Pink is the new red

    It was very exciting. This day was her very first sports day. She had been to many similiar events and cheered as her sisters won ribbon after ribbon. At last it was her turn. Today was her day.This was her kindy sports day
   There was only one problem. She was on the red team.
   Red was okay. She didn't mind, but she didn't own any red t-shirts. So Mum had loaned a shirt from her teacher. But it was branded with the word Kindy. Everyone would know it wasn't hers. There was no time to get to the shops, but Mum had a plan. This morning they were going to visit friends who had lots of red shirts and she could have one of theirs.
   But they were all too big! So many shirts, but they were for school kids and she was still a kindy kid. On the way home and she tried to listen to her Mum's gentle persuasion that the kindy shirt would be fine.
Her big sister helped her put it on. It was massive. Not too big like the others, but massive. It was all too hard for her to bear.
   'I'm not going! I hate sports days. I'm staying home all day!'
   She retreated under her bed, right to the wall where she felt safe. Where noone could laugh at her. Where there was no chance of not winning. Her sisters always won. Now she was ugly and a loser. The agony was just too much and her tears pooled onto the floor.
   'Maybe the kindy has a smaller t-shirt.' Mum always had an answer, but Mum had to work and couldn't go. Who would ask?
   'I'll talk to your teacher.' Big sisters were close to mothers, but never quite the same. She contemplated the idea.
   Mum found a big red ribbon and reluctantly she emerged to have it tied in her hair.
   Grandma tried to adjust the big shirt. It was disgusting! She took it off and searched for something else to wear until she got to kindy. In the drawer they found an old pink shirt. It matched her shorts and her cap. It was the right size. Maybe she could manage. She took a deep breathe and put it on and marched to the car.
    No one noticed. Pink is faded red really. She knew that. She wasn't wearing blue or green or yellow. She lined up with the red team and marched into the day. She even won the three legged race, until they swapped partners and tried again and then she managed to say, 'Good run,' just as Mum had taught her.
   It was such fun. And everyone won. And she was presented with a gold medal, like every other kid.
Go home? No, she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay. Ah, yes. Miss Four loved sports day.

Some weeks feel like blah

   Thank God for the challenging weeks! As Steve said the other day, some weeks seem to blend into blaahhh. There is that sense that one has survived, rather than thrived, stayed alive rather than contributed to the on going good of either society as a whole or the fulfilment of our personal plans.

   Is that the truth? Or is it an emotional perception that pervades our thinking and we start to believe the niggling thought that we are just a waste of space?
   Or is there a reason for those times when we feel unproductive and unsuccessful?
   We measure production and success on things achieved. We are, after all, a product of the twenty-first century where great achievement is measured in gold medals, rising share prices or 'A's on a report card. 
   Yet we as people we quickly dump our 'stars' when the media discloses some impropriety. We don't even bother to check if the story is true. We don't allow for the pressure that our adulation has caused, or the fact that they are now living daily in a reality TV show environment, caused by our fascination. 
   We jump up and down on our couches in front of our wide screens and complain about the standard they are setting for our kids. We condemn their loss of control as we bellow at our kids because we are too lazy to lever our own bodies up and walk the length of the hall to relate to our family members.
   Jesus said something about exposing the splinter in the other's eye, whilst ignoring the plank in our own. We don't mean to ignore it. We just don't even realise it is there.
   But I digress.
   What is success? As a Christian, how do I measure success? I don't believe that God meant for us to live under such a hard task master as that which we place upon our own shoulders.
   We look back on a week where I have spent much time sitting in my chair due to a back problem and Steve has seen doors closing, rather than opening. Is that a wasted week? 
   I must take time to look for the flecks of gold among the dust and debris. And I see many flecks. One friend has reported complete freedom from pain after I prayed, on the phone, for the stabbing pain in her shoulders. And today I sat and held hands with an old friend that I've seen rarely in the last 25 years and listened as she poured out her struggles. I've spend the afternoon with some of my grand-kids, sat with another friend who is house bound. As I dig deeper, I've appreciated the comforts of my home which I so often take for granted and I've been reminded what a great hubby I have as he did hours of ironing!
   But what about the 'to do' lists that aren't done? The clients that haven't signed up? The person that I missed  caring for?
   Firmly, I remind myself that my task is to forget what lies behind and press onward to my calling. My first task is to worship the King of Kings, to go after His Kingdom and then everything else falls into place.
   Yes, I'm glad I remembered that. I feel better now.

