A time to speak?

I am torn.  I have a friend.  Yes I know.  I have a friend.  How did that happen?  Anyway.  I have a friend (let's call her Sophie) who has a problem.  Sophie confided in me that she is struggling with the attitudes of a good Christian friend of hers.  

He is older than her, and has been a Christian for many many years longer than she.  He is from a Christian family who love him very much.   He has the "Christian pedigree" (went to Sunday school, a Christian school, Youth group, Bible College).  But Sophie has been increasingly worried about some of his attitudes and his actions (mostly online).  

Sophie's friend is not afraid to express divisive opinions (about things upon which Christians often disagree) loudly in the company of non-believers and people who love to hear that the church cannot get it's act together.  He is not afraid to drink rather more than he should (again in the company of non-believers), and is rather less than discreet about some of his attitudes to women (joining inappropriate Facebook groups etc).  He is also not afraid to go one holiday alone with his girlfriend.

Sophie's husband has spoken to him many times in love, raising these and other issues.  But there is a problem there too.  Sophie's husband was brought to Christ by this friend and has not been a believer as long.  Her husband is younger than her friend, and takes a more conservative line on many things.  Sophie is afraid that the voice of her husband is being lost in the loud secular voices of the media and unbelieving friends. She worries that his influence is being lessened because he is telling his friend things he doesn't want to hear about things in his life that need to change, and behaviour that is blatantly ungodly, behaviour which belies his Christian professions of faith.

Sophie asked me what she should do.  Should she keep praying for her friend and the words of her husband and hold her piece about her growing frustration?  Should she raise issues with her friend directly and risk damaging the friendship of both her and her husband?  or should she put the health of his soul above the feelings of her heart and say it anyway?

Changes changes.

It has been a year of great change.  


I spent about an hour and a half last night reading back over the Facebook posts and status updates on my profile since my birthday in 2009.  It was an interesting exercise and one I plan to revisit every so often.  It really showed me a couple of things about my life.  It has most definitely been a year of great change. 


 I went from someone who worked for money (and fulfillment) to someone who stayed home full-time with a small person!  I went from someone who I thought was not that excited about having kids to someone who now has one and can admit publicly that I love motherhood. 


I noticed that I have many very supportive friends.  Some of them I see all the time.  Some of them I haven't seen in person for many years.  Yet all have been giving of themselves and their advice when requested or needed.  I know some people say Facebook has made friendship less meaningful, and I can see why that may be the case, but for me, it has enabled me to reconnect with many friends who no longer live close by.  It has meant that people who (for whatever reason) can't come and visit can still see Bede and his progress (and follow mine). 


I also noticed that (despite my many protestations to the contrary) I was actually very excited to be pregnant and loved most of it.  On the same topic, I saw many many updates (more than I ever thought I could write) extolling the positives of motherhood.  Sure there were also many many negative posts...some days the positives felt very far away.  But over all I think we can say that motherhood has been a positive experience.  


It was interesting to me to realise that Facebook is almost better than a baby book for me in that I update with almost every new skill mastered or cute expression espied.  I have a real baby book.  But I would have to check my Facebook profile to accurately update it!!


So for next year instead of a new baby, we will have a new home, a new Church family, a new geographic and social area to get used to.  Many changes.  Will my Facebook profile adequately reflect the scope and effect of all of them?  Probably not since working in ministry has its own ethical and privacy codes.  But I will certainly try to live as openly in ministry as I try to live in motherhood so that no one can say I am half-hearted in my motherhood or in my ministry or in my marriage.  

The wand chooses the wizard...

It is almost here.  It has almost arrived.  After years of waiting, and counting down, we are about to see yet another Harry Potter Film.   The trailers promise an extravaganza of Biblical proportions.  And so does the book...it would have to given that it was split into two films.

I have just finished re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (for the squillionth time).  I am a huge advocate of reading books more than once.  In my school days I used to be bamboozled because girls who had not even read an English text we were studying would beat me in exams when I had read the book countless times (inconceivable I know...mind you I was sure I was just a failed genius...).  And it is not as though I don't "get it" the first time.  I re-read it for the sheer pleasure of re-visiting familiar and beloved characters, places and situations, and because I almost always discover something new in a book each time I read it.

