how deep the Father's love for us...

This evening, I've been eating a piece of humble pie for dessert...

All week, I've been visiting my parents, and I drove home today, with the two little ones in the back. It's a five hour trip, and it rained for the last two hours.

So by the time I got home, I was a rather tired and disgruntled. All afternoon, I listened to myself scolding, and raising my voice at my four year old son. I knew I shouldnt, but really, holding my tongue seemed like too much effort.

He was being a normal four year old boy: making loud noises, pulling faces in the mirror, being overly boisterous with his baby brother.

Everything he did just seemed to grate on my nerves...

Anyway, this evening I was asked by a friend if I would accompany them on the piano for a song they are going to perform at church next week. I'd never heard of the song before, so I hunted it down on Youtube.

How deep the Father's love for us. If you've never heard it, I urge you to have a listen. It is absolutely beautiful..Click here

While I listened to the lyrics, big tears rolled down my face, and in an instant all my tiredness and irritability disappeared. I looked over at my son, who had fallen asleep on the sofa (no doubt, exhausted from all his boisterousness...) and I remembered anew, that my children are a most priceless treasure from the heart of God himself.

I must tread carefully and prayerfully, because the job of growing up a child, is an awesome and heavy responsibility.

I must remember to be oh so thankful, that he has legs to run around on, and a bright, inquisitive mind to ask lots of questions, a little brother to love, toys to leave laying around...

oh, happy day

Easter Sunday was an extra-special day for me.

I went to church and got baptised.

I was not baptised as a baby, because my parents believed it should be a choice.

A week or so earlier, the minister had asked me if I would also give my testimony during the service. I thought long and hard over what to say, and eventually just decided to tell my story.

For some reason, I have always known, that I would be asked to tell my story one day. I knew that this was something that God wanted me to do, and that someone, somewhere, in the audience, needed to hear what I had to say.

The church was packed to the rafters. It was a standing room only. Literally.

I felt emotional, but not nervous. I was completely certain that God was right there next to me, telling me to use the gift that he had given me. I have only become aware of this gift in the last couple of years - being a good public-speaker.

By the time I reached the end of my testimony, I was in tears, and so was everyone else, including the minister. I know in my heart, that God was there that day, using me to speak to others, and I feel so very humbled that He saw fit to do that.

It was such a happy day. I had already given my life to God, but the feeling that I needed to be baptised has been prodding at me for a couple of years now.

The minister explained to me, that I wasn't being baptised into The Uniting Church. I was being baptised into God's church.

I feel like this is another step in my long-and-windy spiritual journey. It is a step taken in faith.

I know that God has many plans for me. This year, I was voted to be the Sunday School teacher, and I was so cheered when I saw all my Sunday school kids, sitting in the front row, to see me get baptised.

I was also chosen to become a lay-preacher, and asked to do my first service later this year.

It is such an exciting time for me. I feel that I am just starting to learn about the purpose that God has for my life. It may not be the one that I would have chosen for myself, but I hope I will always be willing and enthusiastic, and give nothing less than my best.

the love of money...

I must confess I had always felt a bit uncomfortable about money. To utter "God" and "money" in the same sentence, just seemed so unholy, and crass, somehow.

I, in my wisdom, imagined God had no interest in money. He would see it as something of this world, and He was far above that. He didn't need money to do His work, He could find ways around it. He is God, after all!!

Every Sunday, as the collection bowl got passed around, I would obligingly empty out the coins in my purse.

I would frown in DH's direction, as he put in $20 notes.

Didn't he know that we had bills to pay?!

Little did I know....

God had a lesson on the way for me.

It started like this.

The Tongan church traditionally does a misinale, once a year, where you get together as much money as you possibly can, and put it into the treasury.

Every year, we planned to stash money away every week, so that when misinale day came around, we would have a generous amount to put in.

But every year, car regos needed paying, and everything cost more than we budgeted for (you know how it goes!), and by the time misinale came around, we were lucky to scrape $300 together.

Then the church brought in an envelope system where you put your offering in the envelope every week, anonymously, and put it in the collection.

DH declared that we would put in $80 per week.

$80 per week!!!!

My mind ran amuk with thoughts of all the groceries I could buy with $80 every week.

I figured that since he often sent money home to his family in Tonga, surely that could be counted towards the $80 per week?!

That seemed logical to me.

But no. DH would have none of it...

I eventually agreed to $80 p/w, as long as he would quit smoking, which he did.

And so we began.

Some weeks, I put the envelope in, not knowing how we would cover all our bills.

But somehow we managed.

Then something interesting happened.

DH and I both got our tax returns back, much more than we expected.

