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Category: speaker

  • Reconnecting with my sixteen year old self

    Reconnecting with my sixteen year old self

    This weekend I attended my high school reunion.  Suffice to say it was a long time since I completed year twelve. Whilst the event itself was a special occasion, the memories- or lack of memories of my last year of formal schooling has been quite something else. 

    I turned sixteen in the February of my final year in school. My school year was bookended with my mother’s hospitalisation in the January and my bout of chickenpox in November.  I cannot recall very much in between.  The circumstances surrounding mum’s six-week hospitalisation were traumatic and whilst our concern was for her, I have never spoken to anyone about how her burn injuries impacted me.  I wonder if as a result of tucking away this memory I have also tucked away many others as well? 

    Tucked away with that particular memory are also memories of many friendships, the girlfriend sleepovers, parties at my place, school dances, and lunch hours under the tree. It was many years ago, but it seems to be another’s story; as if I am watching a movie with someone else in it. 

    As I reconnected with friends and school mates of another time, I also reconnected with a part of myself that has been fragmented by a difficult memory.  I also returned to a time just before I left home for university and before I met the boy, who later became my husband.  I returned to another time when I was just me at sixteen. 

    I often wonder what I would say to my sixteen-year-old self if that was at all possible. I reckon that I might have told her to have a little more fun; because she was destined to be too serious at times.   I reckon I might have told her to unpack a little more of her dreams rather than feel obligated under the ‘oughts’ and the ‘shoulds’.  Perhaps I would tell her to not be so darn responsible and let others take on more responsibility for themselves.   And then I wonder…would I say anything at all?

    Sure, there are things I wished I had done differently.  But the more I reflect on the life I have lived since that year, I reckon I did the best I could. As much as I had hopes for more and at times a different life, there are people I would never have met had I lived another life. I count amongst some of my closest friends three girls I met at university.  Neither, could I imagine life without the two beautiful young adults my husband and I are blessed to call our children. 

    I have definitely lost my youth in the years since I graduated from high school. I have also lost my parents.  I feel as if I am not the same person I was back then but then…maybe I am if I pause awhile.  Every now again, as I recall my story and as I consider my dreams I catch a glimpse of the same girl that was once sixteen and before she graduated from high school.  Reconnecting with friends from another time has reflected back to me a little more of the Angela who was before the responsibilities of the grown- up world crowded in. 

    I am thankful for the opportunity to reflect on that this weekend, as I reconnect not only with old school mates but also with a part of myself that was tucked away along with memories from the past.  One thing I know for sure is that I no longer have regrets and have much to be thankful for.   This is especially true, as I now journey with a loving God who is able to redeem all of my past and use it for good and his glory. 

  • Friendship and Singapore Slings

    Friendship and Singapore Slings

    Earlier this year, in view of some personal challenges a friend suggested a little holiday might be good for the soul.  With surprising spontaneity on my behalf, we hopped on a plane and visited some mutual friends in Singapore. 

    With no expectations but plenty of guidance, we set out to experience this modern city with its unique ethnic tapestry. My choice, which seems the antithesis of the prior description, was the Raffles Hotel; for no other reason, except it is a famous landmark of the colonial era and it conjured memories of a bygone era I had read about only in books. 

    As one who loves good food and beverages, the experience required more than a few photos.  We both agreed that we must enjoy the famous Singapore Sling; even if it was 10.30am.  After all, we were ladies and this drink was originally created to allow ladies to enjoy alcohol in public. Made with gin, cherry brandy, Cointreau, Benedictine and a dash of bitters, this ladies cocktail is shaken over ice with non-alcoholic pineapple juice, lime juice and grenadine. It packed quite a punch in the warmth of Singapore’s February humidity as we sat on a crowded veranda overlooking the hotel’s courtyard. (We had chosen to visit the very day the Long Bar was closed for extended renovations.) We nearly choked on the price of the drink as we had just come from Phuket and cheap Mai Tais at happy hour.  We conceded to eat a very modest plate of ‘buffalo wings’ to absorb some of the alcohol rather than something else from the highly priced menu.  That meant we giggled and wobbled a bit in the noonday sun as we wandered outside to enjoy some more of Singapore’s city. 

