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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity Review

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #18

I rarely post video clips, but want to share this one with you.

And although I haven’t yet seen the movie, it’s one that’s at the top of my ‘must see’ list. And not just because I really like Joseph Fiennes’ acting…

The trailer text refers to ‘the biggest manhunt in history’ – and I think that’s a perfect way to describe it. How else would it have felt, for the people living in Jerusalem, in the year that Jesus was crucified, and rose again after death?

RLuke 24:6 –

“He is not here; he has risen!”

Unprecedented. Miraculous. And yet – true, factual, history.

That’s enough for me.

Have a great day, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

 

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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity Life

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #10

I have three children: Miss11, Miss8 and Mr7. I love them more than I could possibly imagine, and want to protect them from the evils I know exist in the world. I’m sure all parents feel the same. Before becoming a parent, I never felt this way. I didn’t know it was possible to feel the overwhelming love that would sacrifice everything for this child who relies on you so utterly.

As a teenager in High School, I once heard the story of a man who controlled the switch at a train track. He was about to switch the track for a passenger train to pass safely by, when he realised that his four-year-old son was playing on it. Now that’s a dilemma! Choose who dies – a train full of passengers, or your own child?

That story has remained vivid enough that I could remember it this last week, and use it for an illustration today. Snopes though, tells the background to the story, as ‘story’ it appears to be.

JNonetheless, it is a relatable illustration of God and His choice – to send His son to Earth, knowing He would be killed the most excruciating way possible. For us. Because it was the only way that He could save us from the consequences of our sin. And Jesus – who knew, and obeyed.

Now I’m a parent, God’s choice confounds me and humbles me. There’s no way I would voluntarily sacrifice my one of my own children for strangers. Not even for friends. And yet – that’s what God did. And Jesus – who knew, and obeyed? The mind reels.

God loves us, did you know?

I’m humbled by that.

And that’s my takeaway lesson for today. J, for Jesus. Who obeyed.

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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity family anecdotes momentous events More about me

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #8

In each post in this #AtoZchallenge, I’m highlighting one facet that God has revealed about Himself in the Bible. Most are metaphors (I am the Bread of Life; I am the Good Shepherd etc.) but they aren’t always.

This one isn’t.

FullSizeRender (4)In the book of Psalms, Chapter 103 verse 3, the Bible says, “[the LORD] forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases…”

God is a healer. The cross-stitch sampler to the left shows a man leaping for joy, no longer needing a walking stick; he’s been healed of his physical illness. Stories abound throughout the Bible wherein people are healed physically; and also emotionally and spiritually, when their sins were forgiven.

It’s taken me a while to decide what ‘life example’ *I* could give here, to illustrate my point. I mean, I’ve never really suffered any physical aliment from which I needed healing. Nor, to my knowledge, have any close friends or family, so I can’t relate their story here either.

Emotional healing I’ve had a little more experience with though, and long-time readers of this blog might remember the roller-coaster ride that was the time when my youngest was diagnosed with autism.

But the biggie was probably when God healed my marriage.

Screen Shot 2016-04-05 at 10.10.01 amI posted this photo on Facebook earlier in the week. Hubby and I were out, and I managed to snap a selfie of the two of us – where he was SMILING! This would be the first ever smiling selfie, in over 20 years of marriage.

And I’m sharing that piece of information so you can see how completely He healed us.

You see, we broke up after just 18 months of marriage.

It was pretty bad. And I was the cause… well, to be specific, it was my experiences with a cult a few years prior, which had screwed me up BIGTIME, that had driven us apart.

Anyway, SUPERlong story short, we patched things up and got back together again.

This was only possible because of God. No, really.

The story is too long to tell here – you’ll need to read the longer post here instead – but suffice it to say, God healed us. And look, twenty years later, we’re still together. And I’m proud of that.

That’s not to say we haven’t fought in the meantime. I’m a stubborn thing, and a control freak, neither of which do me any favours. We’ve had some doozies of arguments. But we’re in this for the long haul, and are both committed to that. No matter what. God healed us, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

So that’s my lesson for Day 8. God Heals. He’s healed others, and He’s healed Hubby and I. I can take comfort in the fact that He’ll heal again, whenever and wherever is needed.

That’s pretty awesome 🙂

Have a great day, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity More about me Writing

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #5

I’m fortunate enough to have two parents still married to each other. They’re in their seventies now; still healthy, still happy. My Mum is inspirational, and I love her to absolute bits, and I’ll post ‘why’ on here at some stage.

But this post is about my Dad.

I’ll be the first to admit, our relationship hasn’t always been smooth sailing. And some – maybe even most?! – of that, was my fault. But that’s life, and I’m older (and maybe wiser) now. And now, we’re doing well.

You see, my father’s a retired lecturer. His area of lecturing? English. Literature, and creative writing.

