Regal Royalty

Yip, I'm one of them. One of the nearly 2 billion people who watched the royal wedding (does than number include Internet watchers I wonder?). And I unashamedly loved it. LOVED Kate's little giggle after the balcony kiss. Loved that a commoner has married into the family. Loved that the world loves her. Loved that her parents have brought up two amazing level headed daughters.

I loved that 2 billion people all across the world were inspired by it - sure some folks were just watching it because everyone else was, but really - that number of people across the world are searching.

Desiring.

Hoping for something more in life.

That wedding, in all its forms, catches at our hearts, pulls at our dreams and calls us out.

It smacks of God.

And our cynical world laps it up.

Because he created us to love and be loved.

And funnily I'd just picked up "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge and "Do you think I'm beautiful?" by Angela Thomas, because I'm again, trying to figure out what it means to be a woman, and trying to understand...

And I'm reminded.

The question every boy grows up to ask as a man is "Have I got what it takes?" That's why men crave our respect, our belief.

And the question every little girl asks whilst growing up, and the one she continues to ask even as an adult is "Do you think I'm lovely?".

Not every woman wants a battle to fight, but every woman yearns to be fought for...She wants to be more than noticed - she wants to be wanted. She wants to be pursued.
Every woman also wants an adventure to share...A woman doesn't want to be the adventure; she wants to be caught up into something greater than herself....
Every woman wants to have a beauty to unveil. Not to conjure up, but to unveil. Most woman feel the pressure to be beautiful from very young, but that is not what I speak of. There is also a deep desire to simply and truly be the beauty, and be delighted in.

Food for thought huh?

Excerpts: One Thousand Gifts...

I have finally finished reading One Thousand Gifts, and wanted to share with you all these last few excerpts that have buried themselves in my heart.... (photos are Ann Voskamp's, from the book gallery)

• My mama, valley wise and grief traveled, she always said, 'Expectations kill relationships.' And I've known expectations as a disease, a silent killer heaping her burdens on the shoulders of a relationship until a soul bursts into a pulmonary and dies. 'Expectations kill relationships - especially with God. And that's what a child doesn't have: this whole edifice of expectation. Without expectations, what can topple the surprising wonder of the moment?

• ...I remember: Lament is a cry of belief in a good God, a God who has His ear to our hearts, a God who transfigures the ugly into beauty. Complaint is the bitter howl of unbelief in any benevolent God in this moment. a distrust in the love-beat of the Father's heart....

• ...In the moment of singing that one line, dedicating the work as thanks to Him, something - the miracle- happens, and every time. When service is unto people, the bones can grow weary, the frustration deep. Because, agrees Dorothy Sayers,  'whenver man is made the centre of things, he becomes the storm-centre of trouble. The moment you think of serving people, you begin to have the notion that other people owe you something for your pains...You will begin to bargain for reward, to angle for applause.'                          When the laundry is for the dozen arms of children or the dozen legs, it's true, I think I'm due some appreciation. So comes a storm of trouble and lightning strikes joy. But when Christ is at the center, when dishes, laundry, work is my song of thanks to Him, joy rains. Passionately serving Christ alone makes us the loving servant to all. When the eyes of the heart focus on God, and the hands on always washing feet of Jesus alone - the bones, they sing for joy and the work returns to it purest state: eucharisteo. The work becomes worship, a liturgy of thankfulness. 

• I walk in our back door to candlelight still flickering, hang the keys on the hook and look around  at the steep mountain of laundry there in the mudroom, the shoes scattered, a coat dropped. The mudroom sink is grime ringed. Fingerprints smear across the mirror. I laugh the happiest wonder. In the afternoon's drizzle, I give happy thanks for the daily mess with a smile a mile wide, because this is again my chance to whole heartedly serve God, to do full bodied eucharisteo with the hands and the heart and the lips. I can count each task a gift, pure Eucharisteo. Grace! This work - the thousand endless jobs - they each give the opportunity for one to become the gift, a thousand times over! Because with every one of the thousand, endless jobs - I become the gift to God and to others because this work is the public God serving, the daily liturgy of thanks, the completing of communion service with my service.

