Friday, 20 December 2013

Happy Christmas

I'm on holidays! Yah!
We have an ancient cottage set at the base of a beautiful mountain near Mt Barney without phone or internet. And we have it for six days. Now that's a real holiday!
However we did venture back as far as Beaudeserert today, so it's my chance to say Merry Christmas.
I do home you have a wonderful time celebrating Jesus, Gods great gift to the world.

As my gift to you, please read the poem below.

Love and blessings from Steve and I


Peace Application

Here is a Christmas greeting for your newsletter if your haven't printed it yet.  If you have that is fine.
Peace Application

News flash! Message just in!
Special Christmas offer on Peace
Just click here to download.

Peace. Ah! That elusive place we seek
That trouble free state where sickness doesn't exist
Where fighting is banished and worries are caged.

Life is a whirl of activity, a swirling mass do concern
A battle against overdue bills, illness and other enemies.
Is peace really available? It is this a scam.

No harm in looking!
For more information click here.
An application? It's an application!
A heart application?

Installed by the Father, on request
Activated by users choice. It features
A father to shoulder all the problems
A freedom brought by Jesus
A wisdom downloaded by the Holy Spirit
A safe place to rest in the midst of turmoil.

I warn it! Can I have it?
At what price, what cost?
Wherever is it? How do I get it?

It's available to all who seek it
A life time supply, unlimited stock.
Extravagant, yes, but paid in full by the Giver.

To download....
Sit quietly
Lift your hands and wait.
'Father, I accept your peace!'

Jo Wanmer 2013

Thursday, 7 November 2013

Grati-roo-ed, not grati-poo-ed

Again I'm counting my blessings. Being roo-thless. Or wishing I was roo-thless.
Let me explain.
Last week I was struggling to be thankful for poo, puppy poo and lots of it. (See last week's post if you don't know the story.)
Sunday night I fell into bed at 11pm. It had been a busy weekend, but a wonderful time with our friend Danny Steyne from the States. Last week we dealt with five Epipen episodes in five night and I hadn't yet recovered from losing sleep  Three of those nights I spent a large chunks of time in the Children's hospital. But in every episode I am grateful; grateful for epipens that arrest the swelling which threatens to close her airways, grateful for Ambulance teams, doctors and nurses. I'm grateful for free medical services that we enjoy in our amazing country.
But I was talking about Sunday night. My phone summoned me at 1.10am. Trying to waken after two hours of sleep, I drove through the country roads leading to my daughter's house. It was my night was to stay with my grand-children. I could go back to sleep. About five minutes out of town a wallaroo jumped in front of me. I braked, crossed to the wrong side of the road, trying to avoid him, but he crashed into the front of my car. Bang! I drove on, thankful my lights weren't affected, thankful I'd been awake enough to keep control of my vehicle.
Daylight showed considerable damage to the bumper bar. I'm grateful this repair, which will be covered by insurance will also fix the spot where I hit a rabbit at 2 am about three months back. It will also cover the rub where I drove too close to an un-moving object about a month ago.
Yes, a lot is going wrong and at times it is hard to handle. But this much I know. God is good, and we will climb out of this deep narrow place rejoicing! Until then I will continue to express a bit of grati-roo-ed with you all. :)

Thursday, 31 October 2013

Gratitude or, on this occasion, grati-poo-ed

   Pushing back waves of deep slumber, I struggled to surface.
   'What is that noise?' Tears and angry voices identified my grand-kids arguing. Nothing unusual about that...except the time. 1.30 am
   My brain ground into action. I was in my daughter's bed and the kids were my responsibility. Like a drunken sailor, I heaved myself off the bed and bounced off the walls, trying to find my feet.
   The  lounge room lights were on. I blinked, trying to focus.
   Miss six is wailing. 'I have dog poo between my toes.'
    A cranky Miss Twelve is standing near a pile of crumpled toilet paper. 'Stop yelling. I've cleaned it up!'
   Was this a silly dream? I tried to shake the crazy images away.
   No, I was awake.
   Are the girls acting out a nightmare?

   Then I see it. A trail of diarrhea puppy poo, camouflaged by the cork tiles, runs from the middle of the dining room down the hall. Pooey, puppy footprints lead off into the distance. Reality hits me about the same time as the smell.
   Watching every footfall to avoid brown puddles, I located a wet rag and cleaned both little feet, being careful to clean between the toes. She was still crying and refused to move.
   Miss twelve explained that there had been an accident. Her bed (where they were sleeping together) was wet. She was not happy.
   I sighed. 'Go and sleep in Mummy's bed.'  I'd been asleep there a few minutes ago, but I wouldn't be returning in a hurry.
   'C'mon.' She pulls at her little sister. Even in her tired frustration she still tried to care for her distraught little sister.
   'I'm not going anywhere until my Mummy comes.' Its tough on little kids when their Mummy is pulled off to hospital, without warning, for the night.
   'Whatever!' Miss twelve heads to bed alone.
   I surveyed the damage. My fuddles brain had no idea where to start.
   'Can't sleep in Mum's room.' The twelve year old returns. 'There's dog vomit on the carpet.'