This time was no exception.  There I was reading HP7 when I discovered something about wandlore I was hitherto unaware of.   It seems that the descriptors of the wand have 2 functions (that I have so far discerned).

1) We find out the eventual height of the owner of the wand.  The length of the wand is directly proportional to their adult height (Hagrid's wand is 16 inches long where most other people's would be between 9 and 13)
2) We also find out about the flexibility of the character (note that Bellatrix has a wand that is rigid, whereas Draco Malfoy's is bendy).  This could indicate the propensity of the character to be swayed from a position they have adopted, or (in the case of Wormtail, to be broken).

I don't think this is the only thing we can learn about the characters from their wand descriptions.  I have not as yet investigated the supposed properties of the kind of wood that makes up the wand.  Mind you it might be interesting to do that since Hagrid's is made from oak which is a long lived, strong and constant wood.

Anyway.  Enough musing on the world of HP.  Soon enough (14 days to be precise).  I will be sitting in a cinema (without Bede...so a babysitter will be required) eagerly anticipating the opening credits of the penultimate installment of the HP saga!!!

BRING IT ON!!!!!

One potato, two potato, three potato, four...

I have decided that I am going to start the mammoth task of packing up the house.  It is probably a good idea to start now since packing with an almost toddler will probably take longer.  I often wonder how people with multiple (and sometimes many multiple) children do it.  How do you cope with more than one child? more than one routine?  more than one set of nappies (if they are close together in age)...


I have a strange family. We have very large age-gaps between siblings.  Ten years between my sister and me, and then 6 years between me and my next sister.  Then there was an aberration; an anomaly to the pattern: my brother arrives after a mere 13 months.  I remember many years of being an only child.  Then suddenly I had two siblings in quick succession.  


My question is: what is a fair age-gap between children?  I know many people who have 2 years and under between children, but not many who have 3 years or more.  Is there really such a huge advantage to being stressed out of your brain for a few years to have kids close together?  Do the benefits really outweigh the costs? the years of sleeplessness, nappies, toddlers, breastfeeding, the HSCs, driving lessons etc???  


I think I would hate having kids so close together...until I remember how close my siblings are.  They have the same friends and go to the same parties quite often.  They shared a room until they were 15 and 14.  


Even now they share a language I cannot penetrate through the generation gap.  And it is a generation.  I am married with a baby, and they are still at uni.  Were Fiona still with us, she would be almost 40.  She may be married.  She would most likely not have kids (due to chemo and radiotherapy as a child), but she would have her own generational markers and language.


I suppose looking at my own sibling age-gaps, and knowing that Luke is an only child, I keep coming back to the question of what works?  I know that a 13 month age gap nearly killed mum.  I also know that I never really quite got over the arrival of my sister (less so my brother), and that most of my childhood was spent relating to adults or older cousins, making it harder for me to relate to kids my own age.  Bede won't have quite that problem since he will be at Sunday School from a very young age with kids his own age all the time.  


But what would you do?  would you have yours close together? or have a larger gap? and if you already have your kids, would you do it the same way again? or would you have them closer together/further apart and why??

Moving on up...Pt II

And so we wait.  The Project goes in next week and it is well on the way to completion (97% done...); then 2 exams, then Luke's life at College and our life in community really begins to wind down.  


Other couples/families who are also finishing are starting to book their movers, and get packing boxes so they can begin the arduous yet now familiar task of de-cluttering and packing up the flat/home.


And we still wait.  I could start packing boxes and getting Luke to carry them down to our garage.  It will make my life easier in the long run if I do.  I know it will.  


But I am reluctant.  I feel like if I start packing, I move out of my accustomed home in Egypt where College never ends and community (and friendships) lasts for ever, and into the more harsh and scary world of reality where we have only about 6 weeks until we have to be out of our College accommodation.


I still wait.  I still want to know where we are moving too before I pack.  It's silly.  It's procrastination gone mad.  I don't even like Egypt all that much.  The real world has its upsides.  


But it also has one big downside that I am currently the most afraid of: Isolation and Loneliness.  It's funny because I don't take as much advantage of community living as I should.  I don't go to coffee at someone's house every day and I don't leave Bede with someone else when things get hard.  But I could.  And that is the hard thing.  


