Chocolate mousse

I had a successful morning. I managed to make a non-dairy, gluten-free chocolate mousse to bribe the children with. It was absolutely scrumptious.

The recipe came from the book 'French Women Don't Get Fat' which is making me realise how much standing up snacking I do. A good eating principle the author suggests is to only ever eat sitting down.

Here's how you do it.

Melt 125 grams of really good quality dark chocolate. Mix in 3 egg yolks and 1 tbsp of sugar. Beat 5 egg whites to form stiff shiny peaks and fold in the chocolate mix. Refrigerate overnight.

It's impossible to eat too much because it's just so rich!

Oh, and if you're wondering about the health kick - yes, I'm still on it. Turns out dark chocolate is very nutritious (in reasonable amounts obviously), eggs are a great source of protein and I use pure fructose in place of sugar. It works the same but it's easier to digest.

An evening out

Our church is having a ladies coffee and dessert night soon. The topic was advertised in the newsletter as 'Women: their influence and responsibility'.

After church I was talking to the lady who is down to speak at it. At length and in a fairly over the top manner, I said, "Oh my goodness. What on earth are you going to say? It's a really hard topic!"

Her reply: "Well, actually, Cecily, I thought it would be good to interview you!"

Now I'm the advertised speaker (well, interviewee). Gotta come up with something to say...

Every mother must read this

Found a fabulous book in our local (wonderful) library last week - Early Leaving by Judy Goldman.

It's the book I want to write and I wish I had written. It has beautiful crafting, a story that keeps me in, characters that are complex, flawed and yet likeable and thought-provoking implications for my own life.

The question is: can a mother love too much? The resounding answer: yes - if it is the wrong kind of 'love'.

When I reached the end, I wanted there to be a sequel. I need to find out what happens to these people!

Check out this link
http://www.judygoldman.com/about.shtml

Things II

Things I'm wasting time on
Checking email.
Trying to get a video clip of RDI therapy into a different format
Killing flies in my kitchen.
Walking back and forth in my kitchen moving things under the guise of 'tidying'. If I really am tidying - how come it's always a mess?'
Watching TV.


Things I should be doing instead
Preparing four talks for a camp in July!!!
Preparing creative activities for therapy and doing them.
Finding out where the flies are coming from and eliminating them at the source.
Earning enough money to employ a fulltime cook and cleaner. (Ha. I wish.)
Writing better blogs.

Love... and safety

More research on friendship. And now I'm turning to CS Lewis' The Four Loves. (I was mesmerised by his chapters on friendship and affection, but embarrassed to say I understood only 40 per cent of his writing on romantic love.)

I was taken by this section on love, safety and self-protection.

Lewis tells of St Augustine, who lost his best friend and wrote about how devastated he was.

“This is what comes of giving ones heart to anything but God," said Augustine. "All human beings pass away. Do not let your happiness depend on something you may lose. If love is to be a blessing, not a misery, it must be for the only Beloved who will never pass away.”

It would be nice to always agree with the ancient Christian greats, but Lewis takes issue with his sentiments.

Instead he argues that Augustine's position is the safe option.

Lewis writes: “Of all the arguments against love, none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as ‘careful, this might lead you to suffering!’ "

"But when I respond to that appeal I seem to be a thousand miles from Christ. If I am sure of anything, I am sure that his teaching was never meant to confirm my preference for safety.... God himself doesn’t have insurance against heartbreak."

"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness."

"But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken, but it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy (or the risk or tragedy) is damnation. The only place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers nad perturbations of love is Hell."

Buzzing

We had a lovely visit from my friend with her four children under the age of 4. Three beautiful triplets plus another toddler who wishes he was part of the triplets!

It was gorgeous to see them, but I'm glad I only have three. It's hard enough to get my children out the door, but when my friend left, getting the children to the door, shod and into the car was like herding bees.

A good steady comfort

Our church just started a sermon series on 1 Corinthians and already I've found something strengthening.

In the last two months I've found things pretty tough and have been tired, cranky and angry inside. Some days it has been so bad that I felt like I was internally haemorrhaging bile and bitterness.

