More thoughts about Christmas

'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas' so the song says. And suddenly it's December and it's busy with planning for family events, catching up with friends for lunch, lots of singing of Christmas songs and of course the shops are full of it. My last blog got some reactions suggesting that there are some great things about these aspects of Christmas and I'd have to agree, while recognising that for some it's a hard time - the first Christmas without a loved one, the underlining of family dysfunction, the lack of resources to do what they'd like to, loneliness, poverty, homelessness. It's not all Father Christmas and pudding.

During this Advent (the period of waiting, waiting, waiting yet again for the wonder of Christmas) I have made time to stop amongst all the things to be done and  have been reading a daily thought from a very different Advent calendar. Each day's simple reflection on a Bible verse with a personal story has set me thinking.
One  page I read recently talked about Mary receiving the news that she would be the mother of that special baby. I have always marvelled at her response to such an outrageous event. Calm but active acceptance of her role even though it must have been puzzling and somewhat alarming. The writer (Dale Clem) suggested that we are all called to carry the grace of God within us and to give birth to the love of God in the world today. Phew! That's something to think about!

He suggests that 'every positive thought, every prayer, every time we treat another with respect, every time we feed the hungry and every act of loving-kindness giving birth to Jesus in the world.'  Just as Mary was enabled to carry the love of God within her we too may be enabled to carry the love of God within us so that we can love others and be the answer to their prayers.

How amazing Christmas could be if all those other wonderful moments (and all those experiences of pain) could be met with the love of God that is the very heart of Christmas.

Christ in Christmas

[Rant alert: doing a bit of a rave. Not a cute reminiscence.]

The Facebook post was a graphic suggesting 'Put Christ in Christmas' or some such with a picture of Father Christmas. I probably offended a few FB friends by suggesting I thought this this was a joke, someone being funny with the idea that Christ in Christmas was aptly illustrated by the jolly gentleman in red.
So it set me pondering. Is there any Christmas at all without Christ. 'Jesus is the reason for the season' and all that stuff.
Some years back there was a hue and cry because there was no Nativity scene in the John Martin's Christmas Pageant. (I used to think that one was THE Pageant till I moved to the country and discovered there were lots of other Christmas pageants. Same goes for THE Show. But I digress.)  I thought it was fine to leave the Christmas Pageant to Father Christmas and snow people and clowns and stuff without tacking on the Nativity scene. Because that's how it seems. Let's just put Christ in Christmas, added to all the other stuff.  Sort of a bob each way.
Likewise there is a song we sometimes sing in church that has the line (addressed to the  Holy One) "I'm so glad you're in my life." It always makes me think of faith in Christ as just one part of life along with family and work and hobbies and sport. Whereas Christ IS my life, the source of all I am and ever hope to be. I sort of mutter that song and sing "I'm so glad your ARE my life."
So thinking about Christmas? What's it all about? Something to be endured or dreaded as seems to be the case for so many?Something for the children, as some will assert "Christmas is for the kids really" or something that should have Christ in it - along with all the other stuff?

Another song reminds me

        Christmas isn’t Christmas
        Till it happens in your heart.
        Somewhere deep inside you
        Is where Christmas really starts.
        So give your heart to Jesus,
        You’ll discover when you do
        That it’s Christmas,   
        Really Christmas for you.

Christ in Christmas? Christ at the very centre of life all year round?
May you be blessed this Christmas with the very presence of the one who came to be with us once and for ever....

PS Something to ponder

Beetroot comes in *cans doesn't it?

When I was a child Friday afternoon meant two things for Mum. She would get the bones and split peas bubbling in the pot ready for the weekend soup. Every weekend there was soup. And she would cook the beetroot. There was an old pitted saucepan just for the task - coloured from many years of use. Sometimes Dad grew the beetroot and other times it came from the greengrocer  or the market. It would boil away with a slightly earthy smell and when it had cooled the fun began.
Now I admit I am somewhat squeamish about things like mud pies and play dough and generally getting my hands dirty but I loved dealing with the beetroot. First the top and tail were cut off and discarded. Then if the cooking was just right the skins would slide off. Sometimes this would involve a beetroot popping out of its skin and onto the floor - a bit like whole beets from the salad bar at the pub.
Then there would be slicing and packing away ready to be used for Sunday lunch. When we ate we wore our pinnies over our Sunday dresses so we would still be neat and tidy to go to Sunday school int he afternoon. No beetroot stains, please.
I loved the taste of warm fresh beetroot even if it was a bit stringy sometimes as the season ended. For some years when we lived in Laura we grew our own beetroot and I preserved it in jars where it sat on the shell along with the apricots and peaches looking gorgeous.
Over the last few years there has been a return to being able to buy fresh beetroot and it appears grated in salad or made into dip with horseradish.
This morning our neighbour gave us some beetroot from his garden. I thought of my Mum a s I got out an old pot and began the process. I will be thinking of her for some time as my hands are now stained with  the colour of the juice. Yes beetroot comes in cans, but oh, the memories.....

* Actually beetroot used to come in tins, not cans.

The Ripple Effect

I went swimming today. No big deal. Lake Bonney looked amazing after some tempestuous weather with many windy days and a terrific storm last week. Would the hail stones act like ice cubes and cool the water down? I waited for a few days before putting my toe in the water - literally.

Hail in our garden 11.11.16

As I stood in awe watching the calm water and the reflections and to be honest wondering if it wasn't too cold, there was suddenly a wash of water across the lake. Was there a monster? Of course not. There must be a boat out there somewhere. I couldn't see it but later as I swam, several times the waves came rippling along. Not huge but noticeable. The effect was there.

I thought about that. (Swimming often puts me into a meditative state.) Maybe it's true what the song says about peace beginning with me. 'Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.' Maybe we can make a difference in our world, one smile at. Maybe we can make ripples just like that boat. Maybe it won't make a huge difference but together it could make all the difference in the world. If we smile at a stranger, forgive an annoying habit, leave the dollar in the Aldi trolley...

Belonging

The dream of Sing Australia founder, Colin Slater, was to 'connect Australians in singing'. I have been singing with the local Riverland group since its inception 5 years ago and love the fun we have singing a wide range of songs and having lots of fun. All are welcome whether they think they can sing or not. We don't scrub up too badly either and have a regular round of gigs as well as featuring at Australia Day and Anzac events, Carols and the opening of the Rose Festival to name a few.

There are Sing Australia groups throughout Australia and so on a recent trip to Darwin I decided to check out the group there. I found the leader details on the website and rang to make sure all was as listed. They meet on Thursday nights (same night as the Riverland group) and it was going to work for us to attend. We didn't have a car so looked up the wonderful Darwin bus service and caught a bus which took us 35 minutes to get from the CBD to Nightcliff. Using the good old Google Maps we worked out where to get off and then walked to the school. Someone else arriving looked just like a Sing Australia person so we tailed her to the music room. There we were greeted like old friends.

