, and sing and pray for us.  Their joy and delight is immense!  What delights you?

Trust

This week over with Lisa-Jo we're writing for 5 minutes about Trust.  Visit www.thegypsymama.com to join us.

Go -

My children trust me.  They look up at me with their questions and simply expect me to know the answers.  They rely on me to collect them at school, to make their lunch and that there will be food and a bedtime story that night. They count on me to make sense of chaos and unhappiness when it comes their way and to lead them to safer ground.  They trust me.   Sometimes I feel so fragile that I long for that kind of trust.  That there would be someone that I can completely depend upon and who will never let me down.  There is only one rock that I can stand on and be sure that the ground will not shift.  There is only one I can trust with my whole heart.  As a child depending on their parent, I can be God's child and depend and trust my Father.  It is only Him that I trust fully with every fibre of my being, and even that can be a stretch!  I sometimes wonder if He really does want me on this road, but then I trust Him to make sense of that chaos and lead me to greener pastures, safer ground.

Stop


 ¹ The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
 ² He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.^[a]
 3 He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness^[b]
   for his name's sake.    Psalm 23

Forgiven

It's a gorgeous sunny day so as the children tumble out of school we stay at the park to play.  There is laughter and energy and running and all is well with the world.  Then it happens - I see my son walking away with his head down.  It is not a slow stride, it is one that he has when he is angry, but there is sadness coupled with it too.  I call his name and he throws me a look over his shoulder - his face is set.  I just need some time alone, he says, and walks purposefully to the trees, where dens and forts and places to hide are abundant.  There is another voice from behind me shouting across to him "OK - I'm sorry!"
I look back to the play area.  My son's friend has joined my younger daughter and her friend and they cross the monkey bars with glee and squeals.  The friend looks every so often for my son and I breathe wondering whether to get involved or let them sort it out.
A few minutes pass, then the friend gets down and goes looking for my son.  I watch as they speak to one another in the distance - the friend looks earnest and I know he apologises, then my son raises his hand in a stop gesture and turns his back and walks away.  My heart sinks.
The friend returns to the park.
I let a few more minutes pass then I call my son to me and gently ask what's going on?  He doesn't want to talk about it.  I try again, and again he says he doesn't want to talk about it.  I take a breath then say, I saw your friend coming to say sorry, to try and make it right.  Can you not accept his apology and make friends?
Then come the words with the tears, flying like bullets, an angry torrent.  He is mad because "everyone" tells him he's wrong even when he knows he is right!  I take a sharp breath in at this brokeness before me.  I understand the hurt of being undermined and having the wind knocked out of you by others who repeatedly disagree with what you say, or challenge you by expressing that they believe the opposite to be true.  I keep calm and say I understand.  I acknowledge his pain, and then I gently remind him that perhaps he expressed all of his anger that has built during the day and directed it towards one friend.  I point out that this friend has tried to make it right, has humbled himself and apologized and asked forgiveness.  Can he find it in his heart to forgive?  The tears still come spilling and the anguished voice says "but its hard!  It's hard to forgive when it still hurts!"  It rattles me to the core.  Isn't this the truth for us all - for me now?  Simply the injustice of it all.  And how do we keep forgiving and giving grace when it just isn't fair. 


Looking at the broken heart of my son before me causes me to stop, and the brokenness of all this world hurts me.  We start this lesson young.  How do I explain this when I wrestle with this myself?
Isn't this the lesson we need to learn and live over and over again.  In this broken world we forgive because we are forgiven.  How can I accept grace if I can't give grace?  What does living a grace filled life look and feel like?  We forgive, because there is a liberating joy in knowing we are forgiven, that we are renewed and that the mess of it all can be turned to something good.  It's simple - I need to be forgiven and receive grace therefore I give grace and forgive.


http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/how-to-fight-bitterness

Click the link and spend 5 minutes reminding ourselves how to fight bitterness and learn to forgive.

