Huddled. As if.

I find myself huddled again in my quiet corner in my study. There is worship music "I was made for you, I am loved by you" and "since your love got hold of me" playing. It's comforting.

My heart is breaking for friends who are so hurt by casualness. By being brushed off. By being thanked for what they can do and not who they are ... I can't talk about it but I want to weep this afternoon.

Our friend Dave puts it just how it should be in an email I received this afternoon.

"It is clear that today, just as in the time of Francis (of Assisi) the Spirit is raising up counter cultural Christian communities at a time when God's people most need the support and challenge such gatherings can provide.          This community of communities, as it is called, strives to live as if the priorities of modern society did not hold sway; as if the values of God's Reign were already operative in modern society.."

" In communities we join with scores of faith-filled men and women to live the great political and theological "as if." 

Politically we live as if  our nation was true to it's constitution of liberty and justice for all; as if people mattered in themselves and not for their economic or social status;" as if consumerism and the shopping mall did not determine the meaning of our lives....

Living these as ifs in the midst of community creates the prophetic possibility at local level, the space for modelling how things could be, ought to be and will be one day."

And the kicker.......

This idea of the church being an "as if" people who live together like the Kingdom were "already here in it's fullness," is inspiring! ( and my additional note- "is challenging.")

As if. Laying down the hurt and tears I have for others. How ON EARTH do I live as if? 

(There are days I would rather run away. God give me strength and willingness to live "as if".)

How did you know?

Thank you to my nearest and dearest who sent me messages of comfort after Tuesday night's post. As one friend chuckled: "We always know when you are going through tough times because that's when we start getting lots of blog posts in our inbox!"  Too true! My safe space to get it out!

I have to do an update on the maths test. I held it together on Wednesday morning, took Luke to his early lesson, came home to find Adam heroically revising a few maths concepts. Got a call from Adam after dropping Jess at school to tell me about the conversation they had in the car on the way in. More or less the following...

Adam: "So Jess, good luck for your maths test today."

Jessica: "HOW did YOU know I had a maths test today? (peeved)"

Adam: "Mom told me."

Jessica: "But I didn't tell Mom."

Adam: "Why?"

Jessica: "Cos I didn't want her to know. How did she find out?!" (unimpressed look)

Adam: "She's Mom. She always knows."

Me: Grin! If only she knew that I didn't actually know about that one...

Jessica got 80% for the test - her teacher was so thrilled that at least one kid in the class was listening as apparently the marks were a bit dismal. Whew. Sigh of relief. This parenting thing is aging me!

(All those who prayed for me and Jessica - thank you from the bottom of my heart! And thank you God for somehow bringing all those maths concepts back to mind.)

Hoo boy.

Just seen what I posted last time. I think I'd better start reaching out for His kindness and grace because I feel like going BOOM.

Maths test. Tomorrow. It's 21.24. PM! How did I miss it? How did she not tell me about this test that is THE Maths test for Grade 4 final marks? Why did I assume the "maths test" mentioned in emails is the bonds test on Friday.

Please God, extend your kindness and grace to her and help her remember and work things out clearly tomorrow as she writes that exam. Because if it was up to me, I would wake her up at 5am to start studying. And right now I am considering removing every book from my house (and her room).

Grace. Kindness. Not anger. Mommy-fail moment. Overwhelmed at this miss. Annoyed at the note found tonight at the bottom of the book bag that came home over 2 weeks ago with a list of all there is to learn. Angry at the attitude.

Grace. Kindness. Not to destroy with my temper.

Grace. She is just 10 and struggling to find her way through life and school.

Kindness. Push aside the disappointment.

Kindness.

#HelpMeGodBeGraceAndKindness

Let me...

A good prayer to pray at the beginning of two weeks of events and good craziness that includes birthdays, astronauts, ballet practices and performance, parties, art, school meetings, family, homework, tennis trials, client meetings, cooking, stationery, work, music practice and more.

Selah. Pause. Reflect.

Thank you God that you are kind... and that you offer grace. Please hold onto me because I know my hold on you might slip.

boring!

I don't want to be boring. Which is why, when challenged to leap into Dalebrook Pool last month on Spring Day - Friday, 1 September, 8.30am, no wetsuit - I said yes.

For once in Cape Town it was not raining on Spring Day. Because it HAS rained on every Spring Day for the last 7 years, to my recall. I don't recall before that. Probably because I was dealing with 1-3 year olds (hee hee).

