Apple Leaf Blog Faith, Family and Fiction

New Blog

2011-04-15T13:17:00.001+09:30

Dear Friends,

I'll be sharing posts across at a new blog I've just made. It's name is "It Just Occurred to Me" and it's address is www.justoccurred.blogspot.com

I think I needed a fresh blogging outlook and vision. I really hope to hear from you there.

God Bless anyone who has followed me all this time.

Concrete Mountains

2011-04-05T16:10:00.002+09:30

Or "Ashes under the soles of our feet" Part 2

Continuing on from my reflection of a few weeks ago, I won't even bother to ask if you've ever wondered how God's promises can be consistently true when we don't seem to see them borne out in people's lives. I'm sure everybody wonders that at some times. All around us, people seem to be battling problems that seem insurmountable; Christians who consider themselves heirs to God's promises sadly appear to be no different in many cases.

So problems may seem like concrete rather than ash, and our natural instinct is to grab a pick-axe or other heavy excavation tool to come against them with force. We also want to chase those elusive blessings until we nail them down. In the ten years I've been writing books I've had spells of frenetic activity, racing around madly trying to think of new and innovative ways to sell them, driven by terror that I won't get my novels off the ground and the whole thing will crash and burn. And I've collapsed onto my pillow at night, close to tears which surprise me. Often when I think I'm taking something calmly, my body knows differently.

But aren't we supposed to be hard at work, looking after our own interests? You may well ask. The alternative that springs to mind is that we sit around doing nothing but waiting for God to act on our behalf. I've tried this approach too and it works no better.

After a lot of prayer and angst, I believe God has revealed to me that the key is in our attitude. We serenely do what we see before us, we take the next step, but we do it with a peaceful and trusting state of mind. We know that any individual action may fall short of what we intended but it doesn't rattle our composure. The one true friend powerful enough to turn our cement mountains into ash is God Himself. As we do what we see before us, we trust Him to honor our efforts and faith by doing what only He can do. We echo Psalm 90, imploring God to establish the work of our hands and believe that He will do it.

'Every promise of Scripture is a writing of God which may be pleaded before Him with this reasonable request, "Do as thou hast said." The Creator will not cheat the creature who depends upon His truth and far more, the Heavenly Father will not break His Word to His own child'
Charles H Spurgeon

Some Australian book reviews

2011-03-29T16:19:00.002+10:30

I am going to include a review or two on my blog on a regular basis. As material by Australian Christians often remains under-highlighted by shops, this will be my main focus. I've always referred to reviews to help me decide whether or not to buy a particular book and I'm really looking forward to getting started. Today I'll begin with a novel and a book of devotions.

STREETS ON A MAP by Dale Harcombe
Abby, a successful singer in metropolitan Sydney, marries Joel and moves to Astley, the country town he was raised in. Feeling shunned by the locals and at a loss for things to do, she must get creative. Before long, Abby discovers that life in the small town holds more in store than she ever anticipated.

Astley turns out to be a paradigm of the wider world. Normal people lead lives of quiet heroism. Every day is full of noble gestures that may go unnoticed in the grand scheme of events, yet have the power and potential to change the lives of others. A deliberately lit fire, a baby's early delivery, a brand new business, the return of an estranged sister and a cold-blooded attack are just some of the issues dealt with in the story.

As the characters are all honest, regular, down-to-earth people, it's no stretch of the imagination for readers to see that we too, may be a source of huge blessings. It is a story of how small ripples may have more far-reaching effects in our sphere of influence than we may imagine. Beautiful reflections about relationships and the Australian lifestyle make "Streets on a Map" the sort of book that helps us to realize the value of what we have. I found myself refreshed with a renewed sense of optimism and contentment by the finish.

THANKFUL FOR DISHES by Narelle Nettelbeck
This is a book of 1oo devotions for busy mothers. Narelle Nettelbeck understands how worn out women can become as we try to juggle many different aspects of daily life at once. She also knows that the encouragement we need to fulfill our roles is sometimes a long time coming and has taken it upon herself to fill the gap. Each of these devotions is pure gold, never condemning but always convicting in a very gentle way.

They have also helped to transform my vocabulary. Things I once called "mundane" have now become "noble". It's a book that lives up to its title. I never thought I'd say this, but as I read I found that I truly was thankful for my dishes.

Next week I will review the following novels
Mary's Guardian - Carol Preston

African Hearts - Laura O'Connell

My heart for "Best Forgotten"

2011-03-24T12:15:00.004+10:30

"Best Forgotten" is my brand new fiction title. I've loved the challenge of writing every single one of my novels but in this one, I've tried to weave together elements of mystery, suspense and redemption in a way I've never done before.

A young accident victim wakes up in hospital and can't remember who he is. He finds that not only does he have nothing in common with his family but he develops an aversion to the person he used to be. He just can't understand or relate to the way he used to behave or the choices he made. The more he learns about himself, the more puzzled and upset he feels.

He finds out that his best friend had disappeared without a trace on the night of his own accident. The more he tries to investigate, the more likely it appears that he was involved in something really shady. And he's terrified that something bad is after him. So he's torn between wanting to find out and being terrified that he'll have to face horrible consequences when he does.

When you, readers, find out the mystery, hopefully you'll let out a dramatic gasp and cry out, "Oh wow, I never saw that one coming!" That was my intention, anyway :)

As a theme, I've been fascinated for a long time by the relationship between our thinking patterns and what we make of our lives. How much is a person's personality shaped by their sum of experiences? To what extent do the thoughts we choose make us into the people we are? Do the small, apparently random choices we make during our daily lives have the impact to come back when least expected and influence the rest of our lives?

I love it when a work of fiction not only entertains readers but changes us at the core too, by getting us to think about how what we've read within the pages may also have bearing on our own lives and apply to us. These are the stories we like to remember, lend to others and call really special. It's a quest I've tried to take seriously. Novelists have the responsibility to readers to offer the very best and that's what I hope I've achieved.

When you visit your local Koorong store, please remember to pick up "Best Forgotten" (I couldn't resist the chance to work in this pun.) It is also available from other good regional Christian bookstores. Please remember "Best Forgotten" when you're wondering what present to give a book-loving friend. Its plot and theme should be of wide general appeal. If you've ever read and enjoyed any of my books before, I'm appealing to you to get hold of a copy of this, because readers have a responsibility toward authors too. If Koorong don't make good sales, they will not buy any of my future titles :( That would make me very sad because I'd have to stop writing :( Hopefully it would make some of you sad too. But I won't worry about that happening because I trust people will remember "Best Forgotten" and my other titles too.

For Aussie and international readers alike, the book is also available directly from my website, www.appleleafbooks.com and also from Amazon.com.

Ashes under the soles of our feet (Part 1)

2011-03-09T14:18:00.003+10:30

"The Sun of Righteousness will dawn on those who honor my name, healing radiating from its wings. You will be bursting with energy like colts, frisky and frolicking. And you'll tromp on the wicked. They'll be nothing but ashes under your feet on that day." Malachi 4: 2-3, The Message.

Firstly, I don't think 'the wicked' is necessarily referring only to people or even spiritual forces who stand against us. Adverse circumstances which we hate - sickness, feeling hampered from moving forward into our personal mission, anything that causes us to feel downcast and unhappy, I can quite easily consider 'wicked.' Agents that cause it may be human, spiritual or a combination. Anything that takes away our joy can fit the description, for the joy of the Lord is our strength.

Secondly, whenever I am worn out, physically, mentally or spiritually, and take time to sit back and figure out why, I often discover I've been unconsciously thinking if I don't take certain actions, all will be lost! Hopes and dreams will gurgle down the plughole! Health will deteriorate. Children will go to seed and become undisciplined. I walk around feeling as if holding everything together depends on me. Imagine a person who sets their face, believing that they can walk into the heart of a cyclone with arms outstretched, attempting to ward it off single-handed. Or think of Atlas, walking forever hunched and bowed beneath the weight of the whole world. That describes my attitude at times.

It explains the ache in my shoulders and neck, trembling in my limbs, churning in my stomach and intense fatigue in my whole spirit. At times I am exhausted with a 'fighting' mentality I am not supposed to have. I know the Bible refers to Christians as 'mighty warriors' but that is in Christ, not in our own strength.

So I started to ponder the passage above from the Book of Malachi. We all know ashes collapse with the tiniest contact. We hardly need to touch them, let along pound, prod, bash and attack, as is our natural instinct. Not only do they immediately collapse but they disintegrate into such a fine, grey powder that nothing remains. They may appear to be deceptively solid. After a BBQ or camp fire has finished, we see rock-like structures in the cold embers retaining their shape, but when we touch them they disintegrate into fine ash. The solid appearance was merely an illusion.

So is this passage from Malachi telling us that the 'wickedness' we perceive in our lives, these problems may be the same? What an incredible feeling of release we should feel if this is true. How do we come to a place where we can laugh at daily problems that are a part of life and treat them as the ashes we are told they are?

That will be the subject of my next post (Part 2) Remember, I've resolved not to make my blog posts too long :D I'll catch you in a few days.

Good Smelling Prayers

2011-02-23T19:49:00.002+10:30

Many bloggers have written posts about prayer and I'm about to have my say too.

It is easy to go through dry patches in our prayer life simply because God is on such a different dimension to humans. While friends and family will smile and respond to the words we say, I'm sure we've all had moments when we wonder how we can be certain that God even hears us. How can we keep our prayer-drive going or encourage others to when we are faced with nothing measurable by the 5 senses? It seems no wonder that in busy schedules, prayer is often the first thing to be sacrificed in a daily planner.

I came across a provocative passage about the mechanics of prayer and how it actually works. What if there is some sort of real, measurable energy that radiates from our souls to God when we pray - that humans simply have not learned to measure? Something real, tangible and perceptive to Him. It's easy to understand when we remember that dogs and other animals perceive extremely subtle sounds and scents which humans are simply not tuned into. Yet it clearly doesn't mean that these sounds and scents don't exist because we can't hear and smell them.

We cannot detect ultrasound waves with our natural senses either. I can remember lying there watching my babies wriggle around in my pregnant belly but I certainly couldn't feel the waves that were pouring through my flesh, allowing the images to appear on the computer monitor. It is the same with radio waves, which have always existed long before humans figured out how to tap into them.

It makes perfect sense to believe that a powerful spiritual energy rises from us to God when we pray. Scripture claims that in heaven there are "golden bowls full of incense which are the prayers of the saints." (Revelation 5:8) What if that is literal and our prayers can, in fact, be captured by God and placed into actual bowls? Imagine that image the next time you wonder whether it's even worth bothering to pray.

In Scripture, Paul calls believers, "the aroma of Christ" and "fragrance of life" (2 Corinthians 2: 15-16) In the realm of the eternal, this also may be literally true. Imagine that God smells us, and we smell good. And also we have no way of measuring such things now, what if there may be a possibility in the future?

When we are told, "the prayers of a righteous man (or woman) avails much" we'd do well to believe it. It's not just a nice thought that people say based on wishful thinking. Sometimes we may get warm fuzzies when we pray - Christian biographies and novels tell us this - but we shouldn't fall into the trap of feeling frustrated and disappointed when we don't. It doesn't mean that results aren't happening. Often the most amazing spiritual breakthroughs take place far beyond the realm of what we detect with our physical feelings. That's enough to keep me excited about persevering. How about you?

The Illiterate Generation

2011-01-27T12:07:00.002+10:30

Is this the stage we've come to?

Recently we heard through the media that the current younger generation (and I guess they're talking about Y and Z) is the first generation since Australian settlement that is more illiterate than their parents! That's a concern but when I thought about it, I had to admit that I was not all that surprised for several reasons.

These are days of fast text talk and fashionable abbreviations. Sadly, I've seen billboards and magazine adverts with terms such as LOL and ROFL indicating that their writers assume everybody can understand them. When sentences can be shortened to C U L8R, who even needs to be literate in the 21st century? Not long ago, I made the mistake of not noticing that I was reading Face Book news feed on my daughter's profile. Assuming it was my profile, I made a few comments. Emma got really cranky and started scolding me. "Mum, can't you just LOOK! This is so embarrassing if people think it's me commenting."

As everything I'd written was quite pleasant and innocuous, I asked her why it would be such a disaster. Her answer spoke volumes. "Because you use full-stops and commas. You spell properly and put all those little wriggly things around sentences when people talk. I don't want people to think I'm a dork."

So it's become trendy and fashionable to use no grammar and punctuation! In that case, we may be up against a thicker brick wall than we ever expected. If you follow internet forums, you'll bang your head against it all the time. We have to turn a blind eye or we're called "Grammar Nazis." Lynne Truss quotes this film review example in her book, "Eats, Shoots and Leaves."

I watched this film (About a Boy) a few days ago expecting the usual hugh Grant bumbling.. character Ive come to loathe/expect over the years. I was thoroughly suprised. This film was great, one of the best films i have seen in a long time. The film focuses around one man who starts going to a single parents meeting to meet women, one problem He doesnt have a child.

Truss goes on to express her sadness when people who have been taught nothing about their own language spend their leisure hours trying to string sentences together for the edification of others. (And I have to add that this example from Lynne Truss is one of the better ones I've seen.)

I'll always remember when an editor of mine commented that I've done remarkably well with my proper English expression considering that I belong to what she called, "The Deprived Generation." She wasn't talking about Generations Y and Z but Generation X! People who, like me, were schooled in the 1970s and 1980s when schools were beginning to drop grammar and punctuation of the English syllabus to focus solely on literary critiquing. I can remember being taught about nouns and verbs in Year 3 (1978) but nothing after that.

I have suffered for the lack. I find myself turning to grammar guides, thesauruses, dictionaries and the internet when I'm editing work, while I'm sure many older friends and family who belong to Baby Boomers and Builders would not need to. This takes time that I wish I didn't have to use, but hey, at least I'm making the effort, unlike some younger folk from Y and Z who believe that trying to use their mother tongue correctly is corny and uncool.

It makes me very sad. We now see Baby Boomer teachers retiring leaving clueless Gen X counterparts (who don't have much idea) to teach even more clueless Gens Y, Z and Alpha (who have even less of an idea and don't want to know, thanks very much). Is this a case of the blind leading the blind? Where is it all going to end?

I want to finish with this hilarious letter which proves just what a huge difference seemingly tiny grammar changes can make.

Version 1
Dear Jack,

I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy-will you let me be yours?

Jill

Version 2
Dear Jack,

I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me. For other men I yearn! For you I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?

Yours,
Jill

PS - I've been making generalizations throughout this post and apologize if I offend any individual who none of this applies to.

Bells and Cuckoo Clocks

2011-01-15T16:01:00.003+10:30

I've been mulling over an idea for a new novel. It's another contemporary drama/romance because I love those the best. I always begin my musings with a range of characters who appeal to me, and then I build a plot around them until I feel it's just right. (I know there are others who do it the opposite way; that is they come up with a catchy plot and then build the characters around it, but that's the subject of another post.)

For three or four weeks I've been trying to figure it all out inside my head and two nights ago it all came together. I now have a plot and characters intact, so the writing will soon begin. Having written seven other books already, here are a few tips I've learned about the creation process. I almost let myself fall into my old bad habits but pulled myself out of the trap.

1) Making a block of time to "nut it all out" doesn't work.
I've tried that often and I'm pleased to say I've finally learned my lesson. I would grit my teeth and think, I'm going to take my notebook, park in a quiet spot without distraction and won't come back until I have it all figured out or I'm the biggest dodo of all time! But it doesn't work that way. Creative people from long ago might have said that their Muse refused to be bossed around. I think they had a point. The nature of the imagination is such that you can't pin it down and demand that it come through for you. It just starts getting nervous and won't give you anything but nonsense.

At this stage, you could easily make the mistake of giving up with the belief that you'll never be able to figure it out. Don't do that!

2) Trust that no time has been wasted.
I mull over the story concept while I'm driving, washing dishes or walking. I come up with some little ideas which I think might work. Then I put aside time to jot them into my notebook so I won't forget them, just in case I may find them useful. This alone may take a bit of time. In the past I've found myself ending the day with a sigh, saying, "This is never going to work! I've just wasted time and I'll never have those hours back again."

In actual fact, those hours are not wasted at all. It may look like nothing much has been done, but that's an illusion, my friends! Those rough jottings and daydreams are worth more than we often give them credit for. I've found so often that even ideas I've decided to scrap have been stepping stones on the way to the ones I've kept.

My mind may appear something like this. I could have it so those two boys are swept off the coast while fishing.... somewhere like the Yorke Peninsula coast, or maybe Granite Island at Victor Harbor... then I could have it that they're picked up by a fishing boat..... Naw, I don't think I'll go with the sea idea because I want the heroine to rescue them and she wouldn't have access to a boat.... How about they get lost in the bush?.... No, not dramatic enough... they have to be really helpless and it needs to be clear that they are at the end of their own resources.... a hole in the ground.... yeah, I think that might work. An old mine shaft that nobody had discovered before!

Just for your interest, the result of all that musing above was "A Design of Gold." And don't get fooled into thinking it was easy by the few moments it might have taken to read that paragraph; it took hours, days and weeks to figure it all out.

3) When it all comes together, you may recognize it as a chime of triumph in your spirit.

Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I think the human spirit is wired so that you know instinctively when you've got it right! Getting my plots and characters all sorted out reminds me of trying to remember something I've temporarily forgotten.

For example, can you relate to trying to recall somebody's name and you're mulling different possibilities around in your head. I think it's John, no it's Jonathan, no, that's not it either, it's Jay... James... Jordan.... (At this point the bell chimes loudly) Yes, Jordan! That's it!

It's similar when I'm trying to figure out a plot for my new stories. When they are not quite right yet, it seems as if my brain doesn't quite recognize them. Then when I finally strike the right one, that bell chimes! Or imagine the ornate hand of a beautiful old cuckoo clock doing it's final stroke up to the twelve, and the bird pops out and sings. It's a great feeling and one of my favourite aspects of the early stage of writing. "I've got this excellent story and it's going to work. At the moment it's enclosed completely within my own head but one day others are going to read it too, love the characters, share the suspense and share just what I'm feeling now! Who knows where the impact may end!"

Writing a novel is not an easy thing but so worth it.

Me and Jane Austen

2010-12-31T09:42:00.004+10:30

I watched a late airing of Jane Austen's "Emma" last night. It was a fairly recent movie I'd never seen before with Kate Beckinsale as Emma instead of Gwyneth Paltrow, who I felt was all wrong when I saw her years ago. Anybody who has read the book would know that Emma Woodhouse was clearly a brunette and NOT blonde! Last night's movie impressed me as one that I was sure JA would probably approve of. Apart from Mr Knightley being a bit of a smarty-pants who was always right, "Emma" was one of my favourite books.

Now, this may surprise some people, but whenever I'm asked which famous author I'd most relate to, I can't help coming up with Jane Austen. Some friends of mine write historical fiction set far closer to Jane's time period and you might think they would have more in common with her. But no, it's me! For the rest of this blog post, I'll explain why.

Essentially, she used to write contemporary drama/romances set in her own little corner of the world. That's what I do too, although my corner of the world happens to be the Adelaide Hills in the early 21st century. Years ago, I read some advice that Jane herself gave other aspiring writers. She said something like, "Choose what you know, and for me, a small town with a handful of characters is the perfect thing to work with." I took her advice on board. Rather than tackling piles of research, I'm confident that if I set my stories around modern Mt Barker, the sounds, sights, smells and tastes of the area will come through with authentic freshness because I know just what I'm talking about.

As for Jane Austen, if she'd been at all interested in being a historical novelist, she might have set her books back in the Middle Ages, as some of her contemporaries used to. She even alluded to some of those authors in her novel, "Northanger Abbey." They were the ladies whose books her heroine Catherine used to avidly read. It's all quite interesting to me.

Jane loved to fill her novels with twists in plots; so do I. She loved working with witty, often quirky, entertaining dialogue. So do I. She liked her books to end with uplifting, positive happenings. So do I. As I watched "Emma" last night, I thought what a priceless gift Jane Austen has given us. We have an authentic slice of what it might have been like to live in the gracious, but often snobbishly class-conscious Georgian era. This might have been lost to us if she never wrote. Thank heavens she did. And hopefully, someday people may say similar things about me.

Jane Austen died aged 42. It's generally believed that she had Addison's Disease, which can now be controlled well with cortisone injections. What a waste, because she had so much more to give! In fact, she left an uncompleted manuscript behind her. We could have been blessed with so many more books than the six she left us with. There's another thing we have in common. I've just turned 41 and also have six books published, the seventh coming out this year. But when I think of how Jane used a quill pen and ink bottle for all of her revisions instead of having a trusty computer for all her editing needs, I can't help feeling a sense of awe.

Here's a picture I really like, as it highlights the analogy of me being like JA, showing her with all my modern trappings. Wouldn't she have loved it? I'd like to be able to say, "Thank you, Jane, for being one of my mentors. All writers need a role model and you've been a very good one."

Paula's Theory of Relativity

2010-12-04T08:39:00.003+10:30

When we sit back and think how relative just about everything is, it is the one thing that makes us tend not to form quick judgments about anything at all.

I have a book by Peter Daniels, who's old enough to clearly remember the days when "Beatle Mania" first struck the world; days when many of us were not even born yet. He describes how he saw the four young men on his television screen on that day in the 1960s and instantly thought how sloppily they wore their clothes, how rebellious and appalling their presentation seemed to be and how badly they needed haircuts. They were scruffy, uncouth and loud.

Fast forward a couple of decades to when this book was published. Daniels was watching a TV program with a sudden flashback, which he recognized as that very same clip he saw before. But this time, his initial impression was how clean-cut the four young men were and compared to what regularly bombarded his ears from all media forms, their music seemed reserved and almost classical.

His story made me realise that we do the same to ourselves too, all the time. Reminded me of a photo that was taken of me when I was about 17 or 18 years old. At that time, I'd been going through some sort of phase when I liked to dress up in old vintage sort of clothes that looked like they came from the 1920s or 1930s. I think I wanted to appear interesting and eccentric. In this particular photo I was wearing some sort of weird sailor suit and looked like a character from an Agatha Christie mystery. I'd been going through my anorexic stage too, and looked as skinny as a stick. At the time I thought it came across OK and was quite happy with the photo.

About five to seven years later, I looked at that same photo with disgust, my initial response being how stupid I looked and how mad I was at my family and friends for letting me make such a fool of myself in public. I slammed the album shut telling myself, "You were a real wally!" Then I found it again quite recently, about twenty years after it was taken, and this time I smiled with a bit of nostalgic affection for my old self, thinking how insecure I used to be and how hard I used to try to make a statement. I realised I probably just needed a smile and some encouraging feedback that I really was OK, and if I'd been around then, I would have given myself some.

So now the experience has made me think that as our opinions change all the time anyway, we might as well be generous in our attitudes toward ourselves and others at all times. By the same token, if you find yourself being harshly summed up by other people, remind yourself not to take it on board and get depressed because everyone's opinion is only relative. You have the option to never take mean, negative feedback as accurate!

Blessings everyone,
Paula

Paula's Incredible Time Machine

2010-11-27T09:11:00.002+10:30

Here is one of the most effective tools I've come across for dealing with bouts of discouragement and depression easily and thoroughly. It is completely free because this amazing machine operates within your own head. Here's how it works. When circumstances get you down, all you have to do is remind yourself, "Oh, I've got the incredible time machine." Then you choose to either zoom it back into the past, ahead into the future or a combination of the two.

I'll take my current discouragement issue to take as an example. I've been plugging away trying to write and sell my books for over ten years and feel as if I've been pushing a mountain all that time. I sometimes manage to move that mountain a few inches but if I stop to rub my throbbing head, it promptly slides back to just where it was. Well, that's how it seems anyhow. I know that discouragement can distort actual facts. When I'm tired and stressed, it's easy to sink into the rut of self-pity. Now that I know the Time Machine helps me out of this rut, here's what I do.

1) Whiz back into the past as many years as I want to go.

I zoom back to the year 1987, when I was totally stressed with my Year 12 load and convinced that I would crack under the strain. I was thinking, "I'll never get an offer to any university because my grades will be too lame." (RESULT: I actually did pass all the subjects fairly well and even achieved the highest score possible for English and I did get an offer to Adelaide University in the first round of offers)

Next I whiz back to those years of study when all my friends were pairing up, I was still single and depressed because I never thought I'd meet the right person, because all the nicest fellows were already taken etc etc. (RESULT: When I'd just turned 21, my brother-in-law introduced me to somebody who worked with him, and that turned out to be Andrew, who I've now been happily (mostly) married to for eighteen years)

Then I visit the year 1993, when I was having repeated early miscarriages and convinced myself that there was no way I'd possibly be able to start a family, because for some unknown reason, I just couldn't stay pregnant. (RESULT: I now have three fun, intelligent kids who are aged between fifteen and six)

There are other examples I could choose but you get the idea. When I revisit the past, I see that the results would have been just the same without putting myself through all the stress of the worry and depression, which turned out to be totally wasted and useless. Then I remind myself, "Hey, there seems to be a pattern here. One day I'll look back and kick myself for all the years of misery and depression I'm putting myself through now. So I'm going to stop. I don't see the full picture. Instead of being depressed, I'm going to simply keep on doing the small things that are put before me each day and stay optimistic because I have no idea of the great things the future may hold."

Then the thought of the future reminds me to use the Incredible Time Machine in the opposite direction.

2) Whiz forward five, ten, fifteen or more years. Then simply remember to ask myself, "Will this really matter then?"

My son, Logan, may be stressing us all out because he has a long-overdue assignment due, needs my help and neither of us can easily understand the text book. Or my son Blake may still be whining and struggling with a reading concept that I feel I've been over and over again with him. Instead of stressing and groaning, I can remember to whiz us forward and realise, "Hey, this issue will be long behind us in 5 years."

Or I may have tried to hold a Light the Dark party showcasing all the excellent Aussie books and products for Christmas shopping, got a whole lot of good food in, made a beautiful looking spread beneath the flashing Christmas tree and then nobody showed up. (Yes, this one isn't hypothetical. It actually happened last night. It is one of the weekly events (or non-events) that has pulled me into my rut) OK, so I take a deep breath, square up my shoulders, grin at my family and say, "Hey, ten years from now, this night will be well behind me. In fact just weeks from now, this night will be well behind me because I'm not going to stop persevering."

So if you get how the Incredible Time Machine works, I'm inviting you to use it too, because this is a blog that's designed to encourage. I believe that simple techniques are often the most effective. When we acknowledge our own lapses into depression, they may prove encouraging to others and therefore not wasted. So use this tool, fly backward and forward through your past and future, remind yourself that as change is definite, you might as well shake off your despondency and get on with the jobs you have before you.

Blessings,
Paula

The Commonsense Beatitudes

2010-10-21T08:27:00.002+10:30

Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves; they will always have entertainment.

Blessed are those who can distinguish between a mountain and a molehill; they will save themselves a lot of trouble.

Blessed are those who can rest and sleep without looking for excuses; they will become wise.

Blessed are those who know how to be silent and listen; they will learn new things.

Blessed are those who are intelligent enough not to take themselves too seriously; they will be appreciated.

Blessed are you if you can look seriously at small things and peacefully at serious things; you will go far in life.

Blessed are you if you can admire a smile and forget a scowl; your path will be sunlit.

Blessed are you if you can interpret the attitudes of others with good will, even when appearances are to the contrary; you may seem naive but that is the price of charity.

Blessed are those who think before acting and who laugh before thinking; they will avoid foolish mistakes.

Blessed are you if you know how to be silent and smile even when you are interrupted, contradicted or walked on; the gospel is beginning to take root in your heart.

Blessed are you especially if you know how to recognise the Lord in all those you meet; you have found the true light, true wisdom.

