Cape Crusade

I hate to admit it but I've all but abandoned my search for the perfect cape. Inspired by Lord of the Rings and Sherlock Holmes, I've spent the past couple of weeks dreaming about a forest green woolen cape with plaid lining and a fur collar. I've posted on Facebook, pinned on Pinterest and trawled Etsy and Fabricworm for suitable materials. I even had a skilled seamstress lined up who has drawn up a draft pattern and everything (hi Rosey dear!).

So, why? Well, a number of reasons (including cost), but in the end, I've determined that I just need to give the whole cape caper a break.

Recall with me my futile search for my Dream Jacket in my 20s. I was looking for (funnily enough) a knee-length, dark green, 70s style jacket. I had spied one in a (closed) shop window on K Road, Auckland while on holiday and become fixated with finding one like it once back in Oz.

There were many 'interim' jackets - brown suede from Glebe Markets, brown leather from a random Op Shop in Auckland, dark brown vinyl/velvet from Glebe again and more recently, a navy leather jacket from Retro Star on Flinders St.

When I took the navy jacket to the counter at Retro Star, I said to the saleswoman "You know, this is so close to my Dream Jacket except it's navy instead of green..."
To which she replied "I like navy, it's smart. But we do get green jackets in a bit so you should come back!" (Great sales tactic, hey?) "And anyway, that's what makes it a Dream Jacket, isn't it?"

Interim 'cape'

I left, thinking about the wisdom of the op shop checkout chick. I've come to think that she is right. Anything that we spend lots of time and energy dreaming about is probably not going to be that satisfying once we actually get our mitts on it. The beauty of the Op Shop find is that you stumble across it, like hidden treasure in a dusty dungeon filled with other people's offcasts. Then it becomes an anecdote when you receive compliments on the coat/shoes/bag: "Oh, this old thing? I found it in an Op Shop on King St and paid 20 bucks for it..."

Anyway, where God shuts a door, somewhere He opens a window (thankyou Reverend Mother). This week I found an 'interim' cape - well it's a woolen jacket thing, plaid and a bit cape-ish. And warm, and covers my growing belly (baby #3 being cooked as we speak). And it was on sale, so everyone's happy.

For now.

How about you? What's your Dream Thing - be it clothing, household appliance, electronic device or miscellaneous item? How did you feel when you finally got it? I'd love to hear all about it!

Book Review: The Roots of Endurance

The Roots of Endurance – Invincible perseverance in the lives of John Newton, Charles Simeon and William Wilberforce by John Piper

‘Have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.’ Hebrews 6:11-12

We live in a time of emotional and spiritual fragility. ‘We are easily hurt. We pout and mope easily. We blame easily. We break easily. Our marriages break easily. Our faith breaks easily. We are easily disheartened, and it seems we have little capacity for surviving and thriving in the face of criticism and opposition’.

What are the qualities we need to run the Christian race with perseverance and endure to the end?

In his book ‘The Roots of Endurance’, John Piper tells the story of three men in history who displayed astounding resilience in the face of sustained persecution and suffering. Charles Simeon faithfully served in his Anglican parish in Cambridge for 54 years, despite defiant opposition from his own parishioners, who locked their pews for the first 12 years of his ministry so that anybody who did want to listen to his sermons was forced to stand in the aisles!

William Wilberforce endured as an evangelical member in the British House of Commons, battling for over 50 years to see the African slave trade declared illegal. John Newton was himself the captain of a slave-trading enterprise, but was found by God and subsequently wrote one of the best-known hymns of all time: ‘Amazing Grace’.

In sketching their lives with a focus on their long-suffering and steadfast joy, Piper encourages himself and his readers to learn important lessons in humility and gratitude.

Piper contends that each of these Christ-followers possessed a compelling joy and faith rooted firmly in Christ and His Gospel. They knew that they were undeserving sinners who had been plucked from the fires of hell to serve the One True God. They were in love with Jesus and cared only for His regard, not the regard of their fellow men. All three were influential in fighting for evangelicalism in England in the 19^th century. Yet they were tender hearted, caring for the unlovely with costly, practical love.

I first read this book in my early thirties and think it’s the kind of book that grows richer with time. The older I get, the more suffering I see and the greater the temptation to grow bitter, lose heart or simply give up. I was greatly challenged reading of the tough yet tender souls of these 3 saints.

I highly recommend this book and the others in this series: “The Legacy of Sovereign Joy: God’s triumphant grace in the lives of Augustine, Luther & Calvin” and “Tested by Fire: the fruit of suffering in the lives of Bunyan, Cowper and Brainerd”.

Fauxhemian Rhapsody

Recently I was at the shops with Dan, looking for a winter jacket for him. My beloved hates clothes shopping, I think he'd rather get his teeth filled at the dentist than try on clothes in trendy stores with salespeople who ask you what kind of 'look' you are after. Anyway, we found a leather-look jacket for him in the first shop we entered and bought it before he could emit too many passive aggressive vibes.