It was darn cold. Very cold. Exceptionally cold. I froze. It was worth it. Fully alive and shivering. And so not a boring thing to do at 44!  Especially the bit where I stood on a sea urchin and had to wait 2 weeks for the spine to come out on it's own.

Do it again? Yes. With wet shoes? Definitely. Oi vey! Here's to the not-boring me!

Let me look.

stories. life. yet.

But Mom, it’s so hard to write, said the small girl. My words come out wrong and my tongue gets all lost and I don’t know where I am.

Ah yes, said mom, I have the same problem. I don’t ever know where to begin.

But mom, said the small girl, you can tell stories.

Tell, yes, write, um, now that is a bit harder - mom sighed - I want to write stories that catch your heart, that jerk that tear from your eye that you tried to hold onto with everything in you. I don’t know how to do that.

But you can write silly poems! The small girl huffed.

I can write silly poems and I can see the God-stuff. But I want to write it too. The achingly bare skeletons of us that he clothes with hope and his glory which is just every breath that we breathe. For today. Those are the stories I want to write, about how we find him in the sink when we are washing up or the phone call we make or just the flight of a seagull as it wheels over us in a cloudy storm-grey sky. Somehow that stuff doesn’t make it into a story. It makes it into my blog. Along with purple bottomed frogs and little girls lost. Sometimes I feel like the small boy who is so very talented with his drawing but who cries because he cannot draw the real thing into life.

What am I good at? asks the small girl hopefully.

Science and life and dancing and reading. It takes all of those things to find out that actually it’s about who you are inside, not what you do on the outside, said mom.

I’m not good at sport and I am not good at homework and I am not good at friends. The small girl drooped.

Oh yes you are, my little chicken. You are alive and you give great hugs and you can do whatever you try, if you will just try. You’ve got the gift of people and being interested and curious. Many people don’t have that gift. Just beYOUtiful. People will see that in you.

The small girl picked up her book to escape for a while. Mom does the same thing. Someone else’s writing…

With the realization that yes, I am a storyteller. But the stories are not really mine but his, aching in me. They don’t come out in the shape I look for. They often come out with tears and upside down and even downside up. My daughter is a storyteller too. She just has not found out yet. It’s hard to ache when you don’t know why. Yet. It's almost harder to ache when you do know why. But it would be harder still NOT to ache. 

If you notice I have tears...

"Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is summoning you to where, if your soul is to be saved, you should go next."

Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark

I'll take it and hold it close today

Seems like Tuesdays are blogdays. And rainy days. The cats are fighting in the kitchen, the kids were grumping out the door on the way to school at 7am (they should have left at 6.50) and small boy had a melt down over his lunch box. Which is not where it should be so it's his problem. "Mom, you never do anything for me!" while he was standing in front of a pile of school lunch which he did not make in clothes that he did not pay for and with hair I just helped him slick back into a man-do. "I don't want to eat that stuff!" Aha. Then start eating other stuff, like ham, cheese, tomato on bread, jam... the world could be your sandwich if you would just eat it!

It's funny how I/we have the same thoughts and opinions in an adult version. Light bulb moment. When actually there is stuff that I/we need to do ourselves to set ourselves up for success. Take small girl, for example. She would have actually eaten breakfast if she had not been reading while getting dressed (which reminds me, the cat is probably nose deep in her bowl of uneaten oats... uno momento...)

OK, saved.

Shew. "My-world" moments. Had a tough one last night. Netball is not our friend right now. More girls = less games = not in A or B team or sometimes any team. Ouch. Gr 1-3 was fun, Grade 4 has been discriminatory and unfriendly because matches are not really friendly matches any more. And more kids means less personal input. Small girl wanted to quit, was fine for not being chosen for any teams and is glad it's raining today so there might not be practice. My long-legged loves-to-be-included girl. How to keep the flame of enjoyment alive when disillusion sets in?

I think it all comes back to identity. Actually, that's what God has been quietly pointing out every time I surface, look around, look within. Knowing who you are so you are rooted.

And, as Danny Silk spoke about on Sunday (what a fab meeting to be in - such solid teaching even if his examples were not 100% scientific - er hm, Adam!), it's also about community. Being linked into a network of your people. Who love you for you. Who you love. Those 30m high redwoods have a root system that goes only 2m deep, but kilometres wide. Interlacing with the redwoods next to them, and over the next ridge, and more and more and more.