On those days I wondered about my Christian life. Surely this couldn't be good? Was I slipping? Was I really ok? Did God even care? And surely I was so bad that I couldn't be loved by him.

The passage below from the first chapter of 1 Corinthians has been a great comfort, however. The church at Corinth was in some pretty serious trouble. They had internal disagreements, anger and factions. They had sexual sin, disorder, disruptions and immorality. They had confusion about idols, prayer and conduct. They had already had a bit of a dressing down from Paul in a previous letter.

And yet in this letter, his very first words to them were words of thanksgiving.

"I give thanks to my God always for you because..."

Because of what though? Because of their great behaviour? Their wonderful faith? Their outstanding good works?

Not even close. Paul gave thanks to God for them because of God himself. He gave thanks for God's work in saving them, calling them, enriching them and keeping them safe until the end.

In my difficult state of mind, I've been thanking God for his work in my life. Even though I'm struggling, God is faithful. His work in my life is sturdy, strong and sustaining.

And oddly enough, just remembering that God's work is what it's all about, not my work, has been enough to turn my state of mind around. Things are a lot better this week!



"I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge -even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you - so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
1 Corinthians 1:4-9

Vegie patch and good works

My wonderful Poppa, Aunt and Uncle made a visit the other day. It was a visit with a purpose. They came to build and dig a vegetable patch for me.

A month ago, I mentioned to Pop that I was thinking of maybe possibly getting a vegie patch to grow a few things in, sometime ready for next year. He took the idea, organised people and products, turned up to build and left me with a beautiful fertilised and mulched vegetable patch.

On Saturday I'll be heading out to the nursery for seedlings to plant.

Whereas before it was a 'good idea' to grow vegies, now I am extremely motivated. I will do this! I will water, I will weed, I will feed my worm farm. The reason? Because my pop, my aunt and my uncle did it for me. Their grace has left me in a position to have beautiful vegetables, if I care enough about it. If I take the patch for granted, ignore it and presume on their gift and their friendship, our relationship will eventually suffer.

My motivation for vegetable growing comes from gift and grace. It's a strong motivation.

Similarly my motivation for living the Christian life and doing good things comes from gift and grace. God, through Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, has put me in a position to do good, if I care enough about it. If I take his gift of salvation and the Holy Spirit for granted, ignore it and presume on his gift and friendship, our relationship will eventually suffer.

The reality is that if they hadn't built that patch for me, it would take me three years to get around to it... And it would never be as good as the one they have made. If God hadn't saved me, I would never have gotten around to being good enough. And I couldn't be anyway.

I like the motivation of grace. It's a much better motivation than guilt, or trying hard.

What sort of person are you?

Did you ever read or hear a comment like this?

"You can tell what sort of person someone is by the state of their fingernails."

There are all sorts of judgments and pronouncements about people out there. Things I've heard over the years include:

- you can tell all you need to know about someone by seeing if their shoes are scuffed or polished.

- the mark of the man is in what kind of watch he wears.

- a housewife is slovenly if her kitchen sink is not shiny and clean at all times.

Unfortunately I wouldn't pass any of these people's tests. I bit my nails until I was 24 and even now they go through iffy stages. My shoes are the last thing I look at when I get dressed. Neither my husband nor I wear watches (and we're never late). I'll leave it to you to guess about my kitchen sink. (Suffice to say, I'm not the sort of housewife who irons her sheets...)

For a while, hearing this kind of judgment used to worry me. What kind of person was I really, if I didn't have shiny shoes? Perhaps I was just a pretender in life, waltzing blindly through the fine art of home-making with a dirty sink.

It doesn't worry me so much any more. I'm a little more secure in myself now that I realise that the majority of the world either doesn't own a watch, or bought the mid-range one at Target.

Most of the time I laugh at these sorts of judgments. They are just someone else's silly idea of what makes a person important or worthwhile.

Then I realise that I carry around my own unconscious judgments... which are just as silly. Things like:

Important and worthwhile people all use correct grammar and spelling and have good handwriting, never wear joggers with jeans, always use deodorant and have good spatial and logic skills.

