Mentoring Mimi

on Saturday, October 31, 2009

Written almost a decade ago but still reflecting my heart today ......

I glanced across the room and my eye caught a tiny apprentice person perched on a chair, round with baby fat and full of charm. Most children have an inbred inability to evaluate how to use a chair in the purpose it was designed for and she was no exception. She was kneeling up slumped over the back, swivelling the chair from side to side. Her whole body was dripping wet from swimming in the pool, her blonde hair clung to her round face and podgy cheeks. She was beaming showing a mouthful of baby teeth, her eyes danced as they met with mine realising that she had my full audience. My heart jumped and then melted as she worked me with her giggle. With no words spoken and with no inhibitions she ministered to my heart far greater than any counselor could ever do and in less time and cost.

I refocused my mind to search for any familiarity with this child, to search for who she was and what made her unique. I wondered if I could possibly find any claim to have a bond with this beautiful spirit or maybe to even find evidence of having had some influence in molding who she was. She was so cute, innocent and edible. She was so strong, individual and knowing. She was my daughter! But there was so much about her that I didn’t know, things that were distant and unfamiliar.

“Wook at me Mummy” she ordered. Mummy! How rewarding that felt I wondered if I had really fulfilled this title. Had I done her justice for the position I held? Have I served any of my children like God had designed mums to nurture their young?

Oh sure. I have washed their clothes, fed them, kissed their boo boo’s, played, hugged, and taught them all the stuff they need to know to survive as far as short people are concerned, loved them to bits and encouraged a pretty shiny character to package the whole parcel. But that is so trivial. What about their very soul, their eternal destiny. Am I to be an accomplice to their eternal damnation? So what if it is through being blinded by the world or naive or through lack of Godly action. Even if responsibility was taken from me for these pitiful excuses, could I live with the fact that my children could potentially live apart from me and their creator?

They could possibly be ahead in math and accomplished musicians and read all kinds of literature way beyond their peers but that means squat to their eternal destination. They may be brushed, scrubbed and dressed to look like they stepped out of an add for Target apparel with polished manners and character to match. But this too could be just surface and just like rearing a bunch of trained seals having no reflection on their heart; their true soul. They could even give lip service of dozens of Bible stories and memorise chapters of His word but unless it touches and changes their heart, it’s useless. A lot of attention is given to maintaining their bodies but it’s their hearts that are the real life.

Oh, Father, show us how to touch our children’s hearts so they can see you. See you and fall in love. Enough to crave you constantly, to search for you and want to know you personally and intimately with urgency. This is true parenting; to love our babies earning their trust and hearts and give them back to God.

Friday, 26 January 2001

Fly Be Free - zing!

on Tuesday, October 27, 2009

~ wordless wednesday ~

Posted by Picasa

Beyond Herself

on Friday, October 23, 2009

A year and a half later we have a healthy little man .... a repost but a reason to exhale, sit back and be in wonder.

The throb of the blades rhythmically cut through the air. As the rotor gained momentum, the noise swelled making communication nearly impossible. This lack only isolated her further and she felt like a bystander in a scene from a movie. The big yellow Westpac helicopter now gained height, and the hospital grounds melted away along with all that was familiar. Her safe surroundings, her town, looked different from the air at night ablaze with lights in neat corridors. Events were surreal, control was beyond her and nothing seemed comfortable or safe. Her contribution to this emergency medical retrieval seemed negligible as she was at the end of herself to sustain the life of her twelve week old boy. She wondered how this would end and if she would have the energy to see this through?

So much had been given and endured already for his life to be; sickness, planning, longing, money, time, dreams, hopes. So much selfless sacrifice passionately offered. But all that wasn’t enough to guarantee his survival. Neither was any amount of status, bribery or good works. His life was totally beyond all guarantees as is ours. Yet immense resource was lavished and every attempt made to sustain the life of Kyler Jack.

Attempts to allow him to live and enjoy the depth of his mother’s adoration, to let him suckle and nuzzle and feel totally safe. As his consciousness grew, his world would include his siblings, learning to jostle and find place in his family where he adapts to sharing his parents affection. Learn to give in love yet still love when not given. Discover the substance in relationships and the depth in forgiveness as wounds are dealt. Find sweetness in an emerging longing for shared enjoyment of another person. Let him discover the treasures and truths in life that really give it genuine substance. And to climax in full circle as longing and hope would be sown and unconditional love allows new life to birth through his own children.

Would his life be fully lived as he now struggled to breath on his own? Monitors taped to his body delivered numbers which gave the young doctor no reason for concern as oxygen tubes kept levels at an acceptable saturation. She smiled in understanding as the medic offered her a thumbs up to put her mind at ease, to reveal stability in her baby’s condition, sign language the only communication possible over the din of the chopper. Grateful, she wondered how these front line medics dealt with such a critical responsibility, of being the hope of so many for their children. Why this young man would even want to labour through situations that possibly produce the absolute worse of any circumstance; lost life. Does he labour because the possibility of being able to interrupt the demise of health is worth the risk of his own distress?