#LoveGodLovePeople and #BeLovedByGodBeLovedByPeople. They're so intertwined.

Had a Pete Greig moment on Sunday evening: "God speaks to us more about the who than He does about the what, why and when of life." Who we are in His eyes. How precious, special, loved. How much He delights in our loving Him back.

In all the rush-out-the-door today, small boy still gave me a kiss. It's a precious kiss because it was a grumpy kiss. But it was a kiss for me. In all the morass of mornings and sticking up hair and lost lunchboxes, it said "I love you." I'll take it and hold it close today.

With hands and non-judgement and with faith and with prayer

It's kind of fab. I just re-read last week's post. Only to have an "aha" moment and realise that the guy who preached on Sunday spoke on Ecclesiastes (and I quoted it last week). So many things tie up in so very many ways. Divine connecting knots. I love the fun of discovering the connections and although I can't see the pattern or whole picture, I know that one day I will.

So, Tuesday morning blogging. Damp outside. Cold. Warm heart. Just had a quick mostly-work chat with a dear friend. Feeling richer for the moments we shared. Cup of coffee and slice of banana bread. Very rich.

This morning I watched a clip about Martyn Ashton. A guy who could do it all on a mountain bike, and then some, and then he crashed and became paralysed. Now he is back on a bike thanks to mates that believed, with him, that he could ride again. I shared the video on my FB page. It's worth watching. No legs, hectic downhill race.

So I don't have to be perfect. But I can still do the race. If I fall over, I have friends to put me back on the bike. I've had a few fall over moments recently. Thank you to those who help to put me back without just shouting corrections, but with hands and non-judgement and with faith and with prayer.

"Oh God, help me to be a friend who does the same. And a mom who doesn't just whack "issues" away, but sees and shapes the hearts of my children with kind but firm hands. As You do with me."

#TheRace

The value of a cucumber

To my dearest mommy friends, let me tell you about the value of having a cucumber in the veggie drawer in the fridge!

I woke up this morning with serious bags under my eyes and consulted Google (as one does, for everything from itches to how to stop yelling at your kids, and a few other unmentionable things which I must not share or that would be oversharing). And I learnt that I must cut out salt, alcohol, take care of allergies, remove my make up, try a Neti pot (what on earth is a Neti pot??) and stop drinking my dehydrating coffee. Nix on that one!

Oh, and I must start exercising. Which I do try to do. Bend, peg the clothes. Fetch a small child from school and circle the school 3 times looking for said small child. Push a heavily laden shopping trolley around PnP 3-4 times to find whatever is on sale that we need, and refuse the services of the car guard to load and go. Load the dishwasher. Travel around the house a million times a day to relocate items... I'm perhaps exaggerating and definitely digressing.

Cucumber! Not in the first 8 things Google listed, but an old and tried remedy. Remarkably cooling. Definite visible results. And when you are done, a healthy snack. Try it, all you moms out there. And grandparents (yes Dad, you too can try cucumber).

Now I am off to find my cup of rooibos tea for the morning in an attempt to rehydrate. Ugh. Yip, it's Tuesday.

Oh, this is meant to be a spiritual blog too. Nearly forgot in the quest for cooling cucumber. By the way, putting a cucumber behind your cat does NOT work in our house (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67WmZE4A_GI).

Ah, Ecclesiastes. There is a time for everything. Today's aha moment is "there is a time to embrace and a time to refrain". So true with small people. And big ones too.

And with today being the secret ballot of (no)confidence in Mr JZ, there's also definitely a time to pray for our country and our drought. No rain, no cucumbers.

One of THOSE moments

Ha, so my challenge is to live in the moment. But what about when you have one of THOSE moments? You know, one of those PARENTING moments.

My small boy has taken to shouting at me. And when I asked him yesterday why he doesn't shout at his teacher, his confident reply (like "Duh, Mom") was "because you get into more trouble at school than you do at home if you shout at your teacher." Take that, parenting guru, aka Mom, aka me! Ouch.

I'm wondering how to up the ante at home now. Should it just be the wooden spoon, or can I come up with some sufficiently evil mom device to ram his shouting down his throat? I'm searching for some inspiration here. Huff.

