The Catcher of Her Dreams

“A mother’s love is instinctual, unconditional, and forever.”

Today I am writing about an event that, if I am to be completely honest, I wish had not happened. But it wasn’t my choice to make.

For the last six years, my daughter has contemplated thoughts of one day getting a tattoo. Way back when she was thirteen, my reaction had been, “in your dreams!”, as she would have needed my permission at that age, and that wasn’t going to happen.

As the years progressed and talk of getting a tattoo intensified, I would feel ill, as she spoke of the designs she had been considering.

“I gave birth to a perfect body, and I do not wish to see your perfect skin totally ruined, by having ink injected into it”, I would argue.

My daughter persisted. She investigated the credentials of tattoo artists near and far, finally deciding on one not too far from home, who has a very good reputation in the circles of “those who know”. Needless to say, I am not a member of any such circle.

Being artistically inclined, my girl began to draw tattoo designs, which she would show me, explaining where she would have the tattoo positioned on her body, her plan being that said eventual tattoo would be easily hidden beneath her clothing, unless she chose to expose it.

Whilst she became more confident by the day that she wanted to go ahead with this tattoo, my own motherly mind kicked in with the “what-if’s”.

What if she changes her mind about the tattoo as she grows older? She will have to have it removed, which is a costly and painful process.

What if she gains weight, for example, during pregnancy, and the tattoo becomes distorted?

What if the man she eventually wishes to spend her life with hates her tattoo? What if it’s a deal-breaker for him? Okay, there’s a simple answer to that question ~ if the tattoo is a deal-breaker, he doesn’t love my daughter for the person she really is, on the inside!

And there, with that last realisation, I discovered a mode of acceptance for myself, for my daughter’s decision on getting a tattoo ~ I do love her, no matter what. My love for her is unconditional, no matter how her body looks!

I may have given my daughter life, but that did not include a passport to dictate to her what choices she should make for her life.

Her tiny baby body may have at one time grown inside of me, but I cannot claim ownership on her body or any part of her life.

At nineteen years of age, my daughter has matured into a beautiful young woman, full of determination and spirit, with the knowledge of who she really is. She knows where she is going with her life. She plans ahead when the decision is one of significance.

Just as she did with her tattoo.

A close friend from school went with my daughter, the day the deed was done, and I thanked her for being there for my girl when I couldn’t be. I would have cried if I was there.

The design my daughter chose is beautiful, and significant. It is a dream catcher, so appropriate for my dreamer-daughter, who, for most of her life, has had a dream catcher above her bed. It holds onto the good dreams for her, and takes away the bad dreams.

The tattoo has been positioned on the side of her torso, easily hidden by clothing; easily exposed at the beach.

The pink shading adds an even more “girly” effect to the design, just as it should be, for my ultra-feminine daughter.

Even though I may have wished otherwise, when my daughter had made her decision, I supported her, she’s my baby, and I love her, no matter what.

And there’s no exceptions.

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A Sea Change…(AKA – An Adventure with my Reckless Parents!)

On our way north, with our lives packed into a caravan...

In 1971 my parents decided to make a “sea change”, selling our house, all of our furniture, discarding or giving away personal belongings which they believed we no longer needed, packed a few “must keep” items into boxes which were sent away to be stored, bought a caravan, and off we went.

Even writing that first line here gives me a feeling of panic; I personally would never dream of doing such a thing! Yet my parents found the whole idea so easy, almost as if it were a natural thing to do.

Sell your home; sure. Pack in your high paid job; no problem. Take your youngest child out of high school when she has only just started at her new school; she’ll cope!

Well, I did cope. I had no other choice, did I? What else could I do, other than tag along with these reckless parents of mine?

But here’s the thing; they had done it all twenty years before. When they had three young daughters, aged nine, six and four years of age, they packed a few beloved items into two large trunks, hopped on board the ship, “SS New Australia” and floated away into the sunset, in search of a new life on the opposite side of the world.

I must admit, buying the caravan was pretty great. And the idea of hooking the van up to the back of Dad’s station wagon in the middle of the night and beginning the drive north was very romantic.

And I knew I would be safe with my parents. Dad would fight off any monsters that threatened to harm me, whilst Mum held me safe within her protective arms, so really, I had nothing to worry about….did I?

How did a home-body like me happen to be born into a family where the father is absolutely fearless and the mother constantly has “itchy feet” and wants to spend her life in search of adventure?