Fr. Joseph Folliet

The Talking Chicken

2010-10-15T13:45:00.003+10:30

OK, where am I going with this title? I'm like the talking chicken. It's all to do with something I don't consider is my greatest strength and that is self-promotion. After having six books published, you'd think I'd be less awkward about getting out there and selling them, but the truth is that my old habits have been very hard to squash. They spring up even now.

One day at High School, some of my friends were going about whispering that I was a show-off. I still get the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about it, and remember the decision I made to never, ever put myself in the position of being accused of that again. On top of that, the Bible tells us to wait for others promote us, doesn't it? Jesus Himself told the parable of the banquet guest who was asked to step down from the place of honour. Like many of us, I took it all on board and decided to be a model of humility and modesty. But the extent of this attitude has definitely got in the way of selling my books, which was not what I intended at all. I came across a little story that helped.

A man heard about a rare talking chicken that could speak five languages. He set out on a world-wide search to find it. After an exhausting search, he discovered one in a pet shop at a bazaar and asked the owner to post it to his home address. When he arrived home in two days, he asked his wife if the bird had arrived and she said, "Yes."
"Where is it?"
"In the oven."
"Arrrgh, that was a one-of-a-kind bird that could talk five languages!"
And his wife replied, "Well, why didn't he speak up?"

So I realised that I've been behaving just like this poor bird. When Jesus said to wait for others to promote us, I think his point was that we need to remember that all the good things He's given us come from Him. I'm sure He didn't mean for us to clam up and never mention the skills and talents God has given us, especially when He's given us them to benefit others. I asked myself if I believe my books have the potential to give people a lot of joy and enrich their lives. The answer is yes!

So folks, my books are really enjoyable, intriguing and good and if you haven't read them and enjoy a compelling story, please give them a go. Whew, I can tell you, it was difficult for me to type that sentence. All my instincts cried up against stating it outright like that, but if I can do it on this blog, I'll hopefully begin to learn to do it elsewhere too.

And if anybody reading this is another talking chicken, I hope this will help you too. If you have any similar stories, please let me know :)

The Ice Sculpture

2010-10-11T17:08:00.003+10:30

Here's a good reflection. Living your life is a bit like melting an ice sculpture that has been frozen to minus 50 degrees C. You start heating it up and for some time, nothing seems to be happening. There is lots of heat energy going into it with no visible results. But suddenly when the temperature gets to zero it begins to melt and you have water.

In the same way, you can put a saucepan of that water over a flame to boil but it appears that nothing is happening until around 100 degrees C. Then you begin to see a few bubbles, a bit of steam, and eventually it rolls up to a good, steady boil.

The principle here is that we can pour a lot of energy into anything (for me it's writing novels and homeschooling my family) and day by day it seems that nothing is happening. I've had moments of discouragement and been tempted to quit, wondering what is the use of plowing on for no results. Perhaps I'm just a victim of living life in the fast-paced 21st century, when we are conditioned to think our gratification should be instant. Yet the fact is that when we pour honest effort and energy into something meaningful, it's bound to bloom into something beautiful that is obvious to everyone as the fruits of our labour, as long as we stay faithful and don't quit!

Stories to combat writer's discouragement

2010-08-04T11:03:00.004+09:30

I was having some gloomy moments last week and couldn't figure out why, until I put two and two together. I've recently had two great things happen. 1) "Picking up the Pieces", the first novel I ever had published back in 2000, has been re-published! A good number of them arrived on my doorstep last week. 2) After working on it for over a year, my newest manuscript is out of my hands and with my editor. Now, you'd think those are both things that would make me cheer, "Hooray!" But when good things happen and I have time to stand back and take a deep breath, I find myself getting anxious and flat. All the "what ifs?" begin to surge through my head. "What if people don't really care? What if I can't sell them as quickly as I anticipated? What if all the hard work I've done amounts to nothing much?" I guess we all have these feelings sometimes. I've collected a few stories about other hardworking writers and scribes to help me combat them.

A lesson from Baruch

One of the lesser known people in the Bible, he was Jeremiah's secretary. Baruch took Jeremiah's dictation of the Lord's Words and then went and read them out to the people while Jeremiah was shut up and restrained. Eventually Baruch was asked to come before the princes in the royal household and read them out loud. I guess many of us remember how King Jehoiakim cut them up and threw them with contempt into the fire. Baruch had to run into hiding with Jeremiah and take the dictation again.

In the short chapter 45 of Jeremiah, although this is not stated in words, it appear that Baruch let himself grow discouraged because of the lack of public acclaim he and Jeremiah were earning. I can easily imagine that Baruch, swept away by the magnitude of what he was scribing, hoped to make a name for himself and even become a national hero. He'd staked his life and reputation for the sake of recording Jeremiah's prophecies for posterity. Surely he felt that God would decide to reward them in their here and now. When that didn't happen, Baruch must have sunk into depression, and Jeremiah received a prophecy especially for him. This is how it went. God's response was, "Should you seek great things for yourself - seek them not for I bring evil upon all flesh but leave you your life as a booty and snatched prize of war." It was probably not the response from God that Baruch longed to hear but there we have it. It seems to apply to me too at times. The rebuke seems to be not to value the response of men to your work so highly, because we're doing it for the love of God and others, and when our motivation is to earn accolades for ourselves, we have to be careful (ouch!)

The medieval writer of "Sir Gawain"

I refer to an article in the recent edition of the Omega Writer's "Zaphon" on-line magazine, written by Anne Hamilton. She drew my attention to this anonymous man who poured hours into writing his brilliant work in English. Just as he finished, it became unpublishable. A proclamation went out from the church restricting theological writing to Latin. Perhaps he sank into despair and thought, "How can God let this happen when He gave me the inspiration in the first place?" However, over 500 years later, the only surviving copy of his work influenced thousands of people. Twentieth century's two great professors JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis both fell in love with it and drew heavily on his writing for their own amazing series which we know and love so well.

The irony is, how could either of these two men possibly have known that their relatively obscure efforts would be incorporated into something timeless? And by the same token, how can we possibly know all the ways God will use the gift of writing He's given us without our knowledge? We know what we need to be doing! The amount of recognition we receive for it is inconsequential to God and should also be to us, as we have faith that He hasn't forgotten us and knows where He wants to take our work!

I feel better now myself.

Catch up at last

2010-04-16T08:01:00.002+09:30

It's been a long, long since I've updated here.

The fact is I decided to take a break from internet for a few months. Early in the year I had a chronic health problem which wouldn't go away, (but now it has, hooray!!), and a worrying financial problem which was a real hassle, (but now it's been sorted out, thank goodness). It was a really, really horrible time actually, so now that these two things are over I'm happier than ever with my old lifestyle. Yet after taking such a long holiday from the internet, I started wondering what I was going to do about blogging. Would I just start off where I left off? Not to mention I feel ashamed of not catching up with good friends on their blogs.

Anyway, while this was all going on, my family started to get more of a fascination with Facebook. They began to convince me that many more untapped "fans" might be reachable through setting up a fan page, so over the last few days that's what I've done. So for now, I've decided to put this particular blog on hold for an experiment, but I'm keep up my thoughts and impressions through my fan page on Facebook. I'd rather just have one thing happening than two.

So I'm going to begin visiting blogs again and leaving comments, as I'd love to know how you're all going. And I'd like to invite anybody who liked to keep up with this blog to visit my Facebook fan page and share your thoughts with me. I'd really love that.

My newsletter for December 2009

2010-01-04T11:18:00.002+10:30

New Year, New Decade

On Christmas Eve I had one of those milestone birthdays with a zero at the end of it. OK, it's the one between 30 and 50. It's handy in a way, when you spin over another decade just as the calendar spins over another decade. I've been told my due date was actually January 2nd, 1970 and wish I'd gone the distance, because Christmas Eve isn't a good time to try to fit a birthday into. I'm usually too busy along with everyone else. But there you go! And this year, I took the time to reflect because I don't want to go into my forties without some nostalgia.

First, I can see that it's an illusion that you're old or even middle aged when you reach it. In my heart of hearts I feel just the same as I did in my teens and early twenties. But back then, 40 did carry a middle-aged stigma. I wouldn't have wanted to write about them then, because I would have thought I had no idea how they think and feel. Now I know that they think and feel not much different as before. Now I'm not afraid to try to write convincingly about the elderly, because although I haven't got there yet, I'm willing to guess that it'll probably be the same.

40 years is a big chunk of time. The Israelites were wandering around in the Sinai Desert during a slab of time the duration of my life span. No wonder they thought God was slow to move. If I'd been a new-born baby during the Exodus from Egypt, it would have been the only life I'd ever known. Although 40 years is a snap in the grand scheme of things, it's definitely long enough for a person to become set in their ways.

I've seen extremes in my life. I've been chubby and I've been too skinny. I've been afraid that I could never have a baby or carry a pregnancy full term but I've also been surprised by a completely unexpected pregnancy. I can stand back and see that I've wasted a lot of energy fearing or worrying about things which never happened. I'll never have that emotional energy back again but at least I can launch into this season of my life with my eyes open.

New Year's Resolution

This is similar to all the advice you've probably heard to keep a Gratitude Journal, yet it's slightly different. I was thinking how I'd tend to get hurt feelings or sad if people overlook my efforts. Feeling unappreciated or unnoticed is not pleasant. On the other hand, when people do give us unexpected encouraging feedback, it gives us an instant lift. As God created us in His own image, He would surely feel the same. I found myself standing back and wondering how often I took the time to actually notice His efforts. He's made a fantastically beautiful world, and it's so easy to breeze along taking it for granted or not even noticing.

I've often been striving to make my own mark in the world and impress people. I'm tired of that attitude now. I want to begin to notice the beauty and say a sincere "Thank You Lord," for no other reason than warming His heart because somebody is acknowledging Him. Living in the Adelaide Hills is enough to give me a head start but beautiful things are everywhere. Babies and children, smiles on the faces of friendly people, images written in books. Yesterday I went for a walk in the Mt Barker wetlands near my home and started my new habit. I saw a great pelican sticking his neck under the water, tilting back his head and having a huge drink. He sort of shook it down his neck. And I sat still and watched a tiny wren flit into a bush and trill a little song that sounded like clear bells. What a huge difference there is between the pelican and the wren, yet they are both birds! I said, "Wow God, thank you for your magnificent variety." And at home, I wrote it into my journal and I felt good too. I think noticing the beauty is a habit I'll definitely keep up.

What I've been reading

In the week before Christmas I bought "The Book of Tomorrow" by Cecelia Ahern. She's only young and already a bestselling author, who wrote "PS, I Love You" which was made into a movie. I picked up her most recent book because the title drew me, and then the blurb on the back convinced me! I'll write it down, to show the impact a great blurb makes.

Tamara Goodwin has always lived in the here and now, never giving a second thought to tomorrow. Until a travelling library arrives in her tiny village bringing with it a mysterious, large leather-bound book locked with a gold clasp and padlock. What she discovers within the pages takes her breath away and shakes her world to its core. A mesmerising story about how tomorrow can change what happens today.

There you have it. An intriguing blurb needs to be paired up with an eye-catching cover to say, "Buy me!" My opinion of the book itself is that it was pretty good. I was interested enough to stay up late at the end of Christmas Day to finish it off, although the cheeky heroine had a mouth on her that I found a bit wearing on my nerves. It left me more enthusiastic to keep on with my own fiction for the Christian market because Christian readers deserve similar exciting and intriguing novels without having to wade through all the swearing and casual sex. And I have to add that this book is pretty mild compared to some I've read, including those which have been on the University English syllabus reading list.

Anyway, it's encouraging in a way to notice that the occasional bit of average writing can slip past the editors even in a best-seller like this. I found the following sentence:- "She had become grey in the face and lost all her colour." Now I've been assessing and tearing up my own work long enough to know that one of these two descriptive phrases should have been deleted. This sort of thing is a tautology. It's saying the same thing twice in different ways. Alison, my old editor who worked on my Quenarden books with me, used to refer to them as "wet water" and sometimes she'd jot "WW" in the margin of my manuscript with an arrow pointing to the tautology. When even bestselling books miss a few basic mistakes like this from time to time, it makes me think we can be easy on ourselves. We're all human!

Writers talking about other writers

Long ago I read some scathing comments that Louisa May Alcott wrote about Mark Twain, calling him vulgar and full of himself. She said that nobody should ever deign to read crass rubbish like his. Of course it was written in her polite, lady-like sort of way but I don't have her actual words in front of me. Anyway, a few days ago I came across a book which quoted Mark Twain himself slamming Jane Austen. He thought she was trite, affected and wrote books in which nothing meaty and interesting happened whatsoever. On his way home to America after his English tour, he complained that there was nothing better than her books in the ship's library. This proves that writers have always taken digs at each other. But it also proves that we should take lightly what other people say, no matter how great their credentials seem to be. All three of these authors are still enjoyed as classic geniuses with not just books but many quotes to their credit. People just have different tastes, that's all.

It also proves that there'll always be books you come across that you don't like much. You might consider them a waste of your money and time spent reading them. But maybe we should consider that if we didn't invest in books we don't enjoy from time to time, we probably wouldn't come across the rare gems either. And when you put them back into circulation by donating them to Goodwill Shops, somebody with different taste to yours might pick them up cheap and actually like them. Apart from my very favourites which I'd never part with, I'm beginning to think that books are like money. They are meant to be circulated and not hoarded.

A similar principle holds true for writing. Over time, I've ripped out or scribbled out lots of scenes that just seemed superfluous or not to fit. They were scenes that I'd worked hours on. That sort of situation has made me groan and think, 'What a waste of time and effort!' But it wasn't a waste because writing them was an integral part of writing the whole book.

That's all for now but I thought that in a few days I'll post some birthday and Christmas photos on. I might be posting more than just once a month, if I have anything good to share.
See you soon.

November wrap-up

2009-12-03T16:56:00.002+10:30

I'm a few days late but here I am.
Over the weekend, I flew up to the Word Writer's Fair which was held in Brisbane. I conducted a couple of the workshops which were running all day; one on jump-starting the imagination and the other on creating lovable characters. About 60 people attended the Fair, there were trading stalls, I made new contact with several people and had a good time.

I also attended a few workshops myself. The first was by Andrew Lansdown, whose new book of nature poetry, Birds in Mind, has just been published. From Andrew, I found out that I'm far more 'poetic' than I thought I was. He explained that the job of a poet is to make connections between the subject of a poem and something else that on the surface seems entirely unrelated. Of course, we all know this sort of thing as similes and metaphors. Poets rely on these devices to illuminate their work. But as he spoke I realised that it's just the same for prose writers. It's easy to assume that because we don't write actual poetry, we don't have the same sort of creativity that they do. But writers of fiction and non-fiction alike use similes, metaphors, symbolism and other similar literary devices all the time. Just yesterday as I was typing away at my new manuscript, I mentioned that one of the female characters carried her heaviness of heart like an X-ray apron, or something of the sort. Most prose authors do. OK, so we may not be Shakespeares but I think we should still think of ourselves as creative as poets, my friends.

I also attended the workshop of Janelle Dyer, the author of "Yellow Zone," a novel concerning the end-times predicted in scripture. Hers was on characters too. When I found out that she and I had chosen the same topic, I initially felt a bit regretful. But I needn't have worried because we handled it in totally different ways. I like to run workshops a bit like a stand-up comedian. I find it easiest to give a spiel which includes one-liners and jokes here and there to raise a laugh. Then I have one or two short exercises at the end. Not so with Jan. Her workshop involved group participation from the start. Sheets of butcher's paper were flying around and she had us brainstorming in groups with our black textas. She'd prepared many hand-outs while I relied more on participants paying attention, adding their observations and taking notes. There is nothing superior or inferior about either way. The difference of presenters just adds to the freshness of the day.

That's the impression I came home with. We really should celebrate our differences. At the Writer's Fair, we were all people who consider that we've been given the same creative gift of working with words on paper. But our ways of expressing it were as diverse as possible. God surely uses the personalities, life experiences and passions of each individual to shine. The price of the registration included a free book of the registrants choice. There were five newly published works to choose from.

1) My "A Design of Gold" which anyone who follows this newsletter/blog would know is a contemporary drama/romance novel. I love these.
2) "Birds in Mind"; those wonderful nature poems by Andrew Lansdown which I've mentioned.
3) "Climbing Mountains", a non-fiction biography by Stacey Charbachi, who discovered a breast lump when she was eight months pregnant with her second child, which turned out to be cancer. It's a candid and warm description about her journey back to health and wholeness.
4) "Nerrilee's World", a lovely picture book about a little mermaid, which was written by my editor, Anne Hamilton, and illustrated by Sandra Templeton. Nerrilee is an Aussie mermaid for sure, when you read about all the sea creatures and plants around her home.
5) "Even Before you were Born", a collection of different people's reflections on pregnancy and birth. This is a diversity within one cover, including art, poetry, reflections and stories. I wrote a story for it, about when my oldest son was born.

So what a mixed assortment of great reads from people all using our creative gifts. I flew back home to Adelaide at 5.30am, feeling glad that I came.

October newsletter

2009-11-01T16:24:00.002+10:30

My new perspective
Here I am back again. I want my end of month wrap-ups to be upbeat. This reflection may seem sober but when I think about it, that's not really the case. It's a fact that hit me in the face this last week of October about the Christian book market in Australia. It's something that's been so obvious all along that I wonder it never hit me before. This awareness brought some sadness with it, but on the whole I think it has the potential to be very liberating. In short, Christian books is an industry that's not moving and I'm probably as "successful" in it as I'm ever going to be.

I've been working on my fiction ever since I was in my early twenties. All that time, in the back of mind I've hoped to make a name for myself and earn some money. Last week, the penny dropped that this may not ever be possible. I like to be optimistic, but I also need to be realistic. The set-up has long been bleak for Australian Christian authors of any genre, let alone fiction. Our two main national booksellers (Koorong and Word) seem to assume that local material won't sell very well. Australian produced writing carries a stigma. Sellers assume it will be colloquial and second rate, and therefore they don't bother to promote or highlight it in any way. They purchase a small number to get lost on their shelves collecting dust, and call that "supporting" Aussie authors. Rarely if ever does it get included in their catalogues. Hence, a vicious circle is created. Customers don't find Aussie books on the shelves because they don't know about them; and then sellers feel justified in saying that they don't sell. That's the scenario.

A friend of mine nailed it when she said that the bookstores are not there to create markets. They are there, in fact, to exploit the markets already created by writers. So unless a writer is a celebrity who will do more to support the bookstore than the reverse, the bookstores are not really interested. We assume our Christian bookstore chains exist for the purpose of outreach and evangelism, but sadly, they are first and foremost, businesses! In the past I would have considered this point of view cynical to the extreme. But after years of experiencing this, I now see it's wise and realistic. (Hey, having said this, I'd sure appreciate it if any Aussie readers who enjoyed my books would get onto the website of Koorong books and write reviews for them! We might as well try the best we can).

So here I am, almost through my thirties, and for the first time last week, I sat back and faced the fact that I probably won't ever grow 'successful' as a Christian fiction author. In fact if I keep going this way, I'll keep pouring in resources of money, time and creativity for very little return. It's been the same for over a decade. If I was "wise" in the common sense of the word, I'd choose to give up at this stage and do something else. Finding a full-time or part-time job outside of home would help financially. Several years back, we decided to put money into the publishing of my "Quenarden" series rather than put a deposit on a block of land. So my chosen calling; the occupation I'd hoped to become my "brilliant career" has actually cost us as a family. When I started thinking along these lines last week, my head started to ache and my spirits seemed to sag. I think that as well as being a calling, this has been a road of sacrifice.

Yet I'm going to keep on doing it for as long as I keep getting stories to tell! I have a wonderful, hard-working new publisher, Rochelle. I love writing stories. I really enjoy getting into my characters' heads. There is nothing like the euphoric feeling when people give me feedback that my books have blessed them. I like to think that these books are my contribution to God's goodness in the world; the way He's designed me to fulfil the Great Commission. Yeah, sure fiction can fulfil the Great Commission as well as anything else! The pen truly is mightier than the sword. If I worked in some office every day and had a great income but no chance to pursue my writing, I'd feel as if I'd missed something extremely precious. I'm glad I have a wonderful family who feel the same way.

So overall, my lifestyle is not going to change. The only thing that's going to have a complete turn-around is the way I think about things. God's priorities aren't a well-known name, expensive homes and holidays and money, after all. I'm going to stop thinking of my writing as a business and begin thinking of it as a ministry! That's what will make me happier. It's already begun to make a huge difference.

My parents had their Golden Wedding anniversary on October 24th

I was searching for a lovely card for them and discovered that there are not as many Golden Wedding cards as I expected in the shops. Perhaps its getting more unusual for couples for last 50 years in this day and age when separation and divorces touch more families than ever before. I thought I'd ask them their secret to a long, happy life together. As I expected, they made jokes without even thinking very hard. Mum said, "Keep your mouth shut" and "Agree a lot" and "Master the art of flattery." Dad said, "Figure out that she's the boss and don't forget your place." Yet as I was laughing, it occurred to me that this actually is their secret to going the distance. A sense of humour smooths out many rough patches.

My sister Julie bought them a music CD full of all the hit songs of 1959, the year they were married. She is very creative in getting the best presents. There must be a real gift to that. Not only does she come up with unusual ideas, she also finds places to purchase them. There must be more to it being happening to be in the right place at the right time, because I've tried to rely on that and it doesn't work so well for me.

A bit of interesting trivia; my parents were married on the day when TV first made it's debut in Australia. Our long-running Channel 9 went on air for the first time that night. The story goes that one of my uncles decided not to attend the wedding because of this.

Are you like the letter Q?

The reason I ask is because I've been reading a book in which the letter Q is typed in a font that makes it appear more like a quirky capital Q than the small "q" I'm used to seeing in the middle of words. Having noticed it once, I kept noticing Qs written in this way over and over on at least every second or third page. Words containing them came up all the time; equivalent, quilt, question, cheque, equal, quite, require, inadequacy, consequences, square, quality, and I just noticed that I used the word "quirky" quite unconsciously it in the second sentence of this reflection. There I go again with "quite".

Frankly, I didn't realise the letter Q is such a well-used letter in the English language. If anyone had asked me, I would've called it one of the rarer, more dispensable ones that we need to hold onto for a long time on our Scrabble palettes. I would've thought it just pops up on rare occasions to add a bit of variety. Now, to my surprise, I see that Q is far more versatile, handy and necessary than I would ever have imagined. I'd go so far as to say that if we ever dispensed with it (assuming that vowels, m, t, n and s are more important), we'd soon become unstuck and feel sorry.

In moments of discouragement, I tend to think of myself as a relatively useless person who doesn't do as much "important" stuff as others. Yet like Q, I do add my bit to the world. I look after my family, tell jokes that make people smile, write books that amuse and inspire, and I've been on hand to give people encouragement many times. If I wasn't around to do these things, the world surely would be a poorer place.

I'm surrounded by the sort of people who could be seen as an m or t or a. They are doctors, nurses, social workers, teachers, pastors and missionaries; the vital difference-makers doing tangible good. I've let myself feel guilty and inferior because I don't picture myself as a vital difference maker. But the letter Q has just shown me that we can be important in our own ways. We can provide the sort of uplift that is over in a flash but gifts people a happy lift. My function is to give people a break to have a smile and enjoy something I've said or written. Without the people who do this sort of simple thing, the world would be a far less spicy place. If you stop people like me (and maybe you too) doing what we do, the world would soon notice and demand us back. We're Qs! We're the simple encouragers, story-tellers and creators of beauty. Our quirkiness and quixotic qualities give the world a burst of unique fragrance!

See you next month. I'll be going to Brisbane for the Word Writer's fair in late November and will let you know what happens.

A change to come

2009-10-06T20:39:00.003+10:30

I've decided to change how I blog. Instead of trying to keep up a regular record of happenings and reflections as I've been doing since January 1st, 2006, I'll be blogging just once a month, in the last week of the month. It will still be here at the same address but more like a monthly newsletter. The reason is mainly a matter of time and priorities. I've been a bit burned-out. It's great that my new novel has just been published but I'm finding that good things can take their toll on your adrenals and fatigue level as much as not-so-good. I'm presently working on a manuscript, homeschooling my family, trying to begin a small party-plan business and teaching Blake's Sunday School class in three week blocks. At the same time there's housework and exercise to contend with too. To be honest, it's all been getting on top of me so I decided something has to slide but couldn't decide what.

I didn't want it to be my blog. I love my blog. I love the friends I've made. I love blogging the way I've been doing it until now. But when I came up with the idea of doing a monthly newsletter, I figured out that it'll be a nice compromise. I expect it to be better in many ways.

1) Anyone who'd like to visit here and leave a comment will have a more definite idea of when I'll be saying something, so you don't need to keep coming over to check.
2) I'll definitely have much more to say. After storing up my thoughts in a journal all month, I'll never get blog-freeze again.
3) I'll be able to devote more time to reading the posts of others, because the time I devote to blogs will be freed up.
4) My thoughts will be less scattered. I'll be more focused.
5) I guess it means there'll be only twelve posts/year. That'll be weird but I'm expecting they'll be longer, newsier and more interesting.

I've convinced myself! Now I can hardly wait until the last week of October for my first newsletter. I'll be back then.

One ingredient for happiness

2009-10-01T08:39:00.002+09:30

I was reading an interesting article about people in Iceland. It turns out psychologists have discovered they are population exceptionally high on the happiness scale. That seemed worth checking out for a place with such a bleak climate. When researchers went over there, their findings were very interesting. It seems Icelandic people don't have the same way of assessing failure and success as most of the western world. When people execute a task, they don't sit back and rate its merit as we do. And they don't have as many critics who come and tell them where they are falling short. They just get on with their work and have fun. As a result, it turns out there are more people who call themselves artists, writers and musicians. It is a very creative hub of the world.

I loved that. My first thought was, Well, how do they know when they need to improve? The more I pondered that, the more I thought it's not really an issue. When you love your work enough to pour lots of time and effort into it, you can't help improving. Improving is a natural process, like cream rising to the top of fresh milk. And why does it even matter if you're no Shakespeare or Beethoven or Picasso, as long as you're enjoying yourself? It comes down to the path you travel being as significant as the destination. If you don't begin these creative pursuits you want to try just because you think you don't have enough talent, think of the enjoyment you miss out on. I take my hat off to the population of Iceland. They're a wise nation.

As far as my own writing is concerned, I don't think about all those far more talented and celebrated authors. I just get on with what I enjoy. When people tell me that they loved reading my stories too, I think, Well, there you are. If I'd listened to my own misgivings, I wouldn't have been the only one missing out on a bit of fun.

Having mentioned Picasso, I found a wonderful quote by him. I am always doing what I can't do in order that I may learn how to do it. Maybe this attitude is what actually makes a master creator. Of course there's also the good old quote by Goethe, Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
By the way, copies of my new book "A Design of Gold" have arrived, if anybody would like to check out my website.

Weight of social expectations

2009-09-21T20:09:00.003+09:30

We don't get the paper but last week when I was visiting my parents, I had a skim through theirs. Here's one of the feature articles in the Adelaide Advertiser that day.

OBESE IS THE NEW NORMAL!

I'd seen something about that finding on TV during the week too. You know, the sort of thing that tries to shame tubby people by showing their stomachs hanging over their belts as they walk down the street. The newspaper write-up was just a follow-up on that. I'm sure we've all read and seen lots like it. Anybody who doesn't watch their weight should be ashamed of themselves. How could you possibly let yourself get like that? It's more than just a health risk. It's a bad example to the younger generations. People like you should make an effort to get trim because you are a blot on our society.

