Christianity family anecdotes places to visit

The importance of air

Hubby took the kids and I camping on Fraser Island last week. Yes, in a tent. Yes, it’s barely just out of winter, and we all know how cold temperatures and I don’t see eye to eye.

But he wanted me to come (and lets’s face it, looking after three excited cherubs is always easier when there are two adults instead of one) and so I did.

screen-shot-2016-10-02-at-6-11-20-pmIt was a better holiday than I had expected it would be. It was warmer, for a start! I was mentally preparing for ‘freezing’ and so to not reach below zero was rather pleasant. Yes, the nights were chilly but only one of them was decidedly uncomfortable. One is manageable.

But the title of this post is ‘the importance of air’ and that’s exactly what we had too much of.

In the tyres, that is.

You see, driving up the western beach on high tide, on the world’s largest sand island, towing a VERY heavy trailer, isn’t easy at the best of times.

And Hubby decided to test how well our Pajero could do it with 30 PSI in the tyres.

Needless to say, the soft sand got the better of us. We bogged. Up to the axles, with the incoming tide lapping at the tyres.

There was LOTS of praying happening, let me tell you!

Within a minute, good Samaritans were there to help. Giving advice, helping lower the air pressure, and even snatch-strapping us out of the soft stuff before the tide could get us any more than it already was.

Praise God for answered prayer!

Moral of the story: don’t try running the beach at anything less than low tide, and if you have to (as we did) for goodness’ sake, LOWER THE TYRE PRESSURE TO 15 PSI!!!

#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity places to visit

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #3

A couple of weekends ago, Hubby and I took our three cherubs to Rainbow Beach for a long weekend. It’s one of my favourite places in the world.

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Being there, in bright sunshine with sandy toes and wind-swept hair, I could relax. I could breathe deeply, and know that things would be okay. That everything *would* eventually work out for the best. That the God who could make such a perfect place, could also look after little ol’ me with my little ol’ problems.

And I feel that way every time I take a moment and look out at the wonderful creation that God has made for us to live in. I look at the ‘rainforest stream’ on my computer background, or at my wall-calendar featuring a photo of the Great Barrier Reef, and know that He’s an all-powerful God with an incredible imagination. [One of my favourite Facebook videos recently was the chameleon walking past coloured sunglasses. Absolutely spectacular!]

Colossians 1:16 says, “for through him [Jesus] God created everything in the heavenly realms and on earth. He made the things we can see and the things we can’t see – such as thrones, kingdoms, rulers, and authorities in the unseen world. Everything was created through him and for him.”

Which means that I can relax. God created everything, including creating me. He has the perfect plans for me; he created them! I don’t have to worry about my little ol’ problems; they’ve already been taken care of. That’s NOT to say “I can goof off now”; not at all… but instead the little amydala inside my brain doesn’t need any more of a workout than it’s already getting. Amy Grant’s “All I ever have to be” springs to mind 🙂


And that’s my takeaway lesson for Day 3 of this A to Z blogging challenge. God is the Creator of all things. Which means I can ‘Keep Calm’ – for real; because God’s got it covered!

Have a great day, dear reader!



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On the benefits of membership in a local writers group

Writing is a solo sport. “Sport?” I hear you laugh. Yes, I argue. It requires discipline. Improvement of skills. Goal setting and achievement reaching. And, let’s face it, the noun ‘sport’ is just so much stronger than the noun ‘activity’. And it’s my blog, so I get to say what nouns get used. And today, I want to use the noun ‘sport’. So there.

But that’s not the point. The point is, that it’s a SOLO sport. One done by individuals, not teams. And as such, this sport that writers practice, is – by its very nature – a lonely one. And that’s okay. We understand that.

But it’s not good to be alone. To grow, to develop, to improve, we need community. Others. To help us, to hone our skills, to give us instantaneous feedback, constructive criticism, to inspire and encourage and tell us straight when we’ve completely screwed something up and need to give up and start over.

And that’s where a local writers group comes in. For me, at least.

There are a dozen regular members in the group I’m a member of. Writers of fantasy, of bush ballads and other poetry, of romance. writers of biographies and autobiographies. Writers of history. Radio script writers. And me.

