When I was fifteen I had to go away to school. From Monday to Friday I stayed with a family in a nearby town, coming home for the weekends. Arriving home each Friday afternoon, I would stand at the end of the kitchen bench while my mother worked on dinner preparation, rattling on and on about anything and everything that popped into my head. She never asked me to stop. We’d missed each other and it was catch-up time. Separation is sometimes difficult.

On the completion of my study, I was posted to a small country town where I knew no one. This time I had even more to miss. In addition to my family and friends, I missed my soon-to-be-husband. I missed everything about him. Oh how I missed him! It was a painful separation!

Some years later, just a few short months after our first daughter arrived, our little family found itself in a new city, once again far away from loved ones. It was a very difficult time. There was so much we wanted to share with people back home. We wanted them to see our little girl’s progress, to hold her and tell us how wonderful she was, to share in our joy. I wanted to hear my Mum say that the sleepless nights and our baby’s teething rattiness wouldn't last forever! I yearned to sit with her and swap baby stories, to find out what kind of baby I had been. I needed advice in the new, sometimes scary role that engulfed every minute of my day and my night. 

My husband left early each work day and often arrived home after dinner when our little girl was already tucked up in bed. They were lonely days. Before the internet and mobile phones, we survived on a flood of letters from home and the occasional phone call. In my lonesome, quiet hours I wrote literally hundreds of letters to family and friends. Penning the letters gave me an artificial sense of closeness but it evaporated when I signed off, much like it did at the close of phone calls from home. Sometimes separation is really hard!

Fast forward to 2014. This afternoon, just three days to Christmas ...

I joined the threads of people leaving the shopping centre. As the big doors closed behind me and I headed in the direction of my car, I sensed a small voice whispering, “Don’t forget what this is all about.” Walking across the parking area, ingredients for more Christmas cooking hanging from each hand, I had something akin to a little watershed.

I started to think what it must have been like for the God of the universe, to willingly let the only Son He had, leave home and go to live in a foreign place among foreign people. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like. They’d never experienced that kind of separation.

Years ago I experienced first-hand the ache that comes when you are separated from those you love. The cute little image of a baby in a manger belies the reality of what was really involved in that humble stable. A Father and Son were no longer living together as they had, since before the beginning of time. As He looked down at the babe in the manger, I wondered if God ached for His Son.

It was a separation born out of love, love for those this baby came to live among. In a sense Father and Son were separated for a time because of a love that is far too great to get my head around.

The baby in the manger didn't just mark the beginning of a separation though, it was also the demonstration of a promised reunion, the greatest reunion of all time, a reunion that happens when we choose to take up the gift that was offered on that very first Christmas!

At the end of 2012, our oldest daughter found out she was pregnant. After many years of waiting, a grandchild at last – our very first! We were all ecstatic beyond words! However, as is common these days, the news wasn't to be made public until after the 3 month scan. I thought I would pop! I couldn't wait to tell my friends… and anyone else who’d care to listen!

We eagerly awaited the scan day, which happened to coincide with me having coffee with an old friend, (she’s actually not that old) just days before school went back for the new year. I had waited 8 weeks for this day, so I asked Kristen to call me as soon as the scan was complete. My friend would be the first to know!

Sitting looking out over the ocean, enjoying coffee and a catch-up, I remember it vividly, as if it happened only yesterday, like a moment frozen in time. I recall my phone ringing and the almost explosive excitement as I answered the call. I remember too, the flat tone in my daughter’s voice, the heart-stopping feeling of rising apprehension and panic as she spoke. “I've had the scan Mum, and it seems there may be a problem with the baby.” She went on to explain the spinal cavity measurements were very abnormal and cause for significant concern, so they were sending her off for blood tests.

The next afternoon my husband and I took another call from her, they had the results of the blood tests and they confirmed the very real possibility the bub would be born with a chromosomal syndrome called Trisomy 13, a condition associated with severe intellectual disability and physical abnormalities in many parts of the body. Due to the severity of the abnormalities, few babies live more than a days or weeks after birth and only 5-10% live past one year.