Well, if it was adventure and change they were after, they succeeded, but that didn’t come as any surprise. My parents were both very feline like; they were a pair of cats with nine lives and always landed on their feet!

Dad out the front of the shop, with that dreaded bread window at the right side of the photo!

After four months of living in caravan parks (and using public facilities for our bathroom!) they finally decided to buy a shop in the very pretty town of Murwillumbah, New South Wales, slightly inland from the coast and just south of the Queensland and New South Wales state border.

To say “they” decided is not completely accurate; Dad had his heart set on buying the shop and Mum, true to her sense of adventure simply went along for the ride. Mum thought the buildings were shabby and old; well, looking at the old photos, she was right! But oh, that old shabby building was full of character and there was never a dull moment in the shop.

Poor Mum, she didn’t want to be tied to working in a shop, seven days a week, from 6am to 9pm! And when they went to view the business with a view to purchase, she remembered we had stopped at the shop on one of our previous trips north to buy a drink, but she had refused to buy anything. When she had looked in the fresh bread window there was a fly buzzing around the loaves of bread!

“Well, we’ll just make sure we don’t keep any flies with the bread then!”, Dad had argued, and he won the battle, although Mum was not satisfied until Dad renovated the shop, removing the dreaded bread window!

Our home was directly above the shop and apart from the white-ants in the wall in the hallway, the clanking blinds on the veranda that kept you awake at night (there was no glass in the windows on the veranda) and the toilet room was as big as a ballroom, it was a pretty comfortable home to live in! The old building had charm.

Dad inside the shop with staff, and friends, May & Betty.

Dad had convinced Mum that the business would be a little gold mine and he was right. It was situated right across the road from the ralway station, right where the railway line terminated, so when every train arrived, the shop became flooded with customers, plus there was a bus stop right at our front door. We were also right on the Pacific Highway and the last main town before reaching Tweed Heads and Coolangatta on the state border, so our shop was a huge draw-card to holiday makers. (Remember the fly in the bread window? We were on holidays at the time and stopped at the shop ourselves!)

We sold take-away food, groceries, bread (ha, ha!), dairy products, chemist items, we were a sub-newsagency and green grocers…you name it – we sold it!

Back view of the shop, showing the old shed and the bakery.

Apart from first thing in the morning and later at night we had two to three ladies working for us and I made friends with them all. I loved to help the ladies when I could; restacking the shelves or buttering bread for the sandwiches during the lunchtime rush, if I wasn’t at school, that is!

Out the back of the shop were some old sheds, which I couldn’t wait to explore. One building turned out to be a disused bakery (there’s that bread reference again!) that looked as if someone had just walked out one day, leaving everything in its place, never to return. The other

Looking towards the river, across the flood waters, from upstairs.

building, a shed actually, contained a neatly made bed (complete with folded up pyjamas under the pillow) and various other household items, including a bottle of metholated spirits. Urgh! After asking around, we found out that an old tramp had once lived there, and unfortunately the metho had been his “cheap alcohol”.

Around the back of the shop and across the road we had the Tweed River, so when it rained heavily for days, and flood warnings were issued, it was a matter of “all hands on deck” as we rushed around the shop, lifting everything in sight, before the river broke its banks. The flood waters ran straight through the shop, while we were safely tucked away upstairs, with Mum taking photos of the flood waters!

My parents had wanted a new adventure in their lives and for the three years we lived and worked in Murwillumbah it was a fun time, with so many memories, even more than I have recorded here.

It was a time when I thought my parents had totally lost their marbles and were in need of a “sanity check”, but being the felines that they were,  they landed, unharmed, right on their feet.

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Heather

I spent most of the day yesterday thinking about friends.

And friendships.

And how important it is to have people, namely friends, in our lives.

One friend in particular has been on my mind constantly for a number of weeks now, as she has nursed her husband of over thirty years through the last days and weeks of his life.

When Heather and I first met, about three years ago now, I felt immediately that she was a woman of strength and wisdom, honesty and courage.

And love. Heather has a heart full to brimming over with love, love for her family, her friends and neighbours. She epitomises the word love, so it came as no surprise at all to watch Heather’s friends rally to her side in her time of need.

When Heather faltered in her faith and strength, her friends were there to give her the courage she needed to make it through the day.

Prayers and good wishes were sent across the entire world, from people who wished to be her strength at times when Heather didn’t feel she had the will to go on.

I, too, sent Heather words of encouragement, prayers and love, along with everyone else who is proud to call her their friend, many of whom, like myself, have never met Heather.