On the other hand, I have skillz! Picking the small girl up yesterday meant going through school aftercare, where there was a soccer game on. And when a ball rolled in our direction, I neatly kicked it through my small boy's legs back to a couple of drop-jawed, wide-eyed boys who looked at Luke and said "Your mom's got skillz!" Mental mom high five. And of course, a chance to rub it in whenever I can. A mom's got to do what a mom's got to do and take every gap she gets to show she has skillz.

I feel taken for granted this morning. Got up, made lunches, cut hair, ironed small girls new uniform (arghghghgh - two shirts, a skirt and 2 pairs of socks were R700!!! No wonder I dreamt about paying bills all night), had to find lunchboxes, tidy kitchen and still get yelled at by small boy because, due to missing lunch box he left in the car, he didn't have a lunch box! Somehow that was my fault.

Now my nearest and dearest never takes me for granted (I'm smiling at the beautiful flowers I got this weekend, and sighing over the kiss and cup of coffee that woke me this morning from the paying bill dreams). But my smaller nearests and dearests are seriously making me want to whack them in the moment. How DO I teach them manners? Sometimes it feels like the courtesy of my man is just not rubbing off. Witness small boy shoving past his sister instead of standing back to let her get up. Or pushing past her to get to the bathroom first. Oi vey. Gentleman?

OK: need a prayer for today. Um. Dear Lord, help me to have manners too? And oh, help me to stop yelling as a default please!

#BeingReal#BeingInTheMoment#JustMom#FindingMe

(A)Live in the moment

Dancing balloons or drones taking pictures early in the morning (Jess and I visited a new church's opening service yesterday).

How do I make sure that I live in the moment? Disengaged from tech, alive to warm berg winds that will blow my washing dry today super fast, hearing what small people say, alert for the God-moment that might just be a smile or wave.

This is my challenge to myself for the week. To be IN the picture, not just taking the picture.

My thought for today...

I'm not too sure there is one (grin).  A late night and 5.45 alarm means a very bleary me this morning. Still yawning my way around the house. Which is surprisingly tidy today. Very surprising!

Research for the day: rain water tanks. To save you all the trouble, the cheapest 5000L JoJo tank to purchase and bring home today is at Pennypinchers for R5000 including delivery (which is important because the delivery guys have to roll it over the roof). Cheapest overall - if you can wait another 3 weeks - is Makro at R4699 for online only orders. Not sure if that includes delivery. The reason for the research is the article I read about water in CT going forward, or rather the estimated lack of it. Did you know that 1m of roof gives 1 L of water, and that's just if there's a little shower. You can fill a 5000L tank in all of an hour if you get a decent downpour. Wow. Oh, and BTW current rainfall predictions show less than 1/3 of normal rainfall is expected for the rest of the year too. (Quick prayer here!)

We've also evaluated our household use and so far, we are at 60L/day for the whole family. Which is pretty good use of water. Shower water is used for flushing, and flushing doesn't happen unless it really needs to. Certain smaller people just forget anyway. Ick. But that does save water :)  We had a guest the other day who asked which bucket he should use to flush. Now that takes hosting to a new level. Not to mention friendship.

Did I tell you about the time I put the hose from the washing machine into the rubbish bin to collect the water and completely flooded the laundry? So much for saving water. I was rather cross and very damp as I mopped for hours. The new plan is to find a plan to get the grey water out to the lawns or to a tank for reuse. Without flooding the laundry. Or me. Aha. More research.

Could it be I am avoiding work? Ah, my coffee is ready, so there's a valid excuse to say goodbye to this rather pedestrian post.

Oh, thought for the day. Thanks Google. "Be the motivation. Not the distraction." Huh?? Ok, that's it. I am seriously not firing on any cylinders this morning. Don't get it. But I am going to get that coffee. Have a fab day all. x

Sparkles on ice

I've just got back from Ceres. A last minute agony of deciding whether or not to go. Mid-Sunday morning invite which saw me wrestling with fear of going with just the kiddies and no safety net or comfort (i.e. my Adam). Kids were keen, of course, desperately hoping to see snow. So, I pulled on my big-girl panties, loaded us all up by and we went sans Adam at 1pm, filling our bags with whatever was at home to take.

Some thoughts on the experience...
1. The driving was not as hard as I feared.
2. The roads were quieter than I expected.
3. Jessica COULD make 2 hours without a wee - yippee. And 2 hours without eating everything in sight.
4. It was colder than predicted, a lot colder.
5. Our little Honda Jazz is fab to drive, even in the rain and mist, on wet dirt roads.
6. It was good to have friends joining us on the other side.
7. Remember the chocolate next time!
8. Waterproofs for kids. Get more!
9. Late night clouds with minus 8 windchill are to be recommended.
10. Early morning oooh's when the kids saw the frost - wonderful! Playing with ice even better.