As you can imagine we were devastated: devastated for our daughter and son-in-law, for ourselves, for our family and for the little bub! I can’t adequately describe the hours after the call. Our daughter and son-in-law needed time alone together, to process the news, and this meant we couldn't even hug our girl and cry with her. That was hard and it was lonely too.

I talk to God often but especially in difficult and trying times. I ask Him for help and I ask for wisdom, and I often experience these in a tangible way. However this time I felt like I couldn't pray, besides I didn't know what to pray.

On the second day after receiving the news, I had a remarkable experience – another moment that seems frozen in time. It was a hot Sunday afternoon and I was lying on the bed, tired but unable to sleep. I remember talking with God, telling Him how I felt and telling Him I didn't know what to pray.

This bit is hard to describe, but I felt as though God’s instant reply was, “Pray for a whole and healthy baby.” Those exact words….so I did.

I'm going to share a little of my journey over the weeks that followed, and although it’s hard to put it into words, I’ll do my best.

A few days later, on the Monday, I was feeling pretty low, perhaps still a little numb. I was sitting at the table reading, when, for want of a better way of describing it, words came charging over those written on the page and indeed over my thinking. There’s no other way to describe it. I wasn't thinking music, lyrics or anything other than what I was reading. The words that came charging in, were, “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” I knew the words well because they are from a very old hymn that I love, called ‘Great Is Thy Faithfulness’, written in the first part of last century.

This is the part I really have difficulty describing. At that moment, sitting at our table with my cup of tea in front of me, it felt as though the God of the universe had reached down and lifted me out of a dark, sad place. I felt no sadness, only hope, the most incredible experience … and just the beginning too!

For the rest of that day, without invitation, I found myself singing or whistling the hymn. It was stuck in my head, like a cracked record. It was an amazing day and I couldn't believe the way I felt. It was as though yesterday I had been in the depths of Winter and now I was basking in the warmth and beauty of Spring, with all its hope; hope of new beginnings and of new life. I’d never experienced anything quite like it before and I had trouble getting my head around it!

I find God often ‘talks’ to me through words I read in the Bible. The very next day I was reading a verse in the middle the Bible. It finished like this, 'Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.’ I was more than a wee bit taken aback by the exact same words at the end of the verse, exactly the same as those from the previous morning.

I like to write about important events in my life so that day I began journaling.

The very next day, while reading my Bible, these words fairly jumped out at me…“Write this down for the next generation so that people not yet born will praise God.” I was blown away! An unlikely event, but it seemed I was one step ahead on that one. J

I was beginning to feel as though God was walking every step of every day with me, telling me what I needed to hear, daily reassuring me He was with me and He understood how I felt. Walking with Him was making a powerful difference to my journey! I felt like something inside of me had shifted, I'd been given wings and I was flying above the uncertainty. I’d been given the precious gift of hope.

Over the coming days, again and again, I read verses that indicated God knew exactly how I felt and what I was thinking. He answered my questions and He reassured me often that He was doing the journey with me. It was huge and it was life changing!

Time and time again the words I read seemed written just for me, and they fed a growing hope. Words like, “God is gracious – it is He who makes things right, our most compassionate God. God takes the side of the helpless.” 

Some days later our youngest daughter rang. She told me she believed the baby was going to be fine and she shared this verse with me,‘…all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe – people and things, animals and atoms – get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies…’  

As you can imagine, I was talking to God often in those uncertain days. I began to feel a growing sense that He telling me the baby would be born whole and healthy. However there was a shadow across my thinking. I was concerned that I might be putting my own spin on the words I was reading, that I wanted so badly for this baby to be born well and whole, that I was reading something into the words. So one morning as I talked to God I told Him that too. Within minutes I read this in Psalms, ‘Remember what you said to me, your servant – I hang on those words for dear life! These words hold me up in bad times; yes your promises rejuvenate me…I don’t budge from your revelation.’

