Have I told you about my Nanna and Pop?
They ‘popped in’ for lunch today (which they bought from the local yummy spot) driving at least an hour out of their way to do it.
Reason?
“We heard your week had been a bit hard and I just wanted to give you a hug,” said my Nan.
I love my grandparents.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Patience, patience, patience…
I’ve been reading 1 Thessalonians. A very wonderful little book.
But this verse got the better of me the other day.
1 Thessalonians 5:14: “…warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak. Be patient with everyone.”
It sounds straightforward enough. But sometimes I can’t help getting confused about the difference between being idle and being weak. Or the difference between disheartened and disruptive.
Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t actually warned the weak and the disheartened, and encouraged the idle and the disruptive!
The rest of the verse is a great challenge to me. Patience with people, especially idle, disruptive, and weak people is not one of my top talents. And I even find it hard to be patient with those who are disheartened among us.
But this verse got the better of me the other day.
1 Thessalonians 5:14: “…warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak. Be patient with everyone.”
It sounds straightforward enough. But sometimes I can’t help getting confused about the difference between being idle and being weak. Or the difference between disheartened and disruptive.
Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t actually warned the weak and the disheartened, and encouraged the idle and the disruptive!
The rest of the verse is a great challenge to me. Patience with people, especially idle, disruptive, and weak people is not one of my top talents. And I even find it hard to be patient with those who are disheartened among us.
Time to toss the toxic
I’ll let you into a secret. Teenage girls are the biggest whingers in the world. Their tongues can be positively toxic. I ought to know – I was one once.
When I was fifteen I made a very momentous decision. It came from sitting around many meal tables at boarding school with my high school peers. I began to notice that the majority of our conversation was basically whingeing.
Whingeing can take many forms: complaining about injustices, feeling hard done by, recounting past annoyances, finding fault with food/friends/fashion victims, or just plain old vicious payouts of other people. We got a little bit of each into our conversation every meal.
I decided that the whingeing was getting me down, and I didn’t want to do it any more, so I would say only positive things. For a while, it made a difference, and turned our meal conversations around.
I remembered this the other day when I started listening to my words again. In recent weeks I’ve been whingeing. There’s really no other way to say it.
So it’s time to get back to speaking positives, making my words uplifting and finding the joy in the every day. Because there really is plenty of joy to be found!
How can I do this? In my own strength, I find it really hard. But, surprise surprise, God’s into that stuff, so he helps if you ask him, which I did, and he did!
When I was fifteen I made a very momentous decision. It came from sitting around many meal tables at boarding school with my high school peers. I began to notice that the majority of our conversation was basically whingeing.
Whingeing can take many forms: complaining about injustices, feeling hard done by, recounting past annoyances, finding fault with food/friends/fashion victims, or just plain old vicious payouts of other people. We got a little bit of each into our conversation every meal.
I decided that the whingeing was getting me down, and I didn’t want to do it any more, so I would say only positive things. For a while, it made a difference, and turned our meal conversations around.
I remembered this the other day when I started listening to my words again. In recent weeks I’ve been whingeing. There’s really no other way to say it.
So it’s time to get back to speaking positives, making my words uplifting and finding the joy in the every day. Because there really is plenty of joy to be found!
How can I do this? In my own strength, I find it really hard. But, surprise surprise, God’s into that stuff, so he helps if you ask him, which I did, and he did!
Monday, January 15, 2007
A recent family snap
Just thought I'd celebrate the fact that we got all five of us in one camera frame at one time!
Women are more complicated
Did you know that the state of a woman’s health, including things like cholesterol levels and heart conditions, is directly connected to the state of her marriage?
Data from a variety of sources suggest that women are more vulnerable to suffer the health costs of a rocky marriage than their husbands.
Men don’t seem to be affected in the same way by the ups and downs of a relationship. As a group, men appear to experience a health benefit, just from being married.
The more pleased a woman is with her marriage, the better her health is. In one study, when a woman enjoyed the time she spent with her partner, her medical data told the story. Levels of blood pressure, glucose and bad cholesterol were lower for the satisfied women than for those unhappy in their marriages.