The repertoire is a common one ie  we all sing from the same books so I was happy to slot into my usual place with the altos and sing along. There was even one song we have sung a lot which wasn't so familiar to them and they were happy for me to conduct. What fun!
But although we were part of the same organisation with the same way of running the group and common songs, there were differences. We have supper at the end; they have it in the middle. Our weekly fees are lower. We have more men (not  many more but...) They sang Blue Moon slower than us and didn't do the entry we do for Chariots. No big deal  but different all the same.

At the end of the evening we were contemplating waiting for the bus and getting back by about 10.20. Freda (the leader) wouldn't hear of it and generously drove us in to town even though her place was well and truly in the other direcion. We were able to  hear more about her life and her love of singing.

On the Sunday we sought out the local Uniting Church. We'd been there before and happily wandered in to be greeted warmly by some who immediately made the connection with people from Barmera who had lived amongst them (and coincidentally whose house we had bought). I figured it was a bit like Sing Australia. Connected by a common love, singing from the same song sheet (and reading the same text). And of course there were differences. They spoke the prayers for others from amongst the people, some of the songs were more familiar than others and so it went.
I believe the church is (or should be) more than just a club or community organisation but in both cases I was grateful for the sense of belonging, of being amongst friends. Yes, Colin, of being connected. Yes, Jesus, being part of your family.

My Mother's coat

It was 34 degrees, sunny and muggy when we left Darwin. I was glad to finish our time away and say goodbye to the sticky heat. But I had not expected to be greeted by rain and 10 degrees on our arrival back in Adelaide.

When we left Barmera a week earlier it was a welcome spring day with sunshine and low twenties temperature, so the clothes I wore then were waiting for me in our unit and we needed to stay overnight before travelling home.
What do do? The obvious answer would be to head tot he shops and buy something new. But I have heaps of suitable things - just not where I was. But there are many garments hanging in the wardrobe. Some are archival and include the dress I wore for my 21st, a coat I had in my youth and a denim jacket my daughter loved as a teenager. All have a story to tell - not least of all of my nostalgia and reluctance to part  with them.
When my Mother died two years ago it fell to me to clear out her room at the aged care facility and so I removed her clothes. Although there had been a cull previously there were still plenty. Some I dispatched to the op shops and others I couldn't quite part with and so I hung them in my wardrobe. There must be something warm there; my mother had great taste. The only problem was that she had been a red head and her colouring and mind only overlap to some degree. There  were about six jackets to choose from - in shades of beige and fawn and brown and green. But then I found the bluish sage one, a long-line lined raincoat sort of thing and it didn't look too bad. And it was warm against the chill wind and rain of that day and the next.

We had arrived home and the next day I needed to head out. Although I had all my usual clothes to choose from I reached for my Mum's coat. How lovely to be wrapped in a sense of her continuing presence. There were two clean tissues in the pocket and I imagined her touch upon them. So snug and warm and loved.
My Dad died 34 years before Mum did and yet all those years she kept one of his jumpers - a lovely soft green one that reminded her of him and kept his presence real. When the funeral people asked me to bring in clothes for her body to be dressed in I took a favourite dress and on impulse Dad's jumper. when I went for the viewing (compulsory by law and the only viewing as Mum didn't want her coffin to be public) there was her body lying with arms folded across the jumper my Dad had worn all those years before. No wonder I  felt comforted by my mother's coat.

Holiday Blog: More people

So we set out to walk to the Chinese museum and temple since history and the stories of people are what interest me, although we did go to Crocosaurus Cove yesterday and I surprised myself by finding it interesting and informative and I nearly touched a snake but declined to hold one. Not the baby croc nor any other reptiles.
The Chinese museum was fascinating. I didn't know that there were way more Chinese people than European settlers in Darwin in the 1890s. Thier contribution to the settlement and culture of Darwin has been amazing. Sadly it's no surprise that then (and now) there has been discrimination. Some second and third generation Australian born people of Chinese background, when asked where they come from say 'Darwin' but inevitably get the 'But where did you really come from?' response.
I enjoyed listening to recordings of the recollections of older Chinese people and reading about Chinese culture and beliefs. The temple is still used so we entered with reverence respecting that it is a worship space.
So that accomplished our mission for the day and it was very well worth it.
But the highlight for me was the serendipitous find along the way of an exhibition at the Darwin Visual Arts Association gallery. It opened Friday night. Titled 'Pyjama Years: Surviving Anxiety, Depression and Panic' it featured artwork by Leah Clarke and this morning she was there. We talked about her experience and looked at her fabulous watercolors. She shared warmly and generously about the days when she couldn't get out of her pyjamas and about what it was that brought her back to functionality again. A great sign of hope that there is a way through and to live with depression. My thoughts have gone back to her since then - her bravery, her generosity, her talent. Thank you, Leah.
And what's more, while we were talking we discovered that she lived in Berri for a while as a child.
Check out http://leahjmclarke.blogspot.com.au/ for some of her work which expresses so well her expereicne. I think her work admirably fulfills her aim of adding to the awareness of anxiety and depression and the effect it has.

.

I found this on Leah's blog and loved. One of my other favourites at the exhibition included a black cat.

Another holiday blog - yep I've lost count

At the previously mentioned dinner (you did read the previous blog, didn't you?) I watched other people and listened in to snippets of their conversation. I was intrigued by the 'I've been everywhere woman' (Marg). There was a  generous supply of soft drinks and a few people bought their choice of drink from the bar. Towards the end of the evening she suggested to Peter that she buy him a  drink since he had paid for hers earlier. His response was that one was enough for him and he didn't need another.

Marg: But I owe you one.
Peter: No that's fine.
Marg: Let me pay you. (purse in hand)
Peter: No Really that's fine.
Marg: It's  my shout (becoming insistent)
Peter: Oh all right. Cab sav then. (sigh)
Marg: Ah, now we're even stevens
[I couldn't resist saying, 'But his name is Peter!']

So I know the old Aussie custom of shouting and rounds. As a non drinker I've been careful to avoid such rituals. What if there are 6 people out together? Do you have to have 6 drinks to keep it 'even stevens'
And in this case Peter was forced to have more drinks than he wanted. (She was a very pushy woman  -takes one to know one!)
But the bigger issue for me was Marg's inability to accept his paying for the first drink and leave it at that. It seemed hard for her to feel she was in his debt and she wanted to pay up. Made me think of so many times when it's not easy to accept something freely offered whether a compliment, an offer of help or the gift of God's grace so freely given.

