Category: Memories

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Stuck in the mud

A game we used to play as kids at school was a game called stuck in the mud. The concept was that one person was in and if they tagged you, you were ‘stuck in the mud’ until someone came and rescued you by crawling between your legs.

James and I love bushwalking. We often end up on tracks that are overgrown and boggy underfoot. Sometimes the boggy bits are easy to navigate, sometimes they’re not. There is nothing quite like the squelch as your boot sinks into the mud and then the slurping noise it makes as you lift it out, covered from toe to heel in thick gooey mud!

On one memorable coastal walk we encountered several muddy and boggy sections of the path, they got progressively worse as the track wound deeper into the bush where there was little sunlight to dry the mud out. We navigated several mud crossings trying to walk around the mud or finding branches to walk on over the top of it. Eventually though we gave up trying to avoid the mud and decided to walk straight through it until we came to dry land again. It was easier but way messier! On this particular walk there was also a river crossing where we had to jump the river to get to the other side. It wasn’t a huge jump and probably looked worse than it actually was, but I was apprehensive, I was not keen on the idea, and I was afraid of losing my footing or missing the jump altogether and landing in the fast-flowing water of the river. However, with James securely on the other side of the river and encouraging me on, I made the jump and we continued on our way.

I was afraid of getting ‘stuck in the mud’. There were times on this walk where it would have been easier to go back the way we came rather than persevere through the at times almost impassable conditions.

We continued on the path until it opened out to a rockface that had to be seen to be believed. Spectacular would be an understatement. There are not enough adjectives to describe the view that opened up before us. It was breathtaking, rugged, and so worth the hike to get there! As we sat on the rocks to eat our picnic sandwiches we marvelled at the wild beauty of where we were sitting. It was simply stunning, and we spent a long while exploring the area.

The point I’m making is this; if I had given up when I wanted to, I would have missed this amazing sight. And I would have stopped James from experiencing it as well.

So many times, we let fear stop us from experiencing the best God has for us. It’s too hard or we’re afraid of getting stuck. But we do get stuck. We get stuck on the obstacle in front of us and take our eyes off the path beyond. How many times have we missed what is waiting for us because we get stuck at the roadblock? What I have found with muddy paths is that you can’t stop. You have to keep going because otherwise your boots become caked with mud and heavy to wear. And the heavier your boots get, the harder it is to keep walking.

Sometimes we need someone alongside us to encourage us to keep going, or someone to rescue us as in my childhood game. The cries of the children ‘stuck’ in that game were almost frantic as they called out to their mates to crawl between their legs and set them free. Are we that desperate to become unstuck? Are we that desperate to cry out to someone to rescue us and set us on the right path again? If we’re not, we should be.

The Holy Spirit is the friend we can call out to, to help us become unstuck. The bible tells us many times that He will ‘never leave us or forsake us’. When you’re stuck, cry out to Him. Whatever your circumstances, there is always a way out. It might involve getting a bit messy, but He will comfort, help and guide you to safe ground if you just trust Him.

So, let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. Galatians 6:9

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Until death do us part

My mother-in-law passed away at the end of 2021.

I never knew her. I mean, I knew who she was, but I never knew her.

My mother-in-law had dementia and by the time I came on the scene after James’ first marriage had ended, the damage to her cognition was already evident. She never had a clue who I was. In fact, the first time I met her she asked me where I lived. When I told her she replied with “Oh, James and (ex wife) live there.” And to rub salt into the wound, she still had their wedding photo on display in the living room. Not the best start to meeting the prospective in-laws!

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”

How many of us think about what we’re promising when we get married? I mean, really think about it. I’m sure most of us if we’re honest wouldn’t really be contemplating the worst-case scenario where we would ever have to put these words into action. Our wedding day is supposed to be one of the happiest days of our lives. We don’t want to spoil it by giving thought to inconceivable ‘what if’s’.

But what happens when the ‘what if’s’ get called into account? When the bubble bursts and you’re faced with the stark reality of your promise?

My father-in-law cared for my mother-in-law in their home until two weeks before she died. And even then, she only went into hospital for an unrelated event. For over a decade he cared for her at home as her health got progressively worse. My father-in-law took his marriage vows seriously. She passed away just days after their 58th wedding anniversary. His diligence in caring for his wife, the tenderness in the way he treated her, the sacrifices he had to make, the toll it took on his own body. This is what unconditional love looks like.

Not giving up and walking away because things got hard. Selflessly sacrificing his comfortable life when it would have been so much easier to put her in care. This is what true love in action looks like.