    I can relate to Bill Murray who said “Friendship is so weird. You just pick a human you met and you’re like ‘yup, I like this one’ and you just do stuff with them.”  I am very grateful for my friends who like to do stuff with me; including one very special friend who liked me enough to drink cocktails for morning tea. 

  • Neither rich nor poor; but a good father

    Neither rich nor poor; but a good father

    Happy Father’s Day to my Daddy in heaven. 

    I am the first born of his four children. I was born in his thirty-second year.  During his adult life he was a farmer, a bricklayer and a security guard.  For forty-seven years he was my father.   

    My dad was born between two world wars and soon after the Great Depression.  He was the fourth child and the only son of Herman and Gertrude; both of German Lutheran descent from Australia’s south.  He was also born left handed. That was soon beaten out of him at school. 

    Times were tough for most Australians and especially for my father’s family in the 1930s and 40s. His parents did not own land, although extended family did.  Land would come later when they moved to Queensland in his teens. His father gained work wherever he could and the family moved often.  His most memorable childhood Christmas was when each of the five children received a gift of a new comb and a violet crumble. 

    In Dad’s notes for his funeral, he listed his favourite Bible verse as Proverbs 30:8 “Keep me from lying, and let me be neither rich nor poor.” By contemporary standards, Dad did not die a wealthy man.  He was neither rich nor poor.  One of his proudest achievements was purchasing and owning, without debt the family home on acreage.  It mattered a lot to him to bequeath that to his son; something his own father was unable to do for him. 

    Dad was always careful with money and budgeted well.  He was a man of modest means with creative and entrepreneurial sidelines.  He was from an era where little was dumped and much was recycled.  This was especially evident in his shed, where old machinery was pulled apart and spare parts stored.  As a child, I would laugh that my father must be the only one who came back from the rubbish dump with as much as he took.

    Dad never struck me as an ambitious man, but he did have an optimistic outlook with many personal goals and hobbies.  Right up to the year he died at 79 years of age, he was still planting trees and planning his next holiday.  Only months earlier my sister and I had travelled to China with him. 

    As I reflect on his life; a somewhat ordinary life, I remember a loving father (and father in law, grandfather and great grandfather) who always had time for his family. Whilst he did not have much money to spare, he always had home grown produce to share and some ‘treasure’ in his shed that enabled him to create or fix something for one of his family. 

    I agree with Billy Graham “A good father is one of the most unsung, unpraised, unnoticed and yet one of the most valuable assets in our society.”  Thanks Dad for being a good father.

  • How strong is your inner core?

    How strong is your inner core?

    “Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and struggle.” Napoleon Hill. 

    I have come to the conclusion that I will never have sexy six pack abs.  Seriously though, as I am getting older. I am satisfied to build and maintain strength; especially my inner core strength. The latter involves muscles I cannot even see; but they make a huge difference to daily life.  These muscles significantly impact my everyday balance, agility, stability and aid in the prevention of injury.  All of which I have taken for granted in my youth. 

    It occurred to me that my spiritual and emotional inner strength might benefit from the same attention I have given my physical core strength training. I am challenged that perhaps my routine in these areas have been more like bingeing than a regular, disciplined approach.  I am always amazed to discover new muscles in need of strengthening every six weeks when the personal trainer alters my programme.  Why not be as intentional and include variety in other areas of my life?

    This week I have been thinking a lot about changes to my routine that will benefit my spiritual and emotional inner strength whilst being sustainable.  As a Christian who places a high priority on reading the Bible, I decided to challenge myself to read through the Bible in a year. I also feel to challenge my gratitude and thankful muscles by disciplining myself to write in a gratitude journal.  Apparently, this exercise will build my emotional and mental strength. 