My question is how come our society gets off scot-free? Our society makes it easy for people to gain a few pounds or kilos in a twinkle. We walk into supermarkets and there are gorgeous towers of Tim Tam biscuits and Mint Slices and Pascal's marshmallows gleaming beautifully at the end of every aisle. There are chocolate advertisements as soon as you leave the car-park and step on the escalator into the shopping centre. There are people cooking samples of wonderful shaker pancakes or chocolate mousses or Nanna's apple pies waiting to pounce on us with their little paper sample plates and plastic spoons, saying, "This is so easy to mix up, and it's on special!" Our society's message seems to be, "You've had a long day, you deserve to relax tonight. Just grab a packet of bite sized Mars Bars to nibble while you read." Our society doesn't behave like one which is concerned about its peoples' health. It behaves more like one which runs on supply and demand, economic greed, give people what they want. Our society encourages us to socialize with friends over cake and coffee.

You might argue, "Society is doing its bit! Look at the thousands of fitness clubs out there for proof." But have you considered that the fitness clubs are happy when people over-indulge in all the tasty, unhealthy food society has to offer? That's when people come and use their services. If most people were trim, taut and terrific, then it'd be a worry for the fitness clubs.

If our society was really serious about helping people lose weight and get healthy, it would urge entrepreneurs to set up alternative supermarkets for weight watchers. They'd be supermarkets that don't stock junk food, or else keep them low on the shelves and not in people's faces.

I'm speaking as a person who's experienced both sides of the weight spectrum. I know what it's like to be anorexic with hair falling out and icy cold hands and feet at all times, and I also know what it's like to have a bit of a muffin top and want to lose a few kilos. At the time, I took full responsibility for being foolish enough to get myself so unreasonably skinny. I've also taken the blame upon myself to let the kilos creep around my waist practically overnight. But perhaps that blame shouldn't be entirely mine. Some of it must go to society; yes, that same society that claims to be encouraging us to be healthy. My point is just to point out how sick I am of our society that enables and even encourages us to indulge, and then shovels the blame entirely on us individuals when we don't look exactly that way it would like us to.

The Clever Old Woman

2009-09-15T20:59:00.002+09:30

OK, here's a challenge for my blog readers. It's a brain teaser. See if you come up with the correct answer. Here goes.

Long ago in the days when people used candles to light their houses, there lived an old woman. She was poor but very clever. She thought of many ways to save money. One way she saved money was by making new candles from old ones. She found that one quarter of a candle never burned because it was inside the candle holder. Most people just threw away these unburned candle stubs but the old woman saved hers. By melting four of these stubs she could make one new candle.

One day the old woman went to the candle maker's shop and bought sixteen candles. How many new candles could she make from the left over stubs of the sixteen candles?

NOW STOP READING AND WORK IT OUT.

I confess that nobody in our family (including Dad) got the correct answer. We all took it on face value as a simple maths question and said the answer was four candles. Did anybody work out the correct answer, which is five candles?

The clever old woman made five new candles. Every four candles gave her four quarters from which to make one new candle. So from the sixteen candles she made four new ones. I guess we all got that far. But those four candles also gave her four quarters from which she could make a fifth candle.

We found a great book full of this sort of puzzle from a second hand shop. If anybody likes this sort of thing, I'll post more from time to time.

Talking about our generations

2009-09-14T11:32:00.003+09:30

After a bit of waiting, we've finally got our new computer. It's a nice desk top one. The last two we've had have been lap tops. After being initially impressed by the size, I found they weren't really as gutsy and reliable as desk tops in my opinion. My dh was out when I went to pick it up so my ds1, Logan, set it up. Sometimes I wonder at his deftness at this sort of thing. I've been his main homeschooling teacher for several years and I've certainly never taught him all of this computer knowledge because I don't know much about them. I think it's incredible that the younger generation seem to have been born with this built-in part of their brain that knows all about computers!

Then I came across an article in the newspaper which makes a lot of sense and seems to explain it. Through the ages, each of the generations seems to have born with more innate technological knowledge than the one which came before. In a nutshell, here they are.

The Builders (born 1920 - 1945) This is my parents' generation. They lived through the Great Depression and WW2. As a result of living it tough in their childhood and youth, they exhibit a strong work ethic and financial frugality. They built the current infrastructure, institutions and the economy.

The Baby Boomers (born 1946 - 1964) My older brother and sister surprisingly fit into this one, having been born in the early 60s. I would have guessed that all the babies born as a result of returning soldiers might have been over by then but apparently not. This generation was born into an era of freedom and financial prosperity. They are characterised as being vocal on social issues and liberal in outlook. I guess you'd have to say the Baby Boomers are probably the generation to have 'invented' computers.

Generation X (born 1965 - 1979) This is the one I fit into. We're portrayed as being cynical about traditional authority and open to new forms of communality but with underlying fear of the financial future as well as threats such as terrorism. I would say we're the 'guinea pigs' of new technology such as computers. I can remember the teachers writing on blackboards with chalk during my earliest Primary School years. I can remember thinking my electric typewriter was just perfect during my mid to late secondary years. I think I can probably pin point when computers took off. It was about 1985 onwards, yet I never owned one until I got married in 1992. Now I have fun telling my kids all about how much more annoying it used to be to research assignments during my school days. If our class had to research Shakespeare, for example, we'd have to rely on the World Book encyclopaedias in the school library. The quickest and luckiest would grab the "S" ones straight away. The rest of us had to use our creativity and search for things like E for Elizabethan theatre instead. If anyone had told us about the internet and Wikipedia, where everyone can research from his own home, we would have been awed.

Generation Y (born 1980 - 1994) I have a couple of nephews and a niece in this one. In a work sense, they've been labelled as a fickle, flighty "me-now" generation, based on the tendency to blend work and study and regarded as superficial and driven by consumerism. Very computer-canny and smart. To me, they often appear far more sure of themselves and their direction than I ever was. They seem to have more of an air of maturity than I used to, and are more comfortable in their own skins.

Generation Z (born 1995 - 2009) This is the one my kids fit into. Logan just scrapes in, being born in February '95. We never realised there was such a thing as Generation Z until we read this article. Reared in the social networking and user-driven content era, they are extremely tech-savvy, creative and confident with a strong work ethic and financial conservatism. Even more so than Generation Y. They think this might be a result of having more mature parents (because the Gen Xs who are their parents tend to have many of their children at a later age than their own Builder and Baby Boomer parents before them).

Generation Alpha (to begin January 1st, 2010) We'll just have to wait to see how these turn out. They will mostly be the children of Gen Y it would seem.

I find this sort of research interesting. Human traits are essentially universal across the ages of course, yet I see these generational differences play out over and over again. My Builder parents have retained their Depression, work-hard-and-don't-spend-too-much mentality, as if they're not really living in the real world but still in some historical time period of the past. Mum will comment, "That's a lot of money for a book," when she's talking about quite a normal price. She seems to still think they should be sixpence or tuppence or something from her pre-decimal era.

And the Builders and some Baby Boomers are still very rigid about teaching things like rules and grammar and mathematics parrot fashion. My first editor, who was an older lady, commented that in her opinion, it was obvious that I'm from Generation X. Apparently we are the first generation who weren't taught this sort of thing with such strict legality at school. True enough, my English lessons emphasised the thoughts and feelings of characters rather than pulling every sentence apart to work out what each of the words are.

I've noticed that while Gen Y seem far smarter and more confident than me in some ways, they sometimes display a lack of general knowledge, or trivia. When I did my radio interview, the lady remarked that Gen Y tend to use far many more 'ums and ahs' which she has to edit out of the recording.

Perhaps each generation learns the skills they need to know in the society in which they live. It amuses me when my "Builder" father expresses concern that our kids might not be as brightly educated as he used to be at their age, but then relies on my Y and Z nephews and sons to help him trouble shoot and fix all his computer problems. What we can learn from each other is immense.

What makes a Christian 'show'?

2009-09-07T20:29:00.002+09:30

My normal computer has recently crashed, so I haven't been able to reply to any emails or work on Word for the past week. The man who's been building a new one for us has been slower to deliver than he'd said he would be. Andrew doesn't care but I hate that. I'm getting a bit frustrated and stressed. But here I am on another old computer, able to blog at least.

I've been pondering the above question of what makes a Christian show because my frustration over the computer has made me feel tetchy and not very kind. I like to type each chapter of my new story up as soon as I type them, but I haven't been able to do that and they're logging up. It shows me that it's so much easier to be happy and behave in a Christian manner when we have nothing to frustrate us. Nobody would necessarily recognise me as a Christian this week! But annoying circumstances liked crashed computers shouldn't make all that much difference in a person's outlook. Jesus said we need to let our lights shine at all times. How does this show in our lives? Accepting our saviour is such an inner, personal business, especially when we don't find opportunity to talk about our beliefs openly each day. Are there signs that identify a Christian straight off? I believe there are two.

1) They have all the fruits of the Holy Spirit operating out of their personality.
Love (as opposed to hate, resentment, jealousy and envy)
Joy (as opposed to depression and misery)
Peace (as opposed to turmoil and anxiety)
Patience (as opposed to impatience and short temper)
Kindness (as opposed to selfishness)
Goodness (as opposed to wickedness, strife)
Faithfulness (as opposed to fear and dread)
Gentleness (as opposed to harshness)
Self-control (as opposed to short temper, emotionalism, panic)

I think it's really useful to remind myself of the fruits of the Spirit every so often. When we don't, so many of the counter-fruits find room to sprout up without our knowledge. And when we look at a list like that above, we can easily see where we're beginning to get a little off track.

2) You can see that God's promises are being worked out in their lives. Their needs are being met. They are not sick, broke and needy like the rest of the world. God's will is clearly taking place on earth as it is in heaven in their lives, as they depend on His promises. They are clearly children of the new covenant.

During an altar call at church week before last, I was sitting there toying with the idea of going out the front for prayer when a quick thought occurred to me. I thought, "I shouldn't sit here, year after year wondering whether I ought to respond to altar calls." I hate to admit this. I'd never given it much thought before but I'd been coming to church for most of twenty odd years (I'd become a Christian when I was 17) with a needy mindset! I'd always attend hoping to "get something out of" the message or prayer. Now, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that! Christians are there to reach out to others after all. But we're not to meant to remain in that needy condition!

True Christians aren't like dry, parched trickles but deep, flowing wells. Instead of being anxious that I'm not going to have my needs met and wanting to have the reassurance of prayer from others, I should be trusting that I'm having all of my needs met by God. When I'm coming from that strong, God-dependant mindset, I'm more able to give of myself to others.

That doesn't mean we need to lapse into the trap of relying on our own good works (which might be a form of neediness in itself). When we keep giving and giving through our own strength we get dry and exhausted. I've been there. I don't think this busy sort of giving is necessarily what God intended. Proper giving is simply through being the people we are. Just living our daily lives with deep love for God and the fruits of the Spirit, and then doing what we want to do, it seems we can't help giving to others as a by-product.

I've been giving this a bit of thought this week. Hope it strikes a chord with some of you too.

The Coffee Pot

2009-08-24T16:09:00.004+09:30

I love stories that make points. I also have the background of a classic worrier. I was brought up that way. My parents are great but they have always been either tied up with some problem or fear, or else searching for one, because life is just too weird and empty for them when there isn't something to worry about. It's interesting that patterns like this, which aren't formally taught, are the sorts of lessons that kids 'catch.' For several years, fearful possibilities have seemed to zoom into my head without my going out of my way to think of them. Even though I've come a long way, I still have to be on my guard.

As I approach my 40th birthday in December (I was born on Christmas Eve 1969), I'm aiming to weed this sort of catastrophic thinking out of my brainwaves completely. At the moment I have to admit that even though I've developed skills to deal with them when they come up, I'd far prefer it if they stopped coming up needing to be dealt with. But I know that would take nothing short of some sort of brain transplant. I know that is possible, and that the key to this is in the Biblical instruction to let our minds be renewed. So I decided that if this is to be achieved, the Word of God in the Bible is going to have to be the means of doing it. People like me (and maybe some of you) are the sort of people who have to make a full-on decision that God's Word is true, His promises found within are certain, and no circumstances will make us think the opposite.

So here's this story about the coffee pot that makes me understand the thing is possible. It's from a book called "Overcoming Doubt" by Neil T Anderson.

"Think of your mind as a coffee pot. You desire the water inside to be pure but unfortunately you have added coffee grounds. There is no way to filter out the coffee once it has been added so the water inside becomes dark and polluted. Sitting beside the coffee pot is a huge bowl of crystal-clear ice which represents the Word of God. You can only put in one or two cubes so your efforts at clearing up the dark, polluted water seem futile at first. But over the course of time the water begins to look less polluted. When you taste the water to which you once added coffee grounds you can hardly taste or smell the presence of coffee anymore. The process works provided you stop putting in more coffee grounds."

He assures us that the was is winnable. But we must fill our minds with the crystal-clear word of God. There is no alternative plan. Just trying to stop thinking fearful thoughts won't work. And rebuking obsessive thoughts alone won't work either. So I'm continuing the process of replacing those coffee grounds daily and at the end of the year, we'll see how far I've come.

Oh, off the topic, the cover design for my new book "A Design of Gold" is now up on my website, in the toolbar under New Book Coming Soon. Please see what you think of it!

A Tourist's Eyes

2009-08-14T20:45:00.003+09:30

I was feeling a bit homebound lately. Not homeward bound but bound to the home. For months we've been meaning to take off for a quick get-away. A few opportunities have come up but fallen through. My sister and her boys were going to stay at a holiday house near Mount Gambier and we were going to join them, but they decided to go somewhere else with other people instead. Then my in-laws invited us to stay at a holiday house at Whyalla with them but Andrew was busy with his master builder's course and a few other work related things so we didn't go. (My sister-in-law and her family, who did manage to go, tell us they had a wonderful relaxing time.)

I was brought up with parents who loved to take holidays. I've been as far as Europe with Mum and Dad. Then Andrew and I have tried to take driving breaks whenever we could, one of the most memorable being up to the Sunshine Coast of Queensland and back down the coast with the kids in 2004. It makes me feel restless not going. I even bought a luggage set which was for sale at a terrific discount a few weeks ago which makes my feet feel even itchier. And I started feeling sorry for Blake, my youngest, because he hasn't had the travelling opportunities that Logan and Emma had. When we did that wonderful trip, he was only two months old.

However, last week I met a friend who I never catch up with very often at a coffee shop on our own main street. She suggested we meet at a lovely little place I've never been into before. It has quite a small shop front so I'd never even noticed it. It's called Sazon Cafe and has a real feel of the Meditteranean about it. The little alcove I sat in has a mirror on the wall which reflected the colourful leadlight window with its morning sunshine perfectly. And the scrumptious drink I had seemed straight from the movie, Chocolat! It was called Mexican hot cholocate, and was full of exotic spices. So I went away feeling as if at least I had a mini-break.

Still feeling refreshed when I got home, I took the kids up for a long hike on top of our own local Mount Lofty Summit. It was a lovely bright winter's day with the beginning of a spring feeling in the air. Wildflowers are beginning to bloom, the panoramic view from up high is fantastic and even Logan, who'd been a bit annoyed at being dragged away from Saturday afternoon football, enjoyed himself. We went into the tourist centre, which has a great outdoor lookout over the whole of Adelaide far down beneath us. Not a bad day out for just the cost of a $2 car park.

Andrew was busy that day and hadn't been able to join us so yesterday, when he had a day off, we took another walk in the local Mount Lofty Botanic Gardens, which has all sorts of rugged hiking trails. We can see that the bushes, such as rhododendrons and azaleas, will be out in full colour in a matter of weeks so we'll go back then too.

It made me remember that last week, when I was invited to speak at a ladies group event with two other authors, the lady who'd organised it asked to say about why I chose our own local Adelaide Hills as settings for my novels. After thinking about it, I said that I'd taken Jane Austen's advice to heart. She said to write about what you were most familiar with. I love reading books that are set in exotic places, but if I stick to what I know, I could be helping make the Adelaide Hills an exotic place for others. I often see artists set up their easels here, so I'd like to do it justice with my own medium; words. I've never come across many other novels that are set in my part of the world. We can all try to put our own area on the map in our own way.

So if we can't get away, the next best thing is to try looking at your own area through touristy sort of eyes. (We do hope to make it away for the week in the beginning of September, though. We'll have to see what happens.)

Watermelon Seeds

2009-08-08T20:10:00.002+09:30

OK, my busy few days continued on into a busy week. Rochelle, my new publisher and friend, stayed with us for two days and nights while she helped me get "Light the Dark" started. That is a party plan based business which sells Christian products created by Australian authors and artists. I am one of the South Australian reps. I will be taking my wonderful bag of products around to show ladies (and/or gentlemen) at gatherings. I am very excited about it.

But I'm the sort of person who needs a fair bit of quiet space. If there is too much sustained excitement, my head spins. I've sometimes felt guilty about that, but it's never changed so I've had to carefully examine my priorities and schedule this week. If I keep a calm head and focus on each of these commitments in their own turn without worrying about the others, I'll be right. My passions are God, my family and my writing, which I believe He's given me to do. I now consider "Light the Dark" part of helping promote my own writing along with the skills of others. I also teach Blake's Sunday School class, King's Kids, in three week blocks every few months. None of this is particularly easy, but I believe they are all worthwhile things that will bear fruit.

I remembered how a lady speaker I heard told us how annoyed she used to get eating watermelon because she had to spit out the seeds and it seemed so fiddly. She preferred eating to be quick and easy. So she was pleased when the seedless watermelon variety was produced and couldn't wait to get stuck into a juicy slab. Yet this turned out to be relatively tasteless compared to the sweeter, juicier red melon with seeds that she was used to. I agree with her on that. Even the colour of the normal watermelon with seeds is bolder and more ruby-red. She found out that the seedless watermelon varieties are sterile. Once eaten, that's the finish of them. The producers have to engineer more. She now sticks to watermelon with seeds.

Her point was that it's the same with the work we do. Satan tempts us with easy stuff which may require more pleasure and less effort than other things. This turns out to be sterile in the end. That work that God plans for us is bound to be filled with a aggravating seeds but if we stick to it faithfully, it leads to life.

I've been reading "Anne of Avonlea" with my daughter at night and quote Anne Shirley, who declared that "Everything worth having takes some work"

Next few days

2009-07-30T18:25:00.004+09:30

It'll be busy around my place for the next two days. Tomorrow I'll be driving down early to the airport to pick up Rochelle, a friend and houseguest from Brisbane. She will have her 6-month-old baby, Constance with her. My daughter is very excited at the prospect of having a baby girl with us for two days. Rochelle is going to publish my book "A Design of Gold" in October! That's very exciting. The details of her brand new Christian publishing house are in the Links section of my website. She's also the driving force behind "Light the Dark," the new party plan company that sells Christian books, gifts and products created by Aussies.

We'll be holding one "Light the Dark" info afternoon at my house tomorrow afternoon and in the evening I've been invited to speak along with two other ladies at a church function for ladies at a local Adelaide Hills church. Then on Saturday afternoon we'll have another "Light the Dark" session. On Sunday morning I'll be dropping Rochelle and Constance back to the airport by 6.10. It's all going to be great fun but those who know me can probably guess that three back-to-back events is a huge boost of excitement in my normally calm routine. I wonder what the effect on me will be.

I'm hoping Adelaide will put on its best display of winter weather. Since my last post, that rain has been steading drumming down every day. I've been rolling Emma's guinea pigs' hutch into the shed every night so the little things don't turn into furry icicles. Andrew thinks I'm spoiling them, but I don't want to take the chance of them catching colds and getting sick. The mud by the shed door has been churned up by the hutch's wheels. It's all good, of course. Just the way our old winters used to be. But I've been watching the national weather and Brisbane has been having sunny, 22 degree days. Adelaide really is a beautiful city but I can understand that a Queenslander, who comes from the state where it's "beautiful one day and perfect the next" might not realise that's true. I wouldn't want her to get the impression that it's freezing, wet and bleak! But that's just part of the Adelaide's rich tapestry.

I'll be back next week with my usual blogging.

An abundance of rain

2009-07-16T15:20:00.010+09:30

We've been suffering a serious drought for four or five years but I'm happy to say that it seems to be over in our little part of Australia. Just recently we've enjoyed days and days of heavy rainfall which has transformed our familiar area into a water-world I'd never even imagined. This is a creek at the end of our street which is powdery dry for most of the year. For the last 3 or 4 winters it's only produced a bit of a trickle but when I took Blake out for a walk at the end of the day yesterday it looked as if we were in an entirely different place more like Holland or Venice.

And the road was flooded! For years those gates which say, "This road is subject to flooding" have been permanently open and we've laughed. I couldn't believe what I saw! We hurried home to get the other two kids to come down for a look.

The sound of gushing was incredible. Now that's what I call a creek! I could watch it for ages.

I guess it takes something like a bad drought to make people smile and rejoice in the middle of a cold, wet winter. Emma even did a bit of paddling on the road. Many neighbourhood people were around. It was a cause of great awe and celebration.

And it looks as if there's even more to come. It's fantastic! Those clouds couldn't get any heavier.

A book of devotions I've been reading speak of rainfall representing God's generous abundance. It says He doesn't want to just dampen us with a little of his bounty but pour it down until it saturates us, like these clouds. And when it comes down to earth, it doesn't return to heaven without fulfulling its purpose of refreshing and brightening the countryside.

Another book I have is "The Blood and the Glory" by Billye Brim. She was living in Israel during one of their worst droughts on record. She said that scientists were making dire reports about the status of the Sea of Galilee every day on the news. I knew just what she meant because it's been the same over here with news reports about our Murray River. And then there was a sudden miracle rainfall! Newspaper headlines in huge type read "NES NES NES" which means "MIRACLE" The sea of Galilee overflowed its banks, and scientists had predicted that it would take years to fill up in normal rainy seasons. The Jordan swelled and rolled as it must have done in Biblical days.

What caught my imagination about this story is that the Judean desert bloomed. It was such an unseasonal miracle rainfall that the desert was blanketed with bright flowers. She said exotic seed sprouted that nobody even knew was down there. I love that because it can be so much like our lives. We each of us contain seed that may have been dormant for so long they seem unlikely ever to create anything good, but then they bloom all of a sudden.

Just now, I'm experiencing a bit of a downpour in another area of my life. My mind is being saturated with ideas for a new novel. "Risky Way Home" was published late last year, "A Design of Gold" will be published within the next few months and I thought I'd be relaxing and clean out of ideas, but they've just started flowing for something entirely new. I have the whole concept even down to its name, "A Clean Slate" and I'm up to chapter 5 in my writing of it. The ideas are springing into my head like those flowers in the Judean desert. I can't honestly give myself credit for creating when the ideas just appear like this. All I'm doing is being a scribe. So my notebook is filling up each day, my characters are living, I can hear their voices and laughter. I absolutely this part of writing.

I guess writer's block is a bit like a drought. I've had it before and tried to press through it, but I think it's something like a true climate drought. You can't really do much about it in your own strength and I've learned not to try. And what I'm experiencing now is like an abundance of rain. This abundance will surely occupy me for the next several months to a year and I'll enjoy every moment.

2009-07-15T08:21:00.004+09:30

I was honoured and surprised to receive this gorgeous award not once but twice from two fellow Aussie bloggers. They are both terrific writers.

Narelle from Moments for Mum writes devotions that are specifically tailored to meet the needs of busy mothers. Her thoughts highlight topics that are close to all of our hearts and keeps reminding us of our most valuable priorities. She's published a great book of these reflections that I finished very quickly because they are so friendly and easy to read, (see her blog on my toolbar for details). Narelle is planning to release another one in time for next Mother's Day.

Janet has been publishing "Footprints" magazine for several years now, full of wonderful stories, articles, letters, reflections, reviews, tips and more. It always lifts my spirits to find the lastest issue in my letterbox. How often do we find anything that good in the post? How often do we get anything that is not a bill or a dental reminder or an advertising circular or a bank statement?

So before I hand on this award to others, I thought I'd give both these ladies a pat on the back through cyber-space for using their skills with words to so directly bless so many people.

Now, the rules are that we hand this award onto 15 other blogs and drop the bloggers a line to let them know that they've received it. 15 is a lot of blogs so I'll go for 4 of my favourites. These ladies know that I think their blogs are lovely because I've been following them for quite a few years now.

That is Kate, Cristina, Carrie and Comfy. You ladies all bless me with your thoughts on homeschooling and philosophy and just being able to share the glimpses of your lives from so far away. Thanks for the great reading you've given me, and all that which is still to come.

Funny about some retail people

2009-07-11T17:41:00.004+09:30

My daughter and I were browsing through a 2nd-hand shop on a rainy day last week. It's the Community Aid shop in Aldgate, one of my very favourites. We found some good winter clothes, a gorgeous candle holder and some cheap books. The lady recognises us because we've been in before. She's a very chatty lady. She saw that we had some Christian books in our pile and said, 'A lady just donated a stack of Christian books 5 minutes ago while you were browsing upstairs. They're here on the counter.'

Well, on the very top was my own book, "The Risky Way Home." I got all excited and said, 'Hey, that's my book!' Come to think of it, that might not have been worth getting excited about. It meant that somebody preferred to drop it off at a good will shop rather than keep it! I wonder who that donater was!! If I been down a few moments earlier, I would have seen! But the shop lady didn't seem at all interested. 'Oh, is it? Well, that's nice, isn't it?' I've had a similar experience with shop people before. When I mention that one of my books is on their shelf, they turn cool and hardly glance at it. What is it with retail people? Do they have to spend so long selling things that they don't want to bother hearing about any of it? Most times now, I prefer not to say anything at all.

But since I had mentioned it, I thought I'd say a bit more. I told her that it was a romance novel set in the Adelaide Hills in case she thought that might interest her customers. Her shop is in the heart of the Hills, after all. Can't get more local than that. 'Mmm, that's nice, dear.' I went off feeling a bit embarrassed and flat.

On the way home, I thought about my choice of words. I'd said, 'Hey, that's my book!' Maybe I should have said, 'Hey, I wrote that book!' She might have thought that it was simply a book that I have on my shelf. In that case, she must have thought I was a pretty excitable sort of person! I suppse it doesn't matter if my big announcement goes over like a lead balloon as long as somebody who'll enjoy it buys it.

But it made me think about the whole process of getting goods into the hands of customers. If the sellers of goods took a bit more interest, the producers of goods might find it easier to sell their volume far quicker!

Collecting too much manna!

2009-07-03T09:12:00.002+09:30

The kids and I include Bible study as part of our curriculum and last week we read Exodus 16. God instructed Moses to tell the Israelites to gather enough manna to last for just one day. Some of them disobeyed and collected enough to put aside for the next couple of days. To them it seemed wise. They were planning ahead, cutting the length of time they'd have to be out working the following day and giving themselves an illusion of control in case God changed His mind and didn't provide any for the following day. It seemed wise but was really based on a lack mentality! Of course we all know that the extra manna ended up going off and getting full of weevils. And God clearly could not be pleased by this.

This reminded me where I often get things wrong and go off-track. So many times when I've felt down in spirit, soul and body (because they're all connected), I've stepped back and realised that I'm holding the weight of tomorrow along with that of today! That's too heavy for anyone. We're asked to live each day as it comes and do what lies directly before us. Even when it's a long term job (such as raising a family or writing a book), we only need to do today's part today. That's why God split up time in a number of many little 24-hour compartments.

My thoughts sometimes run along these lines. 'It's going to be so hectic next month! What if the book shops don't sell any of my books, and then they won't buy any more from me? How will I help Logan (oldest son) to work out what his ambitions are, since he's already 14 and doesn't seem to have many?" I came to see this sort of thinking all involves bearing tomorrow's weight today.

A little book I was reading explained that when we dread or anticipate events in our thoughts, it's just as we're going through the pain or doing all the hard work more than once! That was enough for me. It'll be taxing and tiring enough to get there where the time comes. I'm certainly not to wear myself out going there over and over in my thoughts!