So, at 44, how old do I feel? I guess I do feel 44. The trick is to use all that life experience and not shelve it or become fearful of living. To take the occasional unplanned (long) drive on the off-chance of seeing snow.

Things to ponder now that I am back home. I am so glad I went!

(Thanks Val for the encouragement, Adam for the push and kisses goodbye/hello and trust).

Vivi living unplanned more!

The Cross(ing)

I woke up this morning and hopped onto FB to find out if the little girl swept off the rocks at Betty's Bay on Saturday afternoon has been found. Just seven, a big wave, gone. So very sad for her parents who are asking all the "what if" questions and living the "if only".

Life is so very fragile. I've waved my family off this morning. No guarantees that the small (very annoying da-da-tee-da-whoop-punch-sister boy) will throw himself into my arms later. Kisses at all times are mandatory for everyone in our home. So are hugs, and we are working on patience. Especially for purple-bottomed frogs (aka daughters who hop out of the room wearing purple leggings and not much else).

Thank you to 247 Prayer for sending your email this morning. It helps with perspective in a world that holds both purple bottom frogs and little girls lost. Feeling daunted? Even in their despair, that family is thanking the teams searching. Giving strength to those who come to comfort them. Now that is "no greater love". I am awed. They are living this out in a world of waves crashing onto rocks...

Whatever is going on in the world, fix your eyes on Jesus, and be a hope-bringer to the world. Irrespective of everything else, the Vision is Jesus.

And that, I believe, is also our hope. That little girls lost and purple bottom frogs are safe in His arms, even if we cannot hold them in our arms. In less than the time it took for one wave to wash that one rock, they can be in His arms, carried to safety. 

Such joy. Such pain. 

This is the Cross(ing).

Ode to my down jacket

Oh jacket mine
With your down so fine
It is truly sublime
To construct this rhyme

Your feathers are so soft
You have wonderful loft
As the rain trickles down
You remove my frown

Where once I was shivering
And hopping and dithering
Now I can concentrate
Thanks to YOU, Down Jacket, My True Mate

(This had to be written! Truly, from shivering to warm. Not embarrassed to join the puffy-jacket league.)

Nike.

"You're going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs — your truth, your version of things — in your own voice. That's really all you have to offer us, and that's also why you were born." 
- Anne Lamott shares 12 truths I learnt

Interesting lady. Truths to grapple with. I'd recommend reading her speech, or watching it. But that leaves me sitting here this morning parsing through the many thoughts tumbling through my head and the stuff layering up in my heart. And wondering what I need to write today.

Exams. Jess wrote exams. Her spelling killed her English mark (and my writer within crumbles in despair) but at the same time she shone in other areas. Are her marks a reflection of the effort I put in to helping her? Or my frustration at the "I don't want to study"? Not sure I want to reflect too deeply on this. My dearest friend shared how much she had learnt about her daughter's learning style in this time. I think I learnt about my frustration levels and lack of patience. Ick. Shove that thought somewhere where I don't have to examine it. It's a bit like dog poo. It smells and spreads.

My version of things? Hmm. Now that is an interesting concept, Anne Lamott. My writing is actually my version. And I guess that some people won't like it. But then this life is my version, my struggles, my falling and my climbing back up. Hopefully to grace. Lifted by grace.

Work. Ew. Don't feel like it. House work. I'm not going there. Monica did not arrive today and I'm stuck between grumpy, resigned and slightly ashamed of my reliance on help to clean our home once a week. It's a bit pathetic, isn't it? And yes I do provide employment for someone else which enables them to live, but really? Ultimate display of wealth?

Oh dear, this post is rather morbid this morning. It comes from reading news, watching Knysna fires and feeling a bit isolated in my study. Best snap to it and get busy with the banner ad I need to put together, a website I can update and a comms session I have to host next week. Mom's version of an oral.

Grateful for the rain still trickling down and the drips I hear from the gutter. The pool is overflowing, the geese are yabbering on next door's roof and the sun just peered through a cloud and vanished again. Our trees look a little bit like they have been caught without leaves on, mildly embarrassed, although it wasn't their fault that the storm stripped them so mercilessly last week. I have planting veggie gardens on my list of things to do, rearranging the pavers in the back garden, mowing the lawn (the one patch that is green and thriving where the outlet pipe comes out), tidying my house, lots of amassed washing... oh you know.

