Freedom's faces

Whilst on a trip to the museum in a city little over an hour from us, we came upon the Maori Battalion display. Men who served during the Second World War for New zealand. Theirs is a facinating story of spirit and courage, adventure and comaraderie, victories and tragedies. They served on the battlefields of North Africa, Greece, Crete and Italy.

The Māori Battalion followed in the footsteps of the Māori Pioneer Battalion that served during the First World War with success, and was wanted by Māori to raise their profile, and to serve alongside their Pākehā compatriots as citizens of the British Empire. It also gave a generation of people with a well-noted military ancestry a chance to test their own warrior skills.

Our farm kids' maternal great grandfather served in Italy too. He spent 4 years or so confined to a tank. Once home, he never spoke of what he had seen but his life carried the scars. And the drink helped him forget.

Whilst the children watched a short film about the Maori battalion, I wandered along the rows and rows and rows of faces, faces of men who had dodged bullets, carried messges, fought in trenches for our freedom. I prayed for them and their families...and wondered where they all were now and how the war had shaped their lives.

Two little boys - Rolf Harris

Two little boys had two little toys
Each had a wooden horse
Gaily they played each summer's day
Warriors both of course
One little chap then had a mishap
Broke off his horse's head
Wept for his toy then cried with joy
As his young playmate said
Did you think I would leave you crying
When there's room on my horse for two
Climb up here Jack and don't be crying
I can go just as fast with two
When we grow up we'll both be soldiers
And our horses will not be toys
And I wonder if we'll remember
When we were two little boys
Long years had passed, war came so fast
Bravely they marched away
Cannon roared loud, and in the mad crowd
Wounded and dying lay
Up goes a shout, a horse dashes out
Out from the ranks so blue
Gallops away to where Joe lay
Then came a voice he knew
Did you think I would leave you dying
When there's room on my horse for two
Climb up here Joe, we'll soon be flying
I can go just as fast with two
Did you say Joe I'm all a-tremble
Perhaps it's the battle's noise
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys
Do you think I would leave you dying
There's room on my horse for two
Climb up here Joe, we'll soon by flying
Back to the ranks so blue
Can you feel Joe I'm all a tremble
Perhaps it's the battle's noise
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys

Photos: A marching song of the Maori Battalion :: photos of the men in the Maori Battalion ::

Most New Zealanders of my generation will know Rolf Harris - an Australian musician, singer-songwriter, composer, painter and television personality. Harris was born and grew up in Perth, Western Australia

Ugly-Beautiful

Some days I wish could wrap myself in a chrysalis. One that smells of cinnamon  or wildflowers preferably, where I could go about my day in desultory fashion...meandering. Where everything was the embodiment of ideal. The Epitome of dulcet, enchanting, halcyon. BEAUTY.

However some of my days are often filled with cacophony. 7 lively boys and a tomboy daughter explode on the scene no later than 6.30 every morning. Some days are maladroit and mediocre. Others are down right repugnant.

Shrill shrieks of siblings bickering. Missing school books and pencils that need sharpening with that elusive sharpener. Wet washing and not the slightest hint of sunshine on the horizon. Phone calls from well meaning people who KNOW we homeschool in the mornings  so are not available to chat. It all grates on my insides, twists my stomach into knots. 

And then there is this:

The messy corner cupboard that needs clearing out. re-organising

And this:

Untidy pile of recipe books

And this:

Piles of laundry that get no further than here

However when I stop. JUST STOP. All suffuse and chafed. And I seek a vestige of tranquillity...I seek the God who made all...I hear His whispering....

'look here':

Preserves already accomplished

'And here':

Food inspiration

'And here':

Clean washing and the facilities to make it happen

And I can again see the beauty of the gifts #604 ~#613:

Buying paint for bedroom walls with friends

Coffeehouse coffee (while we waited for our paint orders!)

