It's Christmas Time

Ho Ho Ho ~ it’s that time of the year again…I’m in denial … again! It can’t be … can it? (lol … I never change – in some things)…

The lead-up to Christmas is an opportunity to reflect on the past year and take a look back over the highs and lows. It is a valuable time to take stock of what our purpose for this past year amounted to, and evaluate our personal goals. So how did you score? Did you achieve what you set out to achieve?

That’s why Christmas newsletters are so good. It gives us a chance to hear each other’s highlights for the year (and sometimes the low points ~ don’t worry…we’re all in this together ~ everyone has them). I want to thank those of you who diligently put together the family Christmas newsletter and let you know that yes, we do read them and we value them. It is such a wonderful way to keep in touch and updated.

This year, I would like to share something that’s been on my heart lately, and, as Christmas is looming, my two bobs worth fits in quite nicely here. This is the season to be jolly and I wanted to share about a powerful three-letter word…joy.

Christmas Spirit – Joy

The ‘big day’ means many different things to all people. Beside all the obvious family togetherness, the real purpose of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.

My prayer for all is that, Christmas is a time for joy, no matter what your circumstances may be. And I continue that prayer to encompass all times…for joy is not meant to be contained and hidden away.

During our toughest and enduring times, do we always remember the things we have; the ones who love and care for us here on earth, and importantly, the One who is in Heaven? Are we joyful?

Material things are nice, but how much importance do we give them? This year, think about giving something that is truly special this year ~ your time. Spend some of your valuable time with those you love and care for, and maybe think too about spending some time with someone who is lonely. Time is one of the greatest gifts of all. Time is important and it means so much when it is shared with us. Time spent with others creates special memories that perhaps will be remembered for a lifetime.

Just a thought: I wonder what Christmas would be like if, just once, we didn’t buy commercial gifts, but rather gave of our time, by either spending time with others, or making something special for them? A lot can be said for handmade gifts. They generally come from the heart. What joy might be found in making time and giving of it freely, especially in our time-poor society? Who, along with me, derives much joy from giving?

Joy is markedly different from feeling happy. We can still feel joyful, even when we feel sad or we are having a tough time.

Knowing God helps in this area of life. Knowing that God is always there for us, and living by faith, and not by sight helps us to be joyful.

Joy is an important gift that we need to share in this world.

Hidden joy is a sin of humanity.

A smile costs us nothing, yet it can leave someone feeling immensely uplifted. A kind or gentle word can sometimes be enough encouragement for someone to believe in themselves. How do you feel when someone takes time to smile at you? I know it makes me feel good.

Smiles these days seem harder to come by. A lot of people put their heads down and walk on by. We are all so busy and it seems society dictates the standard where people feel the need to live more privately and cocooned. Privacy is valued, but reaching out to others is a way to experience joy.

The reason for the season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus and to give thanks for why God sent Him to be with us. ‘And a voice from heaven said, “This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy.” Luke 17 (NLT). Let’s all try to remember to be joyful for what we have in life and give thanks with a grateful heart.

My prayer for all is that you experience joy during this coming Christmas season and into the coming new year. I pray that if each of us makes an effort to share joy in this world, we will all be winners, for instantly, we will have made our world a better place to be. Just something to think about… God bless xx

Fancy That

For some reason whenever I take a trip or go on a holiday I seem to get caught up in taking photos of nature's wonderland.

I don't show any interest when I am at home, probably because I'm too busy with everyday life, but send me on a holiday with a camera and suddenly I aspire to be the next Ken Duncan. Not really, but I don't know where this inspiration comes from.

Could there really be a little bit of fantasy mixed up in this urge? We all know that when we are away on holidays, we can be almost anyone we want to be.

Maybe pretending to be a hot shot photographer is one of my fantasies. I've never really thought that one out loud before, but perhaps it is tucked away in my inner soul just longing for the next holiday to reveal its hidden talents.

Or maybe is is just simply about stopping to smell the roses.

Whatever the reason, it is an enjoyable way to spend some of my 'rest' time, taking notice of the intricate ways nature interacts with its world.

On one trip up north last year we were blessed to spend some time on the coast. There's a lot to be said for kicking shoes off and feeling the sand between your toes. You can literally feel the healing properties of the sun's rays penetrating your soul.

The time spent on the beach allowed me to get up close and personal with nature first hand. I sometimes felt like the paparazzi of nature, instead of movie stars.

I am a mere mortal when it comes to taking photos, but on holidays, I actually start to think about the shot; the position of the subject, angles and light. This is a little different to the snap photography at home; quick head shots of friends and family members doing life.

I actually enjoyed getting down close to the earth where I could smell the salty sand and vegetation to take my photos.

On a trip out to Mt Isa earlier this year, my significant other took me for a drive to the deserted township of Mary Kathleen. What an interesting place. Here, my interest in nature sprung to life as I tried to capture every imaginable angle of the many gorgeous ghost gums I discovered in and around the many old foundations of the once vibrant uranium mining town.

The smooth, cool white of the trunks stood out in contrast to the rough and tumble of the surrounding relics and scrub. I saw beauty in every tree, each unique in its own way.

Ghost gums are my absolute favourite type of tree and if I ever contemplated hugging a tree, it would definitely be a ghost gum.

I'm Coming Back to You...mumma

It has been quite some time since I paid a visit to my blog.

I came and took a peek last night ... and then today I could feel the pull - enticing me back and making me 'itch'.

'Come on', it called, luring me for all it was worth. This has gone on all day, and funnily enough, when I decided this afternoon to sit down and write something, the blog site was down and prevented me from doing what I felt compelled to do. Isn't that always the way?

So why did I take a little vacation?

I needed to have a break ... because life, as it does sometimes, took greater priority.

Back in September this year, my beautiful daughter Kimmy decided it was time to fly the coop. She is our middle child and had been showing signs of being unsettled in the early part of this year. She had an 'itch' - 'itchy feet' (a little similar to the itch I get when I don't write). My way of dealing with 'writers' itch' is to journal everyday. I do this religiously.