Why do we all have such a solid conviction to pour so much of ourselves into each other? Sure some would act from motives that are self serving, others lives being used to meet their own perceived needs but most intuitively recognise a truth far more profound. What even causes us to have babies when there is so much of ourselves to deny, so much of ourselves required. Our children’s lives are open cisterns for us to pour in everything we are. Yet; we give knowing that their lives are their own and we give unconditionally, with no strings attached, freely allowing them to choose their response to us. To choose the degree of which they love and enjoy in return. What a risk! What a gamble! Or is it?

Hovering over Randwick Children’s Hospital, it was impossible to not be in awe of the colossal red sun rising and declaring that a new day had begun. A quick descent, an envelopment of buildings around the craft and a converging of medical staff stole her oasis of quiet and deep sense of perspective. She struggled with the pace to stay close to the medical entourage through the corridors and tunnels of the Intensive Care Unit, then watched as a CPAP machine took the strain from his breathing. In the blur, she stepped back and saw a bigger picture as bed after bed was filled with children whose outcomes were uncertain and whose parents fed on hope and prayer to sustain them for the tough road they would need to walk.

It was now definite that regardless of the outcome, she would fight through her fatigue, emotions and fears, digging into the very depth of who she was, as a child herself yet an over comer, to give every opportunity of life. However this finished, it would be done with grace and gratitude. Life for her was long enough lived to know that life and relationships was God’s opus. There held the greatest depth and satisfaction. The delight to be enjoyed and to enjoy. Deep freedom was found in not placing expectations but in loving with expectancy, in not demanding responsibility but anticipating response from intimacy offered. To stand solidly and humbly offering everything she was even through her weakness and embrace response the way others choose to give. This was offered to her nine other children and no less would be offered to her baby.

Resolved to love through the pain, she journeyed the medical protocols with tenacity. But finally, the day came where monitors were turned off. Beds were stripped and personal effects placed around the unit for emotional support collected. Good byes were said to nurses who were more than staff but people who were now written in her life’s story. Her journey home wasn’t as dramatic. There was no urgency, no rush. But there was a profound air of fullness as she didn’t travel alone. Her son was also able to return to their corner in the world and discover for himself the richness found in life and unconditional love.

Two Faces of One

on Tuesday, October 20, 2009

~ wordless wednesday ~

For Janine

on Wednesday, October 14, 2009

To a friend who makes me smile more than sniffle ...

Undoubtedly you will travel this road again with tenacity and strength, with eyes firmly fixed on the big picture. But today, along with a plethora of others, I walk with you in my thoughts which are shared with Him.

Not because your life has fed my eternal perspective
... even though it has;

not because your example now encourages me through uncertainties
... even though it has;

not because if you can't have what you love, you love what you have
... even though you do;

not even because you make me want to be a better person,
... even though that happens;

but because the where of going isn't half as important as the who you travel with

... and you are a really valuable who; someone with whom I'd like to walk.

Fired Up

~ wordless wednesday ~

Still Need To Go?

on Tuesday, October 6, 2009

~ wordless wednesday ~

found this on a bush toilet block

Mask I Be Real?

on Monday, October 5, 2009

I wear a mask.

It’s if for my emotional protection. Makes me feel better; safer. If I can hide bits of myself or even present my persona as someone completely different, then those who judge aren’t really judging ME. When there’s fault finding to be had, it’s aimed at the ‘made up’ me, the one I’ve created to be more likeable, more together and definitely less vulnerable; fragile. This way, I can dodge the condescension, the wounding I take right to my core. Savvy move right?

And I am quite good at it too, residing in my fabricated bubble. No wondering why though; been working on this front for close on forty years now. Some escape personal attack with busy-ness, some with achievement, others with alcohol. Me; I like my mask cause it blends in best with all the other lukewarm people who like Christ.

Yeah sure. I know this is self medicating and rooted in doubt that God loves me amazingly and does all things for my good. In my head obviously because if I believed that in my heart, there would be trust, and faith and profoundly different outcomes in my life.

But I’m pretty happy with ‘average’ anyway. Why would I want to aim for ‘more than enough’ when I’m trying to conform to this world?! With an abundant life, I would just stick out like a sore thumb and be way open to attack then. Nope. Blend I say. Normal. Same. So what if we are all made different; we can improvise.

And to make things even more predictable and in (my) control, I like to design and accessorise a mask for God too. Then I know what to expect and can go with the three step plan to Christianity. Tucks my life away in nice little boxes. Neat, safe …yeah maybe a bit plastic and fake.

But there’s no way my nerves could handle letting God off His leash. How on earth would I manage explaining blind faith and relationship with a God who breaths stars and makes leminin glue which keeps our dirt made bodies together. And where’s the fun of hanging around a smarty pants who has a clear perspective on how many universes there are and for heavens sake. Who really cares how many hairs I have on my head? But then there’s the relationship He would want. How messy is that? Who believes He really loves us anyway. I have been spending all my energy trying to change this mess of my life into someone my dog will like little loan procuring the love of the God of the Universe.

Nope. Better spending my life keeping my front. Besides, if I didn’t have a mask to primp, where would I place all my energy? Into enjoying Him? In my mind, I’ve created Him into a weak, box dwelling wimp anyway and what’s so enjoyable about that?

(please note that my tongue is firmly planted in my satirical cheek... mostly)