You can tell you are having a roaring NYE when you are writing on your blog at 10:42!
Actually, I recon it's just about perfect. I'm hanging out at Tim's folks house, there is a beautiful rainy breeze wafting through the fly-screen, Lord of the Rings is being watched now that Back to the Future is over and i am downloading photos to facebook so that I can free up the camera to take photos in NZ. I have never been a big NY party person, and I think, with our trip starting tomorrow i really just wanted a quiet night.
My New Years resolution was to Morn with those who morn and to be joyful with those who were joyful.
I think I did it. Or at least I got better at it which I guess was what I was really aiming for.
I don't know how to think about next year. I know it could be good and i know it could be hard. This year was. And in fact, knowing what know about Life and God and the world I suspect both will be true.
My aim for this year i think is pretty simple. I just want to keep serving God, keep serving Tim, keep serving the people of Chatswood Baptist. It may not sound very grand or exciting, but sometimes it's the simple things that are the hardest and the most important things.
I don't know what this year will hold. But I suspect the first 10 days will be awesome!
New Zealand here we come!
love B
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Family
I've been thinking a bit about family lately. Not that this is complete surprise, given we are staying in Melbourne and it's Christmas time.
We've got to spend lots of time with Grandparents. Photos seem to be a bit of a theme. Nan and i got out the photos from when I was little. "You were so lovely. So friendly and happy. Don't know what happened!" Grandma and Grandpa feel sad because though we always take photos they are always digital. They want something they can hold in their hand or put in an album to remind them of the years that been. That for them is a big part of how they cling to us when we are often far away. I'm printing some out this week for them.
Tim and I were given a great honour as some of our dear Melbourne friends asked us to be the God parents of their soon to be born child. They said they wanted God Parents who would be godly models that they wanted their child to emulate. It's one of those compliments that makes me feel both very happy and unworthy.
On Christmas Eve night we had our first Christmas party of just the immediate Grant family. Tim's parents, us, and his siblings and their respective attachments. Elise Tim's sister said "It's so much more fun now. Their used to be only three of us, but now I have two sisters and a husband." I get a bit teary when I think about those words.
People always talk about "Do you have a family?" or "Starting a family". I get really, really mad when i hear that. It seems to imply that because Tim and I are as yet to have children that somehow we are not really a family, that we don't fit into that category because there are only two of us. That we are not in and of ourselves legitimate.
But it's even more than that. Do I have a family? YES. I have the most marvellous, wonderful family! I have brothers and sisters and Aunties and Uncles and Cousins and Children and parents and Grandparents. Some are because of the blood in my veins, some are because of the wonderful man that I married. Some are because of dear relationships with Christian brothers and sisters.
And I am so thankful.
love B
We've got to spend lots of time with Grandparents. Photos seem to be a bit of a theme. Nan and i got out the photos from when I was little. "You were so lovely. So friendly and happy. Don't know what happened!" Grandma and Grandpa feel sad because though we always take photos they are always digital. They want something they can hold in their hand or put in an album to remind them of the years that been. That for them is a big part of how they cling to us when we are often far away. I'm printing some out this week for them.
Tim and I were given a great honour as some of our dear Melbourne friends asked us to be the God parents of their soon to be born child. They said they wanted God Parents who would be godly models that they wanted their child to emulate. It's one of those compliments that makes me feel both very happy and unworthy.
On Christmas Eve night we had our first Christmas party of just the immediate Grant family. Tim's parents, us, and his siblings and their respective attachments. Elise Tim's sister said "It's so much more fun now. Their used to be only three of us, but now I have two sisters and a husband." I get a bit teary when I think about those words.
People always talk about "Do you have a family?" or "Starting a family". I get really, really mad when i hear that. It seems to imply that because Tim and I are as yet to have children that somehow we are not really a family, that we don't fit into that category because there are only two of us. That we are not in and of ourselves legitimate.
But it's even more than that. Do I have a family? YES. I have the most marvellous, wonderful family! I have brothers and sisters and Aunties and Uncles and Cousins and Children and parents and Grandparents. Some are because of the blood in my veins, some are because of the wonderful man that I married. Some are because of dear relationships with Christian brothers and sisters.
And I am so thankful.
love B
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Christmas Cooking
WARNING TO FAMILY MEMBERS- CHRISTMAS TREAT SPOILER ALERT!!!!