Holiday Blog 3

Food glorious food!
Those of you who know me well know that I like food.
But holidays are strange. Recently I have had a good friend and a family member spending time on holidays in overseas locations. Their holiday pics are interesting - including snakes and feet nibbling fish - but also heaps of exotic food. Hotel buffets and roadside snacks. Maybe it's all the go to share photos of what you are eating as people do on Facebook showing what they are having for breakfast.
So here we are on holiday and the old hunter gatherer thing kicks in. So yesterday I read a lot of menus outside eating places, keen to get value for money and something pleasant to eat. Then there's the supermarket where I checked for fresh fruit and veg. Apples are not big in the NT and it was so tempting in Woolies where they offer a free apple for  children. I was tempted to ask if I could take an apple home for my child who was not with me. Never mind that my youngest child is now 36!
I was delighted with the fruit and cheese platter leftovers that HE brought home form the workshop -- even nicer because I wasn't paying and who could not be tempted by the breakfast tray outside the next room complete with wrapped cheese platter not even touched. Must be the fact that I was brought up in the shadow of the depression or ??
But sometimes free comes at a price. Wednesday night was the workshop dinner. I expected David to go and I planned to get wedges (maybe  even lash out and get sweet potato wedges) and then watch my favourite TV - Gruen and stuff.
During the afternoon I was told I was welcome to go to the dinner. Dilemma. Dinner at the Yacht Club. Sounded OK. Casual - yep I'd packed suitable clothes. (After all, the pants had been to  Government House in Adelaide. No need to mention that they went on my friend Jan who then gave them to me.) So OK. I'd go.
We went on a bus (two busloads) with heaps of people (maybe 90 all up). I think I knew 6 of them. So we sat outside where the warm breeze dried me out.  The food was nice although Joella makes better pavlova. But I remembered why I had avoided work dinners when HE worked at Flinders in Adelaide and they all talked shop while my eyes glazed over. So it was. I did talk to someone about Shakespeare and literature and someone else about the horrors of war but my face ached from smiling at the woman who was in Las Vegas last week and San Francisco the week before who told us we should eat at Sliding Door or some restaurant there. Yeah right! So I didn't have to spend money on wedges but maybe it would have been a price well paid.

And did I mention that the sunset was a feature. Call that a sunset? Never been on the shores of Lake Bonney at dusk obviously....

Holiday Blog 2 Incommunicado

My sister's answering machine message assures callers that she is 'incommunicado at  present ad will get back to them later.
Once upon a time holidays were a time to be 'incommunicado' (not communicating with anyone else because you do not want to or are not allowed to.) Only urgent communication happened and that not easily.
How things have changed. On day one of my holiday I answered emails from home giving info needed for an upcoming event and so did himself.
On our first trip to Darwin in 2005 our daughter was completing her thesis and needed it proofread. So we visited the Internet cafe to access it. Remember those days? Now there is free wifi in the hotel foyer and in our room as long as we sign op for the loyalty program, and while eating my fries (and free Coke because I'm a senior) in Maccas there was free access to my Facebook friends.
In the days of our first Nokias we got a call while we were in the Museum at Townsville and I remember David standing with eyes closed trying to visualise a computer keyboard and talk a colleague through some hassle.
Or there was the time when I answered his phone. He was on long service leave and despite giving instructions on who to call when needed one of the bosses called him. Unlucky for him he got me and I informed him that we were on holiday on Mt Hotham (in October) and David was inspecting the last remnant of snow. The man knew there was someone else to call but that person hadn't answered and he didn't know what else to do to solve his problem. Really. He was plaid heaps to know what to do and I nearly told him! He was suitably repentant when next I saw him.
Then of course there's social contact with family and friends. No more perusing the tourist shops and newsagents for the cheapest postcards and sending them off. (I used to send Mum a postcard each day I was away.) Instead I'll ping them a text message 'wish you were here' and maybe a picture of me in the pool or of the leftover cold pizza for breakfast. Hm! Holidays....

Holiday Blog 1

Darwin. For the fifth time. Weather - warm. Always.
So what is new? I was surprised how much looked familiar as a I roamed the CBD while HE set up for the workshop. All those techie bits in the luggage nearly brought us undone as evidently lengths of cable in the carry on luggage are a no-no. Guess I'll have to find more room in my case for it amongst the clothes and things. HE had a huge bag but it was already full of cable covers and microphones and video cameras and stuff. Along with the undies and toothbrush which is all a man needs.
So we've seen the sights before (except for the crocodiles which don't appeal to me), but I really enjoyed the day. Why? People.
First of all there was Raphael. In the concourse at the airport. I thought he was a small coffee stall and then when he asked if I knew about Manuka honey I thought he was going to give me some to taste. But no, he ended up defoliating my wrist and smoothing it with some sweet concoction all the time charming me with his South American accent. Price? 1.60 sounded good. Oh, one hundred and sixty. No thanks but have e nice day. It was a bit early in the morning for communication of any human sort (before 8 o'clock) but we joked over his phrase 'woomans and guys' and I coached him to say 'wimmin' and we wished  each other a nice day as we parted.
Then there was Umberto. He was the crew manager on the plane. He greeted me as Mrs Badger and I assured him I was Glenys. I looked at his name badge and attempted a less than Aussie pronunciation of his name and it worked! We were friends. He came to check on us during the flight and used our first names. Did he remember every person on the flight or just us because we had risked connection?
Next came Anton. Two taxis of Flinders staff (plus me as hanger onner) piled out of the cars in front of the Hilton Hotel. There was Anton with a trolley to help us.  A couple of folk looked dubious and shrugged him off. We showed him all our stuff and he went and got another trolley and hung around while we checked in and then delivered our cases to our room. Along the way we chatted about whether we could play Chopsticks together on the grand piano in the foyer and other bits and pieces.
Finally. Food. What to eat? Well Mitchell street seemed full of eateries so we headed off. We were standing outside one place trying to work out the Tuesday $10 pizza deal and the burger and ale (Something Yak) deal when along came Leah, bright and chirpy and explained it all, even taking us to the bar to try the said Yak (Ewww) and brokering a soft drink exchange. We ordered, she told us she was from South Aus and assured us it was too hot to be bitchy. She wafted past like a breath of fresh air as we ate and made sure all was well. And it was.
Readers of this blog (I think there are about 8 of you now!) know I'm a hopeless tourist. So what does it for me? People. Oh and maybe food, but that's another story.

Riding the buses

Ever since I got my Seniors Card (at 60) I've thought it would be fun to hop on one of the many buses that goes along Anzac Highway near where we stay in town and just see where it ended up and then catch another one and then another and...
I also had a bit of a yen to go on the OBahn.
Well at last it happened!
Last Saturday we had some spare time (it was either that or clean the house) and thought we'd pop into town to see a SALA exhibition of the work of Andrew McDonough who does the Cecil the Sheep books that we often use for Holiday Adventures with Primary School kids.
We waited a few minutes and a random bus came along saying it wsa going to Tea Tree Plaza. It had to go into the city so we hopped on. Five or six minutes and we were at our destination but in a moment of daring we decided to stay on and experience the OBahn and TTP.
Well that was fun! I don't like shopping centres but not bad for a walk on a rainy day and we had coffee (not the cheapest and not the dearest - and not the best) then hopped on the bus back into town.
Lunch, then a bit of a walk to the SALA event and then a bus home.
What a day! Phew, can't say I'm not  a jet setter!!

