Showing posts from August, 2013


The problem with the Bible being full of ordinary people is that sooner or later, you're going to identify with at least one of them. At the moment, I identify with at least five, and could probably think of more.

Like Jacob, I feel like I'm wrestling with God. Unlike Jacob, I'm finding it hard to expect a blessing from it. My husband tells me that I will be blessed and will bless others because of it (and he's usually right but don't tell him I said that) but at the moment I'm having a very hard time seeing that. The thing is, I'm so confused and I really don't know what God's asking me to do - or if I do, I'm really not sure I can do it.

Which makes me a lot like Jonah. Poor Jonah. I have quite a lot of sympathy for Jonah at the moment. When things are in the too-hard basket, run away. Or put your head in the sand. Or ignore it (I would if I could). Unlike Jonah, I have no wish to be thrown into the sea (well Jonah probably didn't either b…

One Year On

She is one year old today: our beautiful wee treasure who was born so tiny and whom we weren't able to cuddle for what seemed like an eternity.

Those of the family who were able, turned out in full force on Saturday to celebrate - and what a celebration it was.

And just in case you've forgotten, here she is one year ago:

Thank You Lord, for this precious gift.


Two thirty one on a Friday afternoon and New Zealand was once again shaken by another major earthquake. Six point six which had been downsized from the six point nine reported immediately after the quake. Whether it's 6.6 or 6.9 it was another big shake and was just a tad nerve wracking.

Just a tad. Understatement of the year.

We were treated to another big one at 5.30. Only 6.0 this time. Only.

The aftershocks have continued unrelentingly since the big shake at 2.31 pm. For those of us at a 'safe' distance from the epicentre - safe in that we still experience the heart-stopping fear but miss most of the damage (although I still haven't checked my dining room to ascertain what was moving around so violently during the earthquake that had me cowering in the doorway praying for it to stop) - our thoughts and prayers are with those closer to the epicentre whose nerves must be wearing thin from all this seismic activity.

Perhaps, for those of us who are 'safe', once…


Son#2 remarked recently (was it only this morning?) that he couldn't understand how anyone could lie awake for hours in the middle of the night and not sleep.

Perhaps, now, after having heard the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra tonight he'll understand.

To say that the concert was magnificent would be an understatement. Under the direction of Danail Rachev the music seemed to enter our very souls and linked us with humanity across the ages while at the same time, gave us a glimpse into eternity. It lifted us up out of our cares and immediate world and transported us some place else - some place that we were very reluctant to return from.

At the moment, sleep is the last thing on my mind - and I wouldn't be surprised if it's the last thing on Son#2's mind. If he's anything like me, he'll just want to savour the sensation - the magic - for a little while longer (even if that sensation is now only a memory) and not let sleep rob him of that.

As Johann Sebastian…


It appears that I've hit on a new way to garner a response from my absent sons although I can hardly take credit for it since I didn't invent the idea.

It all began last week when a parcel turned up in the post for Son#5. Nothing unusual about that. Parcels often come here and Sons#3-5 are often ordering computer or electronic components online.

I placed the parcel on our hall stand along with all the other mail that needs to be redirected to those sons who are no longer living at home and sent a text message to Son#5.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Your parcel is here.

Son#5: What parcel?

Me: The one that came in the mail with your name on it.

Son#5: Oh okay. It can't be too important if I don't even know what it is.

Me: It's from China. [It was the only other English word on the parcel apart from his name, phone number, and our address.]

Son#5: Everything comes from China so that doesn't really narrow it down.

Okay. Time to contact Sons#3 and #…


Coffee lovers may be familiar with the Moccona Coffee ad: Mmm ... Moccona.

For yarn lovers, there's another Mmmm moment and it's even better than coffee. It's Mmm ... Malabrigo.

As incredible as it may sound, until recently I didn't even know of its existence. Now, I can't get enough of it. It is one of the softest, silkiest yarns I have ever knitted with colours to die for (or should I say, 'dye'). It is truly delicious.

Since making my first Baktus, I have become addicted, and Malabrigo yarn has only fueled the addiction. I have (to my dentriment as evidenced by the pain in my wrists and elbows) knitted a Malabrigo Baktus each for DIL#2 and DIL#1 as early birthday presents and have begun another one for DIL#3 (as a rather belated birthday present). Once completed, I'm hoping to finally knit myself one using one of the many beautiful Malabrigo yarns.

But, I'll let the projects speak for themselves:

(Above) This is the scarf I knitted for DIL#2 usin…


Often when faced with a distressing illness or complaint, the cure can be worse than the condition, and when it comes to knitter's elbow, this is certainly the case. For weeks I've been pushing through the pain as I've worked on a variety of items. The pain isn't a problem when I'm knitting - which makes the cure even less palatable - it's when I stop knitting that I really notice it.

At present, denial is definitely preferable to admitting that I have a problem. But how long can I continue in this vein? Yet when I consider the alternative, I have no option.

So what is the cure? To stop knitting, of course.

As any knitter would tell you, it's not even worth considering.