Stuff to Do

I discovered a few things about myself recently. I like being in control of my immediate universe. So things that I do not control, I do not like. Like eczema/allergies. I do the best I can to manage it, but when I hear the sound of one of my children ripping their skin to shreds, my blood pressure goes up instantly. If I'm driving, I start to speed. There are many things in my life right now that are absolute chaos. Yes, I have a lot happening. And much of it, I can't control. Acknowledging that, and embracing it, have put me on a path to a much more peaceful place. Taking a different perspective, and seeing The Crazy as a positive, rather than a negative, has made it a bit easier to not lose my wits. Oh, sure - when you walk in the lounge room and see your five year old fingerpainting mostly on paper but spilling out onto carpet, it's a challenge to offer up peace and patience. But it's a bit easier than before, because now I'm embracing the fact that they're

Alternatively titled "Did my water just break???" So at 35 weeks and 5 days, I had to ask myself that question. I rang the hospital, and the midwives said to come in and get checked. I was home alone with the baby, as L had gone to visit his sister with the two older girls, and wasn't due back until the following day. I didn't ring him straight away, because I didn't know quite what was happening. Until I was making a sandwich for the baby, and it became abundantly clear that yes, my waters had broken. A lot. So, one friend came to stay with baby M, and one drove me to the hospital. I was admitted, and monitored, given steroid injections to mature the baby's lungs, antibiotics for an infection, and instructed to wait. With each shift change the plan would change a bit, but basically, I was there until our son was born. Whether he came early or not. So I spent 3 nights and 2 days waiting in hospital for labour to start, and had some pretty convincing contractio

In this season, I wait. I wait to meet our newest family member, I wait to figure out how we will all blend to make a complete picture. I feel this need to organise everything RIGHT NOW, to know all that is unknown. I wonder if I will be enough for everyone, how I will spread myself even further. It's not a question of love. That part is easy enough. Of course I have enough love. But time, that is trickier. Perhaps it's a question of time management. After all, we are all given the same amount of time in a day, so maybe the challenge is how I choose to use the time given to me? Of course I'm busy. Of course I have my hands full. But I don't see it as something impossible. Will I always get it right? Nope. But I will love my family, as well as I can, for as long as I can. It's why I was put on this earth. To love. And the fact that I've been given so many people to love speaks to that. They are my paparazzi, for better or for worse. I am more desired and in deman

I was reminded this morning of a statement that I've encountered, in various forms, many times over the last few years. "God doesn't call the equipped. He equips the called." Another variant I've seen is this: "God doesn't ask so much about our ability as He does our availability." It is easy to feel ordinary when my day consists of preparing food that may or may not be eaten, wiping bottoms, shuffling people to various locations, washing dishes, vacuuming floors, and scrubbing toilets. It's easy to get stuck in a rut of "why does it matter, no one cares or even notices what I do, poor me" each and every moment of each and every day. Want to know a secret? It matters. It matters because I was called, equipped, and chosen. Not someone else, but me. And you too. So the next time you might feel like you're insignificant, remember that you are chosen to be who you are, where you are, when you are. You are the only you there is, and that

I've been pondering this question today. The short answer is that a long time ago, possibly in my teens, I gave up on my dreams, and adopted ones that belonged to someone else. Dreams that were more realistic. Which makes them less like dreams, I suppose. So how do I get back to a point in life when I know what my dreams are? I'm talking about the dreams that exist only for me, and not the dreams that I think I should have because someone else I admire has that dream. Don't misunderstand. I love my family, I love my life as a wife and mother. I strive to do those things well, and I enjoy them immensely. But those things are not the things that drive me. It is what I do, but not so much who I am as an individual. I started by examining what my gifts are. Singing, writing, and cooking came immediately to mind. Doing any one of those three things can make the outside world disappear. I am focused, steady, and at my absolute calmest when I am doing them. Then I thought about ho

It's Saturday morning. I was awake at 5:37, making a bottle and a cup of coffee. Once upon a time, I would have been horrified at the thought of being awake that early on a Saturday morning. Part of me still rebels, hoping against all hope that I'll get a reprieve and be able to sleep in. But a larger part of me relishes these quiet moments. The moments when I am free to sit, pray, read, plan, think, and just be. When no one is shouting for me to Come.And.Wipe.My.Bottom. When the sound of children's television is absent. When the only thing I can hear is birds, waking up for the day, the light snoring of my baby, some cars on the highway (very faintly), and the sound of my own heart, faithfully beating out the rhythm of my life. I love my life, and I wouldn't trade it for another. I wouldn't trade the poo-splosions, the tantrums, the workload, the broken sleep, the inability to remember if I've showered recently, the neverending cycle of housework, the complete

I have two mothers. First, there's the woman who gave birth to me, and for the first 19 years of my life, was the only mother I knew. Her part in my story isn't finished, though she might pretend otherwise. I hope and pray for reconciliation between us, but that is entirely up to her. Then there's the woman who became my mom when I was 20. The woman who had many 'bathroom chats' with me, about life-altering decisions. Don't ask me why they always occur in the bathroom, they just do. She taught me to drive. She's the mom who walked down the aisle with me when I got married the first time, the one who was there for me when it all fell apart. The one who traveled to Texas to help me start rebuilding my life. The one who was generous enough to open her home (and heart) to my new boyfriend (and now husband!), and was there to celebrate my marriage to him. She was there to celebrate with us when we fell pregnant the first time, and a short time later, she dried my