My tribute to Michael Jackson

2009-06-30T08:59:00.002+09:30

Like the rest of the world, I've been very melancholy and sad this past week. I always feel this way when I hear of somebody with brilliance and everything at their feet ending up wasting themselves and dying prematurely. He still had far too much to give the world. But when I think about it, how could it be any other way? He was a victim of fame, seeming to prove that no matter how we elevate a person, they are only flesh and blood like all the rest of us.

He never knew a normal lifestyle like most of us. He was in the spotlight from the time he was six years old. I actually don't remember those Jackson 5 days but I've heard some of their music and would have loved to have been around back then. My personal experience of Michael Jackson's music begins in the early 80s with albums such as Thriller. But my point is, how can a person who has known nothing but fame and adulation manage to cope during those times when it looks like popularity is waning and album sales are getting lower? It would be foreign to anything he'd ever imagined and nobody could expect him to.

Another thing, how do you expect a person to come up with more stage theatrics and sensationalism when it looked as if he'd already given his absolute all early on in his career? He'd already thrilled his fans by being shot above the heads of the crowd like a rocket! He took upon the added pressure of trying to keep coming up with enough to keep satisfying the thrill seekers. No wonder he crumpled! No wonder he began making some weird personal lifestyle choices! I sould like a psychologist but it's so easy to understand. I really feel terribly sorry for him because in a way, all his life he has been a victim of other people's whims and fancies.

We watched a special documentary on his life last night and I wanted to cry several times. He looked so stunning and fantastic around the time he was in his early twenties. It's been sad to watch what he's done to himself. I don't know how true it is, but they said on the news last night that the coroner's report found nothing in his stomach but drugs, needle pricks covering his body and he only weighed 50 kilograms. He was a tortured soul and may he rest in peace.

One thing is clear, this proves again that we cannot control our own destinies. I supposed God could have said, "OK Michael, I'll wait until you finish your concert tour," but He didn't. Now ticket sellers have the monumental task of trying to refund purchasers. We humans make many, many plans but times like this show that our control is an illusion.

Perhaps one of the saddest parts of the whole documentary was the recent press conference at the end, when Michael Jackson, already looking gaunt and spent, said, "I'll see you in July!"

Stories and White Space

2009-06-22T16:18:00.003+09:30

My husband began reading a new novel last night and commented that the author had used several long words in the first couple of pages. He said it was hard to figure out what was going on because trying to work out all the meanings interrupted the flow of the story. It seems to be a very descriptive historical novel, and the author has proven that she is smart but not that she is a good writer, in his opinion.

It reminds me of similar novels I've tried to read in the past. It's sometime true of books that have won prestigious prizes. The intelluctuals on the judging panels like them but the normal population won't necessarily agree with them. These books are brilliant and clever but not necessarily inviting to read.

Sometimes authors use slabs and slabs of description and imagery when I'd rather just skip all that and find out what's going to happen in the story. It reminds me of the nineteenth century classics I used to study in English lessons at school and Uni. I read once that writers like Charles Dickens needed to provide lots of descriptive slabs because TV was still a thing of the future. For example, you might find that Dickens spent five pages describing the interior of a lawyer's office, but that was because he knew that many of his readers would have no idea what a lawyer's office might contain. We in the 21st century however, have seen enough TV shows to hazard a pretty good guess of what you might find in there, so we can dispense with all the description. To readers in the 1800s it was necessary, but to us it may become tedious.

Somebody once pointed out that we 21st century readers tend to unconsciously search for "white space" when we're perusing books to buy. If a page is filled with blocks of chunky paragraphs, we instinctively get the idea that reading it may become a bit 'heavy' and require lots of concentration. When description is sparse and dialogue is plentiful, there is often lots of white space at the end of lines. Readers only need a glance to get the impression that this story will be fast-moving and easy to read. I've never forgotten that lesson because I immediately knew that it's true in my case.

When it comes to my own novels, I like to write stories that appeal to me. I consider myself to be a fairly typical representative of the population so if I like it, it's not unreasonable to hope that many other normal people will like them too.

My Radio Interview!

2009-06-17T14:29:00.002+09:30

The week before last, I went down to through the city to the other side of town to have a radio interview on Life FM, Adelaide's Christian based radio station. It was a fantastic experience. My daughter came in with me and we were shown around the radio station after doing the interview. Here are some of the highlights.

1) We were there on a Thursday morning but the interview wasn't broadcasted until the following morning. I was part of the Friday line-up. Jayne, who interviewed me, showed us the schedule, and how songs, interviews and ads are all carefully time-slotted days in advance to give the impromptu impression listening to the radio usually gives.

2) The microphone was so large and I had to put my mouth right next to it. She said there's no way anybody could be too close.

3) This was most disconcerting; I had to put my notes away! Anybody who's seen the sort of public speaker I am would know that I'm usually bound to my notes. I never move away from the podium and I keep looking down to read bits out. I've always been convinced that if I don't do this, I'll miss things that I'm supposed to say. I thought it'd be easy to read off what I came prepared with but Jayne told me that it came across better when I was simply talking naturally, as we had been doing before we started. She said that if I'd written it all down, it was bound to be in my head anyway. I wasn't convinced by this. In my experience, things easily freeze out of my head when I'm on the spot or in a panic, but I was willing to give it a go. Speaking off the cuff without any notes at all is something I've never done before.

4) I didn't even know what questions she would ask me. Jayne Lochert turned out to be a very smooth-flowing, impromptu sort of person herself who told me at the outset that she often doesn't even know what she'll ask a person until they're there with her on the spot.

5) Emma liked the look of the room with all the stacks and stacks of music. I would've liked a look around myself, as I love the music they play.

6) We learned that they never put two Christian songs back to back. In each group of songs they aim for a Christian artist, a song from the nineties and a song from the eighties. Maybe that's why I enjoy listening to Life FM so much.

7) Finally, she offered to email the interview to me to put on our own website. I hadn't been expecting anything like that. We've tried different ways to get it on and finally succeeded. Logan put the two parts of the interview on You Tube and Andrew got in onto our website.

So here's an invitation to you. Would you like to hear it? Just get into my website (from my blog toolbar) click on "Interview with Paula" and at the very bottom of that page you'll find my interview with Jayne Lochert. I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Keep in mind, please be easy on me as I was way out of my comfort zone with no written notes in front of me.

What would you do?

2009-06-12T11:20:00.003+09:30

I had terrible problems with a back molar tooth last week.

This is the very back one on the upper right hand side. It's had a deep filling in the past and the dentist has said that it was close to the nerve and might cause future problems. Well, it started doing little twinges a few months ago which I ignored because I knew that would mean the last resort -root canal- which I didn't want to hear.

To cut a long story short, it began throbbing very severely and very suddenly as I lay in bed last Tuesday night. So bad in fact that I couldn't get back to sleep. Taking paracetemol only seemed to take the edge off the problem for a very little while at first and soon seemed to have no effect at all. I might as well have been swallowing lollies.

I tried to get into my local dentist but they were full up. I managed to contact the local dental emergency service at our local hospital. They do nothing unless you're in agony. By then, the intense pain was throbbing right through the tooth, gum and cheekbone so that touching it made me wince, so I managed to give a pretty good description. The lady told me to come to collect an authority for an emergency visit to any dental surgery I could manage to squeeze an appointment with. Just after I picked up the form I felt a sudden crack in that tooth, and found myself holding the old filling in my hand. Then there was a massive hole when I felt it with my tongue but at least the pain had eased somewhat.

I managed to get into a dental chair at about 3.30. At first I thought it might be OK. The dentist started saying, "Perhaps I only need to replace that filling. That'd be your best scenario." But as he started digging around back there, he said, "This doesn't look good at all." I hate it when you're lying flat on your back and dentists start saying that sort of thing! He said, "The nerve has just about worn away. No wonder you've been having trouble. I can give you two options, an extraction or root canal therapy, and I think I can save that tooth so I'd suggest the latter but you'll be looking at $1100. Today I'll just begin the treatment and you'll find the pain will lessen very quickly."

So here's the position I'm in now. The tooth is no longer aching or even twinging. I'm sitting here with the beginning of a root canal in my mouth but find that I can't stand the thought of paying over a thousand dollars on a back tooth! It never sees the light of day even when I smile. At this stage I choose to opt for the extraction. Some people have been saying, "Once it's gone, you'll never have it back." But my sister had a back molar extracted once rather than paying for a root canal and she says she's never missed that tooth. Since my dh has been studying and doing odd jobs rather than working a full-time job money has been very scarce. We've had the household incentive payment from the government so if I really wanted to, we could spend a chunk of that on the tooth, but there are so many other great and sorely-needed things that money could be spent on, including curriculum, clothes and decent shoes for growing feet. Hence my question, what would YOU do?

In fact, does anybody know a bit about dentistry. I'm on a waiting list to have a cheap dental check-up at the local hospital but my name probably won't come up for over 18 months. If I could go around with the start of this root canal in my mouth for that long I would. Do you think this temporary measure would last for a year or more? At the moment, I'm still expecting it'll be the extraction in about a month.

Emma's Baptism

2009-06-05T18:51:00.007+09:30

Emma was baptised in church last Sunday. I went into the baptism tank to help lower her. Her grandfather (my father-in-law), a retired pastor, baptised her. I told a bit of Emma's history. Here is my message about her.

Emma's story started before she was even born. In the early to mid 90s I had a history of sudden early miscarriages. Nobody ever worked out why and it's still a mystery.

Back when Logan, our eldest, was about 2 years old we were given several prophetic words by people which we clung to. A visiting pastor prayed for us out the front and asked if we had any children at all. When I replied, "Yes, a little boy," he said, "How would you like a little girl?" We prayed with him, and determined to stand on that promise and believe, but it was another eighteen months before we saw any results.

Another friend, Elva, seemed to have a connection straight to God on the subject. She said, "You're going to have another baby and it's burning my heart to tell you." Then she got anxious herself when nothing happened for so long except more miscarriages. Finally, she woke up one night in early 1998 with a clear thought, "Paula's pregnant!" And I only found out myself two weeks later.

Elva always knew we'd have a girl. On November 11th, when she was born, my parents, who were looking after Logan, received several phone calls from people, including Elva, who just knew that something was happening.

Emma's a real joy and delight with a natural cheerfulness and busyness. When she was just a half hour old she was looking around the hospital room, more curious than I imagined such a new baby could be. And when she was just a few months old she'd sing at church with a really loud baby noise. She's always had a bright smiling face.

She's the sort of person who's an example to all of us because of the joy that bubbles up from inside her. She's satisfied with whatever's going on. When there's no fun happening, she'll make up her own. Her enthusiasm is always good for the more intense people who live with her. She's a lovely splash of femininity in a family of boys.

Another thing about Emma is her love for anything beautiful. Her sense of awe is well developed and it's been wonderful to see her love and appreciation for God grow. I know He must be working a wonderful plan for her and we look forward to seeing it unfold.

Good on you, Emma!

Hey, how about the winners?

2009-06-01T08:24:00.002+09:30

We all know by now that Susan Boyle didn't win "Britain has Talent." It's spread all through the media. "Susan Boyle comes second! Susan Boyle is runner-up. Unfortunately, Boyle misses title!" But what I thought sadly curious is that the winners received no accolades at all. Not down here, anyway. All I know is they were a dancing troupe but I don't think I even heard or saw their name mentioned on the media. They deserve a bit of a plug too, don't they? The guys just won a national title!!

Susan Boyle is a remarkable lady with an inspirational story and a wonderful voice. We all know that by now. But these dancers obviously put hours and hours of blood, sweat and tears into their act too. I hope they haven't had the gloss rubbed off their victory by the way the world media has brushed them to the side to focus on their rival.

I saw something similar in the Autralian Open Tennis this summer, when Rafael Nadal apologised to the crowd for beating Roger Federer. If I had the chance to have something broadcast, I'd say, "How about a bit of sportsmanship?"

Stress Plus!

2009-05-22T17:21:00.002+09:30

I heard that a review of my book, The Risky Way Home, is included in the latest "Christian Woman" magazine, and decided to visit our city Christian book store when I went to take my daughter down to her art class on Wednesday. I dropped the boys off at my parents' house too. Mum was out with friends and I knew Dad would appreciate it if Logan was around to help him look after Blake. At last I was able to go to Koorong bookshop. Emma is getting baptised on Sunday morning (which will soon be the subject of another blog) and I wanted to pick up a few presents for her, too.

Unfortunately they didn't have the magazine, and were all sold out of the lovely jewellery that Emma likes. I browsed for quite awhile and chose a couple of lovely books for her. Then at 5.15 I knew it was time to go and get her, as her art class finishes at 5.45. I thought I was leaving in plenty of time but didn't allow for peak hour traffic. It was getting dark and the traffic was bumper to bumper! I came across every red light and sometimes had to wait for two or three changes before I could move. When I could move I could only crawl. Time was ticking away on my watch and I knew I'd be pushing it to make it back on time. That wouldn't be good, as Emma would have to sit around wondering what had happened to me and the boys would be waiting to find out what had happened too. I hate to think that people are worrying about me and felt my stress levels rising. I started to pray that somehow I'd be back just a little late to get Emma. Eventually it looked as if that wouldn't happen so I changed it to ask that nobody would be stressed about when I'd turn up.

At last I got to Emma's art lesson and found that almost every other mother was just arriving, and running up the driveway too. And Emma told me that Eileen, the teacher, had just remarked, "Everyone is running late tonight." It surprises me that a prayer can be answered but not the way I expect.

It turned out that Logan had got a bit worried but he managed a smile when we got there. Logan is a bit of a stress-head, as I've been in the past and tend to still be when I don't stop to reflect.

The moral of this story: Don't underestimate peak hour traffic. What may take a leisurely half hour at 2.15 may take far, far longer at 5.15. And of course, when it comes to answered prayer, just relax when you've prayed, knowing that you've done all you can and expect the unexpected.

The things people do for a bit of money!

2009-05-13T10:39:00.002+09:30

We bit off more than we could chew last week!

Several weeks ago I found in our letter box a flyer looking for people to drop catalogues into letter boxes to earn good $$$$$$$ in their own district. It sounded like something that might be good for us so I logged onto their website and left my details. I imagined strolling leisurely for a few hours, enjoying the fresh air and being paid for it. In due time, a lady phoned offering a catalogue route that includes our street. The last person who did it had just hurt her back. It seems there is a pretty fast turn-over of deliverers and now I know why.

My daughter and I went to this lady's house on Monday evening and found a Mount Everest of catalogues waiting for us. It included 9 different types, including thick catalogues from Cheap as Chips and other emporiums as well as vouchers from Dominos that needed to be folded. Our job was to take them home, prepare individual rolls comprised of each of the 9 which we were to rubber band, and then have them all delivered by Wednesday at midnight. Then we were to return on Friday night and repeat the whole thing, finishing the next delivery by Sunday night. "You'll get $100 from this," she told us. Then she gave us a map of our section, which seemed to include a third of Mt Barker spanning several kilometres! I had misgivings on the spot but Emma and I lugged them into the car and they filled the whole back seat to the roof.

So that night, Logan, Emma and I were standing around the table preparing the rolls which took absolutely hours! Rubber bands were snapping, the couch was getting piled, our fingers were inky and hard to bend. And my husband was telling me, "If you'd put this much time into promoting and selling your books, it'd be great." And I said, "We haven't even started delivering yet."

Next morning we got up early, crammed bags full of catalogues into the car boot and back seat and got going. I'd drop Logan off at one cul-de-sac and Emma at another, and Blake would go with whoever he chose. I'd do another section and drive back around to pick the others up. After the first couple of streets, the kids were still saying, "This isn't too bad," but I knew it wouldn't take long for the novelty to wear off. After a few hours and several steep hills it had turned to, "My feet hurt!" and "This is a rip-off" That last comment came when we figured out that after splitting the money four ways, we'd each get only $25 for all our hard work! We went home for a quick lunch break and then got back onto the job in the afternoon.

We traipsed through very flash new sub-divisions with multi-storey homes. These were the steepest and hardest, as these people pay for the magnificent views on their lovely blocks of land. Then there were the older, poorer areas where the letter-boxes were rusty and many of the houses in need of repair jobs. This area has a gipsyish sort of charm of its own. So many homes have old, faded couches out on their porches and whimsical wind-chimes and decorations hanging from their eaves and rusting old car bodies and horse floats in their overgrown yards. I found it interesting to think that every week, people from all sections of Mt Barker rub shoulders in the shopping centre. It brought home what a varied demographic area we live in. We just didn't want to do it twice every week for a measly $25 each. Especially when we reminded each other that this would fill each and every week-end, rain and shine, as well as mid-week. Only one of us had a wow of a time and that was Blake. I think even he would soon get sick and tired of it.

So it wasn't a difficult decision to chalk this up to experience and give in our notice already. The lady didn't sound surprised. When a job keeps 4 people (or rather 3, as Blake wasn't all that much help), working flat-out for far more than 10 hours for only $100 when normal award wages for one person is around $18/hour, getting calluses on our fingers and blisters on our feet, it needs to be re-thought. Especially as it actually ended up guzzling a fair bit of petrol in the car. It turns out that lots of short, spasmodic drives in one area is as costly as a long, steady drive down to the city. Andrew worked out that at that rate, we were being paid less than 1cent/catalogue roll.

Anyway, good has come out of it. The kids are aware that there are better jobs out there than delivering catalogues, I am keen to put just as much times into writing ventures for better pay, and whenever we find our rolls of catalogues from now on (for someone has taken over from us already), we spare a thought for the poor delivery people.

A little, miracle word

2009-05-11T22:49:00.002+09:30

Here's an excerpt from a book on creating writing that I was reading by Elizabeth George. I've read several books on the craft of writing over the years and when I come across some good, wise advice I like to jot it down. I think what she says here is particularly useful because most people fall into this trap. We can't help it. So often we're taught to do it at Primary School.

"Sometimes a writer just starting out thinks that she needs to be especially creative with her tag lines, believing that the repetition of 'said' lacks snap and personality. Actually, 'said' is a little miracle word that no-one should abandon. When a writer uses 'said' in a tag line, the reader's eye skips right over it. The brain takes in the name of the speaker, while the accompanying verb - providing it's the word 'said', simply gets discarded. To a large extent so do 'asked', 'answered' and 'replied.'
But that isn't the case with all those fancier tag lines (snarl, moan, snap, hiss, wail, whine, whimper, shout, groan, sneer, growl, etc.) These call attention to themselves. You must use them with the realisation that they will leap out at the reader. When the writing is really doing its job, the reader will be aware that someone is shouting, snarling, thundering, moaning and groaning. The scene will build up to it so the writer doesn't have to use obvious words to indicate the manner in which the speaker is speaking."

This is so true. It's part of the best advice I've received over the years, which is that simplicity adds strength, and complexity and wordiness often weakens. When I mentioned this to a group of Primary School teachers once when I was talking about editing your own work, they were very surprised but they could see the wisdom behind it. "We always give students extra ticks for being descriptive and the longer the word, the better."

I've also learned to steer of adverbs in most cases. Those are the frilly words that describe a verb. Some writer once mentioned that they sound so great and descriptive but are an author's downfall. Words such as sadly, angrily, happily, merrily and furiously all should get the flick.

"The mouse scurried hastily behind the clock." Of course he did! Do you need to mention it? That's implicit in the word "scurried." "The mouse scurried behind the clock," will suffice.
Same with, "Grandpa chuckled indulgently at his grandchildren." It's good to come across advice that helps us to relax and be less complex rather than more.

Doll's Houses and Bamboo Trees

2009-04-26T17:26:00.002+09:30

During the week I came across a few neat little analogies to help us keep working faithfully toward our goals, even when we can't see much in the way of results.

The first was in an email from a friend. She wrote to tell us about the Chinese bamboo tree. For the first five years of its growth it puts out a tiny shoot that doesn't seem to change. Although it looks as if absolutely nothing is happening, it still needs regular water during this long stage. All of its development is underground where we can't see what is going on, but at the end of the five years it suddenly has a massive growth spurt. In the space of 5 weeks it grows to over 30 metres tall. She encouraged us to remember the bamboo tree and keep watering our dreams, even when it seems as if nothing is happening. They will surely grow with persistance but one thing is certain; they will wither if we give up watering.

The second was from some notes I'd taken at a conference a couple of years ago. It's about a pastor whose little girl asked him to build her a doll's house. He fobbed her off by promising to do it, but kept on working on his sermon notes. Then he noticed that his daughter was busy getting things ready to put in the doll's house. She was collecting all her furniture together and excitedly digging around in the toy box for her favourite dolls. The father's conscience began to prickle him. Although he'd intended to do nothing that day, her obvious faith and trust in his word motivated him to put aside his works, go out to his shed and begin work on the doll's house. The speaker encouraged us that it's a bit like this with us and God. We must start working toward our goals and visions even when it appears as if nothing's moving to all intents and purposes, and He'll be pleased by our faith in Him and move on our behalf. If we aren't prepared to do this much, we can't expect Him to take us seriously and work on our behalf.

These little stories work for me. I'm the sort of person who is naturally impatient for results, and the occupations I've chosen, writing and homeschooling, both require lots and lots of patience. Both have long periods when it looks as if nothing is happening. But I keep watering; I keep getting ready for that doll's house. Any good things are worth working and waiting for.

17 Again

2009-04-22T18:29:00.002+09:30

Last night Emma and I took a break from all the boys and went to see this movie. It got the thumbs up from both of us. I like the relaxing, heart-warming sort of movie that you can just enjoy without getting bogged down with heavy, depressing themes. And predictability is one of my favourite things sometimes. Of course we all know that by the end of his turning-back-time experience, our hero, Mike O'Donnell, will reconcile his differences with his wife. I found it very amusing to imagine that Matthew Perry ever looked like Zac Effron. We're big fans of both.

I'm highlighting this movie on my blog because I think it's a good choice for homeschoolers. It certainly cures me of any wild thoughts of ever sending my children to High School. One of Logan's archery friends who attends our local High School told him it's a 'hole from the pit of hell.' Whoa, the school in this movie, Hayden High I think it was, probably leaves Mount Barker High for dead. So in the first place, it reinforces our decision to keep our kids out of that pit!

There's a great scene when Mike (in his 17yo old body with his 37yo dad outlook) ticks off his Health class when the teacher distributes condoms to each member of the class. The bully grabs a handful, sneers at Mike and says, "I'll bet he doesn't even need one!" And Mike jumps out of his seat and declares, "You're right, I don't need one! Do you know why? I'm not in love!" And he goes on with his spiel to say that, in his opinion, they shouldn't even be used outside of marriage. It's a great, stirring speech that makes you want to cheer him on.

Without being a plot spoiler, I like how he comes to realise what is really important to him. A common theme but still a good one. I have to admit to a few smiles when he turns 37 again, declares his undying love for his wife and regrets his folly of not appreciating her more. Being a "Friends" fan, it seemed like a real Chandler Bing moment and seemed a bit weird not to see Monica walk in. But I won't hesitate to borrow that movie when it comes out on DVD and that's probably my highest recommendation.

It also made me imagine how I'd behave if I turned 17 again. It was 1987. I remember that year as one of the hardest of my life. I was doing my last year at High School, dreading the possibility of getting fat or not getting into university. Like Mike O'Donnell, I think if I had the chance I'd attempt to change my 17y0 experience by not being a perfectionistic, anorexic little stick insect. I'd know that even if I'd never busted myself to get into Uni, I'd no doubt be doing the exact same thing right now. I think this movie probably does show those of us who are parents and nudging 40 that during all those hectic years, we actually have gained a bit of wisdom. They were certainly not wasted years. And to walk out of the cinema with that knowledge is more than I'd expected.

Prophets and Writers

2009-04-17T16:09:00.002+09:30

I was doing some Bible reading and 1Corinthians 14: 3 seemed to leap out at me for some reason. It said, "The person who prophesies speaks to people for edification, encouragement and consolation."

I'd probably read over it many times before without wanting to step back and zoom in on that verse specifically. The reason it stood out now is because I've been wondering how to answer the question, 'What's the point of writing romantic and/or fantasy fiction?' I'd decided the best answer is that it's just fun. I enjoy telling the stories and I like it when others enjoy reading them. I'd decided that must be enough. Then 1Cor 14: 3 popped up. I like that idea about speaking to people for edification and consolation but especially encouragement. I thought, "Prophets and writers might have something in common." And then I remembered something a good friend of mine wrote in an email a few weeks back. She'd been talking about that very thing.

"Our ability to put words together as a message for others is a prophetic gift. All creative/performing arts are. As prophets we speak forth or express God's message to audience or readership He calls us to move in. We need to be bold like prophets and not grow weary."

I love that. Although in the past I've sometimes been sad that writers aren't mentioned specifically in lists of spiritual gifts, it may be because writers and prophets share the same taproot. This is a thought that encourages me to push on and not lose heart, like Isaiah and Jeremiah of old who were certainly not always received favourably (in fact most often the very opposite.) Writers and prophets share the same purpose. We proclaim God's message. Even something as unlikely as romance and fantasy can do this.

The Good News version of 1Cor 14: 3 says "The one who proclaims God's message speaks to people and gives them help, encouragement and comfort." Even a good romance story can do that in its own way!

I loved the comments and feedback on my post about dual blogs. I'd been intending to diversify and begin another blog but have decided to stick with just one for the time being. It's new name, Faith, Family and Fiction reflects all of my passions. (Homeschooling will be including Family to stick with the alliteration). After this post I can clearly see how they can easily overlap anyway, so if I had two blogs, I'd find it tricky to work out where to put them. Hence my decision to stick with one for now.

A lesson in perspective (or rude awakening)

2009-04-09T22:14:00.002+09:30

Here's a funny little episode just before Easter.

My 10yo daughter needed a new pair of shoes so we visited Spendless, our cheapest shoe store. And after trying several pairs, I decided on a nice little white leather pair with cute buttons on their buckles. But when we got to the car, Emma didn't seem completely happy. She grumbled, "I don't like those buttons. They look so old-ladyish to me." We all assured her that we didn't think so at all.

Then today we visited a friend of mine in her mid-30s who has little twin baby girls who Emma loves. This friend noticed Emma's new shoes and said, "I had a pair exactly the same but they've just broken and I was a bit sad." So on the way home I tried to comfort Emma. "See, April had exactly the same pair so they're not old-ladyish at all."

Emma gave me a sideways look that spoke volumes. She said, "Mum, you and April are old. I want to wear shoes that people aged 15 to 20 would wear." And she rattled off a list of young girls in the music or movie scene whose footwear she'd rather pattern. So there we have it. When we move into our 30s we have no idea that our fingers are no longer quite on the pulse until our daughters let us know. To me, old-ladyish shoes would be the slip-on type my mother, who is now in her 70s, would wear. A timely reminder that I've left the young, trendy generation some time ago. But when I think back to the angst I used to suffer then, I don't think I'd really want to be there.

Multiple Blogs

2009-04-02T16:12:00.002+10:30

As you may have gathered from my extended absence, the editing continues. But this is not about that saga.

I've been thinking of beginning another blog after reading an article about the benefit of multiple blogs. The man who wrote it believes that every blogger should keep one blog for each of his passions. He says this inspires us to keep up to date with each of our passions. It pushes us to keep learning because we can only post something on our blogs if we do. The responsibility to update our blogs gives us the necessary pressure to keep learning.

I found this interesting because I'd been thinking this blog is a bit of a mongrel, so to speak. Even before I came across this article, I knew there was no theme to it. I talk about homeschooling issues, about writing and about my faith and family. If I really want to take his idea to the extreme, I could have four blogs, one for each of the above. But that makes me baulk straight away. Sometimes it's enough to upkeep one blog, let alone four!