Knowing that soon, I won't be able to just drop in on friends and neighbours at Moorewest; knowing that my closest friend could live ages away.  And knowing that if Bede is having a meltdown-y kind of day that it really is all down to me- no Moorewest friend will walk in and say "Let me take him while you go for a coffee".  I haven't really let them.  But they could.  And it's that eventuality that I am really dreading.

Pragmatic about friendships? Not me!!

I am not a fan of change.  I like stability, and lots of it.  I lived in the same house for 21 years, and went to the same school for 13 years.  So for me, the idea of moving house and church frequently is not a friendly thought.


One of the problems I have with moving churches in particular is the question of moving on from friendships.  I don't do it.  For me, if you are my friend, you stay my friend irrespective of how often we talk on the phone (or chat on facebook), or how often we see each other.  I have friends that I would consider very good friends who I haven't seen or spoken to for a long long time.  


This hurts me.  I often wonder if I need to re-think the way I 'do' friendships.  Maybe I need to be like a person I know who is very 'pragmatic' about friendships when she moves church; essentially she says goodbye to people, and cuts them off from her 'friend list', expecting to take up the friendship again in heaven.  


I find that idea hard to stomach.  Especially since I considered her to be my friend after we had moved churches.  Then I heard her ideas about friendship.  


And I stopped.  


And I thought: was I ever her friend?  


Was I wrong to assume that we could stay friends after moving on to new churches?  Am I wrong to assume that when we move again (at the end of the year) that my friends from Terrey Hills will remain my friends after we're gone?  I hope not.  Because I hold friendship to be deeper and more important that that.  I hold friendship to be something that lasts and is there even without constant contact.  Even when life situations change (getting married/having kids) in my mind friendships continue on.  


So if I haven't phoned you in a while, or you're not on facebook, or we haven't seen each other in person lately (or even for a long time), please don't assume I don't care about you as much as I did when we saw each other often.  Please don't assume I have moved on from the friendship.  Please don't assume I don't still pray for you.  


Because I do care about you.  


I have not moved on.  


I do still pray for you.  


And chances are, I would LOVE to catch up with you in person.  Why don't we make a date?  

Moving on up...?

We are in a very weird place at the moment.  Luke has just handed in his last big essay for College apart from the Project.  He has just 2 exams to sit this semester.  This means that we have nearly finished four years at Moore College.  It means that in the not too distant future, we will be unleashed on a (yet to be determined) parish.

This is a double-edged sword.  I have loved being a "College wife".  Moorewomen, and Biblestudy and living in community have been wonderful fulfilling things.  The churches we have been serving have welcomed us as  members of their spiritual family.

But the end of College is bittersweet for me.  I always intended to study myself, but God had other plans for me.   I will miss living in community, and sharing my life with my Biblestudy ladies from week to week.  In some cases we have lived close to each other and shared a Biblestudy for the whole of College.

I will not miss living in a tiny flat though.  I will not miss living more than half an hour from church (which has meant my involvment can only be so much...).  A bigger place to live close to church is starting to look really good. 

But is it worth the moving?  the loss of College community?  What other (positive) things do I have to look forward to in parish life?  I need some encouragement to want to move on...

Is it just me?

...or have you also noticed the positive rash of people who are pregnant at the moment?  I notice it because I live in community and a fair few members of the community are currently pregnant, or have just recently (in the last fortnight) had babies.


This used to drive me nuts.  In my pre-pregnancy days, in my pre not-trying days, I used to feel like I was surrounded by pregnant women.  Or I was surrounded by women who had recently been pregnant, or women who had young kids.  It was crazy. 


Every week I had to run the gauntlet at Moorewomen... "do you have kids?"..."No it's just us"..."any on the way?"..."not at the moment"...


And then if it wasn't that conversation, it was the listening to others talk about their pregnancies; how sick they were (or weren't)...what they craved (or didn't crave)...; their labour/birthing stories...  I was going insane!!!


Now don't get me wrong.  I was happily not pregnant.  I was working, and loving it (for the most part).  


But I know many many women at College (now and in the recent past) who have struggled and are currently struggling with infertility (either explained or unexplained).  I know women for whom Moorewomen was a weekly torture session to which they subjected themselves because they knew it would be helpful in their pastoral careers.  I know many more women who avoid Moorewomen even though they are aware of how helpful it will be in the future, simply because the pain now is too great.  It hurts too much to have people assume you have kids; to see women week after week fall pregnant (apparently) easily, with their 2nd (3rd, 4th...) child while you still struggle through falling pregnant with your first.  I know women who keep their emotional rollercoaster battles with IVF and other fertility assistance treatments a secret.