Nike. Just do it is a-good-kick-in-the-pants sometimes. Whoever reads this, please take a moment to do the thing that kickstarts you today. xx

Just another week...

I have to chuckle. A friend asked me how my week had been on Sunday, and I said "Normal." Then I had some time to think about it. What is normal in our house?

Last week we had two Dutch guests staying for a couple of nights. Luke developed a ringworm on his face. There were netball matches and the resulting pick-me-up of somewhat nasty team mates who completely ignored my Jess in the congratulations. Then we had the usual early morning dashes out the door and cries of Mom-Mom-Mo-om. A couple of deadlines to meet in the midst. Lots of loads of washing. Shouts of "there's a drought at the moment - move it" whenever a small boy showered. Oh, and Jess's best friend left the school so that was another item on the late night talk it through list to navigate. I think I'm missing a few things. It seems a bit blurred. Dad's birthday, Rachi's birthday, Craig's birthday, Megan's birthday and quite a few other BDs. One goodbye - my cousin's ex-fiance died in a car crash on Sat night. So very sad for his family and for my cousin.

This week? I have a cat on my lap this morning as I type. It's Wednesday and we have fitted in a ballet lesson, cross country, netball, tennis and hockey practice, a trip to the periodontist for implants for Adam (stage 1), coffee with a special friend (highlight!), major document deadline, washing and more washing, website optimisation, a frantic client, several more docs, a finance recon, hitting PnP for milk and bread twice in 3 days. Um. Think I am missing something? Ah, let me not forget my flu.

Ops normal. Full week. Privileged. Realised afresh how very very privileged I am to live in a nice house in a safe area where I don't have to stress about no hot water, no toilets, being cold. Desperately wish that that wasn't the case for so many people I have met through work and that I serve through my NPOs.

A week in Africa. Very different depending who you are. I really cherish the moments. And my special people. If you're reading this, you are one of them!

Hasta la vista blogspot. The day awaits!

Tank full

It's been a good week. Lots happening. School stuff, home stuff, work stuff. Stuff. Pool stuff. Life stuff. Feeling bone weary stuff. Church stuff. Friend stuff. Family stuff. Like I said, a good week.

Full, alive, real, messy. And that is life. Moments when you get to snuggle against the person you share life with. Moments when you have to be brave and persevere in things despite the 4.30am wake ups due to kids or stressing about the choices you made the day before. And then the celebrations of tasks finished, of new seasons starting, old seasons ending. Some not really celebrations as they whizz past before you can stop.

My watch tells me to breathe every hour or so. I am trying to stop. Breathe. Whisper "hello God". See what is around me. Right now I am thankful for the week that has been. For fierce small hugs, "just one more question" and shared smiles. Glimpses of glory in everyday things and people. Breathe. Glimpse. Breathe.

Thankful.

Create | Renew

"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me".

This morning's scripture round the table.
Create: you have to do it God. It's not there.
In me: Yip, that's me. It's not there.
A pure heart: Not a perfect heart, rather a heart that is clean. One that lives washed by your love and grace and forgiveness, not clouded with grumpiness, hormones, life or stress.
O God: That's you!
Renew: Make new again. Take back to original setting. Not just recondition, but to make new, fresh, sparkly, young, alive. I'm a bit worn out and old here in this regard.
A steadfast spirit within me: A steady, not swayed by emotions and things, holding-fast-to-you kind of spirit INSIDE me, not on my sleeve. That's me in the in-most place.

Yip. A needed prayer whispered from the bottom of my heart as I stop and step back from slow internet, work piling up, wet bed linen from a little accident this morning, dishes, laundry to be folded, calls to Telkom and AfriHost, the to do list...

"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me."

It's bed time

First day back at school and I am baking choc chip cookies for ME to eat tonight. While dealing with tween fit-in, good-enough emotions that always seem to surface after 8.30pm (which is at least 45 minutes after we've switched the lights off).

My new low-gi oaty no flour choc chip recipe is definitely not as good as my usual Nigella recipe. I'm not sure that my advice to my young girl tonight is that good either. Either way, we'll all eat the biscuits (and advice) and try another round when I muster up enough energy to make more. Shew, term 2 arrived almost out of nowhere.

