Archive for the ‘Inspiration’ Category

Wonderfully Made

June 25, 2012

I praise You for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Psalm 139:14


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I needed this this morning

October 1, 2011

Last year I began reading the Bible through from Genesis to Revelation.  I was following a programme, but I found it moved too quickly for me.  There were times were I wanted to read more, but mostly, I couldn’t read that much in a day and still have pondering time.

Well, the project is still slowly underway.  Unfortunately, these days, with so many babies sleeping in our bed I don’t get much reading time (or sleeping time for that matter 😉 ) – I always find that I read best in bed.

Well, this morning, despite two littles awake and in action before 6am, I managed a pseudo lie-in (thank you Dora and Wiggles) and I also got some reading time.

I came across this wonderful passage:

“Sing praise to the Lord; tell the wonderful things he has done.  Be glad that we belong to him; let all who worship him rejoice!”  1 Chronicles 16:9-10

Well now, isn’t that just a beautiful way to start the day, and indeed, a long weekend?

But it gets better.  A bit further I found this:

“Save us, O God our Saviour; gather us together; rescue us from the nations, so that we might be thankful”   1 Chronicles 16:35

A-ha!  Now that is what I needed.  I have been really struggling, struggling, struggling lately.  Struggling with the real and imagined demands of my life as a Mum to three littles, a child with a sick Mumma myself, a sister with a sick sister, a grumpy wife to a tired DH and, well, just everything.

But I will be rescued.  I AM rescued, if I will just let it happen.  I am not made for this world, but for the next (and so are you!) so I don’t need to be bogged down, I just need to do what God has called me to do.  Now.  Today.

Excellent news!


July 30, 2011

Today I made Soup. “You mean, ‘soup’”, you say.  No.  I mean Soup.

I am not a fan of soup.  I really don’t get it.  My MIL loves soup.  Oh, I am sure she would deny it.  I am sure she doesn’t even notice.  However, she has a vast repertoire of soups, most without names, and throughout winter at least, lunch and dinner are punctuated between Grace and Main with soup.  Sometimes you even have a choice.

It isn’t that I actively don’t like soup.  (I also like my MIL!)  I just don’t get it.  It really doesn’t do anything for me.

But Soup is different entirely.

Today I made Soup.

My parents used to make Soup.  It was a wonderful weekend food (and aroma) in our home during winter.

It would start the week before.  Mum would boil a chicken.  I never liked the smell of a chicken being boiled, but my heart would start to beat a little faster whenever it happened.  To this day I get a little overly excited at the smell of boiling chicken.  A bit like Pavlov’s Dog, methinks.

A boiling chicken meant two things.

Firstly, we would be getting yummy chicken sandwiches for lunch at school this week.

Secondly, one of the large old peanut jars would soon be sitting in the fridge, filled with hot yellow liquid which would magically divide into golden, gelatinous goop and a hard white layer (later skimmed off).

And what did a jar of stock in the fridge mean?  Next weekend we would be having Soup.

Come Saturday morning, Dad would peel and dice the veges – parsnip, swede, turnip, potato, carrot, celery and onion.  He would chop up the celery leaves (oh, they smell so good!).  He would lightly fry off the onion and then all the goodies would go into the stock pot with a couple of handfuls of barley.  (If we were really lucky, sometimes he would toss in alphabet noodles for a treat.  Can you get alphabet noodles anymore?)  The stock pot would slowly simmer and the aroma would infuse the house.

Aaaah.  The smell of home in winter.

The first serving was Saturday lunch.  By the small bowl served at the start of dinner on Saturday night, the flavour was more developed.  On Sunday, it was served with bread.  And on Sunday night, it was thick and stewy as we finished it off.  Unless of course, we had eaten too much already and it needed to be drastically watered down to go the distance.

As a child, I was sick of Soup by Sunday.  (By then I would even have referred to it merely as ‘soup’).  And sadly, although I loved this Soup, I took it for granted.

As an adult it has an almost spiritual aura about it.  The smells evoke the memories of a happy home, a warmth that was not just from the stock pot, a gathering of family.  I lean over the pot to test the balance of flavours and I think of my brothers and sisters.  I wonder with love what they are doing at that moment.  I remember sharing this with them.  The steam feels like a big hug.

I am delighted today.  My husband and all my children – even the baby just starting “solids” enjoyed Soup.  Hopefully, one day, they will also lean over a pot on bubbling vegetables and think of their loved ones.

I am happy, for today I made Soup.