• the only thing to rip out the tape echoing self-rejection is the song of His serenade. One thousand gifts tuned me to the beat. It really is like C.S. Lewis argued: that the most  fundamental thing is not how we think of God but rather what God thinks of us: How God thinks of us is not only more important, but infinitely more important. Years of Christian discipleship, Bible study, churchgoing had been about me thinking about God; practicing Eucharisteo was the very first time I had really considered at length what God thought of me - this ridiculous and relentlessly pursuing love, so bold. Everywhere, everything. Love!

• God, He has blessed - caressed. I could bless God - caress with thanks. It's our making love... the intercourse of soul with God is the very climax of joy...we're called to do more than believe in God; we're called to live in God. To enter into Christ and Christ enter into us - to cohabit. Is this why it is His will for us to always give thanks in all things - the unbroken communion?

Food for thought huh?

Your To-Be List

I read this just tonight...and needed to. During these, oh-so-short holidays with all three children home with me, what is really important? May it speak to you too....

BE PRESENT: TEN YEARS FROM NOW, WHAT WILL HAVE MATTERED TO OUR CHILDREN?

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 26, 2011 AT 3:35PM

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered whether or not the sink was perfectly scrubbed.

Ten years from now it will have mattered that I stopped scrubbing the sink to listen to a problem they were having in school. 

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered that the plates were chipped or that the cups were not a matched set.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that we sat down at the table together, said a blessing, and shared stories about what happened that day.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered that their books were scattered everywhere.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that they loved to read and did so in every corner of the house.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered if they ran off to school with wrinkled shirts or grass stains on their pants.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that they were always told, "I love you. Have a great day!" as they dashed out the door - wrinkles, grass stains, and all.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered that their beds were made haphazardly; that there were lumps under the covers and pillows left on the floor.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that I leaned over their rumpled beds, kissed them goodnight and assured them that even as they slept, they were loved.

Ten years from now . . .

Ten years from now it won't have mattered that the couch was threadbare.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that we sat on that couch and laughed until we cried – and that on that very same couch, I held them when they cried genuine tears of sadness.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered if there were muddy footprints tracked through the house.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that they ran with abandon, filled their lungs with fresh air, and connected with the wonder of nature.

Ten years from now, it won’t have mattered if I won every argument.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that I lived my values.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered that they didn't get everything they wanted.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered that their deepest needs were met.

Ten years from now, it won't have mattered that I wasn't a perfect parent.

Ten years from now, it will have mattered – and mattered deeply – that I was a present parent.

So today and every day, may I live in the moment with my children, with my eyes to their future. 

And let me offer my children the gift of what will have mattered in ten years.

- by Lauren Rosenfeld, M.A., M.Ed., Author of Your To Be List

A quiet oasis

In the last few days I have stumbled across a rare gem.

 And I share it here, in the hopes that you will travel over, stay a while, and catch something beautiful that will refresh you.






And these two posts....they speak VOLUMES...
on joyful mothering,
and on homeschooling.

Hurry is the death of prayer - Samuel Chadwick

Being Kneaded

My heart has stilled over the last few days.

And I have been tenderly kneaded by my Maker.

I have been made to pause, to see things anew, afresh.

And my heart has leapt. This feeling of him kneading me, molding and shaping and changing me..

....sends tingles down my spine.

It makes me sprout tears. And gut wrenching sobs.

It challenges me to be all that I can be. All that he's made me to be. Simply by letting him do the work.

He has stopped me. Held me. Lovingly shown me that there is actually a different way of living. A life of grace so much deeper than anything I am used to.

A life that measures my children as immeasurable gifts.
A life where joy is important, and sadly too far forgotten in my life.
A life where delight carries weight.
A life where hurry plays no part.

My heart has found its way to a quiet oasis.

And I am inspired.

Perspective

A friend sent me this lovely story this week and although it's a little cliche, God used it to re-illustrated something he'd been showing me:

A young couple moved into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they were eating breakfast, the young woman saw her neighbor hanging the wash outside.

'That laundry is not very clean,' she said. 'She doesn't know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.'

Her husband looked on, but remained silent.Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.

About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband: 'Look, she has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this.'

