Freedom

To live the Australian Dream. To voluntarily give it up.

This is freedom.

Better

by Brooke Fraser


Take my shoulder back now
Your head's too heavy for me
Please don't come around here no more
'Cos I asked you to stop
And you wouldn't


I would give anything to make you better
I would give anything to point you to free
I would give anything to help you realise


I loved you 'til it killed me
So my logic wouldn't hurt you
I know you might blame me anyway
Well I'm sorry, I'm so sorry


I would give anything to make you better
I would give anything to point you to free
I would give anything to help you realise
You're not helping yourself to me


I've tried all the things they told me to do
Trying to close up the wounds left open by you
And if I seem doubtful, distrusting.....I am
You said you wouldn't do it again
You said you wouldn't do it again


I would give anything to make you better
I would give anything to point you to free
I would give anything to help you realise
You're not helping yourself
You're not helping yourself by hurting me


Anything just to try and help you see
You ain't helping yourself by hurting me
Time to let you go, time for you to see
You ain't helping yourself by hurting me

She said:

'You are an English rose.

Your sister is an Australian rose.

What happened to her?!'

Truly Madly Deeply

‘A greater capacity to draw others to Jesus Christ through the depth of our love, which real change develops, does not come about through disciplined efforts to do the right things.'

- Larry Crabb

Have you ever heard about the fruit tree that had to work hard to bear fruit?

' I am like an evergreen cypress;
from me comes your fruit.'

Hosea 14:8

A better kind of normal

Written into the spiritual DNA of every believer is an appetite for the impossible that cannot be ignored or wished away.

We must redefine "normal" Christianity so it lines up with God's idea of normal, not the definition we have accepted and grown accustomed to based on our experiences.

- Bill Johnson

Woman

I've just finished watching The Stepford Wives: a re-imagining of a 1975 suspense thriller, of a town where the women are perfect, husband adoring, floral dress wearing domestic goddesses, whilst the object of their affections are drooling, pot-bellied nerds with receding hairlines. The catch? The wives are robots; progammed through micro-chip insertion by a remote control, living soley to please every desire of their husband. The poignancy of the movie is that the whole thing was a woman's idea. An extremely successful, intelligent woman, who came to a point in her life where her only and greatest desire was to love and be loved by her husband.

I have a confession to make. I've often thought that if I could choose, I'd like to live in the 1950s (the golden era which the town of Stepford emulates). Don't get me wrong - I'm all for equal rights of women - I love the fact that women can now choose to have a career; that single women no longer have to face as much social stigma; that I can go to university; and that a woman's mind and opinion is cultivated, admired and valued as much (if not more) than her culinary skills and hairstyle. (I know, some would argue the reality of these statements, but you've got to admit, things have come a long way.)

But sometimes - sometimes, I do wish I lived in 1950s America. There was enough technology to make life comfortable, but not so much that a family could co-habit but be barely speaking to one another (except of course, over msn). A woman wouldn't have to worry about juggling a job as well as trying to keep house. Children would come back from school with a parent who'd actually be at home. If we were in the 50s right now, I'd hang out at the milkbar, dance the jive, and on the weekends go to the drive-in cinemas a la Grease and American Bandstand. Things were safer: people left their doors unlocked, and would pop over to borrow a cup of sugar. I would so love to be a full-time mum, with a husband who worked, and for his wages to be enough to afford a house! And the fashion. I love the floaty, feminine dresses, the romance of hats and gloves and pretty bows. In the words of Glenn Close's character, I long for a world of romance and beauty.

So shoot me. Am I simply a product of male dominance and indoctrination: have I subconsciously become who I am out of a desire to please men? The dazzling smiles, but empty faces of the Stepford women scared me. I couldn't help but wonder.

As women, I believe we have still not far removed from this desire to please the opposite sex in a way that is healthy, and ultimately not right. Prime time TV's latest hit, The search for the next pussycat doll empowers women and reassures young girls that their self-worth is not tied-up with pleasing the male eye and desire. Hmmm. Or not.

At the same time, I couldn't help sympathising with the Stepford husbands. Their desire for robot wives was driven by a fear: a fear of their stronger, smarter, more capable, more beautiful, more 'successful' wives; a fear that they weren't enough; that they weren't men. Perhaps that's why a part of me sees beauty in the 1950s. There's something beautiful about a man being able to go to work (the modern day equivalent of going out to hunt and gather food), and coming home, and feeling that he is providing and protecting his family. Not because he is better, or more important, but because he can. And as a woman, there's something lovely in being able to rest in that: not because she is not less capable, or weaker, but because she is accepting her husband's strength as a sign of his love.

