Instant Potatoes…..

…….are gross.  Quite simply – they are disgusting.  Quick, yes.  Simple to make, yes.  But taste good?  Quite definitely, no.

Must be a market for them though, cos people buy them.

Gross.

We live in such an instant society these days.  Drive through food, coffee, and even drive through banking these days.  We lift up the phone and are instantly connected.  We start up the computer and can immediately chat to friends and family, anywhere in the world.  There is live news, live weather.  Bam.  Instant everything.

Makes for an impatient people I think.

I know I get impatient.  Funny how time and time again we have to wait for God answers and God miracles…….but they are always worth the wait.

Why do I always forget that things happen in His timing?  Looking back at my own life I have seen this, time and time again.  Babies – all according to His timetable and not my own.  Friendships developing – in His timing.  Confirmation of visas and moving – in His dayplanner.  And it is a perfect plan.  Hindsight is a glorious thing.

Maybe next time I’m in a hurry for things to happen according to my diary, my timetable and my timing, I should remember that instant ain’t always good.  Just like the potatoes.

Beauty in Ashes

I’ve traded my diaper bag for a proper handbag.

I’ve gone for a little drive, and haven’t needed to lug a carseat around.

I’m using wifi in a coffee shop, drinking a pumpkin spice latte and feeling foreign.  But liking it.  Loving it even.

Fall is definitely here, in all its glory.  I love it.  The leaves – the range of colours – magnificent.  Just gorgeous.  There is a fresh dumping of snow on the mountain at the edge of my valley.  All around me is perfect inspiration for poets, artists and writers.

I was looking out of my kitchen window this morning, studying  the range of leaf colours and the thought crossed my mind that the beauty of the colours, comes out in and through the act of dying.  Through the length and breadth of the wondrous display, that is Autumn, God shows real beauty in ashes.  Yes God gives beauty for ashes.
“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.”—Isaiah 61:3.

Yes God gives beauty for ashes – but I also believe – like I see in the leaves – God gives beauty in ashes.  In the whole process of dying, leaving, moving on…..

A friend of mine had awfully sad news this week, when her Mother passed away, very unexpectedly. There was no warning, no chance to say goodbye, nothing but a huge shock.  Yet in all the sadness, all the heartache and all the emptiness that comes with death and the passing on of a loved one – still my friend has hope.  Still my friend can hold onto sorrow that is somehow made sweet.  Still my friend can quote Psalm 118:24  ‘This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it’.  And she means it.  How?  Because of the wonderful exchange that God makes possible – beauty for ashes – and beauty in ashes.

There are no words or actions to make certain tragedies better.  The process of grieving is a long and hard one – for Christians and for non-Christians, but YET, time and time again, I see God in the process. I see God in the ashes.  And I’m so grateful.

“The deeper you and I are rooted in the unfailing love of God, the less we sway when the winds of life blow harshly.” – Anon.

Sink or swim?

Another unanswered email.

Whammo.

Another unanswered text.

Ugh.

Another promise of something, only to have it changed last minute because of their schedule and their issues.

Sigh.

Another day of no phone calls – other than the Spunky Hunk checking in.

Another social event where conversation is one-sided and no-one bothers to ask me about me, or my family or my anything.

Up go the walls of my heart.

Up goes my level of frustration.

Up goes my sense of injustice.

Down goes my level of patience with everyone.  Down goes my confidence in myself.

But the more I reach out to people and the more tired I get of receiving a negative response – I realize there are so many other lonely people out there.  So.  I can’t give up.  Not yet.  Not yet there are more hurting people around me.  Not while I am still hurting.

How I long for this world to be revolutionized by people who actually care about others.  How I long for social media to be used as a tool to introduce people to my loving God.  How it frustrates me to no end to see man’s selfishness time and time again.

And yet, even when I am hurting I know God’s richest blessings all around me.  The words of a worship song flow from my lips.   I can thank the good Lord for boy one, two, three and four.   I can thank the good Lord for His calling and his enabling for the Spunky Hunk to do his job, his ministry; our ministry.

Sink or swim?

I’ll swim thanks.

Who’s the boss?

The Hurricane, aged four, has always been a little on the chunky side.  Not chubby – not obese – but chunky. Mostly muscle his doc says.  Trouble is The Hurricane also has a liking for cookies.  And I love to bake.

So add that all together – a Mum who bakes often for fun and to fill the menfolk’s tummies plus a child who loves to eat what the Mum has baked, who is already on the chunky side, and what do you have?  A situation where the Mum has to make a change – put her hand up and say ‘woah’.  Something has gotta change.

Who’s the boss?

In this particular situation – me.

In an attempt to get The Hurricane to eat a bit healthier – nothing over the top – he’s not on a diet or anything (I’m not that radical and he doesn’t need that ) – I have stopped baking.  Yep.  Gone cold turkey.  Although if we  were to have visitors I would whip out the flour and butter lickity spit.

For me, it was easier to say let’s not have that stuff in the house at all – rather than ration and hide and bribe and coerce.  Call me weak.  I don’t care – for this particular battle it was easier for me to say ‘out of sight, out of mind’.  And so far, so good.  I’m being the boss.

I’m in charge of my decisions and direction.  I come under the Big Boss’s guidance for sure – for everything – God is my ‘driver’, and yes I do believe in coming under the leadership and mantle of the Spunky Hunk.  I am a submissive wife – hallelujah – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  But there are a lot of day to day decisions that are mine to make – in conjunction with the Big Boss and the Spunky Hunk.

With this blog, I’m in charge of its direction.  Thank goodness I never feel like I ‘have’ to write, I don’t ‘have’ to follow any particular posting schedule.  Fellow bloggers that may be reading this today….who is in charge of your writing?  Are you writing because you have something on your mind that you’re gonna burst if you don’t share it?  Are you posting blog entries because you want to entertain or teach?  Or have you been slowly sucked into the ‘gotta build readership up’ strain of blogs?  Are you writing because that is what is expected of you?  Are you linking to others out of pure self-promotion?   Harsh words I know but only you know what is your real and pure motivation.  Maybe just maybe, while you attempt to fulfil the demands placed on you it is sucking the joys out of writing for the sake of writing…….or…writing ‘cos that’s what the Big Boss wants you to do.

I had to stop my baking habit.  For the sake of my kid’s habits.  I had to be the boss.

Who is the boss of you?