When Tim and I first started working in ministry- it occurred to me that Christmas cooking would be a cheaper way to deal with the struggle each year to scrounge together enough money for all the gifts. So, with every Christmas magazine I could find at the time, I pulled together a list of interested Christmas gifts to make for relatives. As my sister and my Mum are not sweet tooth's and so wouldn't be such fans of that kind of thing- I recruited them to help with the process. And so a tradition has been born.
I love it. I love the process of choosing what we do. And I love the chance to cook with and for my dear families.
The first item on the agenda was biscotti- as I felt like giving our "present plates" a sophisticated edge. One thing I learnt from my collection of I think about 8 different Christmas magazines is that almost anything can be Christmasy if you just have the right ingredients or colours. Cranberry and Pistachio biscotti- surprisingly easy!
Second item was another "Not-really Christmas but we can just make it green and red and no one will mind" item. Turkish delight! I'm a little nervous about it's chances (last i heard it was still yet to set), but the idea was so cool that we couldn't resist!
Candy Cane merrange (sp). We were a bit sceptical about whether we could match the cool red food colouring swirls that the magazine suggested- but I think they turned out pretty good.
And finally- the truffles. Sandy had organised some of her youth group girls to join us on cooking day- it was lovely to meet them and it great having them on board
Have I mentioned lately that I love Christmas?
love B
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Lasagna sandwich
Well, we are on holidays and in Melbourne and it is less than a week until Christmas.
Writing those words- you would probably think I would be welled up with joy. And I will be. Just. Not. Yet.
I'm still in recovery.
I'm still in recovery from two weeks of Christmas craziness at church, the two and a half mad days of packing, 5 hours of steady cleaning and then 10 hours of driving.
Something I observed and was pointed out to me while I was working for RMIT is that after an intense period of work it takes a few days for me to properly relax and in fact for the first few days I often feel emotional and miserable. And while being in Melbourne is keeping off the misery and I am very tired and very, very emotional.
We stopped at my Grandparents for the night last night, and I was so happy to see them but also felt down to know that it had been a whole year since I had seen them! That just seems too long and it was unsurprising but still sad that my wonderful Grandmother (who is starting to loose her memory) kept referring to me by the names of the female Grandchildren who she actually does see on the regular basis :(
But we had lasagna for tea, so that made me feel a bit better.
Several years ago, actually its probably more like 7 years ago, I mentioned to my Grandma that I liked lasagna. From then on, any time I went to her house there was always lasagna. And I mean always. Our family would arrive and Grandma would have a lovely dinner made for us, and then she would pull me aside and say "Bindy, there is also some lasagna here for you if you would prefer it". And there in the fridge would be the two lasagnas she had made especially for me to get me through the time we would be staying with them. Even as her memory has been fading, my love of lasagna has somehow stayed with her.
But my favourite was when Tim and I were driving down to Melbourne or up to Sydney one time and Grandma made us sandwiches to take with us. I took a bite. It was absolutely delicious, but like no sandwich I've ever had. So I opened it up.
She had made me a Lasagna sandwich
love B
Writing those words- you would probably think I would be welled up with joy. And I will be. Just. Not. Yet.
I'm still in recovery.
I'm still in recovery from two weeks of Christmas craziness at church, the two and a half mad days of packing, 5 hours of steady cleaning and then 10 hours of driving.
Something I observed and was pointed out to me while I was working for RMIT is that after an intense period of work it takes a few days for me to properly relax and in fact for the first few days I often feel emotional and miserable. And while being in Melbourne is keeping off the misery and I am very tired and very, very emotional.
We stopped at my Grandparents for the night last night, and I was so happy to see them but also felt down to know that it had been a whole year since I had seen them! That just seems too long and it was unsurprising but still sad that my wonderful Grandmother (who is starting to loose her memory) kept referring to me by the names of the female Grandchildren who she actually does see on the regular basis :(
But we had lasagna for tea, so that made me feel a bit better.
Several years ago, actually its probably more like 7 years ago, I mentioned to my Grandma that I liked lasagna. From then on, any time I went to her house there was always lasagna. And I mean always. Our family would arrive and Grandma would have a lovely dinner made for us, and then she would pull me aside and say "Bindy, there is also some lasagna here for you if you would prefer it". And there in the fridge would be the two lasagnas she had made especially for me to get me through the time we would be staying with them. Even as her memory has been fading, my love of lasagna has somehow stayed with her.
But my favourite was when Tim and I were driving down to Melbourne or up to Sydney one time and Grandma made us sandwiches to take with us. I took a bite. It was absolutely delicious, but like no sandwich I've ever had. So I opened it up.
She had made me a Lasagna sandwich
love B
Monday, December 14, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Too much of myself in my story
"It's just such a Bindy story!"