I have fought hard to try and keep a level playing field (so to speak) at Moorewomen, so that not every topic is related to having kids, so that people without kids (of whom I was one for my first 3 years of College) could feel free to come and learn and grow without feeling like they were missing out (even though they feel like that anyway).  


We at College and in parish ministry need to be more aware of the prevalence of fertility problems.  We need to think through how we talk to couples who do not have kids; perhaps being careful of unspoken assumptions about whether or not they will have kids.  We also need to think through how to pastorally care for those who struggle with infertility in the long term- many couples try for years to fall pregnant before going to assisted fertility treatments, and many more do not believe in those treatments, and suffer in silence.  We need to think through how we place people in Biblestudy groups, how we arrange our creche rosters...etc


In many ways I was lucky.  I was a strong personality who could deal with the baby talk week in, week out.  I was happy in my work.  I was happily not pregnant.  And when we were " not not trying" to fall pregnant, I was ok each month when things didn't happen.  People who knew me at those times will know that I would assert that I didn't really want kids all that much anyway.  


I lied.


I did want kids.  I wanted them so much that I was afraid of having them.  I wanted the security of knowing ahead of time if they would be healthy, and that my pregnancies would go well. If I asserted I didn't want them that much anyway, then if I didn't fall pregnant, it wouldn't matter.  But each month it did matter.  Six months of not not trying and I still wasn't pregnant.  On it went.  More people I knew were falling pregnant...but not me.  And I was still ok.  Had I not fallen pregnant when I did, I may not have been ok for that long really.  But luckily for us, I fell pregnant. 


And then we had to watch the faces of friends (who we knew had been trying much longer than us) fall.  And then the smiles masked the pain.  Another friend pregnant.  Not me again this month.  The hearty congratulations, masking the "why?".  Some of those friends are still trying over a year later.  


We pray every night that they will fall pregnant.  Of course prayer should be our first port of call when we seek to pastorally care for those who struggle to conceive.


What are some other practical ways we can care for those who struggle with infertility?

The obsessions of motherhood...

I have an obsessive personality as anyone who knows me could attest to.  I will read and re-read fantasy series' ad nauseam ad infinitum (Harry Potter anyone?).  If I find an author I like, I will read everything they wrote.  Not just once.  Many many many times.

This facet of my character has got me into trouble more than once.  I nearly drove a (slightly hormonal pregnant) friend nuts when I read everything I could find on pregnancy in an effort to support her through a much desired (and long awaited) pregnancy.  I spent nearly a year immersed in the mirky world of Harry Potter fanfiction (which I will candidly admit I still miss) becoming a shell of my true self.

With this in mind, I assert that all mothers have a 'parental obsession'.  For some, it may be what their child eats (only organic perhaps); for others it may be whether their little precious bundle is sickening for something ("I'm sure she's feeling a bit hot..."); for still others it may be the clothes or accessories in the nursery (only the Boori cot and Bugaboo pram?).

For me it is sleeping.  But not just any sleeping: for me it is day sleeping.  Bede has always been a good night sleeper, but from a ridiculously early age his day sleeps were variable.  It didn't take long for the quality of my day to be dictated by how long and how well he slept and whether (in the early days) he would re-settle after only one sleep cycle.  And it took very little for a good day to be turned into a bad day by one missed or unsettled nap (today was unfortunately one of those days).

I read every book I could find on baby sleeping and would flip straight to the cat-nap section desperate for a fail-safe way to make get him to sleep for longer consistently. I even keep a spreadsheet detailing every minute he sleeps day and night (yes I am that pathetic).  Needless to say my efforts were in vain.

As I have mentioned before on this blog (and in person if you know me), Bede is a comparatively easy baby and is a joy to know and love.  I am thankful every day for him.  And yet too often I find myself counting the minutes until he is supposed to go to bed next...selfishly wasting the time I should be playing with him, enjoying him.

I hate feeling like this.  Yet I know that one day soon he won't need days sleeps...and then...then another parental obsession will rear it's ugly head...who knows what it may be?  Tantrums? Discipline? Table manners?  the potential list is endless!!

