I am not entirely sure why this is titled Hosanna (or the Village). It just seems right. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. It is the day we remember Jesus entry into Jerusalem, where for one brief moment he was greeted and acknowledged as the King that he is. Of course within a week he was being tortured and killed, and considering he knew what was coming as he rode the streets on a donkey, you must wonder what was going through his heart.
The definition of Hosanna is something like a cry for salvation, of praise maybe?
I'd like to think that I would have been one of those who continued to praise and exalt him even after he was arrested, tried and crucified. I am not sure I would have though. Would I have recognised this humble, ordinary man for who he really was? Would I have been influenced and swayed by the religious authority. I can't say I have a love for religious institutions in general (yes I know I am married into one essentially but that's entirely different, truly), I can't say I am always influenced by the crowd but I am probably influenced considerably more than I would like. For example, I might reject a corporate view of the world and the corporate values but I might look so objectively or negatively at things that fit my worldview better. Its kind of trendy being a bit greenish. Eco-whatever is pretty big, greenwashing is in so you could argue that I am not going against the flow at all.
Tomorrow will also be "I's" dedication. We've chosen to dedicate our children rather than baptise them. Daniel's was a separate service, done so we could invite friends and family who were living further away at the time but the other three are done as part of our normal service, as part of our church community. We think it is so important that our children have a strong sense of belonging in church. We think its important because its such a big part of who hubby and I are. Church is not just a Sunday activity for us, its a vocation and a lifestyle. We want our children to belong and to feel welcomed. So in a way, baptism would make more sense as it is the tangible welcome of someone into a community. Baptism, among other things, is a sign of belonging.
But for us we want our children to make their own decision about when they want to profess their own faith. We will do our utmost to guide them in that decision but ultimately, we can't dictate what they believe. But creating a feeling of belonging and community will help their faith development. And it helps me. A friend and I were talking about the village the other day... both of us have toddlers and a baby and we were discussing the reassuring nature of our "village" community at church. Our children come to no harm there. We can say to someone, can you watch X for me while I do Y and they do. We hand over babies, toddlers, children, we play swap the baby so often other people get confused about whose baby is whose. This village atmosphere allows our family to be a part of the community in a real way. I sing in our band and I couldn't do it if I couldn't pass on my children to be cared for by someone else for a short time. I can't expect hubby to preside over communion while wrangling a few children and I think our community like that we can be involved even if it does involve a few handovers.
Also, we dedicate our children because we believe in an infinitely grace-filled and merciful God. Baptism of children came about because at some point people believed that only the baptised went to heaven. I don't believe that myself. No one can tell me that God would not receive my precious baby into his arms should it be that he cannot live here on earth any more. I am not sure I fully get what baptism might mean except that it is about a person standing up and professing their faith and belief and committing themselves to life in community with us. Our kids will do that at some point and we prayfully await that time.
Tomorrow, we play this Brooke Fraser song at church. I think we've had it for both the girls dedications as well in fact. There is one phrase that I feel really speaks prophetically to my children...
"I see a generation
Rising up to take their place
With selfless faith
With selfless faith
I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek
We're on our knees
We're on our knees
[Chorus]
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart from what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause
As I go from earth to
Eternity
My children will be rising up and standing in their faith. I believe that. Their hearts will be broken with what breaks God's heart. I believe that too. May God be with them always and may they always know the love and acceptance of their "Village".
Hosanna in the Highest.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
And then there were four...
I have so many intentions to write in this blog and suddenly its 9 months later... and 9 months is a long time really.. long enough to make a baby which is exactly what I have been doing.
Our precious boy "I" arrived in a hurry in February. Dark hair, blue eyes and very beautiful. As you can imagine life has been on the crazy side of chaotic over recent weeks so there has been even less time for anything. Except now I have a smart phone I can read the online papers, cruise the internet and post on Facebook while baby is plugged in and I am on the couch. Funny how life comes a full circle, when D was born we gave up our newspaper subscription because we just never got a chance to read the paper. And now I can thanks to a nifty app. 6.5 years ago there was no such thing as an "app".