To cut a very long story short, almost four long weeks after the very first scan, and after a sample of the placenta had been taken, our daughter rang to say the results revealed no evidence of abnormality.

No words can convey my emotions when I read these words a few hours later, so I'm not even going to try to craft some clever description! Suffice to say that when I read them, I cried!

‘ All you who fear God, how blessed you are. Enjoy the blessing, revel in the goodness!

...The children around your table as fresh and promising as young olive shoots.

Stand in awe of God’s “Yes”.  Oh how He blesses the one who fears God. Enjoy the good life…enjoy your grandchildren.’ 

…and we have done just that!

Five months later Jackson Charlie was born, and he was perfection!

We now have two adorable little grandsons, and they bring us such joy!

Jackson Charlie, just a few days old

Now more than a year old...
and almost always wearing a smile!

                                                     

                                                       ...and

our newest little grandson, Harper.

I'm surprised how often I learn or am reminded of something important when I spend time in my garden. My thoughts often wander when I'm doing things like weeding, and that’s what happened the other day. As I pulled one weed after another, I realised just how many there were … so, so many! What’s worse, even though I pulled them all, new ones will take their place within days. No garden stays weed-free. We have to keep at it.

It’s crazy, I nurture and care for my special plants - the ones I paid for, was given or perhaps grew from seed. I water them regularly, feed them, sometimes I even train them or stake them. However unlike my special plants, weeds in my garden receive no special treatment…but they thrive! They are often the finest specimens in a garden bed; the greenest, the healthiest and sometimes even the tallest! I won’t lie, that really annoys me! It seems so unfair!

Even as I removed those unwelcome tenants from my front garden the other day, I realised we can learn something from them, something I need to keep reminding myself of…over and over.

Have you ever noticed the negative aspects of our personality take root, grow and ever thrive without any care or cultivation? On the other hand, our positive habits and attributes often need attention and nurture in order to thrive and grow. It’s strange isn't it?

When our girls were little ones, we spent a good deal of time encouraging the positive and discouraging the negative aspects of their behaviour, sometimes having to employ quite drastic measures! I remember once when our two oldest girls had done something very wrong, their father sent them to bed with crusts of bread instead of the healthy meal I’d prepared for them! I cried….but it proved to be wisdom. That drastic measure served as helpful discouragement and they never did it again.

Our oldest grandson, like many other little boys his age, doesn't seem to need any encouragement to occasionally try his hand at wrong-doing or disobedience. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very good little man, but I've noticed we don’t need to explain or show him how to do wrong. It seems to come quite naturally.

It’s true to say every child is different in his or her inclination towards wrong-doing, but it’s also interesting to note that one of the first words most children speak, is the word, “No”. Our bent towards wrong seems hard-wired into us.

I wonder if you can see where I'm going with this.

Like the weeds in my garden, the negative, undesirable aspects of my thinking and actions will thrive unless I invest time and energy on their removal, and it seems when I ‘pull’ one, another often appears. It’s a constant task that I mustn't neglect or things can get ugly.

I often quote from a book that has stood the test of time, because it offers wisdom for people of all ages and circumstances. I found some really good advice and it reads like this… 

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.”

Actions follow thinking, so it stands to reason our thinking is pretty important, and we should be nurturing the kind of thinking that leads to the actions we know are right and good. I need to remind myself often, to be watering and feeding the kind of thinking that is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy, and if I do, all those around me benefit and so do I.

After a recent storm, I was sad to discover the wind had brought down a lemon-laden branch.  It had very literally been torn from the tree and lay limp among a carpet of storm debris on the ground. The trunk bore the scar: a long white strip peeled from its living layer, evidence of the missing limb, and a hole in the foliage left the tree looking a little lopsided. I was sad!

Cutting the ripe lemons from the branch, I brought them inside, and having no immediate need for them, they went in the pantry. There they stayed for several weeks, in fact long after the vandalous act of nature was forgotten.