The Bud Takes a Risk

I love the quote, by Anais Nin

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

It caused me to think ….

When a bud is closed tight, it is protected from the wind and rain.  Its delicate petals and stamens are enclosed, safe from harm, bundled up tight and secure. But the pressure is building!  Some thing is pushing them, one against the other and gossip is that at the top of the bud, the protective case has split and some of the petals are being pushed out!

Some of the petals shimmered in excitement at the prospect of being free, of being able to move as they wished, of greeting the ‘Sun’ that they had heard so much about.  Others were more cautious – fearing unnecessary change!  Now the report had come back from the top petals that the sun was dulled, and they were being battered by the wind.  They were trying to get back in the bud – and all that was doing was increasing the split – and other petals were exposed.

One big petal was very quiet in all the ensuing discussion!  He knew he was close to the Sun now. He had waited so long! He pushed up and out with all his might.  He could see the split just above him now! 

He determined to try again. ‘I must get a glimpse!’  So he focussed and tried again.  He pushed and pushed and the pressure was too much for the bud and it split down the side.  The petal turned his eyes outward.  What wonder! What fresh air!  The smells! The perfume!  The possibilities!  The freedom!

 “It is wonderful, just wonderful!” He yelled to the petals behind him, Urging the to follow.  “Come on!  Let’s show the world how beautiful we are!”

“But, the risk!” The other petals weren’t sure. “Let’s stay here – it is more comfortable now the bud is split!”

Just then a little voice was heard outside.  “Daddy, come quick.  The bud is opening!!  Look at the beautiful colour!”  

“Can you smell the perfume?”

“No, Daddy, no smell!”

 “You will be able to smell it when all the petals are open.  It will be wonderful.”

The petals were all quiet for a few moments.  Suddenly they understood!  To bloom would eventually cost them everything.  But to bloom is what they were created for.  To remain a bud and die on the vine was unthinkable.  

“We must bloom.  We must all push together.  We must be the best, most attractive bloom.  Then the bees will come and sup with us, and though we die we will actually live forever!”

PS  A week later a satisfied petal lay under the vine, blown against the fence.  His colour was fading, but his perfume was still strong.  They had done well.  The little girl had admired them everyday – but more importantly they had opened themselves completely to the Sun – and the bees had come.  And as he looked up to the vine, even now he could see the swelling, just below the last few petals, that spoke of fruit, with its promise of new life.  Near him on the ground was a bud – it had never opened itself to the Sun.  The vine had dropped it to the ground as useless.  How sad to have never experienced the Sun – to never have reached fulfilment!  How thankful he was that the big petal had the vision and courage to lead them out!

I resigned to myself

   Yesterday I considered firing myself. I became so frustrated with my own inefficiencies. This staff member is a drain on our company. Her mistakes are taking valuable time. Get rid of her!
   Then I was challenged. God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. I also know the law in our country. Three warnings are required before I could replace myself. So I gave myself a warning in the nicest possible way! And came home!
   Why all this drama. I am the bookkeeper in our family's business. It only requires my attention about twenty hours a month. I'm good at figures, so it can't be that bad.
Problem #1. There are lots of other things that demand my attention, so I try to do the work in ten hours!
Problem #2. While I loved maths, I'm not good with detail. I'm innovative, creative. So I think of the fast way of doing things. I'm the queen of cutting corners. I coined the phrase 'Creative Accounting'. My accountant smiles nicely and works with me.
   But once a month a big crowd of angry figures gather together and demand to be reconciled! I clear my throat, use my most authoritative tone and tell them to all line up and behave. After all I'm the boss!