More Musings

It's a while since I wrote here and I thought perhaps it was enough but it seems not. If you are not a member of the Uniting Church I give you full permission to skip this one. Or even if you are...
On Friday night I attended, as an observer, a special meeting of the Presbytery Synod of the Uniting Church in South Australia to consider some issues around the storage of nuclear waste. The focus was on solidarity with the Uniting Aboriginal and Islander Christian Congress.
There were 8 speakers and a chance to discuss and ask questions.
Many of the speakers spoke with passion and emotion.

Some things were clear:
Nuclear medicine does a great job of diagnosis and treatment
There is already clear wasue and we need to deal with it
We acknowledge the dreadful treatment of Indigenous people in the past

But it is a complex issue.
It is clear that the Adnyamathanha people do not wish to have the nuclear repository on their land at Barndioota in the Flinders Ranges. But is there any land that is not considered as belonging to some traditional owners?
There was no mention of the studies done regarding seismology or impact on water systems; it was just assumed there would be problems. Nor was there mention of other voices in the community (as in a letter from the Hawker Uniting Church in the latest edition of New Times. (You can track it down on line if you are keen.)

We read many pages of information supplied as background reading but felt some was ignored and dismissed out of hand. Three was also some clouding of the issues by not sticking to the topic and talking about high level waste which want on the agenda for the evening.
It was surprising that a quorum of members was not achieved. Maybe Friday  night at 6.30 was not a good time or maybe some were reluctant to be involved where emotions run high.

I was glad to have the opportunity to hear more and to listen to what was said. I was grateful for the wise and sensitive leadership of Moderator Deidre Palmer and proud to be part of a church which doesn't avoid the issues but seeks a way forward in relationship.

PS The first draft of this got lost somehow. I'm sure it was brilliant. I offer this rewrite as a poor substitute.

Let them eat cake

I read recently that 'they' think there should be less cake eating occasions - birthdays, people leaving a job, people starting a job, and all sorts of other times when people celebrate with a cake. The alternative should be a fruit platter 'they' said.
Good luck with that, I thought.
But I did a bit more thinking.
Do we have too many celebrations? Many things for which to be thankful. So that celebrating becomes mundane. I well remember the tradition that my husband brought to our family of Sunday lollies. The story goes that he and his siblings would take it in turns to have lunch with Gran (who lived next door) on Sundays and would return bearing the lollies to share. Just one or two each. We carried the idea of Sunday lollies  into our family and at least one of our children has a version of it in operation.
Now lollies seem to be the go all the time along with chocolate. And cakes.
I have long used chocolate frogs as currency to thank workmates, to reward those who get the right answer in children's spots in church an d so on. It just wouldn't seem the same to hand out a banana. Although I must admit that when children came knocking on our door at Halloween we offered them a carrot (no we didn't confuse them with the Easter Bunny) and some even were gad to accept.
So next time there is a celebration for which you are expected to take food, it's simple. A bunch of carrots should do the trick...

Post Ration Challenge

So how was it the morning after?
It was chilly and I didn't feel in any hurry to get out of bed. (The Ration Challenge was due to finish at breakfast time. I wondered how many people had a very early breakfast!)
I didn't feel hungry and there was almost  feeling of anticlimax - a bit like after exams are over or a major project completed. You look forward to it for so long and when the time comes.....
Toast seemed a a luxury. and I wasn't even sure I needed coffee. I opted for moderation so a piece of toast with avocado and a weak coffee started the day. Later at a sumptuous afternoon tea it was the cut up persimmon that took my fancy and still the hot water seemed refreshing.
There was almost a sense of guilt. The refugees are still there doing it tough.
My appetite is small but we did enjoy the vegetables with dinner.
It seems it takes adjusting when you finish a week like that as well as when you start.
My innards rebelled (You are interested in my innards, aren't you?) and are feeling a bit delicate.

To sum up:
We've gained in appreciation of what we have - in abundance and a multitude of choices.
We've learnt that we can live very nicely on less.
We've thought a little more of the plight of refugees.
And we've been supported so warmly by many friends.

That's it, folks. Thank you for sharing the journey with us.

Ration Challenge Day Seven

Nearly there now. Last day for us although others have finished.

How do we feel? It's interesting but I am feeling not hungry and finding I can't finish the meal dished out in the size bowl I would usually use.

Rice and beans, flat bread. This is what we couldn't eat. Empty container had our 70g of cheese. All gone!!

 Maybe it's because it's nearly the same every day. I am beginning to feel sympathy for those Israelites. God provided mannah (not sure what that was) in the morning and quail (all those bones!) in the evening - for 40 years!! No wonder they lamented, "Take us back to Egypt. There was plenty to eat there. We remember all the cucumbers, melons,leeks, onions and garlic. We had all we wanted." Mmmm, garlic...

Well we're not short of food. We've had plenty and have about 2 kilos of rice left as well as quite a bit of oil, some flatbread  and some teabags. (We've 'enjoyed' quite a bit of hot water. "How would you like your water, Dear? Hot or cold?")

Frequently asked questions?
Were you hungry?
No.
Was it hard to resist goodies?
Strangely enough no, but we know we can eat them after tomorrow - if we want to.
Did it help you identify with refugees?
Just a little.
We realise that food is only a part of the situation. For them it goes on for ages. There is uncertainty and unrest and discomfort. We enjoyed our warm fire and warm beds and security.
Were your innards affected by the change of food?
I had wondered about this but our shared apple at night (part of our 'reward' for raising over $1000 seems to have kept things going.
And if you are reading this, my dear Doctor, my blood pressure readings have been excellent the last few mornings.
Did you have withdrawal symptoms?
I had thought here might be problems with the lack of sugar and coffee. But no ill effects. My doctor will also be pleased about the lack of sugar!
How much did you raise?
At last count $1160 but people were still putting money in our hands at church this  morning which will take it to $1210. Thank You.
Were you grumpy?
You will need to ask others this one but I don't think I was any worse than usual!
Did you lose weight?
Yes. But I don't expect it will all stay off once we get back to our usual food. I hope some of it will be gone though.
Were you short on energy?
Not at all. We did all the usual things and I think I even slept  better than usual except for last night when someone in our street was making a disturbance which prompted me to be outside in my night attire and bare feet at 3 am. I even think I felt more energetic than usual, maybe.
Will you be eating rice this week?
NOOOOO!
What will you choose to eat for breakfast?
Toast. Vegemite. Maybe avocado. I think we will need to add other foods carefully or else my innards may be a problem. and I'm not sure about coffee...

