Jesus Van Gogh

I've been sitting in the "Bucket" a lot lately (see http://quirkyisokay.blogspot.com/2010/09/fart-in-bucket.html for further explanation) and I have to admit that it's quite nice to be out there alone, in the dark, staring up at the moon and the stars. It gives me that quiet time that busy mothers crave and sets the cogs in my brain turning. I think God really is clever. I also think he's a bit arty farty. That old hymn with the words: "Hands that flung stars into space..." rolls around in my head. It all sounds so easy for Him, a bit like a child scattering a some glitter onto a collage. Child's play. The hymn goes on to mention how those same powerful hands succommed to having nails driven through them, which sets me thinking on a whole other tangent. But for now I'll focus on how clever God is to put all those planets and stars in the right place and the skill it must have involved to get everything just right on each of their surfaces.  Looking up at the moon on a clear night (in otherwords, when it's not raining and I'm not sitting in the "bucket" holding a sheet of polystyrene over my head - which wasn't too bright because Beloved found the evidence of little beads of polystyrene in the water, threatening to block the filters)...looking up at the moon, I can sometimes see that crooked face that started the legend of the moon being its own person. God's being a bit frivolous with his sense of humour there I think. It looks like a cartoon.

Wow. It's all so big! All those stars, the sun, the moon, the Milky Way, black holes...it starts to blow my mind a little. And what if there really ARE other civilizations out there? That's something I don't get because if there were, would they be completely perfect and without sin, or would God have to send His son to their home planets as well to live among them, die on their behalf and be resurrected so that they can also commune with Him? That's a huge question that makes my head explode so I try not to dwell on that one too much. If it is true, I bet Jesus might be starting to get a bit fed up with it all and wondering exactly how many times He has to keep doing this:

That is, unless the other planets have been a little more welcoming than ours was:

 It does make me think that whatever is going on "out there" must make God really busy! And then I go and iterrupt Him with my silly ramblings about what's going on in my tiny little life.

But wait! God is infinite, omnipresent, omnipotent and a lot of other powerful omni-stuff! The hands that flung stars into space formed me in secret when I was just a twinkle in my mother's eye. He made this:

(I'm not really sure what a pituitary gland actually does but I've heard it's something very, very important even though it's very, very tiny)

And he made this:

That's a strand of human hair and evidently God has counted each and every one of them on each and every one of our heads (I don't suppose mine looks quite like this one any more though because I've turned it to cotton wool with all the chemicals I've slapped on there).

I think God is very clever and very very artistic...and I don't think He's too busy for little me at all :)

Got beef with God?

There's been a lot of talk about natural disasters here in New Zealand and we've all been checking our emergency survival kits and water supplies. My daughter is in Christchurch and I don't appreciate that Mother Nature is still rattling my baby with her aftershocks. I really should get CYFs onto it because these days everyone should know that you should never, ever shake a baby - especially mine.

When it first happened our country was amazed that there were no fatalities. If the 7.1 upheaval had occurred just a few hours later, New Zealand would have been a nation in grief.  Although it later transpired that a woman had suffered a fatal heart attack during the initial quake, the fact that the loss of life is so minimal is phenomenal. Miraculous even.  I don't know about all the other mums and dads out there who were relieved that they still had their children to post presents to at Christmas time, but I got on my knees and gave a big thumbs up to my Majestic Bestie.

Not everyone shared my gratitude. It wasn't long before comments began to appear on public internet pages, pointing the finger at God Himself.  Apparantly He was solely responsible for bringing about the destruction to one of our biggest cities, causing countless families to be homeless and penniless. He also caused starvation in India and the war in the Middle East.  Folk were pretty ticked off about it too and wanted to let the good Lord and all His believers know it. Some God of love He turned out to be.

Good for them I say! God's made a few comments in His memoirs about wanting people to be either hot or cold towards Him. He's a passionate Guy and doesn't go for any of this wishy-washy, tepid, new-agey stuff. He'd rather watch a dog eat its own vomit than have people pussy-foot around His feelings.

I've been mad with God before. I've been mad with my Beloved and my kids and even my dog. I have a real relationship with all these characters which is probably why it's such a roller coaster ride sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve, which means they know when I'm happy, scared, sad...the dog is slightly more aware than Beloved but he's getting there.

I reckon it's okay to let the ones who love you know how you're feeling. There's no point trying to hide it. So be angry with God if you need to be. To be honest, I have no idea why God "allows suffering" but one thing I do know is that He's neither delicate nor fragile so He can handle your anger.  Shake your fists at him, stamp your feet and have a tantie if you must, just be sure that you COMMUNICATE with Him.

