The Age of Consent

We have always made it a point with our two sons to teach them about consent. They are not obligated to physically touch people, although they do need to be polite. In spite of this, they are almost constantly forcefully touched by adults, even strangers. Well meaning adults expect children to return their physical acts of friendliness or affection simply because they are the adults. 

I have never agreed with this mindset. 

When my boys are saying goodbye to anyone, even family or friends, I ask them, "Would you like to give a hug or a high five?" The boys can say no to both if they prefer to not. Usually my eldest will opt for a high five and my youngest will give a hug. My eldest is naturally more reserved with physical affection, as I myself was when I was a child. 

Growing up, the concept of consent was not taught at all. My grandfather forced me (and other grandkids) to sit on the lap of family friends, many of whom we may have just met. 

Last year, 2018, was a year when I was deeply confronted with my upbringing, the lack of healthy boundaries and I had to learn anew how to make good choices for me and for my family. 

Our precious daughter is now over 2 weeks old. We had some extended family visit us today and of course, they wanted to hold her. She was not happy and obviously just wanted to be with Mummy. She was very fussy and then increasingly upset to the point of loud crying.  

It made me stop and think about what was really going on. At what age is a child 'allowed' to make choices about their own bodies? I do not believe in the idea that 'all babies cry' - implying that they cry for no particular reason. A crying baby is a communicating person. My daughter didn't want to be held by anyone at else at that time. Usually she is fine being carried by our visitors. 

It disturbs me that adults feel that they have the right to force their own wants onto children. How then will we teach our kids how to say no when they are being abused, if we have trained them from birth that they have no autonomy over their own bodies?  

I carried my daughter to the bedroom to feed her and she settled right down and soon went peacefully to sleep. 

Boys can be abused and they also need to be taught about consent. But somehow, having a daughter now, and being a woman who has been abused myself, the lesson is so much more real and close to home. 

I have many parenting goals, but one of them is to teach all my kids to be respectful of other people's boundaries, but also to put in place healthy boundaries for themselves and their own bodies.   
   

The First of a Few Updates

It has been a long (long, long!) time since I posted anything here. I honestly didn't realise how long it had been. So much has happened and there are a lot of changes, both in terms of our lives and our hearts. 

Most of our friends should already know, but we are currently 37 days (who is counting though right?) away from moving from Singapore to Tasmania, Australia. 

I will be 6 weeks short of having lived in Singapore for 11 years. My husband has never lived overseas before and besides small trips to nearby and quite similar countries, my two sons have never been anywhere. Our eldest was in Australia when he was 18 months old and I was pregnant with our second, but he doesn't remember it at all. 

I have never been to Tasmania at all. It has been such a God-led journey getting us to this point. 

We first heard a word to go there in June 2018, just last year. Up until that point, I had no thoughts or considerations in that direction. It wasn't even on my radar. And yet piece by piece, every little thing has fallen into place. 

We will be moving to a 200 acre community farm. We will have our own home on the property, but will be involved with the other families every day in different ways. This is such a wonderful opportunity, especially for our kids...

Which brings me to our other important news. I am currently four days 'over due' to have our third baby. As I don't really put much belief in due dates exactly, and both my boys were more than a week 'late' we are just sitting tight and waiting for this little one to come when he or she is ready. We don't find out the gender so it will be a nice surprise to see if we have another son to add to the tribe or our first daughter. 

Pain

"Sometimes, our pain is very deep and real, and we stand before her very silent, because there is no language for our pain, only a moan. Night's heart is full of pity for us: she cannot ease our aching; she takes our hand in hers, and the little world grows very small and very far beneath us, and, borne on her dark wings, we pass for a moment into a mightier Presence than her own, and in the wondrous light of that great Presence, all human life lies like a book before us, and we know that Pain and Sorrow are but the angels of God.Only those who have worn the crown of suffering can look upon that wondrous light; and they, when they return, may not speak of it, or tell the mystery they know."

Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome
Penguin Popular Classics, 1994
Pages 96-97

Tolerance

We were in church this morning, and a mother was sitting not far from us, holding a child who was about 6 months old. The child occasionally made some noise, not particularly loud, but every time the baby did so, all heads in our immediate area turned to stare, some, not all, with a bit of a head shake. After a few times, a young usher came to her and asked her to take the baby out.

