Murder, Bloody Murder

Is anyone out there? Why aren't we screaming murder, bloody murder!

'DOCTORS accidentally ended the life of a healthy 32-week-old unborn twin during a botched procedure to terminate his brother.' Sydney Daily Telegraph today.

They were 'terminating' one twin because of a congenital heart defect but they injected the wrong baby in error. The mother then underwent an emergency caesarean section and the sick child's life was terminated in a three-hour operation. (Illustration shows a 32 week baby.)

What will become of a nation who treats life with such contempt? The paper talks of the deep distress of staff and parent alike when the error was discovered. But why were any of them involved in the premeditated murder of such a child? A baby born at that point of gestation has a high chance of survival. My own daughter was born at 33 weeks tiny, but strong and healthy.

The blood of these little boys cries out from the ground. God will not turn a blind eye. The hands of our nation are dripping with blood, blood of babies that have been sacrificed on the alter of convenience. As I was researching this article I came across a story of a woman who aborted twins boys conceived by IVF because she wanted a girl!

I am horrified beyond belief.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm compassionate. I care for those woman and I'm not judging them, but this much I know. We must reap what we sow. We all understand that if we plant pansy seeds we can cut pansies in the future. If we plant bean seeds, we will eat beans, not spinach.

So if we sow murder, what will we reap? But, you argue, 'murder' is a strong word. Let me put it another way. If we sow 'justified termination', we will reap 'justified termination'. It will be called 'euthanasia'. It will be couched in the same acceptable medical jargon that surrounds abortion. 


This generation, when old, helpless and weak, will receive the same consideration given to the young and vulnerable who have been betrayed by the very one who is supposed to protect them. We too will face the termination needle.

As a nation, (and as individuals) we must repent for our murder. Then the blood of Jesus will protect us from reaping what we deserve. 

Lord, have mercy upon us.

And the Winner is ...

'I'm going to win it!' I declared it emphatically. 
My companions looked a little stunned, and I could understand their reaction. But the moment I heard about it, I wanted it. Money wouldn't buy it. It wasn't available through people I knew. The winner wasn't to be drawn out of a hat. It was The Caleb award for best unpublished manuscript and to win my book had to be...well...the best!
Everyone in the room knew I'd never written a book before and the one I was working on was sadly lacking.

Day in the Life of a Grandma!

'I'm hungry, Ma!' 
Is there any way to fill a four year old? The bag of crisps and ten strawberries obviously hadn't done it.
'I need something cold!' Madam looked hopeful. 
So she selected an ice block from my freezer. It must have been healthy as it boasted wild berries and yoghurt. I know; I'm a soft touch, but unless you are a grandmother, how can you understand? Until you had to stare back into those serious blue eyes, how can you know what you would have done?
This follows last nights text message from Madam Twelve. 'Can you come early in the morning to braid my hair?'  I was due at her house at 8am to mind Miss Four. 
'Is 7.30 ok?' 
'Can you come at 7? Can you do Olivia's hair too?' Olivia is a school friend who must be sleeping over again.
Another message comes. This time from Madam Sixteen (Yes there are a lot of girls in this house!)
'Can you bring my assignment? I left it there last week. It's in a blue book.' 
This morning I woke late after a broken night's sleep. I found the assignment, grabbed the library books that were due back yesterday. In haste, I dropped the books into the 'returns' bin at the library and arrived to braid hair at 7.20am, ignoring several messages from Miss Twelve asking how much longer.
When Madam Sixteen looked expectant I realised what I'd done. I'd posted her assignment into the book bin at the council library! I hung out my daughter's washing and dropped Miss Ten at school, before coming home with the four year old who was complaining. She wanted her mummy *sigh*
My daughter finished her days work just after lunch. We called at the library and retrieved the assignment and met Miss Four's Mummy for coffee and a chat. 
How privileged am I to have so many wonderful girls in my life?  I am blessed...and constantly waiting for the unexpected.

From a grub to a butterfly

Have you ever sat with someone as their life ebbed out? Have you watched the battle between life and death, the battle between the determination of the human will and the deterioration of the physical body? On Monday I sat with a precious friend as she lost her battle with Alzheimer’s disease. A few years ago in a different nursing home I sat with my Mum as her aged body finally released her to be with her Lord. 

Today I thought I'd share a poem I wrote some years ago - poem of hope. 

The Parable of the Grub

 There comes a time in the life of every grub,

when he must weave a cocoon

And gradually he becomes more and more restricted

And things that were simple to do, become harder and harder

Until eventually they are impossible.