Kimmy's way of dealing with her 'itch' was to book a ticket to the UK ... and not for a holiday, mind you. She decided that it might be nice to join the hoards of other young adults who make the pilgrimage to the 'mother' country and get a job and stay for a while. I, myself, would have preferred her to take a lovely holiday, but, she had other ideas. Who can argue? If you feel the urge, then it is only right to weigh up the situation, make a decision and go. So, with that said, off she went.

In the meantime, mum was left with all sorts of mixed emotions that come with 'empty-nesters' syndrome, didn't she?

I must admit, Skype has helped majorly. I don't know how mothers coped in the old days.

Kimmy's been gone for six weeks now and life has taken on a different sort of routine.

Oh, how is Kimmy going you may be asking?

She is lovin' it. She found a great church. Daily, she is making new friends, shares an apartment with two young adventurers from Brazil and another, from London. She's found a great job which she enjoys attending everyday. She has access to all the dance classes she could have imagined, has a great Christmas holiday planned for a trip of twenty days to a 'Game Park' in South Africa, catching up with 'besties', and is simply enjoying this time in her life. I am excited for her...I miss her, but in a 'good and healthy' way.

Then yesterday, my eldest daughter, Jossy jetted off to Japan with her lovely boyfriend, Chris. They are spending almost four weeks over there and have mapped out lots of sights to see and adventures to experience. One of the highlights they have organised is to stay two nights with the 'snow monkeys' in the mountains at a resort. How exciting...I am very happy for my girls. They are living a blessed life.

Back at home, I'm the 'lucky' one I guess. Lucky I love animals...I have gone from taking care of a rainbow lorikeet to helping to look after Kimmy's cat, Oliver, two old English sheepdogs, Mitzi and Jelly Beans, and two Lipizzaner horses, Dutchy and Obie...not that this is a problem...it just seems comical to me...I try to see the 'funny side' of life...and this is one of those times. The girls and my husband Ian (who lately works away from home during the week, whilst on a project), seem to have been replaced by a tribe of animals to keep me busy. I must make a mental note: Do Not Turn into Crazy Animal Lady!

Oh well, it's only for a short time and then, hopefully, everything will return to 'normal'.

My darling Kimmy has 'promised' she will be back ... one day...and Joss...well I know I only have a short wait till she returns...

They have both told me ... 'I'm coming back to you, mumma'. So, in the meantime...I'll be waiting.

Book Review - 'Anne Frank the Diary of a Young Girl'

Anne Frank's Diary is a book I had always wanted to read, but it had not been at the top of my priority list. Then one day I spied it in a bookstore and felt compelled to finally get it. Now seemed to be the right time; I was ready.

My approach to this book was one of great care and slight intrepidation. Years ago I read Elie Wiesel's 'Night' and 'The Forgotten,' just two of his many books about the holocaust, and I found them hard to get through from an emotional point of view. These recounts are seriously horrific and serve as a sharp and extremely uncomfortable reminder of the lowest acts performed on fellow human beings. These recounts play such an important role in reminding us to never allow atrocities of this nature to occur again. They are stark, piercing recollections and will forever haunt me for all my days.

Anne Frank's Diary is well-read by a mass population and many reviews are already in circulation, so I am not going to attempt to add another one to the pile. I simply wish to add some of my own thoughts and if you happen to be reading this blog and have never read Anne Frank's Diary, then it might just inspire you.

What an interesting, complex and deep girl Anne Frank was. She began the diary when she was thirteen years old after receiving a diary as one of her gifts. Initially she wrote purely for herself, but later she began to write for an audience and as she matured her language increasingly became well-developed for her age. She dreamed of being an author and approached her writing with this in mind.

The details and subject material Anne chose to write about daily, detailed intricately what life was like for this small group of people hidden secretly away in the annex of her father's workplace. It is hard to imagine such cramped living conditions and how intimately these people had to share this existence for just over two years. It is beyond all comprehension when most of us enjoy the freedoms we take for granted.

I found reading the book difficult as I neared the end. Knowing what fate was in store for Anne made me read with such a heavy heart. This diary is Anne's history and the history of those who were closest to her in the final two years of her life. It is a perfect example of times when one can be surrounded by many and still be lonely. I do wonder if Anne would have been so hard on her mother if she had of realised what her fate was to be. She was brutally honest about a lot of things and stayed true to these feelings, even when she decided others would read her work. All teenagers and parents go through issues with each other. It's a fact of life, but usually we are given a chance to work through these things privately and without being judged by others. Just think if we were all to write down our feelings when dealing with each other, I doubt any of us would come up smelling like roses.

I was most interested in reading about their living conditions, how they divided up the space, the roles they each undertook daily, the rationing of food, their diet, their resourcefulness and the way they continued to educate themselves and each other. Things gradually became harder as time went on. I was also very interested when Anne wrote about their friends outside (the people who helped them remain in hiding). It was important to show how these people continued to help them and what they had to endure from the outside as well.

How do you thank someone for their insight whose life was sacrificed so young? Anne bared her soul and the life of those she lived so closely with. I am sure she was optimistic and believed her diary would be published and read while she rebuilt her life after the war. I doubt she would ever have dreamed her words would be read post-humously. She may have died as a result of typhus, but she died, along with six others she shared the annex with, because of the conditions she was forced to live. What a waste of life. War is such a sacrifice for all who are forced to be a part of it. Whenever I read novels of authors, or other notable citizens who have died as a result of war, I am always left wondering...what if? What if there had been no war...what might these people have gone on to write, to be, gone on to achieve? Even just regular people...when life is snuffed out...we lose. We lose in so many ways too numerous to number...but, that is another story.

Book Review - 'The Ice Age' by Kirsten Reed

I always look forward to reading a debut author's work almost as much as I enjoy reading a favourite author's work. I anticipate fresh ideas and writing from the unknown...you never know what treasure will be unearthed. I particularly enjoy reading emerging local authors in order to see what talent is mulling around our own community.