I felt so irritated. Because when did we become so intolerant? "Give the woman a break!" I wanted to yell.

We live in such a morally permissive time. If it feels good, right, comfortable, then you should probably do it. And tolerance in the church is just as present as outside. We even go so far as to promote living in ways that are far from God's will and kingdom. Because, who are we to judge? Who are we to say that our interpretation of manuscript that has been translated time after time after time is truth? What is 'truth' anyway?

And yet, any small inconvenience to ourselves, like having to focus a little harder on the message and not allowing our minds to wander off when a small child makes a small sound, then we are quick to make a judgement. 

What is better? That a mum who may have had a tough week, who may need comfort from the Body, who may not have had much of a chance to sit down and read the Word - that she would have the chance to sit and hear and receive, even if that means her baby makes a little noise? Or should we ask her to leave, to sit outside the walls that protect us from discomfort? 

Is it better for her child to grow up being included in the congregation? Or to learn the modern take on 'children should be seen and not heard'? 

I am not saying that we should allow kids to run riot, to shout and scream and do whatever they want to while in church. The rule of love, of doing what is most loving for those around us, would necessitate teaching and discipleship of congregation kids on how to show respect, how to listen and learn about Jesus, how to be quiet so that others can also have the same opportunity to hear.

This dear mother was not causing any major disruption. She was working to keep her child quiet. But kids make noise. Small noises and large noises. And the inconvenience of that to others should not result in getting escorted out. 

Let us turn our tolerance in a better direction. Let's include whole families in the whole congregation and give parents the space, grace and chance to teach their kids how to love God and to love His kids within the corporate setting. 

Loneliness

I never expected to feel lonely as an adult. I never really thought about it, but if I did, I think I would have categorised it as a childhood school yard kind of problem. 

I was an only child. I have a lot of cousins, but at the end of the day, or the holiday, I went home and was the only child again. I learnt to self entertain. When I was 8-years-old, my Mum and stepfather also took the television from our home, something that I applaud them for now. And then, when I was turning 10-years-old, we moved interstate and it was decided to homeschool me. 

The homeschool community is large and they have many meet ups. But at the end of the day, I went home and I was alone again. 

I do remember feeling lonely as a child, but that isn't the main emotion I recall. 

My days were spent reading, crafting and being outdoors. I was 'unschooled' before it was cool. I have a fairly good grip on the pros and cons of it. 

When I was 24-years-old, I moved to Singapore. I never thought to stay for long. But I chose love here, and the life that came with it. 

My husband has travelled. But he has never immigrated. It is a very different feeling, to stay in a place, even for a longish period of time, than it is to permanently (is anything every really permanent though?) relocate. 

He has a long standing support system here. Childhood friends, teenage friends, family, extended family, cousins, memories, the school he went to, the track he did athletics in... he has roots. Even though some aren't strong, or even particularly wanted, they are there. 

My community here was missional. The very nature of our organisation meant moving on and often. Most of my close friends here have over time moved away, to various locations and for different reasons. And I celebrate with them. I love to see them living and loving God and people wherever they feel called to.

And then, quite suddenly, my community here was gone. 

I don't feel sorry for myself. At least not most of the time. But I do think that this adult loneliness - being alone even though I am in Asia and I'm constantly surrounded by people: looking, listening, getting involved - it isn't talked about much.  

As a foreigner here, I can still speak the local lingo in the right intonation to be properly understood most of the time. I know enough random words in enough dialects to get the gist of most conversations. I can be here. But is my being really me? With all the self-modification, how much of the Aussie girl is left? Now even Australians ask me where I am from. Usually people guess somewhere in Europe. 

As a friend of mine called it, there's a kind of "culture fatigue" after a while.  

It gets tiring. 

But God. I have been meditating on the reality that He is my provider. In Him, there is no lack. When He says He will provide all my needs (Phil 4:19), He means all. I have been thinking about what "all" is:

- health
- physical needs like food, shelter
- rest and sleep
- relationships 

This is not a comprehensive list, but His provision is. 

