I am no good at gift wrapping. I usually limit myself to lending a well placed finger every now and then while Beloved wraps. His meticulous attention to detail, expert tweaking of corners and neat tying of bows bespeaks care and attention whereas my own fumbling attempts look far more like something the fishmonger threw together! It's the thought that counts where a gift is concerned and a well wrapped gift shows far more thought and attention than a fishmonger's parcel!
I was thinking about this the other day and it made me think about the gift that I give Beloved every day - myself. You see, I believe on our wedding day I made that commitment to give myself to my Chosen every day. Each day is a choice to honor that commitment and give myself once again to Beloved.
I must admit, my gift wrapping for Beloved in this department has often resembled my expertise in wrapping other more tangible gifts! I don't like shopping for clothes, nothing seems to fit and it is all so darn expensive. My wardrobe often consisted of men's clothes bought at a discount shop (cheep, modest, good quality, practical, what more do you want?). For many years I viewed the putting on of make up and the use of skin care as needless frivolity limited to air heads and bimbos. Not worthy of the time of 'sensible' and 'intelligent' women like myself. The result wasn't all that pretty!
Then a few years ago our marriage hit the skids. I won't go into detail, but think of a really, really bad place for a marriage to be, times it by about ten and you have where we were! As part of our long haul out of that very nasty place I decided to put aside all my preconceptions and all the well meant advice of others to check out what the BIBLE said about being a wife. I figured there wasn't much I could do about changing HIM but at least I could be the best wife I could be and make it so it wasn't MY fault!
I learned a lot from that time and continue to make being a Godly wife a large part of my prayer, study and meditation time. One small thing I picked up on was my attitude toward presenting myself. The woman in Proverbs 31 had clothing of "silk and purple" (verse 22). Rich, beautiful garments. She didn't seem to do this to make herself beautiful in a vain or conceited way, but none the less, she did it. Why? Surely her time could be better spent than in caring for such garments? Surely the family budget could use those funds or she could give the money away to the poor if needs be and wear simpler, more practical garb? Then it hit me, she may well have chosen her clothes as a way to honor her husband. The same way we carefully wrap gifts, she carefully dressed herself, knowing her appearance would please her husband and reflect well on him in the eyes of others.
It bought into perspective my own choice of men's shirts and jeans!
Wardrobe is a fairly personal thing, touched by culture, background, personality and practicality, but I added "pleasing my husband" to my priorities in clothing myself. Slowly, since then, my wardrobe has changed. It is still essentially practical and modest, requiring little in the way of up-keep, but it is filled with 'code'. Certain garments are chosen because Beloved has commented that he liked the colour or cut. My wardrobe now has skirts in it because I like dressing to celebrate my femininity and inviting my husband to celebrate it with me! Certain garments are a way of saying privately "I care about pleasing you" or "I am glad I am your woman". My 'at home' clothes are chosen with the same amount of care as my 'going out' clothes because surely I should care equally, if not much more so, for pleasing the eye of my husband as for pleasing the eye of strangers.
The way I take care of my body has changed too. I haven't started spending hours in front of the mirror, but I do take a minute to apply make-up and do my hair MOST days now. I have a tube of foot cream in my bedside table that I rub on every night so that when Beloved reaches his foot out to mine in the night, his doesn't get a sandpaper welcome! I apply lip balm and face cream as I come to bed each night to give him a soft face to touch and a welcoming mouth to kiss!
The object is not to turn the heads of strange men on the street, but to make my husband feel like the luckiest man alive when we walk down the street together.
Will a change of wardrobe alone save a crumbling marriage? No. But the change of attitude it symbolises will go far to repairing a severely damaged one. When your actions are crying out to your Beloved every day that you care about him and want to please him, that WILL do good things for your marriage
And guess what? I've started having a little more respect for what is inside the package too. I've realised that this body that I have been blessed with can bring great pleasure to my Beloved AND to me. It does an amazing work bearing and feeding babies and deserves a little care, respect and maintenance. I see myself not as "house-slave" but "homemaker", not as the least important but deserving of a fair portion of my OWN time and attention, not only as companion but also as lover.
I am still no super-model and a day spent wearing my purple flannel PJ's with the pink pigs all over them sounds like heaven to me! BUT, because most days I make that effort, my marriage, my self-esteem and my self image all benefit.