This evening we’re having guests and I decided a lemon soufflé would be a nice addition to the dinner menu. Out came the flour, the sugar, the eggs, some milk, a little butter and then... the main ingredient…a very large lemon from my pantry, large enough to take the place of the two needed in the recipe.

Cooking a well-known recipe gives me time to think, and this morning as I mixed and folded, my thoughts drifted to the enormous lemon, the fruit of the storm.  How wonderful that the storm's carnage need not be wasted, instead the main ingredient in something wonderful!

We all encounter ‘storms’ from time to time, and I remembered a storm that came my way a year or two ago. Actually it felt a little more like a hurricane at the time! Looking back, I recalled talking to God very often during those difficult days. I also remembered asking Him to help me not to waste the experience, to help me learn something valuable from it. At the time it seemed a strange ask but I didn't want the pain to be fruitless.

Looking back, I can see I learned many things from those difficult days, and I am grateful!

That day after the storm there didn't seem any immediate use for the lemons. It seemed a waste. However in time, one large lemon became an essential ingredient in something wonderful.

I wonder if it’s easier to bear difficulties and pain if we feel the trials have some ultimate purpose. That’s not to say they are caused for a purpose. However, if they bear fruit, they are not wasted, and something good comes from the pain.

I'm very much looking forward to the good that has come from the storm we encountered a few weeks ago, and tonight I know I'm going to especially enjoy the delicious lemon flavour of the soufflé!

My posts usually grow from a seed of an idea.

Today I had a seed of an idea and in more ways than one.

You've probably noted I love my garden. I don’t always have the time to keep it looking the way I’d like, but it’s a place I feel I can make a difference, a place where I can be fruitful, where I can unwind and it’s also a place of inspiration for me. I learn lots from my garden.

At the end of each season, I often let a couple of plants go to seed so I have seeds for next year. This morning I harvested a handful of pods from the last straggly bean plants. Beans don’t like the cold but they soldiered on long enough to produce some lovely plump, white, shiny seeds for next Spring.

That seed of an idea emerged as I freed the little kernels of invisible life from their dry, withered shells.

Having had two grandsons arrive in the past year, it isn't any surprise that my idle thoughts often turn to the early stages of life. Lying in the palm of my hand, those little white seeds reminded me once more of life beginnings.

I marvelled as I tumbled the seeds backwards and forwards across my palm. They contain the essence of life, and given the right opportunity and the right ingredients, they’ll prove it. Inside each, is potential life - the potential for growth to maturity, for production of pods, and in turn seeds. I find that quite awesome!

We can learn from the simplest things.

This morning, I was reminded again of something I've believed for a long time: that I was made with all the necessary building blocks to carry out a life purposed even before I arrived in this world.

I don’t believe my birth was an accident or that my life is a series of accidents. I believe I am here by design and there’s also a design for my life’s journey. That’s pretty wonderful and pretty scary at the same time.

It’s amazing to think I was ‘thought up’ by a creator, a whole lot more preferable than the notion I was an accident! It’s also pretty amazing to think I was put together with the gifts and abilities to equip me for a life of unique purpose. Then there’s the scary bit…how do I find and how do I know, what that purpose is?

For the bean, it’s very simple. When the little seed goes into the ground, given that it is a suitable environment for growth, it will do what it was designed to do…grow.

We humans are a little different. Our situation may be conducive for growth, it may even be a perfect place to flourish, but sometimes that doesn't happen. I think the difference is our ability for choice. For the most part, we get to choose. Sometimes I choose well, other times I choose badly and when I choose badly, I don’t flourish…sometimes I cease to even grow.

So, if there’s a purpose to my presence here on this planet, it seems logical there must be a plan too. Sadly, no one gave me the plan when I left the hospital with my Mum!