I'll let you know in one last blog after we finish.

Ration Challenge Day Six

So how about socialising when you are eating food rations for a week? One day I met a freind for coffee. I just bought her coffee and drank water. She knew about the Challenge so it wasn't a problem.
But during the week there are three occasions to make food for functions - a morning tea, and  two afternoon teas. Strangely enough although I would be more interested in the savoury toast (see photo) than the chocolate biscuits, I wasn't tempted by either. No craving at all. It must be hard for people still cooking for their families as normal while eating their pile of rice with meagre flavouring. But maybe even harder for mothers cooking rice yet again and knowing there is not enough for their children.
The morning tea I only had to supply food but the  afternoon teas were social gatherings. What to do? Take my rice with me? Spend time serving others and chatting? I took a leaf out my son-in-law's book. He was diagnosed with coeliac disease some years ago, long before gluten free was understood or trendy. Often at social occasions when offered food he couldn't eat I would see him politely wave his hand and say,"I will resist." No big deal about it nor fussy "I can't eat that.' So maybe for the remaining foodie occasion before we're done, I'll just politely decline and let people think I am a fussy foodie. Or maybe I'll just head for the kitchen and wash up.

No words needed!

One day to go...

Ration Challenge Day Five

Not much to say today.
Flat bread, lentil soup (with rice, no veg), rice and beans.

I mentioned previously making  cards to aid our fundraising. and people were generous. I debated about putting a price - I used to sell them for $1 each and raised $1000 for children in Kenya that way. This time I decided to offer cards as a gift. People could take them if they wished or give a donation. A visitor queried this, thinking I should name a price. Maybe it would be less awkward but there was no pressure and I am sure it gave people freedom to add in more money than I expected.

I really appreciate the way people have been interested in what we are doing and have gone out of the way to encourage us. So for all you dear readers I am adding some of the photos that were on the cards. Some from  nature and some of my colouring in. If you would like a real card let me know your address and I'll happily send you one.

Flowering gum

Scarlet robin

Our front yard last summer

A $3 bag from Woolies - food.

Can you spot the bird?

2 days to go...

Ration Challenge Day Four

No problems about today. No decisions about what to eat. No photos. Simple.
For a few years now we have made it our habit not to eat on Thursdays. Many wisdom traditions advocate fasting as a practice that is good for the body and the soul.  We had done the 40 Hour Famine a few times and knew it was possible, if not much fun, and knew family members who had done more extended fasting. We also read about John Wesley doing what he called a Thursday fast  which meant not eating till dinner time on that day.
We started this practice after seeing Michael Mosley advocating the 5:2 eating regime with 2 days a week of limited calories - 500 or so. He had evidence to show the health benefits of this. For me it seemed easier not to eat at all than to fiddle with counting calories, and so it began. Can't say we really like it but it has had health benefits and adds time to the day, as well as breaking the 'addiction' to food. Sure food is kinda necessary and it sure is nice but many of us think we can't live without it.... Well you can for a day at a time without too much hassle. It makes us grateful for what we have, and frees us from being tied to mealtimes and food. David still plays tennis on that day and we do all the usual things. It's not like  we were going to fade away. My doctor was pleased with the reduction in weight (initially) and lower cholesterol and stuff.We don't even call it fasting; just that we don't eat on Thursdays.
We are not rigid about it. If someone invites us out for a meal, we eat. And if breakfast is included in the room rate, we definitely eat!
So today no thought about what to eat and a rest from our week's issue of rice. Some fasting days we indulge in coffee and juice but today it's just hot water. Flat bread and rice are sure going to look good in the morning.

Three days to go....

Ration Challenge Day Three

No new news about food today. Left over watery lentil soup for breakfast, (It was quick and easy, hot and OK. Rice for lunch, fried with a little oil and grated pumpkin, tea the same as Monday - rice and kidney beans plus a bonus sardine. Gotta love those sardines.
Today I want to pay tribute to our sponsors. My first interest in the Rations Challenge was to see whether I could manage on the food allowed. Partly out of interest and partly because it was a a good cause. We have been supporters of Act for Peace (best known for the longstanding Christmas Bowl Appeal) for a long time and I was happy to raise money and consciousnesses of the plight of refugees.
This campaign seemed pitched at the younger generation and fundraising was mostly on line. It was suggested that Facebook be used to publicise the challenge. I chose to use that method but also to email friends and to solicit the help of church family.
I have been encouraged and surprised and blessed by the responses. People at church have quietly pressed serious folding money into my hand. The dear kid who comes to work in my yard with me for an hour a week gave me one of his hard earned dollars -  the smallest but perhaps one one the most valued gifts. (He's 12 so too young to take part although he wanted to.)
Via electronic means we received generous donations from; a former colleague I have seen only a couple of times over the last 12 years, someone I studied with and have had links with through the wider  church family, and a couple who came to live in our town over 30 years ago and taught us about eating vegetarian food for the sake of making food supplies go round.
Probably the one that blew me away was when we got home after being away for a few days and found an email alerting us to a donation - a substantial one. From a very unexpected person. Someone we know only a little. Her generous gift came with well wishes and a tip on how to extend our rice supplies by making a watery brew. Such a gift of grace to us.
The Challenge tips suggested that sometimes refugees are able to make a little extra by selling craft products so I made a few more of my cards using some of my most recent photos and some of my colouring in. I put them out for sale at morning tea at church with no price - just suggesting a donation if people wished to contribute. Over $100 went into the pot over 3 weeks and there were not that many cards!!
And so it continues with  several people telling us they plan to give us a donation after pay day or when they had cash with them.
And so we have raised over $1000. A big thank you to all.
But for me it was never all about money although Act for Peace will make good use of it. It is about raising awareness of the plight of those in need and also being grateful for all we take for granted.
Thank you, thank you.

Four days to go...

Here is a gift for you..

                           .

This is one of the photos I used for my cards. Taken by my daughter, Bethany, at The Sanctuary, Deep Creek.
Copyright. Used with permission

.

Ration Challenge Day Two

It was a grey day today. The shortest of the year. Breakfast was left over rice and beans from last night. Warm and nutritious. David made some very flat bread. I had a bite; it was warm and crispy. I thought perhaps I was addicted to coffee or even toast, but I think I am addicted to choice. Although I believe some people are saying that the huge array of choice on supermarket shelves is doing our heads in.
Maybe the lack of choice this week gives me more time and head space. Just cook the rice and beans or lentils and decide which day we'll add some sardines. (And maybe it will help me experience  a little of how refugees feel.)
It will surely save money and maybe time as well. So that has to be a positive.
A routine visit to the doc affirmed the possibility that it may even be good for  my health. The lack of sugar must have some effect. Or is that the reason I feel dull should I just blame  the grey drippy weather?
I had wondered about no coffee. Would there be withdrawal symptoms? Evidently some get severe headaches. I would usually drink 3 or 4 cups a day but so far so good. I'll keep you posted.
I'll spare you the details about my innards.Suffice it to say I shouldn't have worried.