This is what until death do us part looks like.

I don’t say it lightly when I say my father-in-law is a hero.

He would scoff at that. You will never meet a more unassuming and humble man.

I’m sad I never got the chance to know my mother-in-law. I would have loved the opportunity to have had a relationship with her. The eulogies shared at her funeral spoke of a warm, loving, smart and funny woman who clearly was the centre of her husband and sons’ worlds.

Because she had a faith, we take comfort in the fact that she is now with Jesus. She is free from her pain, and we will see her again. I look forward to introducing myself properly!

He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. Revelation 21:4

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Jeneft

I have a doll, her name is Jeneft… don’t ask…. I have no idea where I thought that name up from… I’m not even sure how to spell it!

Jeneft has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl, she was the one I would cry myself to sleep with after a bad day, she was the first thing I packed in my doll’s pram the time I was going to run away from home… and she was my first life lesson in things that can’t be undone.

As a young girl, I aspired to be a hairdresser. Jeneft was my first ‘client’. Yes, I cut off all her hair. I tried to stick it back with sticky tape before woefully bringing her to my mum so she could fix it… because Mums fix everything, right? Wrong. Not even my mum could make Jenefts hair come back… it was gone… and she now had a very unattractive hair do.

And, just to rub salt into the wound, poor Jenefts feet were also unceremoniously chewed off by my Fox Terrier puppy.

Time went on and I lost track of Jeneft.  Although I never forgot her, for a while I did not know where she had ended up. It turned out my mum had kept her and knitted her a lovely bonnet and sewed some new feet and shoes to cover up her injuries. I still remember finding her in a box one day and the giggle it brought James as I loudly exclaimed her name… Jeneft!! He said in that moment I reminded him of an excited little girl.

We all have a ‘Jeneft moment’ in our lives… sometimes more than one. A time when we do something and as soon as it is done, we realise our mistake and try desperately to undo it. But unfortunately, some things just cannot be undone. Sometimes the consequences of our actions will stay with us forever… and we are left with scars, visible like my Jenefts, or invisible that only we know about.

And often our ‘Jeneft moments’ come at the hands of someone else. An action done not by us, but to us, that cannot be undone.

I have had many ‘Jeneft moments’ in my life but the defining one came in 1984. Regular readers of my blog will know the story but for the benefit of those who don’t… here it is, long story, short…. I fell pregnant to my boyfriend at the age of sixteen. To say his parents were displeased is the understatement of the century. They forced me in no uncertain terms to get rid of the problem that I had created. This ‘problem’ was my unborn and still developing baby, their grandchild. Call me naive but back then I had no idea about developmental stages in the womb. As with cutting Jeneft’s hair, I didn’t fully consider the consequences of having an abortion… I had no idea what an impact my actions would have. I honestly thought and was deceived into believing that as long as you aborted before the twelve-week point, no harm was done because ‘it’ hadn’t started forming yet. ‘It’ was still only just a clump of tissue. I think back on that now and cringe… how could I have been so ignorant? The tragedy in this is that I am more than likely not alone… and the bigger tragedy is that there are people in the abortion industry who still promote this theory.

Fast forward thirty-six years and rarely a day goes by for me without being reminded of that time. A social media post calling women who have abortions murderers, an article demonising those same women for making an impossible ‘choice’ or a modern day pharisee on their self-righteous high horse is usually enough for the feelings of anger to well up, even though I know I am fully forgiven, fully loved and fully whole in Jesus regardless of my past.

As with Jeneft, no one could put me back together after that experience. It was as if nobody wanted to talk about it as each person in the drama tried to figure out how to play their part, by either acknowledging it and dealing with it, or burying their heads in the sand and hoping it goes away, which has been my ex-boyfriend’s approach up until now. But the thing is, something like this can never go away – no matter how deep you try to bury it, it will inevitably find its way to the surface time and again until you deal with it. And I literally came face to face with that exact thing earlier this year. If you haven’t read about that encounter, you can read it here Little Girl Lost – Redeemed

What I learned from that encounter is that it is not my responsibility to put other people back together, nor is it theirs to put me back together. The past can only stay buried for so long until it comes back to bite you. And if you are not ready, it will not be a pleasant experience.

I found out recently through a mutual friend that my ex-boyfriend still holds his mother’s opinion that having an abortion was “the right thing to do”. I actually feel incredibly sorry for both of them that they hold that belief. Trying to deny that something happened is not going to change the fact that it did. And I have found that God has a way of undoing everything that we believe is secure in our thinking. Eventually He will unravel us until we have no choice but to confront our past. And that, my friend, is truly the “right thing to do” because then and only then can we find the freedom and healing that only He can bring.

