From the Blog
This post is a little different to normal as today I’m joining in with Emily Freeman and her Let’s share what we learned in January spot. Read below for some things I have learnt this Summer Down-Under…
“Put me down!” she said. “But I just want to look at you.” I squeezed her hard, spun her around to the semi-melancholic soundtrack of her (current) favourite film, Inside Out. She’d woken early, and the boys were still sleeping. I could see she was tired, but too restless to go back to sleep, so as a once off (okay, not that once off, but not an every-day occurrence either) I’d offered her movie-time in the morning.
I used to think I liked surprises until one day I was out at night and there was a phone call. And in an instant everything changed. What I knew to be true before was true no more. It took maybe ten years for my mind and heart to catch up. For a while, phonecalls at unexpected times –like late at night –sent me spinning. If we’re honest, sometimes they still do.
Just one more Sunday… This coming Sunday is our family’s final Sunday at the church we have been a part of for five years.
It’s raining buckets in NSW. On the coast. In the mountains. On rooftops, and on tent-tops, on holidayers with umbrellas, and on every-dayers locked indoors.
Like any good (recovering) perfectionist I began 2016 all thirty-six hours ago with plans and intentions. The official, grown-up name: resolutions. Precariously perched on the freshly painted, unsullied doorstep of a new year, I looked back over my shoulder nostalgically at all that had now passed, the beautiful and the baffling, the tried and the trying, the welcome and the woeful of 2015, and I thought to myself — how can I make 2016 better?
‘I want to be that girl’, she said, ‘that girl in the picture.’ It was a rare moment of peace in a busy month. Isn’t that the irony? December, the advent season, the traditional holiday period, a temporary cessation of work, celebration of the incarnation, is filled to the brim with obligation. Not that it’s all bad. Most of what goes on is very very good. Perhaps it’s the internal pressure that really bites, the pressure we put upon ourselves. The endless to-do lists we compose in the middle of sleepless nights.
Our W. He’s our little charmer, our easy-going one. In a family of introverts, he’s our extrovert. So much so that Dr M and I often pause and look at each other and exclaim: ‘Where did he come from.’
This morning the kids found a baby bird hiding under one of the outdoor chairs in the garden. Though wild, it acted tame, even allowing the kids to pat and stroke its little back, all the time keeping its soft wings held close to its side. ‘Lets call it princess,’ suggested W (princesses being the in thing in the garden lately). Thankfully, they decided on Benny. It soon became apparent why little Benny bird was so quietly and complacently settled under the seat.
Memories are never just free-floating. They have backdrops. They happen in place and time. Memories of people take place in the context of other people. Some memories stand out more than others, are more defining than others. Because they helped define you. And there are some memories you don’t ever want to stop remembering. It’s these memories you want to take with you into the future. To pass on to future generations. Because there’s just so much goodness there to be had.
This post is a little different to normal as today I’m joining in with Emily Freeman and her Let’s share what we learned in January spot. Read below for some things I have learnt this Summer Down-Under…
“Put me down!” she said. “But I just want to look at you.” I squeezed her hard, spun her around to the semi-melancholic soundtrack of her (current) favourite film, Inside Out. She’d woken early, and the boys were still sleeping. I could see she was tired, but too restless to go back to sleep, so as a once off (okay, not that once off, but not an every-day occurrence either) I’d offered her movie-time in the morning.
I used to think I liked surprises until one day I was out at night and there was a phone call. And in an instant everything changed. What I knew to be true before was true no more. It took maybe ten years for my mind and heart to catch up. For a while, phonecalls at unexpected times –like late at night –sent me spinning. If we’re honest, sometimes they still do.
Just one more Sunday… This coming Sunday is our family’s final Sunday at the church we have been a part of for five years.
It’s raining buckets in NSW. On the coast. In the mountains. On rooftops, and on tent-tops, on holidayers with umbrellas, and on every-dayers locked indoors.
Like any good (recovering) perfectionist I began 2016 all thirty-six hours ago with plans and intentions. The official, grown-up name: resolutions. Precariously perched on the freshly painted, unsullied doorstep of a new year, I looked back over my shoulder nostalgically at all that had now passed, the beautiful and the baffling, the tried and the trying, the welcome and the woeful of 2015, and I thought to myself — how can I make 2016 better?
‘I want to be that girl’, she said, ‘that girl in the picture.’ It was a rare moment of peace in a busy month. Isn’t that the irony? December, the advent season, the traditional holiday period, a temporary cessation of work, celebration of the incarnation, is filled to the brim with obligation. Not that it’s all bad. Most of what goes on is very very good. Perhaps it’s the internal pressure that really bites, the pressure we put upon ourselves. The endless to-do lists we compose in the middle of sleepless nights.
Our W. He’s our little charmer, our easy-going one. In a family of introverts, he’s our extrovert. So much so that Dr M and I often pause and look at each other and exclaim: ‘Where did he come from.’
This morning the kids found a baby bird hiding under one of the outdoor chairs in the garden. Though wild, it acted tame, even allowing the kids to pat and stroke its little back, all the time keeping its soft wings held close to its side. ‘Lets call it princess,’ suggested W (princesses being the in thing in the garden lately). Thankfully, they decided on Benny. It soon became apparent why little Benny bird was so quietly and complacently settled under the seat.
Memories are never just free-floating. They have backdrops. They happen in place and time. Memories of people take place in the context of other people. Some memories stand out more than others, are more defining than others. Because they helped define you. And there are some memories you don’t ever want to stop remembering. It’s these memories you want to take with you into the future. To pass on to future generations. Because there’s just so much goodness there to be had.
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