How are you going in the gift wrapping department?
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Some music
A bit of light comic relief
The Mom Song from Northland Video on Vimeo.
And one that made me cry
Prayer for this Child- LIVE from Northland Video on Vimeo.
The Mom Song from Northland Video on Vimeo.
And one that made me cry
Prayer for this Child- LIVE from Northland Video on Vimeo.
Update
Christmas is over and we are all recovering! It was wonderful actually and we had a lovely relaxing time. My grandmother and Beloved's parent's joined us for a lovely day. I got a bit carried away with gifts for the children and three each ended up a bit of an over-kill, but they are all good quality and most of them are played with by all of them. Christmas Dinner was roast turkey (I dried it out a little bit, but it wasn't too bad) with baked veg, steamed veg and salad so fairly simple. We also had pudding and fruit skewers for dessert.
Erin:
has loved having family around and thrived on the excitement of Christmas. One of my most favourite memories of the day is Erin making Christmas Pudding with her grandmother and great grandmother. She also threaded grapes and berries in skewers for after-dinner fruit skewers. She took great pride in her contribution to the Christmas meal! Somehow she has grown up again. I think she has gotten taller, but that isn't really what I am talking about. She has just somehow grown up. Something in her manner has matured and I sometimes see glimpses of the young lady to come. Part of me is so proud of her and her many accomplishments (she read the sentence "My mosquito bites will stop being red and itchy in a few days" today with very little help!) and part of me just wants to wrap her up and cuddle her tight to keep her safe. My little bird is growing plumage and I can see one day she shall fly.
Billy:
had difficulty containing his excitement with the day and the visitors, but he did still enjoy himself immensely. Apparently he crawled into his Nanny's lap and wanted to pray for her. He has also said grace quite a few times. When Nanny had to leave the table to have a rest, he desperately wanted to say grace again for dessert. We explained that we had already asked a blessing on the whole meal, but he insisted. So we bowed our heads (Poppy got a stern look when he didn't down cutlery IMMEDIATELY for prayer! LOL) and what followed wasn't a blessing on the food but a long, heartfelt prayer about Nanny resting and needing rest and needing healing etc. It caused me to tear up!
Christopher:
has taken CONSECUTIVE steps (only two at a time, but still) on more than one occasion. We will have a sprinter soon enough. He is perfecting the art of the dummy-spit but it still rarely if ever gets him anywhere. It can be difficult to stifle the laughter when he throws himself on the ground, fake cries then looks up to see if you're looking at him! He has loved having the extra people around over the holidays and crumpled a little when anyone left. I think he has similar social tendencies to his sister. His special delight is trying on the hats that I bought Billy for Christmas. The pirate hat looks best, but the knight's helmet, the fireman's helmet and the racing bike driver's helmet also look smashing!
The New Baby:
is just fine. My ankles have swollen up to elephantine size over the last few days though so I am on strict instructions to rest with my feet UP. This is not easy to do as I have a million and one things I want to do and other than feeling a little tired, I feel just great. I need some more tests (a 24 hour urine collection which should be fun - not!) to rule out pre-eclampsia, which could end up with me not only birthing in hospital but having a few days on bed rest (possibly in hospital) or being induced which I really don't fancy! I am not too worried at this stage as I believe the protein in my urine is simply a UTI which I usually have when pregnant (antibiotics don't seem to shake it for more than a week or so) and slightly dodgy kidneys. The unusual swelling I put down to the hot weather and Christmas with 3 kids under 4 and a half. It is best to check these things out though and I am again asking for your prayers. Bub is perfectly happy though and settled ready for exit. I am getting plenty of movement, even though there isn't as much room in there (my mother-in-love played the jungle drums on my belly last night!). I tickle the feet of my little one through the side of my belly, I compulsively check the contents of my birth bag just to look at the tiny nappies and clothes (not too tiny - I'm yet to have a REALLY tiny baby!) and day dream about those precious newborn noises, the smell, the warm weight, feeding a little one again, those precious night-time hours when the house is asleep and all you can hear is the tiny gunk-gunk-gunk of the baby swallowing through a sleepy haze.
The house:
still has the remnants of Christmas strewn about and the kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it. Resting with my feet up means there isn't a whole lot I can do about this! I think this is the most frustrating part, being unable to get into the nesting and organising. Before the resting though, I almost finished re-arranging the lounge room so at least as I lay back in my recliner the view ISN'T of boxes and junk..