The grub struggles in the cocoon

Until one day the struggle stops – and all is still.

And we other grubs grieve the loss of life

And through our tears we celebrate a life lived.

But while the cocoon remains, motionless, an empty shell

A butterfly soars …..

Free

Free from restriction

Free from keeping its feet upon the ground

        Free to fly, and swoop and flutter

Free ………

Gloriously free!

Jesus said: “I go to prepare a place for you. In my fathers house there are many mansions. If were not so I would have told you.”

RIP Eileen Whitmore <3

It's time to be determined!

   This week Miss Three morphed into Miss Four! While to me she looks the same, sadly, my three year old has departed. The four year old is now a proud owner of her first push bike, complete with training wheels. In no time she was flying around the park, yard and streets.
   Yesterday, her mother suggested she left the bike at home and walked to the school to collect the older children.  She was very indignant. 'But, I'm four! Four year old legs ride bikes! They don't walk!'
It doesn't feel like it, but it must be four years since I watched as she pushed her way into the world. She was determined as a baby, and she has forced her way into life from that day on. The youngest of five siblings, she quickly learned how to charm the family into meeting her every want!
   She reminds me of Jesus's strange words about taking the Kingdom of God by force. She knows what she wants and what is hers by right of birth. If she wants to sleep with her brother or sister she claims that place. Thirsty in the night? She yells until Mum fixes it. Wants to stretch out on the whole lounge, she kicks everyone else off! (Yes, she is learning to share...slowly!) Hungry? She raids the fridge.
   Jesus also said that unless we become as a little child, we can never enter the Kingdom of God. Ahhh, it is starting to make sense.  I've been born into the Kingdom. Everything Father God owns is mine. I have access to the throne room, the store room, the angels, the table that's prepared for me. It is not a time for standing back and being shy. I think I'll follow Miss Four's example and barge straight in and claim everything that is mine!  Want to come with me?

What others think is none of my business.

    Thanks to the wonder of technology and the iPhone, today I listened to Heidi Baker address the Voice of the Apostles conference in Baltimore.  She has planted 10,000 churches in Mozambique and rescued countless thousands of orphans from the streets in that nation. She is my hero! 
    Today she taught me a valuable lesson. 
    As her mission has a desperate need for bibles, she was excited when offered a large quantity from a well known Bible distributor. But then he added, 'We can only distribute them through men.'
I was instantly angry. How could he say such a thing to the woman who is one of the most successful missionaries of our age? How could he be so rude?
    But I was taken by her response. 'Men! I can get thousands of men! How many would you like?'
    Then she explained. 'At that time I had to make a choice. Would I be offended and risk losing the generous gift? No! There was no reason for me to be offended and I wanted those bibles.' She remained gracious and received thousands of Bibles for her people.
    Ouch! I wonder how many times I have missed a blessing because I took offense? How many times has my attitude been soured when I've taken exception to something expressed, when it was not my place to judge the statement?
    I have a wise friend that often says, 'What other people think of me is none of my business!' 
There could be a corollary. 'When other people think differently to me, it is none of my business!'
Ah, Lord. Help my reactions to be gracious and tender, for tomorrow I may have to eat them!

The gate crasher who concealed himself just before my dinner party

'Eeekk!' A door slammed.
My niece, who lived with us, ran into the kitchen, white faced and shaking. 'A snake...a snake in the toilet.'
I took a deep breathe and went to investigate. Pushing the door open, I peered into the room. 'I can't see a snake.'
'Open...open the lid!' She was hiding behind me.
I did and there it was! A large carpet snake, curled within the bowl of the toilet. And it was only a few minutes until ten of our best clients were coming to a dinner party!
I did what any calm hostess does! I bellowed for my husband. He scratched his head while I fretted. Would I have to tell my guests that we couldn't offer toilet facilities?
'Steve, WHAT are you going to do?'
'It's okay. Calm down! I have a plan.'
'What?'
'I'll get Lance's help. He's an old bushy. He'll know what to do.' The door bell rang.
When our client, Lance, arrived, there were six guests in my lounge room who heard Steve say, 'Come with me. We have a little matter to take care of.'
His wife raised an eyebrow. 'What is that about?'
I sunk into the nearest lounge. 'Believe me, you don't want to know!'
As the other men gathered around my toilet door to offer advice and be entertained, Bob removed the uninvited guest amid much frivolity. When the men returned, they assured the women they had located the broken grate where the reptile had invaded our private space.
'We covered it with a brick. He won't come back!'
However I noticed everyone carefully watching how much they drank that night. No wanted to have to use that loo!