So now, as I find myself alone and sometimes lonely, I take a moment to face Him. 

"God, You are good. I trust in You for all my needs. I know that You will provide for me, but even if You don't, You Yourself are enough for me." 

Bottoms Before Bags

It happens so often that it has almost become normal.

When travelling on public transport or sitting in public places, we put our bags on the seat next to us.

I really get it. No one likes to put their lovely (and sometimes very expensive) bag on the dirty floor. Floors are filthy. 

Today, I took the boys to a nearby water play park. There are quite a few bench seats around, each catering for two adults. When I first arrived, it was not very crowded, so I dumped my three bags on the seat next to me and sat doing my crochet while the boys splashed and played. 

An hour later, more people had arrived and all available benches were taken. I looked up from my crochet and noticed a fellow mum standing as there was no where to sit, watching her own kids play. I quickly packed up my things, trying to get her eye contact across the space to indicate that I was making room for her. As that didn't work, as soon as I had put everything down, I walked over and asked her if she would like to take a seat. She looked so grateful and thanked me profusely. 

You're welcome, I said. It's too hot to stand around. 

And that was the total sum of our conversation. 

But it made me think about the common occurrence where I have had to stand while others have taken space with their bags. 

And I also wondered how often I had not noticed others standing while my bag occupied a seat?

The most expensive bag I have ever owned was probably about $200. I really don't remember. It was so long ago since 'branded' meant anything to me. I don't actually know how much branded bags cost, but have heard of them costing thousands in some cases. 

There is NO bag that is more valuable than a person. None. When a person becomes less important than an object, something is seriously wrong. 

Our personal convenience should also not outweigh the value of another human. It's easier when carrying multiple bags to take up more seats than we need to. There are, of course, exceptions to this. I am not trying to be legalistic. I have often struggled carrying a backpack, a tote or three, and had the two boys alone while on public transport and in such cases, as much grace as possible from my fellow commuters is welcome! 

But as far as I am humanly able, I want to communicate worth to those around me. To make space, to give grace and to assign value in the right direction. 

Our Childrens' Hearts

We are now two days away from the biggest move of our 4-year-old's life. He was 21-months-old when we moved into our current home. Although this new home will be his fifth since he was born, this is the only one he remembers living in.

We started to notice some difficult behaviour in him last week. He was sometimes angry, and at other times anxious. When I sat down with him to talk, he made statements like, "I will miss my friends", "I will miss this house" and "I feel angry". 

Levi is the most like me, in terms of outward appearance, but also character and personality. One of the traits that we share is that we don't like change. We enjoy adventures, exploring, creativity, new experiences, but we both need and crave a stable home life. 

For myself, growing up, I had the opposite of stability. I have lived in more than 20 homes in my life. My family moved very often, usually every 1 - 2 years. There was no real reason for moving so often. I am not entirely sure why we did. I learnt to manage and to cope, but as an adult, I can process it better now and can see how the instability led to a lot of different behaviours in me. 

For example, I was constantly collecting things. I like to save and hoard things because they were constants. Granted, there was also the creative component of that, in that I saw beauty and usefulness in almost everything.

Levi is quite similar. He loves collections. He knows all his toys and notices if any go missing. 

As a parent during a major life change like moving house, it can be easy in the busyness of packing, etc. to forget that we are responsible to carry, care for and help with the processing of our children's emotions. They do not have the same ability to analyse what they are feeling and to respond appropriately. Change is inevitable, but how we deal with it helps us to transition well. 

So we sit with him. We engage. We give him space to talk. We don't tell him he is silly. We acknowledge his pain. We let him talk about what scares him. Often just the act of looking into his eyes and reiterating his emotions is enough to bring peace to his heart. 

Say The Words

We were on the way home by train on Saturday. We'd had a morning appointment which had run late, so both boys were tired, cranky, wound up and overdue a nap. Our 2-year-old was particularly angsty. I was holding him in my lap and humming to him, while also listening to and occasionally answering our 4-year-old when required. Needless to say, I was hardly aware of anyone else around us. 

When we were at the station before the one we would get off at, I mentioned it to our eldest, as he likes to count down how many stops left.

It was then that I became aware of a Muslim woman, who was standing next to us and had apparently been listening and watching all that we had been doing and saying. 