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Little Girl Lost

As a grown woman, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I could super-impose my older, wiser head onto the shoulders of the young girl and teenager I once was. Of course, that cannot happen, and if it did, I would not be writing this blog! But every now and then I just want to put my arms around her and reassure her that it is going to be alright. I want to tell her that she is loved and valued for who she is, not who she thinks others expect her to be. I want to tell her she turns out ok, despite everything she is going through.

Recently I faced a situation where a significant piece of my past literally turned up right in front of me. Through a bizarre connection, my ex-boyfriend the father of my aborted baby, and his mother the woman who insisted it happen, were both in the city where I live for an event that I was going to be at. Because of the bizarre connection, I was given warning they would be there but that did little to dispel my apprehension about seeing them after all these years.

In the week leading up to this event I went through the whole gamut of emotions. From feeling brave to feeling terrified. Feeling angry to feeling sad. Feeling defensive to feeling gracious. But my overwhelming feeling was protective…. Protective of my sixteen-year-old self. I just wanted to wrap her in my arms and say, “it’s ok girlfriend, we’ve got this”. The memories and feelings this pending confrontation evoked had me in a spin. My grown woman was ready, but my inner teenage girl was not even close to being ready to face the people who had caused her so much pain.

The day came and I prepared myself as best I could. My outfit, hair and attitude were all carefully put together to ensure I felt as confident as was possible under the circumstance I was in. I looked good, and I felt good. But inside I was as nervous as anything. It’s ok girlfriend, we’ve got this… it was the unmistakeable voice of the Holy Spirit. He was reassuring me that I was not alone, and I immediately felt at peace.

The event went off without incident and afterwards I got the feeling my ex-boyfriend wanted to speak to me. He was hovering, and it was weird. We have had no contact for thirty-six years. Obviously, he lost his nerve because he never said a word to me but a week later, he sent a text to a mutual friend asking them to apologise to me. For what?? That you forced me to kill our baby, or because you didn’t have the guts to speak to me? His mother on the other hand had once again made herself abundantly clear. It took every ounce of courage I had to look her squarely in the eye, only to have her turn on her heel and walk away without uttering a word. She didn’t have to. I knew where we stood.

But you know what? I faced my giants that day, and they were nowhere near as big as I thought they were. My little girl lost found herself that day and discovered she is brave, she is beautiful, and she is loved despite any lies the enemy tries to throw at her. This was a monumental moment in my life, and I came away from it feeling at least twenty kilograms lighter, such was the weight that had been lifted.

I have forgiven my ex-boyfriend and his mother. More than that, I feel compassion for them because they clearly have not acknowledged or dealt with the part they played in this chapter of my life, and in the ending of my baby’s life before it even began. That is still a process they must go through. I have forgiven myself and I know I am forgiven by God, and Jesus who is watching over my child until we meet in Heaven. Yes, I believe my baby went to Heaven and I will get to meet him one day.

I still cannot believe the circumstances that enabled this set of events to happen. If I told you the whole story you would not believe me, it is that incredible. Although, I will tell the whole story one day, but the final chapter is still to be written so it will have to wait.

One of the songs we sang in church that weekend was ‘Raise a Hallelujah’ by Bethel Music

“I raise a hallelujah, In the presence of my enemies; I raise a hallelujah, Louder than the unbelief. I raise a hallelujah, My weapon is a melody; I raise a hallelujah, Heaven comes to fight for me. I’m gonna sing in the middle of the storm. Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar. Up from the ashes hope will arise; Death is defeated, the King is alive. I raise a hallelujah, With everything inside of me; I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee. I raise a hallelujah, In the middle of the mystery; I raise a hallelujah, Fear, you lost your hold on me”

Thank you Jesus. I could not have said it better myself.

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Bruises

My dog Holly and I had a run in yesterday. She is very exuberant in showing her love and I unfortunately had my face in the wrong place at the wrong time and received a massive paw to the nose and mouth. It was completely accidental, but boy did it hurt!

This unintentional injury from Holly took me back to another place, another time and another injury to my face. One punch, two punches, three punches to the side of my face; only coming to an end when my young daughter who had silently entered the room with her brother cried “Dad, Stop!” It broke my heart that they had to witness what they saw. The pain I now had around my eyes and the side of my nose after my run in with Holly triggered a memory of the pain I had then when I received a beating because I had said or done something wrong. The black eye I tried in vain to cover up, the lies I had to tell my boss explaining why I could not come to work. The fear, the shame… the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Because clearly this was my fault…. People don’t go around behaving like this for no reason. Right?