Then my work announced they were going to outsource some jobs, and would be looking at redundancies. This might sound like bad news, but I'd already decided I would be leaving at the end of the year to start my own business anyway.

I had only been working there for 3 years, so didnt expect a very big redundancy, but because I put my hand up and went voluntarily, which they were offering extra incentives for, I ended up with a redundancy payment of over $16,000. (It turned out that everyone in my section was later made redundant, anyway. Minus the $7000 incentive that I got for going voluntarily.)

This payout helped me start up a business, and went towards paying for our wedding in 2008 (we had been wanting to get married for a couple of years, but could never seem to come up with the money).

And that's not all!

DH got a phone call from his uncle living in Sydney, insisting that he come up and collect some paperwork. DH tried to get out of it, thinking what a hassle it was, but eventually agreed, and took the bus up to Sydney for the day.

His uncle gave him a big envelope, and DH had a look inside, but it was full of big words that he couldn't understand, so shoved it in his bag, and brought it back home to me.

After I started reading it, I realised it was his uncle's will. I read on a bit further, and got a shock, when I realised that he was leaving everything he owned to DH.

I started to understand, in my heart of hearts, that God was teaching me a very powerful lesson, here.

I had given a little (in the whole scheme of things...). And not only that, I had given it ungraciously.

But God gave me something far, far greater, in return.

Whatever I have to give, will only be miniscule, in comparison to what God has given me.

Whether it's money, time or talents, it was all lent to me by God, anyway.

When my husband suggested we raise our offering to $100 per week, I agreed.

These days, we put our money in the envelope first, before we pay anything else.

When I put it into the collection bowl, I think how small my offering is, compared with the greatness of God, and my heart zings with gratitude for all that I have...

And all that He has seen fit to teach me.

woman.....you are forgiven.

On a Sunday morning in '05, after a long painful labour, our baby son, Nathan was born.

He was a good baby, and it's just as well, because I did not have a clue what I was doing. I cringe when I think about the ridiculous things I asked the MACH nurses when they came to do home visits.

But somehow, I muddled my way through.

Looking back, I think it's highly possible that I suffered post natal depression. I had no family nearby, and had not really made many friends in Canberra. I felt isolated at home all day, and when he was ten months old, I went back to work.

And this is when I had to learn to depend on God.

Leaving my baby to be looked after by someone else was so hard. He would cry and wriggle, as his carer held him, and reach out his chubby little arms for me to hold him.

Some mornings I felt so awful, that after I arrived at work, I would sit in the carpark and pray, that God would take care of my son, and keep him safe and happy while we were apart, and help me get through the day.

Afterwards, I felt a sense of peace, like I had handed my worries and fears over to God, and it was in His hands now. I began to do it every morning before work.

I felt like I was beginning to have a relationship with God, but in the back of my mind, I was plagued with doubts, over whether I was really forgiven.

Could he REALLY forgive a person like me?

I had made so many foolish mistakes, even though I had been brought up to know better. And not only that, but I had made the same mistakes over and over, and hurt people along the way.

One day, I was at home watching tv, and I just happened to flick over to the Australian Christian Channel (we could afford Foxtel back then...!), and someone was preaching. I started to listen, and just before he finished, he said " Somewhere out there, is a woman who's made some bad decisions, and she's wondering if she could be forgiven.

I tell you.....Woman....you are forgiven."

I fell down on the floor, sobbing, because I knew it was for me.

It sounds crazy, but even before the man said it, I knew that what he was about to say, was for me. I just knew that God was about to tell me something.

That day, the weight of my past was lifted off me. I wanted to dance for joy, and sing it from the rooftops.

That God - awesome, loving, almighty, all-knowing God, had forgiven me....

Yes, even me.

the best choice i've ever made

Right, ummmm.....where was I?!

We were living in Orange at the time, and not long before we went to Tonga, we came to Canberra for a weekend to visit DH's cousins. I fell in love with Canberra. It had a big country town feel to it. I said "I'd like to live here" and DH said "Why don't we?" and I said "Well, why dont we?!".....so that's what we did!!

Our job in Orange was offering voluntary redundancies, so we applied, and were both approved, so after we came home from Tonga, we packed up our stuff and headed across the border. It was the first day of Spring, and it seems fitting somehow, because it was the start of a new life for us.

I didn't know anyone in Canberra (except Dh's cousins, who I'd only met the one time), had no job, and nowhere to live, but it felt right. We found somewhere to live, both got offered good jobs, and so began our life in Canberra.

DH was keen to go back to his Tongan roots, so began to attend a Tongan-speaking church service. I started to go along with him, not really because I wanted to, but because I knew it made him happy.