The Ice Age is Kirsten Reed's first novel and is described by other reviewers as something between Lolita and On the Road. It is the tale of a young female hitchhiker who hungers for independence, life experience and in her search for these things, attaches herself to Gunther, a much older guy who seems to exist purely to travel across America's hicks ville highways looking up his interesting and quizzical collection of misfit friends.

It is a quick, fun read with quirky lines like "We drove past all the gaudy painted signs telling us where the next doughnut shop was, the nearest hamburger joint; pizza, now doughnuts again. The road stretched across this wasteland like a big silver rubber band, stapled down by fluorescent mustardy-yellow lines. Even the sky looked tacky, needlessly aqua, a tourist's T-shirt."

The novel pans out like a road trip journal. The young narrator delves into the mundane daily grind of long journeys, the same cheap motels in any town, food on the go, survival, sanity, the people they meet along the way and Gunther's friends dotted along the way.

There are several threads that pull this journey along. One thread is the relationship that develops between Gunther and the narrator. Not yet 18 and travelling with a much older guy draws quizzical and sometimes suspicious looks. Both characters seem up to task to put their relationship to the test as well. Society seems quite intolerant, even judgmental, for friendships of this nature.

Another thread is the narrator's rush to move from innocence to experienced and the immature way she goes about it. She longs for a closeness to Gunther he seems torn to be a part of. The see-saw of emotions between the two protagonists is intense and sometimes leaves the reader feeling tense and maybe even a little frustrated.

As a reader I kept asking myself questions about the two main protagonists. I like stories with layers that get uncovered ... I like depth and I found myself wishing I knew more background about the two main characters. I'm not sure I liked them. They sometimes made me feel awkward, which is probably the best way to feel reading a novel of this nature because the loss of innocence is an awkward time.

I enjoyed this story because it made me think of lots of possibilities and outcomes that could have transpired, but didn't. Throughout the entire story I thought like a writer and for someone who enjoys both reading and writing, that is a good thing. This trip is probably not for everyone, but if you're adventurous, I say ... go for it ... and enjoy :o)

Book Review - 'Disgrace - What is a Mad Heart?' by J.M. Coetzee

I thought it was time to write a little about what I have been reading lately, seeing as I haven't written anything before about books since beginning this blog. I am still getting used to writing publicly and sometimes feel like I get a dose of stage fright...still getting into 'the swing of things'.

I have just finished reading the book by J.M. Coetzee called 'Disgrace - What is a Mad Heart?', which I began a couple of days ago. This is the first book I've read by this author and I am happy to say, I'd read more of his work. He was a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2003 and a two times winner of the Booker Prize.

What drew me to choose this particular book? Good question...

I am on a mission to build a personal library, and so, often when I am out and find myself near a bookstore, I am magnetically drawn into it's depths to walk amongst the many shelves looking for new titles to accompany me home. Often I leave a bookstore with four or five new books for my shelves at home.

Some of my selections are based on titles I have heard about, friends have suggested, or what bookstores and writing societies have recommended. Sometimes I just like the look of a book's cover and the blurb and go that way. I know you're not meant to judge a book by its cover, but if it draws you in, then that can't be a bad thing.

I choose this book based on its cover and the fact that I found the blurb intriguing. I could not base my experience of this particular writer because I had none. I'm not certain the title grabbed my attention as much as the overall picture on the cover. I also felt compelled to read this story because I have many South African friends who have shared some of their stories about life in South Africa. Some of their stories I've found quite disturbing and judging from the blurb, this story sounded like it would be one of those disturbing yarns.

What did I think about the author's style?

I found the author's style easy to get into and everything flowed sequentially which helped the story move along well. I would say his style differs greatly from a Dan Brown page turner, but Coetzee is a steady page turner. My heart rate remained steady and I could breathe unassisted. The language was easy to digest and entertaining.

What did I think about the story?

I found the issues quite confronting and sometimes distasteful. But, having said that, they were interesting and moved the plot along. I was right about it being a disturbing yarn. The story left me thinking about lots of different issues, about life in general and about the racial tensions experienced in our world. I have lived all over Australia, along with a couple of other countries, and have enjoyed and lived through many life experiences, however, this story left me feeling at a loss at how racial issues touch our lives and the lives of others in countries where I have had no experience, and so, found it hard to relate to the issues experienced by the protagonists of the story. The author spent a lot of time looking at human relationships between family members, friends, colleagues, neighbours and metaphorically looked at relationships between humans and animals and compared the two throughout. A deep thread running throughout this story was values; the value of human life in many forms and situations and comparatives were made across the value of animal lives.

Overall?

I found this a very thought provoking story that has a lot of merit. The protagonists and minor characters of the story are ordinary people leading ordinary lives who live under some extraordinary situations or deal with extraordinary issues. The author has left many threads untied. This story is certainly not all tied up in a neat package with a happy ending. I enjoy reading books that make me think and stretch me. I believe this book stretched me and I took away a new awareness of what some people in other parts of the world endure.

If you like to be challenged, then I recommend this book to you.

Face Book - New World for Mums

Recently I have heard a few of my younger face book and twitter friends lament that their mothers have joined face book. There seems to be some mixed reactions...namely a question of their 'stolen' privacy, mums now keeping tabs on things, or feelings of their 'robbed' honesty. However, there are others who are happy to share the wide world web with their mumsys.

I find it amusing to hear or read the mix of comments. Being a mother myself, the comments have made me wonder what my own children thought of my appearance on face book.

I don't have to worry about Twitter because I am the only one, so far in my family, who twitters. I love to tweet ... especially knowing I have access to the whole world instantly and can find out the most random things in a heart beat...things I didn't even think I needed to know.

Why did I join face book? Many reasons I guess, but my intention certainly had nothing to do with any need to check up on my kids or their friends.