   I'd preached that very morning, about fourteen hours ago. Since then I'd weathered one major family       disappointment, my beautiful grandchild had administered the epipen and gone to hospital by ambulance. On two hours sleep, I was now faced with a puppy poo disaster of epic proportions!
   The words of my own sermon rang in my ears. 'Is your cup empty? God wants to pour out His Spirit so you will never thirst again.'
   I had related the story of how the Lord stripped me of pride and self sufficiency so I could encounter more of Him. Brave words, spoken from a pulpit, mocked me from gleaming, smelly, brown puddles of poo.

On my hands and knees, with toilet paper and spatula, I had to return to basics.
'In everything give thanks.' I knew that was the road to victory, but it took a while.
'Lord, I thank you that  this poo is on tiles, not on carpet. I thank you Lord, that I can do all things.I thank you for your strength that never runs out.'
So in grati'poo'de, I cleaned the house.
As for the great Dane puppy? She's still alive but now sleeps outside at night.

Thursday, 24 October 2013

Its been a while

    Sometimes life dips deep into the unknown. In these places I hang on to God, close my eyes, pray for supernatural strength and grace. Then I wait in faith for the ride to level out again. And level out it will.
    But on the ride my brain seems to recede - or maybe it is over used? So the body protects it. I watch very little television, read less books and more of the Word, and write seldom! So I apologise for not communicating with you for so long.
    But I've been clawing life back in a few areas.
    My legs became very weak, due to drugs for high cholesterol. I replaced the drug with coconut oil and have been rebuilding strength in my muscles, with the help of a dear friend who regularly massages the knots from my hips and calves.
    Little by little, I have increased my walk from a slow kilometer to about three kilometers at medium pace. This morning, I decided to try my favorite route, the one I had followed most days of the week, until my legs made it appear impossible.
   I did it quite easily! What an adventure!
   I paused on the little wooden bridge to absorb the reflections, watch the ducks and marvel at dragon flies. 
    Walking further, I saw this koala, one of many in the trees along the creek. They are always well camouflaged. Fellow walkers on the track exposed this fellow's perch. Doesn't he look unsafe? They sit on the thinnest branches!

    The creek is bridged by our local shopping center. Here I met a group of local walkers who feed eels, water fowl, and ducks. I watched the baby water fowl, chasing their parents on long gangly legs, their little red beaks flashing in the sun. Leaving there, my attention is drawn to the big black crow flying across the car park, a helpless mouse hanging from his beak.
     Heading toward home, I'm alerted by a familiar thump on the ground. I scanned the bush until I spied this little wallaby. (Can you see him?) His family lives in this tiny bit of scrub that is bordered by a road, the shopping center, creek and a park, but rarely do they allow themselves to be seen.
    Although it is only a kilometer to walk around the narrow strip of reserve, from my house it is a three and a half kilometers circuit. But I arrived home invigorated. I feel so fortunate to live in such a place. However there about a six hundred homes within a kilometer of this miniature wildlife wonderland. 
    How many people know? Have they taken the time to explore?
    What about you? Where is your closest nature retreat? It may be closer than you think.
    As for me, I think I'll go back again tomorrow. Be strong, legs!