    As Napoleon Hill reminds us, it is continuous effort and struggle that builds strength and brings growth.  Life has a way of bringing challenges that provide opportunity to test and grow muscle; physical, spiritual and mental/emotional.  Like any challenge, prior training assists in preventing injuries as well as providing balance, agility and stability for completing the course.  Whilst we cannot prepare for every situation, we can prepare our core strength so we thrive and not just survive the journey. 

    Whilst my intentions are good, my flesh is quite weak.  That is why I have needed the support and encouragement of a personal trainer and class instructor from time to time.  My membership at the gym has also been a motivating factor to keep me committed.  Last time I had an assessment, I swear my trainer was more excited than I was with my results.

    Emotionally and mentally I have benefited the most from a professional supervisor and mentors who have challenged and coached me for growth and resilience.  Spiritually, I have been enriched by the warm fellowship of other Christians meeting to study the Bible and pray together.  And most of all, my real inner strength comes from my relationship with Jesus.

    The good news is we do not have to struggle and sweat for our spiritual inner strength.  We have a supernatural helper in Christ Jesus.  Through His Spirit we can be strengthened.  It is not by brute strength but a glorious inner strength available if we open the door and invite him in.  (The Message Ephesians 3:16)

    How strong is your inner core?  What will you do this week to ensure you have balance, agility, stability and protection from injury for every day life?  Will you turn to Jesus for the glorious inner strength he offers?  Shalom. 

    Photo by Stijn Swinnen on Unsplash

  • Finishing the race

    Finishing the race

    I completed my first ever ‘fun run’ this morning.  Actually, I walked it; and for that matter not a lot of it was fun!  I kept up enough pace to finish the 8-kilometres just shy of an hour and a half.  I am satisfied to have simply finished the race.

    The Bible talks a lot about our life being like a race.  One verse in Hebrews (12:1) emphasises some of the qualities of any race.  There are those who have gone before us that have finished the race; the witness of the veterans who cheer us on.  There is also a necessity to strip down to essentials and all that hinders us before starting. It is then with perseverance that we finish the race marked out for us. 

    Francis of Assisi says “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible. And suddenly, you are doing the impossible.”  Today was a bit like that.  My first step was to register, the next to get myself at the starting line early this morning and then the next step was to simply start by putting one foot in front of the other.  My only goal was to finish the race before I got kicked off the course.  I finished sooner than I thought I would.  If you had told me I would make that time yesterday, I would have thought that was impossible.

    My understanding of any race, and especially the particularly challenging marathons is that the qualities of comradeship, dedication and perseverance are embodied therein.  Today’s fun walk for me was enriched by my companions; my son and his fiance who started the footrace with me and also those I knew who cheered me on from the sidelines. At times, I was spurred on to maintain my pace simply because others were ahead on the course.

    My heart has been heavy this week for those who are struggling to run-or even walk, their life’s race.  Some have been running hard but cannot go any further because they have broken down. Some are close to falling out because of exhaustion.  Others have lagged at the start and seem to have made no progress at all.  I hurt for those that have been sabotaged by others.   I just want to cheer them on and say keep going; one step at a time; just hang in there!  

    Verse 2 of Hebrews 12 encourages us to keep our eyes on Jesus- the pioneer and perfecter of faith. He endured opposition and yet finished. We must not grow weary and lose heart.  At times, our life’s race is tough and there seems to be more hills than flat straights.  I am glad that Jesus and many saints before us have completed their race.

    I love the way the Message Bible puts it “When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he (Jesus) ploughed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!” 

    This morning’s fun run has put a shot of adrenaline into my body- and my soul. I hope that you too may find a shot of adrenaline for your soul this week to persevere with joy the course set before you. 

  • Grieving hopes lost

    Grieving hopes lost

    For most of my life I have had ‘hopes’ for a life that was often better than the life I lived. As long as I had many years left to live and I had my ‘hopes’- whether realised or not, I had hope. 
    At my last milestone birthday I realised I had lived more years than I had left. I was overcome with grief at ‘hopes’ that were now lost. 