So what is the Godly way to deal with my parental obsessions?  Prayer would be the place to start.   A good mummy network is essential, and has been endlessly helpful (thanks to my Mummy's Group ladies and to my Biblestudy ladies, not to mention the lovely Moorewomen).  I also think accountability is key.  Someone to talk to who is good at keeping things in perspective for me, maybe (in fact preferably) someone who has a much more demanding and high maintenance baby.

So I'll throw it out to the ether:  what is your parental obsession? how do you keep your perspective in a godly way?

Emotional Barometer Pt II

I have an immaculate house.  Each room is as tidy as it can be given the confined space.  I feel good.  Almost feel like taking photos...


Another facet to my emotional barometer is the maintenance of the clean state.  The real test is how long it stays clean.  If the house stays clean my level of perceived control goes up.  But if we let is slide straight away it is a sign that my veneer of control is too thin.

Who is your Mrs Landingham?

I've been watching the West Wing again lately.  Luke and I love it, and Bede loves it (mostly for the music I think).  We're just up to the end of Season 2, which focuses on Mrs Landingham, one of the series' best characters!!

I was thinking though.  It seems like she is a mother substitute for Jed.  You know the type.  The older female figure who offers advice (solicited or not) and kicks you in the butt when you need it.  I'm not sure if I have one.

Actually that's not true.  I do have one.  But she's not that much older than me and she's my best friend.  She has certainly kicked me in the butt when I've needed it.  And she is great at offering advice!!

Who is your Mrs Landingham?

What's your Emotional Barometer?

It is funny how you can tell when someone is not coping too well.  Some people retreat into a room and play guitar.  Some people drink a bit too much.  Some people go out a lot.  Some people clean.


I am the opposite.  When I am not coping too well, my house gets messy.  Very messy.  But my true Emotional Barometer is the state of my kitchen.  


If the washing up is piling up on the bench top, you know I am having a rough time.  When it is piling up on the oven as well as the bench top...well let's just say I'm headed for a melt down.  


Sometimes it gets so bad I will go out for the day (no matter what it does to Bede's sleeps) just to avoid looking at the state of my kitchen.


This is all very ironic given that I do the mouse's share of the cooking in our house.  


Luke has always done the bulk of our cooking.  


He likes it.  


I like it. 


Long may it continue.


I have always done the bulk of the cleaning.  I am not good at it.  My house would never win an award for tidiness and my mother would (and sometimes does) flinch at the state of the bathroom.  


But when I am coping, my kitchen is pretty clean.  Immaculate even.  It's when I'm feeling confident and in control.  But it can go from clean and easy maintenance to messy and hard to fix in the space of 24 short hours.  I never realised I was so emotionally mercurial!!


So when you come to my house and I tell you "Please ignore the mess"...chances are I would really appreciate a hand.  I would deny it!  Vocally.  But please ignore my protests and please wash up for me!!! 


It is an easy way to help me get back under control.

The smiley face to thank God for...

I hate that the goodness or otherwise of my day has become all about how well Bede has slept that day.  It has been that way for way too long and I need to get over it.  It is hard but I really really need to get over it. 


What I need should be doing is thanking God for a happy, healthy boy who is growing well and who 95 % of the time is an absolute joy!  I should be spending more time writing posts like "Giggles" a few days ago.  


I should be spending more time thinking of the new skills he's learnt this week like:
     -  clapping spontaneously
     -  reaching down to pick something up without falling over (from a standing position whilst holding on to something)
     -  moving from crawling position to sitting position 




He is a JOY so often, with his smiley face and his snuggling in for a cuddle.


As a posted on facebook a few weeks ago, it is days like this one (and a few others lately) that remind me how easy (comparatively) we have it with Bede.  He has always slept well at night, eaten well (taking to breastfeeding like a duck to water), reached milestones early, and been good as gold for any and all babysitters.  I know many people who have it a lot harder than I do, which is why I shouldn't whinge.  


So I need to pray for thankfulness for my smiley little boy, and patience to keep smiling when he has a (rare) bad day.

That time of year again...

It's that time of year again.  The time of year when tens of thousands of Year 12 students finish the humdrum world of classes, and slide sloshily into the murkier world of stu-vac before the HSC.  


It was not a sloshy slide for me.  I walked with my head held high (and dry) through many an 18th Birthday party, through the end-of school celebrations and into uni keen to learn.  This is not the experience of most young school leavers.  Most will drink their way through ridiculous amounts of money and self-respect between now and uni, and often continuing into the uni years.