Wednesday, 29 May 2013

It wasn't what I expected

   Its part of the family really. Papua New Guinea is only about 150 kilometres, as the crow flies, from the tip of Australia to land fall. Whereas the same crow would have to fly 200 kilometres to reach Tasmania from the Aussie mainland.
   When I went to school, PNG was part of our nation. I've always imagined it as being Australia's beautiful foster daughter who grew up and left home; independent  but still part of the family. So I jumped at the chance to go and visit this long lost sister.
   With great excitement, I left about a month ago with six others. Our destination was Lae. Our aim was to spread the love of Father God as far as we could reach. But, unlike many who have gone before us, we weren't blazing trails through impassable jungles or climbing high mountains  No, my trip was very civilised and organised. We'd been invited by a local church in Lae to teach their leaders and pastors. We travelled in cars, buses and planes. We ate good food and slept in comfort.
   I was prepared for the heat and humidity, for the red gooey stains of chewed beetle nut, for dark-skinned sisters who could understand English, but would prefer to speak in Pidgin. I also knew that the Australian government recommends that one only travels to PNG if necessary. But I was only going to the two main cities, Port Moresby and Lae, so I felt confident - then surprised!
   I found a sister that has let herself go. She hasn't followed the Australian way of life. Everywhere the taxi went, I could see evidence of of her temporary Aussie influence in the form of roads, bridges and infrastructure. Yet the massive potholes, broken footpaths, and decaying rubbish was evidence that she preferred her old way of life.
   At night we slept secure, knowing that there was an armed guard outside, twenty four hours a day. When we asked if about going to the shops, someone always accompanied us. Our handbags were locked up in our units. It wasn't safe to carry anything that didn't fit in our pockets.
   When we drove over the bridge (on the right), our driver told us of witches being burned at the stake, recently. He pointed to the hills and told us about witchdoctors.
   We wished we could stop and explore these colourful markets (left) until one of our new friends in our school told us the facts. These markets are the drug and gambling markets. No wonder everyone there had vacant eyes.
   The house on the right belongs to one of our students. Her family carries all their water from the river, and washes their clothes in the flowing water. All their food comes from their gardens. The stables are taro, other root vegetables, bananas and coconuts supplemented with a little canned fish.
   One day there was a tribal march down the street in front of our church.  Trouble was brewing. A man had been killed. The other tribe were looking for retribution. For our new friends this was normal activity. No big deal.
    In the midst of all this, I was delighted by a nation of lush green trees, vibrant flowers and warm, generous, colourful people. Everywhere we looked there were wonderful mountains, flowing streams, contrasted with dust and dirt. And lots of people, travelling on foot, or loaded into the back of lorries, going shopping. After I preached at one of the churches, I was showered with gifts of fruit from wonderful loving people. This church was overflowing with worshippers, hungry to know more of God.
   Why has such beauty become so corrupt? Why has PNG fallen back into a third world economy? Why aren't they enjoying the abundant blessings of our nation?
   I believe the difference is hidden in those mountains. The people we met know God Almighty and worship Him. However most of them belong to tribes. Many of their relatives still practice witchcraft.
   The Bible is very clear. We can choose blessings or curses. Its our choice. Worshipping the Lord, and no other god, brings blessing. Serving any other power brings curses. Never before have I seen such compelling evidence of this spiritual law.
    I returned home humbled and subdued. What about Aussies? Is Australia still a Christian county? For generations we have reaped the blessings from seeds of faithfulness sowed by our forefathers. But soon we must start to feel the consequences of abandoning the one true God. As a nation we worship false gods like sport, addictions, comfort, abortion.... We can not flirt with our gods and stick our heads in the sand in denial, pretending there won't be consequences.
As part of the Australian church, I am challenged to humble myself and pray and seek His face so we will turn away from our wicked ways. Then He can come and heal our land.


Wednesday, 22 May 2013

It seems like yesterday...

   Forty-two years!
   It seems like such a long time, and yet it doesn't seem long ago. But life is like that. It passes by at such speed, yet often days seem to drag.
   But as I was saying...it is forty-two years today since Steve and I were married. Forty-two years of shared happiness, sorrow, joy, tears, frustration, arguments, devastations, surprises and yes, sometimes even boredom. We have experienced most of what life can dish up and now we embark on our future years with all that experience and commonality.
   I was married as a twenty year old. My expectation was for a family with lots of kids, maybe five,  leading a normal, always happy life, for ever after. It never occurred to me that one day I'd be old, or that I'd be married to an old man, though I did expect in years to come that I'd have a bald husband. At that time, I thought anyone over forty was ancient!
   And I never expected to have to wash windows, or clean the loo, or wipe up vomit in the middle of the night. As I said...I was young!
   Once married, we soon discovered we had different expectations. I thought a husband always bought his wife a cuppa first thing in the morning. That's what my Dad did. Didn't that happen in all marriages? He expected long cosy mornings, sleeping in as long as possible and couldn't grasp the concept of a wife who wanted to get up early enough to see the sunrise! By the end of the honeymoon some realities were beginning to set in!
   Then, despite our plans, children didn't come either. Adoption bought us our two wonderful children, but there was no hope of three, let alone five. (Steve was secretly relieved about that!)
   So forty-two years later I look back. Has life been easy? Has marriage been all joy, love and laughter? No, but its been good...very good!
   I'm thankful for an amazing husband who understands everything about me - well the basics anyway! I'm grateful for his steadiness and steadfastness that has been an anchor stabilizing my impulsive and crazy ways. I'm pleased that my impulsive and crazy ways have stretched him to greater adventures and achievements than he ever dreamed possible.
   I'm thankful for the really hard valleys that have trained us, strengthened us and led us into a deeper relationship with God. When I look back over my life together, the stand out memories are those times when we have helped each other get through the seeming impossibilities that life has thrown at us.
   And I'm thankful for eight wonderful grandchildren! What a privilege it is to be a grandma.
   But mostly I'm thankful for a marriage covenant that has melded two people together; the commitment that held us close through the storms and trials. Its the tough places that produced our oneness, a unity that's only possible when two individuals have been tempered by life's fire.
Now, leaning on each other, we can walk into the most exciting years - they are just in front of us. Yes, we are privileged. Not many are as fortunate as we. We count ourselves blessed!

