A little light reading and a little more...

I love reading and usually have a pile of books waiting to be read sitting beside my bed.  I have a somewhat eclectic taste.  I do enjoy a soothing book – a book that is easy to read when nothing terribly bad happens.  Why?  Sometimes I feel the weight of sadness in other people’s lives.  This last week has been particularly hard – and I am only a bystander. 

I have spent time with a woman who lost her eleven year old daughter last December, a woman who has just lost her much longed for baby who died in the womb at 19 weeks, a couple who were struggling to emotionally connect in their marriage and I listened to hurts expressed, a woman whose husband had just lost his job and this is not all.  Sometimes life is hard and sad and sometimes I feel a little overwhelmed and swamped.

Reading light books sometimes helps me and gives me some space to collect my thoughts.  I have just finished reading a series of three such books.  I suspect I am not the only woman who craves to read a book that is pleasant company.  I have a number of women who ask me for suggestions of books to read and they often say “I just want a nice book to read”. I am often lending my books to friends and lose track of them for months at a time and hope they will return.

The Elm Creek Quilt series by Jennifer Chiaverini is not demanding and utterly enjoyable.  Each volume contains three stories.  Recently, I was given the second series as a gift from my work colleagues – they loved the look of the cover and know that I am a mad quilter.  These stories are based around a group of women who live in rural America who are friends and share a passion for creating quilts. 

Mostly, the stories revolve around one particular woman and events that are happening in her life – the stuff of life is present – relationship issues, infertility, wild children and other issues, however, they are stories in which the women survive these events because of their friendship and they are prepared to face up to weaknesses in their own self that they can change.  There is much detail about quilts, so if you have zero interest in quilting, you would probably hate this series.

I found one of the stories The Runaway Quilt particularly interesting, as it explores the family history of one the characters – Sylvia, in which she discovers that her ancestors were involved with smuggling slaves from the South up to the Canadian border to safety.  A particular quilt would be hung on the washing line, indicating that the house was a safe house for slaves to take refuge.  These events took place just before the American Civil War – it is a time in history that I find quite fascinating.

This week I took refuge in these stories.   To be honest, this is not my only solution to escaping life when it becomes overwhelming.  I have recently returned to the gym and regular walking exercise and this helped enormously. 

I do also seek refuge in God’s word – particularly the Psalms.  This last week I have been reading Psalm 77.  The voice of the Psalmist expresses his distress – he feels rejected and abandoned.

“Will the Lord reject forever?

Will he never show his favour again?

Has his unfailing love vanished forever?

Has his promise failed for all time?

Has God forgotten to be merciful?

Has he in anger withheld his compassion”? vv 7-9

These are deep questions that we all have from time to time.  Last week, I felt this, not so much for myself but for my friends.  There was nothing I could do to fix any of the situations other than sit and listen.  However, the Psalmist turns and remembers what he knows to be true about God and reminds himself of how God rescued His people – with His mighty arm, he redeemed the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.  He remembers how the Red Sea parted so His people could walk safely through the waters.

“Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen. 

You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.”  v19-20

God’s footprints are there – we just can’t see them.  I find that immensely reassuring.  This blog post is not just about a little light reading at all.  It is about things that help me walk with friends during times of crises.

Easter Day

This is our very newest Godson Jacob and we attended his baptism today. Three adults and four children were baptised during the service and it involved a rainwater tank that took five and a half hours to fill!  Jacob had water splashed over his head by his Dad, the Pastor at his church - it was a moving event - Easter day seems a fitting occasion to celebrate new life, new birth and for the parents, godparents and church family to make promises on behalf of the children to be involved in their Christian upbringing through prayer and modeling the love of God.  I thought that Keith and I were too old to be asked to be Godparents ever again, so we were honoured to be invited to be a part of Jacob's life.  Keith was asked to pray and this was his prayer:

Heavenly Father, We thank you for your gift of life and especially for your gift of new life through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.  In your grace and by the power of your Holy Spirit, please make the promises made on behalf of Jacob a reality in his life.  Enable Steve and Naomi to raise him in the fear and nurture of the Lord that he might know the freedom and joy of sins forgiven and ever live for your praise and glory.  Amen.