Her husband said, 'I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.'

And so it is with life.

It's so true.

 "What we see when watching others depends on the window through which we look."

God has been reminding me that so much of the way I speak or act is framed by my own experience, my own way of filtering the world. Friends, the way you and I think, the way we feel, the way in which we hear things or interpret things is based on so many things, that the only real answer is to give one another grace...

It's true of marriage too. The way your spouse hears what you say may have nothing to do with what you actually said - but if his filter is one of condemnation, then that is what he will hear. If hers is one of low self esteem, everything will seem like a criticism. It may explain why someone you know always shies away from you. It may explain sudden outbursts of anger with an in-law.

It's true even of sex. I love the illustration given in Sheet Music (I reviewed it a while ago). Dr. Kevin Leman says the marriage bed is the most crowded one of all. Because it's not just you and your spouse, but your parents and your spouse's parents - and those 6 individuals all see sex differently, all see marriage differently, and all have their own set of spoken and unspoken rules.

So how then do we live?

Surely only in Christ - with his eyes for one another, with the Spirit being our lens.

Surely?

Soul Food

This afternoon I was refreshed, and rejuvenated.

Beauty sank deep into my soul.

Joy filled my spirit.

And the thirst for time like this, the deep craving within me the last few weeks has been filled.

We spent the afternoon, soaking in the sun, catching fish, spending quality time with one another, the children and I at Silvermine.

King Arthur trying to catch a fish
(got to love his net!)

Belle swimming her heart out!
The water was LOVELY, I even swam.

My golden hearted boy, feeding the ducks
the fish bait as they looked hungry!

This is the stuff childhoods are made of.

Sweet, sweet time...

Dregs of 2010

Don't you just love waking up on a Cape Town morning to stillness?

Especially after the constant blustery gale?

This morning, at our house was one of those mornings. And it was pure bliss!

The last few days of this year have been good. We went walking in Newlands forest (p.s. a wind free zone! Magic!!!! I'm going to go back soon!) with a friend from Zimbabwe...

a somewhat empty stream

...which  the boys had to climb through

pretty huh?

The reason we went to the forest was to build forts -
sadly Newlands doesn't lend itself to forts as well as Cecilia forest,
but Braveheart and the boys made a grand attempt!

Today, we went to Cecilia forest with family, and walked along the path through the forest and into Kirstenbosch. A lovely manageable stroll, with a delicious picnic at the end....

The time it took was greatly extended by discovering that this stream that we crossed
had tadpoles in it, which the boys just HAD to try and catch! They caught
four, I was quite impressed!

Belle and her cousin

I realise I take loads of photos of Belle - but I also think
it's because she just sits still! The boys
can't stop long enough for me to take good ones!

the cousins

the boys cooling off 

So it's the last day of the year. I'm am not a fan of New Year's resolutions, but I do love the start of a New year, and the opportunity it gives to start things afresh, to change, to move on.

And although I did New Year's Eve parties in a big way when I was growing up (as my parents hosted endless numbers of them, and still do to this day and they're over 55!), in my parenting years they hold very little attraction for me. I think it's the combination of a great night - but a late night, and then an early morning with the kids!

This year, I really wanted to spend it with the kids, and also had hoped to hike somewhere for the sunset. But given that we'd already worn them out on a hike this morning, I opted instead to picnic on the beach at sunset. Aha! little did I know the South Easter would pick up, yet again!

Undeterred, we went to Noordhoek beach, where the sand was stinging our legs and blinding us, and climbed high into the sand dunes and sat in the shelter the Milkwood trees offered us. It was really lovely....

Aragorn...

Our view

We drew a line in the sand, said good-bye to 2010 whilst facing the land (suburbia), and then turned around, jumped over the line and yelled hello to 2011, looking at the ocean. I found it symbolic. (God had laid it on my heart earlier today - and I find those sorts of things sometimes downright odd (doing something physical that God has asked you to)). But this afternoon, looking at that expansive horizon, I realized that's what 2011 looks like for all of us.

A blank horizon. Empty. Barren. Open.

A year of opportunity.

Of Possibility.

Of hope.

As we continue to walk down this road together, may our year ahead be one that changes us all,

 forever.