Keeping it Real

We're writing for just 5 minutes this morning over with Lisa-Jo at www.thegypsymama.com.
Why not join us this morning

Keeping it Real

This is it - this is real life.  This day by day routine we have.  I get up half an hour before my children every day for a few precious moments of calm and peace before the chaos ensues!  But it's not chaos - its vitality, energy, youth and life.  The quiet is where I can meet with God.  The quiet is real and He is real, and mighty and can give me all I need for the day ahead.  It isn't long before the troubles come flying, with a broken toy, a cross word, a fight over a toy, lost homework and the expulsion of energy it takes from me to smooth the waters, calm the storm can take its toll.  These "difficult" moments can very quickly turn in to my perceived reality of a tired and tricky existence if I don't pause long enough to give thanks for it all.  Keeping it real means a life of grace.  Being able to both receive it and give grace away - over and over again.  Real is to be present in each moment as it unfolds, let the drama and the joy play out and just give thanks for it all in real time.

Tender

Writing with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday this morning over at The Gypsy Mama.  Won't you join?

Tender

Sometimes she holds me in the biggest bear hug imaginable and she reminds me so often of animal from the Muppets with hair flying wildly and is all arms and legs.  Not a baby in arms but she is 5, this girl child of mine.  But other times, she will pause long enough to be still and her breath is sweet and gentle on my face, and one arm curls round my neck in the most tender of embraces.  She cradles her other arm tightly round bunny and lodges her thumb firmly in her mouth, and her arm brushes softly against my hair.  She loves tenderly as well.  What stops a busy mum long enough to know this tender love?  Just be still is whispered.  Be still.  Over and over again that tender refrain to pause long enough.  Be still and know that I am God.

Zumba or Rhumba?

I recently embarked on an effort to de-clutter my home (still a work very much in progress!) so whilst feeling enegetically radical, I also decided to try something new for myself.  An advert in the local rec centre for a new fitness class called "Zumba" caught my eye.   It promised me a fitness class with a difference and would indulge my passion for dancing incorporating salsa, jive, tai chi and a bit of belly dancing to round it off.  Feeling keen, I signed up.
The week before my first scheduled zumba, I started to wonder what one wears to a fitness class these days.  I've never been a gym babe with lycra and sporty tank tops showing a toned and tanned mid-riff, not even when I was a whipper-snapping twenty-something.  So I decided yoga pants must be the thing as yoga studios are everywhere.  This wasn't as simple as I'd imagined. It seems yoga pants come in a whole slew of designs, lengths and varieties.  Does one want hip hugging, low or mid-rise, capris or long length for zumba I started to wonder?  At least I had a pair of runners I thought with relief!
Having obtained said pair of yoga pants, I started to look forward to my first lesson.  Then it happened.  Youtube can be a girls best friend or .... not.  I decided I'd better find out a bit more about zumba and started looking for a video.  It started out OK, then I started to watch in stunned silence thinking - YIKES!  what have I just signed up for?!!!  Will my body even move like that?  Never mind calling it zumba - zimmer may be more like it, as in frame as I was convinced I would need one at the end of giving this baby a whirl.   Who was I trying to kid?  I'm not twenty anymore!   What was worse - I had persuaded my friend to sign up with me - my slightly older friend who warned me she'd love to do it if it wasn't lots of high-impact aerobics.  Looking on the bright side I was heartened to see that at least I'd got something right - yoga pants seemed to be OK.  The bikini tops that these energetic, flexible and lythe young things were wearing with yoga pants may require a re-think, but otherwise I'd got part of the outfit right.  Sigh of relief!
Well, with a "nothing ventured, nothing gained" mentality, my friend collected me and off we went to our first Zumba class last week.  Ironically, the class is held in our local Senior Centre.   (clearly so the walking frames would be handy when required after the class!) When we arrived there was a dance class taking place already and my friend and I looked longingly through the window at these seniors having the time of their lives doing a nice gentle formation dance followed by a laughter filled folk dance.   One kind gentleman on leaving enquired what kind of dance we'd be doing.  He'd never heard of zumba but offered to teach us a nice waltz, or said he knew some salsa steps if we fancied something a bit racier and our teacher didn't turn up. I liked him instantly.  Looking in to this kind man's face I realised my folly and that I should indeed be considering the rhumba and not zumba.  With courageous heart, off we went to class, and I can say 2 weeks in, I'm so glad I signed up before I knew what I was getting in to.  I love it - and what's more - I can just about still walk the following day.  I may need a hip replacement sooner with all that wiggling and swaying but at least I'll have danced my happy way to it!