Important and worthwhile people can drive, can keep a budget and read the Sydney Morning Herald.

Important and worthwhile people can always articulate what they mean quickly, don't waste time and leave interesting comments on other people's blogs... (no, the last one is a joke...)


It's just so so so easy to judge.

Real love

I have recently met a very special couple. They are very ordinary, normal sort of people, but I don't think I've seen people demonstrate real love quite so movingly for a while.

They have no biological children of their own, but adopted many years ago two children with profound intellectual and physical disabilities. The children are now teenagers, and will be unable to live independently as adults.

Every week the parents bring these two beautiful teenagers to church, guide them in to the pew and make them part of the congregation. Their care and love for their children is warm, obvious and constant.

And it is care and love that is chosen as well.

That's where I find myself challenged. I have a child with difficulties, but I feel sorry for myself. I say, "I didn't choose this. Why didn't I get to do what I choose?"

These parents chose their children with all the years of work and effort and persistence that they knew taking them must involve. And they are loving, caring, kind and patient by choice.

In my all too infrequent moments of humility I thank God for giving me a challenging child because he knows that I need to learn to love deeply, persistently and patiently.

If I could choose things for myself, they would be the things I want: glamour, success, self-fulfillment, money and health. They wouldn't be the things I desperately need: love, patience, joy, kindness, self-control, perseverence...

Thank God that he gets to choose - not me.

Nostrils

I have a number of peculiarities, most of which I try to keep a secret because they make me appear weird or odd. One of these is that I really hate listening to other people's breathing noises.

I have been this way at least since the age of five - probably earlier. As a little girl I had a feather pillow which I could fold over my ears to keep out the nighttime breathing noises of my little brother. (When you're young you can also actually fold your ears over under the pillow too. I've discovered that as you get older, this begins to hurt!)

As time went on and I went to boarding school, sharing a room with five or six other girls, I graduated to using earplugs with the pillow.

When I met my husband I had to check that he wasn't a snorer*. If he had been, the romance would have been off.

My biggest fear in life was going to hospital and having to share a room with people who snored or breathed loud. This has come true several times in the last few years - and it is every bit as bad as I anticipated. I stalk the halls angrily if I'm able to walk, dying from lack of sleep, yet absolutely unable to go to bed and relax with such noises beside me.

Other situations to avoid are: exam rooms (if you're stuck next to a sniffer it's a nightmare), crowded public transport seats, camps where I have to share a room. In church, meetings and social groups, I tend to look for the seat on the outside or the corner, where I can edge away from potential threats.

If I do get stuck next to a loud breather, my blood pressure rises, I start to feel angry and anxious, fidgety and cross and I start thinking about hitting the offender in the head. (I've never actually done it, although I have woken up my brother in earlier years, said "Stop Breathing!" and then pretended not to remember in the morning. I kept that lie going for years. Sorry Pete.)

Why is it such a problem? I have absolutely no idea - and if I did know, it probably wouldn't help. Does it affect my life? Absolutely! Can I do anything about it? I've tried counselling, resetting my thoughts about the meaning of breathing, 'just getting over it', even hypnotherapy... and all of it has been absolutely ineffective.

Anyway... the point of this blog was going to be to tell you that today my nostrils were whistling. It is an involuntary thing that happens to me every so often. And it is utterly infuriating. When other people breathe loud I can usually walk away. But when it's my own nose making the noise, I can't escape.

I have recently found a solution for it though! Hold closed the offending nostril and try to breathe through the other, off-duty one. Eventually it will clear, the whistling one will go off duty and your problem should be solved. Unless, of course, the whistle switches to the second nostril... as mine did today. Grrr.

*Bet you all want to know how I did this.

Positive journal

I may have mentioned my 'positive journal' in a post a few months back.

It's a book in which I write down the good things I have done every day. My husband does it too. His version allows him to award himself 'points' for each day and reward himself when he gets to a certain number. I don't bother with that, but he says I should.