It has been a special Easter weekend.  Yesterday our family had brunch with our friends Steve and Naomi and their boys.  Michael cooked us his scrambled eggs which are pretty fantastic.  Then our family friend Jemima and Susannah spent the afternoon cooking up a three course feast which we shared with Jemima's family last night.  It has been far too long since our families have spent time together, and we all enjoyed this precious time.  The girls did a great job and seemed very organised and professional.  We have suggested to Ben and Johnny that they attempt a similar banquet.  I have been through five dozen eggs this Easter - we have done so much cooking!  I am not sure I have been through that many eggs ever!  Eggs are a good thing to cook at this time of year - they symbolise new life.
It has been a while since I have spent so much time with my children.  On Thursday night, we ate our traditional passover meal with my sister and her family before attending a special service of readings at our church.  We all went to church again on Friday morning before taking lunch over to Keith's parents place.  Keith's Mum is home from hospital and making good progress.  She has good days and not so good days, but she enjoys seeing her family and enjoyed sitting in the sunshine eating lunch with us.  That afternoon I got to spend time with my friend Nicky who was visiting from Melbourne.  She was up with one of her sons for a couple of days.  We sat in the garden and wished there was a group we could attend like the Friday Morning Group we used to attend which helped us as young Mums.  We would love to talk about living with adult children and nurturing their independence without losing sleep or hair.
I am not used to doing so much socialising, so tomorrow, I plan to sleep.

The Doorbell Rang

This book was a great favourite of mine when my children were small.  It is quirky. Imagine the excitement of two children being given a plate filled with freshly baked choc chip cookies, and working out they can have six each, only to have to share them with others?   Each time the doorbell rings, the number of cookies they can each have diminishes.   But the doorbell keeps ringing and that clean kitchen floor gets muddier and muddier.
My children are much older, but our doorbell rings - often.  Sometimes I come home never quite knowing who will be there.  I rarely have choc chip cookies around, or muffins, or anything much, but the kettle is often put on and a cup of tea is made and shared.  Susannah makes the best choc chip cookies in our family and we all enjoy them when she has baked.
There is a sense of chaos in this domestic scene which resonates with the domestic chaos I regularly find in my home - bags left on the floor, a pile of shoes by the door, piles of mugs, glasses and plates beside the kitchen sink, a freshly washed kitchen floor no longer quite so sparkly clean.
How can I complain?  Didn't I teach my children about generosity, sharing and hospitality?  Isn't this a book we read again and again?  I now watch them welcome their friends and neighbours into our home filling it will laughter, noise and chaos and still the doorbell rings and I am glad.

Paul Assef

Little did I imagine that barely an hour after I wrote my last post, this giant of a man would die - snap - just like that!
Paul was a man who loved God and lived his life dedicated to serving His God with a big big heart. He was loved by many - his wife, his children, his mother, his sisters and their families, his friends and so many more....
I was on the edge of Paul's life, but whenever I met him, he greeted me as if I was his best friend.  He was so warm, welcoming and gregarious.  He embraced life to the fulness and drew others with him.
Paul's eldest daughter Jess married Simon a year ago amidst much joy and celebration.  This is a photo I took at their wedding and it captures Paul looking with pride at the new couple.  I was Jess' age when I married and a year later my father died, so it seems like I am watching a replay of my own life before my very eyes.
In the hours after his death, I cried out "why?"  and the following day after Paul's death, my devotional book focused on Deuteronomy 29:29 - "The secret things belong to the Lord our God"... I was patiently reminded me that I am not God, and that there is much in life that seems unfathomable and illogical.  A better question to ask perhaps is "do I still trust in God's goodness and believe that He is a great God?"
I have returned to Psalm 121 in the days since and lifted my eyes to the hills - to the Lord - who is there watching me and watching Paul's family and friends as they face life without this man.  There is nothing in life that prepares us for times when tragedies such as this take place, except for knowing that the unexpected can and will happen and usually when we least expect it.  And when it happens to lift our eyes heavenwards.
Two of my children travelled to Moree to attend his funeral.  They are sad.  Their uni friends are sad - they knew and loved Paul deeply and were impressed with how he lived his life.  Paul's children are returning to Sydney soon, as has his sister Rhonda and her husband Phil and their children.  All I can do is walk with each of them through this time of deep deep sadness and grief, and I can pray.
On the day my father died, I received a letter in the mail written by my friend Melinda who lived in the United States.  She had posted it two weeks earlier.  She wrote out Psalm 91:

