The Importance of Beauty?

This is really kind of cheating, but I just read a thoughtful (as always) post on Divergent Pathways, entitled 'When Ugly Isn't' that you can read here, and I am posting the main part of my own comment on that post here, with some additions, since I think it is an interesting topic and I am interested in your thoughts...  :)

I don't know what the deal is about our looks. My grandmother told me most sincerely that she thought the most beautiful women in the world was Queen Elizabeth - I think she loved her sense of duty.. 

What I do know is that the best people I have ever met in life have not been the best looking. Not that I have anything against good looks - I love and enjoy beauty...   But it's just one part of what we can be, and not a very important part, when all is considered. 

I think the modern world is so incredibly replete with an over-abundance of images everywhere: by mirrors, in reflective windows and other surfaces, photographs, pictures, in magazines, on posters, in advertising, through media, etc, etc, etc - that we've become hyper-sensitive to this one aspect of humanity - giving it an importance far beyond what it deserves. 

Added to that is our modern societal custom of interacting with many people each day only by viewing them and having them view us, usually briefly, in passing. The impression we get to make upon others is therefore reliant upon what they see in that brief glimpse. There's some pressure! - to be evaluated time and again by only our appearance. 

Before the miracles of modern transport, most of us lived all of our lives among the relatively few people who shared our often very small geographical area of home. People got to know each other for who they really were. I think looks were much less important in such an arena. A beautiful soul could be truly appreciated only under such a sustained and discerning light.

I suppose another factor in our over-concern with personal appearance is our over-abundance of free time.  If I had to work longer and harder each day, I doubt I'd be spending so much time worrying about my looks.    You know those lovely, wrinkled and weathered faces we sometimes see in National Geographic photos of aged peasants?  Those faces look like they've got more on their minds than just visage.   

My point is, in summary therefore, that I don't think it was always like this!

I wonder about the next life.. Do we change, or do we see with different eyes? (Because, even on my best days, in my best years...)  

I sometimes consider that the Saviour was described with the words: “He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him"  I also note with interest that the modern prophets and their wives were not usually ultra-slim and model types. (Though always so very wonderful of course!  I do this, as you understand, to comfort myself on occasion :)


Of course, perhaps understanding a little about why I worry so much about appearance is not, unfortunately, the same as not worrying about it anymore...  But perhaps it helps a little :)

And on an altogether different topic (or perhaps not :)  - Our sons Ben and Oliver took out their endowments in the Brisbane temple last night.  Almost everyone in the family was there (we really missed Bec, and Beth and Robbie who are in Sydney) - which was so wonderful!  There are so many fun things to do in life, but this was one of those fewer occasions that brings pure joy!

Neil and I leave with the twins tomorrow morning for a week away together, travelling the Great Ocean Rd.  I am SO HAPPY that we decided to do this - it will be a great time to make some memories, and share some time with each other away from all the necessary preparations...  

They leave for their missions in two weeks from tomorrow. 

 !!!!!

'Feminist atheist' loves Mormon housewife blogs...

'Why I can't stop reading Mormon housewife blogs

I'm a young, feminist atheist who can't bake a cupcake. Why am I addicted to the shiny, happy lives of these women?'

This is the heading of an article written by a magazine journalist.

It's fairly lengthy but I think you will find it 
an interesting read.  

You can find the article here.
There was also an interesting follow-up blog comment here:
http://blog.cjanerun.com/

Patience - for Eternity

We discussed in Family Home Evening this week the recent Conference talk on 'Patience" by President Dieter Uchtdof.  Particularly how it applies not only to the every-day, waiting-at-the-check-out kind of patience, but rather how it applies to each of us as we work our way toward perfection.   We commented that many people are burdened by feelings of inadequacy and a lack of belief in themselves, making it especially hard to keep going in the face of our repeated failures to accomplish perfection now.