I drink.  Sure.  About one drink a month.  But many of these kids will come home from  Schoolies with damaged livers.  And I think to myself: WHY??


Surely there is more to having fun at a party or at uni, or just to celebrate than to pour huge amounts of (essentially) poison down one's throat.  Surely having fun does not include throwing up in the bushes, and spending the next day making people whisper and tip toe past your door.


The drinking culture in Australia is much discussed on morning tv, evening tv and in churches.  It is also much subtly defended on morning tv, and evening tv.  The presenters will sit there and bemoan the binge drinking that occurs on a mass scale every weekend, conveniently forgetting their own heavy drinking days.  In the evening the presenters often laugh shamefacedly as they try to speak against the drinking culture, and try and laugh off their own drunken exploits.


Until recently in Europe alcohol was the only safe liquid to drink when most waterways were full of material and human waste.  The current guidelines for pregnant women not to drink any alcohol (apart from being largely ignored) would have spelled a quick death from dehydration in centuries passed.  


Now we know better.  We know the effects on the body of prolonged moderate use of alcohol.  We know about the effects on the developing baby.  We know about the effect on families and the raised levels of violence.  And yet as a society we continue to drink to excess regularly.  


How can we change this culture??  The current advertisements suggesting you "delay their first drink" will be largely useless given that for the target audience, the "parents", often they spent their youth sozzled and happy about it.  For too many generations, getting drunk has become a positive statement about adulthood, about manhood, about fun.


Again I ask: How do we as Christians change the culture?  


Well we know that prohibition doesn't work.  The USA tried that.  EPIC FAIL.  The reasons for the Prohibition Act were great reasons.  But the culture was too entrenched even then.  Now?


Biblically we know that Jesus was not averse to a tipple himself.  He turned water into wine at a wedding for crying out loud.  But at the same time, the Apostle Paul exhorts women 'not to be addicted to much wine'.  So moderation is the order of the day.  But do we know what moderation is anymore? Do we really know what moderation is?  In a culture where people who drink to excess think they drink moderately...a culture change is definitely necessary.  But still difficult.  


Some Christians think we shouldn't drink at all.  I am tempted to agree, but I know I don't really.  That attitude may well be the product of too many years of indoctrination into the idea that alcohol "isn't really that bad", that everything in moderation is ok.   Maybe we shouldn't drink.  Maybe it would really take being completely different from the prevailing culture to make a difference.  


I don't know.  What do you think?

Giggles...

I am a stickler for appearing dignified in all circumstances.  


I am one of those people who will not allow myself to be pulled out of the audience at dancing classes, won't sing at karaoke (even though I love singing), won't do gym classes all because I am so paranoid about appearing undignified.


Not so when it comes to making Bede laugh!  I still remember the first time he did it!! and for the longest time we had to work really really hard to get him to laugh...we practically had to turn ourselves inside out and turn handsprings at the same time for a tiny chuckle...


Not so anymore!! Now we have a boy who will laugh quite readily when tickled, who will chuckle at his reflection in the mirror or at new sounds.  But the crowning glory, the most fun part of my day is putting him to bed at night...not because I'm tired and can't wait to get a break...(well yes that too)...but because he has in the last few days discovered how to play peek-a-boo!!  He'll pull his blanket up over his face, then down again, when we say "Boo!!"...cue the howls of laughter from the boy!!


What a joy to see him discovering such an easy yet sophisticated game!!

Bede playing Boo with bear!

Bede at bedtime with Merlin...

Just a mum...Part II

Often I am asked when I will be going back to work.  If I had a dollar for every time the question is asked, I would be very very rich.  It is an interesting assumption isn't it? Of course I'll be going back to work right?  I mean I'm a modern woman with a modern (and very expensive) education.

My school life was filled with the explicit indoctrination into modern ideas about women in the workforce: women can and should have both a career (a successful one of course), and a family at the same time.  I never really thought twice about the question of going back to work.  Not until Bede arrived.

Now when I think about going back to work, I am uncertain.  I alternate between wanting to go back to teaching; to the imparting of knowledge to the young; and wanting to stay with Bede, seeing all his firsts.  I have already missed a couple recently.  I missed the first time he pulled up to stand when he was at home with Poppy while Luke and I went to lunch...and then I missed the first time he pulled himself up in his cot, again while out with Luke.