Vivid

Today I'm writing with Lisa-Jo at thegypsymama.com for 5 minutes.  The word today is Vivid

I love the word vivid - because it breathes life.  Vivid can't be dull and forgotten, but begs to bring clarity to memory and vibrancy and life to all.  My children are etched vividly in my mind and I love that the memories of them will burn that brightly forever.  Sometimes vivid memories are not so great, but they too serve a purpose.  They steer me to the path I'm now walking and if I use the vividness of the painful experience, it was not in vain.  God can use all to strengthen, mould and shape.  I need to show up with willingness to learn and keep taking the steps.  Vivid can be present too me as well, not just in my memories.  As I experience the day around me, the colours, smells, textures, words and moments make up a kaleidoscope of grace and beauty.  I write to sometimes capture this, in case I should forget - but with vivid - there is no forgetting!  They bear the hallmark of the sharpest pictures of both pain and joy - the moments when perhaps we feel most keenly alive.

Freakin' Clutter

With great intentions I have embarked on a de-clutter challenge with Glynnis this week. She calls it her 15 day clutter free challenge.  Looking round my chaotic home, the thought of being clutter free in 15 days seems very appealing.  A few days in and I haven't even begun to bust my way through the debris.  Instead, I've been instructed to spend time in prayer and prepare myself for the de-cluttering of my brain, and in effect my life, before the possessions.  Yikes!  I'm already apprehensive.  On day 4 and I haven't moved a single thing, except for the usual shifting of "stuff" from one place to another in an attempt to tidy up.  I am starting to think that maybe my house will not be looking clutter free by the time the 11 remaining days of the challenge are over.  Yesterday, I was instructed to begin the mother of all to-do lists.  In it, I was invited to include absolutely EVERYthing I do.  This list includes everything from the mundane everyday loads of washing, cooking meals, tidying toys, school runs, making packed lunches, grooming the dog, to the less frequent managing dentist and hair appointments, buying school shoes for the children, organising and packing for holidays, taking the dog to the vet and so on.  The list is being built over a few days and the really scary part is I'm adding to it at a fairly constant rate.  Todays additions included filling out school permission slips, supervising and signing off homework and hunting down and printing the requested family photo for the latest Kindergarten project.  I made myself feel tons better by only taking up one line on the to do list by heading it all school administration.

Glynnis assures me that I'm going to feel so much lighter after doing this list and that all this information that I carry in my brain isn't doing me much good.  It sends me reminders constantly so I find it hard to rest and often feel like I need to be doing something.  Sound familiar?  It certainly did for me.  What Glynnis didn't tell me though was that at this stage I might be FREAKING out!!!!!!  My list is 5 pages long - and I'm fairly convinced it isn't complete yet!  No wonder I never get everything done.  I'm thinking I need to clone myself several times over.  Or I'm really not kidding when I say I want to simplify.  Who wouldn't with that lot going on?  Clutter!  Ha!  I laugh at the cluttered "stuff" now.  I'm fretting about the rest of the challenge.  Clearly I've been tricked! - this is not about a nice tidy house, this is about getting my house in order.  11 days left - ha!  I laugh at that too - I'm thinking could be a lifetimes work, but I'm all for believing in a bit of a miracle so bring on Day 5 of the challenge I say!  Let's see what's next!