Friday, 17 May 2013

Suddenly the evening changes

   My iPhone dings. I jump. At 10.10 pm it makes me nervous.
   I grab it from the coffee table. 'Epipen given. Can you come?'
   Typing a quick reply, I turn to my husband and our visitor. 'I'm sorry. I have to go'. My granddaughter is having another anaphylaxis episode.
   Within a couple of minutes I'm driving, trying to watch the speed limit, hoping I can get to my daughter's house before she has to board the ambulance with her thirteen year old.  I know her tongue would be swollen, threatening to fill her mouth. The swelling in her throat would be trying to close her wind pipe. I also know the Epipen would lessen the reaction, but I pray as I drive. For now my role is to stay the night with the her two smaller sisters.
   When I arrive, there are two ambulances. A local one that responds quickly and a resuscitation unit that follows up and will transport her to the Children's hospital. There are four uniformed people surrounding her bed. She is sitting up. To the untrained eye, she looks fine.  On arrival they administered an injection of adrenaline and now her air passages are clear again.
   One of the ambos, who hasn't been here before asks, 'Do we really need to take her in?'
   'Yes!'
   'All the way to the Children's?'
   'Yes!'
   'But she can walk to the car?'
   'No!'
   The guy who has attended her on other occassions explains. 'We walked her up the drive way once. It took us nearly an hour to stabilise her on the street before we could leave. This girl may look fine, but she rebounds without notice.'
   The rookie goes to get the stretcher. They pack up and go. I cuddle her twelve year old sister, check the sleeping five year old and settle into my daughters bed. I've lost count of the number of times I've done this. Sadly, we are getting used to it, but tonight is a little more challenging. Tomorrow is Mother's Day.
   The next morning I hold a little girl as she sobs. 'This just shouldn't happen on special days. It's wrong! I want to give my Mummy her presents.'
   'Yes, darling. It's wrong.'  I agree. The whole illness is wrong!
   Together we get dressed and head into the hospital. Our patient should be discharged by the time we get there. But today doesn't go as planned. They have to treat her at 9 am and then again later that night. We celebrate motherhood, in the hospital, with a bar of chocolate. The other girls find places to play for the day. Hospitals are boring!
   That night, I gather them home and ready them for school in the morning. My daughter tries to sleep in the hospital on a dodgy recliner, for the second night running. My granddaughter has a bed but she's unhappy. Her body is now filled with adrenaline  It saves her life every time, but it leaves her full of energy, confusion and frustration.
   This week is Food Allergy Awareness week. The organisers suggest everyone wears one painted fingernail to draw awareness to the problem. Now one in ten kids are allergic to one or more foods.
    What is my granddaughter allergic to? They tell us she is allergic to her own hormones. The doctors are trying their very best, but, in reality, they don't know how to treat it, let alone cure it. (See previous blog)
   There are two other girls with the same condition.     We often run into them in the Emergency department of the Children's hospital. One of those girls has had over 200 doses of adrenaline. She has been affected for two years.
   So can I encourage you to paint one finger nail, and tell others about the affect of allergic reactions.
    Look up anaphylaxis on the internet.
Share this blog and .... pray for a miraculous respite for these girls.

WHAT IS ANAPHYLAXIS?

Anaphylaxis is the most severe form of allergic reaction and is potentially life threatening. It must be treated as a medical emergency, requiring immediate treatment and urgent medical attention.
Anaphylaxis is a generalised allergic reaction, which often involves more than one body system (e.g. skin, respiratory, gastro-intestinal and cardiovascular). A severe allergic reaction or anaphylaxis usually occurs within 20 minutes to 2 hours of exposure to the trigger and can rapidly become life threatening. Taken from http://www.foodallergyaware.com.au/awareness/