Going back to work has other problems.  We will be moving at the end of the year to an as yet unknown location (we'll know where as soon as Luke gets a job for next year), into an as yet unknown church family.  It would not have been worth going back to work this year since I would have to quit at the end of the year anyway.  And next year, our first year in parish ministry, I want to spend time making connections, finding my feet in our new spiritual home.  I don't want to confuse the issue (or Bede) by adding a new job to the list of new things (new home, new church) we'll have to get used to.

We also kind of like the idea of 3 year age gaps, so in some ways it may not be worth going back to work between children.  Mind you I may change my mind on that one.

So it is a loaded question for me when people ask when I'm going back to work.  Firstly it assumes that I will.  I may not.  Secondly it assumes that work outside the home is a more important, more valid occupation than looking after the primary needs of Bede and home.  For the time being, caring for Bede's physical, spiritual and emotional welfare is my primary ministry which God has graciously blessed me with.  Any job I go back to will always be secondary to the cares of the family.

In a new church we will be wanting to extend hospitality often and to many people.  If I am working I will be less able to extend that hospitality and to run an efficient household (something I already struggle to achieve).  If I try to add paid work to my home responsibilities, Luke's life is made more complicated and stressful, which is not something he needs in a new job.

So as you can see asking me when I'll be going back to work is a very loaded question.  And for someone like me who was less-than -enthusiastic about leaving the work force, it can be a hurtful question because it reminds me of the sacrifices I make every day, and how selfish it is to even consider them sacrifices.

Stay at home...

"So what do you do?"


"I'm just a mum..."


It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I was somewhat reluctant to give up teaching.  I was always worried that being at home all the time with a baby would mean that my brain would turn to mush through lack of adult conversation.  


It was of course my pride talking when I used to say such things.  I have too much pride.  It often gets in the way of my emotional and spiritual growth.  But one thing I have learned: pride is not a godly response to blessings from God.  I have been blessed with intellect and I am overly touchy about any potential slurs against it. So for me the idea that my brain might turn to mush whilst taking on the (supposedly) thankless tasks of parenting was terrifying.  It meant shelving ideas of further study whilst teaching.  It meant being "chained to the home" or so I thought.


What has been the reality?


The reality has been a double edged sword.  In some ways it is much easier than I expected it to be.  Bede has been a (relatively) easy baby to live with (no matter how much I may whinge on facebook).  He has always been a good eater, on the whole a good sleeper (with some exceptions to be addressed in future posts), and a very smiley happy little boy. My brain hasn't turned to mush as I feared it would.  I have been able to get to at least one Biblestudy group a week, to Moorewomen each week, to Mother's group most weeks, and to visit and support a very good friend and fellow maternal traveller more weeks than not. I have enjoyed not marking exams or writing reports, or dealing with recalcitrant students.


On the other hand, I have often struggled with my own expectations of myself.  I often have to revise what I can actually achieve with a baby in tow, how many things I can actually get to each week around sleeps and feeds.  On occasion I have had to clear the decks for the sake of a few days of good sleeps (for Bede) whilst champing at the bit to get out the door.  I can be very ungracious about putting aside my need for human contact for the sake of Bede's need for stability and routine.  


Don't get me wrong.  I love routine!! I made a big effort to get Bede into a routine rather than feeding on demand.  I'm a teacher so I love control and predictability. In a sense, having a baby has been the hardest thing I've ever done simply because it means surrendering my need to control and regulate.  It has meant slightly freaking out when Bede doesn't do what the books say he should and when (for the record he generally does things ahead of time...both good and bad). 


Anyway.  The upshot is that yes I was reluctant to give up my working life.  And yes I thought parenting would be one long round of hell and isolation.  Was I correct?  No I wasn't.  I was wrong.  


There.  I've said it.  I love being a mum.  I love looking after Bede each day.  


But why is it so hard to admit that?  


Pride.  One of my most glaring defects and sinful attitudes.    I should be able to shout my joy in Bede from the rooftops.  But because of my pride, I whisper it shamefacedly, embarrassed by my own backflips...

Semi-reluctant...

I thought it would be a good idea to address the question of my occupation early-on in this blog. 