But I was toying with the idea of beginning a brand new blog specifically about creative writing to encourage all writers, because I believe we are a forgotten, hardworking part of the population who really needs encouraging. I'm sure I could find enough to say about the subject to keep a blog going. I'd keep this current blog for faith and family posts. And I'd begin a brand new blog about writing. But my question is this. Would people necessarily want to read two blogs by me?

I know some of you have been keeping two blogs successfully for months, even years. What I want to ask my multiple blogging friends is this? Do you feel keeping two blogs is worth the effort? Do you get traffic to each of them? And if I started a new blog on writing, would you visit it? Will be interested to see what you have to say.

I can think of few friends who each keep two very different themed blogs

Up to my eyes in editing!

2009-03-22T17:02:00.003+10:30

Sorry, good friends, that I haven't been blogging for a few weeks. Until I looked at my last date I had no idea how long it had been. But the fact is, I'm up to the stage of having my most recent manuscript, "A Design of Gold" edited and I've been working on the changes I need to make.

Editing is always a very humbling experience. Since I've started writing my books I've had input from four different editors, Judy, Pat, Alison and Wendy. I could make it six if I include Suzanne, my proof-reader for the Quenarden series who was just as sharp and cluey as an editor, and Andrew, my husband, who always gives me suggestions and tips whenever he reads anything before I've sent it to the editors.

Letting a m/s go unedited would be a foolish move. Each time I've been over it myself until I've thought, "Surely they won't find much," but they always do! And very, very rarely is it anything to do with punctuation. Yet often people assume that punctuation is probably an editor's main job.

The most daunting sort of editing is the storyline editing. When I wrote my first Quenarden novel, my editor Alison explained why I needed to totally change and re-write slabs of the story. To start with, I didn't have a large enough distinction between the dialect of the Quenardians and that of the three teenaged protagonists who suddenly entered their world from a rock crack in a cliff. They all seemed to be using similar modern vernacular, which wouldn't be the case for the Quenardians, who had generally all lived isolated in that land for several generations. So I went through every page and changed the dialect of every native born Quenardian to my own sort of Celtic-cum-old Scottish/English patois. I don't know much about different dialects but I figured that as Quenarden was my country, it could be more unique than anything else people had come across. And it seemed to work. But it took awhile to change every single conversation in the book.

The second change was making my villain nastier. They told me, "Pythos is a wuss!" I had to work on making him seem far more menacing to readers from the start, and that was a challenge. For those who don't know, he's dragon-reptilian type of intelligent creature. I'd already given him semi-transparent orange skin so that horrified humans could watch his digestive system working. But apparently that was only the start. I needed to work on the menacing quality of his person.

I eventually achieved this by shifting around episodes in the book, like one of those square puzzles where you keep moving the panels around to form the picture. Beginning on page 60, Troy, Beth and Nathan had their first encounter with Pythos' evil henchmen, the Harrison brothers. A man named Joseph O'Donnell was selected randomly from the crowd to be a human sacrifice to Pythos. Originally, I'd slotted this little anecdote much later in the book. My editors figured out that bringing it in earlier would make a far greater impact before we even came to our first introduction with Pythos himself.

Without going into it, I re-wrote so much! I added more details to the first Race for Freedom (and anybody who's read them will know what I'm talking about.) I made Beth and Nathan's escape from Pythos' mountain headquarters far more suspenseful, with more breathtaking danger. And keep in mind that all this was after I'd already thought it was pretty good. Humbling, as I told you.

Another thing that editors do is to just change a few words or sentences for the better. Authors are so close to our own writing, we know exactly what we're trying to convey and assume that readers will too. Not the case.

Towards the end of the book, when the spent and battered Nathan is brought face to face with the terrified Pedor, the repentent traitor, I had Pythos bellow, "I believe you boys already know each other!" My editor suggested that I change it to "No introductions needed, I believe." The first wording, she felt, sounded too much like a "jolly old uncle."

And in another episode, Troy had a bit of a dig at Nathan, who had been teasing him. Levi asked, "Were you a hero where you came from, Troy?" to which I had him reply, "No, I wasn't. This is just Nathan's idea of sick humour." The editor suggested that I change the order of just two words so it became, "This is just Nathan's sick idea of humour!" I liked it much better.

As for my recent, "The Risky Way Home" I was advised to ruthlessly tear out several episodes, losing page after page of text. The heroine's sister Abby was having marital problems with her husband Jeff, and I'd intended for their story to be a bit of a sub-plot. My editor said, "No, slash it out! We don't care about them. We only care about Casey and Piers. This just interrupts the action we really care about." So several hours of wasted work went to the trash but I did it happily in the interests of having a nicer, tighter story.

Needless to say, "A Design of Gold" has been up for lots of reworking too. (My editor, Wendy's blog is in my tool bar, "Scribe of Spirit") She sent me an email saying, "Your standard is slipping, Paula. You need to re-write several sections before I can edit them." And she also suggested that I either turn one of my male characters into a female or re-write some of the action sequences so that a female has more involvement. "Don't forget you're writing for the women's market." Now, that made my stomach lurch to just think about it! I was aghast. I'd got fond of my boy and coudn't contemplate turning him into a girl! They are real friends and family to me. It'd be like turning one of my two sons into a second daughter! To cut a long story short, I suggested an alternative which meant I wouldn't have to make the sacrifices. She was happy with it, as long as I filled it with plenty of drama. So re-writing is what I've been doing all last week. I'll say no more, as I don't want to say too much about the plot of my as yet un-published book. (Wendy, if you read this, hi! I hope it the story's OK)

Whew, that's my excuse for neglecting the blog. If it's a little on the long side, just consider that I'm making up for not doing it for some time. And I think all this proves that there's no way a writer who gets thoroughly edited can possibly get a swelled head.

A Wonderful Mistake

2009-03-09T10:22:00.003+10:30

I've sometimes been afraid to step out and make a move in any direction for fear that I'd be doing the wrong thing. I know the saying that God can only direct a moving car and not a parked one, yet I've still chosen to remain firmly parked, jotting down possible pros and cons, trying to figure things out. What usually happens is that my head just spins and I'm even more frustrated and confused, having known all along that the pros and cons for both sides are what makes a decision difficult in the first place. I've felt envious of friends and acquaintances who state, "After prayer I just knew deep in my bones that the right thing to do would be...." So with big or medium sized decisions, and sometimes even small ones, I've been a procrastinator.

It's embarrassing to make mistakes. Just a few moments ago in fact, one of Logan's friends phoned to ask if he could come and have a play on the computer. Thinking that school holidays must be earlier than I'd expected, I told him that although we're pretty busy today (Monday), he's welcome to come on Thursday. He sounded a bit dubious about that, and then when I hung up, it struck me that school holidays won't even begin until after Easter. Today is simply a public holiday long weekend for the Adelaide Cup horse race. So I phoned back, explained my confusion and asked him if he'd like to come on Saturday. Even that sort of little thing makes me feel like a muddle-headed, dizzy homeschooling mum who's out of touch with the rest of the world. It's not pleasant to imagine how I must appear to other people. No wonder I hesitate to step out on the big stuff.

Not long ago, I found a statement in a book I was reading that we shouldn't be afraid to step out because God can even use our mistakes! It was a nice thought and I wanted to think it's true. Well, over the weekend I read a true story that confirms it absolutely.

It was about Mr Alfred Nobel, the Swedish instigator of the Nobel Peace Prize. He'd become a multi-millionaire from his work producing dynamite. Over breakfast one day, he opened the morning paper and was shocked to see his own obituary in the classifieds. The editor of the paper had mistakenly thought he'd died. When Nobel got over his initial shock, he was upset to find that his obituary was not very flattering. In spite of his success, he'd been labelled as a rude and selfish man who had no time for others. That became the catalyst for him to change his life around before it became too late. Establishing the Nobel Peace Prize, thereby giving huge chunks of his wealth away in aid of great humanitarian causes changed his personal legacy completely. When we think of the name Nobel, what do we immediately think of? How ironic to learn that the man whose name is most associated with worldwide peace earned his fortune in something as un-peaceful as dynamite!

I guess when the newspaper editor discovered his mistake, he would've thought, "Oh yikes!" and wanted to sink into a hole in the ground and never come out again. As far as mistakes go, that was a pretty big one. But look at the good that came out of it. Perhaps it's a good thing to just make the best prayerful, informed decisions we can and then step out without looking back, trusting them to come alright.

A serendipitous discovery

2009-03-04T13:02:00.002+10:30

For a few months now, my husband has been wanting a good eyecatching visual header for our website. Last Saturday he was playing saxophone at a small local art gallery and a photographer friend of ours named Betty showed up while they band were taking a break. It occurred to Andrew to ask her on the spot whether or not she'd be able to put her thinking cap on and come up with a good photo image for Apple Leaf Books some time in the future. Betty immediately told him that she already had some! She'd been out just the previous week with a friend to take photos of grapevines. On their drive home they passed some apple orchards and thought they'd stop and take a few photos just for fun. The apples were bright, the leaves were healthy and they thought they'd make good photos. So she was delighted to come across some old friends who needed just what she had, and we, of course, were thrilled with the face lift to our website and blog. Because of course when we had the new header on the website I wanted to spruce up my blog too.

I love serendipitous moments and divine appointments. This is just a little one but still a sign that we're doing a good thing, moving in the right direction and being guided.

Quite a Dilemma

2009-02-25T09:28:00.002+10:30

Last week I had the foreign news going on TV in the background and a story came up about a little baby who was born with 6 fingers on each hand and 6 toes on each foot. It seems nobody had noticed for several moments until his parents, who had been giving him a good cuddle, looked down with a great shock. But he was gorgeous and the six fingers and toes were all straight and absolutely perfect. I saw a 6-fingered little girl in "The Guinness Book of World Records" but her 6th digits were bent and crooked. Not so with this little boy.

Now, of course, they are wondering if they ought to do anything or nothing at all. They are aware that as he grows, he may be teased by his peer group if they leave him with all 24 fingers and toes. On the other hand, as they are perfect, there is no medical reason to amputate any of them. I said, "I wouldn't touch them. I'd leave them just as they are and tell him he's special." But my son Logan said, "If it was me, I'd want you to cut them off. I wouldn't want them and when I got old enough, I'd be mad if you left them." So that makes the situation trickier. You're dealing with the future of somebody who is not yet old enough to make his own decisions.

But one of the doctors who was interviewed has been urging the parents to consider leaving them. "Think what an advantage a six-fingered pianist would have!" That swayed me again. If God and nature have given this boy a remarkable gift, who are we to tamper with it simply because of what people (including the boy himself, I suppose) might think? I can quite understand the mother, who actually said, "I just haven't got my head around it yet." I really felt for her and her husband, having that decision to make.

What would YOU do? Personally, I still think I might have left them, and Logan can count himself fortunate that he was born with just five digits on each hand and foot if that's his point of view.

Dreams must be Loved

2009-02-19T22:17:00.003+10:30

I've been hearing a lot about following dreams lately. A friend of mine was sharing how she'd come up with a brand new dream that really excited and motivated her. The interesting part was that it was the first time she'd ever felt that way. She realised that all the ideas she'd called dreams in the past turned out to be nothing more than thinking a particular action might be a good idea. I knew just where she was coming from. I realised that I've often experienced the phenomenon of wanting to want do something that sounds good. And you can just about convince yourself that it really is your dream, but deep down you know the truth.

About the same time I was reading a biography of Albert Einstein that I borrowed from the library. I thought I'd stretch my horizons and give my brain a work-out. It was too much for me. A lot of the quantum physics and theory of relativity material might as well have been written in Ancient Greek or Double Dutch as far as I was concerned. I'd expected that, but I wanted to get something out of the book anyway. And I did! It all tied in with this business about having dreams that you can love.

When Einstein was 13 years old, a friend of the family who went to university used to lend him university text books. And young Albert used to devour them. He looked forward to going to bed so he could read more of such stuff as "The Critique of Pure Reason" by Immanuel Kant, as if it was a novel! And he looked forward to the visits of his Uni friend so that he could get his hands on more! Heavy, detailed Maths text books were some of his very favourites. To quote the book, "It brought him intense pleasure and made him happy."

I thought of my own son who is about the same age. Although he can handle Year 8 & 9 Maths, he'd far rather not! And I was exactly the same. We understand that we must plough through it, to meet possible future exam requirements but it is certainly not exciting and stimulating. No way could we stimulate a passion for Mathematics in our hearts, and I'm sure it's because God didn't plant it there. He has other plans for people like us.

God has promised that when we delight ourselves in Him and commit our ways to Him, He will grant us the desires of our hearts (Psalm 37: 4-5). It's great to think that this is because when we delight ourselves in Him, we can't avoid finding out what our passions are, because He has planted them there. We didn't ask for them. We were born with them. But God must have got them right because we wouldn't change them if we had the chance, no matter how hard they get to follow. That's why he promises to give us the desires of our heart when we follow Him, because He wants to make life easy for us by letting us like the path He has planned for us.

To sum up, I saw a movie last week in which the hero, who was a talented guitarist, put it aside to concentrate on earning money in his business, which didn't inspire him at all. At one part, his eccentric uncle said, "Have you considered the reason why so many things you touch turn bad is because you're touching the wrong things?"

Money, Money & More Money!

2009-02-11T12:16:00.003+10:30

Did I grab anyone's attention with this title? I'm afraid this isn't what I have flowing into my bank account (not yet), but I wish that it was. I'm freely admitting, after having battled with the prosperity concept for years, that I wish I was wealthy.

I've known many Christians who feel too "humble" to pray for wealth. We've clung to such Scriptures as 1Titus 6:10 (the love of money is the root of all evil), Matthew 6:24 (You cannot serve both God and Money), and 1Peter 5:2 (Be not greedy for money but eager to serve.) We've felt that we glorify God best by being content with what we have. After all, that's what Paul the Apostle tells us to do in Philippians 4: 12-13. I've bought into an ascetic sort of notion that I should be happy in my poverty because a desire for more would be showing greed, which God would not be happy with. I've even spoken of my humble circumstances to others with a sort of spiritual pride. You know, the "We can't afford it but look how we're eking out on what God provides us,' sort of thing. Or "Look at all we're doing without! I'll bet so-&-so would be fuming if they had to live on OUR income!"

But as I continued writing and publishing, I could not deny that I certainly WOULD like to increase my cashflow. It'd be GREAT to be able to re-print "Picking up the Pieces" already instead of needing to wait "until we have the money!" I have an idea that that day is like the proverbial "tomorrow." It never comes. But I WANT it to come! It is wonderful when poor folk pray and God comes through at the 11th hour with sudden help from an unexpected source. But I couldn't help thinking it'd be even more wonderful if we didn't need to rely on this sort of miracle. I love to imagine that we run such a blessed and flourishing concern that we're able to print books whenever we felt like it. I'm sure that writing is God's calling on my life, but if I'm halted because of finances, His plans are thwarted.

At first I whispered, "I want to be wealthy enough to do this well," wondering if it was OK. Is increasing my wealth really something I should be praying for? I feel that the answer is a definite YES. To begin with, I know you've all heard about the horrific bushfires which have ravaged our state of Victoria these past few weeks. Watching the faces on the News of victims whose loved-ones have been burned to death is more than I can stand. And there is an appeal going around for money to be able to support bushfire victims. They're saying, "Come on South Aussies, we know the Vics would get behind us if the situation was reversed." And how I'd love to be in the position to donate thousands and thousands to this appeal out of our abundance. But we're not. That's when it hit me that having a cash base for good works is not worldly at all. It is a God-given blessing to enable us to bless others.

Maybe we cling to those Scriptures I mentioned without really getting the point of them. It's the love of money that is the root of all evil, not money itself. God doesn't want us to become attached to it at the cost of giving up our reliance on Him, but He does bless it with it to be used for great purposes. We forget that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, David and Solomon, to name a few, were all blessed with abundance as a sign of God's favour. Why did He do it? Because He knew they'd be good stewards.

Deuteronomy 8:18 is a verse that we shouldn't forget. "Remember the Lord your God for it is He who gives you the ability to produce wealth and so confirms His covenant which He swore to your forefathers, as it is today." Speaking of covenenants, we mustn't forget that Jesus died to deliver us from sin, disease AND poverty. "He became poor so that we might become rich" might not be talking just about the airy-fairy, inner-soul sort of richness so many of us think.

I've been praying for ways to promote Apple Leaf Books, and came up with an Apple Leaf Club. You'll see the details in my toolbar soon. I'll finish off with a quote which I think very apt.

If you want to help the poor, don't be one of them!

Happy Birthday Logan

2009-02-05T16:03:00.003+10:30

Yesterday our eldest turned 14! It may sound trite to say this but it's absolutely true, it seems like just the other day when he was born. I thought that in honor of the day, I'd fill this post with a bit of Logan-lore, some from way back and some more recently.

He's always been verbally skilled. Even as a toddler before he learned to read, he easily memorised several of his favourite books, such as Dr Seuss favourites, without even trying. We would turn a page and he could recite exactly what was on it, even when it was very long.

He was our shy, retiring one when we were out in company. (Not around the house, of course). Once when he was very small and still our only child, I was having a haircut, and one of the shop girls offered to read to him. As usual, he stayed quiet as a mouse until he warmed up to her. She was telling him, "The cat called Pat is on the mat" and such stuff, when suddenly he pointed to part of the picture and remarked out of the blue, "That apartment building has a fire extinguisher next to it." I forget whether or not I've told this one before, but I like it.

I remember a funny episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" when Ray's brother, Robert, remarked that he'd been their parent's "Practise Kid." Logan said he absolutely understands where he was coming from, and he has a point. He was the one who we sent to school, just to see if he'd take to it, and because of his patience he was there for over 3 years, although he says he hated it most of the time. And he was the one I'd panic over and whiz off to doctors in the emergency department for things which I never fretted over with Emma and Blake. He's still our trailblazer, as I find myself sometimes getting anxious about what'll become of him, as we've never homeschooled a teenager before.

At the moment, Logan has not much ambition. When people ask him what he wants to do when he finishes school, he shrugs and replies that he has no idea, which some people think is a source of angst. (Such as his grandparents, who all thought he was so promising and sharp and intelligent from the time we first had him.) He takes an interest in politics, sports and current affairs. He has a good memory for all sorts of trivia, including history and geography. He loves the electronic games. I'm expecting that his life path will open before him when he's meant to step on it, but it certainly makes the homeschool journey one of faith!

Yesterday we took him to one of the big city shopping centres to have lunch and browse in all the different game shops, as he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do on a hot summer's day. But before then, we had a bit of a drama at home. I'd brought in a roll of catalogues from the letter box and the boys decided to look at them together. Then I hear my big, brave 14 year old scream, "Get off the couch Blake, get off the couch!" Turns out he'd seen an enormous huntsman spider crawl out of one of the catalogues. They are harmless but big and ugly and do give you a shock. I came out to help search for it, armed with vacuum cleaner and one of Andrew's steel-capped boots. I couldn't find it but I admit I didn't look too hard. We left it until we got home from the shops, and then good old Dad discovered the monster, skulking behind some cushions. He used the cup and paper method to get it outside, which I'd never dream of doing with a beast of that calibre. As it was, Andrew had his leg scuttled over as he was releasing it. It gives me the heebie-jeebies just to think of accidentally carrying it in with the papers. And Logan has been very edgy with catalogues ever since. It seems I've raised a sensitive new aged guy instead of big tough hero. But as he keeps reminding me, it WAS big!

Under the Heat

2009-01-30T21:03:00.003+10:30

It's inevitable that we're bound to get a few of these. I'm talking about summer heatwaves. It's definitely not my favourite season but there's nothing we can do but grin and bear it. Most people around are bearing it without grinning because it's just far too hot. Here's a picture of what I mean.

I go out to hang washing after darkness has fallen because it's too blistering hot during the day. First thing in the morning, it's bound to be bone dry enough to bring in.
We all have to stay up late because it's too hot and sticky to fall asleep quickly. Blake usually nods off in the loungeroom by the fan and we carry him to lie on top of his bed with no shirt. I try to sleep covered by cool, wet towels or I'd have no chance of getting any sleep at all. A few nights ago we had the hottest Adelaide night on record: the mercury sank no lower than 33dgC. And during the day it hovers around 45 (which we worked out to be about 113F)
We're drinking gallons of water and sucking ice cubes all the time. And nothing beats watermelon straight from the fridge for dessert.
We duck in for 20 second showers just to get cool. Andrew even leaves his T-shirt on, so he can wear it sopping wet around the place as he works. But we've all got used to perspiring again pretty quickly. Logan says the coldness of winter is easier to deal with than the heat of summer and I think he's right.
My new Wii Fit balance board, which was obviously manufactured in the Northern Hemisphere, tells me not to eat too much in this cooler season and he gets worried about his gaskets freezing. I've just got to laugh and tell him he knows nothing about Adelaide in late January through February.
I'm over it, but the weather people tell us that there's no sign of a cool change for as far as they can see. Still, I have to say if we didn't get our annual dose of this sort of savage heat, I probably wouldn't appreciate the mildness of autumn as much as I do when it arrives.

On Australia Day last Monday, before this heatwave really kicked in, we went to my sister's place for a BBQ with some cousins. We had sausages, steaks and meat patties with lamingtons on the table with the other sweets. That's probably a good, patriotic way to celebrate the public holiday. It's a sunburnt country as the song says, but I guess we gotta love it. There's a song, The Great Southland, written by Hillsong which we used to sing just about every Sunday in church a few years back, so I'll finish off with it in honour of the occasion. The lyrics are pretty good.

This is our nation, this is our land
This is our future, this is our hope
A land of reaping, a land of harvest
This is our land, this is our home.

This is the Great Southland of the Holy Spirit
A land of red dust plains and summer rains
To this sunburnt land we will see a flood
And to this Great Southland, His Spirit comes.

This is our nation, this is our land
This land of plenty, this land of hope
The richest harvest is in her peoples
We see revival, His Spirit comes.

This is our nation, this is our land
This lucky country of dreams gone dry
And to these people, we see a harvest
And to this land, revival comes.

Stay Devoted to Your Dream (Part 2)

2009-01-26T17:02:00.003+10:30

Well as I was saying, I read about an experiment that made me see how important the writers and creators of stories really are.

I've lost the actual article so I'll just tell it as I remember it. A certain number of volunteer subjects were taken into a Uni lecture theatre and their blood was taken to measure for a variety of different chemicals and hormones. Then they were split off into three different groups.
Group 1 was taken to a room where they listened to a depressing lecture about the suicide rates of a drug taking subculture in a big city. Group 2 watched a documentary about Mother Teresa and her work in Calcutta. Group 3 were treated to a range of stories and legends told by some of the Christian saints throughout history. Then they all returned to the lecture theatre to have their blood measured again. And the findings were very interesting.

They found that harmful & stressful hormones and chemicals, such as cortisone, that adversely affect heart and blood pressure were elevated in the group who had listened to the drug statistics. The were pleasanter substances for the Mother Teresa group, but only one group tested consistently higher for the light-hearted, pleasant, happiness inducing chemicals. This was the group who had listened to the legends and stories from the saints.

I thought, Aha, there's proof that a good, uplifting story can have a physical impact on people. We who tell stories are not merely amusing people but helping enhance their health, along with those other helping professions. I've heard it said that if we can touch people's emotions to make them happy, that's as good as taking an aspirin (or maybe even a course of depression medication). I've always enjoyed snuggling down with a good book at the end of a long day. I've found that I can remember stories and the points they were making far better than I can recall a word of the text book knowledge I've tried to stuff into my brain over the years. Perhaps the human brain has been made to run on stories as easily as cars can run on petrol. When I heard this, I began to take my liking to write fiction more as a good thing. It's great to think that a good story can have a therapeutic effect on others.

Stay Devoted to your Dream (Part 1)

2009-01-23T13:47:00.005+10:30

I had a book launch for "The Risky Way Home" at our local library on Wednesday evening. We sold quite a few books which made me very happy. We've also launched our new website, which you'll find in my blog toolbar as usual, but its address is now www.appleleafbooks.com The info in it is basically the same but it is now hopefully much more user friendly and we'll get some new traffic. I'd like to thank Chris Weir of Weir Marketing for his thoroughly professional and top notch job.

I thought I'd spend a few posts blogging some of things I discussed at my launch. When I was much younger, I really enjoyed writing and reading fiction but never thought of it as a future occupation or calling. I thought of it more as self-indulgence. I even felt guilty for not spending my time doing other things that I thought were more important.

Even though I loved it, I went through a phase of wondering whether fiction was very important. Although feedback has been overwhelmingly positive, I took a few negative comments to heart. "People are starving and dying all over the world, so the people who devote their lives to the helping ministries and occupations are doing a better job than people who just want to sit around writing fantasies." A few people even insinuated that I'm playing around with people's minds, making them discontent with their own lives because they get caught up in the world of pretend people. We've all heard people say, "I don't want to be a loser who just sits around reading novels all day." To me, that was casting aspersions on the writers of novels too.

So I tried to think of a more "acceptable" way to use a writing skill that might strike people as more "useful" or "helpful." Some included a newsletter of uplifting thoughts that I'd post on a bi-monthly basis, non-fiction, writing people's biographies for them, teaching creative writing. I began each of these with enthusiasm (and maybe they weren't bad) but always petered out. One day I'd spent a few hours working on an uplifting newsletter, then got tired of it and treated myself to work on a bit of fiction as relief. As soon as I picked up my train of thought on "The Risky Way Home," I found myself declaring aloud, "I LOVE THIS"

Well, they say we all have epiphanies throughout our lives. Those lucid moments when something becomes clear. That was one for me. When I said that, I sensed God's voice saying as clear as could be, "I KNOW!"

So I first decided not to get caught up in guilt trips, letting myself be sidetracked into doing things that I was told were better or nobler than what I really wanted to be doing. I love thinking of stories and playing around with words to give readers the illusion that they're really there. And I love giving my characters challenges to see how they'll act. Whatever we do, we need to work with an attitude that we're adding something of value to the world that wouldn't have been there if we hadn't provided it. Although millions of fictions have been written, nobody else could have written "The Risky Way Home" or "Picking up the Pieces" or the "Quenarden" series but me.

Then I found an excellent interview that a certain author had with Mother Teresa. During their talk, he told her, "Sometimes when I consider all that you do here, I feel guilty for just frittering away my time writing." And Mother Teresa rebuked him. She said, "Don't ever talk that way again. In God's eyes your writing is every bit as important as what I do. They're different ways of blessing the world but equally valid. You have the potential to do so much good through your writing. Remember, whenever you pick up your pen you're a blessing."

Next time I blog, my Part 2 will describe how I found out that telling stories really is a special ministry in itself.

The Gold Fields

2009-01-17T17:24:00.007+10:30

We went hiking at an old gold mine area not far from home. Back in the mid 1800s, gold was discovered in the Adelaide Hills and miners came from near & far to see what they could do for themselves. Old historical areas are interesting to explore. Most of those pits are surrounded by wire fences, but there are a few little ones which are still open and this big tunnel has been opened to the public. There's me coming up out of it, just before I smacked my head really hard on the rock. Ouch! I'm glad we got a "before" photo and not an "after" one.

Here's the inside with Andrew & Blake. We were intrigued to see what the flash of the camera shows up. Inside this tunnel is so intensely pitch black that you can see absolutely nothing without the light of a torch. I've hardly ever seen darkness so thick, and that was what those nineteenth century miners were working in almost 24/7. So only when we got home did we really see these rock walls ourselves. It was quite a hot Aussie bush day but that underground air seemed refrigerated. Probably a good place for a summer visit.

Here they are on the way out. Alas, if there is still any gold around, it'd probably wouldn't be enough to cover the costs of setting up a modern expedition. We were all on our own when we explored the area (I'm glad nobody was around to hear me yell when I belted my head). It was quiet and a little eerie, as historic sites sometimes are, but the old photos posted on info boards around the place showed what a busy, bustling, teeming place it was in the 1860s and 70s.
The photos that follow are what the world looks like up above those tunnels and mines.