I love to have a go at new things and love a challenge. Learning to manage face book and navigate around the various sites is a challenge and I think I learn new stuff every time I get on there. I have fun on face book and find it a quick way to share info, especially photos. It is a fabulous way to share photos with others who are interested and know how your friends and family are, especially when distance is involved. Finding old friends is an added bonus. I seem to only use face book as a form of communication, rather than playing the games or quizzes that are offered.

Kids whose mum's have managed to create a face book page should be proud of them rather than worry about how it is going to affect their use of face book. For the kids who are happy their mums can share the face book fun with them - good on you.

I can only speak for myself, but I think everyone should just relax. Most mums have their own set of friends who they can connect with as much as any need to be connected with their children. It is simply an added bonus to be connected with your kids and their friends.

I know of situations where being connected to family or friends gives alerts to certain situations, but that is a positive thing, rather than a negative. Any situation can be either positive or negative - it just depends on how it is viewed. Face book may just speed up the inevitable of finding out things faster, perhaps.

I enjoy face book but try to limit the time I spend on it...it does have the potential to be a time waster if you are not careful.

I challenge those mums out there who have joined face book...don't stop there...have a crack at twitter too...twitter is fun, quick and you get in the know fast...

I welcome any interesting stories or comments of your face book experiences...

My Blessed Son

Today is my 'baby's' birthday...he turns 20 and is technically not a baby anymore, but he will always be my baby. I love him dearly, even when he challenges me with some of his antics. As any mother of a boy knows...boys are full of antics and mischief.

He has a great heart and I know he is going to be an awesome man of God...I am believing for this.

We started the day's celebrations early with breakfast in bed accompanied by sparklers and a rendition of 'Happy Birthday to you...'

I am blessed with three beautiful children. Dylan has two older sisters. I had always wanted a baby son and was so happy and contented to be blessed by God. I felt very complete with my two gorgeous daughters and Dylan was the icing on the cake, when he came along. I am so glad that I had the two girls first, otherwise I may have missed out on my youngest daughter (if Dylan had beaten her in line). I can't begin to explain how content I am with my lot in life.

I love all my children in such different ways because they are so different from each other. It is awesome to see such individuality and variety of character. God is amazing and how true is the scripture...'I am fearfully and wonderfully made...'?

Dylan is a character - I cannot tell a lie and I love his spirit...and I know as he matures, he will only get better.

When Dylan decided to enter the world, he was in a bit of a hurry. He was born at 12:45am on 17 June, 1989 at the Mater Hospital in Rockhampton.

My husband Ian and I, with our two younger daughters and my parents, lived on a property (154 acres) out near the small settlement of Dululu, which is approximately an hours drive to Rocky. Things were tough for us at the time. We were experiencing a severe drought which meant Ian had to secure work elsewhere as we were unable to support ourselves on the property alone. I had recently given up work in order to have our third child and Ian managed to secure some contract work out at the mines. He was due back the day Dylan decided to make his entrance. His father missed him by several hours as his plane was not due to land until a more 'reasonable' time.

I had been for one of my regular doctor visits the week before and the doctor had told me that if my baby had not arrived by Tuesday of the following week, he would induce me. Soon as I heard the word 'induce', I mentally decided that that was not an option...and I began to 'will' myself to deliver this child soon. This situation needed lots of prayer. I did not want to be induced after my first experience of this method when Jossy made her entrance. I had experienced such a wonderful birth when Kimmy came and I was 'spoilt'. I knew in my heart that having my next baby naturally was what I desperately needed...however, who knows that when things are beyond our control they don't always work out the way we want them to? I am sure others have experienced this from time to time.

The day before Dylan arrived was a Friday and the Rocky Show was on. I promised the girls I would take them to the show. So we loaded up in the Ventura Station Wagon and trotted off to town. We started out early and by the time I got to Rocky I had developed the start of a migraine headache. I dropped by a pharmacy and bought some medication, which helped immensely and I was good as gold from then on.

I drove up to a friend's parents home. They lived close to the showgrounds and told me I could park the car at their place as anywhere near the showgrounds was so busy and I would have a hard time getting close enough to walk (and I was very pregnant). I was most thankful for the offer.

I spent a wonderful day with my gorgeous girls Kimmy and Jossy, walking around the show. It was a big and very long day. I was disappointed that the show people would not let me onto the dodgems cars with my girls...:o(, but it was understandable...they had a duty of care I guess...but I felt so good. The girls had a ride on a camel too. We had the best day...and we certainly covered many miles traipsing around the grounds. At day's end, I'd promised the girls Hungry Jacks (their favourite at the time) for supper before the drive back home to the property.

We were offered dinner by my friend's parents when we got back to pick the car up, but I explained that I'd promised the girls Hungry's and didn't want to disappoint them. I thanked the family and we set off for Hungry's. By this stage I was famished as well. I took the girls' order and went up to the counter to place it.

By the time our food arrived, I had lost my appetite...suddenly...which is highly unusual for me. While the girls ate their dinner (a real treat for them, because living out where we did, we never had access to take-away and we couldn't afford take-away back then anyway due to how tight everything was), I began to have the occasional little twinge, but I didn't really think too much about it.

It was about 8:30pm and I was not looking forward to the drive home (another hour), but we headed off. The girls were pleasantly tired and had enjoyed a really lovely day. I suddenly felt very 'bushed' and was looking forward to bed myself.

The twinges increased in size and frequency. It began to dawn on me that I might actually be in labour??? I watched the clock in the car and timed each of the pains that came in waves...they were now three minutes apart.

We made it home okay and I got the girls ready for bed. Joss was six years old and Kimmy was two and a half. I wanted to keep their routine in tact and after they had a quick tub, we snuggled up in mummy's big bed to read a story. They knew daddy was coming home the next day and were excited. As I read to the girls, I have to admit, I was a little distracted and kept thinking about getting out my copy of 'Every Woman' the other 'bible' to see if I was actually in early stages of labour, but I needed to wait till the girls were settled. They finally nodded off to sleep and I quickly scanned the pages of my 'bible' and decided that yes, I was in labour.