Sumptuous meal tonight - rice and chickpeas with a sardine. A  little homegrown pumpkin from our extra veg allowance. Yummo!

Five days to go.

Ration Challenge Day One

I got up and made my take on flatbread. I couldn't be bothered with kneading and rolling so made a sloppy mix of the plain flour and water and poured it into a pan with a smidge of the oil. Just a sprinkle of grated cheese topped it off. Then the first cup of tea (black) from the daily tea bag. Seemed fine. But I suspect the novelty will wear off. David chose rice for breakfast which he often enjoys but usually with milk and sultanas. I cooked a sloppy batch of watery rice as a sort of soup (thanks for the tip, Grace) and a batch of lentils into soup; no garlic, onion, celery, carrot etc but a bit of grated pumpkin from the allowance and some of Jack's carefully grown, dried and minced chili. (Jack is nearly 9.)
Tea had to be quick in between a dentist visit (ouch to the hip pocket) and child minding duties so I chose to make rice with half a can of beans and two small leaves of silverbeet from the garden but as part of our allotted vegetable extra. It's light (20g) and colorful.
For supper we shared an apple from our 'treat' for the week.
Only 6 days to go and it seems fine but watch this space...

Rations

So this is it, folks. The basic rations pack for the Act of Peace Ration Challenge. It represents the food issued for a refugee for a week. The pack has some rice, oil, red lentils, chickpeas a tin of red kidney beans and a tin of sardines. A ration card allows an extra 1.5 kg of rice and 400g of plain flour. Extra things are added as funds are raised. We are up to $1000 (Thank you, dear people) and so can have an extra 70g of protein (I'm choosing grated cheese), 170 g of veg (that's not much) 8 tea bags, 70g milk powder, 50g sugar and a bonus treat up to $5. For the sake of my innards I'm choosing apples.
It seems some refugees are able to  make a little money through selling craft so I have made some cards using our photographs and church folk have put in whatever money they wish and they have been generous,
So no coffee, hardly any sugar. What will I miss? Toast and Vegemite for breakfast? A sweet snack after dinner - with coffee. I'll keep you postsed. It's not too late to join us (or just try one day with rice and not much else) or to donate at
actforpeace.rationchallenge.org.au.
But above all else please keep in mind the plight of refugees.

Countdown to Ration Challenge

So the Act for Peace Ration Challenge approaches.
 https://actforpeace.rationchallenge.org.au/
A chance to gain an inkling of understanding about how it is to eat like a refugee with a barely adequate and basic diet. I know that like many others I eat because it's nice to eat and I certainly enjoy a range of foods. The Ration Challenge food for a week consists of lots of rice, some beans, lentils, flour, chickpeas, sardines and oil. A small portion (170g) of vegetables may be earned by fund raising.  With this in mind I am savouring fruit and veg. At the moment in our our own garden we have pumpkins, capsicums, silver beet, lemons and mandarins, so just right now I am enjoying them in a way I haven't previously.
I am contemplating eating the same things for breakfast, lunch and tea - as do many in the world. My daughter talks of staying with families in rural India where the same dishes were served for many meals in a row - 3 times a day. 'What would you like for tea tonight, Dear?' Rice and rice...
It should be an interesting week. Certainly we won't starve. I may feel grumpy (What else is new?) as my system reacts to the changes. If we raise $1000, and we are close, then we can add a treat to the value of $5. I think I might choose a kilo of apples. Funny how your idea of a treat changes. I think there may be withdrawal symptoms from no coffee (No, Dear, coffee is not included in the one allowable flavouring for the week. In fact I think salt may be our choice. Just a little for the rice.) My local coffee shop will maybe miss me. Do you serve hot water, my friends?
So maybe I'll post a blog each day to keep you updated. Feel free to skip the gory details if you wish but I hope this week will help to highlight how it is for so many people in our world and to help them know that they are not alone.

Hugging rules

How well I remember having Auntie Olive lean down and kiss me. She was my father's aunt and rarely visited. In fact I only remember this one occasion - mostly because of her unwelcome whiskery chin. I must have been about 4 years old.
Just recently I have been reading about inappropriate touching and hugging - not by paedophiles and those wishing to exploit children but by well meaning citizens who assume everyone is happy to receive their attentions. Have we become a more huggy society? I don't remember being a very huggy family as I grew up although I always kissed my parents good night. Then came the hugging of friends and colleagues rather than more formal greetings such as shaking hands. I must admit when I was teaching students about job interviews about 25 years ago there was still some difference of opinion about whether women should shake hands or whether it was just a man thing.
So I was reading the article that suggested asking for permission before touching or hugging especially with children and suggesting less intrusive greetings eg a high five. (Somehow I'm never sure about high fives and whether the hands are supposed to match up finger for finger and which hand to use.) Even in churches there seems to be a move to hugging and not everyone likes it. I was particularly dismayed when someone greeting people asked it they wanted a hug. When the reply was no, the hugger went ahead anyway explaining that people who were reluctant would get used to it. Ewww...
So I was visiting my family recently and being mindful of all this as I reached for my beautiful 16 year old granddaughter I muttered about needing to ask her permission and said, "So is it OK to hug you?" "Always," was her wonderful response. Hugs for Hannah....

This week, next week

I was sitting in the waiting room - waiting. That's why they call it a waiting room. An elderly man (that means more elderly than me) came in and asked if he could make an appointment for next Thursday. I listened as the receptionist said that was easy and named a time for Thursday 23rd. He nodded happily and went on to say how he'd been there ages before and had been helped and he had the same problem and was expecting the similar fix.So I figured he didn't want to wait too long for his appointment. I wondered if he had heard the date because that day was Tuesday 14th.
The receptionist went on to suggest that they would ring and remind him and that he must let them know if he wanted to cancel. I watched and saw the look of surprise about this. I could contain myself no longer. I popped up to clarify. Did he mean the Thursday in two days time or the one in the following week which as the date quoted? And so it got sorted out.
I have seen others and particularly American friends completely bamboozled by such Aussie usage. If it's Tuesday then the day in two days' time is THIS Thursday and NEXT Thursday is the one in next week. Inst' it? I've pondered whether it makes a difference where you are in the week. If he had come in on Friday and asked for an appointment next Thursday would it have been clear? Does it only become this Thursday when it is close?
Ah, the subtlety of language. I will have to think some more about this. Perhaps next Friday...

PS My sister wants to know the derivation of 'to spit chips'. Can any of you language types help? Google has some idea which sounds spurious.