I always wanted to be a teacher.  I have been a teacher since before I can remember.  


It was only the subject that was the question; I never considered anything other than secondary school teaching and as I grew older and began to understand myself and my interests, my passions for literature and for history (and everything involved in both) it became clear to me what I needed to study at uni.  


I never had the years of soul searching that so many kids have when the UAC books come out each year.  I knew what degree and what uni I would apply for.  I only put in one choice because I was that certain of my desires.  


I got in to my choice of uni and degree, I worked hard, I got honours in both English and History because I could never choose one over the other.  I did a Dip Ed at a less-preferred uni, did my prac at a great school (James Ruse...let the reader understand) and graduated as the one thing I ever wanted to be: a Teacher (note the capital).


For various reasons I chose not to apply to state schools (a post for another time), and I spent almost a year and a half looking for a full-time job.  


But teaching was not what I always thought it would be.   I struggled with class control, kids didn't listen or care...but I thought my enthusiasm would cut through all that.  Not so.  I left a few schools because I couldn't cope.  And what of my lifetime of dreaming of finding one school I could work at 'til I retired? getting further and further into the distance...


Then last year, I taught at a school which was ideologically and theologically opposite to almost everything I believe in.  And do you know what?  I loved it! The kids were great!! they wanted to learn, and on the whole they listened.  It was a joy to teach there.  It was somewhere I could have stayed for a while...not quite a lifetime of teaching, but a while.  


In March and April I was toying with the idea of taking this year off to study at Moore College  with Luke.  I was within a few weeks of applying.  Then God showed that He had other ideas for me this year, and for the years to come.  


The lofty years of dreaming of a career in teaching, retiring  after a long and fulfilling career...diminishing...fading...into the reality of becoming a mum.  


"SO what do you do?"..."I'm just a mum"... 


... to be continued.

Eat, Pray, Love...Yourself...

I went with some lovely Moorewest ladies to see 'Eat Pray Love' tonight.  It is not really my kind of movie...I'm not really the chick-flick type...I went more for the company than the film...


Having said that it was an enjoyable experience.  The movie wasn't brilliant, but it was good for what it was.  It was well shot, using some amazing scenery from Italy and Bali.  The music was generally well chosen, and the acting wasn't half bad.  


I was very interested in the kind of ideas about life and self that were portrayed in the film.  The protagonist Liz is on one of those 'quests' to 'find herself' that so many modern women seem to need to go on.  This seems to be a way of avoiding working through her real issues and spending a very self-indulgent year travelling, eating good food, meeting great people, and basically getting used to being alone after many years in and out of relationships.  


Initially Liz seems to be trying to challenge the idea that you need a man to be fulfilled, and that is great!! Her desperate prayer to God was amusing yet saddening to a Christian viewer.  She kind of says "nice to finally meet you"...I found that ironic because she was in no way engaging with God on a meaningful level (from a Christian perspective).  Her request for a sign was one of those things we all do when we have no idea what to do next, and predictably failed.   


To get to the point, the movie seemed to be all about finding an inner balance or centre.  This could be achieved chiefly through meditation, engaging with gurus (or medicine men), getting advice from all your friends while giving nothing back to the relationship, and generally avoiding taking responsibility for your decisions.  There is little or no mention of God except to say that "God is in you...as you" and another few phrases which had very little to do with God.  Essentially it was saying that you find balance by looking inward not upward.  You find your centre by seeking self, not truly seeking God.  


And in the end the cliche is restored...balance is restored...she flees a relationship to find herself, and she finds herself in a relationship, but only after she becomes able to love herself. 


A question to ponder...how do we use this film (or book if you read the book) as an entry point to talking about God, and through that, Jesus?  


I think it's about looking at the world views, but also, starting with the most glaring thing: relationships are broken...how do we fix them?!

teething troubles...

the what to say question...


I could talk about how excited I am about the fact that it is only 68 days until the next Harry movie opens...


I could talk about the 20 or so books I am currently reading...


I could talk about the tedious process of job hunting after College...


I could talk about the highs and lows of being a semi-reluctant stay-at-home Mum...


I could talk about how much I miss the murky world of Fan Fiction and my secret desire to write one...


I could talk about my own inefficiency as at sharing the gospel with my friends and family...


I could talk about these things...and I probably will get around to them all eventually.




What do you want to hear about?