* I pinched all this from Daniel Goleman’s Social Intelligence. An intriguing read.
Data from a variety of sources suggest that women are more vulnerable to suffer the health costs of a rocky marriage than their husbands.
Men don’t seem to be affected in the same way by the ups and downs of a relationship. As a group, men appear to experience a health benefit, just from being married.
The more pleased a woman is with her marriage, the better her health is. In one study, when a woman enjoyed the time she spent with her partner, her medical data told the story. Levels of blood pressure, glucose and bad cholesterol were lower for the satisfied women than for those unhappy in their marriages.
* I pinched all this from Daniel Goleman’s Social Intelligence. An intriguing read.
who do you look like?
If you’re in a happy marriage, you’ll end up looking like your partner.
Don’t laugh – it’s been found in a study that couples who live happily together end up resembling each other.
It’s because people in a cordial relationship tend to unconsciously copy each other’s facial expressions. As parallel sets of muscles are strengthened in unison, this gradually molds similar lines, wrinkles and ridges, making the two faces appear more alike.
The study found that the greater the facial similarity, the happier the couples reported being in their marriages.
Now I want to know if they’ve done studies on dogs and dog owners who look alike… and why!
Don’t laugh – it’s been found in a study that couples who live happily together end up resembling each other.
It’s because people in a cordial relationship tend to unconsciously copy each other’s facial expressions. As parallel sets of muscles are strengthened in unison, this gradually molds similar lines, wrinkles and ridges, making the two faces appear more alike.
The study found that the greater the facial similarity, the happier the couples reported being in their marriages.
Now I want to know if they’ve done studies on dogs and dog owners who look alike… and why!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Very very human
There are some days where I just kind of bounce along. Everything goes well. It's all easy. I love everything, and everything loves me.
Then there are the days when I groan inwardly, lay my head on the floor, kitchen bench or other appropriate surface at hand and truly ask myself, "How can I go on?" It's times like that I just have to think 'an hour at a time' and ask for God's help.
Being honest, I think the second kind of day is outweighing the first at the moment.
But I know that it goes with being new and starting again in a new town (and being a little bit lonely). It goes with school holidays (being out of routine and having extra children on hand all day). And it goes with the normal challenges of having small children, plus one with special needs, and the competing demands they bring to each day.
I'm just waiting for it all to pick up. I know it usually takes about 6 to 8 months in a new place before I start to feel like I'm fitting in and getting to know people. School holidays will eventually end, and I'm getting my plan together for good days with the little boys.
If you're having a similar day, email me!
Then there are the days when I groan inwardly, lay my head on the floor, kitchen bench or other appropriate surface at hand and truly ask myself, "How can I go on?" It's times like that I just have to think 'an hour at a time' and ask for God's help.
Being honest, I think the second kind of day is outweighing the first at the moment.
But I know that it goes with being new and starting again in a new town (and being a little bit lonely). It goes with school holidays (being out of routine and having extra children on hand all day). And it goes with the normal challenges of having small children, plus one with special needs, and the competing demands they bring to each day.
I'm just waiting for it all to pick up. I know it usually takes about 6 to 8 months in a new place before I start to feel like I'm fitting in and getting to know people. School holidays will eventually end, and I'm getting my plan together for good days with the little boys.
If you're having a similar day, email me!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
public welcome... public humiliation
Our first official service at our new church was memorable. Mostly for everyone else. And mostly because they couldn't hear themselves think over the raucous screams of the Autistic Spectrum three year old during communion.
Yes, public humiliation was the name of the game today. Our official welcome up the front was lovely and we nearly got away with appearing like a sweet family, complete with three quite well-behaved children.
But then came communion, and daddy disappeared from three year old's view - to help up the front - just doing his job.
"Daddy? Daddy! DADDDY! WHERE's DAD?"