If I had a green nose...

Got to love those moments when you're reading a kids story, and suddenly God speaks to you loud and clear. I'm not a Max Lucado fan, but his allegories for kids are just awesome....

Lucia and Punchinello looked out the windows of Eli's workshop. Like other Wemmicks, they were wooden people. But unlike other Wemmicks, they weren't standing in line in the village below.

"Look at them all!"exclaimed Punchinello.

"I don't understand it," Lucia wondered. "Why would anyone want to paint his nose green?"

"Because everyone else is, " Eli responded without looking up form his workbench.

Punchinello didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone wants to look like everyone else. Sometimes it's square hats. Sometimes it's tall shoes. Why, last year the big thing was yellow ears. Now it's green noses. Everyone wants a green nose."

"Does a green nose make them smarter?"Punchinello asked

"No."

"Does a green nose make them stronger?

"No."

"Does it make them faster?

"No."

"Then what does a green nose make them?"

Eli looked up and smiled. "Greener."

But his smile left as he looked out of the window at the long line of Wemmicks. "They think they'll be happier if they look like everyone else. But I made them different on purpose. Freckles, long noses, bright eyes, dark eyes...these were my ideas. Now they all want to look the same."

and then these two Wemmicks go down to the village to get a closer look, and this is one of the conversations they have whilst observing the goings on...

"It's the latest thing," barked a Wemmick on the sidewalk. "Don't be the only Wemmick with a plain nose."

"Who is that?" asked Punchinello.

Lucia shrugged. "I don't know."

"Why, that's Mr. Willy Withit," volunteered a Wemmick from behind them.

"Does he run the nose-painting store?" asked Punchinello.

"More than that," the Wemmick explained. "Painted noses were his idea. So were the square hats and the tall shoes and the yellow ears. New things are his thing. He decides what is 'withit'. Isn't he the best?"

Lucia and Punchinello took a good look at this tall Wemmick with the deep voice, big smile, tall hat, and green bow tie that matched his oh-so-great green nose. Both were thinking the same question. Lucia asked it, "Who made him the new-thing picker?"

The Wemmick looked puzzled, like he'd never been asked that question. "Well I don't know. He always has."

Little Punchinello and some of his friends end up getting their noses painted, but they have to keep going back as green soon isn't the latest fashion, it's blue. Then yellow, orange  - you get the idea. At the end of the story they return, somewhat dejected to Eli's workshop...

"Been trying to fit in, eh?'

Punchinello nodded.

"Did you succeed?"

"Not really. Every time we got close, someone changed the rules."

"That's the way it is."

"And my neck hurt from sticking my nose in the air," Woody added.

"You weren't built to walk that way."

"We just want to be ourselves again, " Spilnt said.

"I'm glad to hear that".

"Can we?"they asked.

"Of course you can," Eli replied. "I'll always help you to be who I made you to be". Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of sandpaper. "But it's going to take some time."

And so Punchinello and his friends followed their maker into this workshop where he spent the rest of hsi day removingf the paint. It hurt to be sanded, but it was worth it be normal again.

Christmas Concert 2010

The three wise men, aka King Arthur and friends 

Belle was mesmerized the entire time -
just too sweet. And I sobbed the entire time!

The shepherds and angels  -
Aragorn is in the lighter colored outfit

Half the Sky

Women hold up half the sky

Chinese proverb

I was chatting with a frind recently about the incongruous nature of what I am feeling with regard to education and the female gender (groan, I am NOT in any way a feminist!), but she pointed me to this article written by Nicholas D. Kristof (a New York Times Op-Ed columnist) and Sheryl WuDunn (a former Times correspondent), which was absolutley fascinating to me!

IN THE 19TH CENTURY, the paramount moral challenge was slavery. In the 20th century, it was totalitarianism. In this century, it is the brutality inflicted on so many women and girls around the globe: sex trafficking, acid attacks, bride burnings and mass rape....