Awake

Writing for 5 unedited minutes this morning with The Gypsy Mama on the topic awake.  Click the link or the button in the sidebar to join in.

Go -

My first thought is awake - I'm just not awake properly yet this morning after a disturbed night with small girl.  But then awake starts talking to me and before long it is shouting AWAKE!  I cast my mind back and I'm thinking of a christmas holiday in B.C's Interior.  I had never experienced -40 degree cold before then.  I used to think -2 was cold!  I remember inhaling the crisp air and feeling it cold in my lungs.  It felt as though that cold air was reaching the very depths of both my body and soul.  As I exhaled longing for the warmth of life, I realized I am alive!  And it was like the bold awakening of realizing that every breath I draw brings life.  I looked round at this beautiful creation with new eyes that had been opened and a mind that had been awakened.  Everywhere there were glints of colour throughout the white.  The contrast between blue skies and white mountains, and snow laden trees was so sharp it could pierce me.  The groaning of the thick ice as I would trudge across a frozen lake made me realize that I was alive and all this - all this great big something was awake and joining in the celebration of creation.

Stop

A Time To Dance

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven  Ecclesiastes 3:1

Do I believe this statement?  I was recently chatting to a friend about this.  I have been spending a lot of time in thought about time - and I realize the irony as I write that. Time seems to be such a precious commodity, and the world seems to be living at an accelerated pace of life, where time dictates much and drives us at an impossible pace.  I find myself longing to simplify and with that, wanting more than anything to focus on this time and just one moment I have, instead of spiralling in to this afternoon, this evening, tomorrow, next week.  Always driven by an impossible to do list, fretful as I don't have enough time for it all.  But I've felt drawn to question that too. I do, in fact, have enough time.  I just should be more considerate about what I'm doing with it.  Where am I investing my time? Who gets my time? Does my family get my time? Do I spend it in spiritual contemplation of the eternal? Should I be walking in the fields with daisies or cleaning the floor?  Is there time to read an extra chapter of that book to my children or am I speeding up bedtime to check my email, clean the counters, make lunches for the next day?  What in essence are my priorities? There really is a time for all these things, but I must guard about spending too much time doing one thing at the expense of another. I need to find balance. 

This comes after a hard year.  2011 was exceptionally tough for me on many levels, and though nothing circumstantially has changed, something in me has changed. I have been drawn to this passage of scripture over and over again.  As I read all of Ecclesiastes 3, I sense that there is much I have missed in 2011.  There is a season for everything, and if everything has a season, how much of 2011 did I spend broken hearted and broken spirited, really believing that because I'm in a season of trial that only the worst is happening. It doesn't mean it is all bad because it feels all bad.  Did I give myself permission to live it all or just feel the bad during this harder year?  If I believe there is a time for everything, I must believe there is a time and season for trial, and it may be that mine must continue a while longer. But I know that as surely as there is a time to be born and a time to die, my time to dance is coming.  There's more to this journey, but for now I'm cranking the volume and dancing anyway. 

Roar

Writing for 5 bold, beautiful and unedited minutes this morning with the Gypsy Mama.  Click the button or visit www.thegypsymama.com to join the fun

ROAR

I want to roar.  I want to roar long and loud and fierce.  I think it might provide some kind of expulsion I need.  Pent up frustration, heartache, heartbreak, anger, despair - all of that could be summed up in a roar.  The lion has it right.  He can also roar for joy - and just because he wants to and that's how I want to roar too.  It is magnificent and expressive and most of all LOUD!  I need something loud, because my prayers feel smaller and smaller and less heard and somehow less important.  The roar would just say it how it is and the very act would maybe make me feel better too.  Maybe that's how we should pray - roar our prayers!  Roar the joy!  Roar the hunger!  Roar the praise!  Roar the hopes!  Sometimes we just need that big and bold and beautiful, and not the whisper of a spirit.  And I ask that God guides me in roars too!  Not the whisper so uncertainty can creep in - let it be big and bold so I can step out in faith and roar through this life I've been given, knowing I walk harmoniously.