As the days progressed and the health of Heather’s husband deteriorated, she continued to open up her heart, along with their lives, and share the journey that the family was taking; the joyous, priceless moments, of which there were many, along with the pain and the tears, as they all witnessed the husband and father who they all loved so dearly, slipping away from them.

Where did Heather find the strength to share, on a daily basis, the incidence of her life? Many days I would read her words and marvel at this woman of courage and faith.

And as Heather continued to record her feelings and bare her soul to her friends, more and more friends appeared to offer her support, to help carry her through this journey on the days when she felt she could walk no further, to be a crutch to her when she just needed a little encouragement to carry on.

Heather recorded her weak and faltering husband, as he had requested a moment himself in which to personally send thanks to those who offered their family words of encouragement and love.

I am totally in awe of this family! What a privilege it is to call Heather my friend! Never before in my life have I witnessed such an out-pouring of love, appreciation, strength, belief, courage, wisdom, faith and honesty, and all from a family who were living through one of the most tragic times in their lives!

Heather’s husband took his final journey just a few hours ago, and I would like to share the words which Heather wrote after she had rested. I wish to remember these words forever ~

“Heather woke up HAPPY and PEACEFUL and filled with JOY. I cannot explain it, but I have so much to share with you all over the coming days. The smile on my beloved’s face after he passed…the cessation of suffering and the radiation of peace is forever emblazoned on my eyes, mind and heart. I just want to SING GOD BE PRAISED!!!!!!!!! I was right there, in his face as he took his flight. I was laughing and smiling and glorifying God and his eyes were bright and you could feel the energy as he left. It was so amazing. Farewell, my one true love. I will miss you, but oh the memory of your passing is so incredibly beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Only a heart of stone could not be moved by Heather’s words.

As I write, I struggle to see through the tears in my eyes; tears of sadness over the loss which Heather’s family must endure, tears of joy as I recall the happiness they have found during the darkest of days and also tears of pride as my heart is bursting, as I marvel at the strength of my friend.

Through Heather’s eyes, I have seen the pure love throughout the world, love which makes no demands and no promises, has no expectations and is totally, completely and absolutely unconditional.

And friendship. I will never underestimate the power of friendship, of opening your heart and your arms, and welcoming people into your life.

Thank you Heather. Thank you for being my friend, for opening your heart, for your honesty, your wisdom and your belief.

Photo credit – Barbaraellen Koch (Photo taken the night Heather’s husband made his final journey.)

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Anne ~ Revisited

“Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” ~ Helen Keller

I’m a strong believer that all of life’s experiences are offered to us to teach us something. In a fairytale life, we may imagine skipping through fields of flowers, hand in hand with our loved ones, with never a quarrel and not a care in the world. As idealistic as this may seem, how would we develop strength of character, and wisdom, if we were all living in a perfect world?

My family is very dear to me. Every member of my family holds a special place in my heart, always. I was blessed with parents and sisters who always promoted honesty and respect, between ourselves first and foremost, but equally towards friends and strangers. I have promoted these same traits to my own children.

By and large, these teachings of respect and honesty have carried me steadfastly through my entire life to date. I am able to speak freely and honestly with both of my two elder sisters, just as they can with me. It’s an unspoken agreement that we have. And I value my honest relationships with my sisters more than any words can say.

This time last year I began a series of stories here about my eldest sister, Anne. The relationship that I shared with Anne could at times be rather tumultuous, to say the least. She could also be my closest confidant, my dearest friend and the first person I would turn to when I needed a mother figure.

Overall, Anne and I shared an honest relationship, although at times, Anne’s honesty could be just a tad overdue, with proclamations of honesty being put forward sometimes years after the original event!

Perhaps this paragraph, written by me on March 12, 2011, explains more clearly what I mean ~

“Most of my discrepancies with Anne were due to her taking something I had said in total innocence, totally out of context. And the worst of it was that she wouldn’t bring up the matter which had ruffled her feathers until long after the incident was over and long forgotten.”

Whilst I didn’t particuarly appreciate this characteristic in Anne, I tolerated it, just as all members of our family did. We all loved Anne, and in loving her, we all, at times, experienced what could easily be called “character building moments”.  She taught us all a lot, especially patience, and how to bite our tongues and be respectful towards her, when she was trying us to the limit!