As I grew older, along with being able to make choices, I discovered my Creator also gave me some guidelines, as well as a 24 hour open-line to ask advice. I appreciate the ‘Help Line’ more and more as the years roll by. As I get older (and I hope wiser) I think I'm getting better at using that ‘Help Line’ earlier, not waiting till things become way too difficult to handle. I still need to be reminded to do that though. It’s pretty natural for me, and I suppose most people, to be independent. Don’t get me wrong, independence is great but I also think two heads are usually better than one, especially when one of them was the designer of the universe! I also think that gives me a bit of an edge in decision making!

Getting back to the little bean seed...
If it is planted in a less than ideal place, a place it can’t grow, it will die. It has no alternative. 

I am ever so grateful that if I find myself in a less than ideal situation, which is no rarity, unlike the bean seed, I have access to a 24 hour, seven days a week, twelve months of the year, ‘Help Line’ ... as well as a very old book to guide me on my way.   

Births and deaths tend to draw our thoughts towards life itself and the things that matter.

As I write this, I'm getting updates from a delivery room. The wonders of our modern age make it possible for me to feel as though I'm almost in the room with my daughter as she labours to bring our second little grandson into this world.

Our almost-here little man has decided he’d like to enter this big world a little early so I have inherited the job of sewing up the last few sheets for his little Moses Basket, a job which his Mummy may have been putting off. So my morning has been spent between the sewing machine, the ironing board and my computer. With the house to myself and only the occasional sound of a message coming in, I've had plenty of time to think.

Today is going to be a birth day! I've just received a message to say mummy is ready to ‘push’! That means that perhaps even as I write these words, a new life is beginning! What an amazing thought!!! I wonder if it’s possible to ever get to the stage where you feel you have your head around this miracle. If so, I’m a long way from that point!

As I’ve been stitching this morning, I've pondered the stitching together of this little life over the past thirty eight weeks. What an incredible work of art a new baby is! Such complexities all wrapped up in miniature perfection, and what never ceases to amaze me, is the intricacies of inherited likeness so often already obvious! Creation really is beyond our thinking capabilities!

It’s not really surprising that we can’t get our heads around the process of creation. The One who came up with this idea also put together our universe and I think that sort of sets Him apart!

…It’s now 2 days since our little Harper Joshua arrived and what a little treasure he is… and very little!

I expected to write more in this post but the new little family is staying with us for a few days, and spare minutes are few and very far between. I have therefore decided to post this raw, unpolished and ‘unfinished’. The words are just as they first came to me, on a very special day…a birth day!

It’s been a whole month since I posted and what a busy four weeks they have been! A few days in Sydney then a week in Tasmania, but now we’re home again…and home is nice place to be.

I usually begin a blog with a seed thought. Often words are waiting at the blocks, ready to race across the line when I open a Word document. Inspiration usually comes from a photo, an event or a story but this afternoon it’s a little different.

Everyone knows the phrase, ‘Home is where the heart is’. While I was unpacking the other day that phrase kept popping into my head, a bit the way a song gets stuck in your head. After several hours of pushing it away with no success, I came into my office and typed it at the top of a blank page. There it has sat for four days…

Now here I am at my desk with just my cuppa, the sound of doves cooing quietly outside the window and the little phrase. I have to admit it feels strange though because I'm about to embark on something I've never tried before. I haven’t a clue where this is going. I might even end up meandering off on a bit of a tangent...

***

I think it’s fair to say that home is filled with familiarity, a place that reflects our ‘history’. It’s a place we can relax with no pretence, and just be ourselves.

Having just spent time away from home, I thought I might do a little comparing. It might be interesting to look at ‘home’ and ‘away’. Hahaha, love the little word accident!

Home is mostly fashioned to suit our needs, our likes and dislikes. Things are chosen to complement our lifestyle. Over time we change and so we make changes around us. When we first make a change, we are keenly aware of it but it’s usually short lived. Soon it becomes part of all that’s familiar, sliding into the common place, where we rarely notice it.

On the other hand, when we are away, we see things through wide open eyes. Something about the newness of a place inspires us to take in detail, to delight in tiny things, absorbing our surroundings with all our senses.