But like any great relationship, just don't stay mad - He doesn't.

Shaken but not stirred

It’s been quite a week in this little country of ours. Firstly there were dramas on the home front. I can’t give too much away when other people could be at risk but let’s just say I’m going to have to retouch those grey roots on my Beloved’s head, and quite possibly my own.

Another thing that did set us off onto a bit of a tizz was an e-mail from our social worker explaining that “whanau” (meaning family) had come forward and will “care for the boys”. We’ve had our fosties with us for a year and the thought of sending them back into circumstances that had generated so much hurt in their lives was enough to rip my nighty. We got some prayer warriors onto immediate sentry duty while a few phone calls and e-mails were made. There were some who even prayed without even knowing exactly what they were praying for. Isn’t it cool when people are prepared to do that? And even more impressive considering that whole nail gun thing a couple of weeks ago.  I’m pleased to report that we’ve since heard that the situation has been downgraded to allowing their birth mother to have supervised access with the boys on a fortnightly basis. Watch this space...

Having settled our nerves after a worrisome week, we were able to cosy up for a peaceful night’s sleep. That plan worked well until I was woken by a text message at 5:15am yesterda: “Hiya, how r u? We had an earthquake and aftershocks”. When you’re half asleep a message like that doesn’t quite register so I snuggled back under the covers and closed my eyes while my brain attempted to unscramble what was happening as the worlds of slumber and reality collided.  Umm..better just check that again.  It was a message from my 22 y/o daughter in Christchurch who had been woken by the earth shaking when her drawers collapsed and smashed her TV. I woke up real quick!  When we spoke to her she sounded dazed - even more so than usual - the ground was still splitting around her but she was safe. 

I think God had a whole lot of ear bending sent His way yesterday. Not just from me this time, but from an entire nation. This quake was big and I’m delighted to say that He was paying attention. Mother Nature had let her kids out of control and South Canterbury was getting stomped all over. Yet not one person was killed. Only two serious injuries were reported and those guys seem to be pulling through. The structural damage has been phenomenal and my baby is now living in a disaster zone. It could have been the darkest day in New Zealand’s history but for today I’ll rejoice that my baby is alive and well and has enough bottled water to see her through for the next few days. Speaking of which, I’ve just refilled my own 24 litres with fresh water and a teensy bit of bleach - just in case.

It seems to me that somewhere along the line, shattering experiences can bring out the best in a few people. Like this guy who opened his corner shop really early so that he could give away supplies to needy people: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/christchurch-earthquake/news/article.cfm?c_id=1502981&objectid=10671208&ref=facebookheadlines

Anyway, today I’m giving a big thumbs up to my Majestic Bestie for keeping our loved ones safe, both locally and at the other end of our special little country. And also to John Key, our Prime Minister, who was on a flight to Christchurch the same day to walk around the city and see what needs to be done...and to our engineer friend who flew down yesterday to work voluntarily help assess the damage...”Shot Guys!”

Just checking...

Hmmm....lots of hits here and no comments. How do I know if I'm theologically on track????

Although I go to a Baptist church I feel the need to do a slightly Catholic thing and make "Confession". A man fell asleep behind me in the back row this morning and I giggled when I heard him snoring.

I know I should have been paying more attention to what was going on at the front but I allowed myself to be distracted and am forced to admit that I was jealous that he was asleep and I wasn't. I also ate two Tic Tacs and read through my text messages. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned..."

I'll show you mine if you show me yours

This week I opened a magazine and spotted an interesting competition. Take a picture of a scar, explain how you got it and be in for a thousand bucks if your story is the most interesting. Sounds like fun. I considered it briefly before deciding that none of my scars are in any fit position for public photography. But it got me thinking…by and large people are always keen to talk about medical mishaps, dental issues and scars. Personally, I don’t especially gain any pleasure from hearing all the ins and outs on the removal of ingrown toenails or root canals but I must admit that I do find disfigurement a little more intriguing. I’m not big on carbuncles oozing pus or anything too messy but when my mum’s friend had a leg operation, I found the titanic staples running up her limb horrifically breathtaking.

My friend Smiley (I’m really going to have to think of a better name for her but she really does have the most terrific smile) had one of those pacemaker thingees fitted not so long ago which was good news on two counts. Firstly because she is now keeping much better health and isn’t scaring us with her dizzy spells any more, and secondly because she has the coolest scar on her chest. Naturally she’d happily flash it around for anyone who would look and considering she has amazing cleavage, plenty of people have been willing to have a squiz at it. Not to mention that being partially bionic is really cool.