God, I need you to be the friend my daughter is longing for at school. Please. And could you fulfil that promise you made? The one about bringing her good friends at school, who will play with her and do things with her? I can hold her hand, whisper truth, and pray for her to have hope, but this stuff, it's in your hands. I remember feeling like she does when I was 9 and three quarters.

Amen. And now I'm going to fall into bed and curl up next to my best friend. I'm really glad you introduced me to him, by the way. I would say sweet dreams to you, but I know you don't sleep because you are watching over me/us. x

Hope

Borrowed from this post. So true.

My amazing hubby dealt with buckets of vomit at 2pm on Sunday night, small boy's birthday pancakes on Monday morning at 6.30am, Lego construction and his mom's cellphone when he got home at 6pm, dragged Jessica's blankets and bed to our room at 9.30pm last night, two false alarms in the workshop in the wee wee hours and still brought me coffee this morning.

Here's the blog copied. And by the way - we plan to keep snogging in the kitchen oftener! Take that, punctuation Nazis.

Fifty Shades of Hope: A letter to my husband 

[From the archives. Happy Valentine’s Week.]

Dear you

I was chopping tomatoes when Cam said:

‘Mommy, I’ve seen you and Dad having one of your special cuddles.’

I gave a calm non-committal oh... Feigned intense fascination with rearranging the lettuce…

And later you and I conferred in whispered alarm: It couldn’t possibly have been that kind of special cuddle, could it?

But it made me think.

Maybe our boys should see us snogging in the kitchen more often, even if it grosses them out.

And even though you come home grey-faced after long days and I keep finding grey hairs in the mirror, maybe we need to paint for them the bright colours of marriage because the world doesn’t need any more grey. There are too many grey lives botched and blotched by sin, suffering and complacency. Marriages choking lonely and frustrated and sliding insidious into grey areas in a desperate attempt to find hope.

I want our boys to see that hope is the colour of laughter splashed over breakfast tantrums and the crazy rush and mess of life.

Hope is the colour of supper on the stove and the gate opening to say you’re home. It’s the colour of tea and fudge – the sacred caramel quiet of you-and-me that closes the door on anything else clamouring for first place.

Hope is the colour of late night prayer and past-present-future wonderings and musings, worries and misgivings, that keep on driving us back to God whose hope palette never runs dry.

Hope is the colour of scrolling through news and standing on the brink of the future’s gut-twisting unknowns and knowing I don’t stand there alone.

It’s the colour of my hand finding yours when we’re singing in church to magnify again God’s great Name above the hopeless state of the nation and the worse state of the world so that we can hear again the calling that clears our vision.

I hear the colour of hope in your voice when you scold the boys for disrespecting their mom.

It’s tattooed on your arms when you hold Scott tight to stem his tears.

And when Cam comes with big questions and we have ridiculously insufficient answers because we’ll never explain away his journey or understand exactly how the world comes at him – then hope is the colour of your eyes holding mine soft and steady, because I know you’d rather face the questions and the anger with me than with anyone else.

Your old-school choices are hope-stained because we’re one flesh and the integrity of your soul colours mine.

Hope is all the shades of knowing that, for better or worse, we’ll keep finding each other in velvet nights at the end of the rest of all our days. Your all-of-me, John Legend kind of love – the kind that says I’m enough – drenches and dyes me in techni-coloured hope.

So I don’t need grey pages of mommy porn or big-screen turn-ons to keep the love bright and burning.

Because by God’s grace I have you.

And I have hope.

Love,

Me

https://dalenereyburn.com/2017/02/18/fifty-shades-of-hope-a-letter-to-my-husband-2/

Words from 2014... still true today

Upside down kingdom
A king who came to die
Rich who serve the poor
Prayer that moves heaven
Truth that brings healing
Worship that echoes love and
Words that speak a world into being
And I stand in the midst of it all
Amazed

That in my perceived world of power and IT and games
The truth is an upside down kingdom
The truth is that I am not insignificant
My voice moves His heart
My hands change the fabric of this daily life
Life is marked by the tears and joy of the God
Who rules an upside down kingdom

This is an Upside down kingdom
This is a king who came to die
We are the Rich who serve the poor
We pray the Prayer that moves heaven
We know Truth that brings healing
Our Worship echoes love and
Our Words speak His world into being
And We stand in the midst of it all
Amazed


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Updside down kingdom
25 May 2014

2017. This is my prayer.