... in a large slice of the world, girls are uneducated and women marginalized, and it’s not an accident that those same countries are disproportionately mired in poverty and riven by fundamentalism and chaos. There’s a growing recognition among everyone from the World Bankto the U.S. military’s Joint Chiefs of Staff to aid organizations like CARE that focusing on women and girls is the most effective way to fight global poverty and extremism. That’s why foreign aid is increasingly directed to women. The world is awakening to a powerful truth: Women and girls aren’t the problem; they’re the solution.

Food for thought huh?

This essay is adapted from their book “Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity for Women Worldwide,” which will be published next month by Alfred A. Knopf. You can learn more about “Half the Sky” at nytimes.com/ontheground.

Busy, busy, busy!

It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by.  How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?  For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone.  That is where the writer scores over his fellows:  he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. 

Vita Sackville-West

Funny which things we choose to sideline when our lives get busy - I've been reflecting on this the last little while, and just realising that I've been side lining relationships and existing in a purely functional zone. There's something about school, even nursery school, that makes the last few weeks of the last term somewhat ruthless in its pace. And I sense that my writing in this blog is an indicator of where I'm at with my head space and the balance in my life.

Writing clears my head. It's like breathing eucalyptus scent when you're all clogged up. I am lucid and with it and can think straight. You know the movie “Chariot's of Fire”? In a scene Eric Liddle says, “When I run I feel his [God] pleasure.” And I guess I can say that about writing and cycling – when I really secure my thoughts and pin them onto paper/screen, I feel alive. (I've written that before haven't I? :))

But clawing one's way back into a life of meaning, a life of relating to others is a challenge to say the least. I guess the key is not to lose the balance in the first place. People...relationships...these are the only things I believe we will carry with us into eternity.

Culture Chaos

This post  has been in my head for over a month, but with all that has been happening it hasn't made it to the blog. Bear with me as I try and capture what's been churning in this head of mine!

Whilst still in our old house, a new neighbor moved in next door. Now as it was a semi-detached house, we could not help but embrace whoever lived next door, and over the years we lived there we made some good friends due to the nature of being so close. However, this last family, a single mom and her three kids, altered my world view.

Have you ever noticed that there's a lot you can infer about someone by what they call their children? From names like Forgotten, or Mercy, to Love, or Happiness (seriously, these are real names from students I've taught in Zim). We've certainly chosen names for our family that reflect that we believe in God, believe he gave us our children and that show we believe them to have a destiny. The two boys in this new next door family - (I use poetic license now as I don't wish to use their real names) are called Sky and Basil, and the girl is called Indigo. 

The first tell tale sign. 

Then one evening whilst cooking dinner, it became increasingly apparent by our hacking coughs that something in the air had changed - and I realized that the fragrance of incense from the house next door was so strong that it was overpowering us. Clue number #2!

I did eventually invite the mom over for tea which was, all things considered, fairly normal, but when asked to reciprocate the visit, well let's just say I was found myself completely out of my depth.

It wasn't so much the ancient Indian poster proclaiming the 10 commandments, or the colourful interior of her home, or the ostrich plumes, or the Tibetan prayer flags.....it was the enormous sense of difference. I realized that I had not the faintest clue how to really relate to this woman, or what to talk about. She is from a sub-culture of people I have never really interacted with. I had no words for a comeback when she told me how the universe was aligning so that  her life could carry on when the father of her children left her (they never married). I was confronted, with no way of escaping, with a completely different world. 

(As a humorous aside - do you know that those of us that live in the deep south are referred to as living beyond the lentil curtain? I heard that this weekend and it cracked me up! Like the boerwors curtain of the north!)

And, if I'm honest, initially it scared me. Actually it terrified me. But after a while, those emotions grew into a deep sadness. I believe, wholeheartedly, that in his day Jesus was completely relevant to all people at all times - he hung out with the outcasts of society, he spoke love to prostitutes in broad daylight. I came to realize, that whatever I have adopted as a Christian culture, is actually so irrelevant to the world in which I live today, it is sad. It deeply troubles me. I want to have a culture, a Christian underpinning, that no matter who I talk to or converse with, they sense the FREEDOM of Christ and his love. My life felt so narrow, so sheltered, so protected. And folk...all my experiences of church, this 'holy huddle' stuff, this 'brand'of  Christianity has not prepared me to be able to really love the world as I am convinced Christ did.