I phoned for mum and dad (who lived quite close) to come over and then phoned for an ambulance. By this stage it was about 10:30pm.

Steve, the local ambo arrived. I asked him not to make me get in the back as I did not want to get sick as I sometimes suffered from motion sickness. So, I got to ride up the front. As we drove into Dululu, Steve decided he needed to clean the front window of the ambulance and he pulled up just off from the local tennis courts...I had to laugh because on a Friday night a lot of our friends played tennis together, including Ian and I. This night was no different and by pulling up right where Steve did, I felt like he was giving everyone the 'heads up'. Seeing an ambulance always raised some interest, especially in country areas.

The contractions got quite close together on the return trip to Rocky and I was feeling really tired. This was not what I had in mind, but I was really glad I would not need to be induced. I was disappointed that Ian would not be there this time for the birth.

By the time we arrived at the hospital the pains were very strong and I had problems answering the questions the staff asked me...all the paperwork stuff. They did a check of me and whisked me straight into the labour ward. They tried for quite some time to break the waters, must have been a bit tough, but once that was successfully done, Dylan arrived swiftly at 12:45am. I was ecstactic that I had given birth safely to a gorgeous little boy. He was practically bald with just this very fine white fuzz and a little round face...he was absolutely beautiful. The texture of his skin was so different to the girls. I can't explain it...there is a real difference between girl's skin and boy's skin (as babies)...their skin is smooth but the look and feel is very different. Dylan weighed 7lb 14oz, my biggest baby.

Once I knew I'd given birth to my son, my inner soul felt complete. I knew I was holding my last baby and that I had just met my one and only son...and I now had my complete family. It is such an internal feeling...I don't know where it comes from or why it is there. I was 28 years of age and had all of the children I was going to have over before I turned 30. I was excited now. I was more than ready and contented to watch these beautiful little beings grow and develop into wonderful human beings...my only hope was that they become the very best that they could and that they lived their lives in honour of the One who created them.

Ian arrived up at the hospital later on during the day and met his new son for the first time. Finally we were altogether, even if it was for only a short time before Ian had to leave to go back to the mines where he worked in procurement.

Dylan, for a long time, often asked me why we never had another boy (especially when he was exasperated with his sisters) and nothing I said ever seemed to placate him. I guess he always longed for a brother...until one day I said to him..."well Dylan, if we had tried for another baby, there was always the 50/50 chance that you would get another sister"...he has remained quiet about this ever since...and I know, over the years, his sisters have grown on him and I don't think he minds too much, really...

Poly-fleecy Stirrups - A Girlz Best Friend?

I've been set a challenge by my daughter to write about stirrup pants...what can one say about stirrup pants? Does anyone wear them anymore? Apparently so, for when you jump on the internet, there are plenty out there looking for a home.

So, I wonder who has actually had a pair grace their wardrobe? It has been quite a number of years since I had a pair. Fashionably unflattering, they did serve a practical purpose??? Surely some would agree with me? Maybe not.

I owned a pair when my husband and I lived in New Zealand for a time. Over there, I also owned a pair of hiking boots, too. Yes, I really did...and the two really do go hand in hand, I'd say.

There were posititves of owning a pair of stirrup pants. Let me count the ways...well...oh, yes, they were easy to pull on...like an adult version of baby pull-up pants (the types the toddlers wear these days)...once they're up, you need strong elastic around the waist, otherwise you'd be forever hitching them up. Once on, you could pull on a pair of warm woolly socks over the top and then, slip your feet into the security of your hiking boots for those serious walking tasks. If you weren't planning to go out and wanted to lounge around the comfort of your home, you could replace the hiking boots with either a pair of d'woolly ugg boots, or even better still, a pair of multi-coloured/striped leg warmers, complemented by a pair of baby pink ballet slippers and then you could lose yourself in the moment of aerobic exercise. Who needs snuggly blankies? With wonderful stirrup pants you get the freedom to move. The stirrups were also wonderful for keeping the bottoms of the tights from riding up to meet your butt. They managed to allow all of your legs to remain warm and secure. I am sure there are lots of variations of fabrics, however, I always preferred the warm fleecy fabric.

For those romantic moments with the hubby...picture this...lying alongside the love of your life wrapped in your slinkiest stirrups on a long-haired woollen rug in front of a roaring fire, with nice little treats to indulge in...when the moment is just right...your love reaches his big toe over and ...twang...releases all that tension...makes me just want to race out now and grab a pair...

The only drawback I can see (other than the obvious), is the way the stirrup always pulled the fabric behind your knees and upper thighs. It kinda made you look like you owned a pair of planks rather than the shapely pins you most definitely had.

Birth Day Magic

Twenty-six years ago started out for me unlike any I had experienced before. I had spent the past nine days moping around a hospital ward, waiting...

I was twenty-two years old at the time; young, fit and excited. So what was I doing in the local hospital - moping around for nine days? I was waiting to give birth with my first child.

I was sent to hospital for rest as the doctors were concerned that there was a problem with the placenta and they wanted to monitor my situation. Hospitals make me anxious at the best of times and to have to stay in there for so long was for me, not very relaxing, but I knew it was for the best.

During the past nine days I watched women come into the ward after delivering their new born babies, while others left taking their new bundles homes. Meanwhile, I was left still empty-handed, waiting. Time seemed to go so slow...

Then on the 9th June 1983 the doctors had made the decision to induce me. I really had no idea what this actually meant (only that they were going to make the baby begin the birthing process)...I was a little scared - this was it...

I knew that after that day I would never be the same and my life as I knew it would never be the same.

Labour lasted all day and even though I thought I'd had a pretty good birth as I didn't have anything to compare it to, it was actually a very hard birth - long and difficult, however, at 5:35pm that evening I gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl. I must admit, in my naivety, I confused the placenta for something else and thought for an instant I had given birth to a boy...