So, after a very restless night, I woke this morning feeling like I had been hit by a truck. Every part of me ached, especially my head. Holly is a Golden Retriever, and her paws are huge, but I imagine the stirred-up memory was also very much contributing to my headache.

As I was getting ready to shower, thinking about this past event that had so unexpectedly reared its ugly head, the words came to me Lord, I forgive him. Where did that come from?! Didn’t I already forgive this stuff? Again, the words “Lord, I forgive him” only this time they came not from inside my head but out of my mouth.

After my shower as I was putting my make-up on, the mirror in front of me clearly showed my wounds from Holly. I remembered another moment of putting on make-up to try and cover the ugly black eye… Lord, I forgive him. I remembered the family and friends I no longer see because I wasn’t allowed to have contact with them… Lord, I forgive him. The pain he caused me and my children… Lord, I forgive him. The affair, the lies, the abuse, the manipulation that it was all my fault… Lord I forgive him.

One by one the memories came… and one by one the words Lord, I forgive him. By the end of it I felt like I had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. I was physically, spiritually, emotionally and mentally drained.

I had a group of ladies coming over in an hour and my first instinct was to cancel them. I looked hideous and I was tired. I just wanted to curl up in a corner and hide. Then it came… ‘Thankfulness’. “What?” It was a clear instruction from the Holy Spirit. Be thankful. ‘Put on a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’.

“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.” ~ Isaiah 61:3 NLT

While I don’t believe God deliberately caused Holly’s paw to slap me in the face, I do believe He is using it for His purpose in extending my stretch and my growth. My attitude completely changed as I began to find things to be thankful for… and there are so many.

My past may bring up painful reminders from time to time, but nothing is wasted in God. He will use any and every circumstance for His glory and to bring us to the place where we can be fully, honestly and completely whole. I took one step closer to that place today… and I must be thankful that my dog so lovingly slapped me in the face!

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Christmas Trees

Regular readers of my blog would know how much I love Christmas. Last year I shared the story about why James and I have two Christmas trees, if you missed it you can read it here: The Tale of Two Trees… – Redeemed

One of our trees is a white tree that I decorate with colour co-ordinated baubles in my favourite colours of purple, blue, teal and pink. The other tree is a traditional green tree which is decorated with a lifetime of memories… they are both beautiful in their own way.

Neither tree is shop window perfectly decorated, I unfortunately don’t have that skill. But to me they are perfect because they are decorated with love and meaning. It usually takes me about a week to finish our trees… I do the ‘first draft’ and then sit back to see where the gaps are, how it looks in different light etc until I am happy with the final product!

Our white tree is a fun thing to do, and the second of our two trees. The other tree, the ‘main tree’ is more significant, because just about every ornament on this tree holds a memory….

It holds memories of my kid’s chubby little hands proudly bringing their macaroni ornaments home from school. Little hands that are now grown up hands with their own trees to decorate, but still those first ornaments (now in their third decade!) hang proudly on my tree.

It promises new memories as the next generation of grandbabies become old enough to appreciate and make their own decorations to hang on Nana and Pa’s tree.

It brings back memories of special people, no longer with us to celebrate Christmas. My ex mother-in-law, my children’s Grandma, would buy them a new ornament every year to go on the tree. This is our third year without her here on earth and those ornaments have become more poignant as I remember the bond that she and I continued to share despite the fact that her son and I had divorced, a reminder that life and relationships can go on even when circumstances are less than ideal.

There are decorations that allow us to reminisce over memories of special places visited and times with treasured friends, seasons of discovery, exploration and joyful adventures.

And, it carries hope in memories of new beginnings. One of our ornaments a love heart I bought for James at Christmas in the first year we had been dating. He had a very forlorn tree as almost everything he had owned had been taken from him and he’d had to start again from scratch. This ornament is a precious keepsake from when our love was new and a reminder that there is always hope for the future, even when everything around you might be falling apart.

As I sit back and admire my tree, I can’t help but be so very grateful.

Grateful for family and friends, at home and around the world. Grateful for cherished times had with those who are no longer with us. And grateful for second chances and new beginnings. But most of all, I am grateful to my God who loved us so much that He sent His son as a baby on that very first Christmas and to the son, Jesus who willingly came and gave His life that we would have eternal life… and that is something worth remembering and celebrating!

May your 2020 Christmas season be one of love and happy memories. I’d love to hear your Christmas traditions… please feel free to comment!

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