Mostly I was bored stiff, and hardly understood a word, but I loved to listen to the singing. To be honest I didn't believe in "churches". I believed that God lived in people, not buildings, and so I didnt expect to meet God in that place.

Around this time, I discovered that I was pregnant. This was a big surprise for me, because even though I had stopped taking the pill, I was convinced that I would never be able to have a baby. (Let me go back a bit here - after I lost my baby son, I desperately wanted another baby. About 6 months after Isaac died, I discovered I was pregnant again. I wanted to be thrilled and excited, but somehow, nothing was the same as it was the first time. At about 9 weeks pregnant, I began bleeding, and I resigned myself to losing another baby. By the time it was discovered that it was an ectopic pregnancy, it was too late, the tube had already burst, and was bleeding into my stomach. I had emergency surgery, and the tube was removed.

This just seemed to confirm everything I believed about God. If He even existed, He didn't care about me, and I didn't even like Him!! This also seemed to prove that I was never meant to have a baby. I went on the pill, but I was never very strict, and often went days at a time without taking it. I hated the pill, I never felt like my old self, and after moving to Canberra, I (well, we, actually!!) decided to stop taking it, because I was convinced by now, that I could not fall pregnant, anyway. How wrong I was!!!).

Just after this we bought our first home, and moved in.

My parents were disappointed in my decision to live together, and have a baby out of wedlock. I really missed my mum during this time, and I often felt very lonely during my pregnancy, with no family or friends nearby, and while sitting through church, Sunday after Sunday, I began to feel a yearning to have God in my life.

I had never felt this way before. In my youth, I considered myself a Christian, because it was the right thing to do, and I was scared that if I died, I would end up in hell. But now, I longed to feel God near me, and to know that He was with me, and with this precious life growing inside me.

I wondered how I could have Him in my life, after pushing Him away and ignoring Him for so long.I thought that maybe I could reach Him if I prayed, but it had been so long since I prayed, I didn't even know how to.

One night I was laying in my bed, and in desperation, I decided to try and reach out to God. I told Him all the things I was thankful for, every little thing I could think of, even the dark and dreadful experiences I had been through, because even though they almost broke me at the time, they had helped to make me into the person I am now.

I did this every night, and after four or five nights, I started to feel something change. My heart, that was hard and bitter and cynical, started to become thankful and loving. I started to feel the presence of God come close to me. I do not know how to explain this, except to say, I just knew.

There was no "Saul on the road to Damascus" moment when I was struck down by a bright light, but from then on, I started to see God in little things. Whenever something good happened, I remembered God, and said "thank you". Whenever I was annoyed or frustrated, I remembered that God was watching me. When I was worried about things that were out of my control, I handed it over to God, and I began to feel at peace, for the first time in my life.

I had spent years wrestling with God, over who should control my life. I wanted to run my own life!!! And all that had ever brought me, was misery and pain. In the end, I handed the reigns over to Him, gladly.

And it's the best choice I've ever made.

let go and let God

Discovered while de-cluttering the other day....

I dont know where this poem comes from, or even who gave it to me.

LET GO AND LET GOD.

As children bring their broken toys, with tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God, because He is my friend.
But then, instead of leaving Him,
in peace, to work alone
I hung around, and tried to help,
with ways that were my own.
At last, I snatched them back again,
and cried "How could you be so slow?".
"My child", he said "What could I do?
You never did let go".

something beautiful

I had an interesting experience the other day...

The car I'm driving at the moment, is a bit of an old "bomb". I never check the oil or water, and when I do remember to do it, I've got my hands full juggling kids, and it all seems too hard.

Anyway, the last few times I have driven it, I kept getting this "feeling" come over me, that I had to check the water. As per usual, I kept forgetting, but every time I drove it, that "feeling" came back.

The other night, after our evening walk, DH and I just happened to get caught up in our conversation and stopped right next to the car. I perched up on the bonnet, and as I did, I suddenly remembered that I needed to check the water.

You already know the rest of this story, dont you?!?!

Yes, the car was bone-dry. There was not A DROP of water left in it. I would have cooked the engine, THE VERY NEXT TIME I drove that car.

That night I had a dream, and that's exactly what happened in my dream. I was stopped on the side of the road, in the hot summer sun, with a cranky four year old, and a screaming baby, and no-one pulled over to help.

You can call me crazy, but I KNOW God was looking out for me.

When I was younger, I would have scoffed at the idea of God telling me to put water in my car. I thought God had bigger and better things to worry about. But the more I learn, the more I realise that God is in every tiny detail of our life.

I like to think of my life as like a tapestry. And God is pulling it all together, the tiny stitches, and the big.

He is weaving them all, into something beautiful.