Then we had some time on our hands, so I left him with the toddler in the overcrowded indoor playground and went to do a spot of clothes shopping for myself. Unlike my husband, I don't mind looking at clothes, as long as I don't leave empty-handed. Clothes shopping for women is a minefield though, and I never quite know which shops I should check out as a woman who's *ahem*, approaching mid-life.

In your 20s, you can wear crazy, cheap clothes from shops like Supre, Valleygirl and Sportsgirl and still look great - you're 20 something and beautiful! In your 30s you move onto stylish, classic  shops like Witchery and Country Road, or if you have kids and a mortgage, Target and op shops. Now I've reached my 40s I suppose I should be looking at David Lawrence and Blue Illusion. 

Yet somehow I can't bring myself to buy clothes from shops where a twin set costs more than I'd make in a day of emergency teaching. Besides, I hate twin sets! So, after looking at the 'mature woman' shops, I went back to the 'young things' shops and bought... some faux leather leggings and a faux fur vest. Yep, I know. If I had a daughter, she'd be rolling her eyes in embarrassment.

My sister-in-law, who's young and knows about such things, tells me that this is 'last year's look'. Truth be told I think I'm about a decade too old to pull off any 'look'. And yet, I'm secretly pleased with my purchases. They're warm, add spice to my wardrobe and importantly, were bought on sale for a good price (maybe cos they were from last season;).

In the end, you can wear whatever you like when you get old. You're only limited by your own perception of what is and isn't 'appropriate attire'. I'm hoping I can be like the woman in this poem and wear purple with pride.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me,
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals,
and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired,
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells,
And run my stick along the public railings,
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens,
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat,
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go,
Or only bread and pickle for a week,
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats
and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
And pay our rent and not swear in the street,
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised,
When suddenly I am old
and start to wear purple! 
Jenny Joseph

Linnets wings vs the world wide web

I'm not one to make lists of resolutions - new year ones or otherwise. I don't perform well under pressure and seem to do better with a 'have a go' attitude. So, my latest quality of life-enhancing initiative has been to be online less and be 'present in the moment' more. I'm hoping that this means spending more time mucking around with my boys with no agenda, enjoying God's creation, seeing real-life friends, finding some new creative outlets and possibly even a spot of exercise - you never know!

I also want to prioritise time to sit and read books rather than flit around the virtual smorgasbord of blogs, facebook and youtube clips. There have been a few warning signs that the 'flitting' has not been good for my mental state. Towards the end of term I found myself forgetting things, running late to appointments... I even forgot to pick up my son from childcare on the last day of term - ooops! Very unlike my usual conscientious self.

So, I'm trying to step back a bit and breathe. Which is hard to do when you are constantly 'connected' with the world wide *funnel* web.

I know it's a cliche to say that the internet is turning us into superficial, short-attention-spanned narcissists who want to be endlessly entertained and instantly gratified, but hey, cliches are often true! So, here's to a simpler life.

Emerald Lake Park in Autumn

I'm leaving you with WB Yeat's evocative poem 'The Lake Isle of Innisfree':

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Sigh. Personally I think I'd get a bit lonely after a few days, and struggle to exist on honey, beans and natural beauty...But the idea is very attractive, don't you think?

Confessions of a Compassion Junkie

For some reason I found myself reading 'The Australian' this morning at Macca's. The jury is out on which was more unpalatable - the egg & bacon wrap or the content of the newspaper. But I definitely felt queasy afterwards.

One article in particular upset me enough to restart this blog which has lain dormant for over 6 months. It was about the asylum seeker issue, which is in the news a lot at the moment because of recent events on Manus Island. The journalist (Janet Albrectsen), described those who think that the current bipartisan policy to 'stop the boats' using off-shore detention is inhumane and morally wrong, as 'compassion junkies', amongst other not so flattering terms.

I've never heard it put quite like that before. Since when has compassion - feeling pity or sympathy for another human - been something to be scorned and shunned? Likened to a toxic substance? It reminds me of the term 'bleeding heart', which I've never understood as an insult.

Personally, I don't think I am addicted to compassion (the blog title was just to reel you in:). I like comfort and protecting 'my own' as much as the next person, and would rather watch MKR than SBS news. But I do value compassion and kindness and want to exercise to my empathy 'muscles' as much as possible in this crazy, broken world. I want to encourage my children, friends and even fellow Australians to do likewise. Otherwise, I'm fearful of where our society is headed.

It's not just about the asylum seekers. It's about looking outside of your own little circle and feeling for somebody who is different to you, possibly who is a lot worse off than you. If caring about someone else makes me a 'compasion junkie', then I'll wear that badge with pride.