Tasmania boasts the most amazing autumn colours! Stopping to admire and take photos, we were often overwhelmed by the beauty. However, for those living in and around this same beauty every day, I suspect it mostly goes unnoticed.

It’s sad when we become so familiar with beauty around us that we no longer see it. It’s even sadder when we become so accustomed to the people around us that we miss their beautiful traits, instead often dwelling on the negative aspects of their personality.

In order to fully appreciate the beauty of Tasmania, we had to stop, to focus and take in detail. It’s probably not a bad little exercise to occasionally stop and really look at those around us, to recall the things that drew us to them in the first place, and if we look carefully, if we really look, those beautiful traits are probably still there, hidden amongst the familiar.  

 

***

Well I certainly strayed a little way from the original thought. Very much a meander. An interesting exercise…

 

 

Sometimes I stop to admire little blooms along my way and other times I pick them and take them home with me! There are times when that tiny bloom isn't yet fully open.

This morning during a phone conversation I picked a tiny bloom in its infancy, yet even as I type, it’s beginning to open. As we chat with someone about a complex issue, we often gain clarity. So too, as I type, clarity often comes. I guess that’s because I need to examine and sift my thoughts, often exploring unsolved or uncomfortable questions. It feels a little like teasing out a knot in my thinking.

During this morning’s phone conversation we talked about the messy parts of a relationship with God. Even as I type that, it sounds a bit wrong, however I think it’s truth. Any relationship has its messy times, or at least I hope it’s that way for others because it’s certainly my reality. The messy times challenge us; things are often confusing, complicated or uncomfortable, sometimes they are downright painful. These times confront what we currently think and believe. If we let them, they nudge or push us to a new place in our thinking. Change is good, it indicates growth.

Just as we grow and change (although in my stage of my life not all the growing and changing is desirable!), healthy relationships are ever-changing. Getting to know the person we’re in relationship with, and understanding them a little better, can lead to a shift in our thinking and this often helps us see the person in a new light and even relate to them differently. I can’t see why it is any different in a relationship with God.

Other relationships that surround us are a varied mix of great, good, not-so-good, challenging and even difficult. It’s the process of travelling through these that helps us learn more about, and better understand each other. 

Tough, trying times test a relationship and can cause it to send its roots deep. I guess that’s what people mean when they say, “We've been friends through thick and thin.” If we can work through the tough times, it often cultivates a new dimension in our relating.

So, getting back to my phone conversation and messy times in our relationship with God - circumstances that challenge our perception, understanding or belief about God, about what He is like and how He connects with us.

An interesting thing happened while I was engrossed in the conversation – an unexpected, uninvited image popped into my head - perhaps one of the ways God ‘speaks’ to us? While I was listening to my friend talk about an event which feels messy for her right now, I ‘saw’ a vivid image of a painter taking daubs of paint and working them on a canvas. I could actually see the colours sitting, pushed up against each other. I didn't see a picture, just colours on a canvas – some dark, some bright. It was only as I teased out the thought, that I realised it literally was a perfect picture of what happens in our life.

Up close a canvas can seem merely a composite of colours and shades but from a more distant perspective a picture emerges. Sometimes further down the road, we get an inkling of the purpose of past life events, we sense they have been instrumental in directing or equipping us for later roles and tasks. However, there are times when we never get to see the reason for the messy aspects of our journey. It’s those times I've been thinking about today.

A very strange contradiction emerged in my thinking; that there are times when messy circumstances actually give us clarity in our relationship with God. They shift our perceptions of Him.

I remembered a time last year when life seemed very messy. The joyful anticipation of our first grandchild’s arrival, with all the associated excitement, was thrown into confusion when tests supported the very real possibility that the little one would be born with severe chromosomal abnormalities.

The five week journey I travelled in my relationship with God, before we received news to the contrary, taught me a lot about who He is and the way He cares and communicates with us, especially in difficult times.

