Anzac Day 2017

Anzac

Anzac day is when you honour those who actually served their country. The men and women who march, do so knowing that not everyone made it back, and many more cannot march. Wounds, both physical and emotional, sideline many. Some are confined to home, and too many are just lost.

Why would anyone march for Anzac Day when they did not serve? How could they?

The other night a news story reported how recently, several sets of medals had been stolen. Unfortunately, there are people who take the medals for their monetary value but also so that they can pass themselves off as a veteran. No-one should be marching with stolen medals. No-one should march who did not serve. Sometimes family members march in memory of someone. They wear the medals on the other side so that people know. For those who march to honour their family members, I hope your family members knew of your support when they were alive.

People clap for the parades. The presence of people who like the attention, and march without any right to do so, is completely disrespectful. You honour your family, not by marching and pretending you were there or that you care, but by spending time with them. You honour them by attending their parades and clapping for THEM. Not only did they give you life by giving birth to you or your parent, they protected that life and insured your life would have the freedoms that you do. But most importantly, you honour your family member by how you treat them in between the parades and services. They are not just “ornaments” in our life that we take off the shelf of our lives once a year, to dress them up, send them out, and clap.

Anzac Day begins at home. Do you know where your family’s veteran is? How he/she is doing? Have you ever talked to him/her about their service? Have you ever thanked them personally? Have you ever gone with them to a service or a parade? Have you ever met some of their fellow soldiers and listened to their stories? Do you know anything about your veteran?

Anzac Day requires more from us than just clapping on the side of a street. These people don’t need applause as much as they need human contact to reassure them, to help heal them, to encourage them. It is not someone else’s job. It is yours . . . and it is mine.

This Is How Love Wins.

door

The Easter message is that we can be forgiven.  It is that we can change.  We can take our lives, and all the mistakes, and all our troubles, and choose a different path.  We can walk a path that is blessed with the wisdom of the lessons learned, and a better knowing of who we are.

This is how we heal the world.  Forgiveness is not just for us, it is not just a gift given by a man who died on the cross . . .  it is a gift we must extend to others.  Our forgiveness.  We must learn to say, “I forgive you” and to make a space in our lives for people to choose a different path.  We need to support their struggles to learn and grow.  We have to let go of our idea of who they were, and encourage their journey.

All around us are people who have lost their way, who would give anything to have a second chance, to start over with a different ending.   People suffer their losses of loved ones, of jobs, of self and they suffer alone, often further burdened by the judgments of the people who surround them.  We label people with their mistakes.  There goes the “drug addict,” the “drunk,” the “thief,” the “loser.”  She had a baby before she was married.  His wife left him.  He got fired.  Years pass, and still, we hold onto those labels, imprisoning people in their mistakes.

Had their mistakes not been made public, they would be safe and secure with everyone else, judging those whose sins are pinned to them in bright scarlet for all to see. Continue reading

Grace

grace

Sometimes I wander in that place where I feel completely and totally alone.  My pain is like a cancer that is eating me whole.  I cannot find the words to ask for help.  The smiling happy faces of those who praise Jesus for answering their prayers and helping them to win the head cheerleader position is salt in my open wounds.  I am not lifted or encouraged by their sharing.  Instead, I consider that I am that unworthy that my pain is not as important as someone else’s cheerleading.

I cry so hard sometimes I am afraid I will never be able to stop and when I do stop … exhausted and gulping for air in staccatoed gasps I am still alone and the silence is like a roar that never ends.  Does anyone love me?

I know these are my demons, gifts from a childhood where I was delivered into the hands of people who at best never wanted me and at worst … well, I leave those stories untold… Continue reading

WORD'S WORTH“When we say things like “People don’t change,”  it drives scientists crazy.  Because change is literally the only constant in all of science.  Energy, matter, it’s always changing . . . Morphing, merging, growing, dying, it’s the way people try not to change that’s unnatural.  The way we cling to what things were instead of letting them be what they are.  The way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones.  The way we insist on believing, despite every scientific indication, that anything in this lifetime is permanent.  Change is constant.  How we experience change, that’s up to us.  It can feel like death, or it can feel like a second chance at life.  If we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline.  Like at any moment, we can have another chance at life.  Like at any moment, we can be born all over again.”  Grey’s Anatomy

Without Eyebrows We Could Die.

books of mass destruction

My brother read in an encyclopedia that our eyebrows are important because they, along with our eyelashes, help to keep dirt out of our eyes. He theorized that if dirt got into our eyes, we could get an infection that could get into our brain and we could die.

Please don’t ask me to explain the mind of a 9-year-old boy.

I was the victim of the crime. He lured me into the forest to, “see the nest of baby birds” he had found, tied me up to a tree and shaved off my eyebrows. He probably would have plucked out my eyelashes but I had good teeth and managed to gnaw one of the ropes off and gave him a black eye.

BTW, I am the one that got in trouble because “a punch could have caused real damage” and my eyebrows would grow back.

Why was it common practice for people to buy entire sets of encyclopaedias for their kids and never even check them out to make sure what kind of information they contained? They could have contained porn, or the complete guide to being a serial killer and they would never have known. They just unpacked the books and proudly put them in alphabetical order in the bookcase and said,”Here kids, go get educated.” How irresponsible is that? My brother used the information contained in our set of encyclopaedias to try and kill me. I just want to know where the parental security measures were then? Passwords? Lockdowns? I wonder how many children died because we spent hours reading those things without any parental supervision? Paedophiles could have left their names and numbers to become our pen pals and how would anyone have known? Continue reading