As in, yes. The same topic that has me up late nights, or in the early mornings, as I struggle with the whole “I want to be a published author” path I’m on.

He’s one of my guides on this journey. And through him, I’ve learned SO much; far too much to even contemplate, let alone relate here.

But I’m also aware that time is limited. As much as I’d like to ignore it… the reality is, he’s only human. He’s not eternal. So it’d be wise for me to receive as much guidance as I possibly can, now, before the inevitable happens.

Yes, this is sad. Writing about it like this may portray me as callous and mercenary. Am I? I’m too close to the situation to answer reliably. I’d like to think I show my appreciation to him, for what he does – whether or not I’ve made that clear here. But that’s not the point.

The point is, that although I fail at things constantly, and my Dad is there to help fix stuff and guide me in the right ways, I also have a Heavenly Dad who fixes stuff and guides me, too.

And the difference is, this Heavenly Dad is everlasting.

Isaiah 9:6 says, “For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

[Aside: As soon as I read this verse, I immediately get Handel’s Messiah in my head. Do you?]

God is my Everlasting Father. I don’t need to worry that at some point in the future, He will cease being there for me.

I can continue to stuff up, to fail, and to need guidance, every single day until the day I die, knowing that God will continue to be there for me, every single day, leading me and guiding me, and helping me to fix the stuff-ups that I make. And I like that idea.

(I’m also thinking that my Dad would have a field day with that run-on sentence that I just wrote! Not to mention following it with a sentence fragment which started with a conjunction!)

FullSizeRender (1)So that’s my takeaway lesson for Day 5 of this A to Z blogging challenge. God is our Everlasting Father, so I don’t have to worry about there being a end-point. Which is pretty cool!

Have a great day, dear reader!
— KRidwyn

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Life Random thoughts Technology

The importance of access

Dear readers,

My long-suffering blog subscribers will have been surprised I’m sure, to have received an email informing them I’d written a new post here on Hmmm… That’s because the last email notification was seven months – count them! SEVEN!!! – ago.

Yes, some of that was because I was just too busy with offline interruptions to write. But not so, the past few months. No, indeed. The problem was far worse. I’m reminded of the line by that incredibly annoying character Richard Thornburg, on the plane in Die Hard 2: “the truth, ladies and gentlemen, is far more terrifying…”

13334048894_001d3e53d1_mI lost access.

It’s a long and convoluted story involving countless emails, more-than-countless phone calls, hours spent checking the availability to re-purchase domain names, meetings with several IT guys in all shapes and sizes, and many more white hairs choosing to appear on my head – which, of course, I’ve decided to resolutely ignore. I shan’t bore you with any more details.

Suffice it to say… I’m back!!! And praise God! I missed blogging more than I realised that I would. I especially missed it during the Christmas / New Year season, as it was my blogging anniversary (blogiversary?!) and the first time since I started Hmmm… that I missed blogging with @FiFYI in the #blog12daysxmas challenge.

Mea culpa. I’ll know next time.

It’s only when something is broken that we realise how much we’ve taken it for granted. Sad, but true. So my plan is to learn from this experience. ‘Regular maintenance of the things I’d rather not bother with’ is my new policy. And I’ve even future-scheduled this ‘maintenance’ time and set appropriate reminders on my phone, so if I get busy with offline distractions, or if I forget or get lazy, then it’ll remind me. And I can’t get angry with my beautiful phone that Hubby gave me for Christmas, which still feels so new, can I? No 🙂 So yes, back ups are always a help, aren’t they!

Make sure, dear readers, that you maintain access to your stuff. Keep usernames and passwords and back up copies. Let loved ones know your secret stash spot for said usernames and passwords. And do it now.

So anyway, that’s my story. And I must admit, I’m pretty proud of myself that I’ll – hopefully – learn from the experience.

What about you? Have you ever lost access to something – that you only discovered was important once it was broken?

CC image courtesy Yuri Samoilov on Flickr

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#blogjune Life momentous events teaching Work

Hat-less

A few months ago, I shaved my head for #ShaveForACure. I raised quite a bit of money… but more than that, I raised awareness of blood-related cancers in the hundreds of kids I teach on a weekly basis.

Today, for the first time since I had my head shaved in front of them all, I’m hat-less.

Here goes!


Have a great day, dear reader!

–KRidwyn

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#blogjune momentous events

Conversations with my younger children…

Yesterday, we went out for breakfast. Mooloolaba Surf Club – breakfast overlooking the water. All you can eat. And the food is always yummier if you’re the one not preparing it or washing up, don’t you find?

Miss7 decided to serve herself fruit salad. She ate some rockmelon, gushing, “This is my favourite fruit of all time! I love rockmelon just sooooooooo much!”

I looked at her. (We rarely have rockmelon in the house, because I’m the only one who eats it.) “Really?” I asked “Since when?”