She suddenly leaned forward, made eye contact and said, "You are such an amazing mother! You would have to be 101% patience. I have never seen anything like it. Well done!"

Four simple sentences. 

And I started to tear as I thanked her.

Now of course, she doesn't know the whole story. She didn't see the many, many times when I was the opposite of patient. 

What struck me the most, was how incredibly rare her comments were.

I/we are bombarded every day with negative messages. 

We aren't good enough. We don't look right. We don't behave correctly. And endless list of 'you should be more's. 

What a breath of fresh air this stranger was! And now, four days later, her words still echo in my thoughts. 

I am reminded of the verse in Ephesians 4:29:

"Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear."

And as I consider the workings of my own heart, I am challenged. Too often, my words are biting and critical. It's become a habit that I must share my (usually negative) opinions, even if only to my husband. But am I as quick and as compelled to share the good? 

I asked myself, what 'glasses' would I rather view the world though? Is my energy better spent noting the negative? Or should gratefulness, joy and contentment be my filter? 

Which attitude comes from a life filled with the Holy Spirit. 

What attitude do I want to model to my sons?

So I pray, and I now work, at catching the little negative comments and replacing them with the good. I am not saying that we should deny the existence of bad days, moods or circumstances. 

But as Philippians 4:8-9 encourages:

"8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you."

I want to choose to spend my energy, physically and mentally, on the good things in life, that are really just blessings from our Father God. 

And I want to be the person who steps across barriers of shyness or social norms, to be the one who encourages others in their various walks of life, speaking kindly and cheering them on. Who know's who might need to hear some positive words in their day?

Presence and Presents

One of my most favourite things is when our almost four-year-old comes into the bedroom in the morning for snuggles. His hair is all ruffled and his eyes are still sleepy as he nestles into my arms. I kiss him on the head and for that moment, everything is perfect.

Some of my least favourite parenting moments are when he constantly asks me for things. Every advertisement, kids show, playdate with friends or at the local playground leads to... "Mummy, I was thinking about buying..." or "Mummy, I want to have..."

I love it when my son wants me, and not the things, the 'blessings' that I can give to him.

Parenting has opened my eyes a lot to how it might be for our Father God. Since thinking about this, I have been intentionally noticing the amount of time I spend asking God for something versus the times I just want Him, and His presence. 

We named our eldest Levi purposefully. In the Bible, when the promised land was being divided among the tribes of Israel, the Levites were not given land, because their inheritance and their reward was the Lord Himself, and to serve him in the temple. (See Numbers 18)

We hope and pray that Levi will grow to be a man who loves God, and lives his life as an offering, without seeking first the inevitable blessings that come from being in God's family. 

It's a challenge. We have needs and desires. And they are valid. But as a parent, I already know what our sons need to grow and thrive and I take additional delight in giving them above and beyond those basic needs. 

And being nagged for things is exhausting. 

A great delight and desire for me is for my sons to want to be with me, to spend time in my presence, without asking for 'stuff'. 

And my great desire as a daughter in God's house is to grow to seek His presence to the point that His 'presents' are not even in my view. 

Goodness is It's Own Reward

It is almost four years now since I 'became' a mother. 

In my pre-motherhood days, I was quite certain of my mothering skills. I knew that I was going to be a natural. I had so many plans and desires about who and what I would be as a mum.

Of course, it came as quite a shock when I realised how far from my ideal I actually was. In fact, not even a week of motherhood had passed when, exhausted beyond my previous me's imagination could conceive, I realised that I just wasn't enjoying motherhood. 

Since then, with a second boy added to my tribe, I have had infinite examples of my own sinfulness as a mother. It has been the biggest struggle of my life; both to recognise my fallenness and to see the effect my bad behaviour has on the little people I love the most.

Lately, God has been teaching me the truth that sin is a choice. I know we believe that in our heads, and have heard teaching on it often, but we hold the opposite as true too, that we are fallen humans, sinners on the road to grace, and won't achieve the fullness of our sanctification until we meet Jesus in eternity...

When I read the Bible, I can no longer hold that as true. 