The Garden:
got a bit of weeding thanks to my MIL and my great-grandmother. I was getting them to help me identify some of the flowers that had sprung up and one thing led to another - we didn't over do it but it has made a huge difference. We found sweet williams, pinks, dianthus, and a hot pink rose.
Exercise:
has been curtailed by the swelling and needing to keep my feet up unfortunately. I had hoped to keep mobile up until delivery but the best laid plans....
Jess
Erin:
has loved having family around and thrived on the excitement of Christmas. One of my most favourite memories of the day is Erin making Christmas Pudding with her grandmother and great grandmother. She also threaded grapes and berries in skewers for after-dinner fruit skewers. She took great pride in her contribution to the Christmas meal! Somehow she has grown up again. I think she has gotten taller, but that isn't really what I am talking about. She has just somehow grown up. Something in her manner has matured and I sometimes see glimpses of the young lady to come. Part of me is so proud of her and her many accomplishments (she read the sentence "My mosquito bites will stop being red and itchy in a few days" today with very little help!) and part of me just wants to wrap her up and cuddle her tight to keep her safe. My little bird is growing plumage and I can see one day she shall fly.
Billy:
had difficulty containing his excitement with the day and the visitors, but he did still enjoy himself immensely. Apparently he crawled into his Nanny's lap and wanted to pray for her. He has also said grace quite a few times. When Nanny had to leave the table to have a rest, he desperately wanted to say grace again for dessert. We explained that we had already asked a blessing on the whole meal, but he insisted. So we bowed our heads (Poppy got a stern look when he didn't down cutlery IMMEDIATELY for prayer! LOL) and what followed wasn't a blessing on the food but a long, heartfelt prayer about Nanny resting and needing rest and needing healing etc. It caused me to tear up!
Christopher:
has taken CONSECUTIVE steps (only two at a time, but still) on more than one occasion. We will have a sprinter soon enough. He is perfecting the art of the dummy-spit but it still rarely if ever gets him anywhere. It can be difficult to stifle the laughter when he throws himself on the ground, fake cries then looks up to see if you're looking at him! He has loved having the extra people around over the holidays and crumpled a little when anyone left. I think he has similar social tendencies to his sister. His special delight is trying on the hats that I bought Billy for Christmas. The pirate hat looks best, but the knight's helmet, the fireman's helmet and the racing bike driver's helmet also look smashing!
The New Baby:
is just fine. My ankles have swollen up to elephantine size over the last few days though so I am on strict instructions to rest with my feet UP. This is not easy to do as I have a million and one things I want to do and other than feeling a little tired, I feel just great. I need some more tests (a 24 hour urine collection which should be fun - not!) to rule out pre-eclampsia, which could end up with me not only birthing in hospital but having a few days on bed rest (possibly in hospital) or being induced which I really don't fancy! I am not too worried at this stage as I believe the protein in my urine is simply a UTI which I usually have when pregnant (antibiotics don't seem to shake it for more than a week or so) and slightly dodgy kidneys. The unusual swelling I put down to the hot weather and Christmas with 3 kids under 4 and a half. It is best to check these things out though and I am again asking for your prayers. Bub is perfectly happy though and settled ready for exit. I am getting plenty of movement, even though there isn't as much room in there (my mother-in-love played the jungle drums on my belly last night!). I tickle the feet of my little one through the side of my belly, I compulsively check the contents of my birth bag just to look at the tiny nappies and clothes (not too tiny - I'm yet to have a REALLY tiny baby!) and day dream about those precious newborn noises, the smell, the warm weight, feeding a little one again, those precious night-time hours when the house is asleep and all you can hear is the tiny gunk-gunk-gunk of the baby swallowing through a sleepy haze.
The house:
still has the remnants of Christmas strewn about and the kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it. Resting with my feet up means there isn't a whole lot I can do about this! I think this is the most frustrating part, being unable to get into the nesting and organising. Before the resting though, I almost finished re-arranging the lounge room so at least as I lay back in my recliner the view ISN'T of boxes and junk..
The Garden:
got a bit of weeding thanks to my MIL and my great-grandmother. I was getting them to help me identify some of the flowers that had sprung up and one thing led to another - we didn't over do it but it has made a huge difference. We found sweet williams, pinks, dianthus, and a hot pink rose.