Scars are undeniably worth taking a look at and I would say that a competition in their honour is long overdue. I’m looking forward to seeing some real doozies and reading some grisly details about how they came about. I don’t think it would be fair for Jesus to enter the competition though because He would win hands down and it’s only right that He gives someone else a shot at that thousand bucks. Those scars on His hands, His feet, His head and His side have a story behind them that will outdo any kind of misadventure or surgery that I can think of. It even beats the time I tried to express my cat’s bladder after she’d had an accident. There was a lot of blood that day – mine.

It seems to me that Jesus is holding His hands out for anyone who wants to take a look. He held them out when His disciple Thomas doubted that He was back in the land of the living. He’s been inviting us to come in for a closer look and to listen to His story ever since. And He's very interested in taking a look at the scars we might be carrying, including the ones on our hearts. Any nasty infections, any hurts, He's willing to take them from us and add them to His own.  All He's asking from us is that we come, look at His hands and listen to His story.  How can I resist!

Incidentally, there’s nothing wrong with my cat’s bladder now. As I sit here with my daughter’s dinky e-book I can smell something very funky nearby. There is definitely a puddle on the carpet in the proximity of where I’m sitting but I’m not sure where…

Dear God...

Please let our lap top get fixed soon so that I can lie in bed and write my next inspirational blog on something a little more comfortable than my daughter's piddly e-book (for which I am eternally grateful). I know that it would be a character-building test of faith to sit at the kids' computer in the cold room downstairs but I'm pretty certain that the alternative arrangement of "prostrating" myself before you, albeit in a comfortable bed, is so much more spiritually satisfying for all concerned. This also ensures fewer typing errors (You remember what happened when I was e-mailing my former mother-in-law about her son's night shifts when the "f" got accidentally ommitted from "shift").

Please and thank you very much
Amen

PS while you're at it, could my 6 year old please stop trying to sing Justin Bieber songs in Pidgeon-Maori? I didn't even know that language existed and I'm really over "Baby"

Thank you again
Amen

Two plus two equals....FIVE???

I was delighted when I heard that my former mother-in-law had been hospitalized with septicaemia! Don’t get me wrong, I adore my F-M-I-L (does being “former” make her my mother-out-law?) and we get along famously. The thing is, that when one of my young’uns initially received the news over the phone, she had misheard and thought that Grandma had Leukaemia. Of course I blame technology - crackly Telecom phone lines and all that. Believing that my favourite M-I-L had just been handed down a death sentence, I contacted the church Prayer Chain co-ordinator right away - who just happens to be my own mum. Then I sent a few urgent e-mails to others on the chain with the prayer request. Within moments a dozen prayer stalwarts were wearing out their carpets with their knees.

Once my Beloved had given me a few soothing hugs, he came up with an impressive plan: Let’s call F-I-L and find out more from the horse’s mouth. That’s when the prognosis was downgraded from terminal to pretty-bad-but-will-get-better. M-I-L was indeed sick, but she was doing well under the circumstances and on the road to recovery.  So it was with relief, and possibly a little awkwardness, that I sent word that things weren’t quite as dire as they had originally seemed.

You’d think I would have learned to check details before sounding alarm bells but I did it again tonight.  A highly reputable acquaintance of mine had received a shocking prayer request about a toddler who’d been injured with a nail gun.  I said it before and I’ll say it again: I blame technology. It was a darn internet hoax! Naturally I didn’t find that bit out until all the troops were worried sick and on full prayer duty.  Swallowing embarrassment, I headed my next e-mail: “That was a quick answer” and with a side serving of humble pie, took back what I’d originally asked for. There was no kid with a nail embedded in his heart.  Come to think of it, I really should have twigged earlier. How would a 22 month old get hold of a nail gun in the first place? Yeesh, colour me green behind the ears.

After I hit “send” a thought came to me. Why be embarrassed? It might have been a mistake but when it seemed that something dreadful had happened, the first notion in my head was to tell God all about it, and I wanted my friends to talk to Him about it too. I’m not embarrassed about that at all.  In fact, I don’t think it’s ever a mistake to have a natter with my Majestic Bestie no matter what it’s about, so that’s what I’ll keep doing.

Meanwhile, M is competing in the inter-school Mathex competition tomorrow. Would it be wrong to ask God if our humble low-decile school could please grind the posh decile-ten school competitors into the dirt?  I might just have a chat to Him about that but just to be on the safe side, I don’t think I’ll feed it to the Prayer Chain this time.