Its never helpful to compare people or things but its funny how some things are scarily similar. Having a baby is like that. Not the births, they've all been totally unique but the aftermath. The dry as a desert mouth as baby starts to breastfeed. When I am so tired at night that I can barely sit upright anymore. The hormonal tears that erupt at the littlest things. The saggy belly, stretch marks and extra kilos. The delight at the first smile. The laughter at the poo explosions. The adorably cute clothes. All the same.
Yet having yet another child is different too. Its easier in some ways. I don't worry the same about what is happening... what to do and when. If something doesn't work, I try something else. If that doesn't work I try something else again. If that doesn't work I talk to my friends and sister and then remember something or try something new and even in all that I am not stressed at all, just going with the flow.
Baby is 6 weeks old and I remember being told that after 6 weeks everything settles down. And in some ways it has. I am making lunches, nagging the kids, making dinner, folding washing while watching television and trying to keep up with everything else with varying degrees of success. In some ways having a small baby is useful because I have a genuine reason to sit on the couch every 2-3 hours :). I have a even better reason to sneak in naps on the weekend. Sure it can be a little limiting in terms of activity and "me alone" time but I can survive that. I do miss it, the chance to pop out for a bit to recharge my batteries without my darling, but time consuming and busy, children. But that's not a reality at the moment and if spend too much time thinking along those lines then I think I'd probably get pretty unhappy with this part of my life journey and the thing is that I am not. Unhappy that is. Yes, its ALL day and night EVERY day and night. Yes most of it is up to me. But its not for forever. He won't be this darling, squidgy, snuggly, snuffly, wiggly, dimply newborn forever. At some point he'll stop smelling like that gorgeous milky newborn baby smell. He'll start moving around, eventually he'll be running and climbing and jumping. He's started smiling and cooing but before I know it it'll be making louder noises, sounds, words, sentences and then tell stories and answering back like the others. And this time will be a distant memory but not one I'm going to be happy to leave. We've decided that this is our last child, that our family is complete so its all the more reason to cherish these moments and these times now because I won't be having them again.
Funnily enough though, when I had the other three children, when I started thinking like this I started to get sad at the idea of them getting bigger and wanting to do it all over again. This time I don't. Its like I am happy living in this moment and knowing that this is it, there will be no other moment but its not something to be grieved over but something to be enjoyed and cherished.
So I think I am done. Tellingly I think the first thing I said to DH after baby was born was "I'm done". I am done. I don't want to be pregnant again. I don't want to birth again. I will hold the memories of those things with all four children close and with joy but now I am ready to move on. And for a reality check, my body is done too. It can't take much more of a hammering so the doctors say and truthfully, I agree with them. Its time to move on.
Our precious boy "I" arrived in a hurry in February. Dark hair, blue eyes and very beautiful. As you can imagine life has been on the crazy side of chaotic over recent weeks so there has been even less time for anything. Except now I have a smart phone I can read the online papers, cruise the internet and post on Facebook while baby is plugged in and I am on the couch. Funny how life comes a full circle, when D was born we gave up our newspaper subscription because we just never got a chance to read the paper. And now I can thanks to a nifty app. 6.5 years ago there was no such thing as an "app".
Its never helpful to compare people or things but its funny how some things are scarily similar. Having a baby is like that. Not the births, they've all been totally unique but the aftermath. The dry as a desert mouth as baby starts to breastfeed. When I am so tired at night that I can barely sit upright anymore. The hormonal tears that erupt at the littlest things. The saggy belly, stretch marks and extra kilos. The delight at the first smile. The laughter at the poo explosions. The adorably cute clothes. All the same.
Yet having yet another child is different too. Its easier in some ways. I don't worry the same about what is happening... what to do and when. If something doesn't work, I try something else. If that doesn't work I try something else again. If that doesn't work I talk to my friends and sister and then remember something or try something new and even in all that I am not stressed at all, just going with the flow.