Exercise:
has been curtailed by the swelling and needing to keep my feet up unfortunately. I had hoped to keep mobile up until delivery but the best laid plans....
Jess
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Special Delivery
I've been wondering why I was not more stressed about the possibility of having to go to the hospital to have this baby. At the birth centre I am in a homey atmosphere (I've been there so often it feels like home!) with only my husband and my midwives who "get it" when I pray or quote scripture during labour, in fact they will join me in doing so. It is quiet and the focus is on just me. No worry that my midwife will finish her shift and need to go home (Anna will stay with me for as long as I need her) no stress that I will have to move to a different room so another woman can have her baby, no pressure to have my husband scooted out to "let us rest". When labour is done I snuggle into a big queen size bed with my newborn and husband or eat a big bowl of home made soup while I call family and friends to let them know the news. The hospital just doesn't measure up!
But I have peace about where ever I give birth.
Why?
Well, many years ago there was a young woman. She probably didn't anticipate giving birth in a stable. She probably didn't reckon on spending the last few days of her pregnancy on the back of a donkey. She probably wondered at the time WHY it was all happening as it was. But through those circumstances, prophecies were fulfilled and a mighty image of a Saviour who Humbled Himself was branded across the pages of history. And our Gracious God did not forget her. Shepherds came. Stories of angels singing the news of HIS birth, her son.
"....Mary kept all these things, and pondered [them] in her heart." Luke 2:19
IF I had needed to go to the hospital, well, perhaps a word from me would have touched the heart of a midwife or nurse and turn her thoughts to God, perhaps God would have used me or my baby in some extraordinary way. But I know that whatever happens, God will give me things to keep and ponder in my heart. As I entrust to him the lives of myself and my child - I know He is in control. Whatever, wherever, whenever.
Merry Christmas to you as you ponder the Special Delivery sent to us so many years ago, and the blessed hope we have because of it.
But I have peace about where ever I give birth.
Why?
Well, many years ago there was a young woman. She probably didn't anticipate giving birth in a stable. She probably didn't reckon on spending the last few days of her pregnancy on the back of a donkey. She probably wondered at the time WHY it was all happening as it was. But through those circumstances, prophecies were fulfilled and a mighty image of a Saviour who Humbled Himself was branded across the pages of history. And our Gracious God did not forget her. Shepherds came. Stories of angels singing the news of HIS birth, her son.
"....Mary kept all these things, and pondered [them] in her heart." Luke 2:19
IF I had needed to go to the hospital, well, perhaps a word from me would have touched the heart of a midwife or nurse and turn her thoughts to God, perhaps God would have used me or my baby in some extraordinary way. But I know that whatever happens, God will give me things to keep and ponder in my heart. As I entrust to him the lives of myself and my child - I know He is in control. Whatever, wherever, whenever.
Merry Christmas to you as you ponder the Special Delivery sent to us so many years ago, and the blessed hope we have because of it.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Update
Do you know what happens when a woman who is 37 weeks pregnant goes into town for a check up? She and her husband find a million and one "I'll just..." jobs to do in the heat and the Christmas crowds. Do you know what happens when she decides to wait in the car as the hardware shop because her back is killing her and her ankles have swollen to the size of watermelons? The oldest will decide she DESPERATELY needs the loo. Do you know what happens then? The woman with the sore back, legs, EVERYTHING hauls herself and the children out of the car and LOCKS THE KEYS IN THE CAR. The children enjoyed a nutritious tea of KFC at about 9, or was it 10pm? Ahhh well, at least it was a hardware shop I locked the keys in the car in front of, it made it much easier to break in when we could just nip in and purchase the needed hardware to do it!
Erin:
considers herself a super hero because it was SHE who was passed through the window to unlock the car. We went to a community Christmas Celebration on Sunday and she has her face painted like a sun, jumped on the jumping castle and had a fantastic time.
Billy:
enjoyed an afternoon with Daddy on his own today while the other two came with me to the birth centre and hospital. I am told he was very good and he loved every minute! He got painted up as a tiger on Sunday and joined in the games with complete strangers! We almost needed a crow bar to pry him away from the jumping castle.