This morning, our challenge was to rewrite a short event (read ‘news clip’) into a much longer, more sensational piece (read ‘feature article’). This was fun. The 34 year old Berlin-born burglar of guitars, amps and other music equipment from a Philadelphian storage locker back in March, became a far more sinister figure in my retelling of the news event. He morphed into a Nazi-background, revenge-seeking criminal mastermind, intent on world domination through his dealings in Weapons of Mass Destruction. And that was just mine! Others’ entries ranged from watermelon-wielding elephants to boganvillea intent on injuring their owners. What lively discussions ensued!

And that’s my point. Writing is lonely. And I find it essential, if I’m aiming to improve in this sport that I’ve chosen, to un-loneli-fy myself. To be a part of a vibrant writing community which so inspires me every fortnight.

I love it. Am I the only one, I wonder?

Anyway, have a great day, dear reader! 🙂

— KRidwyn


Life places to visit


I am a very, very, very blessed person. I live in a free country, and in a very beautiful part of it. I have a wonderful husband and three gorgeous kids. I have a house to protect me from the elements, a vehicle to transport me and my family, a brilliant and fulfilling (although exhausting) job that helps to pay the mortgage and keep food in the fridge, and best of all I have a Saviour who considered me worth dying for.
Thank you, Lord, for blessing me so abundantly. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

(Photo taken this morning, at Kings Beach Pool, Caloundra)

Life Technology

My flickr account – waiting, waiting, waiting…

I’m not a great photographer. If I take a half-decent photo, it’s generally a fluke. Plus, as regular readers of my blog would know, I’m not too keen on plastering pictures of my kids all over the web – and let’s face it, they’re the ones I spend most of my time with!

This would be the main reason why my flickr account doesn’t get a whole lot of use. Which is something that I’d like to change. But I’m waiting for multiple accounts to be enabled in ifttt, and then I’m planning on automating my flickr posts – which hopefully will encourage me to take more photos in the first place!

Be that as it may, I’m pretty proud of a photo I took recently. A storm had just gone through, and the colours of the sunset over the Glasshouse Mountains were just stunning. The view looking out over my front gate. Heavenly, no?

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Innocent pleasures

There was a time, a week or so ago, when it stopped raining long enough for the kids and I to venture outside. We have a pretty tiny house, so having a large backyard is wonderful. Especially when it’s dry enough to enjoy it!

Being weary (as is my seemingly permanent state) I decided on this day to pull out the hammock dear Hubby bought me for a not-so-distant birthday. So I hung it up and jumped in, ready to laze – and then Miss 4 piped up with a “Jump on the trampoline with me, Mummy!”

I had just gotten comfortable, so said ‘no’ (Yes, I know. Yet one more example of how much of a #badmummy I am…!) but suggested that she place a ball on the trampoline and jump with that. Unfortunately though, she must have inherited some of my laziness (or is catching it via osmosis? You be the judge!) so rather than get off the trampoline to fetch the ball, she decided to use one of her boots as a jumping companion instead. And added one of her brother’s boots for good measure.

‘Twas very cute. See for yourself! (And yes, I know. The orientation’s wrong. D’Oh!)

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I love my kids. To bits. Deeply. And forever. But man! It’s good to get a night out occasionally!

Last night was such a night. I left the “Mummy!”; “Mummy!”, and the “Mummy!” to Daddy for a bit, and escaped with a great friend to the movies.

It was raining. I didn’t care. I got wet. I didn’t care. It was dark, and cold. Again, I didn’t care. I was out, and I was in excellent company, and I had no kids.

The movie was hilarious. “This Means War“, the latest Reese Witherspoon rom com, a little like the ‘Spy vs Spy’ of my older brother’s Mad magazines, back when I was a teenager. But funnier.

I think my taste in movies has changed over time. Although I have NEVER been able to handle horror movies – they don’t do anything for me at all – I used to quite like thrillers. Romantic comedies were alright, and I cold happily pay the money to see a kid’s movie, but my favourite were action flicks. Anything with Bruce Willis; later on Vin Diesel, or Jason Stratham. Now, not so much. Yes, action flicks are still great, but I can’t do too many thrillers any more. Maybe it’s that I see enough tension in my day-to-day life that I don’t relish it in what little time I give myself for leisure time? I’m not sure. But now, it’s more the superficial light-hearted “escape” that I seem to prefer, as evidenced by last night’s choice. And the time before that it was “What’s Your Number” – another click flick, escapist, triviality.