An example of this can be found in John 8:1 - 11. The passage talks about the adulterous woman caught in her sin. The religious leaders want to stone her to death, and they bring her to Jesus, hoping to trap Him. But Jesus replies them by saying, whoever among you is without sin, he can throw the first stone...

The story ends with Jesus saying to the woman: “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."

If you look up the words, "no more" in the original Greek, it means, "no longer, no more, not hereafter"... (Another example of this can be found in John 5:14)

The problem with this truth is that it is a real slap in my own face. If sin is indeed a choice, and I find myself still sinning, it is my own fault. 

Jesus has already paid the price for my sin, and as a born again, new creation, I already have the power inside of me to overcome sin, that is, the Holy Spirit. 

The weakness and error is mine. 

Not His. 

I am not willing to do the work of dying to my own self, counting my own self as dead, and living in Him. 

And the result is a life NOT filled with the fruit of the Spirit. Which, to be honest, has been what much of my parenting has looked like.

I have been meditating on His fruit for the past week, asking the Spirit to bring them alive in me. Asking HIM to be alive in me. 

Today was not the easiest day. I was stretched, had a migraine, my boys were cranky at being confined inside while a thunder storm raged outside. 

And yet, I was self-controlled and parented with goodness, all glory to God. 

I didn't lose my temper. I didn't get frustrated. Yes, I did correct them, but I did so with love and kindness. 

It stood out to me so starkly because it is so rare. 

And now, at the end of the day, I am sitting thinking about the day, sipping my tea, and I'm grateful to God for being strong in me today.

Responding in love today, entirely powered by the Holy Spirit, felt good. It feels good to not be controlled by my emotions. 

Goodness is indeed it's own reward. 

My Mother's Daughter

Four generations on my mother's side

The women in my family are strong. They've had to be. 

My maternal grandmother was an amazing woman who learnt how to thrive in difficulty. She was resourceful beyond measure. She wore the tool belt in the family, teaching herself skills to repair and construct, while my grandfather didn't know which end of the hammer to hold. 

My mother has been through more than a single body should. With three very unhealthy marriages under her belt, she has lived a life that no one would choose for themselves. She sacrificed so many things throughout her life for men wouldn't sacrifice anything for her. 

My mother isn't the very feminine type. She has never cared much about her hair or her clothes. To this day, she labels herself a 'dag', an Australian expression for someone far from fashionable or cultured.  Personally, I wouldn't go that far in describing her, however, to my own shame, I have some fairly strong memories of being embarrassed by her growing up.

Now, I am also quite sure that being ashamed of your parents is a general human experience. What teen hasn't wished that their parents were anything except for who and what they were?

I made a lot of internal promises, that I would 'never be like my mother'.

And now here I am, a mother of two boys, in my early to mid 30s, and reminding myself of my own mother on an almost daily basis. 

In our bedroom, we have full length mirrors on our wardrobe. I was laying down, putting my two sons to sleep, and without really thinking, I glanced at my reflection. I was struck by how much I looked like my mother. 

And in that moment, all the memories of trying to be as different to her as possible, came rushing back.

But I also realised that I no longer minded. 

I am not my mother. I have made my own choices in life, and walked my own path. But the genetics of me comes from a clear hereditary line. 

As I look at my body, not often with love or appreciation, I can see my history. And suddenly, I recognise that I am part of a family. My heritage is strength. Our bodies are not always beautiful, but they endure, they can do amazing things from creating art to birthing life. 

Correction

My husband corrected me this morning. Oh yes, he actually did... 

Fortunately, he did it nicely.

I was making a few remarks about a friend of mine and my comments were on the judgmental side.

My dear husband said to me, It's funny how we like to talk about establishing heaven on earth, God's Kingdom here, when it comes to sickness and victory etc. But in heaven there also won't be anger and irritability and judgment either.  Why don't we work to establish that aspect of heaven on earth too?

To which I replied, Good point! 

And promptly shut up...

How grateful I am to have a husband who cares enough to correct me lovingly when I am behaving less than Christlike. Thank God!

Yelling

I recently read a blog post called '7 Life Changing Things I Learned From 30 Days of No Yelling' by Allie Casazza.

It struck a deep, personal chord with me, because I, too, am a yeller. 