She paused in her munching, and thought about it for a few moments. Then she turned to me, all seriousness, and said “Since I was six.”

It was hard to keep a straight face, but I managed. I think.

Mr6’s conversation, immediately after breakfast, left a different kind of feeling. He took my hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “Mummy?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“I’m autistic.”

“Yes,” I said, my eyes tearing up. “Yes, my sweet. You are.”

It was a bittersweet meal.

 

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momentous events my novel-in-progress

Smiling – while sick

Hip hip hooray, it’s my birthday today!

It’s 4.30am. The house is dark and quiet and I’m sitting at the dining table at my computer. I am happy.

I am also sick. I’m guessing that, by the way my body feels, I have a case of pretty much full-blown flu. The tissues keep being moved from their original box on my right, to the bin on my left, getting soggy on the way and making my nose red and more sore in the journey (Note to self: Hubby needs to buy a couple of boxes of Aloe Vera ones today. Maybe a couple of hundred boxes.) My throat is sore, and I think I’m coughing at a rate of twice per minute. Less now that I’m sitting upright, and closer to our very-warm fireplace. But my back and the muscles in my diaphragm are aching in sympathy with each cough. And don’t get me started on the head uncomfy-ness!

But I am happy. Because I set myself a deadline, and today was it. Today, I turn 41. And I desperately wanted to be able to say “I finished my first book at the age of 40”. Finishing it today, or at any other point in the future, would have been too late. Because I can no longer say “I am 40”.

But that’s okay. I made my deadline – weeks ago, actually! In fact, I’m most-of-the-way through editing it, as well! Stoked!!!

So, on a practical note, I’ve updated my ‘About’ page. I’ve also added another short story to my ‘Short stories’ page, for anyone who’s interested.

And have a happy day, dear reader – I know that I’m planning to!

— KRidwyn

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Life

hard to get moving

It’s been hard to get moving this morning.

I *have* been – it was an unexpected wake-up call at 5.30 instead of the usual 6 that did it, and I’ve done all that I normally would have done for this time on a Monday morning – but it’s been hard.

I’ve been down. Melancholy.

I think it’s the five deaths during last Friday night’s floods. The aftermath and the cleanup that’s going to be happening now that a new week has begun. The settling back into disrupted routine for most…and the knowledge that, for some, that routine has been destroyed forever.

I am so incredibly grateful that my husband and three young cherubs made it home safe last week. Life is a treasure, and I think that often I have not treasured it enough. It’s fragile. And fleeting.

We should make the most of it.

So that’s my intention. Starting now. To treasure life, and those that my Lord has put into my life. To remember those five people who lost their lives, and their families who are mourning right now, but not to be debilitated by my own grief, about what might easily have happened to my own family.

I would normally finish with ‘have a great day, dear reader’. I just want to point out that this is what I truly wish, for each and every one of you who is – or ever might be – reading this sentence right now. My hope for you is that your day (or night, whenever you are reading this) is a good one. One which you can look back on, and smile, and think, “I’m happy with how that day went.” I truly appreciate your taking your precious time and using it to read my words. I hope that they have blessed you in some way.

So – have a great day, dear reader. 🙂

— KRidwyn

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Uncategorized

Weather event

helpless – a poem

I sit
In silence.

There should be noise.
There should be people.

“Weather event,” they say.
“Too dangerous,” they say.

 

I hug my knees tight against my chest. I dare not swallow, straining instead to hear the sounds I seek. My throat is tight. Every part of my body is tense. I am a taut coil of stillness.

And silence.

Ready to explode.

But waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.

 

News reports gleefully show photos. Videos.

Wind. And rain.

And water, water, water, water, water.

Reporters with fake concern spout statistics.

More questions than answers fill my computer screen, my news feeds; friends and followers all seeking information when there’s none to give. More questions. Few answers. I turn off the TV.  The batteries die in my devices, one by one.
Worry consumes me.

Parents, like me,
sit
and wait
Watching
Listening to the silence
Worrying

Worrying

Worrying
And worrying
And worrying.

There should be noise here. There should be people.

But I sit
In silence

And worry.

How long, Lord? How long?

 

Aftermath – a poem

The surf roars this morning.

It’s showing off. Reminding the world of the power of nature.

The power to disrupt lives.

To take lives.

The kids arrived home from school gone 10 o’clock last night. Every road had been cut. But they were safe.

Not every child could say that.

 

Parents

sitting vigils over empty houses

had cried with relief

Loved ones home, safe.

But not every parent made it home safe last night.

 

Morning sun brings answers

There is dryness. Warmth. Work to do, repairs to make.

But not everyone will see the sun today. Not everyone will help with the work.

 

And the distant surf is roaring this morning. Boasting of the power of nature

to disrupt lives.

To take lives.

I can hear it.

Amidst the noise, the surf.

Roaring.