Christopher:
coped exceptionally well with being stuck in a pram most of the day today and smiled charmingly at everyone he met. He has taken two or three individual steps, we may have a sprinter by New Years.
New Bub:
will be born at the Birth Centre according to all forecasts. I don't even need an iron infusion! I had a lovely OB at the hospital check things out and add his expert opinion. He looked about 70 years old and was as sharp as a tack. His expert opinion was everything will be fine if I stick with the Iron supplements. He gave a few other suggestions and recommended a couple of tests (I had major protein in my urine, but this is not unusual for me) but was altogether positive and confident. When you get such a positive review from a fellow who may well have delivered babies who are now grandparents, it gives you a boost! So all systems are go.
Home:
there is a slice of paradise in my bathroom and it is called a SHOWER! It is fully functioning and it is the most wonderful sensory experience there is! All the more special because Beloved built it. It is still a bit difficult to adjust the temperature, but that is because of the hot water system. It looks like something out of a show room with black marbled tiles, white base, chrome coloured tap ware and glass screens. We have also started re-arranging the lounge room and the visual relief is fantastic. Sarah-the-saint cleaned the oven this week in preparation for the Christmas turkey. She earned her money this week!
The Garden:
has produced a strawberry. It was carefully picked and kept in the fridge to show Daddy. Then it was carefully cut into thirds to be shared between Erin, Billy and Daddy. Never has a strawberry been more thoroughly enjoyed!
Exercise:
I have actually got on the bike a few times in the past week! I have gone for walks too. I feel much better for it of course. I am also brown as a berry because of the sun outside.
Jess
Erin:
considers herself a super hero because it was SHE who was passed through the window to unlock the car. We went to a community Christmas Celebration on Sunday and she has her face painted like a sun, jumped on the jumping castle and had a fantastic time.
Billy:
enjoyed an afternoon with Daddy on his own today while the other two came with me to the birth centre and hospital. I am told he was very good and he loved every minute! He got painted up as a tiger on Sunday and joined in the games with complete strangers! We almost needed a crow bar to pry him away from the jumping castle.
Christopher:
coped exceptionally well with being stuck in a pram most of the day today and smiled charmingly at everyone he met. He has taken two or three individual steps, we may have a sprinter by New Years.
New Bub:
will be born at the Birth Centre according to all forecasts. I don't even need an iron infusion! I had a lovely OB at the hospital check things out and add his expert opinion. He looked about 70 years old and was as sharp as a tack. His expert opinion was everything will be fine if I stick with the Iron supplements. He gave a few other suggestions and recommended a couple of tests (I had major protein in my urine, but this is not unusual for me) but was altogether positive and confident. When you get such a positive review from a fellow who may well have delivered babies who are now grandparents, it gives you a boost! So all systems are go.
Home:
there is a slice of paradise in my bathroom and it is called a SHOWER! It is fully functioning and it is the most wonderful sensory experience there is! All the more special because Beloved built it. It is still a bit difficult to adjust the temperature, but that is because of the hot water system. It looks like something out of a show room with black marbled tiles, white base, chrome coloured tap ware and glass screens. We have also started re-arranging the lounge room and the visual relief is fantastic. Sarah-the-saint cleaned the oven this week in preparation for the Christmas turkey. She earned her money this week!
The Garden:
has produced a strawberry. It was carefully picked and kept in the fridge to show Daddy. Then it was carefully cut into thirds to be shared between Erin, Billy and Daddy. Never has a strawberry been more thoroughly enjoyed!
Exercise:
I have actually got on the bike a few times in the past week! I have gone for walks too. I feel much better for it of course. I am also brown as a berry because of the sun outside.
Jess
It was one of those moments you want to grab and keep forever. Nothing terrably outstanding happening, we were just sitting eating lunch. But I looked at each of my children in turn trying to soak in every detail of them. I was looking at Billy with his blond hair standing on end, the dark lashes and blue t-shirt making his eyes look like bottomless pools of twinkling mischief. I said to him "Do you KNOW that I love you?" He rubbed a crumby, jammy hand through his blond spikes and grinned at me before declairing
"I'm pretty cute too!!"
And modest.....
The same little boy a few weeks ago was wearing his favourite t-shirt, the red one with the crocodile whose mouth is a flap of material you can open and close. He came to me looking suspiciously damp.
"Have you got wet pants Billy?"