But I'll keep writing anyway. I'd signed up for this writing challenge, to post once a day - and because of the time difference, I messed it up and missed a day. Oh well. It's not like I don't have enough to keep me busy, after all! And really, since I walk around composing things in my head non-stop (what? Don't you ALL do that?), it's not like I haven't been writing - just haven't put fingers to keyboard. Back to Bible study today, hooray!!! Now off for a cup of tea and some breakfast. Catch you later! XO, Sarah

But It is my family, and at this point, you don't get to decide how many babies we have. I may not have wanted this child before, but I'll fight anyone who says he or she shouldn't be born because the world is overpopulated enough. Maybe it will be hard - and maybe it won't. Maybe the birth will be hard - and maybe it won't. Maybe we'll have a boy - or maybe a girl. Maybe this, Maybe that. In the light of reality, all those 'maybes' don't matter to me. The reality is that this child is here, he or she is loved, wanted, and cherished, and today, that's enough. I refuse to worry about 6 months from now. It's pointless. And maybe, just maybe, that's the way it's supposed to be. XO, Sarah

May be. I hope that May will be a month of gratitude. Of waking up each morning and thanking God for every single thing in my life. From the breath in my lungs, to the smell of wet dog in my bathroom. From the little people who call out "Mooom, come wipe my bottom!?!?", to the sound of my baby 'talking' to her toy squeaking chick. From the desperate hunger for fast food that turns into nausea when I actually eat it. From the sun rising, to the moon which takes its place. That I would be more aware of the world around me, and more thankful for it. That I would SEE more, FEEL more. BE more, and DO less. That I would notice small things, and appreciate them as big. Thanks for listening, Sarah

We've been back from camping for over a week, and it's taking a while to get settled back in. It's school holidays, so I haven't had quite as much freedom to write a blog post here and there. We've also been dealing with some stuff, more on that at a later date. Quickie update on the family: L: Feverishly working in the garden, preparing for his parents to come live here. Me: Insanely busy, been a bit tired (thank you, anemia!). I made some bagels the other day, and they were so good that we ate all twelve. Fresh from the oven, with cream cheese - it transported me back in time, to when I was a kid and would go with my dad to this place called "The Valiant Trencherman", where they had amazing bagels. I am also trying to design a new sleeve for my travel coffee cup - I'm not a computer whiz though, so it's a bit challenging. C: Has been randomly 'mooning' me, and however non-parental it might be, I laugh so hard I can't tell her that it&

There's something to that expression, though my interpretation may be probably is different than the original. If I give God the very best of me, my days go so much better. And even when they don't, I lose my cool far less often. I am clothed in the full armour of God, and that's as well-dressed as anyone can hope to be! If I give God the last of me, like in the 30 seconds before I go to bed as an afterthought, my days tend to be awful. Truly awful. Well, not like Sodom and Gomorrah awful, but relatively speaking, it's not pretty. Think 'before' on an episode with Trinny and Susannah. I'm on day 3 of praying with my children in the morning, and reading them a bible story (though it tends to bring up questions that I'm not sure how to explain in a relevant manner), and through praying with them, praying for them, I find that I'm getting better at praying in general. I am also 'losing it' far less often, which is something I'm incredibly t

Armour of God. Ephesians 6:11 - ???. The last couple of days, I've been reflecting on that particular passage, and how it translates to my daily life. Breaking it down into pieces, it goes like this: Belt of Truth: Without spending time in God's word, without clothing myself in His truth, I'm not surprised that my spiritual pants are saggy. Breastplate of Righteousness: Mine kinda looks more like a clean shirt than a breastplate, but I can tell you that when I got dressed this morning, I had praise in my heart. Shoes of Peace: Again, mine are more like sneakers, but I'm not surprised that we haven't had a peaceful household, because I tend to forget this one almost every day. Not today though, and it's showing! Shield of Faith: I confess. Mine is an apron. But when I put it on in the morning, I call it a shield, and as I tie that shield around my waist, I pray for a stronger faith, for a more childlike faith, for faith that will shield me from all the flamin

I am me, which is okay. Though I could lose the temper tantrums (mine, not the kids') and I wish I were better at being a Christian, and I also wish I was the sort of mother who loves cooking and doing craft with her children. I'm not for the record. I find it extremely stressful, and it requires that I eat loads of chocolate (in secret) afterwards. But I digress. I love my family. Imperfectly. But I have a heart that desperately wants to serve them and love them, and I hope that God honours that, and not my mistakes. Which are plentiful. I want so much to be the woman God has created me to be. Not perfect, but better. More. I want to wake up every morning saying "Good Morning, Lord! " instead of "Good LORD it's morning?!?" I want to have praise in my heart and on my lips. I want to clean up spilled Sultana Bran and Rice Bubbles with a smile, because it won't be long before there are not spills to clean up. I want so desperately to actively seek God