He couldn't have been louder if he tried - he nearly drowned out the Pie Jesu on the pipe organ. I thought I'd better take him up for communion so he could see Daddy, but he escaped up to the front, out of my reach, dodging the lovely elderly folk with walking frames and sticks who were returning from taking part in the bread and wine.
By the time I got to him, I'd mucked up the queue, and the order of the communion servers. I decided I'd better take him outside - who knows what he might have done next? - so picked him up under one arm, the baby under the other and dodged my way down the aisle again, mouthing 'sorry, sorry' to everyone I passed, all while he continued to yell at full throttle, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! No!"
Talk about making an entrance.
It took him fully half an hour to calm down outside, most of which time he screamed in my ears as I tried to cuddle him. When finally he was happy and the service had finished, everyone I spoke to said as their opening words to me, "Don't worry. We're not worried. You don't have to be worried." Which was nice of them. But it just shows how much of a performance we actually did put on.
Yes, public humiliation was the name of the game today. Our official welcome up the front was lovely and we nearly got away with appearing like a sweet family, complete with three quite well-behaved children.
But then came communion, and daddy disappeared from three year old's view - to help up the front - just doing his job.
"Daddy? Daddy! DADDDY! WHERE's DAD?"
He couldn't have been louder if he tried - he nearly drowned out the Pie Jesu on the pipe organ. I thought I'd better take him up for communion so he could see Daddy, but he escaped up to the front, out of my reach, dodging the lovely elderly folk with walking frames and sticks who were returning from taking part in the bread and wine.
By the time I got to him, I'd mucked up the queue, and the order of the communion servers. I decided I'd better take him outside - who knows what he might have done next? - so picked him up under one arm, the baby under the other and dodged my way down the aisle again, mouthing 'sorry, sorry' to everyone I passed, all while he continued to yell at full throttle, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! No!"
Talk about making an entrance.
It took him fully half an hour to calm down outside, most of which time he screamed in my ears as I tried to cuddle him. When finally he was happy and the service had finished, everyone I spoke to said as their opening words to me, "Don't worry. We're not worried. You don't have to be worried." Which was nice of them. But it just shows how much of a performance we actually did put on.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
so many books, so little time
The gorgeous little Mittagong library is literally one minute's walk away from our new house. And it's more of a temptation than I should admit.
Currently I'm only a quarter of the way through Social Intelligence, which is great. But I got sidetracked by drink me, by Skye Rogers, sitting up on the biography shelf, just past the children's section.
drink me is what the writer calls 'a memoir of a relationship' and chronicles the beginning, the middle and the end of her live-in relationship with an alcoholic boyfriend.
She's a troubled person who attracts another troubled person. Trouble is, he's looking to bury his troubles with alcohol, while she's digging hers out of the ground and bringing them to light.
It's an interesting story of how relationships work, and then don't work. It's an interesting story of how people get on certain paths and then crash.
As I'm reading this, I thank God for his changing work in my life. (I would say every day, but I think I notice it more on a monthly or yearly basis. It's slow, but it's there.) Forgiveness, salvation, redemption - these are all things that mean we go to heaven to be with God, but they do so much now in changing the way we live today.
Currently I'm only a quarter of the way through Social Intelligence, which is great. But I got sidetracked by drink me, by Skye Rogers, sitting up on the biography shelf, just past the children's section.
drink me is what the writer calls 'a memoir of a relationship' and chronicles the beginning, the middle and the end of her live-in relationship with an alcoholic boyfriend.
She's a troubled person who attracts another troubled person. Trouble is, he's looking to bury his troubles with alcohol, while she's digging hers out of the ground and bringing them to light.
It's an interesting story of how relationships work, and then don't work. It's an interesting story of how people get on certain paths and then crash.
As I'm reading this, I thank God for his changing work in my life. (I would say every day, but I think I notice it more on a monthly or yearly basis. It's slow, but it's there.) Forgiveness, salvation, redemption - these are all things that mean we go to heaven to be with God, but they do so much now in changing the way we live today.