The journey shifted my perception of God, it gave clarity and helped me understand more about Him, and that changed me. I relate differently to Him now because I know Him better. We travelled a difficult road together. During that messy time, I sensed in an almost tangible way, His love and care for me and for our family.

This leads me to believe the messy times have a purpose. Even if we never find out what that purpose is, we need not waste them. If we let them challenge us and move us, we can discover something new and perhaps even exciting in our relationship with God. I bet He loves it when we make that discovery!

                                                      

During a recent expedition I came across some ancient writings. Didn't know I was an explorer? Well I'm not, and that introduction is more than a little misleading, however, it’s not a complete lie. I did stumble across some old writing…my writing, penned more than a decade ago. I’d written about a trip Jeff and I took to Uluru.

Documentaries, photographs and friends' recommendations convinced us it was a place worth visiting. We were told to expect flies, lots of them! However arriving at the airport in the middle of winter, not a single fly greeted us. No doubt the freezing temperatures explained their absence.

My initial impression of the place just didn't seem to match the picture I had conjured in my head. Having heard so much about the heat, the bitterness of the cold surprised me. I’d imagined dry, perhaps even desolate, flat country, bereft of vegetation.

We discovered no documentary, no colourful description and no collection of photographs adequately describes the place! It was not flat as I’d expected, and not totally without vegetation, even though it hadn't rained in months. I remember being surprised just how red the soil was, a striking contrast to the spectacular blue of the sky… and nothing had prepared us for the sheer enormity of The Rock. Standing at its base was a very big experience!

Being avid snappers, we eagerly awaited the sunset and the subsequent sunrise. Although words can’t do it justice, I’ll try to describe the sunset experience.

It was cold, a still cold that doesn't come up and hit you but slowly seeps in. The longer we stood there, the colder we got. Surrounded by quiet, almost reverend voices, people waited. I didn't really know what to expect. I’d seen the famous images of Uluru at sunset and I think I believed the colours were a little exaggerated.

As we stood with our backs to the sun and our expectant faces turned towards The Rock, the most remarkable thing began to happen. The sky slowly took on a richer, more piercing hue of blue, and right before our eyes The Rock slowly illuminated. A breathtaking transformation took place. Its dull blend of grey and brown shifted to more vibrant shades. It seemed The Rock was lit from its centre, and the living red gradually grew in intensity. Standing tall against the magnificent blue of the evening sky, it was a breathtaking sight and a very moving experience!

I stood and watched the evolving spectacle, in absolute awe at this pinnacle of splendour. However it was just as the sun slipped unnoticed behind me that something interesting and quite unexpected happened.

As we stood in the hushed crowd, glancing around me, I noticed every eye was glued on the radiant beauty of The Rock. I'm not sure why, but at that moment I turned to glance at the sunset behind me. What I saw took my breath away; the most spectacular sunset, one that surpassed any I’d ever seen before! The memory of it remains with me still.

I was amazed. I had spent minutes absorbing the beauty of The Rock in all its sunset splendour, and now I was confronted with an even more powerful display. It took me completely by surprise. The sky was splashed with the most vibrant reds, purples, oranges and golds, lighting the clouds with luminous edging. It was breathtaking!

Enchanted with the Rock’s beauty, I had been totally unaware of the very source of its beauty. If I had remained with my face towards The Rock I would have missed it altogether. Right there at that moment I remember being struck by a powerful parallel. Standing at Uluru’s vast base, I felt the greatness of the place, of the sunset, and my thoughts turned to God. It’s hard to be surrounded by such magnificence and greatness without being moved, without pondering its origin. That was certainly my experience.

Recalling it now, I realise how easy it is to miss the source of the many amazing things in our world - the miracle of birth, the sparkling beauty of a new morning, sun on bejewelled leaves after rain and the form of a tiny baby’s hand.

We can be so taken by the beauty that we completely miss or perhaps forget to acknowledge their source. An old book that has stood the test of time, puts it like this, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

Greater than the created beauty…is the Creator of the beauty.

