All posts filed under: love

This is how I’m voting. And Olaf.

What more can be said? That has been my defence for saying precisely nothing about the upcoming postal plebiscite on marriage here in The Great Southland. And then I remembered Olaf. Olaf is the endearing snowman character in the Disney movie, Frozen. I know this because both my children are enchanted by the film and invariably ask me to play various YouTube clips from it daily. Often more than once. And there’s this one tune where Olaf waxes lyrical about his long-held desire to experience Summer. “A drink in my hand My snow up against the burning sand Prob’ly getting gorgeously tanned In summer!” Olaf sings this – the snowman who’s made of ice that melts and all. Seeing that charming, smiling character waltzing to his own demise made me think of Australians who are blindly accepting the yes vote because “love is love”.  No thought to repercussions that other countries are already experiencing. And then there’s the Kristoffs and Annas (you need to watch the clip!) who are withholding their voice, their information, their …

The Positives to Having 4 Teeth Extracted in the Chair.

The day arrived. The day I had dreaded for more than a decade. The day I would have all my wisdom teeth ripped from my delicate, pink gums – in the chair, no less, and without sedation. People said, “You’ll be fine!” “The recovery is quick!” and “Get it over and done with!” Some particularly good advice saw me taking earphones and a good music mix, something to drown out the sound of the jackhammer, or whatever they call those instruments of… dental remedy. I should’ve chosen heavy metal. I chose The Loft Sessions (Bethel). I felt good. Ten years and two experiences of childbirth felt like sufficient preparation. As a friend said to me, “Having problem teeth pulled has been so much less traumatic than the pain of having them remain.” Why is that? Why do we get so cosy and comfortable with pain? Why do we get so used to living with shackles, to the point where we forget what it is to be free? We hug that pain and imprisonment close because …

The Measure of a True Friend

I have acoupla thousand ‘friends’ across my different social media platforms and other connections. As a measure of my friendship support, most would say I’m in a good position, right? Perhaps you’re the same. Relatively well endowed in the ‘friend’ or ‘follower’ department. But what happens when things get tough? Most of us don’t share the reality of life on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat… we share the highlights reel. And in this virtual world, many of our friends are like those noddy dogs on the dashboard of old folks’ cars; constantly agreeing, liking what you post, commenting with little heart emoticons. We collect friends and likes as a hoarder collects things. They seem necessary. They make us feel good. But when when life gets hard, they are a poor substitute for quality. What does it mean to be a true friend? In a world afraid to say the hard things for fear of sounding judgemental, offensive or even tight-laced, I would venture to say that a true friend is one who is unafraid of speaking the …

You Forgot One Love Language, Mr Chapman!

I’d just done the groceries. I was standing at the boot unloading bags of shopping while simultaneously instructing Master Five to jump in the car, and placating Miss Two with offers of treats if she just sits tight in the trolley until I’d finished. It’s always a tricky moment that follows. Do I strap both kids into the car and make a dash to return the trolley, or do I juggle them there and back on account of the fact that it’s technically illegal to leave children alone for any length of time in a car, unsupervised? On this occasion, my dilemma was solved before I even had a chance to give it much consideration. A man walked up having just deposited his own trolley and said, “Can I return that for you?” Yes, I said, and he did, and I thanked him over and over, buckled the kids in and drove away feeling like singing. Something upbeat, you know, like from The Sound of Music. And it’s really odd, because I’ve thought of that …

My Last Keeping the Faith Column…

Word. Light. Flesh. This triptych is featured in a Bible passage that I love. Don’t zone out. Give me at least a few more paragraphs to explain. Because the five verses I’m speaking of are a masterpiece, a work of mystery and enlightenment that at once confuse me and draw me nearer to understanding God. It goes like this: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.” (John 1:1-5) Truth is, I feel an affinity with this excerpt because of my particular love affair with words. Literary expression is my fairy floss. If you told me to paint it – you would see a dense rainforest, glossy with dew; a place of quenching and wandering, deeper and deeper into …

What Does Inclusive Mean?

What does INCLUSIVE mean? Yes, I just asked you a really simple question that isn’t the least bit simple to answer. It seems we do all these well-meaning things to be a more inclusive society, but are they working? Last week there was yet another call to remove The Lord’s Prayer from Tasmanian parliament so that it’s a more “inclusive” space. It’s an interesting thought – excluding something that is meaningful to a part of the population to keep the rest happy. Exclusion to maintain inclusion? Elsewhere, we’re busy adding to the Australian cultural space to become more inclusive. Adding prayer rooms for Muslims, adding acknowledgement of the traditional owners of the land, adding the Safe Schools program to the curriculum for greater understanding of LGBTI people. We’re adding this and subtracting that, all to achieve the holy grail of inclusivity. My son has an allergy to dairy foods. Often he will go to parties and not be able to eat a lot of the food. He’s cool with it – he understands that dairy products …

The Boy Who Needs Our Prayers

The whiff of smoke gets up your nose, doesn’t it? That acrid smell of destruction has become familiar this summer to the point where it lurks right here in my home. I’ve carried it in on clothes unpegged from the clothesline and it’s been known to slink indoors as I kick off my shoes. This smoke that lingers like the grief of countless trees bowed to flames – it makes me think of the grief that has curled around Tasmanians who heard of 24-year-old Sarah Paino who died in Hobart on an early Friday morning a week and a half back, after she dropped her baker partner to work. Sarah was a mother of two. Her two-year-old son was in the back seat and her 32-week-gestation baby was delivered alive after her death. The grief has held such sting because of the injustice, the sad unfairness of a family fractured due to the choices of a 15-year-old boy who allegedly stole a car and was taking it for a joy ride when he collided with …