"Noooooooo"
"Are you sure? Come here and let me check. Your pants ARE wet Billy"
"No they aren't"
"Um excuse me, don't argue with your mother. You have done wee in your pants"
"No, the crocodile did it."
How do you answer that?
"I'm pretty cute too!!"
And modest.....
The same little boy a few weeks ago was wearing his favourite t-shirt, the red one with the crocodile whose mouth is a flap of material you can open and close. He came to me looking suspiciously damp.
"Have you got wet pants Billy?"
"Noooooooo"
"Are you sure? Come here and let me check. Your pants ARE wet Billy"
"No they aren't"
"Um excuse me, don't argue with your mother. You have done wee in your pants"
"No, the crocodile did it."
How do you answer that?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thought for today....
Perseverance is the hard work you do
after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.
after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.
Newt Gingrich
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Good, Better, Best
I read an excellent blog post on "Combatting the 'you should get out of the house more' mentality" and it made me think. You see, I don't have my drivers license. There have been a few reasons why this is so, but mostly, it just hasn't been priority. For years I have and friends and relatives tell me I should get my license. Some have even gone so far as to BERATE me for not having it.
"What if one of the kids gets hurt while Jon is at work?" well, if it is that urgent, we call our FREE ambulance service, if it isn't Jon works less than 40 minutes drive away, I am sure we will cope. I doubt I would have driven if I needed to stem arterial bleeding anyway! At the moment, if I did have a child being hauled away in an ambulance I would simply put the others in the car and drive in after them, if the police pulled me over and charged me with driving without a license, I am sure I could contest in court under compassionate grounds! I CAN drive, I just choose not too.
Another one I often get is "Don't you go INSANE alone at home with only the kids?". No, not any more than I did when I had to deal with people every day. Not everyone is like me in this respect I'm sure, but I don't see the attraction of "going out with the girls" or shopping for shopping's sake. If I need to talk to a friend, well, my two closest friends are mainlanders anyway so it is either the phone or an expensive trans-strait plane or boat trip! We usually live in isolated areas without access to public transport so it hasn't been unusual for me to go a weeks, even a month, without "getting out of the house". This suits me! To tell the truth, now that we live within walking distance of a post office, supermarket and playgroup I sometimes get the urge to just get away from it all!
If I did have my license, it would be very tempting to fill up the week. Do some cleaning for the church, go to the library regularly, take the kids through to the next town to a music class, take over the supermarket shopping, take the kids to visit an old folks home, go through to Launceston or Devonport once a month for museum, art gallery or science centre trips. All of these are very good and worthwhile things! But I need to ask, what would we be giving up to do them? The freedom my children have to spend time just exploring would be curtailed by being shoved in the car every second day. I would have to forget about any 'down time' for myself, keeping the house in managable order and everyone ticking along happily is a full time job now, if I take on more I will have to juggle things even harder. Perhaps it will be different in a different season of life when I can rely on the younger members of the household to do some of the major chores, but right now HOME needs to be our priority.
So I may get my license sometime soon. It would be handy to be able to go in to doctor's appointments etc. without Beloved having to take the afternoon off work. But right now? It isn't priority. HOME is priority for me. It is a matter of choosing between the good, the better and the best. Doing all those activities would be good, doing just a few would be better, staying home (at the moment) is best for us.
"What if one of the kids gets hurt while Jon is at work?" well, if it is that urgent, we call our FREE ambulance service, if it isn't Jon works less than 40 minutes drive away, I am sure we will cope. I doubt I would have driven if I needed to stem arterial bleeding anyway! At the moment, if I did have a child being hauled away in an ambulance I would simply put the others in the car and drive in after them, if the police pulled me over and charged me with driving without a license, I am sure I could contest in court under compassionate grounds! I CAN drive, I just choose not too.
Another one I often get is "Don't you go INSANE alone at home with only the kids?". No, not any more than I did when I had to deal with people every day. Not everyone is like me in this respect I'm sure, but I don't see the attraction of "going out with the girls" or shopping for shopping's sake. If I need to talk to a friend, well, my two closest friends are mainlanders anyway so it is either the phone or an expensive trans-strait plane or boat trip! We usually live in isolated areas without access to public transport so it hasn't been unusual for me to go a weeks, even a month, without "getting out of the house". This suits me! To tell the truth, now that we live within walking distance of a post office, supermarket and playgroup I sometimes get the urge to just get away from it all!