Just typing the above sentence makes me feel vulnerable. I don't like to be perceived as THAT kind of Mum. I am often complimented for my maternal patience, which I do immediately correct, because patience is one of my most lacking virtues. However, I can see that my rebuttal is seen as 'modesty'.

But it is true... I yell when I am frustrated, angry, hurt, sad. It is a learnt behaviour. I was yelled at a lot when I was a child. And now, as I see myself echoing my own childhood to my children, I know that it has to stop here and now, with me. 

These past 6 months, my husband and I have been getting to know the Holy Spirit more. A lot of emphasis has been on God the Father, and Jesus, the Son, but there is a third person in the Trinity, and He is just as important to personally know. 

And in knowing Him more, the Spirit, I am challenged to see how His fruit, the fruit of the Spirit, are so often not my first response. 

In Galatians 5:18 - 21, there is a list of the works of the flesh, i.e. our natural selves. Among them is 'fits of anger'. 

It goes on to say, in verses 22 - 23:

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law."

I am not going to do a '30 Day No Yelling Challenge'. 

It's not the way I work and such things are rarely effective for me. 

I AM asking the Spirit to work in me, everyday, from now on. 

I am currently on Day 3, and I have to confess, I have yelled at least once on each of those days. My flesh is weak. But I rest and will continue to rest in the fact that it is the Spirit who changes me. 

At each 'failure' I can stop and confess my sin to God and to my children. And I will keep doing this, resting in Him, reminding myself of His Presence moment-by-moment, until I look exactly like Him. 

Helicopter Parenting

I have often heard 'helicopter parenting' said as a negative. It seems that parents either ARE helicopter parents, or they strongly dislike them. 

In case you haven't heard the term before, 'helicopter parenting' is used to describe parents who 'hover' over their kids, being over-protective of them.

I am the type of parent who is not your typical definition of a helicopter parent. If my child is brave enough to climb somewhere high, swing from that bar, ride really fast, etc. I let them. As long as they are safe (i.e. not playing on or very near a road), I think that courage is learnt through play.

But there is one area that I absolutely will 'hover' over my kids... and that is bullying. 

I CANNOT (note the capital letters) stand bullying. 

My sons are 3.5 and 1.5 currently. They have already been the recipients of bullying. Fortunately, they are fairly clueless about the idea of being nasty for fun. But the eldest is just starting to realise when other kids are being mean to him, and their words are beginning to affect him. 

We were at a playground earlier this week and there was a 'pack' of six boys approximately 6- or 7-years-old being led by the apparent pack leader to 'pick on' any other kids in the area. When we arrived, my boys naturally joined in, trying to play with them, but they were quickly ejected from the group.

"You aren't our friend."

"You can't play with us."

"Don't go near those boys. They are just silly babies."

"Don't share your cars with THEM."

Their body language and voice tone were mean. 

Z (1.5yo) laughed and chased them, thinking it was a funny game.

L (3.5yo) slowly withdrew and sat on the outside of the playground. 

I asked him if he was ok, and did he want to talk. He looked crestfallen as he said that he was fine and he didn't want to talk. 

I asked him if he would like a hug and he again said that he didn't.

After a while he came closer to me and asked, "Why do they keep saying I am a silly baby?"

I replied him, "I don't know why. But is it the truth? Are you a silly baby?"

"No!" he replied. "I am not a silly baby."

We talked some more and he did go back to play eventually.

But I sat there with a storm inside me. 

Why is it ok for us as parents to sit back and allow bad behaviour to be normal and excuse it as 'kids just being kids'? Since when do they get to set the moral standard for playground behaviour? How do children learn that it is ok to tease, belittle and be nasty to other children? What kind of adults will they grow up to become? Why are we so paranoid about cleanliness but negligent when it comes to character?

As parents, we need to recognise the difference being over intervening, and allowing bad behaviour to run riot. 

So my sons are #wildandfree. They climb on things. They dig the dirt. They jump off stuff. 

But if they ever DARE to bully, name call or hurt another child, I will be 'on' them quicker than they can imagine. The world has enough hurtfulness. I don't want to raise children to be adults who contribute to it. 