    I have lost loved ones and with them hopes I had for them and hopes with them. I have lost hopes I had for me and that has made me stumble and feel like I have also lost hope.

    I have realised it is important for me to weep for the hopes of my heart- whether lost or never had. With God, I need not lose HOPE but I may need to grieve HOPES lost. What I have left is my life today. 
    I will still have hopes in my years remaining even though some of them may not eventuate. I am glad though that I need never lose hope, as long as I love and am loved by God. For love, faith and HOPE-our blessed hope in the Son of God will last forever. (1 Corinthians 13:13) And I can trust that he has good things for me both now and ‘ever.

    John Piper says “Occasionally, weep deeply over the life you hoped for. Then, wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have. “

    It is good to visit grief but not good to get stuck there. Perhaps like me, after you have wept deeply, it’s time to wash your face, trust God and embrace the life you have now. 

    photo by Tom Eversley @ Unsplash

    John Piper quote http://www.desiringgod.org/embrace-the-life-god-has-given-you

  • The Humble Hen- the Extra in My Story

    The Humble Hen- the Extra in My Story

    For most of my life the humble garden-variety chook has been a supporting actor-or an extra in our family’s story and my story. The hen has provided us with eggs (and in my childhood-meat), affection, therapy and some funny moments. 

    My earliest chook memory involved my little brother who was very indignant, and chasing a chook around the family’s backyard. She had swallowed his tooth- and with it the anticipated windfall from the tooth fairy.

    Hens have always eaten our family’s kitchen scraps.  This was our practice way before it was prudent to consider what you did with your green waste and considered the environment.

    When our children were in primary school, they won a day-old chick in a fete raffle. We kept  “Chickee” and put her on the lawn during the day in a little mesh and timber cage- loaned by Granddad. At night, we brought her in and kept her in a box in the laundry.  It was not long before the fluffy yellow chick turned into an auburn pullet.  The cardboard box could not contain her, so we had to find her a new home. Granddad adopted her and found her a permanent perch in his chicken coop.

    The telling moment was when I woke up late one night to realise my husband was not yet in bed and the television was still blaring.  I found “Chickee” out of her box, on the couch and nestled in the crook of his warm sleeping body.  When she moved to Granddad’s, she soon transferred her affections to him.  He would often have to scoop her off the top of his ‘fridge on his back deck and return her to the coop. 

    “Mrs Chook” was our last hen. We have been moving about this year and she was the last girl on the perch.  All the others had died separately from old age and we had not thought to replace them.  We eventually gave her away to another family who now enjoy her cuddles and eggs. 

    She too was affectionate and there was a telling moment.  She had taken to perching on our back deck rather than returning to the hen palace at night.  I did not mind hosing her poo off the back deck but I soon did mind, when in our new home she perched on the cars in the driveway and on the carpeted front entry’s handrail. It was okay when her cloaca faced the garden but not when it faced the door.  Unbelievable how much fertiliser one chook can deposit in a night.   

    I miss not talking to my ‘girls’ in the morning.  There’s something enjoyable about wandering out to the backyard to be met by hungry and warbling, happy hens.  I would often stumble out with sleep still in my eyes and with recycled food scraps and grain in my hands.  When mowing the backyard they would chase me and the lawnmower to catch any dislodged insects from the freshly cut grass. I confess it’s rather nice to have company like that.

    Equally satisfying is eating a poached, fresh egg that sits pertly on the breakfast plate with its saffron yolk.  It did not seem quite so wasteful to dispose of the yolks when making a wicked pavlova with whites, when the fridge was full of backyard eggs.  It does feel wicked nowadays though; as I scrape our food scraps into the rubbish bin.

    The chicken coup and hen’s palace currently lay vacant. Instead of hens to feed in the morning I am now picking tomatoes. We have an abundant crop of cherry tomatoes that have sprung up from the mixture of chicken poo and food scraps.