Eavesdropping

What fun it is to listen in to other people's conversations! Recently while on a few days' break we enjoyed our cooked breakfast and then sat by the fire to read the paper in the lounge area - and even played a game or two of pool. Four women came in and sat drinking coffee. After a casual greeting we went on about our activities and they chatted. Well, I heard about whether the laundry cupboard were the place for sheets and towels or whether they should be nearer the bathroom, about the right colours for a new house, about throwing out junk and decluttering and there was even a serious discussion about the difference between baked and roast potatoes. The authority on the  matter declared that roast spuds were peeled and cooked in fat whereas  baked had no oil and had their skins on. I was so tempted to tell her that a light wiping over with oil makes baked potatoes so yummy and crisp.
Of course the advent of mobile phones has made eavesdropping so much easier. People seem to feel free to speak loudly in public while on their phone. I was walking down the main street one day when someone loudly said, "Hi Gorgeous" so I turned round and said hello only to discover I wasn't the gorgeous he was speaking to!
I consider it poor form to speak loudly on the phone while at the table in a restaurant and feel that if someone speaks so I can hear then I should feel free to join in.
Recently we were eating in a pub dining room and the man at the nearby table could be heard asking someone if they had been raped and saying it had happened to him three times. Oh my goodness! I glared at him. Was he joking (and rape is no joke) or was he talking to someone who had just come out of prison and....  I don't know because he moved away, thank goodness.
Please let's bring back telephone boxes. But then again I might miss out on hearing where to store the towels.

[ In case  you were wondering an eavesdropper is someone who stands at the eavesdrop (where the water drops next to the house) in order to hear what is said within.]

Simulation

For a number of years I worked at the Riverland Clinical Simulation Centre - part of  Flinders University Rural Clinical School in Renmark. I was admin assistant but was very much aware of the role simulation played in the medical education of student.doctors and nurses. Some of the basic skills were taught eg how to insert a cannula into an arm.
To start with there were disembodied arms that students stuck needles into, but as things progressed we realised it was not just the mechanical skill of getting that needle in the right place but also a matter of approaching the people (who may hate needles) and explaining the procedure. So the later fake arms came with attachments so a real person could 'wear' it and the student developed a good bedside manner.
The use of Standardised Patients was common in the education process and also as part of the exams where students would be confronted with about 15 different scenarios in a row, as per a normal consultation process, and would need to find out the history and ascertain a diagnosis. I played various roles - the mother of a teenager with migraine, someone with pains in the chest and someone demanding antibiotics whether needed or not.
Perhaps the most memorable was the 'breaking bad news' scenario. After 9 different students had had to tell me that the surgery on my husband had not been successful I was wrung out. I had wondered, as I approached  the session, whether I would cry on hearing the news. The first student came in and explained the situation and I burst into tears. Because the nature of the thing is that the patient is 'standardised' ie has to be the same for each student I needed to burst into tears every time after that.
The GP who was the examiner awarded the points for the day but as patient I got to give an empathy score. Some students obviously didn't know how to handle a patient in tears. Although we put a pack of tissues in a prominent position and I didn't reach for my usual hankie, I was left a number of times wiping tears with my finer. (I notice this happens in films. Where is their hankie? My Mum always made me carry a hankie and I still do!) The very best of the students indicated their care by a simple move forward slightly and were comfortable with silence for a month. By the end of the training session I had to go and find my husband, who worked in the same building, to shake off the melancholy of the morning.
So when Adelaide University (my old uni in the days when it was THE uni) called for volunteers to be involved in simulation education for nursing students I answered the call. To be a 78 year old (that was hard!) subject to Elder Abuse. The scenario was explained and the scene set. The educator stressed that we had to put ourselves 'in their shoes'. Of course. You actually have to become that person and enter into their experience if you are going to do a credible job. I even went so far as to invent names for the two husbands and daughter mentioned in the story. Because if the nurse asked about family you look pretty silly not knowing their names.
A week or so ago we were away for a few days and went out for a game of tennis. Ten minutes into the match I twisted my knee and could barely walk for the next few days. I discovered what it was like to need to park close to the hotel we were dining at and to avoid steps or else to approach very carefully and lean on something to get up and down. At the netball a few days later I had carefully climbed up the few step of the 'grandstand' and then realised how hard it would be to get down. A lovely young woman I didn't know kindly lent me her shoulder to help me down each of the three large steps. How much I take for granted my mobility. On this occasion I wasn't simulating anything. It was real - and not fun. I wondered if perhaps I should spend a  few more weeks having to use a stick or a walker or even a wheelchair. Perhaps that simulation would really help me (not) walk in someone else's shoes.
I'm so glad my knee is nearly all better and that I'm not really 78 - yet...

Here the pennies dropping...

As a small child I sang 'Hear the pennies dropping, listen as they fall, everyone for Jesus he shall have them all.' And apparently there are still those who need to hear the pennies dropping. In an age where cash is not used so much and many rely on electronic means for many matters, there is less visibility (in some cases) when giving to the church.
So some churches have devised methods to make people feel good when the plate/offering bag is passed around.They give people a little card to pop in the offering to show that they have given electronically. A bit like the badge on your chest that shows you've donated at Badge Day. (Do Badge Days still happen??)
In the church where I grew up there were dated envelopes for people to put their giving in. They were even separated down the middle so you could put some for missions and some for the local church. I guess you had to have the right money for both portions on hand each week.
When we first earned our own serious cash we had become part of a church that had a stewardship system. One of the officers of the church came to visit us (two rich school teachers) to see how much we would pledge to give and to make sure we had a set of envelopes. Being young and idealistic we informed him that we didn't want to be bound to a set amount. What if the Holy Spirit encouraged us to give more than we'd promised. We didn't want to be locked in. Imagine our surprise (were we naive or what?) when after a few months we received a letter commending us for our giving of  x dollars. (Yes it was dollars. We are not that old!) It was then we realised that the envelopes were all numbered (which they weren't in our growing up church) and our giving was recorded. Nup, that was the end of that. We believed what we gave was between us and God. and sometimes the taxation department who queried the  amount we gave in support of charities until they go the idea that that was normal for us.
And so now I wonder about the need to be seen to be giving by putting something in the offering. Didn't Jesus say something about that? And if it's a matter of people needing to know  eg children needing to know about these things can't we simply tell them? There are so  many ways of giving that don't include money on Sunday morning.
Anyway if this is the was things are going, I  want a little card that says 'I put mine in last week.' for people who get paid fortnightly or maybe one that says 'I'm skint this week.' or 'I spent my offering money on something else.'
Or maybe just an empty envelope or........