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.'....
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.....
If you make the Most High your dwelling -
even the Lord, who is my refuge -
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
Because he loves me, says the Lord,
I will rescue him;
I will protect him,
for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."  Psalm 91

My father had not been able to speak much in the final days of his life, but these verses spoke to me and reassured me that my Dad had called upon the Lord in his final hours of life.  I spoke with Dan, Paul's son last week and he told me that knowing that his Dad was in heaven helped him enormously.  This conversation took me back to those early days when I was numb with shock and overcome with grief and reminded me that this truth also carried me.  I look back now and know that the Lord used His angels to carry me through this time that nothing had prepared me to face.  I am praying that those angels will be with Paul's family as they resume life.
The jigsaw of their life has one huge piece missing which will never be replaced.  They will learn to live without him, but there will be daily, constant reminders of him - his laughter, his joy, his protectiveness, his clutter, his love, his smell, his voice, his smile and his touch.

Ely and beyond

A week has passed and this has been my first opportunity to put pen to paper - or fingers to keyboard. We are sitting in Hong Kong Airport, waiting to board our flight. So much has happened.

On our final day in Bury, Keith and I decided to drive over to Ely to explore the Cathedral and see where Oliver Cromwell lived. It was a glorious final day to be in England. Not a cloud in the sky, and it was almost balmy in temperature. Ely Cathedral is set upon a hill and it stands among the fels - tall and majestic and visible for miles. The late afternoon sunlight made the cathedral sparkle. It is a Normal building that is austere and plain inside. I loved the floors with its simple green and red marble floor. There were floors with rustic quirky paving stones. The ceilings and stained glass windows were majestic. The simplicity of the building allows the colours from the windows to dominate and shine. We enjoyed wandering around and found the burial place of a bishop who had met with Ricky and engaged in vigorous debate - both disagreeing with one another.

We then went and wandered past the home of Oliver Cromwell. Outside there is a seat with Mrs Cromwell's favourite recipe for Roast Eel. I decided to pass on jotting it down. We drove back to Bury watching the sun set. The colours were soft and muted and seemed to capture the soft light we had experienced during our time in England.

We had a final dinner out with Susan and Ricky who treated us to a feast. It was a fitting final evening after a wonderful week staying with them - we shared so many stories and laughter and fun. It was a truly memorable visit. We were up at 5am the next morning to drive to Heathrow.

We watched the sunrise this time and it was a beautiful way to leave England. Twelve hours later we arrived in Hong Kong to bright warm sunshine, heat, freeways, bridges, noise, highrise towers in overstated abundance, people and people and colour. It was a completely overwhelming arrival and felt like we had moved from the fridge into a simmering wok. We found our Hotel - the YMCA which is located right on the harbour at Kowloon. My friend Melinda met us there a couple of hours after our arrival. What a joyful and happy reunion we shared!

We set off in our coolest clothes and sunglasses and caught the ferry across to the Island and then walked up to the cable car to travel to the Peak. The glorious weather had followed us and Hong Kong was fairly clear. The assent was steep and I wanted to keep my eyes closed, but refrained as the view was spectacular.

Hong Kong may be densely populated and have more high rise buildings in a smaller space than anywhere else in the world, but its harbour and mountains seems to give it an air of order and beauty. We walked beneath tall trees that gave us a sense of coolness. I couldn't get over the walkways that join places and buildings. We were able to walk from the harbour to the cable car - at least one km, and not cross a single busy road.