    Thank-you “Mrs Chook” -and “Chickee”,  for your part in my story. You are very humble and your role may have been minor, but your presence brought much joy. Next time around I might be a bit more creative with names though!

     

  • A matter of perspective

    A matter of perspective

    At a recent meeting, I spent over half an hour listing off my qualifications, my roles and my interests to provide my background story. The person I was meeting with then asked me a question that required an answer from a different perspective.  On a full page of preparatory notes filled with dot points, I had recorded only three lines that helped me answer this question.  The question he asked was something like “What has God been doing in your life?”  At first, I was overcome with emotion and felt quite vulnerable to share that which was deeply personal. It was not something I usually talked about when discussing my business and career goals, even though we were both Christians. It got me thinking though…    

    Is there more than one way to frame my life’s journey and tell my story? What if my particular way of recalling my life needs to change or at least be broadened? Perhaps it’s time I focused on a different perspective.

    A number of themes have started to emerge as I have been looking back and telling my story. I have been convicted that perhaps I have been focusing a little too much on as single perspective .  What would my story be if I asked different questions of myself and my life? 

    Abe Lincoln is attributed with having said “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”  Have I, I wondered, been looking at the thorns and missing the beauty of the roses in my life?  Instead of asking “Why did this awful thing happen to me?”, what would my story be if I asked myself “How is this the best thing that happened to me?”  Instead of looking at the trials in my life, what would it look like if I looked for God’s providence instead?  Instead of looking at achievements of the ‘head’, what if I looked for achievements of the ‘heart’? 

    I started a journey today going back through some of the scripts I have recorded about my life and have been asking myself different questions.  I still have a way to go and am getting a little excited. As I look past some of the thorns I am beginning to notice some of the roses. 

    This reminds me of an old Indian story I once heard about six blind men who approach an elephant for the first time. These men describe the whole beast deduced from the portion they could feel.  Of course, when one is feeling the trunk, another the tail, another the leg, an ear, the belly and the tusk it is any wonder they could not agree on what an elephant looked like.  The problem is that each one only had a partial view and were describing the whole from their single perspective. 

    I draw comfort from the fact that God can see the whole clearly. I may never know everything that He is doing in my life.  I do know though that He loves me and that in all things He works for good because I love Him. (Romans 8:28)  The Bible talks a lot about being thankful and having gratitude.  I confess that when my perspective is small and certainly in the midst of pain that can be hard to do.  I do not want to grow old recalling only the thorns and missing the roses.  I am committed to recalling and perhaps retelling my story from a different perspective. 

    “It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see.”  Henry David Thoreau.

    Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

  • A week in the slow lane

    A week in the slow lane

    I spent this past week away from home and looking after my adult daughter who had a knee reconstruction on Monday.  The rehabilitation process demands she walks on her injured leg and she started that immediately following surgery.  This means she still walks; but she is slow.

    I laughed with her the first day joking that God had allowed her to snap her ligament so she would slow up and allow her soul catch up with her body.  We both knew that the past few years her pace has been fast.  First the injury and now the necessary surgery has slowed her down.  As her carer that meant that I too had to go slow.   

    Getting out the door from the third-floor apartment, down the three flights of stairs and into my car parked on the street took considerably longer than normal for both of us.  Meeting up with people elsewhere for a coffee or a meal required us to leave much earlier to allow time for her to walk slowly.  There was no point in being impatient. In fact, impatience could undo all the good work of surgery and healing. Being pushed in a wheelchair or taking off on crutches was not an option either as her healing depends on her using her muscles and walking; just slowly.

    I love spending time with my daughter so visiting the local coffee shop recently opened by friends of hers was no chore. There was no popping in for a quick coffee however. The sheer effort of getting there and back as well as the luxury of her being on medical leave, meant we could linger.  There is something special about lingering over a good coffee with friends; sprawled out on cushioned seating, leaning against the wall awash in the morning light and its warmth.  Even now I remember the scene as if the slower pace permitted the enjoyment of the experience to permeate my soul.