This was the statement that stuck out of a conversation between myself and Tim. After a week where I moved from work, to packing to sleeping and back again for Four days straight- Tim and I had a well deserved date night. We found a little path by one of the many gorgeous bays of our adopted city and walked and talked. It was lovely.
As sometimes happens, our conversation turned to my story. I had been getting into writing again (the inspiration always seemed to hit when there are less fun jobs like packing to do), and Tim was asking questions about the story.
As Tim is the only one I tend to discuss the particulars of my story with, I really value that time. Idea's rise and fall in those conversations- as saying things out loud that seem really great in my head often put them in a harsher and truer light.
Now Tim is quite happy to leave the novel writing of the relationship to me- but he actually very perceptive about creative things. He's also easily bored (lucky I'm such an exciting person!) and so he knows what draws you in- because it needs to be a page turner or a really fascinating story in order for him to keep going.
His comment about it being a "Bindy" story was explained something like this. "You like to be happy. And so you write things that would make you happy, that would make you go "ahhh". Your characters are always asking questions, because you love questions. You want to love all your characters, so you make them all good, or pretty good, and then just make one or two really bad. But you don't read a novel because the whole things makes you happy. Things have to annoy you, things have to shock you, things have to make you cry. Otherwise there is no suspense"
So true!
I remember when i was in my early teenage years my sister commented that in anything I write my main characters were always exactly the same as me. An old novel I started writing at Uni was written from the perspective of four very different girls and their take different takes on their life events and friendship. It began not as a novel at first but as an exercise to teach myself how to write in different voices. It was an awesome experience, to take a known weakness in my style and skills and just throw myself at the task of beating it.
So my next challenge is to make my story less "Bindy" and more sad, annoying, shocking and suspenseful ;)
love B
PS Bindy is my family nick-name- in case that whole post didn't make sense!
This was the statement that stuck out of a conversation between myself and Tim. After a week where I moved from work, to packing to sleeping and back again for Four days straight- Tim and I had a well deserved date night. We found a little path by one of the many gorgeous bays of our adopted city and walked and talked. It was lovely.
As sometimes happens, our conversation turned to my story. I had been getting into writing again (the inspiration always seemed to hit when there are less fun jobs like packing to do), and Tim was asking questions about the story.
As Tim is the only one I tend to discuss the particulars of my story with, I really value that time. Idea's rise and fall in those conversations- as saying things out loud that seem really great in my head often put them in a harsher and truer light.
Now Tim is quite happy to leave the novel writing of the relationship to me- but he actually very perceptive about creative things. He's also easily bored (lucky I'm such an exciting person!) and so he knows what draws you in- because it needs to be a page turner or a really fascinating story in order for him to keep going.
His comment about it being a "Bindy" story was explained something like this. "You like to be happy. And so you write things that would make you happy, that would make you go "ahhh". Your characters are always asking questions, because you love questions. You want to love all your characters, so you make them all good, or pretty good, and then just make one or two really bad. But you don't read a novel because the whole things makes you happy. Things have to annoy you, things have to shock you, things have to make you cry. Otherwise there is no suspense"
So true!
I remember when i was in my early teenage years my sister commented that in anything I write my main characters were always exactly the same as me. An old novel I started writing at Uni was written from the perspective of four very different girls and their take different takes on their life events and friendship. It began not as a novel at first but as an exercise to teach myself how to write in different voices. It was an awesome experience, to take a known weakness in my style and skills and just throw myself at the task of beating it.
So my next challenge is to make my story less "Bindy" and more sad, annoying, shocking and suspenseful ;)
love B
PS Bindy is my family nick-name- in case that whole post didn't make sense!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Avoiding a Martha Christmas, and having a Mary Christmas ;)
I love Christmas. I am a total Christmas junkie! I love carols, I love lights, I love the smell of fresh pine wafting through the house. And I love the Christmas story- because it's not just a story it is true and when I remind myself of that I get overwhelmed with amazement at my incredible God.
This year though I am finding myself sliding into a very Martha Christmas. Martha is the sister who was so busy serving that she didn't have time to sit at Jesus feet and listen. Her sister Mary however just sat at Jesus' feet to listen And as I sit here this morning getting ready to wrap 50 odd presents for the kids at church, and ice some thank you gingerbread biscuits for my beautiful, beautiful team of Sunday School teachers- I am tending to think of Christmas as a chore rather than a point of celebration
Ironically I am spending most of my time working hard so that other people do see the true meaning of Christmas- I'm just so busy doing it that I'm forgetting myself. But I don't want a Martha Christmas. I want a Mary Christmas ;)
So, I thought I'd post up some special memory of Christmas that I have, some serious some not- to get my mind back in the right frame.