If I did have my license, it would be very tempting to fill up the week. Do some cleaning for the church, go to the library regularly, take the kids through to the next town to a music class, take over the supermarket shopping, take the kids to visit an old folks home, go through to Launceston or Devonport once a month for museum, art gallery or science centre trips. All of these are very good and worthwhile things! But I need to ask, what would we be giving up to do them? The freedom my children have to spend time just exploring would be curtailed by being shoved in the car every second day. I would have to forget about any 'down time' for myself, keeping the house in managable order and everyone ticking along happily is a full time job now, if I take on more I will have to juggle things even harder. Perhaps it will be different in a different season of life when I can rely on the younger members of the household to do some of the major chores, but right now HOME needs to be our priority.
So I may get my license sometime soon. It would be handy to be able to go in to doctor's appointments etc. without Beloved having to take the afternoon off work. But right now? It isn't priority. HOME is priority for me. It is a matter of choosing between the good, the better and the best. Doing all those activities would be good, doing just a few would be better, staying home (at the moment) is best for us.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Gypsy soup - a lovely story
Gypsy Soup
Perhaps you have heard of the famous old legend called Stone Soup. Different countries have published various versions of the story, but the essence of the old legend remains the same. Here’s my version.
Once upon a time there was a small village where the people met every Sunday night around the courtyard fire-pit. All the ladies chatted about the latest birth or a certain young lady’s marriage prospects, each having dropped into the huge kettle of bubbling soup their offering of meat, vegetable, grain, or herb. The deep-throated laughter of the men telling the same old jokes mingled with the squeals coming from the playing children, all blending into a joyful clatter rolling down the valley. Generations came and went, each enjoying the glory of the setting sun, but most of all, the fragrant aroma of the cooking soup and the pleasure of time spent with good friends.
Then, one long, hot summer no rain fell in their region. Most of the corn dried before it eared; the hens seldom laid an egg; and no one had any extra vegetables to sell in order to buy the necessities. People looked concerned as they worried over how they would make it through the winter.
The first foreboding sign of awful things yet to come occurred one Sunday afternoon in early winter just as the first snow flakes began to fall. As the people gathered, making their contribution to the community soup, someone whispered that two of the ladies dropped nothing into the kettle, yet both families ate with relish, even coming back for seconds. The next week only a few women brought of their meager supply to drop into the huge kettle. The soup was watery and without flavor. Not even the salt and thyme bearer brought her portion. Yet, everyone ate heartily…everyone…even those who had brought nothing for the pot. The third week, the fire builder didn’t bring his wood, and the water drawer didn’t fill the kettle, and the last of the givers stayed home to peer from their windows at the odious takers. The people of the village spent the long cold winter hidden behind their doors, suspicious of their neighbors. It was a miserable hungry winter for all.
One chilly spring Sunday afternoon, a child looked out the window and exclaimed, “Mama, old widow Martha is out building a fire under the courtyard kettle. What could she have to put into the pot?” The boy’s mother looked out in wonder. Soon, several children came out to the courtyard to watch. They felt compelled to help the skinny old lady draw water from the well and pour it into the huge kettle that sat over the now briskly-burning fire. By then, the whole village stood at their slightly open doors peeking out to see what she had to put into the pot. After all, she was the poorest of them all, having no children and being widowed these many years.
When the water began to boil, the old lady reached into the deep recesses of her big caroche bag and felt around. The hungry children watched in wonder and excitement. She grinned as she pulled out a handful of bright yellow flowers. “See what I found just breaking through the soil on the south bank? Dandelion flowers. Aren’t they pretty? They are good for you, and taste so fine.” Again she reached into her bag, her face momentarily frowning, “Ouch! Stinging Nettle’s sting, but they taste good and are very nutritious. They come out early in the spring, too. I’ll add them to the soup.”
“Widow Martha, them’s weeds! People can’t eat weeds. Is you cookin’ weeds?” asked the little hollow face staring up at her.
The old lady removed her glasses and began wiping them clean on the hem of her thread-worn skirt. She hesitated only a few seconds, then replied with great enthusiasm, “Yes, both are weeds. I am making Gypsy Soup which is made of many unusual things, including weeds.”
Why?” asked the group of children in one voice.