   But figures are a law unto themselves. They are not concerned about my position in the company! Instead of calling me 'Financial Controller' they call me to account!
   So we struggled and battled. They won again. I capitulated and fixed the errors that caused the angst. 
   Then I realised what I could do! I resigned to myself! Yes! I'm free. And now there will be no more errors.    But wait a minute. I'd have to train someone. That would take hours. 
   So I decided to stay. But I do have a warning!

Recovering a lost heirloom ring

   I lost my husband's grandmother's engagement ring about ten days ago. I looked at my hand and it wasn't there. 
   I berated myself for being so careless. When I had dressed that morning my fingers seemed swollen, so I wore it on a smaller finger. I realised during the day it was loose, so I decided to be careful! Now it was gone.
Possessions aren't that important to me, but this was a family heirloom. My daughter was not happy. I made a couple of enquiries on the phone without any success. I cleaned out my handbag in the hope it had fallen into its cavernous depths when I tried to extract my purse. No luck.
   Eventually, I told my husband. He was disappointed, but gracious with me.
I began to pray. "God, I want my ring back!" Nothing complex. But I prayed every time I thought of it.
   Then on Friday morning, I searched for my sunglasses without success. I had to leave home without them. My eyes were complaining and I was disappointed with myself. Why was I so careless? Why don't I pay more attention to detail? 
   I remembered taking them off when having coffee with a friend the previous afternoon. I placed them on the table around the sugar caddy. I could also remember telling myself not to do that, but put them safely in my bag. I had searched my bag under the downlights before I left home. I couldn't remember picking them up. I rang the coffee shop. No sunglasses.
   I was very cross with myself. When I bought these glasses I'd asked God for good sunglasses at a good price. Walking into a department store, I expecting to see sale signs in answer to my prayer. Not a single sale in sight! As I turned away, a salesperson stopped me. After talking to me and assessing my needs, she turned to one of the locked glass-fronted cabinets. I prepared myself to decline any offer she had for me. I never buy sunglasses that are expensive enough to be stored in locked cabinets!
   She looked for a few seconds. 'Ah! Here they are! I thought they must have been sold.'
   Turning to me, she held them out. 'Try these on. I think they are just what you're looking for.'
Not wanting to appear rude, I tried them on. They were perfect. Sighing, I handed them back.
   'It's your lucky day. These are reduced.'
   I bought those glasses for much less than half price, just within my budget. They were the best  sunglasses I'd  ever owned. I left the shop thanking God. He's so clever at shopping. 
   But now, I'd lost them. 'God, I want my glasses back!'
   I met my sister-in-law and we enjoyed coffee and conversation for a couple of hours. Returning to the glare of the sunlight, I remembered my lost glasses. 'God, I want my glasses back!'
       Look in your handbag!
   I nearly ignored the prompt. After all I had searched it thoroughly. However, I grabbed my bag and started to look.
      Try the side pockets
   I never use the side pockets. I store stuff, but don't open them, but sure enough, there they    were. Yay! Thank you God.
   "God, I want my ring back."
   I didn't mean to be pushy, but if He bought my glasses back, He could return my ring. I looked around the floor of the car, expecting to find it, but it wasn't there.
   Days have passed. There has been an expectation in me, but still no ring.
   This morning, I walked from my bedroom to the kitchen, following the route I walk countless times everyday. There winking at me from the floor is a ring. Surely not! I swoop and pick it up. Yes, Grandma Wanmer's ring. 
   My faith is high now. God, you have promised you will restore everything the enemy has stolen!
   What will you call back today?

Why do we pretend evil doesn't exist?

It is nearly eight weeks since we launched 'Though the Bud be Bruised'. It has travelled far and wide to places and people I guess I will never know. 