-Sandy and I loved Christmas time, because suddenly their was a whole new realm of pretend play opening up for us. We would spend hours under the Christmas tree, pulling off the angels and taking them on little adventures
-Mum and Dad and Sandy always kindly set aside my two favourite jobs for me to do- and even as an adult they sometimes still do. I was the one who put the star on the top of the Christmas tree, and I was the one who set out our nativity scene. The nativity scene was made in Bethlehem and was unpainted, wooden and simple. I loved it because it seemed so much closer to what the Bible says than the usual Mary in her beautiful blue robe and Jesus with blond hair.
-My sister was in Israel a few years ago and bought me my own little wooden nativity scene. I am so excited about bringing it out for my Playtime kids on Tuesday and giving them a sense of the simplicity and preciousness of the first Christmas.
-My favourite time of Christmas, funnily enough, was always Christmas Eve rather than Christmas. Christmas Eve had such a sense of anticipation. It was also when we went to church- and that to me was when Christmas went from just another holiday to something special. I remember a late night service at the small church near my Grandparents farm. We sang all those beautiful Christmas Carols and then we walked home under a sky full of country stars. I looked up and imagined the star of Bethlehem- gleaming to show the Magi the way.
-But my most precious Christmas memory wasn't even at Christmas. One night when I was Fourteen (I don't even know if it was December), I remember I was lying in bed and I couldn't sleep. I remember thinking about Mary, who someone had told me was probably very young when she had Jesus, because that's when people got engaged or married in those days. I thought to myself Mary might have been my age. It spun me out so much that I sat up in bed. I looked down into my arms and imagined a little baby in them. And then it struck me. Mary wouldn't just have held a baby. She was holding Jesus. She was holding God! God had become a baby. That was when I finally started to understand.
Immanuel. God with us.
Mary Christmas,
love B
This year though I am finding myself sliding into a very Martha Christmas. Martha is the sister who was so busy serving that she didn't have time to sit at Jesus feet and listen. Her sister Mary however just sat at Jesus' feet to listen And as I sit here this morning getting ready to wrap 50 odd presents for the kids at church, and ice some thank you gingerbread biscuits for my beautiful, beautiful team of Sunday School teachers- I am tending to think of Christmas as a chore rather than a point of celebration
Ironically I am spending most of my time working hard so that other people do see the true meaning of Christmas- I'm just so busy doing it that I'm forgetting myself. But I don't want a Martha Christmas. I want a Mary Christmas ;)
So, I thought I'd post up some special memory of Christmas that I have, some serious some not- to get my mind back in the right frame.
-Sandy and I loved Christmas time, because suddenly their was a whole new realm of pretend play opening up for us. We would spend hours under the Christmas tree, pulling off the angels and taking them on little adventures
-Mum and Dad and Sandy always kindly set aside my two favourite jobs for me to do- and even as an adult they sometimes still do. I was the one who put the star on the top of the Christmas tree, and I was the one who set out our nativity scene. The nativity scene was made in Bethlehem and was unpainted, wooden and simple. I loved it because it seemed so much closer to what the Bible says than the usual Mary in her beautiful blue robe and Jesus with blond hair.
-My sister was in Israel a few years ago and bought me my own little wooden nativity scene. I am so excited about bringing it out for my Playtime kids on Tuesday and giving them a sense of the simplicity and preciousness of the first Christmas.
-My favourite time of Christmas, funnily enough, was always Christmas Eve rather than Christmas. Christmas Eve had such a sense of anticipation. It was also when we went to church- and that to me was when Christmas went from just another holiday to something special. I remember a late night service at the small church near my Grandparents farm. We sang all those beautiful Christmas Carols and then we walked home under a sky full of country stars. I looked up and imagined the star of Bethlehem- gleaming to show the Magi the way.
-But my most precious Christmas memory wasn't even at Christmas. One night when I was Fourteen (I don't even know if it was December), I remember I was lying in bed and I couldn't sleep. I remember thinking about Mary, who someone had told me was probably very young when she had Jesus, because that's when people got engaged or married in those days. I thought to myself Mary might have been my age. It spun me out so much that I sat up in bed. I looked down into my arms and imagined a little baby in them. And then it struck me. Mary wouldn't just have held a baby. She was holding Jesus. She was holding God! God had become a baby. That was when I finally started to understand.
Immanuel. God with us.
Mary Christmas,
love B
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