Killing time at the park before youth group drop off

Riding the swings and flying fox with my teens

Church home group

A homeschooling trip to the museum with the middle-ies

Serving travellers

Littlest boy asking me turn toward him in my bed so he can seek my face

He and I waving goodbye to Lifestyler Husband and Our girl out a rain-stained window at 4am

My teens scratching out John 3:16 of their own accord, in the sand on the shoreline

And everything becomes incandescent again despite the mountains of laundry, the carnage of unwashed dishes and the never ending pick up.

And I make the choice to be thankful, to be enthusiastic, enraptured and grace-filled  for my children and husband. And for my God.

Woodcutter’s Wisdom by Max Lucado

 Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before—such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.

People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. “This horse is not a horse to me,” he would tell them. “It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?” The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.

One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. “You old fool,” they scoffed, “we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you’ve been cursed with misfortune.”

The old man responded, “Don’t speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?”

The people contested, “Don’t make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse.”

The old man spoke again. “All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don’t know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?”

The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was fool; if he wasn’t, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.

After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn’t been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. “Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us.”

The man responded, “Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don’t judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?

“Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don’t say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don’t.”

“Maybe the old man is right,” they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.

The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.

“You were right,” they said. “You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever.”

The old man spoke again. “You people are obsessed with judging. Don’t go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments.”

It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.

“You were right, old man,” they wept. “God knows you were right. This proves it. Yours son’s accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever.”

The old man spoke again. “It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows.” ~ Max Lucado

WOW! What  powerful story. From now on I am going to think in terms of 'White Horse Moments'. Good judgement requires a broad picture. Something we think we have had since the beginning of time when Adam and Eve ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Though they ate of that tree - they did not become like God.

Yes we can now see good and evil but we do not have the knowledge of God. We do not have the knowledge He has. We see only a portion of the whole. We need to focus on Him wholly - He is the Tree Of Life. That is what we are called to do. He will take care of the rest. He is the author of our story.

 Where were you when I created the earth? Tell me, since you know so much! ~Job 38:4

Seeing we cannot judge those things which were done so long before we were born, we are not able to comprehend all God's works: much less the secret causes of his judgments.

During life's calamities and terrors (White Horse Moments) we need to remember God is sovereign and He is always good, working all things for good. (Romans 8:28)

Photo glimpses:
2012 flood through our property::Water as far as the eye can see::The next morning::Lifestyler Husband checking for damage::A house full of water

H & B Kitchen: Creamy Shrimp Pasta

You are 10 steps away from the best (and easiest) pasta dish this side of heaven.

It's what I served to the multitudes at my dinner table last night.

I came home at 5pm yesterday - tired after being out all day - to find extra people had been invited to stay for dinner...but that no-one had made an attempt to start said dinner....

I could feel the indignation start to rise in my chest.

"Careful' the Lord cautioned me.

"Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God." - Romans 15:7

  My heart immediately smiles sheepish. Yes Lord.

I touch one of the gentlemen on his arm. They pause mid conversation for me to speak. Smling I ask "Is there anything you men do not eat?" One answers "Meat".  The others shake their heads. Ahh, well now, that's good and easy. All that getting huffy for nothing I murmur admonishingly to myself.

And after the meal and after Lifestyler Husband has read us from the bible and I have snuck in a couple of chapters of our current read aloud, I invite the visitors to stay the night as they have travelled far. They gratefully accept and Pilot son and I gather and haul bedding and pillows and make up beds.

(the sojourner has not lodged in the street; I have opened my doors to the traveler), - Job 31:32

Creamy shrimp Pasta Recipe

Ingredients:

• 700g penne pasta, uncooked
• 1kg shrimps or prawns (Omit or substitute for other)
• 2 T butter
• 2 T olive oil
• 2 large onions
• 4 garlic cloves
• 1 C white wine
• 400 g can tomato sauce
• 500 ml heavy cream
• 2 T fresh parsley
• 2 T fresh basil
• 2 t salt and pepper

Directions:

1. Cook pasta to until a la dente, set aside.
2. Cook shrimp in 1 T butter and 1T olive oil in a pan.
3. Remove to a plate.
4. Add the rest of the butter and oil to pan, cook onion and garlic until tender.
5. Put cooked shrimp on cutting board, cut into small pieces.
6. Add wine to pan, cook for 2 minutes.
7. Add tomato sauce and mix well.
8. Add cream and stir well, mix in cut up shrimp.
9. Add cooked pasta and fresh herbs.
10. Enjoy!