For the first few weeks I felt as though I was sitting on the edge of a volcano, wondering if it would erupt. Now I feel a little easier. Mostly reviews and readers alike have been very positive in their comments. 
The book has its controversial places and I know it would have been a very difficult read for many of my friends and family.
However I have been great blessed by many emails, comments and reviews. This story is bringing hope and restoration as well as a challenge to many. I am well pleased. 
I really enjoyed a chance meeting with a friend from the era of the book. She was delighted to have the truth exposed, everything out in the open. Others still don't want to know. I find that many Christians, when confronted with evil, like to hide it, ignore it, or pretend it doesn't exist. We as a family had to deal with wickedness. It invaded our lives in several forms. We were shocked by its presence, but no longer could we pretend it wasn't there. 


My favourite quote from the book is ‘Where evil is protected, evil thrives!’ Why does the church create an environment that covers (and hence incubates) anything unsavoury? Supposedly it is to make us good 'witnesses', so we look good to the world! But it isn't working. The world isn't blind or stupid. While we hide bad behaviour behind a veil of secrecy, they laugh at us and call us hypocrites and worse. Sadly, they are right. Hiding evil isn't displaying God's glory. His glory is shown when evil is exposed, defeated and the situation is restored! Only those who don't understand the mighty power of God to heal, restore and deliver keep the unsavoury in the dark! The world longs to see a power that can defeat their personal demons.
Someone said to me recently. 'I don't like fighting, so I don't participate in spiritual warfare.' My reply? 'You do participate - whether you like it or not. You are in a war and if you don't fight you are permanently defeated.'
Another friend commented on the phone. 'I'm just hanging in there. I'm hoping the devil will give up soon.' 
That won't work. He's never going to stop terrorising us while we don't resist. 


You, I and that lady all have within us the authority to send him packing! If we resist him he will flee. That is the Word of God. But resistance must be active and requires focus, determination and effort. If we really understood why Jesus came we would rush to His feet, in public, as the woman who had suffered from endless vaginal bleeding. She found wholeness, victory and new life. And then we would be able to share this victory with those who fight the ravages of evil every day. 
C'mon church! Rise up and fight! You can do it!

You call that love?

"Before you commit to loving someone, make sure they can love you unconditionally.'
It was typed over a pretty picture on Facebook. You know the ones where sayings are presented beautifully so we all share the concept?

But this statement is seriously flawed. It advices holding love until...until something happens. In other words, your love should be conditional on the other person's love being unconditional!


Do we even understand what unconditional love is? While the term is used a lot, but rarely is real love displayed. Everyone is hungry for it. We look for approval, acceptance, affirmation and call that love. But our need is deeper. We long for a person to relate to. We want to feel secure as we share our history, mistakes and hopes,  knowing it won't appear on facebook next week. We crave a person that will walk the road beside us. But will they love us when we're sick and ugly; ill or even dying? What about when they encounter our smelly feet or discover all their chocolate has been eaten?


Unconditional love is deeper than all the above. It lays down its life, puts aside its needs and wants, forgives and forgives again. It loves even when relationships can no longer be reconciled because of abuse. It loves until death.Only one who has experienced love can give such a love. When a person's love tank is full, they have a capacity to continue loving other, regardless. 


As a parent my love ran out. I could no longer give anything of myself to my child. Lies and false accusations, rejection and constant demands had bled me dry. I was finished, ready to give up, run away or die. Anything to escape the pain.


Good friends halted my flight. Trapped with no escape, I sought God. I asked Him a simple question. 'What message can I send her?'


Revelation broke through. I was in a busy shopping centre. Did others see it or hear bells? No. As I sat, I suddenly understood that regardless of the abuse and blame I had hurled at God most of my life, He still suffered and died for me. Yes, I'd been taught such things. But that day my heart burst open as I experienced His love poured out for me. He loved me regardless of my behaviour toward Him, my indifference to His love, my rejection of His quiet words. He was still there waiting, offering forgiveness, restoration, a new beginning. Never condoning my stupid behaviour, but never withdrawing His affection for me. In a matter of minutes everything changed. Now I could love my child continually, regardless of behaviour and words spoken. 


No longer was I trying to get my love from her. She couldn't supply it. Now my source of love never stops and it overflows to others, bringing healing, acceptance and wholeness. That was twenty years ago. I've tested it. Yes, His love for me (and for you) never runs dry.