Greatness in the small details

2009-01-14T18:13:00.003+10:30

I've finished my latest M/S, "A Design of Gold" which is a sequel to a couple of my other books. This time, I thought I'd honor some great thinkers by including a small quote as a header for each chapter in my book. I've never done that before and I thought it'd give this new book something special to separate it from the others. I got as far as sitting there with pen and paper and copying a quote for each of the 24 chapters. As "A Design of Gold" is about finding significance in small details, that was the theme of most of the quotes. But my husband came home and reminded me that if we were to do this, we'd have to obey copyright laws by chasing up the original sources of the quotes and very probably paying for permission to use them. So I'm afraid that was the end of that. We're pretty financially pressed each time we publish a new book as it is, without this extra cost. It was still fun to do, so instead of wasting all these quotes, I thought I'd put them on my blog. So keep an eye on my quotes section in the toolbar.

Australia!

2009-01-11T20:38:00.002+10:30

A few nights ago, Andrew & I treated ourselves to a night out at the movies. We decided on "Australia" I thought I'd get myself in a patriotic mood before Australia Day later this month. And although the movie was close on three hours long, the time didn't drag and I thought it very well done. Some of the scenery up there in the Northern Territory where it was filmed is breath-taking. The cast was great. Both Nicole Kidman & Hugh Jackman did a wonderful job, but the gorgeous little boy almost stole the show. I forget the name of the boy who acted him. I had tears streaming down my cheeks, as I often do in emotional movies. The reunions at the end, when the family re-discovered each other after thinking their loved ones had died, ahhh!

The movie handled the subject of the Stolen Generations with sensitivity. Although the little boy, Nullah, escaped from this fate, the threat was always there throughout the story. For those who aren't familiar with Australian history, the Stolen Generations is the term used for the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Island children who were removed from their parents by the state & church authorities, who believed it was in the children's own best interest. This mostly took place between the years 1869 and 1969, causing an untold number of families unimaginable pain and heartache.

Early last year, our Prime Minister Kevin Rudd made a formal apology to the victims of the Stolen Generations, which was televised across Australia. It was quite moving to hear him say, "I'm sorry" several times. I know that some fellow Australians have criticised his decision. Our former Prime Ministers had always refused to take the step, probably buying into the general opinion, "It wasn't our fault! It was an unfortunate state of affairs, but we personally weren't responsible for removing these children so why should we apologise? It won't undo the damage anyway." However, I'm among those who believe that things such as inherited culpability and generational curses shouldn't be scoffed at. They are Biblically based and no less true because of their low-key, spiritual nature, and unpopularity in the opinions of secular statesmen.

I for one was excited by the action Mr Rudd took. I believe that acknowledging the culpability of our white settler ancestors may help to cleanse our beautiful country from any shame which may have been holding back our prosperity in any way. I'm looking forward to seeing the future of our nation in the light of this.

Bloggers are Great People

2009-01-06T11:21:00.002+10:30

I'll take this opportunity at the start of the year to encourage us all. We're all making a wonderful difference, whether we know it or not. It's the 21st century and the World Wide Web is a fantastic tool to influence as many as we can so we might as well make use of it. Since I've been blogging, I've read a countless number of uplifting posts from a variety of people spread across the world.

My husband and kids still grin and giggle if we're at extended family gatherings and someone remarks that the word BLOG stands for "Boring Load of Garbage." Yet I know they find my blogging quite interesting. I have to smile myself whenever I hear my dh refer to "friends of ours in America" during conversations. Both he and I agree that the only thing that would top blogging would be to actually travel over & visit all our friends in person. But alas, we don't know when that will ever be. Especially since we'd want to make a concerted effort to cover as much of North America as we possibly can. We'd start on the West Coast and visit Call Me Kate, The Leingangs and Coffee Mom. Then we'd want to catch up with Comfy Denim in the centre. And no way would we miss Juggling Paynes and Vicki on the East Coast. That's just to mention a few. So the whole thing would mean juggling of time, finance and organisation but oh boy, how great it would be!

I'm also thankful for bloggers closer to home. Last week I followed up a comment from a lady named Kylie Willison, who lives quite close to me. It turns out that I met her at a homeschooling conference in Adelaide where I was trying to sell my books. Those of you who have been following my blog for awhile might recall a post I wrote last May about what a write-off I thought it was from a business point of view. I'd managed to sell only one book all day and had a bit of a whine about how it probably cost me financially, when I considered petrol on the way down and table hire once I got there. And some of you commented that we have to do these things and you never know the outcome. Well, Kylie turned out to be one of those special encouragers God holds back for awhile to surprise us with when we're not expecting it. Not only did she end up ordering my Quenarden series through my website after that contact, but she's also encouraging other people to visit my site & blog and read my books. (Turns out she keeps a very interesting blog as a bonus).

I think one of the appealing things about blogging is that you can't help forming well-balanced friendships. We all get a chance to stand on our soapboxes and yabber on about whatever strikes our fancy, yet we are also happy to spend the time reading what others have to say and discussing what's on their minds with them too. Nobody gets to take over and monopolise the conversation. And nobody needs to feel as if they're retiring and not being heard either.

Just to round off the whole experience, we can heat up our kettles and enjoy a nice cup of tea or coffee with each other too.

New Year Musings

2008-12-31T14:52:00.004+10:30

It's hard to believe we've just chalked up another new year. Doesn't it seem that this last revolution around the sun went amazingly quickly? As always, I like to step back and reflect on the way my life is going and the plans we have for the coming year. I felt a twinge of alarm when I considered the following.

As Logan edges further along the High School continuum, I'll have to help him begin to decide the educational options that are available to him outside the normal public high school choice. They are out there, but it takes time to figure them out. So much time that ferreting it out could easily be a full-time occupation all year.

Blake, my youngest, is keenly getting into reading and basic maths. Helping him through that early literacy/numeracy phase could easily be a full-time occupation all year.

Emma is busy with her interest in arts, upper primary studies and such. Following her interest in these could easily be a full-time occupation all year.

Keeping a ship-shape house is definitely an occupation that could easily take more than a full-time job all year. In fact that one's a beast that could take all you want to pour into it and still never be done. I know several ladies who seem to master this one with poise and grace, but it's always been a hassle for me.

Keeping Apple Leaf Books, our little fiction publishing venture going, could be a full-time occupation all year.

Looking at all this, I groan and think there's no way I can possibly do any of this very well because I'm spreading myself too thin across all of them and not giving any of them my complete, full-time attention. And my first instinct is to throw up my hands and stop doing any of it, because it's a recipe for burn-out. Those ladies who actually work more on top of this outside the home must have super powers. Even ladies with kids in the school system have their work cut out for them. (If my kids had been in the system this year, I would have had one at High School, one at Primary and one at Kindy. I would've been always jumping in & out of the car. Ridiculous!)

But then I remember the advice that's always given to first-time writers. I'm familiar with this because I've come across it in every course or how-to book I've studied on the subject. To those who say, "I want to write a novel but the size of the commitment alarms me," they reply, "You only need to bite off small chunks at a time. If you restrict yourself to as little as one page per day, at the end of the year you'll have a 365 page manuscript." I'm sure it's the same with all the other stuff I've mentioned. Taking small chunks of time each day for helping Logan, Emma and Blake = an education for each of them. I've already proven to myself that finding just a smidgin of time for work on Apple Leaf Books gets stories circulating out there. And I'm sure we all know how quickly a house can be made to appear reasonably clean and tidy when we know that sudden visitors are on the way. But if we do none of this, things fall in a heap very quickly.

This is one of the things I'll try to remember in 2009. The little ways seem useless, but persistance pays. After all, huge, beautiful stalagmites are formed by little drops of water.

The Little Boy Shop

2008-12-20T12:15:00.006+10:30

Here are a couple of photos I took of Blake and his friend Maggie, when they were posing as Joseph and Mary in a little Christmas play by our church kindy class, The King's Kids. I wasn't sure he'd go along with the plan, being somewhat of a stubborn one and not patient like his brother or anxious to perform like his sister at the same age. But he did agree and the result was sweet. Especially when she sat on a little wooden rocking horse on their journey to Bethlehem, and they ended up with a sweet Baby Jesus doll.

Time is passing. Blake had a pretend friend named "Mr Blooggins" who used to come up in family conversations not all that long ago. Yet when I was putting him to bed a few nights ago, it struck me that Blake had been very quiet on the Mr Blooggins front for quite a long time. I asked Blake what had happened to him, and he got all embarrassed and said, "He's gone away."

Logan and Emma used to have pretend friends with weird names too, and the same thing happened in those cases too. You never realise that a pretend friend has gone for good, until one day you suddenly reflect, "Hey, what's happened?" In this case, it's a little bit sad because Blake's pretend friends are definitely the last pretend friends who'll ever be part of this family.

There are still funny things happening, though. Last night he was arguing with Emma about the proper way to play a game, and it ended with Blake leaving her in a huff. He came to me and said, "I want you to buy another little boy." It dawned on the rest of us that being the youngest, and not being familiar with other pregnant ladies, he was quite serious. So we asked him, "How can we buy another little boy?" After a moment of thought, he said, "We'll go to the little boy shop."

If only it was that easy.

The Drenching we Needed

2008-12-16T15:34:00.003+10:30

We had a lovely rainfall a few days ago; the sort that sets in all day long and keeps us housebound. The perfect start for the summer. At the moment, most of us have forgotten what it's like not to fling a few loads of washing up on the clothesline whenever we feel like it. I got out an umbrella from some deep, dark recess and had a walk. I liked the fresh smell of the good water soaking into the dry earth. And little gullies and ditches which have been powdery-dry were transformed to rivers. I could not believe how one good day of thorough soaking could transform my block. One new river which had been a dry trail the day before even had ducks swimming in it. Local ponds had swollen. Water was pouring downhill with great force, bubbling everywhere. There were smiles from other walkers I greeted and comments that, "The farmers are really going to appreciate this."

But what surprised me even more was the following afternoon, when I asked my daughter to come with me to see all the rivers and ponds that had magically appeared. They'd all disappeared already. The ponds had become wading puddles and that river that the ducks were swimming on had become a slimy foot trail. How thirsty the land must have been! So much for that one decent rainfall.

Makes me think that we can be like dry, parched, thirsty landscapes ourselves, without even knowing it. When I'm wrung-out and exhausted, I sometimes feel that one restful afternoon might replenish me, but that's not necessarily the case. In the same way, one morning of Bible study and devotions won't last us the whole week! And filling up your car with petrol won't get you all the way from Adelaide to Melbourne, however quickly you want to make it. This has reminded me to schedule times for refreshment and contemplation into my agenda.

The Camels are Coming

2008-12-08T15:32:00.005+10:30

Here's a good way of looking at things when you feel over-worked, under-paid, waiting on something that doesn't seem to be coming or just plain exhausted.

We all know that Jesus was born of Mary in a stable and laid in a manger. At the same time, after years of studying the heavenly bodies, the Magi from the east were following a star, expecting to be led to the Christ Child. When they found Him, they offered the family their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and worshipped Him.

The point of this post is this. Mary and Joseph didn't go around seeking gifts. To all appearances, everything had been going completely haywire for them for some time. The Roman census happened to be decreed at the time when she was almost ready to have her baby. It forced them to embark on a long, tiring journey which I'm sure she must have been well over by the time they arrived. Imagine a long trip by donkey when you're nine months pregnant! Then the town was crowded, they couldn't find anywhere to stay and had to resort to a stable of an inn. Her labour would have been hard, with nobody but Joseph around to support and encourage her. It would have been cold afterwards with nowhere to place the newborn baby but in a feeding manger full of hay. And by modern standards, it wouldn't have been very sanitary, with all those animals and old hay around.

But in spite of their dodgy-looking circumstances, Mary and Joseph were in God's will, exactly where they were supposed to be. And in His timing, He sent them wise men from the east mounted on camels and loaded down with provisions beyond their wildest dreams. The book I was reading went on to say that there's a principle we can rely on here. When we're in the will of God for us, He'll always bring provision to us. We don't have to chase it down and anxiously fret that it'll never reach us, because it'll surely seek us out. We don't have to try to make things happen. God will bring them to us.

Camels will come for each of us if we stay in the will of God. We don't have to fret and worry, trying to figure out what to do to take care of ourselves. We can simply leave it with God, who after all has our best interests at heart and is completely trustworthy. It's a thought that takes all the stress out of the waiting period, when we feel we've done all we can do.

Although I'll no doubt be blogging before Christmas, I wish you all a happy and prosperous festive season.

Subjective "Truths"

2008-12-03T12:38:00.003+10:30

I like to walk as my main form of exercise and at the corner of our street is a house with a beautiful lawn and garden. There are bushes trimmed in the shapes of animals and the lawn is soft and springy. Blake, my 4yo son, likes to announce that he's tired and sink right down into their nature strip on his back, looking up at the sky. Sometimes other passers-by stop to grin at him and exchange a few words.

One lady said to me, "Don't these people do a wonderful job of blessing the neighbourhood with this beautiful place? Just looking at it is enough to make you feel happy and calm."

Then just a few days later, a man who we met at that spot remarked, "Have you noticed the water they use on this joint? (Because we're in the middle of water-restrictions here in South Australia) It's appalling and someone really should report them."

There's two different ways of looking at the exact same thing, and I suppose it could really be said that both points of view are true. That's a funny thing, I suppose 'truth' often depends on the person who perceives a thing. Some teachers used to tell my parents that I was too day-dreamy and remote, and I got upset because I knew it was true. Then other, kinder people said that I was relaxing, and refreshing to be around, and I suppose that was true for them. I watched movies and read books that I thought were fantastic, yet they were blasted to pieces by critics in reviews. Yet I persist in thinking that they really were fantastic because I found them so.

I think the Biblical advice to take people's words lightly is wise. Don't worry when people criticise you or your work, because they are really only voicing their OWN opinion! It took awhile for me to learn this and sometimes I still forget. On the other hand, when others heap praise on us and tell us how great we are, we ought to take this lightly too, for the same reason. If we let this sort of thing get too deeply into our heads, it'll hit all the harder when the other sort of feedback comes, as it always will. I think the very best thing we can do is carry on faithfully doing what we are sure is our calling without letting people's words affect us much at all. Then we are probably in the best position for God to use our input.

Signs and symbols

2008-11-28T15:04:00.002+10:30

Last week when I was walking across the road to our city Christian bookshop with a box of books beneath each arm, a gorgeous white dove strutted right in front of me. And when I'd dropped them off and left, another lady was leaving too and she said, "Look at that, don't you think we could take him as some sort of sign?" And I'd love to think that's true, because I love receiving unexpected little gifts from above like that. The white dove has always been a symbol for the Holy Spirit and for peace. So I'd love to think he was God's way of telling me that everything with the books and my family is going to go fine and I can relax and be at peace about it all. After all, I've been to that store many, many times and never seen a white dove before.

When I got home and mentioned it to my husband, I asked, "Do you think he could have been a sign?" and he replied, "Yeah, a sign that someone's car might get bird poop over it." But knowing him as well as I do, that's the sort of reply I expected from him.

Years ago, in May 1994, I was driving with my sister, her husband and their 2 little boys when I noticed that 3 large, fluffy clouds in the sky were shaped like letters and spelled the word SON as clearly as any writing I'd ever seen. They were all the same size, perfectly white and even and perfectly spaced. I pointed it out to the others and we all oohed and aahed over it. Then, the following morning I discovered that I was pregnant! I'd genuinely had no idea the day before. I had no children at the time but had suffered a couple of early miscarriages, so I was sensitive, frightened about the whole thing. That word in the sky helped me through those dodgy early stages and in February 1995, my first baby was born and he was a son.

I think signs are like this. They don't necessarily occur when you're looking out for them but come out of the blue to spur us on and remind us that we really are inscribed on the palm of God's hand and He hasn't forgotten our circumstances.

A bit snowed-under

2008-11-24T17:30:00.002+10:30

I've been pretty flat-out and exhausted all last week. I've been busy with a number of different tasks and at the same time, have been having this vertigo, light-headed type of thing. If I look up from the computer fast, or turn my head quickly, things begin to swim. It's led to a panic-attack sort of situation where I start feeling really spaced out when I have to get out and talk to people. I've just started tipping a bit of olive oil into my ears in case it's all ear related.

Anyway, let me give you a sample of a day last week to show what things have been like. I woke up one morning and remembered that I had a few boxes of books to get ready for freight and a couple of parcels to post. I figured out that I should have that done by about 10.30. But as soon as I started I realised that we had no packing tape so dd and I drove into the shops to get some. Then back home, I started writing the addresses on the boxes with my black marker, just to find that it was running out of ink. There was nothing for it but to get back in the car, to go back to the shops for another one. And this time we thought of other things we needed, such as dish detergent.

By the time I'd got everything together and looked up the addresses I needed from the computer, the telephone rang and it was a lady who'd been given my number and wanted to ask about homeschooling. As she has 3 little ones who she's just on the verge of removing from their school, I was happy to chat, but it lasted for about half an hour, as these talks sometimes do. After the call, I found I had to pause to do a few home-related, tidying up sort of chores. But I got to the Post Office with the parcels as quickly as I could. While I waited in line I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was almost 3.00. I found that quite depressing. There are only a certain number of days allotted to each of us and I hate the thought of frittering them away and not getting as much done as I'd hoped.

While talking it over later with dh, he said that he thinks it always takes longer to do simple tasks when you're working from home. But the depressing thing is that all that days (and others like it) I felt as if I was rushing like the wind.

Reminds me of a day on a holiday to Mount Gambier, when I briefly left Andrew and the kids to hike up from our caravan park for a glance at the Blue Lake. And when I did, the ripping, cobalt blue expanse appeared so serene and shimmering, I realised that I'd been rushed off my feet without even knowing it. The Lake was an example of God's time while I was trying to live an accelerated life and that was on holiday. How many times does that happen to us? We have cortisol and adrenaline and who knows how many other stress hormones surging through us, but we call it every day life. I guess the theme of this catch-up post is that I want to learn to pace myself to use God's time instead of the accelerated time that seems so normal but wears me down so much.

"The Risky Way Home" is now available

2008-11-17T17:09:00.004+10:30

We've had a busy week, with Emma's birthday and then the brand new books being delivered here the following day. Andrew's been busy getting our website set up for easy purchasing. He found he could no longer use the old web programme he used to use, because it only runs on Windows XP instead of Vista, which we now have. But he found another programme which allows Pay Pal to be set up.

It isn't quite as handy as the first programme we had, because it only allows us to use either Australian or US currency but not both. To my way of thinking, that's an annoying limitation, but he carefully figured out the currency differences to let our international customers know approximately how much they'll be spending. It turned out to be a bit of a headache but I really wanted to get it up and running and make it easy for everyone.

So to all my great international blogging buddies who would like one, when you purchase the book via Pay Pal on our website, it'll still automatically convert your currency to Aussie dollars as it did before. You get into it via my web site on the toolbar as you did before. And you'll see the page for international customers right down the bottom. We'll be here ready to get books in the post straight away, as always. And I know I've left enough time to get them across in time for Christmas. For those readers of this blog who don't know, this is a contemporary romance/suspense for women readers. Please refer to my website for more details.

Blessings to everyone,
Paula

Emma's Birthday

2008-11-14T11:13:00.004+10:30

Emma turned 10 on Tuesday. She'd been looking forward to her birthday for weeks and weeks. It a fun age because it seems such a transition between little girl and pre-adolescent/young lady. The range of gifts she requested shows this as much as anything. The pair of singing Barbie dolls from "Barbie and the Diamond Castle" was on her list along with a hair straightener.

In the end, we didn't get her Alexa and Liana, the Barbie dolls because they're $48 dollars each. Paying $96 for two Barbies is something we couldn't bring ourselves to do. We did give her the hair straightener along with a DVD of her favourite movie, "Enchanted", a painting game for her Nintendo DS and a couple of T-shirts. Logan bought her a Beanie kids and she got plenty of cash given to her by relatives.

We took her ice-skating in the day. It was a very hot day up in the high 30s, so it was nice to be in the ice rink. I hadn't been skating myself so it was good to discover my skating legs again. Although I try to do a lot of walking to keep fit, I think it's a great thing to try other exercises from time to time, to use other muscles. Swimming at the beach is good, and ice-skating is definitely a good work-out for the legs. You can do several laps of the rink without getting puffed out, but at the end your legs ache as if they've run a marathon. We had the whole rink to ourselves for most of the time, as the school term hasn't finished yet.

Now for a quick update on those guinea pigs. Andrew did finally end up making a new hutch. We got those two introduced to each other with a sheet of chicken wire between separate little compartments. They started off by rubbing noses, and now they run around together on the grass down the bottom and seem to get along famously. Bamboo, the big fellow, did try to establish ground rules by making a chirruping noise deep in his chest which we discovered to be an establishing of who is boss. I'm pleased and surprised by how reasonably quickly they've taken to each other.

Who are our senior citizens, anyway?

2008-11-08T17:34:00.003+10:30

I was thinking what treasures the older generation are. In the matter of just another decade or so, most of them will have passed away and that will be the end of the pre-computer generation. That's actually a a scary thought. As far as I can remember my parents have always been pretty much the same but sometimes gems from their past come up.

My Dad, who was born in 1932, can remember when he had to wear a little medallion with his blood type on it around his neck, when he was a schoolboy. And he can remember being frightened and having nightmares that Hitler was going come and march his Nazi army down the city streets of Adelaide. He can remember street peddlers selling rabbits (to cook), blocks of ice, and pots and pans.

A few weeks ago we found a few photos of my Mum at her 21st birthday. The year was 1957 and she looked like one of the girls from "Happy Days." (OK, now I guess the younger generation would say that I'm showing my age too. "What's 'Happy Days'?") She can remember having to save ration tickets for the most basic grocery items when she was a girl. And one of her favourite afternoon snacks was bread and dripping. My Nanna used to scrape the cold old fat from the bottom of the frying pan and save it to spread on sandwiches. Mum says that sometimes there were mouse footprints on it but Nanna would simply skim the top off with a knife and give the kids what was underneath. To those, like me, who might shudder at that, what a different world it was back fifty years ago.

Yet already I've noticed that our own generation already is 'the oldies' to the youner generation. Was it different in the 1970s and 80s when many of us grew up? You bet it was. Not all that long ago, my sister hired, 'Return to Gilligan's Island' from Blockbuster, to show our kids the sort of comedy we used to love. After a short time of watching the Skipper swipe Gilligan over the head with his hat, and Ginger mooching around the island in her glittery ball dresses, and Mr & Mrs Howell waving their bank notes around, our kids were bored. "This is corny and stupid! How could you have enjoyed this?" We had no answer except that we were products of our time.

I've already told my kids about chunky telephones with cords and proper dials, huge vinyl records in the music shops, being able to stretch out in the back of the car at night without having to wear seatbelts, running around the district with bare feet and not worrying about stepping on needles and syringes. I can remember during heatwaves, when we knew that anyone who drove with all their windows up must have air conditioning in their cars. I can remember when "Wet Ones" was a brand new invention that my mum loved to keep our hands fresh in the car. I remember when we'd only just heard of lasagne, and thought we'd have to try this delicious looking Italian meal. I can remember when my brother and his friends were crazy about being able to communicate with others on their CB radios. And when TV tennis used to be the sort you'd play with two sticks and a little dot. My dad was one of the first in our circle of friends to buy a video recorder in the early '80s, and it was a Beta, the sort that was like an old-fashioned tape-recorder.

And during my High School days, we all had to research class projects with the "World Book" encyclopaedias in the school library because the internet was a thing of the future. If the project was on Shakespeare for example, I'd always find others hogging the 'S' encyclopaedia, so I'd have to be inventive and try 'E' for Elizabethan Theatre instead. Is that old fashioned? The way the kids laugh when I tell them, I'd have to say yes.

So I'm afraid that maybe our generation are not all that young anymore either, and have priceless memories too, to impart to the younger one. We should remember as many stories as we can because the mundane details of one generation is bound to become entertaining folklore to the next.

Guinea Pigs

2008-11-04T09:04:00.005+10:30

Here's the newest addition to our family with Blake. But first some background.

Here's the young guinea pig we got from friends at the end of July. He is now a very large fellow. His name is Bamboo. I think Emma called him that because she thinks he's the colour of bamboo and she just likes the sound of it. He's a skitterish, standoffish sort of guinea pig who hates being picked up.

And one day last week, Emma's friend who gave her Bamboo phoned and offered us a new baby one to be a companion for him. He turned out to be the tiniest, cutest little 3-week old darling with silky, striped hair. We couldn't think of a name to start off with. Because of his stripes, we thought of Harlequin, Humbug (the boiled sweet sort, of course), Triple Deck (after triple deck Cadbury chocolate bars, with dark, milk and white chocolate), or Joseph (after the coat of many colours that Joseph wore.) None of them seemed to be quite right but we've settled on Creme Brulee.

He's the perfect little snuggly, carting around sort of guinea pig but we have one problem. When we tried to introduce him to his 'companion', Bamboo was very aggressive towards him. He bared his teeth and made weird noises. Logan logged onto a website that translates guinea pig noises into English. Bamboo's comments to Creme Brulee turned out to be "GO AWAY!" By Bamboo's tone, I think there were probably a few extra nasty comments thrown in there too. Worst of all, he started getting really mean and twitchy with us too, and scratched poor Emma with his claws. We can understand that he's had the hutch to himself for so long, he's become territorial about it. But because of their size difference, we don't dare put CB in with him. Bamboo would finish him off in no time flat.

So Emma made a temporary little living area for him in a plastic storage box and that's the way it currently stands. We now have two guinea pigs living in separate apartments. The kids have talked their dad into agreeing to make another hutch with a partition in between to help them get used to each other, but he hasn't had time yet. And Emma's trying to talk me into buying a new baby guinea pig to go with CB, so at least somebody will have a friend. She feels sad for him because he was willing enough to be friendly to Bamboo. But I haven't agreed to anything yet.

We'll see how we go. Has anyone else had this sort of dilemma?

Books and Titles

2008-10-30T09:56:00.002+10:30

My new book will be ready for delivery approximately November 12th. Last week I got an attack of nerves when I went to visit my parents. They saw the cover for the first time and didn't think much of it. Dad thinks it looks more like a war novel and also that the cover is fairly sombre. Mum, who has proof-read the M/S for me, said she would've preferred to have seen a pretty girl on the front. So when I went home I studied the image carefully (even though it's a bit late at this stage) and thought, "Help, what if they're right? What if people pick this up expecting to find a combat novel and get romance instead?"

I wondered whether we should have asked Andrew, our cover designer, to put some flowers or lace along with the barbed wire. We'd already got him to make several changes on the title size, name size, little comment and the way the writing went up the spine. I think he was glad when it was all over. As he's a very blokey sort of guy, and I guess you know what I mean, I had to laugh at the thought of asking him to include flowers or lace at the very last minute, but I would never dare actually do it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he actually came to throttle us! And I'm not sure if I'd blame him.

The next thing I did was re-read the comments on this blog about the cover that you ladies left. That boosted my spirits a lot. My dh even reminded me, "You blog friends liked it." I e-mailed the design to my sister and nephews to have a final look at, and they promptly phoned back and told me that in their opinion, it's by far the best cover design I've ever had. Better than the Quenarden ones. My sister said, "Anyone who expects a war story and reads the blurb on the back will twig that it's got romance in it. And if the don't read the blurb, they deserve what they get."

I let Andrew, my husband, have the last word. He thinks it's got lots of interesting tricks with light to appeal to a wide range of readers. And he reminded me that even though the book has a romance thread through it, it also has excitement and suspense, and that's the element we're highlighting on the cover. The weird thing about me is that I can understand all the comments people have made, and sort of agree with everyone.