    This slower pace necessitated setting priorities for each day. There was no way we could schedule multiple outings and had to be content with a slower pace.  Even my exercise this week seemed to reinforce the message to slow down.  I took the opportunity to use my daughter’s membership and attended two classes of ‘Hot Pilates’. While the exercise includes moments of high intensity it is balanced out with intentional deep breathing and stretching. 

    As I write this, I recall a book I purchased many years ago. Carl Honor wrote “In Praise of Slowness” in which he challenges the cult of speed, our addiction to speed and our obsession to do everything so quickly.  I acknowledge that I have been guilty of the same love affair with efficiency and speed.

    I have also lifted down from the bookshelf another book by a Christian author Richard J. Foster called “Finding Harmony in a Complex World: Freedom of Simplicity.”  I am drawn to the potential of a life in unhurried peace and power. 

    My one week in the slow lane has given me food for thought.  Perhaps it is time to reread these books and put into practice some of the suggestions.  This week has hinted at a life with depth, deep breathing and unhurried experiences.  Maybe it’s time to start a love affair with slowness and simplicity as well as minimalism.   

    “Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it”. Soren Kierkegaard.

    Photo by SnapbyThree MY on Unsplash

  • Decluttering my world

    Decluttering my world

    Working towards my goal of minimising my possessions, this week I emptied my craft and sewing cupboard. I heard somewhere that one of the guidelines to reducing or minimising your possessions is to ask yourself if you have used the item in the past nine months or plan to use it in the next nine months.  Using this guideline, boxes and boxes of fabrics had to go.  Fortunately, I had previously boxed everything up to tidy up the cupboards. I say fortunately because if I knew everything that was in those boxes, I may not have parted with it so easily. I started to go through one box and was tempted to pull out bits and pieces I was fond of or thought were beautiful.  I slammed the lid back down and marched it all out to my car and sent a message to the woman I planned to give it to.

    I could not believe how much I struggled to emotionally part with this stuff.  It was a reminder to me of a lovely season in my life when as a Home Economics teacher, I taught units on textiles and embellishment to teenage girls.  It was a reminder to me of a season in my life when I enjoyed making aprons from pretty craft fabrics. It reminded me how I found solace in creativity when mum was dying.  I remember my ‘artist dates’ and how much I enjoyed choosing the fabrics and my delight at the fabric’s colours and patterns.  I started to rethink my decision and wondered if I might start creating with textiles again. Then I stopped.  I had not touched an item in those boxes for over two years. If I was completely honest I did not love textiles as much as I loved baking and my boxes were also full of unfinished projects. And even more so, I could not carry on with the things I believed that this season asked of me as well as start sewing again.  So, in spite of a surprising sense of grief I slammed the car boot shut and delivered everything to the woman I promised it to.

    I heard a message from a visiting Christian speaker recently that reminded me my inner world might need some decluttering too.  There are memories and experiences from my past; both good and bad, that may be holding me back from the things I believe that this season is asking of me.  Some of that inner world has already been packed in little boxes. At least I have sifted and contained some of the clutter. But, I have another step I must take and that it is to finally let go.  I am not advocating living in denial or pretence, but rather handing those boxes over to a loving God and trusting Him with the contents. I am not sure which boxes are going and which are to stay, but I do know hoarding boxes are both weighty and distracting. Minimising my inner world is necessary. 

    As I pause to reflect I realise that some of my boxes represent unrealised dreams, broken relationships and seasons that have ended. As my sewing boxes highlight, my outer world’s stuff is intertwined with my inner world.  As difficult as it is to let these go, it is necessary to lighten the load so I may move forward and into a new season. 

    How about you? Do you have clutter in your life: outer or inner? Have you done any sorting or sifting at all? How are you going with letting go of those boxes?