My Naturalistes – pic heavy

October 17, 2010

Possum is 4 years 5 months

Bandicoot is 2 years 3 months

Now we didn’t spend the entire two weeks inside doing activities.  Despite the rain (and lack of rain-coats, but there you go), we did manage to get out and about quite a bit.  I always love exploring at the beach, and it is even more fun seeing it through the fresh eyes of a child to whom so much is new, or is just connecting with other bits of information locked in their heads.

(Actually, that is something I find really fascinating about Possum at the moment.  He loves learning knew things, but it is really special when he ponders it and then gets that spark as he connects something new with something he already knows and then can come up with his own theories and ideas.)

It is also great fun to delve back into the cobwebbed recesses of our brains when we find something that we knew as kids and haven’t thought about much, since.  There were plenty of opportunities for this, too.

For example – these funny things growing on the rocks.  (We can’t remember or find the name of them – if you know, please tell me!)  When the waves go over the rocks, they drink in the water.  Once they have passed they shoot it out again!

DH remembered these from his boyhood and enjoyed teaching the boys how to squeeze them to make them fire.

I was much more excited to find these:

These are where sandcrabs have dug to make their homes beneath the surface.  As a toddler I used to love sticking my toes down the holes and seeing if I could get a nip.  Bandicoot thought that was hilarious fun; Possum thought we were both a bit crazy.  Look at those perfectly rolled balls of sand.

Possum was far more intrigued with all the varieties of seaweed and seaplants that we found.  He hadn’t realised that there were multiple kinds.  He was less impressed that I wouldn’t let him keep all his samples.

Bandicoot surprised me by preferring to hunt for shells.  The prettier, the pinker or the purpler the better!

Sandpools and rockpools…

One day there were lots of jelly fish washed up on the beach…

Bloodworms or crabs…

Pine nuts, anyone?  This was the ground cover between the Norfolk Pines.  We collected some of the nuts and peeled back the layers to see where pine nuts come from.

A grevillia from the yard where we were staying.

Remember all that rain we mentioned?  Well the place we stayed during the second week was right on the river mouth.  When we arrived, the beaches were thick with foam from the mixture of fresh and sea water.

Patterns in the sand from the waves.  

Beachcombing with Daddy.

Down to the River they did go, Wibble Wobble to and fro’

September 29, 2010

Possum is 4 years 4 months

Bandicoot is 2 years 2 months

We are really blessed where we live.  We have a number of National Parks nearby.  This park lies enroute between our home and DH’s office (and many other places), so we often drive past it.

(Yes, Bandicoot is blurry in this picture.  You should see the ones I did not upload.  Keeping still is NOT his forte.)

On this particular day we chose to play in a grassed picnic area near one of the creeks.  The boys had great fun, running around and exploring.  (And dare I say it?  Dropping rocks in the water!)

Just before it was time for us to leave a family of ducks came swimming up the river.  Have a look at the size of this!

I couldn’t believe it.  22 ducklings!  That poor Mummy and Daddy duck.  They looked quite young, so this is possibly their first season as parents, but I was so impressed with the way they watched them and herded them, making sure no one was left behind.  Then they took turns in being sentinel each while the other ate.  Really an inspiration.

They boys – both duck mad – loved watching them, even if they didn’t grasp the amazing size of the family.

Boy Food

September 14, 2010

‘cos sometimes this is what you have to do to get a kid to eat….

Learning Men’s Business

September 14, 2010

Possum is 4 years 4 months

Chicken is 2 years 2 months

There are certain things in life that seem to require an amount of testosterone.  Washing cars requires more than I possess!

Here are a few pics of the boys learning the joys of polishing the car with their Daddy.  They really enjoyed the afternoon.

Chicken spent a lot of the next day checking out his reflection in the duco, and then holding up various toys to check their reflections, too.

Do The Next Thing

January 25, 2010

A poem.  If you know the poet, please let me know…

Do The Next Thing

At an old English parsonage down by the sea,
there came in the twilight a message to me.
Its quaint Saxon legend deeply engraven
that, as it seems to me, teaching from heaven.
And all through the hours the quiet words ring,
like a low inspiration, ‘Do the next thing.

Many a questioning, many a fear,
many a doubt hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from heaven,
time, opportunity, guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrow, child of the King,
trust that with Jesus; do the next thing.

Do it immediately, do it with prayer,
do it reliantly, casting all care.
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand,
who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
leave all resultings; do the next thing.

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
working or suffering be thy demeanor,
in His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
the light of His countenance, be thy psalm.
Do the next thing.