Baby is 6 weeks old and I remember being told that after 6 weeks everything settles down. And in some ways it has. I am making lunches, nagging the kids, making dinner, folding washing while watching television and trying to keep up with everything else with varying degrees of success. In some ways having a small baby is useful because I have a genuine reason to sit on the couch every 2-3 hours :). I have a even better reason to sneak in naps on the weekend. Sure it can be a little limiting in terms of activity and "me alone" time but I can survive that. I do miss it, the chance to pop out for a bit to recharge my batteries without my darling, but time consuming and busy, children. But that's not a reality at the moment and if spend too much time thinking along those lines then I think I'd probably get pretty unhappy with this part of my life journey and the thing is that I am not. Unhappy that is. Yes, its ALL day and night EVERY day and night. Yes most of it is up to me. But its not for forever. He won't be this darling, squidgy, snuggly, snuffly, wiggly, dimply newborn forever. At some point he'll stop smelling like that gorgeous milky newborn baby smell. He'll start moving around, eventually he'll be running and climbing and jumping. He's started smiling and cooing but before I know it it'll be making louder noises, sounds, words, sentences and then tell stories and answering back like the others. And this time will be a distant memory but not one I'm going to be happy to leave. We've decided that this is our last child, that our family is complete so its all the more reason to cherish these moments and these times now because I won't be having them again.
Funnily enough though, when I had the other three children, when I started thinking like this I started to get sad at the idea of them getting bigger and wanting to do it all over again. This time I don't. Its like I am happy living in this moment and knowing that this is it, there will be no other moment but its not something to be grieved over but something to be enjoyed and cherished.
So I think I am done. Tellingly I think the first thing I said to DH after baby was born was "I'm done". I am done. I don't want to be pregnant again. I don't want to birth again. I will hold the memories of those things with all four children close and with joy but now I am ready to move on. And for a reality check, my body is done too. It can't take much more of a hammering so the doctors say and truthfully, I agree with them. Its time to move on.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Holding on and letting go
Its hard to do both. Gran is dying. It won't be long. At the moment our family is often together, sharing ourselves between homes and the hospital, being with her, being with each other. Its hard to let go. Its hard to not want to do everything you can to keep them present in your life because that's how its always been. Next to my parents and siblings, my grandparents have known me the longest. They have passed on their wisdom to the later generations.
But then it is time to let go. A time to release the person into the arms of our loving God, trusting in the mercy and grace of our Saviour who died for us. We have to let go because we can't keep holding someone back from where they are meant to be. At some point we all go on further. We continue our journey into the much-anticipated unknown, but its something we must do by ourselves, or rather, hand in hand with God.
And so we hold onto each other. And we hold onto the promises of God. We remember the good things, the funny things, the quirky things. We hold onto the person that Gran really is, not a frail shadow lying in a hospital bed, but the beautiful woman with the warm smile who loved to play the piano and listen to us play and sing for her. The woman who would always have special wine glasses for us to drink out of and who often forgot the garlic bread when we sat down to dinner. The woman who thought nothing of making huge pavlovas at Christmas but always claiming she couldn't do fruit cake. Gran the collector of beautiful and precious things and who would give us generous monetary gifts just because she could.
Gran, I've said goodbye. I'll never forget you. Arohanui and farewell. Godspeed. Please know that God is a loving and gracious God and has hands open to receive you.
But then it is time to let go. A time to release the person into the arms of our loving God, trusting in the mercy and grace of our Saviour who died for us. We have to let go because we can't keep holding someone back from where they are meant to be. At some point we all go on further. We continue our journey into the much-anticipated unknown, but its something we must do by ourselves, or rather, hand in hand with God.
And so we hold onto each other. And we hold onto the promises of God. We remember the good things, the funny things, the quirky things. We hold onto the person that Gran really is, not a frail shadow lying in a hospital bed, but the beautiful woman with the warm smile who loved to play the piano and listen to us play and sing for her. The woman who would always have special wine glasses for us to drink out of and who often forgot the garlic bread when we sat down to dinner. The woman who thought nothing of making huge pavlovas at Christmas but always claiming she couldn't do fruit cake. Gran the collector of beautiful and precious things and who would give us generous monetary gifts just because she could.
