Stuff to Do

I wasn't well yesterday. Like, "I spent most of the day in bed, with shingles pain in my scalp" unwell. Unfortunately, this did not seem to be evident to my children, who didn't hesitate to come in and ask me for things, despite their father being RIGHT NEXT TO ME. I digress... Two things became crystal clear: 1. Either I don't have boundaries, or 2. They are invisible. I asked one of our children "Last Saturday when Dad was laid up with a migraine, did you ask him for anything?" Her response: "No." "And why is that?" "Because he was sick." People, my eyebrows may have touched the back of my head. Paddocks need boundaries, and so do I - but where to start? In the past, when I've embarked on a boundary mission, it's been more about giving the children boundaries, and it's exhausting. It relies on ME to build, reinforce, patrol, and hold the boundary, four times over. Initially it succeeds, but let&

As my 45th birthday approached, I wasn't feeling very good about it. I'm overweight, not in the most fantastic health, I've only just worked out what I want to be when I grow up, I feel like a mediocre domestic, and I'm happy, most of the time. I love Jesus, I love my family. I try to love the people around me. The thing that was kind of freaking me out was that 45 is kind of close to *looks around furtively*  50.  It's just a number, I know. It's also a whopping five years away. Jesus could come back before then.  The thing about that particular number though, is that when I was 25, (and I don't really remember because hello, 25 years, plus four children equals poor memory), I thought I'd be settled, or have stuff figured out. I thought I'd be  - I don't know, mature? Self-confident? Sigh.  I'm only just starting on the road to confident, and I'm definitely NOT mature. I have a few things figured out, but many more that

The truth is, it's hard. It's easy to say "You should bring your children to church."  - when someone is looking from a vantage point where that seems simple and straightforward. I want my children and my husband to share my faith, to want to worship - but I am finding that the sheer physical effort involved in getting my children to church, without emotional blackmail, is sometimes too great. What is the takeaway from church when I've spent the morning screaming and ranting at my loved ones to "GET DRESSED NOW AND GET IN THE CAR!!!" I'm not spending the next hour in worship - I'm feeling guilty, hypocritical, and just ugly. When church becomes more about making sure we have our church faces on, it's not about worship, it's about appearance.  I love Jesus, I know I'm not always good at living out my faith, and I struggle with anxiety, depression, trusting God with my emotions - but I keep trying. I want to live out my faith, fo

Things in my world are settling into a kind of pattern, even if it IS like a pattern drawn by a toddler holding a lipstick.  I've got many plates spinning, which is not news to anyone who knows me. Not unmanageable, but not really much room for navel-gazing either. This is not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. In fact, I'm about to be WAY TOO BUSY for any navel-gazing: -New Bible study/accountability group online -Existing Bible study -Volunteer work -Practical placement for my course -Studying -Therapy coordination -Translation project -Appointment coordinator for four children and myself -Project managing different household things -Working on health and fitness -Peer mentoring -Project "Get my kids to sleep in their own beds and not wake me up at night".  See? Many plates.  I know that as long as keep looking upward, and not sideways, this will all work out as it is meant to.  I know that. But does anyone else get tired jus

I was functional, but only just. Surviving each week, but not thriving or growing. Growing distant, maybe. In this weird zone of not happy but not unhappy either. Then? Things broke, and God showed me just how strong he is. The last two months have been hard. Full of dying to self, full of love, full of redemption and crazy faith. Full of healing, restoration, and truth. In order for the beginning of the new, we had to end the old, and trust me, it was one of those cliff-hanging chapters that have you thinking "How can THAT come out okay???" And yet, here I am. Tender, bruised, wary, but whole. Stepping into a completely new life, not knowing what comes next. For my part, I'm okay with that, and by "okay" I mean I trust that God has a plan, and that's enough for me. I haven't known how to write about this because it's not entirely my own story. It also belongs to others, and I want to respect their privacy. This is my blog though, and the story

It is difficult to put into words, this subtle yet monumental shift. Everything which seemed to be so important, yet so hard - suddenly it seems achievable. I am not certain what was in the way, or what has changed. Mountain of paperwork on my desk, taunting me for months now? Consider it flattened. Phone calls needing to be made? Done. Appointments needing to be scheduled? On the books. Exercise? Even I can manage ten minutes a day (it's a start) Drinking water? One sip at a time. Study? Can't wait. Cleaning my house? Only as much as I can handle in a half-hour. Doing something I love? Surely I can pull out a music book and practice singing, create something, or read for ten minutes (again, baby steps!) Even today, with one child home (asthma-related respiratory crud), and kids doing the opposite of getting ready for school, and a dog who can push the door open yet not closed (she too originated in Narnia I suspect, but can a dog be taught to close a door??