The first time I laid eyes on my beautiful new little baby daughter I was hooked. I still remember peering down into her small white face and looking into the two dark pools of her eyes. I felt so blessed and unbelievably happy to be a mother (even though I was yet to learn what that all really meant). It was this moment, such a special moment, when I got to meet my daughter for the very first time and fell in love.

I named my baby Jocelyn Mae Alexandria...Jocelyn means to be merry and happy - and that is exactly what I wanted for my daughter. Mae is my mother's second name and Alexander was my father's second name...so I modified this name and gave it to my daughter. I did this to honour my parent's for the love and support they have showered me over the years. Joss (as we call her) does have a long name, but each of the names she was given are badges of honour and she should be proud of them.

There is no love like a mother's love...it runs deep and I have never looked back. I have enjoyed the years I have spent with Jocelyn (my eldest daughter and whose birthday it is we celebrate today).

I truly hope she has a wonderful day today. She is blessed to be able to share her birthday with her siblings Kimmy and Dylan, her dad, Ian and boyfriend Chris.

I discovered over the years that there are no boundaries to a mother's capability to love. When I looked into the new born eyes of my second daughter Kimberley Robyn and my much wanted son, Dylan Ross - I was hooked...and my children are the dearest treasures I hold so close to my heart.

Our life is not unlike others...we have good times and challenging times, but throughout the journey, I feel I have been blessed by God. He has entrusted me with wonderful gifts of children and He has blessed me with a wonderful husband to share my life with. I have always been conscious of making sure I do the absolute very best I can for my family to help bring out their gifts and help them to shine in His light.

Happy birthday my darling Jossy ... I pray God's richest blessings for your life today and forever more. Hope you have a blast and that dinner tonight is fun, fun, fun...

Secret Spaces

Isn't it always something when you discover a place that hasn't had too much promotion (yet), is relatively brand new and quiet...a place that allows you to breathe in the big city, even though it is in the big city...a special place you can tuck inside your heart and treasure and know that for, at least a little while, not too many know about it and so you can enjoy it even more. One day, you know for sure, more and more people will come (as it should be)...because this is a place to be shared...enjoyed by many...but, for now...I want to relish in my secret place

I went there today...to this special place and it was good.

To the ordinary, it may not have been the best day to venture to this hideaway. Threatening dark clouds continuously rolled across the blue hue of the sky and to the unadventurous, it could have put a spanner in the works, if it had been allowed...but not me, nor my companions. We tripped the light fandango with flowers in our hair and led a merry dance across the span. We arrived between showers and explored the new and tidy gardens, rockeries and sculptured environmental art works...a friendly space for all.

Thoughtful planning has seeded the beginnings of a sanctuary along Brisbane's old man river and made use of strong timbers once used in a yesteryear's wharf. The concrete is stamped with words from a bygone era...accident reports, wartime notes and interesting anecdotes. History is revived in this place of those who have gone before us. Those who have marked this place like initials scratched out in the trunk of an old eucalypt.

Preservation has such an important place in our society. We must do all we can to protect our culture and show the newer generations where we have come from. What is special about this place? The peacefulness and its links to our history and importantly, the story of one aspect of Brisbane.

This area of nostalgia is framed by a contemporary modern look and is topped off by a delightfully fresh cafe...where the food is decidedly delicious. My companions and I were delighted with our culinary choice and polished off our food - fully satisfied.

Do I want to share my secret with those who happen to stumble onto this site? Okay, I will as I think it is safe to say that this site is tucked away and hidden in cyberspace...and how can I not share this spot with my friends?

This new-found favourite place of mine, here in Brisbane, is Northshore Port Parklands Reserve (near Hamilton and the wharf where the cruise ships dock). I highly recommend it...great bbqs, shelters, play equipment, lushious lawns...it's got it all...and the cafe is fabulous and friendly.

We went over the Mountain

We were up bright and early today. My husband slipped off to the airport in his ute, loaded up with Jelly Beanz and Mitzi (our two Old English Sheepdogs) to pick up his brother-in-law who was due to arrive from WA.

In the meantime, I decided to harvest some fresh herbs from the garden and make some savoury muffins and some apple, cinnamon and blueberry muffins. When the guys returned home, they put in an order for some porridge and once everything was prepared, we sat down and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and catch-up.

What do you do with a relly who is only here for a couple of days before heading off to the southern states? You take him to the mountain...Mt Tamborine, that is.

We headed out after the boys set about mapping a new and different way to go. Hubby wanted a new and fresh experience. We drove along the Mt Lindsay Hwy and headed off toward Canungra...the back way. We passed through some truly beautiful country that we don't often get to see. It is amazing where people decide to build.

On a previous trip out that way, we stumbled upon a little settlement called Wonglepong and found ourselves really drawn to the area. It is very peaceful and beautiful out there. The natives are doing an awesome job keeping their places in immaculate condition (well, most of them are). There is one place in particular that we both really love. We can visualize ourselves living there...one day...everyone has to have a dream...don't they?

After we exhausted most of the streets we began our assent of the mountain. Going up this back way presents itself with a slight challenge (very narrow road...too narrow for caravans, etc. Lucky for us we didn't bring our caravan...oh that's right, we don't have a caravan...well if we did...it would have been a challenge).

This was our third assent of the mount and we had to wait at 'base camp' for the lights to go green. Have you ever been in a car with an 'enthusiastic' driver who uses both hands (and arms) to express themselves and point out things of interest? My husband likes everyone to check out the scenery. He says there's no point having everyone watching the road. But I think it's so they can't see that he doesn't have his eyes on the road either.

What is it with men, machines and narrow hairpin turn roads? Mountain roads are like a magnet for dubious road etiquette. How close to the edge of a mountain road can a wheel can go before it slides off down the embankment? How many k's can you do around a hairpin corner? "Brockie ran into a tree honey, probably on a road just like this one", I tell him. "Slow down, don't go too close to the edge, watch for falling rocks (well, we have had a lot of rain these days)"...and so it goes...