Gran, I've said goodbye. I'll never forget you. Arohanui and farewell. Godspeed. Please know that God is a loving and gracious God and has hands open to receive you.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The Kindness of Friends
I've been tired lately. There is a reason and its not really anything I've done per se although we could call it an inevitable consequence of a choice made. More on that later.
Anyway, the other day I was tired. And I must have looked tired as I ran into a friend and she said a day or two later that she was wondering if I was okay (must have looked a train wreck actually). And she called and offered dinner. I thanked her and said yes.
Its funny how hard it can be to say yes to offers of help. You say things like "Oh no, we're fine" or "Don't worry, its not a problem" or "You don't have to do that". Generationally developed independence seems to have made us reluctant to admit that things are difficult or hard. We keep ourselves closed off, loath to admit that maybe things are difficult, challenging or just downright crappy. My grandparents are often heard to say things like "oh I didn't want to worry you" or "I don't want to be any trouble". We try to shut people out of our lives, or rather, the fullness of our lives. We show our best face to the outside world and try to hide the part that is less shiny and clear.
I sometimes wonder why we don't share the hard parts. Do we not want to worry people with our 'trivia' even if it is very real for us? Should we not let people worry and care for us? Should we not deny the privilege of people experiencing real concern for us. Isn't it the sacrifice of love, the worry and concern about others? As we make ourselves vulnerable we are open to the potential for worry or hurt. Isn't that what we are called to do?
We are called to love and we are called to live in community. We are called to love one another. Love is a verb, it is action. It is meals, phone calls, texts, help, visiting, prayer. It is encouragment and nurturing. And I blessed to have people in my life who do this for me on a regular basis. So my friend Sarah dropped around a meal, just because she thought I could do with a wee break around dinner time. A while ago I'd had a rough week, not a lot of sleep and felt quite stressed out. I visited some friends who know me far too well and they were immediately concerned about my wellbeing. They fed me. Gave me something to drink. Let me sit and talk as we watched our children dismantle their house and toys. They showed such love and care that I almost cried with gratitude. They hugged me as we left and called the next day to say that they loved me and were concerned for me. In that time I felt so nurtured and cared for. And I know that my friends have their own struggles and in one way I wouldn't have wanted to burden them with my own petty concerns, but I am glad that I did because it helped.
The funny thing is that none of these people would label themselves as Christian yet they show such depth of love that its hard to believe otherwise. They show selflessness. They show a practical, real, tangible love. God works through them in my life so often that they are one of the many blessings that I count on a regular basis.
I think as you have more children and as life gets full on and busy, its easier to let go of pride and pretense and be real. I admit that I am not the worlds best housekeeper. I am frequently behind in household tasks and sometimes we dress ourselves from the clean washing pile (incidently I heard of one Mum who used to put all the clean clothes in a huge chest and her kids would just rummage through it daily to find something to wear - I call that genius). Sometimes I give in and let my daughter wear slippers out just because I don't feel like the drama of yet another confrontation. When my littlest girl gets covered in paint and play dough at playgroup, I don't usually bother changing her clothes when we get home, because they'll just get dirty again. Sometimes I even go out in track pants that my sister assures me SHOULD NOT be worn outside of the house. And on those days I don't mind. I am learning how to be real. I am learning to be able to look at the whole picture and see a family who love each other, who have lovely homemade food to eat, a fire to keep us warm and snuggly beds to sleep in. A family who have a number of funny jokes that are part of our daily life. A family who are surrounded by people who deeply care about us and show us in a myriad of different ways how much they love us.
We are blessed. We are real. We experience the kindness of friends. We experience the love of God. Life doesn't get any better really, even if its difficult.
Anyway, the other day I was tired. And I must have looked tired as I ran into a friend and she said a day or two later that she was wondering if I was okay (must have looked a train wreck actually). And she called and offered dinner. I thanked her and said yes.