I know how important it is to have an initial package that is really appealing to readers. My own kids, who claim to be open-minded and not easily swayed, have made a snap judgment about one of the favourite books of my youth. This is "Children of the New Forest" by Captain Marryat. Our copy unfortunately has a front cover picture of two old-fashioned girls kneeling on the green grass, patting a dog, which is pretty misleading if you know what the story is about.

I've told Logan several times, "You ought to read it! I loved this when I was thirteen! It's an exciting story about the English Civil War. There are battles between the Cavaliers and Roundheads almost every turn of the page. The heroes are really tough, heroic guys." But all to no avail. He insists that he won't be caught anywhere near a book with girls patting dogs on the front with the title "Children of the New Forest." Despite what I say, it has the connotations of a sweet, domestic little tale.

I can only hope that my cover will appeal to a wide range.

Hardly Worth Sleeping

2008-10-27T12:16:00.003+10:30

A few nights ago, I had one of those weird, vivid dreams that is like an aerobic work-out. I'd woken up in the night, gone to get a drink of water and settled back into bed thinking, "I still have a few good hours for sleep."

Next thing I knew, I was on the Freeway in my car, driving through the next suburb, and I was completely exhausted. My eyes kept automatically shutting behind the wheel and I had to jam them open every few seconds. My head swam with fatigue. I recall deciding to pull over and park, thinking I'd surely cause an accident if I didn't. But I knew I couldn't stay there for long because I had some urgent appointment I needed to get to, because people were waiting for me. My final thought was, "Oh boy, I wish I was lying down in my comfortable bed, under my nice, warm covers." Then I woke up and discovered that I actually was lying in my comfortable bed under my nice warm covers. I hate that sort of dream! Surely it's a waste of a sleep when you wake up feeling more exhausted than when you lay down.

My oldest son had trouble falling asleep a few nights ago, so my solution was plenty of exercise. There's a great steep hill near our place. I could call it "Roller-Coaster Hill" in a positive mood and "Cardiac Hill" in a negative one. I got him hiking up it, and it was pretty good for me too. It was quite funny because Emma heard me talking about Logan's insomnia, didn't know what it was and assumed that it might be some yucky disease or condition that she didn't want to catch.

I've suffered from the same thing myself in the past, and find it helpful to turn to Dale Carnegie's chapter, "How to keep from worrying about insomnia" in "How to stop worrying and start living." His advice comes down to five things.

1) If you can't sleep, get up and work or read until you feel sleepy.
2) Remember that nobody was ever killed by lack of sleep. Worrying about insomnia usually causes far more damage than sleeplessness.
3) Try prayer.
4) Relax your body.
5) Exercise. Get yourself so physically tired that you can't stay awake.

Sparring with Windmills

2008-10-18T09:13:00.003+10:30

A few nights ago, my son Logan was walking around grumbling and frowning because he had a bit of a toothache and he hates going to the dentist. I managed to get him in for an appointment the very following day because somebody else had cancelled. It was for 4.30 and all day long, he was moping and groaning. "She always finds something with my teeth! She's filled some and pulled some, this time she'll probably say most of them need to come out and the few that are left need braces." Although he wasn't serious about this, he still managed to talk himself into a real state of nerves. I could understand him, because last year he needed six baby eye-teeth pulled. The new ones had grown so high in his gums, the old ones were showing no signs of getting loose. But although that was over and done with, he was still expecting the worst. By the time we were sitting in the waiting room, I could just about feel anxiety waves radiating from him.

When we went in, the dentist tried her best to work out why the tooh had been hurting. She tapped it and scraped it and put cold stuff on it, but it looked OK. So she took an X-ray of it, and after peering at it, asked him if he'd had a cold. He had been going around with a snuffling, hay-fevery, thick head sort of thing a few days before, so she showed us on the X-ray how his sinuses were playing up with the nerves and roots of his teeth. "In a few more days, it shouldn't be giving you any more trouble at all."

So Logan left the clinic trying to appear all nonchalent, as if he hadn't been worried at all. And I warned him not to ever let himself get the way I used to be (and still am if I don't take care). I was the sort of person who'd always assume the worst case scenario must be true until it was completely ruled out. If I read a medical article, I was sure to discover I had heaps of the symptoms. And if Andrew and the kids were late coming back from somewhere, I'd imagine all sorts of road carnage or other disasters. I've found part of the solution is to have a good laugh at myself and treat this sort of thinking as a bit of a joke. And I remembered the classic old story of Don Quixote, wasting so much time and energy trying to attack something he perceived as a huge threat, but turned out to be nothing but a group of windmills. Although everyone has a giggle at poor old Don Quixote and that story, I have to see we're not always that much brighter. I've certainly fought my share of windmills in my past, and cringe to think of how much fun I could have been having instead of wasting the time I spent worrying.

It helps to find the good in each situation too. In this case of the dentist, I was able to use a special voucher we'd received in the post. Our new government has decided tha teenagers should be especially targeted for preventative dental surgery, so earlier in the year, we received a teenage dental voucher entitling Logan to have a free $150 worth of treatment. At last I was able to use it to cover this check-up and X-ray. And next year we'll get another one. Family dental care usually hits us in the wallet worst of all, but this time all I needed to do was sign a Medicare claim form. And they start coming when kids turn 11, so after another year, Emma will be eligible too. All I can say is "Thank you, Mr Rudd." It's pretty good when you can actually benefit from something the government is doing.

Quiet Heroism

2008-10-14T16:17:00.002+10:30

I heard a good true story over the weekend from a friend who's a teacher. She works at a school where there's a really happy, full-on home-economics teacher in her early 60s. Earlier this year, that lady had an unexpected serious heart attack from which she was extremely lucky to ever recover.

So during her convalescence, the home-ec teacher began to wonder just what it was that God had saved for her. She began to imagine that maybe she ought to show her appreciation in some tangible way, such as joining a mission, helping in third world countries or becoming involved in some huge charity, but she couldn't work out what it ought to be. And as some of these things are such big commitments, she knew she'd find it hard to come up with the necessary finances. So she prayed the issue through, trusting that if God wanted to give her a new lease on life, He'd certainly find some way of letting her know what it ought to be.

It happened that on the very week she prayed, several students, both past and current, mentioned to her that her input had positively impacted their lives in various ways. And as result of all these coincidences, she decided with certainty that she was simply supposed to be continuing with the very thing that she'd been doing for over twenty years. Sometimes we make it so hard for ourselves by downplaying our roles in life, trying to figure out something to do that we would deem more worthwhile than what we're already doing. But the fact is that we are already exactly where we need to be, doing the acts of quiet, nameless heroism that are making an impact whether or not we acknowledge them.

It reminds me of another true story I heard, about a guy who wanted to positively impact the world but he was too overwhelmed by the sheer scope of the world's problems to think that anything he could do would do any good. A friend of his mentioned that he'd been helping out serving soup at a homeless shelter and asked if he'd be interested in helping too. The guy really wanted to, but it seemed so futile. He asked his friend, 'How do you keep up your spirits when the lines of hungry people just keep growing?' The reply was, 'I have to confess that the reason I do this is because it keeps my spirits up. I know I can't solve the problem of world hunger but I know that every plate of food I prepare is going to somebody who really needs it and that makes me feel alive, more like the man I want to be.'

We see lots of gloom and doom on the news each night, but the world is full of quiet heroes who just get on with their jobs and make the world a better place.

The Risky Way Home

2008-10-10T13:10:00.003+10:30

These are the back and front covers of my new book, "The Risky Way Home." After lots and lots of preparation, it is just about ready to run off the press. So exciting. I can't begin to describe all the steps so I won't try. What do you think of it?

In case it's hard to read the back blurb, because I reduced it fairly small, this is what is says.

"Had Casey Miller known the peril that awaited her she might have turned down her dream job offer.

Things are definitely not as they seem and her personal judgments are turned upside down as she finds herself drawn into a story of terror and revenge that began twenty years earlier. All the while her heart is torn between two men; suave, polished Eric and calm, reclusive Piers.

This riveting novel will have readers unravelling mysteries with Casey and rejoicing in the choices she makes as she finally discovers the home of her heart."

Also, Andrew's been working on a new website design for me, to include the contemporary novels. Parts are still under construction but it's basically up and running if you'd like to click on the side icon in my blog and check it out. The new website even has a link to my blog, which is a good thing to have.

The Double Thank-you

2008-09-28T16:52:00.002+09:30

I found a good book in the second hand shop that was published in 1959. It's by a man called David Dunn about his hobby of "giving himself away", so I suppose you could say he was one of the pioneers of the Random Acts of Kindness movement. One of his chapters is actually not about giving but receiving. In fact, receiving graciously from others may be one of the finest forms of giving that many haven't properly mastered. I've noticed in my own life that some people are more "fun" to give to than others. There was a quote by Leigh Hunt who said, "To receive a present handsomely and in the right spirit, even when you have none to return, is to give one in return."

David Dunn mentioned his great idea of the "double thank-you" or "second thanks." The first thanks occurs when a person receives a gift and they thank the giver as an automatic etiquette response. Well, everyone does that. Aren't we all instructed to "Say Thank-you" from the time we're old enough to string two words together? This doesn't necessarily mean that the recipient even liked the present. It takes more of a skillful sort of receiver to give the Second Thanks, which is simply mentioning to the person down the track, how handy, beautiful or interesting you are still finding his gift.

David Dunn had this story to say. "Recently I had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of a second thanks. Four years ago I gave one of my nephews a metallurgical handbook as a birthday present, for which he thanked me appropriately at the time. Recently I received a letter from him saying that he'd changed his job, and that in his new work he had occasion to refer almost daily to the handbook I'd given him. He wanted me to know how useful my gift was proving. This note made so favourable an impression on me that I now have my eye peeled for other books to send this appreciative young man."

It makes such a lot of sense but people so often don't do it! Have you ever found yourself thinking, "I wonder if So-&-So liked the whatchamacallit I gave him?" This whole concept made an impression on me and I decided to make an effort to give the second thanks as often as I can. It's easy to give the first thanks but takes a bit of polish and finesse to give the second thanks.

A Brief Sea Change

2008-09-24T10:24:00.009+09:30

When my husband turned 40 back in June, his parents, brother and sisters all put in to give us a couple of nights away at a Bed & Breakfast while they looked after the kids. We were free to take it at any time so we decided to wait until the pleasant weather of early spring. And as Andrew was the birthday boy, he got to choose the location. He decided he'd like to go to a beach-side Bed & Breakfast, so last week-end we dropped the 3 kids off with his parents and set off to Port Elliot, on our South Aussie coast by the Southern Ocean.

It was the first time we've been away by ourselves without at least one of the kids since February 1994, which was a year before Logan, our 13yo was born. We did get to go on a lovely flight and stay in Hobart for 2 nights in 2004 while my sister looked after Logan and Emma, but as Blake was still only 7 months old, he came with us, of course.

We did lots of good, rugged coastal walks along cliffs. I was thinking about the kids and took these photos of danger signs, thinking they'd be amused. Some of the pictures are so descriptive, you really don't need to be literate to get the benefit of them. Maybe it's true that a picture speaks a thousand words.

Why write, "KEEP AWAY FROM THE EDGE OF THE CLIFFS" for example, when this sign does the job so much more effectively?

And then there's this one!

I hate to say I missed a wonderful photo opportunity when we were hiking up the Bluff in Victor Harbor. It was very steep, and I thought, "We already have plenty of good coastal photos so I'll leave the camera in the car." But on the way back down we came across a very bold echidna out in the open. He was quite content to keep grubbing about while we walked within about half a foot of him! Andrew even ventured to reach out and touch his needles, and he curled up quickly into a little ball. Still makes me want to kick myself when I think of how I missed showing the kids and putting a photo of him on this blog.

All I can say is that if I ever come across another nonchalent wild echidna I'll definitely take his photo, but as it's the first time it's ever happened to me, I don't fancy my chances. Oh well, we live and learn.

I got a few other nature photos; mostly sea birds like this shag.

This fellow is a Pacific Gull. He very kindly posed for me.

These are just common coastal seagulls, the type who screech and flock around anyone who they see has any food. In my teens I used to live near one of the beaches of Adelaide and there were always plenty. We don't get any at all up in the Adelaide Hills, so whenever I'm by the coast and see some, it brings back memories of my past. I wondered if they're anything like the American seagulls I read about.

We saw this pet rock. Nothing like getting the shot of the echidna of course, but I still thought it was quite cute. How could anyone resist a request like this. So I obliged....

....and this is what we saw.

Now that we're back, we settled back into normal routine pretty well straight away. It probably takes more than three days and two nights for a proper sea change, but it was a wonderful break from routine just the same. (I wonder if they'll do the same thing when I turn 40).

My lesson on perspective

2008-09-17T20:55:00.002+09:30

This one's going back five years but I never forgot it.

When Logan was still at school, there were plenty of other class mothers who were the professional type. They were alway on the run, wearing fancy tailored suits or official looking uniforms. I often felt a bit in awe of them and part of me wished that I had some sort of career identity too. And I often imagined that they must be sort of scornful of me and the other SAHMs. There was nothing I'd rather do than be at home looking after my house and family, yet I still felt intimidated by the way I imagined the 'professional' mums must be looking at me.

One of Logan's friend's mothers was a dental technician who worked in the clinic which services all of the school children in our district. Whenever any us took our kids in, we were bound to see her there in her crisp white uniform, either using the drills or giving advice about teeth cleaning. She was one of the ones I just a little in awe of and envious of.

Anyway, in 2003, just when I'd decided to begin homeschooling, Logan had been invited around to play with her son for the first and only time. When I went to drop him off, I had a chat with his friend's mother. We both mentioned the shortcomings we perceived in the school system and I told her of the decision we'd made to homeschool Logan, let Emma finish her year at kindy which she enjoyed and homeschool her too. And what she said to me nearly bowled me over.

It went something like this. "I wish with all my heart that I had the nerve to do something like that, and I really admire you but I'd never take the plunge. I know that you write books so you could manage homeschooling in a snap but I don't feel that clever and confident. All I can do is mix a filling. Big deal. All I can do is watch and admire people like you, because I see several homeschooled kids in the clinic and I take my hat off to their parents."

Well, needless to say I drove off with my head in a whirl. And all this time later I think that's probably been one of the significant conversations of my life. Whenever it occurs to me that people must look down on me for being 'just' a stay-at-home-mum, I remember, "No, that's not necessarily true." And whenver I sum a person up as having absolutely everything going for them and plenty of confidence, I remember, "That's not necessarily true, either." You just never know, do you?

The Protection Psalm

2008-09-11T10:55:00.002+09:30

I've had rather a sad week. Firstly, an old friend of ours died suddenly of a heart-attack, aged 49. His son used to be one of Logan's best friends when Logan was still at school and his wife was my walking partner and a very good friend. I've been to visit them and the funeral is tomorrow morning. Apart from being so upset for them, I've been feeling melancholy as I've remembered old times. Also, I heard that a friend's friend, aged 39, rolled her car and was killed just one kilometre from her home while her one year son in the back seat had only minor head injuries. And just last night as I was driving to my Bible Study group, one of the roads near our home had been cordoned off by the police. When I arrived I found out that somebody had only just been killed there. As I heard somebody say, also life is a very strong force, at times like this we see it is also extremely frail.

Incidents such as these seem to indicate that there is not much we can do to control our own destinies but I think there is one vital thing; the most important thing of all. We can trust the Person who does know what is going to become of us and holds our future in His hands.

I read an interesting story about Psalm 91 which has some bearing on all of this. It's always been one of my favourite Psalms and I learned that it is actually known as "The Soldier's Psalm." In World War One, the soldiers of the 91st Battalion decided to recite the 91st Psalm daily, because they were the 91st Battalion. This Battalion engaged in three of the War's bloodiest battles, yet although other units suffered up to 90% casualties, the 91st Battalion did not suffer a single combat related death. It would seem that when we are faithful enough to take God at His Word, He quickly shows us that He able and willing to keep His promises.

The writer said that we ought to plead God's shield daily in these uncertain times. We can confidently claim His rest, protection, safety, confidence and complete freedom from fear. I'm going to make a habit of praying it out loud as a covering for my family, not to twist God's arm as nobody can ever do, but to know that I am doing all I can do and all that He asks of me.

I'll just write down this version of it from the New Living Translation.

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God and I trust Him.
For He will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease.
He will cover you with His feathers. He will shelter you with His wings. His faithful promises are your armour and protection.
Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor the arrow that flies in the day. Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday.
Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you.
If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your home. For He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won't even hurt your foot on a stone. You will trample upon lions and cobras; you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet.
The Lord says, "I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my Name. When they call on me I will answer; I will be with them in trouble. I will rescue and honor them. I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.

On "Being the Change you want to see"

2008-09-03T11:25:00.002+09:30

While searching internet sites, I came across this inscription on the tomb of an Anglican Bishop in Westminster Abbey in 1100 AD. I thought it was very interesting in the light of what Mahatma Gandhi said several centuries later! How times never change! Here it is.

When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits, I dreamed of changing the world. As I grew older and wiser I discovered the world would not change, so I shortened my sights somewhat and decided to change only my country.

But it too seemed immovable. As I grew into my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt I settled for changing only my family, those closest to me, but also they would have none of it.

And now as I lie on my deathbed I suddenly realise: If I had only changed myself first, then by example I would have changed my family. From their inspiration and encouragement I would then have been able to change my country and, who knows, I may have even changed the world.

My Olympic Wrap-Up

2008-08-28T11:22:00.002+09:30

Well, it's all over for another 4 years. Those two weeks seem to fly. We've had the TV going pretty frequently over here but consider it an exceptional occasion. As usual, we were quite happy with the results.

Our swimming team did us proud again. A couple of our girls were outstanding, winning gold. The guys on our team were a little let down by ONLY winning silver on their main events. Perhaps we felt the loss of Ian Thorpe, who retired early, but people like Eamon Sullivan and Grant Hackett were fantastic anyway. It makes me think of something that I mentioned on this blog once before. Out of the 3 people standing on the podium, figure out the person who tends to get most depressed and need most counselling. It's not the bronze medallist, who is generally glad just to have won an Olympic medal, but the silver medallist, who regrets having been so close to the gold and just missing out. But I think the two fellows I mentioned realise that being second best in the world at their events is a momentous achievement anyway.

Having said all this, every other swimmer of every nation was overshadowed by Michael Phelps anyway. Wow, that guy is a powerhouse, a machine, and we all started backing him over here too, just to see if he could break that record of earning most golds at any single games.

I love it when surprising victories occur, such as our gold winning high-diver, Matthew Mitchum, who won his event on the very last day. I learned something from his story, too. Apparently two years ago, this young man decided his was getting disenchanted with diving and was on the verge of quitting. He stuck it out just for the sake of all that he'd already put into it and now he's made history.

I always find myself touched whenever I see a medal presentation, regardless of the nationality of the winner. There's something about hearing national anthems belted out that moistens the eyes. I know I'm an ignorant Aussie, but the only lyrics of "The Star Spangled Banner" I know are "Say can you see by the dawn's early light." I might look them up because I'm interested, it's such a stirring tune. I do know all the words to my own anthem, of course, but there was a time when that wasn't the case. When we used to sing "Advance Australia Fair" at Primary School, I'd never quite remember this line:- "In history's page, let every stage advance Australia, fair." Some of my friends, who knew even less, asked me and I said, "I think it's "For heaven's sake, let every state advance Australia fair." It fitted the tune so that was good enough for us.

So it's all over and I guess we'll start looking forward to London, 2012. Did you realise, the Olympic Games and the leap year happen in the same year? I figured that out during Athens 2004, the year my son Blake was born. Although he was overdue and wasn't born until March 26th, I was optimistic enough in late February to wonder if he might born on February 29th. Andrew and I were making a few jokes about how, if that happened, every three years we'd be able to tell him, "No party, it's not your birthday this year."

On that note I think I'll stop typing as I've already done a few deviations from the subject of the Olympics.

Funny things happen

2008-08-22T13:40:00.002+09:30

I know one of the most rewarding parts of home education is the humorous conversation we'd miss if our offspring were at school .

I was reading to the kids from a book with a character named "Stewie" and had to explain to Emma that it was almost certainly short for "Stewart."

She commented, "Stewie must eat lots of stews," and I gave an obligatory "ha ha."

Emma grumbled, "That wasn't a proper laugh. I'll bet if Logan made that joke, you'd be almost rolling on the floor laughing." Her older brother is the quiet type outside the house but he has an acerbic wit and a knack of being a natural comedian. Just recently, she is beginning to wonder why she finds it hard going to get the same response.

And Logan quirked an eyebrow and said, "Emma, come on, you have to admit, my jokes have a bit more class than 'Stewie eats lots of stews.'" And although it might not seem that funny, just the way he said it made me begin to laugh. He has the facial expressions to go with his comments. And when I started laughing, Emma began to get really mad and said, "See, I told you!"

She's really trying to figure out what makes a joke funny lately. Both she and Logan love stories I tell them about my Dad, their grandfather, while I was growing up. For example, once we were out at a flash restaurant for a celebration and Dad went to the toilet, leaving a tiny inch of wine at the bottom of his glass. While he was gone, a waiter came over and re-filled the glass to the top. Of course Dad didn't realise this. When he returned he decided to polish off his last bit of wine. Without even glancing at his glass, he tilted his head and flicked it back with a neat jerk of his wrist, ending up with a full glass of wine splashed all over his face.

Emma says, "Mum, Papa must've been funnier when you were growing up than he is now. Because when we visit him, he usually just likes to watch the sport on TV." But I tell her, "The thing is, he used to be just the same when he was middle-aged. He used to love sitting around watching sport then, too." The key with humorous moments is that they're like looking for a 4-leaf clover. When you search for them they're elusive but when you're just going about your day, that's when they occur. And if you want to get a collection of good family jokes you just need to remember them.

As Doctor Seuss said in "Old Fish, New Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish," from there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere!

Envy and Jealousy

2008-08-18T20:07:00.002+09:30

I'll tell you what I've learned re: the above subject since we started our homeschooling journey about five years ago.

It started around May 2003 when Logan, my eldest, was very unhappy in school. I yearned to begin homeschooling but wasn't certain I'd have what it takes. I started by contacting a few friends who were homeschoolers, and the more I found out about their lifestyles, the more I found a wistful sort of envy welling up in me. Their leisurely paced days, close-knit bonds with every family member in the home, freedom to have late nights out on weeknights and then sleep in the following morning, the interesting sounding, wide ranging curriculum that seemed available to them; it all appealed to me more than I could express. Well, those who've been reading my blog know what happened, of course. After five years, we've been doing it for quite awhile and even get the occasional phone call from families who are just starting out and want to make enquiries. It's a grand life and I wouldn't change it.

Yet I have to admit that some days a tiny spark of the old envy pops up very briefly for the opposite reason. This is usually when we've finished a long week with messes, bickering and Blake's energy level being stifled on rainy winter days. My envy sparks up when I hear remarks from other friends and family who are doing the traditional schooling thing. Remarks such as, "I know I can really get a lot of work done between 8.30 and 3.30 so I thank God for that quiet time," or, "I know I'll be able to give the house a thorough tidy up on Monday when I have nobody underfoot," or, "I thought I'd meet a friend at a coffee shop for a leisurely talk after I've done the school drop-off." A couple of young mothers I know are actually ticking off the weeks and months until their last pre-schoolers are off with their siblings, giving them much needed "free time." That's when I snap out of it and remember the trauma that having a school aged child really used to be. It was really horrible for all of us. Then I have a bit of a laugh at myself and human nature in general, which always sees greener grass on the other side of the fence, even when you've been grazing on both sides.

Our memories are still too fresh for us to ever return to traditional institutional schooling, although as Logan gets older we'd consider home-based, on-line courses for him, and later for his sister and brother. I find it really helps on those not-so-perky days to remind myself, "This is what we want to do! This is actually fun!" And it will be over all too soon, just as the past five years have flown.

Those Crosses

2008-08-13T16:51:00.002+09:30

Some of the aspects of writing and getting my latest book out have been annoying this last little while. I'm only going to use this first paragraph to summarise them all so here it comes. There's the loneliness, the expense, the misunderstandings with production people (which I might write about another time), the difficulty in sales, a certain lack of recognition and feedback, the constant re-writing, the time-consumingness of it all and the occasional reluctance to sit down and get on with it. And there are so many millions of other people out there who are writing excellent books, which begs the question does it even matter if I don't add to the glut? Without going on at length about any one of those, they've been enough to make me seriously consider whether it's worth going on with. A few times over these past few weeks I've thought I might throw it all in and say it's all too hard.

But then I remembered the great things about it. The fun of the creative side, the characters, the feedback that does come my way and the possibility of influencing and inspiring others. If there's anything that really makes me feel as if I'm doing what I should be doing, it'd have to be writing. And I remembered that when we don't do what we truly believe God has planned for us to do, then it's a sin of omission. There's too much good about it to consider giving up after all.

Sometimes, as Christians, we talk about 'bearing our Cross' and then when we have crosses to bear we just want to be rid of them. I know people who associate 'bearing our crosses' with standing up for our Christian beliefs in the face of persecution and even martyrdom. I think it covers this and even more. When Jesus spoke of cross-bearing in the gospels, he seemed to cover the inevitable annoyances that come with living your normal life and doing what you believe God wants you to do. "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take his cross daily and follow me," he said in Luke 9: 23. "Anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple" he added in Luke 14: 27. So all of that annoying stuff I mentioned in my first paragraph in regards to writing Christian fiction is simply part of what Jesus warned about, and a very small part I might add. If we want to pursue any dream we simply can't escape the inevitable frustrations that are bound to come with it. I think Jesus said this about crosses not to make us feel gloomy but to encourage us to simply remember what He said and deal with them.

Has anyone missed me?

2008-08-09T09:28:00.004+09:30

I honestly didn't intend to make my break so long but we've also had some unforeseen computer hassles. For awhile we were having real trouble with our internet connection. That was a pain in the neck, particularly because we didn't know if we were missing important emails, but all is well now. And then for a few weeks, I found I had a bit of what I can only call "blogger's block" during which I could hardly think of anything I thought worth saying. But now I'm back and will update with what we've been doing.

Blake and his naughty antics have been taking up a lot of my energy. He's our youngest, at 4 years old. Just lately he's been a real challenge. His older brother and sister, although they had their naughty moments, never used to throw such enormous tantrums and never dreamed of doing some of the things that he's been doing. For starters, my in-laws popped in one day when Blake didn't feel like seeing them. So he decided to flop on the floor and scream so loudly that none of us could hear anything that anyone was saying. I hauled him into his bedroom for some 'time out' but when I returned to our visitors, he started bashing and thumping the walls with anything he could lay his hands on. (Daddy, by the way, wasn't home for any of this. Although these hissy-fits appear totally spontaneous, Blake seems to choose his moments well.)

My mil suggested that he wasn't 'normal'. Perhaps we need to totally eliminate all possible chemicals and sweet foods from his diet, she thought. He might have some sensitivity to particular 'triggers'. I thought this sounded reasonable. However, when we thought about it, I wondered if it was really true. Many of those children I've heard of seem angry and uncontrollable at all times, or perhaps more consistently than he does. And Blake can be very docile and sweet when it suits him, with a very long concentration span. On the flip side of this long concentration span, he can keep his tantrums, crying fits and sulks going for far far longer than the other two ever used to. No, it seems to be plain bad temper. My older kids even said that he'd make a perfect case for "Super Nanny" and I think they were only half joking.

Another of his tricks has been to open the front door (because he's just worked out how to unlock it, drag over a chair and slide off the chain too), dash outside and race up the footpath as fast as he can. And he runs like an Olympic sprinter. Logan, Emma and I have really had to puff and pant chasing him down. But he grins and giggles. This one seems to be his little joke. Now that he can open all restraints on the door, I don't like it much. I've been trying to impress on him that running away could be dangerous.