Something interesting happened to me a few weeks ago. I smile even now as I recall it. Out walking in an old pair of white shorts, I realised the elastic in them had seen better days. I was sad. They were cool, comfortable and best of all, needed no ironing after a wash. Soon, very soon, they would need replacing.

Shortly afterwards I was driving near my local op shop and decided to stop in and see if I could pick up a bargain or two. I love bargains but I especially love op shops! The whole concept resonates with me - something discarded by one can be valued by another.

As I turned the car into the car park I remembered my white shorts and without much thought, said aloud, “God, what I need is another pair of white shorts, just like the pair that’s dying.” Now, I wasn’t using ‘God’ in the way the word is often used today. I was actually telling God something, chatting with Him, if you like. It wasn’t a serious, ‘I need’ kind of request, just a passing comment... and then I didn’t think any more about it.

Inside the shop, I was thrilled when I found a beautifully made pair of leather boots for our soon-to-be-toddler grandson. Then as I wandered the clothing aisles, my eyes lighted on a pair of shorts and I remembered my earlier comment.

As I took them down from the rack, I could scarcely believe my eyes. These were not just any pair of shorts. They were white and they were made of the exact same wash-and-wear material as my old ones! A fitting length for a lady whose legs no longer deserve exhibition, I couldn’t help smiling at the engaging ‘coincidence’.

Even though the tag had been cut off the band, and even before I headed in the direction of the change rooms, I just knew they would fit me perfectly! God heard my words because He always hears, even passing comments, and this time He answered “Yes” to an unimportant, incidental request. 

To me that day, His “Yes” spoke volumes. It seems to me that He cares about even the smallest details of our lives because He likes us a lot! He made us and He likes us! I like my new shorts too and they walk with me often. Even better than their predecessors, they’re lined! It’s so like God to go over and above what we ask or think.

I love humour and I love to laugh! Anything from a private smile or a quiet chuckle to the kind of laughter I have no control over. It reminds me I’m alive, often shifting my perspective and splashing joy in my day.

On my way to a friend’s house recently, I enjoyed a little chuckle. As I rounded the corner leading out of our suburb, I saw a man and his dog. I’ll try to describe exactly what I saw so it seems a little more worthy of a chuckle.

The man was a little younger than me, and as I slowed, I had time to take in the full detail of what he wore. A pair of baggy, faded, seen-a-better-day pair of shorts and a matching tee shirt - not matching in colour, more matching in age and state of disrepair! A tatty hat and a pair of old thongs finished off the far-from-perfect outfit. In the millisecond before I noticed anything else, I was already smiling and what I noticed next, gave wings to my chuckle.

The man’s hands were swinging loosely by his side, totally free of the dog’s lead which appeared to be attached to some hidden part of his shorts. To begin with I wasn’t quite sure why I was chuckling but something about this man and his dog, struck a chord.

As I continued my drive, I thought about the picture which was now etched in my mind. The man looked the epitome of laziness! Everything about him and the way he walked screamed, “I’m not using an ounce more energy than I have to today.” One could assume he was a lazy person but perhaps that wouldn't be fair. On any other day he may be a conscientious, hard working man, but today he was having a lazy day. It seemed he didn't even want to walk the dog. The dog in fact, was taking him (and his shorts) for a walk!

That thought led to another, as often happens, and I ended up at the most unexpected place. I found myself thinking about the things we are sometimes lazy about, the kinds of things that should never be associated with laziness - forgiving a wrong, showing gratitude, offering a kind word or helping someone in need. These build us and others up, and joy is often an unexpected bi-product, a good reason to be intentionally working at these things!

On the other hand, we would do well to be lazy when it comes to keeping a record of wrongs, hurting others with our words and engaging in gossip. Easy to do, these natural tendencies have nothing good to offer. Whether we are conscious of it or not, they tear down and destroy.

I suspect the word ‘laziness’ may continue to conjure in my mind, the image of a dog taking a man and his shorts for a walk. That’s a good thing because I need to be reminded often, that I should be in the business of building others up.