An Ache of Motherhood

One of the most painful experiences of motherhood, is watching your children come face-to-face with the ups and downs of relationships.

This morning, we were at a playground. Levi has been slowly getting to know these slightly bigger boys, who are about 5-years-old. But today, Levi was the 'annoying smaller kid' who was wrecking their game. My precious, but not perfect, 3-year-old was sincerely trying to play with them. But he just didn't get what they were doing. 

I know these other boys from our many playground trips. I've met their parents and have had conversations with the helpers/maids who watch over them. They are not bad kids. One of the boys in particular, is actually quite sweet. 

But today, they 'ganged up' on Levi. They chased him, pushed him, called him names. I watched Levi process what was happening. At first he thought it was funny, just a new way of playing. But slowly I saw him realise that they were not actually being nice to him, and I both saw and felt the change of emotions in him.

I teared as I thought about humanity at large. We are so quick to reject what annoys us. How can I blame these bunch of kids for rejecting my son, when we adults lack the self-control and compassion to embrace those who are different?

When someone 'stomps' all over my 'game', my agenda, my preferred way of relating, my defences come up and I react, trying to protect whatever is mine: my rights, my choices. 

Today, I cried for Levi but I also cried for us all on both sides of relationships. 

As he came running to me, looking for comfort, snuggling into my side, I thought about our Father God, the ultimate parent. If I feel like this, how much must He feel in His amplified love? 

I prayed that my boys would grow to embrace others'. I wish that they would enjoy the differences, to have curiosity and not to shun. May they be a part of changing the way we humans relate to each other. 

Thoughts in My Early Thirties: Finances

I have been doing some thinking about the differences between being in my 20's and now shifting into my 30's, I thought I would jot down some ideas I have. This may morph into my manifesto for the coming decade.

One area that I have often given much thought to, not just recently, but throughout my life, is finances.

I have a diverse background relating to money.

Growing up, we were poor. Like, can't-afford-to-buy-groceries kind of poor. I have distinct memories of not having anything left to eat in the house, and suddenly (and amazingly) there was a knock at the door. When we went to answer, no one was there, but some bags of groceries had been left for us. Such experiences taught me a lot about God's faithfulness and provision.

I started working full-time when I was 15-years-old. I started off as a waitress. When I was 18, I was given the opportunity to work and study Dental Nursing. It was during that time I discovered branded goods and a love of shopping. I thought nothing of spending $200 plus on the teeniest bikini that just so happened to be a particular brand. Those were the golden days of my excessive living and I honestly did enjoy it. 

And then... I went to Bible School... I was back on the poverty line, usually only eating once or twice a day to save money. After a year, I moved to Singapore and joined YWAM.

All that is to say, I have experienced both ends of the spectrum. I was never fabulously wealthy, but I had more than enough to be able to buy whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. And I have experienced lack even down to the necessities of life.

So now, where am I? We are very, very far from wealthy. We have just enough to live on with occasionally a little spare to save. And I am happy for now. 

But my thoughts have recently been, not so much about how much money we have, but about my mindset towards money.

I have come to define money as a tool. It's a great tool to have. I would love to have more of it. 

I think when money becomes a vehicle by which I can indulge on myself, when it is all about me, then something has gone wrong. Self indulgence is not my life goal.

Rise Up, Australia

Have you seen the news? Right now, in Sydney, hostages are being held in a cafe in the CBD. The news is sketchy, details vary depending on what article you read. We don't really know how is responsible, or what they want. 

My heart is heavy as I read about what is happening now in my country. I know that love is rarely the response to such violent acts, but as I am praying, the only thing that keeps coming to my mind is Matthew 5:43-47. 

I am praying for the safe return of all hostages to their families. 

But as I think and pray about all this, my foremost thought, after praying that there are no deaths, is that now, hopefully, finally Australia will rise up.

We are the lucky country. We are SO blessed, so rich in so many things. Australia is the land of opportunity. And I know that Australians rally when others are in need. We often give a lot of financial help when international crisis calls for it.

And yet... we are comfortable. We are isolated. It is easy to ignore the injustice in the world as we go through our daily lives.