I told some friends at our fortnightly Bible study that if Andrew and I had decided to call it quits with two children, we'd probably think we were quite good parents! I got quite a lot of encouraging feedback. Some of the children of others, who are now grown older, used to be very similar to Blake, they tell me. I was very relieved because these kids are now polite, well behaved members of the community.

So for now, we're just getting through this stage with him and trying to be consistent. If it's Emma's turn in the front seat, I'll just let Blake do his block in the back rather than caving in and letting him sit in the front for the sake of peace and quiet. Because that might be one of the factors that has turned him into a menace at times. In the past, I've often heard Logan tell Emma, "Let Blake have the biggest piece (or whatever) because he makes the biggest fuss if he doesn't get it." Definitely worth putting up with loud tantrums from him at this current time rather than having a complete obnoxious young man in the future. We're trying to explain each situation he objects to calmly and then not reinforce his behaviour with too much attention. But if these power struggles are what he's capable of, I feel sorry for the little girl he'll end up marrying. We'll have to persevere with lots of prayer and trust that he'll break through his 'nice person' barrier one day too.

Having said all this, he's very cute and smiley. Nobody sweeter when he's in a happy mood. I guess that's another of his weapons.

Another thing that's happened is that we've got a baby guinea pig. Emma found out that some friends of hers had a little male, Red American guinea pig (I think that's what they said he is) to give away, and she pleaded for him. So Andrew built a good sized hutch and we now have Bamboo as a new member of the family. I don't really know why she called him that but she wouldn't consider any other name. What's surprised me is that I've taken such a liking to him myself. Some readers of my blog may know of my extreme aversion to mice and rats. Yet this little rodent, who I admits looks very rat-like except for his wider nose and lack of a hairless tail, is charming!

I'll also mention that last night we watched the Olympic Games opening ceremony and it was so magnificent, I'm still thinking about it. Beijing put on a flawless show! Emma, who currently has a fascination with anything Chinese, and has watched the "Mulan" movies over and over, was spellbound. I love opening ceremonies. They're almost breathtaking enough to wait four years for. We're very interested in the Games in our family. One of Emma's little friends told her, "I don't know what all the fuss is all about" and Logan's opinion when he heard that was very gruff and sharp.

Watching the athletes parade is a very good experience for kids to understand just how many different nations our world contains. Emma badly wanted to see our own team walk in and I told her that she could, but they turned out to be almost last out. I think only China, the hosts, were behind them. She was getting very bleary-eyed and cross as it was getting closer to 1 am. It reminded me of watching our Christmas pageant when the commentators keep saying, "Santa Claus isn't far away." Last night it was, "The Aussies aren't too far now!" and we found out they were 202nd! The rest of us were having fun identifying the world leaders and athletes (especially tennis players) from the other nations.

This has been a particularly long blog post, so I must have a lot to make up for. I'll catch up with others this afternoon and I'm REALLY looking forward to that as I've missed you all. Will keep our eyes on the Games and no doubt share thoughts about them.

Blessings,
Paula

Having a bit of a rest

2008-07-14T16:43:00.002+09:30

It's winter holiday time and I've been taking a bit of a rest from several things, which turn out to include blogging also. Will soon be back to talk about what's been going on.
Blessings to all,
Paula

How far God's love can take you - Mathematical Proof

2008-07-02T14:13:00.002+09:30

Although I don't have a passion for Maths, this email from a friend was stunning enough to make me sit up and take notice. I thought I'd share it. I'd love to see what you others think of this.

What equals 100%?
What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?
We've all been in situations where someone wants us to give over 100%
What equals 100% in life anyway?
This little Math formula might help answer these questions.

If A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z is represented as:-
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

then H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K is
8 + 1 + 18 + 4 + 23 + 15 + 18 + 11 which equals 98%

and K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E is
11 + 14 + 15 + 23 + 12 + 5 + 4 + 7 + 5 which equals 96%

But A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E is
1 + 20 + 20 + 9 + 20 + 21 + 4 + 5 which equals 100%

Then look how far the love of God will take you.
L-O-V-E-O-F-G-O-D is
12 + 15 + 22 + 5 + 15 + 6 + 7 + 15 + 4 which equals 101%

Therefore one can conclude with mathematical certainty that while Hard Work and Knowledge will get you close and Attitude will get you there, it's the Love of God that will put you over the top!

Pretty cool, don't you think?

We might never know!

2008-06-28T18:41:00.002+09:30

We've all had bad colds around here this week. Andrew started it, followed by Blake, Logan and myself. It's one of those woozy types where your head spins and you feel as if you might keel over when you walk. At least, it was that way for me. Our 4yo Blake developed a very chesty cough but didn't seem to lose any energy.

However, I've managed to get a bit of reading done. I found a fascinating passage in a book and I'll quote the author word for word.

"I often think of Abraham Lincoln as he left the Gettysburg battlefield after his address. We think today that Lincoln must have realised that this Gettysburg address would live in men's hearts but how could he possibly have known? After the long, flowery speech of Edward Everett, the orator of the day, which drew thunderous applause from the crowd, Lincoln's simple speech was received in silence. He could not know that his hearers were so moved by his message that applause would have seemed sacrilege. He could not foresee that his words one day would be cast in imperishable bronze and taught to every school child in the land. He could not know - because no-one told him."

The point in this chapter of my book was that we ought all ought to praise and congratulate anybody for anything that we perceive is good, even when we feel shy or think they'd be too great to appreciate it. While I agree wholeheartedly with this, something else struck me about this passage. And that is the fact that can't gauge the impact of our words or actions by the response we receive in the short term!

I thought of other famous people I've read about. Poor old Vincent VanGogh, who never sold a painting in his life! He left them all moulding away in his brother's garage, feeling like an amateur and a hassle for his family all his life. Only after his death was he heralded as a great artistic genius. When I was little, my parents had his painting of the sunflowers hanging in their entrance hall for years. He never even knew the acclaim he'd receive.

And one of my personal heroines, Emily Bronte, author of Wuthering Heights, also died young never knowing that her one and only novel would be canonised as one of the great literary masterpieces of the nineteenth century. The novel's reviews that she read while she was still alive were somewhat more critical and dubious than they were the following century. She never knew.

This may all sound bleak and sad, but I actually took it as a very positive thought that cheered me up. It made me think that each of us, plodding about our daily lives and trying to be creative in our own ways, never know how far-reaching our work may be in the future either! Sometimes I get a bit jaded and discouraged by what I perceive as lack of appreciation and impact, as I'm sure many of us probably do. But the thoughts of these famous heroes who lived before us helps me understand that feeling gloomy about how much recognition we're receiving are a complete and utter waste of time. We just have to keep following what we feel God had put in our hearts and forget about how it's being received.

Because we just might never know.

Who is this mystery man?

2008-06-21T12:46:00.002+09:30

I'm talking about Francis Gay, the man writes the Friendship Books which come out each year. I think they must be sold around the world so most people might know them. The books with the little purple covers entitled, "Friendship Book for (whatever year it is)" Inside there is a thought, quotation, small story or reflection for each day of the year. He lives somewhere in the English countryside and calls his wife the "Lady of the House."

I used to collect Friendship Books in my teens, but sold them at a market several years ago to make space on my shelf. Still, a few filter their way into the house from time to time. At the start of the year, when I saw the 2008 one for sale I started thinking he must surely be getting a bit old. I used to own one for my year of birth, 1969 and he's still churning them out!

But what really fascinated me this week was reading the fly leaf of a 1995 Friendship Book. It said they've been "delighting readers since 1939." He's more than old! He must be ancient! I figured out that if he started writing them when he was 20, because it seems incredible that he would've been any younger, he'd have to be just about 90 now and still on the job. Thinking of something uplifting to say for every single day from 1939 til 2008 is a pretty impressive feat.

I looked him up on internet but couldn't find any articles, or anything at all much about him, so he must also be fairly modest, humble and elusive. Pretty weird when you think about it, that after all this time, not so much as one photograph has been circulated. Surely his inspiration must run dry one day, but I'll be sorry not to them for sale each year.

Pretty big prize!

2008-06-16T16:48:00.004+09:30

Somebody at our church grew this massive pumpkin in their garden and set up a fundraiser. We were all invited to pay $1.00 to guess its weight and the person with the closest guess would win the pumpkin. With her dad's help, Emma gauged her guess on Blake's weight. It felt a certain number of kilos heavier than him, so she guessed 20 kilos.

As you can guess from the photos, she won the prize. She's very stoked about that, as she's entered a few competitions in the past that she didn't win. The prizes she missed out on would have been vouchers, money and many of the good things from Barbie magazines. But she seems happy with the pumpkin!

We're pleased too, to think of all the lovely pumpkin soups, pies, scones, cakes, tarts and dampers that we can make, yet we're certain this baby is still too big for just one family of five. We've been warned that it's been off the vine for two weeks so we've been phoning friends and relatives and offering chunks.

If anybody has some delicious, simple pumpkin recipes, I'd be delighted to give them a try, as we'll be using it for quite a long time to come. So send them to us via comment or email, please! I'd appreciate it.

Haven't meant to spend so long not blogging....

2008-06-11T15:31:00.003+09:30

but a few things have happened around our place in early June, not the least of which was Andrew's 40th birthday. He was still 22 when I met him and almost 24 when I married him 16 years ago. I can remember a time when 40 sounded sort of long in the tooth to me but now it just sounds like a person who's been round long enough to earn a lot of experience and some sound common sense. One of the funniest cards he had was a little knight dressed in full shining armour on the front. Inside it said, "Welcome to the Middle Ages!"

I can actually remembered his 30th birthday as if it was a lot less than ten years ago, although when I think about it, a lot has happened in that time. We only had Logan and I was about 4 or 5 months pregnant with Emma. Time is a funny thing. A day can sometimes drag like a year yet a decade can feel like a few months.

Anyway, he didn't want a big party so we organised a dinner out at Fasta Pasta with both his side of the family and mine. That was last Saturday.

Now here's what happened yesterday. I kept an appointment that had been longstanding with a skin specialist down in the city. Because I'm a very fair skinned person with a few freckles on my arms and back, a doctor thought it wise to refer me to be checked by a skin specialist. Fair skin and dark hair that attracts the sun, seems to be a possible recipe for problems. But after a long wait in her waiting room, I was given the all clear and she said I probably don't need to see her for another ten years. So that was the good news.

I searched through my pockets and handbag and couldn't find my keys. Only then did I discover that I'd locked them in my car! I took out my mobile phone but had no credit on it to make a call! So I searched through my purse for coins and only had enough for one at a public phone booth in a nearby shopping mall. I tried to call my parents, who were looking after my two youngest kids. They only live about twenty minutes away from the clinic. But nobody answered so I figured they must've all gone out.

I phoned home instead, where Logan, my oldest son, was having a day to himself. I told him what had happened. "Will you call Dad on his mobile and ask him to give me a call?" Although I had no credit on my phone, at least I could receive calls. Andrew was doing a bit of work not all that far away and I thought I could ask him to quickly drive to that clinic and unlock my door with his spare key. But time lapsed and I got no call from Andrew. I guessed Logan must've had trouble getting through to him.

I began to think I'd been a bit silly not to call the RAA Road Assistance crew to come and rescue me in the first place. That would've been much more sensible than wasting my one possible call on poor old Logan, who wasn't really in a position to help. Now I was stuck with no money left and unable to make more phone calls. So I figured the only option left was to begin the walk back to my Mum and Dad's place. Although it was only a twenty minute drive, it was quite a lot longer walking. After some time trekking across the city, I'd actually made it quite a long way when my phone began buzzing. Andrew had finally got Logan's message. I explained my dilemma and he said, "You should've just called the RAA. It's cheaper for them to come than me, anyway." So much for that! But he phoned my parents, who'd taken Emma and Blake for a walk to the shops, and told them what had happened. Dad drove and picked me up on the last leg of my walk. I had a cup of tea with them and finally phoned the RAA. Then Dad dropped me back to the dermatology clinic to wait for them. Then I decided to just spend the waiting time relaxing and enjoying the fresh air.

What a run-around, but at least it was a reasonably crisp and clear early winter day for a walk. Somebody else helped me put it all in perspective. As I started for the RAA, a lady who'd been in the waiting room way back when I was still there came back out of her appointment at last. I told her what had happened to me and she said she'd mixed up her appointment time and had to wait in the clinic for almost four hours!

So whenever you're having one of those days, I guess somebody else is too.

I'm glad they did it!

2008-05-31T10:15:00.002+09:30

It's new material for the kids and I'm going over excellent reading matter from my past while I share it with them. We've been reading together parts of two of my favourite old series. One is the "Little House" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder and the other is the "All Creatures Great and Small" series by James Herriot. And whenever I read either of these two authors I'm caught up in the magic they wove. Even though these two authors may seem poles apart, they actually have a lot in common.

Both of these series are autobiographical but written in very entertaining story styles. Both were written when their authors had grown quite old and were looking back over their own lives. They each decided to leave their own legacy in writing and I'm so grateful they did. What a lot of history, geography and even science are tied into these fun, human-interest books. Putting us readers into their own places with their descriptions has to got to be my favourite way to learn.

We've learned a lot about that pioneer time in America when Laura and her family were moving west that's helped us put our own lives in perspective. And we have a real feeling for the late 1930s in Yorkshire when James first became a vet, not to mention noticing the vast progress in technology that's happened in those 70 years. And we've cracked up laughing at some of his hilarious anecdotes. I can't help thinking that if neither of these authors had written, we'd be so much poorer without knowing it.

Of course that started me speculating about the number of people with fascinating stories who think they couldn't possibly record them and don't bother trying. Or the ones who do and then leave them in their cupboards. So I'm sure we are already poorer without knowing it in thousands of ways. Anyone with a knack or passion for writing and recording in an interesting way ought to regard it as a sort of duty to record them because we never know who we'll touch. Even if it's unlikely that we'll become as famous as Laura Ingalls Wilder or James Herriot, doing it just for the love of it and for those who may be touched is a worthwhile enough goal anyway.

I'm beginning to toy with the idea of writing my own grandfather's story this way. I never knew him. He died almost ten years before I was born but I've just recently got to know him through typing my own father's family history. My grandfather (his father) was born in 1892. He had lots of interesting things happen to him. He served in both wars and he was the boxing champion of South Australia for several years. There is lots of information about him, including several funny anecdotes that happened around the country-side and in the ring. Yes, I'm thinking I wouldn't mind writing his story in a sort of novel form when I finish the fictions I'm working on because he's a man I think many would find interesting.

Lists of things to be done

2008-05-27T14:22:00.003+09:30

I never considered myself much of a list person. I never considered myself a person with a life that's too full, either. I try to take care not to cram it with too much because whenever I do I get easily overwhelmed. But sometimes I wake up with a feeling that there's a surprising lot to be done for a person who just wants to live a simple life homeschooling her family and doing a bit of writing. And it all seems to be urgent. So I started writing it all down on a list to keep track of it. And I discovered to my astonishment that these urgencies are most often quite little things.

Here are some examples.
Buy birthday cards for Andrew's sisters
Answer 3 emails
Remind Emma to write a thank-you note for a bracelet she was given
Tell Andrew we need to renew an account
Pick up Logan's new epipen from the chemist
Organise for carpets to be cleaned before rental inspection
Buy a few groceries
Clean through cupboards
Ironing
Get car oil changed
Plan a couple of Sunday School classes

I know we all get the idea. I was stressed but I was surprised to notice that I was stressed chiefly with little things. Although they are all little things they quickly multiply if I just leave them whirling through my head. I could make it into a sum. Little thing + little thing + little thing + little thing etc = stress. I'd been inclined to wake up in the morning thinking, 'I've got so much to do.' But they can't all fit into one day. So I started jotting down everything on a master list that I've called WTDTW (What to do this week). Then I itemise each one into WTDT (What to do Today). I try to make sure to include a few boring nasties to spread them out evenly. And I have to say, it has been helping. I've been ticking them off as I go through them and feeling as if I've been getting everything done with not so much running around.

Here's a prime example. I had to visit the local High School to enrol Logan on their books as a homeschooler. It's something our state requires us to do, just to keep track of all school aged students. Logan and his sister have been enrolled on the Primary School roll book as homeschoolers, but the Primary School have notified us that they'll be removing him this year as he's now a highschooler. If they hadn't reminded me I probably wouldn't have given it a thought. So we had to chase up all the people at the High School and fill out a lot of red tape and rub shoulders with all the big, loud senior students in the corridors on our way to the office. That's a perfect example of something that takes time from your day, isn't a pleasant task but really needs to be done. Just a one-off sort of thing, but one-offs keep coming up. (I'll have to go and enrol Blake at the Primary School as a home-schooler next year.) And if I hadn't started my list system and had it there in black-&-white staring at me, I'm sure I wouldn't have got around to it yet. So something as simple as jotting things down is working for me.

Book stall at homeschool seminar

2008-05-20T10:55:00.002+09:30

A few weeks ago I was invited to set up a stall to sell my "Quenarden" books at a homeschool seminar to be run on May 17th. I accepted the opportunity although I was secretly doubtful if I'd sell many. My books hardly ever seem to move at formal venues for reasons which I'll mention soon. Anyway, I'd already donated free copies of my first Quenarden novel, "The Prophecies" which were in the showbags provided for the seminar. So I printed up several copies of my discussion questions in booklet form. (Anyone who's interested could find these questions on my website anyway). But I thought that if I gave away a set of discussion questions with every copy of Book 2 or 3 I sold, homeschoolers might like that.

It was pouring with rain on Friday when Emma and I drove down to the city to set up our space. We're not used to wet weather at the moment and the Freeway was covered with thick fog at 3.30 in the afternoon. Motorists were made to crawl down from the hills into the city at 80kph, which suited me fine. When we managed to find the Adelaide Deaf Centre, which was the venue for the seminar, we had to dash across with heavy boxes full of books getting soaked. We set up the table with our pretty tablecloths and ornate boxes to give what I hoped would be a "Quenarden-ish" sort of effect and then drove home again.

Next morning was still very blustery. I made 2 stops on the way down. I dropped Logan off at my sister's place to spend the day with his cousins, and then Blake off with my parents who live close to the city. Now, to cut a long story short, although I chatted with several browsers and made my voice hoarse, by the end of the day I only made one sale of one book for $15.00! And as I had to pay $13.00 for the hire of the trestle, my profit for the day was only $2! Of course if I remove the cost of petrol making two trips down and back, not to mention a couple of books I bought from other stalls, the venture actually cost me money. Still, as Andrew says, this P.R. sort of thing really needs to be done and we might make more sales out of it in the future.

Although trestle tables groaning with goods and curriculum filled the auditorium, I don't know if any other sellers earned much money either. I'd been looking at those 2 books I finally bought for hours before I actually purchased them. Here's my theory on why I think it's harder to sell at formal venues. There are just too many other sellers doing the same thing. When a huge choice is involved, potential customers decide it's too hard to make decisions and opt to hold on to their money instead.

We read the story of a family of jam and preserve manufacturers who set up 30 samples of every single flavour they produce. At the end of the day, although they'd received many compliments they hardly sold one jar of jam. Next time they only put out two flavours for sample; apricot and strawberry. As a result, sales of all 30 varieties soared and they made record profits! Surely this can't be coincidence. I've made more sales of books at places like my launch, where the only person selling books is me. I guess it's nice to take every opportunity, although I'm now always cynical about how much I'll sell.

Anyway, the day wasn't a total write-off. I did win a raffle door-prize of 3 teenage novels tied up with pretty string along with the free showbag of goods (which included my own Quenarden novel! Just what I needed. Another one of those!) So although I was sort of exhausted and demoralised as far as my own efforts were concerned, life's still grand! Never quitting needs to be one of my mottoes.

Sixteen good years

2008-05-15T21:21:00.003+09:30

Last Friday night we celebrated our wedding anniversary. Yes, on May 9th, 1992, Andrew and I tied the knot. Sixteen years sounds like such a long, long time to everybody, until everybody remembers that Logan is now thirteen, which puts things into perspective. Time is a funny thing. One single day or week can feel like an eternity while a decade can feel like a flash. Although 1992 doesn't seem all that long ago, things have certainly changed since then.

Last Friday night the kids spent some time with my in-laws while Andrew and I enjoyed ourselves locally. We had dinner and then saw a movie at the Wallis Cinema complex. They are both part of the same place so we bought a "Meal Deal." The movie we chose was "Smother" which I really enjoyed. Although it's not normally Andrew's style, he doesn't mind the occasional romance/drama.

One of my biggest mistakes perhaps was setting my wedding date so close to Mother's Day. I clearly remember thinking, "It just has to be fairly early in May, otherwise winter will set in and then we won't be able to get married until September or October and that'll be terrible!" If some wise person had reminded me that I was going to be married to Andrew for ever after so a few months wouldn't have made all that much difference anyway, I would've been aghast. So I tend not to give young people in their teens and early twenties that sort of advice.

The reason why it might've been a mistake is because I already have my birthday and Christmas sandwiched together on December 24th and 25th, and I didn't have any control over that one. Now May 9th is always only a day or two away from Mother's Day and I'm the one who set that one up. So now I feel as if there are only two little blocks of time in the year for me to celebrate special occasions while many other women have 4 separate ones, and then I do feel a little bit jipped sometimes. But forgive my grumbling. When I think about it, this is not such a bad problem to have.

Chickened out

2008-05-10T10:20:00.002+09:30

I needed to take my kids to the doctor last week and while we were sitting in the waiting room, a good looking young guy walked in to pick up a referral. He made me sit up and take notice because he looked just like my idea of one of the heroes in the book I've just finished revising and re-writing. It's very rare that I come across people who are dead-ringers for my characters. For anybody who has seen my "Quenarden" covers, my hubby and I actually went to one of the local schools to snap photos of any young teens who might be interested in being on a cover. Although the people we ended up asking looked close to the characters I had in mind, they weren't carbon copies like this fellow.

The young man I saw looked like a character named Piers from my new one, "The Risky Way Home." He was tall and slim with dark, shaggy curls and in his early twenties. As he breezed out with his referral I considered getting up and chasing him down the road to ask, "Excuse me, would you like to be on the cover of a book?" But I chickened out. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And I could imagine the embarrassment my kids, especially my oldest son, would display if I did such a thing. Yet I couldn't help wondering if I'd let a serendipitous opportunity slip by.

My daughter asked later, "What do you think he would've said?" and I told her, "I honestly don't know. It's not the sort of situation people find themselves in often, if ever." He'd possibly would have been flattered but I couldn't do it. I'm the girl who came second to bottom on the extroversion-intraversion test we all had to do in Psychology at Uni (meaning I was way down on the introversion side). If my husband had been with us I might've asked him to do it. I clearly remember an occasion when I'd just met Andrew and we were having a country walk together. There was an artist set up with his easel along the side of the road. I'd have normally just smiled hello and walked on, but Andrew insisted that we go over to see what he was painting. Even though this was about 17 years ago, I remember how Andrew told the guy, "I always thought I'd like to be an artist," to which the man replied, "Oh, you like to starve, do you?" But I wished I had the courage to approach interesting strangers with such ease and lack of restraint.

In this particular incident, the only thing that makes me not too disappointed is that this time, our intention is to veer away from people in the pictures and do something different anyway, which I won't say much about because when we have something to show, I'll show it instead. But if this young guy had been asked and agreed, I might've considered changing my mind.

Top Self-Help Books

2008-05-06T15:00:00.002+09:30

I accidentally logged onto a list compiled by a man named Tom Butler Bowden. After conducting lots of research and interviews, he wrote down what he believed to be the top 50 self-help books of the 20th century (although some of the books on it were from earlier time periods). Now, as I'm often on the look-out for a good self-help book as often as a good fiction, I skimmed down the list with interest. To my surprise, I found I'd already read almost half of them. And for some that I hadn't read, I'd read other books by the same author.

Here are some of the self-help books that I've actually read.

The Bible (which was listed surprisingly as number 6)
The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell
Don't Sweat the Small Stuff by Richard Carlson
How To Win Friends & Influence People by Dale Carnegie
7 Spiritual Laws of Success by Deepak Chopra
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey
Real Magic by Wayne Dyer
Self-Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Creative Visualisation by Shakti Gawain
Women Who Run with Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, by Dr John Gray
You can Heal your Life by Louise Hay
Feel the Fear & Do it Anyway by Susan Jeffers
Psycho-Cybernetics by Dr Maxwell Maltz
The Power of Positive Thinking by Dr Norman Vincent Peale
The Road Less Travelled by M Scott Peck
The Game of Life and How to Play it by Florence Scovell Shinn

And this is not to mention several that could've been mentioned and would surely be in the top 100, such as "The Power of Now" by Eckart Tolle, "Think & Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill, and several Christian classics such as "The Practise of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence and "The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life" by Hannah Whitall Smith.

My first impulse was to feel very tired, thinking of all those words I've read in the quest to turn myself into a better person which started far back in my teens. Yet I still feel like the same person, who is basically earnest and insecure, looking out for the next book full of life-changing wisdom. You think I would've been some sort of guru by now!

Is this to say that I think I've wasted my time reading all these self-help books? Well, I'd have to say no. Some of those books are real gems. I can remember scribbling down what I regarded as life-changing quotes from many of them. I have taken a lot of the advice on board. And it definitely has changed my life. "The Power of Positive Thinking" is the book that prompted me to become a Christian back when I was 17 for example. So if they've done their job and changed my life, why do I keep reading more and more and more?

This might not sound very profound but I think it's because I don't want to feel as if I'm missing out on anything good. It's the same reason why I sometimes feel frustrated and flustered when I look at all the great homeschooling curriculum that's available and know that I can't buy the lot. "This is pretty good but what if this other one in the catalogue is absolutely mind-blowing?" Well, it seems there's only one way to find out. I can see why the quest can turn into a treadmill with this sort of attitude. And a treadmill isn't what I want to be on.

So I took another look at that list and noticed something else. Many of them express exactly the same principles, in each author's own unique style of course. There were even groupings of books that encourage you to follow your dream, books that speak about the human condition, books about changing the way you think and so on. So looking at this list has taught me that all of the wisdom I need to get by in life is already lined up in these volumes on my loungeroom shelf. The Bible alone has enabled thousands of fantastic men and women to live their best lives. So I can jump off that treadmill and read self-help books in a less fevered, more relaxed manner, not because I'm afraid I'm missing something important and new but simply because they are more wholesome food for my brain than more depressing literature.

It's actually made me feel pretty good.

Mosquito Ring Tones

2008-05-01T16:02:00.002+09:30

My son told me about this one. He saw a story on the news. It seems a number of school students have downloaded ring tones on their mobiles that sound like annoying mosquito drones but the frequency is such that nobody under the age of 30 can hear them. That way they manage to text messages to each other in class without the teachers hearing, although all of the students can.

We had to look this phenomena up on internet to put it to the test. Visit www.freemosquitoringtones.org and check it out for yourselves. They have a range of mosquito drones starting from one that everyone can hear all the way down to one that you can hear only if you are 18 years old or under.

Of course I could hear the one that everyone can hear. I could clearly hear the one that people under 50 can hear but by the time it got down to the one that only people under 39 can hear, it was so extremely faint as to be almost inaudible. And Logan expressed his amazement that I couldn't hear it because to him it was identical to the one that 50 year olds can hear. Of course by the time it got down to the ones that only people under 24 and teens could hear, I could hear absolutely nothing! Amazing.

Logan tells me a fellow on the news tested them out and when he couldn't hear them, he thought it was all a big hoax, but a young visitor in the next room called out, "Can you stop making that awful racket!" And it seems most school students choose the tones for under 30s for their classtime text-messaging.