We reach the top and I can begin to breathe again. Once again normality returns and hubby appears to be in control - almost. Our guest brother-in-law has never been up the mountain and the plan is to take him to the main centre of the Gallery Walk, have lunch and explore...except for one minor detail...we have never been up the mountain this back way and it soon becomes very clear to all in the car that we have no idea where we are going. Hubby turns this way and that way, backtracks and does it all again...it's a big mountain I tell our brother-in-law (who now has the refidex opened up on his lap, suspicious that there is a chance we may be lost). There were many moments where we thought we were heading back down the mountain after not even finding Mt Tamborine. Finally, though, we were saved from further embarrassment when we stumbled upon a tourist map on the side of the road...and how helpful that proved to be. I was very impressed that my mere male (MM) stopped to check.

We enjoyed a lovely afternoon of dining and checking out the local shops. We were 'fortunately' saved from a sure drowning during a passing shower of rain when we escaped into the Mt Tamborine Winery. Here we were offered wine tasting of their exclusive wines. The boys left the premises (after the weather cleared) brandishing two bottles of awarded labels. Next door we ducked in and sampled some interesting dukkahs. We finished off our trip to the mountain by visiting with some friends who live up there. At least we were able to find them without too much trouble once we got our bearings.

Spending the day up on the mountain was very enjoyable and our brother-in-law assured us he enjoyed himself too. There's always lots to do and see. We missed the craft markets today, however, we can always go back another day...we need the practice.

Miscellaneous Manners

I wasn't sure I would make it onto my blog today...having all sorts of wireless problems. The trouble is I can never tell if it's me or the computer or the network. My son assures me that because we are 'crossing over' (virtually speaking) from our old system to this wireless stuff, we have to wait patiently as everything revolves around the 'billing' side of things. He tells me our speed and internet service at the present time is the equivalent to the old 'dial up' and that in a few short days, we will convert over to high speed wireless broadband...I hope this is true because it is very frustrating.

But onto other things...I saw on one of the current affair shows aired on telly last night where a couple of restaurants and shop keepers are taking a stand on the lack of manners in today's society.

Good on them - I say.

And it is none too soon...

It is music to the soul to hear someone pay their respects or show their gratitude after you have gone out of your way to help them (no matter how small). Common courtesy should be automatic and not something we hold back on. It doesn't cost us anything and sometimes when I witness a lack of manners in someone, I take particular note of their body language and attitude. It's their lack of common courtesy I notice about them - not in a positive way, nor a judgmental way, just a 'duly noticed' flag. I begin to ask myself questions about that person...it makes me take a deeper look at that person's character and I begin to wonder about them.

It is the small things in a person's character that adds colour and life to them. Saying thank you and genuinely meaning it, is gracious and builds upon relationship. There are degrees of relationships stemming from a brief encounter with a total stranger who perhaps holds open the door, to the sales assistant who helps with a transaction, to business acquaintances dealt with on a daily, weekly, monthly or annually basis, to friends and family who know us well.

Showing manners is a strength of character and there is no excuse for not using them. It is like a smile ... costs us nothing, but instantly instills and extends warmth and friendliness to a fellow human being.

Why do people withhold their manners? Is it because they just want to be rude? Does their generation mean they find themselves exclusive and therefore have no need to do it anymore? Is it a display of passive/aggressive behaviour...a power trip, or that the person who should be thanked is totally unworthy of acknowledgment? Do we simply undervalue the worth of a service? Is something so menial that it doesn't initiate even a few small words from our mouths?

It is interesting and I agree with the cafe proprietor for refusing to hand over the salad he had just made a rude customer. I'm glad he made a stand. He is a change maker. As he said, I can't change the world, but I can change my world (local area)...good on him. If we all did that, the world would be a far better place.

For many years I have been a primary school teacher and now work as a supply teacher (by choice). Almost every teaching day I am confronted with children and their manners, or their lack of manners...depending on the children and the situation. Hats off to the parents who have made manners a priority in their child/ren's life...and thankfully, there are a high number of them. Sadly though, there are many who don't seem to care.

At the end of the day or week, when I am handing out 'treats' or small awards for positive behaviour that has been displayed in the classroom, it is interesting to note just who says thank you. Amazingly, a high of students number don't exercise their manners when receiving their gift. Is this self absorbed behaviour or an attitude that dictates 'I deserved it so I shouldn't have to thank anybody'? They forget that it was my choice to implement the treat, just as it is a choice for someone to help us or perform a service (even if they get paid to do so), we should still have the good manners to thank them.

'Be thankful in all circumstances...' 1 Thess:18

Degrees of Love

To an outsider looking in, our household is probably very similar to most 'normal' families. We are made up of a mum and dad who have three young adult 'children' (let's face it, they really are 'children' disguised as YA - aren't they?) still living at home. They are my babies...or the remnants of my babies...they just like to drive themselves these days. My husband has been married before and has five adult children from his first marriage. We are a blended family which is pretty 'normal' these days (although, one might challenge me on the word - normal).

We have ups and downs, good times and challenging times, like most. I feel extremely blessed as I love the family we have created. Life is always interesting and each new day uncovers another dimension, another layer of each individual.

I guess I am a bit of a nester. I love having the kids at home, although there are the odd times when I think it is time to find out for themselves what it is really like out there in the big wide world and to really understand and appreciate just what they really have...but having said that - there's plenty of time to discover all that...isn't there???

Well, no ... not really...this year seems destined to be a year of change in our family...and my 'run' of having 'all' my little chickadees home in the roost is drawing to a close. Big changes, adjustments and shifts in dynamics are the upcoming new lessons to be learned.