Once at the top, we sat and marvelled at the view, the size of this city and the number of people who inhabit and visit this tiny space. We sat and talked and talked and laughed and talked some more. We haven't seen Melinda for two years, so it was good to catch up on her life and her family.

We watched the sun setting over the ocean, visited the Dymocks bookstore and browsed and finally had dinner at a Japanese restaurant overlooking the harbour. The outlook was glorious - Hong Kong at night is almost magic with the lights and different colours on the buildings. We felt we had arrived in a tropical hot pot of vibrant colour. My brain felt overstimulated and I longed for bed.

Durham

Our love hate relationship continued with the GPS system. I have decided that I much prefer a good map and use my own judgment. We drove up the A1 as fast as legally permissible to meet Jess and Byron at a particular corner on Saddler Street. I had no map of Durham, again, not a wise thing for a tourist, I had looked at a google map, but when faced with the streets and the city, confusion reigned. We were late for our meeting and were beginning to stress.

We found a place to park, found a public library who gave us a map and good directions and ran. Jess and Byron had actually rung Michael to get our mobile phone numbers - it would have been 11.30 pm but they figured he would probably be awake. It was lovely to see them and we had a wonderful time with them.

After a sandwich lunch, we headed to the top of the hill for the Cathedral. Jess and Byron had spent the previous day and night on Lindisfarne Island and had learnt all about St Cuthbert who had been a bishop of northern England in the 1100s, and had travelled extensively evangelising. On his death, he had been buried at Lindisfarne, but ten years later, his coffin had been raised. It was discovered that his body was still intact, thus beginning the process to make him a saint. It could have been the cold that kept his body from decaying - who knows, but it was fascinating to find out about him and the history of this area after his death.

St Cuthbert is now buried at Durham Cathedral. It again is a massive building, dominating the landscape. It stands next door to the Castle. This castle had been built at the time of William the Conquerer, to protect his northern lands. It has been a "working" castle ever since - either with soldiers, princes or prince bishops residing. Today it houses university students and the university. It is in constant use 24/7. This part of the city is almost on an island as the river curves around it on three sides. Sadly, no photos. After browsing the cathedral and a fascinating exhibition of historical items relating to the history of St Cuthbert, we did a tour of the castle. The kitchen has remained in the same place and the original fireplaces still exist. The original kitchen bench stands in another part of the castle - a magnificent piece of wood, with many memories on its surfaces - if only they could speak!

The most senior students are privileged to live in a certain part of the castle. They are without running water or bathroom - meaning they have to go down a very narrow flight of stairs to a nearby bathroom. All the students must robe for dinner every night and are fined if they get up during the meal, if their phone rings or they don't follow protocol and the fines are fairly hefty. They also have a 10 pm curfew and the gates are locked. There is a tiny door in the large door and latecomers need to crawl through this. Imagine this happening at Moore College!

We had an afternoon immersed in history and each of us were engrossed and enthralled. After a welcome cup of tea and hot chocolate, we said good bye and went our separate ways. What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon with friends who we won't see again for three years.

You've got snail mail!

I spent today making a retro card pack for snail mail. It is for a good friend who is turning 50 and we are going to celebrate with her tonight. I was inspired by Soulemama who designed this and also put the pattern onto the web. I had seen her creation - she has called it a gratitude wrap and thought I would love to make some just like hers, but using different fabric.

I had bought some fabric from Superbuzzy on the internet, that I thought would be perfect. The fabric arrived a week later, and I have had much pleasure looking at it and planning lots of projects.

I make my own cards, and this is a wonderful way of packaging them as a gift. I walked to the shops this morning and bought the note book, pen and postage stamps to put in it. What a lovely thing to take out with you, and you want to write someone a quick card or remind yourself to do something, and you have all the bits and pieces needed - there are often "waiting times" in the day that can be filled with writing a quick thank you or a quick "I have been thinking of you" card, and then you pop into that red box and it arrives the next day...."you've got snail mail".


What a fun way to spend a day! A visit to the gym, a brisk walk on a glorious winter's day and then home to create - and complete a project to give to a dear friend tonight when we celebrate her birthday.