Still an’ all – last night was great. I got home and the kitchen was a mess, toys covered the floor, and life returned to normal, but I knew that for a couple of hours I had escaped. And been rejuvenated. Which was wonderful!

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I love the anticipation of a journey!

Source: via Heidi on Pinterest

Not knowing where it will lead, or where it will take you in the process… as an optimist, the thought of where I could end up always makes me smile with the possibilities!

Tomorrow and Friday I’ll be at my first Lutheran Education Queensland (LEQ) conference. Possibly my first of many! (At the next one, on the 28th of February, I’m actually the presenter! It’s called ‘Harnessing the Power of Digital Marketing’, and I’m the ‘Professional Digital Marketing consultant’ that they’ve got addressing the LEQ Principals and Business Managers. Cool or what?!!)

So I feel as though I’m taking my first steps into a journey I’m very much looking forward to taking.

Wish me luck, dear readers!

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*My* chair

A couple of years ago, I was having trouble coping. It felt as though my life was one big pile of pressure, and there was no relief in sight. I felt that there wasn’t even any place in my own house that I could escape from the demands of others, or of my own (sometimes unreasonable) expectations of myself as a new mother, happy wife, and indifferent yet not-TOO-slack housekeeper.
So I snapped, and demanded Hubby buy me a chair. One of my own choosing, for my personal use ONLY.
(Plus, baby number three was unexpectedly on his way, and we’d given away my feeding chair with all the other baby stuff, after our second daughter had arrived.)
So I threw a right royal tantrum, and got *my* chair. Rule number one: it’s Mummy’s chair. No-one puts toys or books on it, and no one sits on it without asking first. Grown-ups included. Rule number two: never forget Rule number one.
I love my chair. I use it, and no one else does. It is wholly and solely, irrevocably, MINE and everyone knows it.
And I love it! My ‘special place’. Just for me.
My chair.

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I love waking up. It’s something that happens very rarely, maybe once or twice a year. Okay, maybe three. Or four. But not more than half-a-dozen, I’m sure of it.
Right now you’re thinking “This chic is crazy”. And yes, I probably am a little, but not over this. So I guess I’d better explain myself.
I rarely ‘wake up’ because I’m always being ‘woken up’. Yes, there is a distinction. No, I never understood the distinction until I became a parent.
I absolutely LOOOOOOOOOVE waking up. The sensation of realising that you’re awake, and that you’ve slept, and that now that you’re awake you can tell that you’ve achieved this state of wakefulness all by yourself, and that you don’t have to immediately rush out of bed to attend a child, a pet, or other miscellaneous disturbance, but that you have the leisure to lie there for a minute, or two, or three, (or even maybe to go back to sleep again!) with noone demanding your time, your attention, your energy… Yes, I love waking up.
I have never owned an alarm clock. I have always been a ‘morning person’. I have always woken at 6, or before if I was anxious about anything. Those days are gone now. A pity, in a way, but I’d NEVER give up my kids just to get a few hours more sleep. The benefits far outweigh, and all that sort of stuff.
Take my mornings, now.
Most of them, say around 17 or 18 out of 20, I wake up when the door to my bedroom opens. It’s generally around 5.45am, and the house is dark and quiet. Mr 2 walks quietly past Hubby and around to my side of the bed. He then stands there with his hand on my shoulder or arm, until I put an arm around him. Or he climbs up next to me and lies down. He doesn’t make a sound. He’ll stay quiet, not moving. He won’t fall asleep. He’s just happy being hugged. And he stays with me ’til I take him out of the room.
My daughters never did that. Sure, they came in on the odd occasion, or they tried to, but it was always a ‘middle of the night’ thing, not a ‘I’ve woken up now and I know it’s morning but instead of playing with my toys in my room (which is what he used to do) I want to give you a hug until you’re ready to get up and play with me’.
I love that about my mornings. I know it’s a phase, and he’ll grow out of it quicker than I want him too, but right at the moment, his early morning cuddle trumps even ‘my waking up’.
And I love that.

Photo: Mr 2. Taken by the exceptional Greg Parsons.