Anne has been gone for over four years now, and the series of stories I wrote last year about my relationship with her were prompted by the turmoil I felt about my relationship with my sister. It is difficult when unresolved feelings keep on biting at you, when the one person with whom you can talk to about these feelings is no longer living.  You have to figure out a way to finally accept the relationship you had with them for what it was, without harbouring any grudges or ill-feelings. In short, you have to learn to forgive.

With Anne, I could do that, although some days I would think of her and the urge to go to the phone and call her up for a chat have been strong and the reminder to myself that I no longer have the luxury of phoning her has instantly made my heart plummet.

It was a personal achievement when I realised that I could finally lay my mixed feeling and emotions about Anne to rest. Unfortunately, though, some of these feelings raised their ugly heads again recently, in the form of Anne’s daughter.

During a series of emails, my niece accused me of being cruel and judgemental towards her. And here’s the punchline – it was all regarding a comment I had apparently made to her, perhaps seven years ago!

It was “Anne – Revisited”!

When I say it was a comment that I “apparently” made, this is because the comment was not something I would have ever have said to anyone. At first, when the accusations were made, I was angry. I felt like I had felt about Anne. My niece had taken something I had said years ago out of context.

Minutes after the anger, though, I felt strength in my soul, all due to the trials I had experienced with Anne, when she was still here.

When I told my niece that her mother did what she was now doing, which was not addressing a subject which had apparently bothered her enough to resurrect the topic again after so many years, rather than being honest at the time of the conversation, I was told, “well at least now I know how you feel about my family”.

Anger again raised its ugly head. Her family? Anne was my family too! My niece did not have exclusive rights to a relationship with my sister, which I pointed out to her, immediately. To my niece’s credit, she replied by saying “point taken”.

After harsh words with Anne, I would agonise over how to rebuild our friendship, because she was my sister and I loved her.

I am not agonising over Anne’s daughter though, nor do I feel any remorse.

My experiences with Anne developed and built my character. The suffering and trials were worth it. I have realised my ambition of easily moving on, regardless of conflict with my niece. She didn’t offer me honesty; I owe her nothing.

My sister, bless her, taught me well. Finally, I can walk away from the anger and pain.

“Bless a thing and it will bless you. Curse it and it will curse you…If you bless a situation, it has no power to hurt you, and even if it is troublesome for a time, it will gradually fade out, if you sincerely bless it.” ~ Emmet Fox

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“A Review of the Year That Was” A.K.A. “Making all the Wrong Choices, for all the Right Reasons”

Time....

“We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial” ~ Philip James Bailey.

You may have noticed, as I have, the way in which time speeds along these years, faster than ever before.

Perhaps that statement could be debatable. Perhaps it is our faster pace of life that is the culprit, leaving us all with the impression that someone has reduced the number of weeks between one Christmas ending, and the next Christmas beginning.

With that in mind, I find I simply must utter the classic statement ~”Where did this year go?!”

I still have yet to determine why every December brings with it the thoughts of changes I wish to make to my life, as I venture towards improving the quality of said life. Call it “Making New Year’s Resolutions” if you must; I prefer to regard any changes I feel I must make as “learning and growing”.

My wise and wonderful mother repeatedly informed me that you are never too old to learn something new. As a twenty-something year old I scoffed at her statement, not due to disrespect for my mum, but rather from my own misconception that I would be “forever young”, and not ever “old enough to learn something new”.

Well, my memories of having been twenty-something have long since melded themselves into the far away distance of yesteryear, being replaced by a strong desire to learn something new, anything new, oh please, just let me learn!

Therefore, in earnest review of the Year of Our Lord, 2011, as I find myself in the midst of profound flash-backs of the year that was, have I gained any wisdom from my numerous choices and actions?

I wish I could answer that question with a resounding “yes!” but honesty prevents me from doing so.

Yet again, I recall wrong choices made, for all the right reasons. And why, I ask myself, must hindsight bring me all of the wisdom I strive for, yet again?

As I beat my head against the brick wall, strongly chastising myself for all of my wrong-doings throughout this year, a more profound question comes to me ~ “If I could relive the past year and re-do anything I have done, would I change anything?” More importantly, could I change anything, given the knowledge I found myself with at the time?

And therein lies the answer to all of the questions The Universe could ever wish to throw in my direction on this subject. If I have made my choices by acting upon every God-Given Instinct in my possession; if my actions are made without cruelty or malice toward another person; if I am able to lay my head upon my pillow and sleep soundly each night, free of any hint of a guilty conscience ~ I have learned something new, and I have grown.

….and I will continue to grow, and learn some more, next year….

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