I'm a hider. Risk-averse -despite marrying a man after only knowing each other 15 months, and then following him overseas to build a life. No, apart from that, I do not like to take risks, gamble on the unknown. Consider the following: - I wouldn't speak a word of French until I was certain I could do it perfectly. My teacher was so impressed when I finally uttered my first sentence, she thought I was going to fail the class! - In spite of being a naturally talented vocalist, I gave it up because I can't bear audtioning for parts. - When I joined the Navy to be a linguist, I could have chosen any language, but I chose Spanish because I was certain I'd be good at it. I was an excellent linguist, and I loved it - but I sabotaged myself by not maintaining fitness and weight standards. - When I write something I'm particularly proud of, I immediately develop writers' block. It's as if I've convinced myself that I cannot possibly be good at something,

Something I have learned this last week is that no matter how well-intentioned our advice may be, it comes out of our own experience. In order to separate the helpful from the less helpful, it is essential that I change my default setting from "I am absolutely and always wrong" to "I might know a few things, and it's okay to make mistakes." I cannot assume that everyone else is always right, because if I tried to follow every piece of advice given me by every single person, I'd go mad.  I have a lot of different challenges. My kids, while being quite amazing individuals, have skill deficits in the emotional arena, as do I. We are growing together, and to be honest, those growing pains are not fun. Then someone kindly tells you that one of your children prayed for her big sister, and you realise that maybe you're not a complete failure after all. You realise that if you were such an incompetent adult, other parents wouldn't trust you with their c

So why, my dear friends, do I persist with this notion that it should be easy? I shall tell you why. Because the internet is full of everyone's success. Smiling photos of happy children, holidays, crafts, cakes, amazing dinners, 5 easy steps to getting your kids to - clean their rooms or eat their vegetables or stop fighting with their siblings. If all of those things are so stinking achievable, then why on earth am I so unbelievably bad at it? Because the reality isn't found on the internet. Reality is all around me. Reality is sometimes delightful of course - but it is also the opposite of delightful. I am always reading something, but recently I read this book, "Idols of a Mother's Heart" by Christina Fox , and she pinpointed so much of why I feel disappointed with motherhood. I have long served at the altar of my own expectations of what parenthood 'should' be, how my home 'should' look, and how my children 'should' behave. Non

This time of year is so full of hope, expectation, and promise. I mean, Advent is too, for a very different reason. January though? Without even considering the whole New Year buzz, January is MY JAM. Organisation out my ears, creative solutions to challenges from the year before, chore charts, furniture rearranging, cleaning and purging of belongings, fantasies about how organised I am going to be this year and how nobody will say to me ALL YEAR "I can't find my shoes/socks/underwear!" and everybody will say "Thank you Mother for this delicious and nutritious meal you have prepared and served with so much love" every night. It's like those chips that tell you "you can't eat just one". Each idea gives birth to a dozen more, and I'm like an out of control bushfire.  This is all before the excitement of back to school shopping. There's the shopping for the kids and their stuff for school, but also the school supplies for home. Which

It's January again - I'm still a bit baffled as to how this happened, even though it does every single year. I started the year with my three girls and my husband in Sydney, where we watched the fireworks on television but heard them in person. Then we set off as a family for a camping trip next to the Snowy River. It was literally the best holiday. No mobile reception or reliable Wi-Fi, and while the hot days were tricky with the kiddos, the evenings brought respite in the form of lazing about in the river. It was magic. It was actually the first family holiday I haven't felt the need to recover from. And now we're back. I'm in the process of getting us back into routines, working backwards to a more sensible bedtime, creating chore charts and schedules.  Basically, I'm in my happy place, especially when you add in household cleaning/organising/DIY projects! I think last year at the end I was just burned out. Turning off for the time I did, it was so helpfu