If it ain't broke..... don't fix it

All over the blogosphere I'm reading about people asking God to shake it up a little and "unsettle" them.  It seems they all want their comfort zones challenged and bit of stretching to go on.  I'm all for a bit of spiritual growth, but I just want to shout be careful what you ask for!  If it ain't broke - don't fix it! Really - don't mess with a good thing, just be grateful it's good.  I'm craving stability and to feel settled.  I'm currently running a marathon of being unsettled and this challenge isn't pretty - it's full of stress, anxiety, uncertainty and heartbreak.  Yes, I can choose to trust that God has me, and He knows what's going on, but the battle between rest and respite with the Lord, and gnawing my fingernails and then fingers rages every day.  I may have grown spiritually through the trials, and trusting that God has me where I'm supposed to be is unshaken, but my world shaking round me is not fun.  I'm craving peace, joy, stability and harmony.  I long to bear my trials well, but I'm longing to have gratitude for an easy day instead of finding the gratitude through the hard.  Is it just that we only remember to give thanks and cling on when we're shaken to the core?  I wonder.

Time to hang with friends

I got to hang out with my friend today, and as we chatted I was really grateful for friends and really good friends in particular. They make the best counsellor, cheerleader and honest sounding board that a girl could wish for.  I enjoy that Jasmine got to play with my friend's daughter whilst we chatted over coffee.  I wonder if they will continue to be friends over the coming years, and I realize that these childhood friendships are as precious as my own now.  I need to nurture the friendships that are beginning in my children's young lives.  And I hope and pray that these new friendships become old friendships.  I love that when I hang out with these girls, that there doesn't have to be anything fake or showy.   I am uniquely made, and I can bring that to my friendships, and enjoy each and every person that comes in to my life for their unique qualities.  Note to self - I must remember to spend time with my friends more often.  There's always time to pause long enough for friendship.

New Year's Day

The children and I headed off for a walk this morning with Monty Dog.  He was disobedient as ever but I suppose he must have a joyful heart to skip so merrily in the sand.  And there's something reassuring about a belly giggle from the small girl as she decides to build a sandcastle with her brother on this mid winter day.  I didn't join in, I was too mesmerized by the bleak grey and winter scene unfolding before my eyes, and if the truth by told, a little numbed by the cold.  There are eagles here.  They sit silent and watchful, but their unique call always gives them away, and sometimes I am lucky to have one swoop by, almost in slow motion, but passing so close that I can look in to his shiny black eye, as he looks in to me.

My thoughts are a long way away, maybe on the distant shores of home, not on the nearby shores of this riverbank.  

I long for fresh starts at the start of the fresh year.  Can a heart really be transformed, and can a fresh start really be given daily?  I wonder about these things, and I wonder what the year ahead will bring.  

In the unrest, upheaval and unknown of today, the snow starts to fall and gleeful feet jog homeward.  

Grateful

I'm writing along with 5 minute Friday and the Gypsy Mama this morning.  Visit www.thegypsymama.com or click the link to join the fun.
Here go my 5 minutes on "Grateful"

I'm grateful for:-

fresh starts
crunching gravel underfoot
laughter
lazy afternoons filled with a dad teaching son how to fish
hugs for a teary friend
church family, when blood family is on distant shores
stir up the gift God gives us
grief that is raw and lament for a different looking motherhood
tears unseen
sea, earth and sky on outings with my children
firsts - day of kindergarten
text messages of scripture received at moments in need
honest moments
kisses goodbye
8 year old son saying "you have a point there, mum"
hairdressing "therapy"
reminder of own suffering being miniscule in comparison to many
a million sparkles on the water
hugs from friends
red wine
wisdom and smiles of friends
rainbows
orange and copper leaves
ecclesiastes 7 - don't look back!
weekend approaching