Things are now much more complex than the man 'working the land' simply because he was physically stronger, and biologically better suited for the task. Do men intrinsically feel threatened by a woman' s intelligence? Or is this fear only stirred by the way in which a woman may exercise this intelligence, consciously or subconsciously for power or to dominate? Do women feel inclined to prove themselves as a result of the struggle to enter the workforce and receive equal pay? And if so, where do we go from here?

On a separate note, I thought it was interesting that Glenn Close's character created a robot husband , but then subsequently sought to de-humanise the women, rather than the men. Does she assume that women are the problem? Must women assume sole responsibility for this relationship breakdown? I'm not trying to look for a scapegoat. I'm just trying to offer a different framework. Feminism needs to be understood in a wider context; just as we as women have threatened and failed to affirm men and their masculinity, I think it would be helpful to discuss how throughout history, men have failed to honour women and and de-valued their feminine identity. But that's for another day.

Indescribable

You see the depths of my heart and you love me the same!

You are amazing GOD!

A very beautiful thing

Yesterday, I witnessed a very beautiful thing. I was making sure that the kids at after school care were washing their hands for afternoon tea.

Most of the children had already left. Luke was still hanging around outside the tiolets, swinging on the pole.

' Luke, have you washed your hands?' I asked. He nodded.

Then before I could say anything else, Keith rushed out of the boys' toilets. Bypassing me, he ran to Luke, and grasped his hand, so deliberately. Hand in hand, together they ran off to aftertoon tea.

My heart soared. Such innocence! This was friendship. No strings attached. Uncorrupted by self-consciousness, social mores. A simple act of affection. I love it.

My rock

Wow. You are amazing!

The way you work, do things your way; I love how you're so unpredictable, how you continue to surprise me!

I wanted protection; avoidance from the situation; but you knew that wasn't what I needed.

It hurt, it really hurt. But as I'm being reminded of once again, it is only when we truly acknowledge our pain and our deep disappointment, that we can truly change.

Thank you for answering me! Gently, non-'miraculously', but ever so clearly. Wow. There's so much to digest, to absorb, understand.

Self-protection is a sin; and despite what others say and do, I know it; I've known for a while now.

It hurts, but there's no other way. I just need to trust you. It's the nucleus of any relationship, and who more trustworthy than you! The more I trust in you, the less I rely on my own strength to cope. It does seem like suicide; the recipe for trouble, burn-out - everyone's telling me. But this has to be right. It's so right! So true. It's a command from you - to love extravagantly. Not hold back.

Although I'm weak; sensitive; easily hurt; through my tears, I have to vulnerably trust you and move towards other people simplybecause it's your will for me - for your people - the unhindered, unrestricted way of love.

~


"Whoever lose his life for me will save it". - Luke 9:24

I want to live up to my name.

Black and white

It's always been all or nothing with me. Reveal all, or refuse to. Spill my heart, or keep it shut.

Maybe it's time I learnt to life in grey.

Hmmm. Not an exciting prospect for an idealistic university arts student. But then I'm not an arts student anymore. How sad.

Am I compromising?

No.

Just being sensible. It's what necessary. Even over this, I'm being black and white! Unnessarily dramatic.

This is just life, I'm telling myself. What normal people do. It's part of growing up. Being discrening. Being gracious. Not saying things to people when you know they're going to throw it back in your face.

But it's a difficult step. I don't want to become closed.

Where's the love in that?





What's happening?

Times they are a-changing.

Do you really need me?

I don't want someone who needs me.

Need. Sounds romantic, but it isn't.

It's just not healthy.

That kind of dependence scares me. And not because I lack compassion, or the desire to nurture.

But in a husband? Someone I will submit to, give my life to? Someone I hope to honour, admire and respect?

Lean on me, and I will always be your support - but I'd like to be able to rest on your shoulder too - and with confidence, knowing that you've got me too.

Love me with a jealous love, a tender love, with a love that is unquenchable, unwavering, intensifying. Desire and pursue me with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Want me.

But don't need me.

2 volumes

There are some people who will always hold a special place in my heart.

That smile. Her laugh. His face. That feeling!

Past moments - captured forever.

I'll never forget you all. How I love you!

Now

Here is a nice place to be.

Persuasion

I absolutely love this book!

And I'm only halfway through.

Nothing beats Austen when it comes to capturing romance with such wit, elegance and accuracy - and so deliciously.

It's a book to be savoured. Too precious to be rushed. No one writes like this anymore.

And it's theme? Of waiting. Regret. Missed opportunities. Decisions. Possibilities. Hope.

It's all about timing. No doubt why it resonates right now.

'How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been, - how eloquent, at least, were her wishes on the side of early attachment, and a cheerful confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems to insult exertion and distrust Providence! - She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older - the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.'