We are out of our depth Christians. We've lost the plot. I don't know that we are relevant to this society in which we live anymore. And that friends is sobering. And deeply troubling.

O God.

Legalism and Grace

A dear friend of mine, RH, is one of the few men whose walk in Christ is inspirational and noteworthy. A while ago he sent out this email, which really struck a chord within me. After reading it, I felt so convicted about how little I understood about Christ, and how little I really knew the freedom of his grace. Here's the beginning, and some of the ones that resonated with me. (You can join Grace Rising and receive his posts here)

The comedian, Jeff Foxworthy, has gained worldwide fame for his "...you might be a redneck" jokes. Here is a take-off on his routine, referring instead to "...you might be a legalist."

These are the some of the ones I ticked off – (and some of them I'm just still thinking about....musing over them, thinking things like – there's another way to think about this? Really? Go ahead, read the list and see. What resonates with you?)

• If you think that God's Law can effect right living...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that a man can keep God's principles and precepts...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that there is a right answer and right action for every circumstance (if you could just take the time to figure it out)...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that obedience is doing what the rules indicate...then you might be a legalist.
• If you feel frustrated and defeated in that you just don't seem to be able to do it all right and perfect...then you might be a legalist.
• If you are burdened by self-condemnation for your failures in life...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think the 10 commandments are still authoritative for Christians today...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that abstinence is a virtue...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that tithing is the standard for Christian giving...then you might be a legalist.
• If you've ever felt guilty for driving up in a new car, or buying a new dress, or even a new home...then you might be a legalist.
• If you've ever tried to impose your perspective of modesty on another...then you might be a legalist.
• If you men have ever felt condemned for having taken a second look at a beautiful woman (in a short skirt)...then you might be a legalist.
• If you think that Christians shouldn't practice birth control...then you might be a legalist.
• If you've ever taken off jewelry or wiped off make-up to capitulate to another's religious scruples...then you might be a legalist
• If you've ever looked down upon another for their living arrangements...then you might be a legalist.

Marriage Matters

Funny how as parents we can spend endless hours seeking the best advice on how to bring up our children....and forget that our marriages need as much tender loving care as our children do. Funny how we expect our marriages to look after themselves when they really are living, breathing entities that need to also be fed and nurtured. Funny how we can prioritize giving the kids time, or spending time together as a family, and forget that we, as husband and wife, also need time to grow together. Funny how when we first met we spent time doing what each other liked, and now, with time being spread so thin with family responsibilities, it's easy to settle into a selfish routine of doing only what you like.

Except I'm not really laughing. Our marriages...my marriage, is the foundation on which family life is built. I forget this far too often, and am feeling very challenged over the last few days.

Marriage matters - more than I think we realize...

Truly A Different Drumbeat

Sometimes along life's journey you are privileged to meet people who also walk to the beat of a different drum ... and today I want to take the opportunity to introduce you to my good friends, Mark and Laura.

You can read about their tale here, but I marvel at what they have chosen to do with their lives. They've given everything up in the UK - safety, security, to go back to the sticks (Zim slang for rural areas) and serve people. I am humbled by what they have chosen to do, especially in light of the fact that I am moving into a bigger house, whilst they have yet to find a home in which to live in the mining village. They've been offered a room in a house....picture dust and gravel, and the equivalent of a domestic quarters.

(How is that we have come to picture being blessed equals a nice place to live? Surely being blessed means something our Christian culture has missed completely...one only has to think of the beatitudes and realize how far we have fallen from the truth.)

But here's the thing - to them, it feels completely normal, and in their heart of hearts this is where they want to be. I can do birth in foreign countries, I can do financial hardship, I can do making movies, but I'm not sure I can do what they are doing.

And dear friends, that is the beauty of grace. His grace is enough for what we are all called to do. But if we are hoodwinked into thinking we all have to do what each other is doing, then we lose sight of the bigger picture, of the freedom that Christ has called us to. Let's just stop looking at each other, keep our eyes on him  and let Him do the work - let him lead us and guide us. And let us be willing - to reach out and support those who are doing something completely out of our comfort zone.