Its funny how hard it can be to say yes to offers of help. You say things like "Oh no, we're fine" or "Don't worry, its not a problem" or "You don't have to do that". Generationally developed independence seems to have made us reluctant to admit that things are difficult or hard. We keep ourselves closed off, loath to admit that maybe things are difficult, challenging or just downright crappy. My grandparents are often heard to say things like "oh I didn't want to worry you" or "I don't want to be any trouble". We try to shut people out of our lives, or rather, the fullness of our lives. We show our best face to the outside world and try to hide the part that is less shiny and clear.
I sometimes wonder why we don't share the hard parts. Do we not want to worry people with our 'trivia' even if it is very real for us? Should we not let people worry and care for us? Should we not deny the privilege of people experiencing real concern for us. Isn't it the sacrifice of love, the worry and concern about others? As we make ourselves vulnerable we are open to the potential for worry or hurt. Isn't that what we are called to do?
We are called to love and we are called to live in community. We are called to love one another. Love is a verb, it is action. It is meals, phone calls, texts, help, visiting, prayer. It is encouragment and nurturing. And I blessed to have people in my life who do this for me on a regular basis. So my friend Sarah dropped around a meal, just because she thought I could do with a wee break around dinner time. A while ago I'd had a rough week, not a lot of sleep and felt quite stressed out. I visited some friends who know me far too well and they were immediately concerned about my wellbeing. They fed me. Gave me something to drink. Let me sit and talk as we watched our children dismantle their house and toys. They showed such love and care that I almost cried with gratitude. They hugged me as we left and called the next day to say that they loved me and were concerned for me. In that time I felt so nurtured and cared for. And I know that my friends have their own struggles and in one way I wouldn't have wanted to burden them with my own petty concerns, but I am glad that I did because it helped.
The funny thing is that none of these people would label themselves as Christian yet they show such depth of love that its hard to believe otherwise. They show selflessness. They show a practical, real, tangible love. God works through them in my life so often that they are one of the many blessings that I count on a regular basis.
I think as you have more children and as life gets full on and busy, its easier to let go of pride and pretense and be real. I admit that I am not the worlds best housekeeper. I am frequently behind in household tasks and sometimes we dress ourselves from the clean washing pile (incidently I heard of one Mum who used to put all the clean clothes in a huge chest and her kids would just rummage through it daily to find something to wear - I call that genius). Sometimes I give in and let my daughter wear slippers out just because I don't feel like the drama of yet another confrontation. When my littlest girl gets covered in paint and play dough at playgroup, I don't usually bother changing her clothes when we get home, because they'll just get dirty again. Sometimes I even go out in track pants that my sister assures me SHOULD NOT be worn outside of the house. And on those days I don't mind. I am learning how to be real. I am learning to be able to look at the whole picture and see a family who love each other, who have lovely homemade food to eat, a fire to keep us warm and snuggly beds to sleep in. A family who have a number of funny jokes that are part of our daily life. A family who are surrounded by people who deeply care about us and show us in a myriad of different ways how much they love us.
We are blessed. We are real. We experience the kindness of friends. We experience the love of God. Life doesn't get any better really, even if its difficult.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
It isn't over
I don't deny that I have a deep distaste for war and violence. I find the idea of killing another person abhorrent. All life is sacred. And so when you hear that someone has died, someone who is blamed for the deaths of many, while I wonder if I should be happy and relieved, I mostly feel apathy. And I think I feel that because I don't think it will make a difference. Not really.
I am sure it makes a difference to those who saw this person as the reason behind the deaths of people they love. The reason why their country felt it had to defend itself outside their own borders. The reason why the world is such a mess. Maybe it brings those people some measure of comfort or peace, I don't know.
But you see it won't bring peace. This person is just one person and violence and war is a evil and multifaceted thing. There are hundreds more like this person. Some are on his side. Some are on our side. Where the only solution is death it makes us question... what is life?
I don't believe that humans were created to decide someone elses worth and to exercise that judgement. Only God should really have that responsibility. It reminds me of a theme in Harry Potter. In these books, a young wizard ends up fighting the most evil wizard ever. It is a classic tale of good triumphing over evil. The evil wizard has sought to make himself invincible by spliting his soul and secreting the pieces in other objects... so he can never truly die. And to split a soul you are required to kill another. There is a bit more to it and that but the idea of murder splitting souls resonated with me.