Martha carefully set her glasses back on her nose as she studied the waiting children. When she answered them, her old voice revealed a deep longing, and, yes, even hope. “Once, many years ago in the old country where I was born there was a great famine. It was then that my dear mother taught me to make Gypsy Soup, and it was delicious. So I decided it was time to teach you.”
She felt a hard tug on her dress and looked down into the freckled face of a small red-headed child. The child whispered, “Was yer mam a real Gypsy?”
The old face wrinkled up into a thousand smiling lines. “No, she was only a simple woman like I am, but she learned how to make the weed soup from a real Gypsy.”
A mocking voice of one of the older boys called out, “Weeds don’t sound delicious to me.”
Martha studied the rebellious-looking teen for a moment, recalling that it was this boy’s parents who were the first to withdraw their portion in the winter. The old woman knew his family had more than most. She asked, “Oh, it would sure taste better with a few corn cobs in it, but I doubt you would have any corn cobs to spare.” The boy’s face now showed total mockery, “We ain’t sharing our corn, but we have cobs lying around everywhere. I would like to see you eat one; you ain’t even got no teeth.” The boy ran to the barn to get the cobs.
The old lady beamed with great pleasure, then looked down at the skinny little girl who pressed closest to her, “Child, I know your mother keeps a few hens. Is there any possibility she has any egg shells that might go into the pot?” The little girl giggled at the old women’s strange request, then turned and ran home to return with a basketful of egg shells.
The corn cobs and egg shells were gently stirred into the Weed soup. “I got a bone my daddy gave me for my dog,” whispered a little boy as he held the bone up for the old lady to consider.
Old Martha’s eyes glistened, “Good, that’s very good. Could you break it into pieces with that big rock?” The boy did as he was asked, then held the pieces in his hand looking at her for direction. She nodded for him to add the pieces to the pot. The water simmered through the afternoon and past the setting sun, giving off a delicious aroma. What looked like cooking garbage to the kids, the old lady knew to be a vitamin and mineral-packed broth.
When another child came with a handful of wild onions, garlic, plantain leaves, and wild carrot tops, the old lady carefully strained the cobs and egg shells out of the broth and set them aside before adding her newest addition to the kettle. “Oh, those onions will really taste good. Thank you, child.” Another child scampered off, returning with one old turnip and a few other withered leaves from a cabbage. Yet another child brought a handful of potato peelings. The village idiot joined the group, bringing a handful of dried alfalfa gleaned from hay that the milk cows were fed. The children’s faces registered alarm at the sight of hay being stirred into the kettle, but old Martha smiled with thanksgiving at the poor man. Alfalfa’s nutritional value would add much to the broth. Wisdom, like nutrition, was found in the most unexpected places. Lastly, a child came forth with several sprigs of dried thyme and rosemary gleamed from her mother’s weathered winter garden.
Martha’s soup was now almost complete. Smiling contently, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small chip of animal salt/mineral block and dropped it into the pot of soup. Then the old lady bent down to add the last small stick to the dying fire.
Hidden behind a half-shut door, a man grimaced as he saw the old lady’s look of concern at the lack of more wood for her fire. Earlier in the day in the forest, he had stood as still as death behind a tree, hoping she would not see him and thereby obliging him to help her drag the heavy tree limb back to the village. Now he saw the firelight dancing on the laughing faces of his own children. How long had it been since he had seen joy in their countenance? Behind other doors, the same shame grabbed at the hearts of the guilty.
The old widow knew nothing of their self-reproach, only of the joy she felt in her heart as she warmed herself by the dying fire while listening to the broth bubble and pop. Like the days of old, the sound of children’s squeals rang out through the deepening shadows of the night. She sighed deeply. Almost…almost it was like it was before…before the drought, before fear and selfishness had stolen the joy and camaraderie of the people. Nothing had changed. Her cupboards, like almost everyone else’s, were still bare. All she had to offer was a fire, some water and some weeds. But it was enough.
Just as the first star’s light began to shine on the village, old Martha’s long spoon dipped deeply into the pot, releasing the unmistakable aroma of a delicious soup. The youngsters suddenly stopped their play to sniff the air. Moans of sheer pleasure could be heard as they gathered around waiting.
Her old voice called out the invitation, “Who would like a bowl of Gypsy Soup?”
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