Their journey has also made me question education and teaching AGAIN! Education, in the third world, can be such a stepping stone for people out of poverty, and I think I easily forget that. These children's parents are desperate for them to have a better future than they themselves have had - they want them to have opportunities they never did. How else are these children going to receive that unless through school?

Food for thought huh?

I should have been a Sloth

Seriously. Do you know that sloths sleep on average, 18 hours a day? My day began with a sleep in till 7 (aren't I married to a honey?) and then lifting for King Arthur's class outing to the Scratch Patch. By 0830 I could not stop yawning, and then by lunch time it was all I could do to keep my eyelids from drooping. A nap was not to be sadly, as it was King Arthur's gymnastics watching day - he did brilliantly - teaching him about commitment to something is paying off!

Some background to my slothful tendencies - my nights are very broken at the moment. I need some serious solutions to snoring, as Braveheart seems to be journeying down this path. A friend suggested ear plugs, and in all fairness, I can't really seem to get them into my ears to really try. I also think I have supersonic hearing. Quit laughing, it's true! A few years ago I had terrible ear ache, and had to see an audiologist as well as the ENT, and she was very impressed with my range of hearing - apparently I hear through the bone behind my ear as well as my ear drum or something like that. (So now it makes sense my earliest memories of asking my folks to turn down the radio in the mornings, and my kids incessant requests to turn things up! Often when we watch TV it feels like it is blaring to me, yet Braveheart is quite fine.) I could be the next Bionic woman!

Okay, but enough with the bragging. The point is, I tried these things in my ear (the foam ones) and could pretty much hear everything as normal. So that doesn't really seem like it's going to do much. My solutions at the moment are to keep prodding poor Braveheart ( he seems to snore less on his side), and to sleep with a thick pillow over my head, but with summer approaching I think it's going to get a bit hot. Are any of you married to snorers? Help dear friends. Help!

(I feel i should, to Braveheart's credit, note that for the record, when I am asleep, I sleep soundly. I do not stir. I do not wake. Nay, I am dead to the world. And so it is this man that ends up getting up to the kids 9 times out of 10. Just for the record!)

Beddy byes people. Beddy byes.

Weekend Wrap-Up

A quiet weekend actually, despite being somewhat social.

Satudrday morning included spinning with the notorius Mr Richard B (not to be mistaken with Richard S whose classes I have been known to walk out of!) -my legs happened to feel like jelly after that, and although it was a 90 minute class, I gave up after 75 mins! Then proceeded to swim with my children - I was as pleased as punch to see that Belle does not associate swimming or going under in a pool at all with the fall in the lake. Then a 4 year old's birthday party.

Saturday afternoon...hmmm, don't you just hate it when you cannot for the life of you get your short term memory to co-operate?! Is it a sign of age? Nope, even after a few moments of twiddling my thumbs I still can't think of what I did.

Sunday morning I marshaled for the Camel Run - a 16km run through the heart of the deep south - through vineyards, farms, up Chappies and then along Noordhoek beach, and let me tell you, I was inspired. I was inspired by the beauty of the morning - I don't think I have been awake and dressed and outdoors by 7 am once this winter, but spring is surely here and it was BEAUTIFUL!

and the moon was just setting too!

 Now granted it was probably beautiful because of the fact that there was sunlight, and it is closer to spring, but it just felt like I should be up and about, and has made me realize training season needs to begin! I love the buzz of organised sporting events. Hmm, I wonder what I would feel if I went to a live rugby or soccer match - now there's an experiment waiting to happen! And I was inspired by the way those men and women can run. No really... I am not a runner. Never have been. But these folk, their legs just moved with such beauty! It may be something I look into this year as a cross training option (well, that's the idea anyway, let's see if it materializes into anything!).

Then a 3 year old's birthday party,

I'm not very good at taking photos at the actual events yet, but
this is Aragorn and Belle making wings to go on the wrapped umbrella
(it was a butterfly party!)

... a short lunch time nap for the littlest one (and Mom!) and then a friends 40th, where I had one of the most enlightening conversations in recent weeks - will post about that later on this week.

My posts have somewhat tumbled into a state of ''re-telling''....I'm hoping my brain will come back from la-la land so I can write intelligently about some of the things churning in my head!