Back in the real world, the more I thought about it, the more I believe that taking another life does split our soul. And if it happens on an individual level, so if lives are taken on a collective level, as it is through war or violence, I think it probably splits the soul of humanity. Of our communities and of our society.
War doesn't actually bring peace. Not really. Weapons don't bring security. Not really. Taking someones life does not make our life safer. So I am not happy that this person has died. War hasn't stopped. The violence is still there. There is still a deep hatred and fear intrenched in so many. Using the same weapons as the enemy doesn't make us any better.
I don't know what the answer is. I believe that Jesus holds the key but I don't know how that is going to happen or when. I do believe that as a member of the Kingdom of God, I have a responsibility to embrace and extend peace and grace to others. And that's all I can do. If I can do that in my small part of the world then maybe its a start.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
No darling, water and paper does not make fire..
One thing I have found as a parent is that the questions never stop. Not only is my life full of near-constant requests for food, drink, entertainment, assistance with clothing, toileting and to stop the littlest person pushing the button on the DVD player but there are also the deep and meaningful ones. I admit that I was initially prepared for the constant Why questions and they haven't eventuated but other ones have.
D has had a bit of a thing about fire for a while. Not that he is a pyromaniac thankfully but he's very into fire fighters. He was part of some sort of safety talk at preschool about fire safety. That week he was absolutely paranoid about something spontaneously combusting. From then on in we had questions about whether ANYTHING would cause a fire. Water and paper. Paper and crayon. Wood and water. Concrete and food. If he touched something (you name it, a rock, dirt, a piece of paper, his plate). My attempts to get him to think about it himself were in vain, he needed the reassurance that we were not going to burn down any second.
Then there was the time he must have thought he had super powers or something...
"Mummy, did I break the guitar when I touched the case?"
"Did you knock it over?"
"No"
"Then it will be fine"
"Are you sure I didn't?"
"Yes sweetie, if you didn't knock it over then you wouldn't have broken it"
"But I think I did"
"Trust me, you didn't"
"But how do you know?"
"Because to break something you actually have to touch it and push it over and you didn't"
"Really?"
"Really".
And you should have heard the conversations at the dinner table when I was pregnant with A. Is the baby wearing clothes? Nappies? How does it get food? How will it come out? Can I watch?
C is also going through a questioning phase at the moment. Recently we had a family member die so we had LOTS of questions about death. When was I going to die? When was she going to die? When will Nana and Granddad die? What happens when we die? a question which D answered with all his five year old authority that we go to be with God but we don't come alive after three days because only Jesus did that. Truthfully I was relieved that he answered, not that I didn't know what to say but that I am now confident that D had realised that not everyone resurrects after three days which was a problem after the Easter story got a bit confusing a while back.
Today though I had a beautiful one.
"Mummy do you love me?"
"Yes I do, I love you very much?"
"Why?"
"Because you belong to us. I have loved you from the moment you were born".
Then she gave me her special 'Mummy and C smile'. She put her face towards me and closed her eyes and gave me the tiniest butterfly kiss. C is very sensitive to scent. And often when she cuddles in she will inhale my scent, like I would do when she was a baby and I'd smell her gorgeous milky newborn smell. When she kisses me like that, it is like she is inhaling my essence. And we had a proper cuddle, her soft cheek pressed against mine and for a moment it was just us.
It is those little moments that can carry me through the more challenging days.
D has had a bit of a thing about fire for a while. Not that he is a pyromaniac thankfully but he's very into fire fighters. He was part of some sort of safety talk at preschool about fire safety. That week he was absolutely paranoid about something spontaneously combusting. From then on in we had questions about whether ANYTHING would cause a fire. Water and paper. Paper and crayon. Wood and water. Concrete and food. If he touched something (you name it, a rock, dirt, a piece of paper, his plate). My attempts to get him to think about it himself were in vain, he needed the reassurance that we were not going to burn down any second.
Then there was the time he must have thought he had super powers or something...