Weekend Webativity: Dessert anyone??!!

For Such A Time As This...

I’m on my sister’s social networking page when I see the comment. My auntie’s mum has had a stroke.

I’m glad I am sitting down on my bed.

Granny Mavis with her glasses and wavy white hair — 98 and still mending and knitting and whatnot despite her hunched shoulders, back problems and crumbling bones.

This kindly lady who looked upon my sister and I as part of her own though we were barely related through my aunt’s marriage to my father’s brother.

'Rise in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God. I am the LORD.'

- Leviticus 19:32

This kindly lady who is great great grandmother to little ones.

The kindly lady who seemed elderly when I was young, now sits in a hospital bed, still physically capable but unable to communicate.

Auntie and Uncle live overseas and Granny Mavis lives with them and at this moment we must all seem so very far away to them.

We too feel we are too far away at a time like this.

So we do the next best thing and join together over the social networking site and via email and pray health for our elderly friend in a hospital bed.

O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me. Psalm 30:2

Lord God, you are the one who grants us the days of our lives and fills them with your loving care. We praise you for the many years and countless blessings that you have given.  Strengthen us with the reminder that our days are in your hands and our purpose in this life comes from you.  Fill our minds and hearts with thankful thoughts, pleasant memories and quiet contentment. Your grace and the forgiveness of sins are blessings that alone are enough to sustain us. Let all that Jesus has done be the first thought of the morning, the foundation of the day and the comfort each evening. Thank you Lord, for the privilege of laying our hearts and concerns in your hands and for your promises that comfort and strengthen us each day. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.

The Gift of Grattitude

There are two things I am learning whilst recovering from my anxiety disorder.

One is to give thanks for everything - every day, every hour, every minute, every moment.... When you focus on the goodness of God - it conquers the fear. When you start to give thanks for the small things, you start to realise God is with you...every day, every hour, every minute....every moment.

And two - it is only by the grace of God that we are where we are.

With a roof over our heads.

With an income that supports our family sufficiently.

With food in our bellies.

With warm clothes to wear.

With healthy children.

We have no more right to these things than anyone else. But by the grace of God we were not born in a country where these things fail to exist...

Basic things.

Basic things we take for granted.

It is all a gift.

Every day, every hour, every minute, every moment...

Humbly I offer more thanks to God for these gifts:

This new space (#589)

being organised (#590)

Easy dinner recipes (#591)

(Hard Thankyous) More info requested for cild's school exemption (#592)

(Hard Thankyous) 14 day notice (#593)

(Hard Thankyous) Local body hampering (#594)

Out & about after illnesses (#595)

Exercise climbing up and down hills! (#596)

Our boys bestfriend here for overnighter (#597)

A sleep in after a rough night  (#598)

Boys making a pancake brunch (#599)

Boys just hangin' with their mate (#600)

A church blessing upon our family (#601)

Community Compassion (#602)

An offer of help (#603)

H&B Kitchen: Oat and Vanilla cookies recipe

Quick and Easy is the name of the game. These cookies go down a treat.


(Doubled recipe - cut in half if preferred)
3 C flour                                                                            1 C coconut
2 t baking soda                                                                  1 1/2 C cooking oil
1 1/2 t salt                                                                         4 eggs
4 C sugar                                                                           2 T vanilla essence
3 C rolled oats

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees C
Get your cookies trays ready - I use baking paper on mine
In your bowl (I use my Kenwood) mix together all the dry ingredients.

Once combined add the oil, eggs and vanilla and mix well.

Roll the cookie dough into walnut sized balls and place on the cookie trays - consider dear mama of involving little hands to help with this step. They love it! Special memory creating times (wide smile)

Bake 10 -15 minutes.

NB* Cookies should be light brown and chewy - not crisp.

Watch them disappear ☺

Weekend Webativity: 31 ways to bless your children!