Domestic goddess
There's something about being in the country, having a great kitchen and having a seven year old desperately keen to help make things for our 'restaurant' which is bringing out the experimental cook in me.
It's also the fact that the three year old is now on a gluten free diet, and gluten free food is v-e-r-y ex-pen-sive! I have shuddered at our grocery bills the last two weeks, and I know it's time for old fashioned 'mom' values and know-how to kick in.
Thus today, I have made my own yoghurt. And mixed up a container of special chai tea to serve to guests. And juiced carrots, cabbage, kiwifruit, pear and next-door neighbour plums together in a special 'healthy' concoction for the child who refuses all vegetables. And this week we baked cornbread, banana muffins and cranberry-pistachio loaf together. (I think she's mostly keen to lick the bowl.)
For the curious, here's the chai tea mix:
3 tbsps or so of milk powder
1/4 tsp ground cardamum
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp all spice
Shake it all up and add a teaspoon or so to a mug of hot black tea with sugar. mmmm.
It's also the fact that the three year old is now on a gluten free diet, and gluten free food is v-e-r-y ex-pen-sive! I have shuddered at our grocery bills the last two weeks, and I know it's time for old fashioned 'mom' values and know-how to kick in.
Thus today, I have made my own yoghurt. And mixed up a container of special chai tea to serve to guests. And juiced carrots, cabbage, kiwifruit, pear and next-door neighbour plums together in a special 'healthy' concoction for the child who refuses all vegetables. And this week we baked cornbread, banana muffins and cranberry-pistachio loaf together. (I think she's mostly keen to lick the bowl.)
For the curious, here's the chai tea mix:
3 tbsps or so of milk powder
1/4 tsp ground cardamum
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp all spice
Shake it all up and add a teaspoon or so to a mug of hot black tea with sugar. mmmm.
Monday, January 01, 2007
an interesting experiment...
Theological students at Princeton found themselves in an interesting social experiment without knowing it.
Twenty or so students doing a preaching class were in one room doing preparation on different texts that had been handed out. Every fifteen minutes a different student was called out to another room down the corridor to deliver a short sermon on their given text.
As they walked down the hallway, an actor began to groan and look distressed, almost falling to the ground in one of the doorways.
Some of the students stopped to help him. Others walked right on by.
But here's the thing: half the students were preparing their sermons on the parable of the good samaritan! Their topic, fresh in their minds, was helping their neighbour!
The question you're dying to have answered is: did the ones preaching on the good samaritan stop to help the groaning man?
Well, some did, and some didn't. The percentage of 'Good Samaritan' preachers who stopped to help was not much different from the 'randomly-assigned-texts' preachers.
The difference that was crucial was the time factor. Half the students were told they were nearly running late to give their sermon. The other half were told that they had plenty of time.
Out of the time-stressed group, only one in ten stopped to help. Out of the time-rich group, six in ten stopped.
Maybe part of effective Christianity is going to be managing our time so that we are not too stressed out about our own schedules to be able to deal with other people's needs.
Twenty or so students doing a preaching class were in one room doing preparation on different texts that had been handed out. Every fifteen minutes a different student was called out to another room down the corridor to deliver a short sermon on their given text.
As they walked down the hallway, an actor began to groan and look distressed, almost falling to the ground in one of the doorways.
Some of the students stopped to help him. Others walked right on by.
But here's the thing: half the students were preparing their sermons on the parable of the good samaritan! Their topic, fresh in their minds, was helping their neighbour!
The question you're dying to have answered is: did the ones preaching on the good samaritan stop to help the groaning man?
Well, some did, and some didn't. The percentage of 'Good Samaritan' preachers who stopped to help was not much different from the 'randomly-assigned-texts' preachers.
The difference that was crucial was the time factor. Half the students were told they were nearly running late to give their sermon. The other half were told that they had plenty of time.
Out of the time-stressed group, only one in ten stopped to help. Out of the time-rich group, six in ten stopped.
Maybe part of effective Christianity is going to be managing our time so that we are not too stressed out about our own schedules to be able to deal with other people's needs.
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