"Mummy, did I break the guitar when I touched the case?"
"Did you knock it over?"
"No"
"Then it will be fine"
"Are you sure I didn't?"
"Yes sweetie, if you didn't knock it over then you wouldn't have broken it"
"But I think I did"
"Trust me, you didn't"
"But how do you know?"
"Because to break something you actually have to touch it and push it over and you didn't"
"Really?"
"Really".
And you should have heard the conversations at the dinner table when I was pregnant with A. Is the baby wearing clothes? Nappies? How does it get food? How will it come out? Can I watch?
C is also going through a questioning phase at the moment. Recently we had a family member die so we had LOTS of questions about death. When was I going to die? When was she going to die? When will Nana and Granddad die? What happens when we die? a question which D answered with all his five year old authority that we go to be with God but we don't come alive after three days because only Jesus did that. Truthfully I was relieved that he answered, not that I didn't know what to say but that I am now confident that D had realised that not everyone resurrects after three days which was a problem after the Easter story got a bit confusing a while back.
Today though I had a beautiful one.
"Mummy do you love me?"
"Yes I do, I love you very much?"
"Why?"
"Because you belong to us. I have loved you from the moment you were born".
Then she gave me her special 'Mummy and C smile'. She put her face towards me and closed her eyes and gave me the tiniest butterfly kiss. C is very sensitive to scent. And often when she cuddles in she will inhale my scent, like I would do when she was a baby and I'd smell her gorgeous milky newborn smell. When she kisses me like that, it is like she is inhaling my essence. And we had a proper cuddle, her soft cheek pressed against mine and for a moment it was just us.
It is those little moments that can carry me through the more challenging days.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Value me. Value her
Recently the government proposed changes to the existing welfare system which including strategies to reduce the number of people on benefits, including the DPB, the unemployment benefit and the sickness benefit.
If you cared to read the working report that these changed are based, and I have read most of it, you'd actually see that they didn't actually go to the very extreme options that were proposed. Part of me hopes that maybe those with the power realised that the extreme was just that, too extreme. The cynical part of me wonders whether they knew that by avoiding the extreme those with power start looking good… "look everyone it could be so much worse".
The thing I am finding sad right now is that suddenly women on benefits don't have a choice any more. The rules are going to be that once your child gets to about two or three then you're going to have to find work. Never mind that finding part time work is pretty hard. Never mind that you'd probably still have to find a bit extra to top up the daycare or preschool or creche hours. Never mind that you'd not actually earn enough to get off the benefit but you'd get your benefit reduced because you'd be earning to much to have it at its original level and you'd probably still need a top up from somewhere.
And never mind that you might want to stay at home with your children.
It is sad to me that there is a group of women who are trying to raise their kids in a pretty difficult situation and its going to get a lot harder. For some reason this mother is not considered as valuable as I am.
I don't earn any money at the moment. I haven't earned money in over 5 years. Not a cent. Not even anything under the table. In fact, we get extra money because I don't earn money. We get a welcome fortnightly payment because our income is low enough to warrant a bit of a break. Its a tax break they tell me.. its still money that the government can't use for something else though.
I want to stay at home with my kids and be there for them because I believe that its best for them. I want to know the minutiae of their day. I want to see their learning. I want to be there. I am pretty sure that a lot of solo Mum's would want the same. If anything they might want it more because they're all their kids have got day in and day out. The father/partner/boyfriend has gone and they're the ones holding it all together. But because they are receiving money from the government to help them do their parenting job they are seen as a drain on resources. Their job as a parent isn't valued.
So it makes me wonder. Does the government value parenting? I mean really. Do they see the benefits of children having contact with their parents for most of their day. Even 20 hours of free early childhood education leaves 148 hours a week in the direct care of a parent. Mostly a mother even in this day and age.