My prayer is that NOW we, as a nation, will rise up. My dream is that my country will be on the forefront of international efforts to end violence, war and crimes. Now it has come to us, to our home. So how will we respond? Will be jump to judge, make blanket statements about this race or that religion? Or will we choose the radical way of Jesus, to respond first with love and grace and forgiveness?

Justice will be done, sooner or later, but how we respond now will shape who we are and become. Australia now has the opportunity to choose who we will be, what words we will speak over the perpetrators. 

In no way do I believe that violence is ok. I am not softening the hideousness of the crimes. But let us not match hatred with hatred, violence with violence. Let's move in the opposite direction, stay soft hearted, welcoming to the foreigner, the homeless, the destitute. 



"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?
Matthew 5:43-47

Undeserving

Yesterday, my husband and I were watching an episode of Undercover Boss, the US version. 

The show's premise is that the head of a large company goes undercover for a week, working at the bottom levels of their own company, to see what life is like down there and to access the company from the inside out. 

At the end of the show, the boss usually does some major acts of generosity towards the various people he worked with during the week. 

It's a pretty captivating show, one that we thoroughly enjoy watching. 

This particular episode (Season 4, Episode 2) featured the company Tilted Kilt, a rather scanky chain of pubs, something like a Scottish version of Hooters. The President of the company, Ron Lynch, went undercover and for one of the days he worked with one of his employees, a family man who worked two jobs and a ridiculous amount of hours, in order to ensure that his family, especial his three children, were well provided for. 

At the end of the week, at the big unveiling, Ron gave this man some serious money, set up a college fund for the kids and sent them all on a holiday. 

The father of the family just sat there saying, 'Thank you, thank you' over and over, crying his eyes out. 

And right there, I had a revelation about grace. Because that's EXACTLY what Jeaus did for me. For us. 

He gave us a gift that we just couldn't repay and we could never work hard enough to earn it. Like the employee, there is no way we could pay the 'boss' back. 

It was a gift: and it's a gift that we can only be deeply grateful for. 

Do you remember the moment you were saved? For me, I grew up being a Christian, but it was only after wandering in my teen years, and then coming back, that the true value of what Jesus had done, and was doing for me, hit me. And like the family man above, I was a shattered mess, weeping on the floor 

If only we could keep that reality at the forefront of our minds. How eternally grateful we would stay, and how deeply in love we would remain. Our love would not grow cold. I guess that's the struggle; to not let the memory of this ridiculous gift of grace to fade. 

Thankful

As I lay here, my son sleeping beside me, occasionally nursing or snuggling into my side, my second inside me, beating a rhythm with little kicks and bumps, I have a moment of gratefulness sweep over me. 

I barely slept last night. My son decided playtime was going to happen in the middle of the night. I was so cranky and irritable when I woke and I wondered how I would get through the day ahead. And yet I always do. We always do...

I remember now that I am actually one of the lucky ones. I know of women who's hearts and arms ache for their own little one. They've tried for year on year with no success. 

I just read an article on prostitution in North Kolkata, India (http://www.upworthy.com/he-took-his-camera-to-a-village-where-prostitution-is-a-way-of-life-heres-what-he-found). These women live hell on earth, day in, day out. 

I think that gratefulness really is the key- to joy, happiness, contentment and to living the 'dream' life. There will always be more that we want and need. However, it's always a good idea to stop and recognise the 'so much' that we already have...

Devotions

Source: http://www.amazon.com/The-Jesus-Storybook-Bible-Whispers/dp/0310708257

I was reading to my son the other night, from 'The Jesus Storybook Bible'. We were reading the story when Jesus was in the boat with his friends, and he calmed the storm.

'The wind and the waves recognised Jesus' voice. (They had heard it before, of course - it was the same voice that made them, in the very beginning). They listened to Jesus and they did what he said... 

...Then Jesus turned to his wind-worn friends. "Why were you scared?" he asked. "Did you forget who I Am? Did you believe your fears, instead of me?" 

Jesus' friends were quiet. As quiet as the wind and the waves. And into their hearts came a different kind of storm. (pg: 242)

Wow. I read this to my son and started crying. I could hear the Spirit speaking so strongly to my heart, whispering of the dreams that He has placed there, and daring me to have the courage to trust Him.