Excitement is all abuzz in the house...my second daughter (middle child) has decided she wants to travel and live abroad for a year (or so???). I am really excited and think it will be a very positive experience for her. Am I ready for the tearing of the apron strings??? Is a mother ever 'ready' for her child/ren to 'fly the coop?' Most likely not...but I am trying and I've got a whole couple of months to 'condition' myself. I really do feel excited for her, but memories of her first day at Preschool and my hidden tears spring to mind. This child of mine is more than just a daughter...she is a wonderful and thoughtful friend to me too. She is precious (as my other children are) and I am going to miss her. I am going to miss the daily 'small stuff'... the everyday stuff.

I don't kid myself...everyone goes through this and I certainly don't feel sorry for myself. I am shortly going to experience another transition in life and I guess my daughter's departure signals the next stage in my life. I will mourn this passing and move on (as everyone must), but it makes me think back to how my own mother must have felt as her children 'left the roost'.

Our children love us, but I don't think they can ever know a mother's love until they are parents themselves. I mourned the loss of my father deeply. My mother is 'lost' to severe end-stage dementia and when my father passed away, I lost the love of my father. No one loved me more than my father after my mother faded. There are so many degrees of love. Don't get me wrong...I'm not viewing love as a competition. My husband loves me, my children love me, my siblings, family and friends love me ... each at varying degrees...

My kids will leave home, get married and have children of their own (hopefully), as they should. But no one will love them as I do, other than God, and I hope they can tuck that knowledge in their hearts and hold it dear. Their partners will love them, their children will love them dearly, but I will love them like no other till I am no more.

I am going to embrace this new stage that is about to happen with much excitement. The journey is the adventure, not the end. And for all the parents out there who have already had their children leave home, lost their children to misfortune, or are like me, and about to lose their children due to progress, my thoughts and prayers are with you today.

Marley and Me Moments

Those who have already seen the movie 'Marley and Me' will surely relate to my experience yesterday. We are the proud owners of two boisterous, but lovable Old English Sheepdogs, Mitzi and Jelly Beanz (JB)...Mitzi is 8 years old and is the mother of JB who is 2 years old at the end of May.

For anyone who knows Old English Sheepdogs, they are fairly 'high maintenance' in the grooming department and we normally try to maintain their hygiene and general appearance at home, though on the odd occasion, Mitzi has made a few trips to the dog groomers when we have not had the time. JB has only ever experienced our home variety pampering (and loves it, I might add). His instinct tells him how much we love to run a brush and comb through his hair. He really enjoys this special bonding time and looks forward to be pampered.

JB has an interesting little habit of plonking his head right between the legs (just above the knees) of any unsuspecting potential dog lovers who happen to visit with us. This can be a problem if you're short. He simply puts his head there, in that warm, comforting place and waits to be massaged by the visiting knees. He has never been taught to do this. It is just another instinct he has and it generally works in his favour. We alert any new visitors that they in fact could be potentially ambushed in this way...and generally, the rule of thumb is...they are. Most people are good-natured about this, but I am sure any dog behaviourist would seriously doubt the merits of this behaviour. Let's just call him a very 'tactile' puppy...his very own style of 'puppy love'.

After all the rain Brisbane has recently experienced (not to mention the mud the two dogs churn up during their daily games of 'stalk me, chase me, you can't catch me' romps through our trampled garden beds), we decided it was time to call in the professionals. I rang the dog groomers we normally use, but they no longer run the business - retired they told me, but they were able to recommend a lovely lady who was just starting out in her own business, but was very experienced.

So, after arranging an appointment for both dogs, the day arrived and with it, the need to strategize how to get them both over to the groomers. I drive a very cute smallish VW V5 Bora (with leather seats), whilst my husband has a ute (a working man/dogs' vehicle). He always takes the dogs for drives in the ute. We bought them special harnesses the secure them on the back of the tray and they love to go with 'dad' to fetch the paper on the weekends. They stand erect and feel the wind rush through their wild and woolly faces. 'Oh to feel the breeze on one's face...drool ... drool ... drool...' but hey, it's only the ute and it doesn't matter too much. We decided 'dad' would take them to the groomers on the back of the ute (on his way to work), while I followed in the Bora. I needed to meet Sue, introduce the dogs and discuss our requirements.

We arrived all safe and sound and Sue seemed quite excited about her planned day with the dogs. She'd heard good reports about Mitzi and was very positive. I warned her about JB's little 'habit' and that this was his very first visit to the groomers. We weren't too sure how it was all going to go. Sue had already decided she would devote the day to our guys...well, hydrobathing, drying, clipping, and grooming two large Old English Sheepdogs is not the quickest job in the world to do.

I spent a busy day, but I couldn't help wonder how things were going back at the dog groomers. I tried to imagine how JB was coping with all the pampering he would be experiencing. I knew Mitzi (who is quite the 'regal' type) would be on her best behaviour. I wasn't convinced getting them groomed together was the best thing to do and it was really a case of trial and error. Naturally I was hoping for a great day for Sue, but I really wasn't all that confident. They say never work with dogs and kids. Well, I'm a teacher and have survived...just on some days...so ... no...what am I worried about...it's all good...

Time to pick my babies up...I actually didn't quite last for my phone to ring...I just sneaked in before Sue rang me. "How did they go?" I asked nervously...only to be told in a very jovial voice that things went swimmingly...yes, JB spent most of the day with his head stuck between Sue's legs whenever an opportunity presented itself, but both mutts won Sue's heart and we are allowed to come back. I breathed a sigh of relief...'It's only a movie, that "Marley and Me" flick...

However, the trip home was very interesting and certainly reminded me of Marley...picture this...one small to medium sized VW Bora with Mitzi stretched out on her new plush bedroll on the backseat and JB (who is slightly larger than Mitzi) propped up on the passenger seat...a little squishy to say the least and then when he got tired, decided to lay down with two big paws wrapped around the gear shift, resting on the handbrake, dripping saliva onto the carpet...

I made sure JB was in a safe position before making the trip home, but we sure must have looked a sight for anyone who noticed. We all arrived home safe and sound, but after five minutes home...well you can figure it out...

cheers for now