You see, I don't think we are valued. Parents that is. I think that because someone is not economically contributing then they are dismissed as useless. So as well as stay at home parents this would include the elderly, the disabled, the young. If we are not earning money somehow we are a drain. So the government focuses on a scapegoat, in this case the solo Mum, and says that she needs to work. Never mind that she is already doing a 24/7 week and that the other proposed changes to childcare regulations might make care provided for children downright risky (more on that later, believe me, the rant is coming). They can't touch the elderly, their vote counts too much. They can't touch the disabled, there would be an outcry. So they focus on one of more disadvantaged groups in society, perpetuate the myth of the dole bludging, constantly pregnant teenaged Mum who is on a benefit because of a lifestyle choice, and take away the choice of a whole group of women who already bear enough of a daily burden.
I'd like to see what I do be valued. I'd like to see what I do as being recognised as actually contributing to society even if I am not putting money in anyones bank account. I'd like to see the women who are raising their kids alone valued as people who are important in our community. They are trying to do the work of two people while having very little and it must be so hard. I am exhausted after a full day of caring for my lot and I have a husband who picks up more than just the slack and comes home every evening ready to do his part.
Value me. Value her. Value us. We're caring for our future.
If you cared to read the working report that these changed are based, and I have read most of it, you'd actually see that they didn't actually go to the very extreme options that were proposed. Part of me hopes that maybe those with the power realised that the extreme was just that, too extreme. The cynical part of me wonders whether they knew that by avoiding the extreme those with power start looking good… "look everyone it could be so much worse".
The thing I am finding sad right now is that suddenly women on benefits don't have a choice any more. The rules are going to be that once your child gets to about two or three then you're going to have to find work. Never mind that finding part time work is pretty hard. Never mind that you'd probably still have to find a bit extra to top up the daycare or preschool or creche hours. Never mind that you'd not actually earn enough to get off the benefit but you'd get your benefit reduced because you'd be earning to much to have it at its original level and you'd probably still need a top up from somewhere.
And never mind that you might want to stay at home with your children.
It is sad to me that there is a group of women who are trying to raise their kids in a pretty difficult situation and its going to get a lot harder. For some reason this mother is not considered as valuable as I am.
I don't earn any money at the moment. I haven't earned money in over 5 years. Not a cent. Not even anything under the table. In fact, we get extra money because I don't earn money. We get a welcome fortnightly payment because our income is low enough to warrant a bit of a break. Its a tax break they tell me.. its still money that the government can't use for something else though.
I want to stay at home with my kids and be there for them because I believe that its best for them. I want to know the minutiae of their day. I want to see their learning. I want to be there. I am pretty sure that a lot of solo Mum's would want the same. If anything they might want it more because they're all their kids have got day in and day out. The father/partner/boyfriend has gone and they're the ones holding it all together. But because they are receiving money from the government to help them do their parenting job they are seen as a drain on resources. Their job as a parent isn't valued.
So it makes me wonder. Does the government value parenting? I mean really. Do they see the benefits of children having contact with their parents for most of their day. Even 20 hours of free early childhood education leaves 148 hours a week in the direct care of a parent. Mostly a mother even in this day and age.
You see, I don't think we are valued. Parents that is. I think that because someone is not economically contributing then they are dismissed as useless. So as well as stay at home parents this would include the elderly, the disabled, the young. If we are not earning money somehow we are a drain. So the government focuses on a scapegoat, in this case the solo Mum, and says that she needs to work. Never mind that she is already doing a 24/7 week and that the other proposed changes to childcare regulations might make care provided for children downright risky (more on that later, believe me, the rant is coming). They can't touch the elderly, their vote counts too much. They can't touch the disabled, there would be an outcry. So they focus on one of more disadvantaged groups in society, perpetuate the myth of the dole bludging, constantly pregnant teenaged Mum who is on a benefit because of a lifestyle choice, and take away the choice of a whole group of women who already bear enough of a daily burden.
I'd like to see what I do be valued. I'd like to see what I do as being recognised as actually contributing to society even if I am not putting money in anyones bank account. I'd like to see the women who are raising their kids alone valued as people who are important in our community. They are trying to do the work of two people while having very little and it must be so hard. I am exhausted after a full day of caring for my lot and I have a husband who picks up more than just the slack and comes home every evening ready to do his part.
Value me. Value her. Value us. We're caring for our future.
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