My last entry in my positive journal dates to a month ago. It says, "Why am I bothering to do this? Every single day I do the same things. It seems to be one step forward and one and a half steps back. I think I'm going to forget it."

Not exactly 'positive'.

Still, I'm back again this month. I've noticed the difference in myself when I don't keep the journal. It was a bit of a disastrous few weeks in emotional Cecily-land. I tend to be a little bit depressive and pessimistic in myself and will often focus on the culinary disasters, for example, rather than the good square meals cooked with a clingy one year old on my hip and served on time.

I'll see if my mood improves as I continue to be 'positive'.

Not my own work

I don't normally pinch material from other people but this time I'd like to share a little of an article I read today on inclusive language.

I have always been very strong on using inclusive language, mostly because I grew up in a country (not Australia) where women were invisible. It is a bad feeling to be ignored and trivialised just because of who you are.

Language is a justice issue. Here's what this article says:

"Language is a powerful tool. It facilitates social interaction. It also creates barriers and glass ceilings. People in positions of privilege use language that supports their privilege, often without thinking about it.

"For example, when I was growing up, I heard men use the word man or men in a universal sense to mean all people, instead of using the word person or human. But the reality I saw was that men occupied the positions of power and privilege in society.

"The way they used language perpetuated the privilege they enjoyed and reinforced the power structure that ensured that privilege, regardless of how universally they meant to include women in the word men.

"What does language have to do with justice? In Micah 6:8, we are required to "do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God." As people of faith, we are called upon to do the right thing, to treat others with compassion, and to maintain a modest attitude.

"Doing the right thing not only refers to action but also to speech (James 3:1-9). The way we use language can create just or unjust conditions for those to whom we speak.

"Privileges that power groups take for granted and never have to think about are often denied to others by the way the power group uses language. The use of language in a society is a justice issue whenever anyone marginalized is inhibited or excluded from participation in the power groups’ privileges.

"Using careless or insensitive constructions of speech can exclude others from opportunities for full participation in community life and promotes unfair and untrue stereotypes.

"Once our speech pre-judges our attitude, it is easy to keep others at arm's length, even when our intentions are charitable and well-meaning.

"This article will explore how language, specifically as it relates to disability and gender, is a justice issue, and how to promote justice practically through careful, intentional speech.

For the full text of the article, click here.

Kind of true

My seven year old daughter's teacher told her that you don't have to believe in Jesus to get to heaven - you just have to be kind to people.

I guess strictly speaking, that's true. But as I said to my daughter that means you'd have to be 100% kind to 100% of the people 100% of the time, with 0% mean-ness or apathy ever in your whole life.

The whole problem is not whether people are kind to others - it's what to do with the sin and the unkindness and the meanness and the selfishness and the everything else that mucks up all of our lives all of the time.

All of that stuff just doesn't go away, or get cancelled out by extra kindness. It's not like some people believe - that our goodness cancels out our badness. Badness and its effects still exist no matter how much 'penance' is done for it.

The only way badness gets eliminated is by forgiveness. And who's going to forgive us if not God? As my daughter said, "To get forgiven you actually have to say you're sorry first." And if you think your levels of kindness are ok enough, you're not going to say you're sorry!

God's method of forgiveness for our badness is through Jesus. So to get to heaven, we have to accept his sacrifice and his forgiveness for all our sin.

So although Mrs F is right, if we're kind we'll go to heaven, she's only got the first half of the story right. She doesn't have a framework for the second half of the story, or a solution for it.

Preparing for Easter

A friend lent me a book to help me prepare for Easter. It's called 'The Weeping Chamber' by Sigmund Brouwer. She's reading the same book, but in her Dutch translation.

It's a very well-written fictional account of a troubled man in Jerusalem in the last week of Jesus' life. Their paths cross and his life is changed.

His insights into the details of that last week - what happened and why - are excellent and bring the story to life in a way I haven't experienced for a while.

Of course, it's fairly intense, so I'm not in the most upbeat mood after reading it.

Something else we're doing is having a Christian passover meal with about 20 people from church on Thursday night. I've read through a modified sort of script for the ceremony and it looks like it will be moving and meaningful.