Keeping Australia Alive

I watched the ABC TV series 'Keeping Australia Alive' on iView which means I saw 7 hour long episodes over a couple of weeks. Although I spent about 7 years working for Flinders University School of Medicine I am not really a medical person and find the scenes of surgery not to my taste.
But what has really impressed me )other than the number of surgeons who wear suits and ties) is the amazing range of people throughout Australia doing a great job of caring for people and giving them the best possible outcomes. The joke amongst medical students used to be that the people with no bedside manner should become surgeons, but, on the contrary, on this program I have seen surgeons talking to their patients before operations in the most compassionate and caring manner including trying to minimise the scariness with small children.
One GP commented that while the health system is not perfect it is full of people trying to do their best. There have been a number of GPs featured who work in small or remote communities and  work long hours but say they get as much out of it as those they help.

I cried with those who have bad news and also at the miracle of birth. I was amazed at the resilience of those facing terrible situations and making the best of them. Those  looking death in the face and being philosophical. Our headlines are often horrid - full of horror and appalling behaviour. But after watching this series I am reassured that there are so many good people in the world working for the good of others, bearing and sharing pain and working in teams to keep not Australians alive. We are so blessed...

Surfing the shopping

I rarely watch anything on television that I haven't' purposely recorded to watch when I have time. And sometimes these days I catch up with something I've missed on iView. (Yes, I'm an ABC fan.)
So when we are away for a few days on a break, I like to pick up the TV remote and channel surf. So many channels and so much sport. Flick, flick. And 24 hour news. No thanks. And recently I discovered there's a whole food channel I didn't know about. Nup!
But the one that really gets me is the SellingStuff channel. I know it probably has a name but that's what it's there for. To sell stuff - and go on and on and on about it. Not just a 30 minute commercial but more like half an hour maybe.
On a recent shopping surf I saw a hairdresser waxing eloquent about a very expensive product to rehydrate hair. So if your hair needs hydrating, why not wet it? Ah no, my thirsty hair is crying out for his product and will then look glossy and gorgeous like the model on display.
Another day I saw the session about using primer. No not before painting a surface but before putting on foundation - on your face. First there was powder, then we needed foundation before powder and now primer before the foundation before the powder and...  I think they even admitted it was a bit like filling in the crevices and Spakfilla came to mind.
The one that really got me going was the food processor thingy - a sort of inverted glass blender that would turn 'boring kale'(they said it, not me) into a glorious smoothy. So good for you. (I bought kalette in the shop the other day because I had never seen anything like it...) The presenter suggested you should use one if you don't have knife skills. Really? Did they really mean if you can't cut things up with a knife. If you're going to just hurl stuff into a blender how fancy do the knife skills have to be?
So they decided to make soup (the know all man and the gushy woman) using cooked chicken, sweetcorn and cream. Into the thingummy, blend it up and then whack it in the microwave. Hm!
The final straw was that people were being egged on to do this so they would be the envy of everyone in the lunchroom at work . 'Oh look, she's got mooshed up stuff in a glass, heated up.
They exclaimed over how much time it would save. Must admit I couldn't see why you couldn't take the cooked chook (the woman said she'd roasted it the night before) and slap it between two slices of bread and away you go. You could even add lettuce (or kale) or tomato (providing you had the necessary knife skills).
And don't get me started on the price. I saw the same brand product and other similar things in the shops at a much lower price. So for now I'll just stick to my knife (I'm sure I have knife skills) my stick belnder, microwave or saucepan. Or perhaps I'll just go make a sandwich...

Mouse tales

I read that a dear friend had had her personal space invaded by a mouse. What to do she asked of her Facebook friends. The obvious answer was to get a cat but that is not allowed in her accommodation.
It put me in mind of some of my mousey experiences. Just a few days after our  marriage we moved from our city upbringing place to our first home together - in the country. The floorboards had no coverings and so on the first night we were aware of the patter of little feet (and no our first child didn't arrive till 4 years later).
My glory box bits and pieces did not include a mousetrap  although we had startled some friends by asking for mundane things such as a broom for wedding presents. That good old SABCO broom is still used to sweep the floor.
So when we met the Methodist minister in the bakery the next day, as well as signing  David up to be a lay preacher (not me, I was and still am a woman) he heard about our mouse problem, and delivered a mouse trap to our house. I had never seen such a thing - a hexagonal shaped thing capable of letting 4 little mouse heads at a time enter and be trapped. So what joy to lie in bed and hear one trap go off and then another and wonder if there would be a number 3 and 4.
Some years later when we had our own house in Laura there was a mouse plague. Although we didn't have mice in the bed as some did, I was bemused to find that they ate their way through plastic to get to the contents of containers and could disappear into the tiniest crevices in the wall. We had a cat but he soon grew tired of the diet of mice or even the fun of catching them. We had the plain ordinary type wooden mousetraps of the day - just a few as there were none to be had in the local store. Later when they restocked we bought up big and had a good line up of traps on hand should they ever be needed again.
I was an at home Mum at the time and so when the traps went off, as they did with monotonous regularity, I had to deal with them. I believe you can get disposable traps now so you just discard the whole thing but this was 30 years or more ago. My easy disposal system was to hurl the trap and mouse into the chook yard and come back later for the emptied trap. Some people claim their eggs began to taste mousey.
Nowadays again living in the country we get the odd mouse or two. We figured that was why the current cat sat and looked so intently at the compost heap. All good. We were away for a few days recently and on coming home I was glad to see all was as it should be. Until I walked abourn the side of the dining room table and saw what I took to be a piece of grass on the floor. (The squeamish should not read on). I reached down to pick it up and it had a slightly rubbery feel and alongside it was one small foot.  Mouse tails indeed...

All g

Often I reply to people in texts or emails with 'Goodo' or 'No probs'. The other day I came across a new expression of OKness. 'All g' which I took to mean 'all good'.
Interesting that. When so much is not all good.
Made me think of one of my favourite heroes of the faith. Have I spoken of her before? Julian of Norwich.

Julian of Norwich (c. 8 November 1342 – c. 1416) was an English anchoress and an important Christian mystic and theologian. Her Revelations of Divine Love, written around 1395, is the first book in the English language known to have been written by a woman. Julian was also known as a spiritual authority within her community where she also served as a counsellor and advisor.^[1]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_of_Norwich

Maybe I also like her because one of depictions shows her with a cat.



Her Feast day is in May so I was reminded of her recently and one of the sayings attributed to her.
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

So things must have been pretty good for her...  
But wait a minute. This is what is said of her:

'Julian was known as a spiritual counsellor. People would come to her cell in Norwich  to seek advice. Considering that, at the time, the citizens of Norwich suffered from plague and poverty, as well as a famine, she must have counselled a lot of people in pain. Yet, her writings are suffused with hope and trust in God's goodness.'

I keep coming back to this again and again. How can you say that all will be well in a time of great pain and suffering. Was it easier for her? Hardly likely. Has suffering changed? No. So the only way to be able to say that all will be well is the same as for Julian - to trust in the goodness of God.