Now, I am a big believer in the need for us to stop worrying about self-esteem issues, and concentrate instead on putting others first, (I know - a big no-no in the mind set of our times).  Somehow, coming from your basically unhappy, broken home, I seem to have emerged nonetheless with a firm belief in myself and everyone around me.  I'm sure my mother had a lot to do with that.  But I am slowly understanding that all sorts of worthy, wonderful people don't feel at all about themselves that way.

So I wanted to pass on a thought that our family talked about:

Babies, children, toddlers are wonderful.  They try and try and fall or fail and try again until they 'get it' - eventually, they will walk, talk, toilet themselves, say 'Mummy, I love you', even learn to ride a bike, swim across the pool,  and read by themselves.  Eventually, their toes will touch the floor while they are sitting on the pew in church; their fingers will eventually reach the doorknob, the top of the doorway, (and sometimes, in the case of teenage boys straining to be picked for the basketball team), the ceiling.  These things will, in the normal course of life, always be achieved, as surely as a 10 kilo snack of chocolate is going to show on the scales.   Babies don't ever ponder the possibility of failure.  It just never seems to occur to them.  So they keep trying, until they do advance; achieve; succeed.  And we take their eventual success just as much for granted; we also believe that their destiny is to be successful.  (Except for the universal proviso of young mums who sometimes wonder if their child will ever sleep through, or ever be toilet-trained, or stop wetting the bed.  They will  :)

To look at a baby or a small child, it could seem incredible that they will be able to accomplish so many intricate, fabulous things one day.  Except that we know what is possible, and probable, because we have already managed it ourselves.  How sad it would be to ever see a baby just give up on trying - to walk, or talk, or feed themselves, knowing as we do the progress that would have occurred if they had continued their efforts.  

I wonder if that is the way that Heavenly Father looks at us.  He sees us fall over, again and again, and I think that His response probably mirrors our response to our own children: a warm and vitally interested desire to encourage and support, and a feeling of overwhelming love for the child, walking or not; successful or, not just yet.  Perhaps He loves us in the same way that we love our babies,  even when they can't do anything much yet.  Perhaps He smiles understandingly, as we occasionally do, when the baby who is learning to sit up, puddles over onto their side, or sometimes falls flat on their face, or even when one throws a tantrum.  Maybe it really doesn't bother Him that much that it takes us a while to learn what we need to - since He knows that eventually, with His help, we will, inevitably, succeed - if we will likewise disreguard all notions of failure.

I remember with a lot of loving humour the picture of our oldest daughter, Tammy, learning to play her first piano piece for a beginner's exam.   She sat at our piano each day, plonking out the few notes, trying over and over again to play the tune, before throwing her hands to her eyes and crying, with real anguish, "I can't do it, I just can't do it!  I'll NEVER be able to learn this - it's too hard!."   Fast forward to her seventeenth year, to the exceptionally difficult and lovely music pieces she practised each day then, in preparation for her Diploma of Music exam.   How wonderful it was to hear her filling our home with such beautiful melodies.

How wonderful to know that our stumbling, faltering, and sometimes emotionally hysterical attempts now to sound a tune, will one day, most certainly, if we 'continue in patience', become performances of great beauty too.

Perfection?

Our womens' Relief Society class on Sunday was about patience.  One sweet sister made the comment that it is sometimes hard to be patient with yourself when you can see others around you who seem to be so much further ahead and more successful with everything in life than you are.  "Don't worry," the kind teacher assured her,  "they just look perfect on the outside.  They have just as many faults and troubles as you!  You know that sister that everyone talks about: the one who bakes her own bread, makes her children's clothes, always has her house tidy, does her scripture reading every day?  She doesn't exist!!"  And many in the class laughed a little and seemed to feel better. 

I remember my wonderful mother-in-law, who was a Stake Relief Society president for many years, telling me years ago (when I was a young mum), about a special women's meeting her stake had recently enjoyed.  The speaker, one of her counsellors at the time, I think, talked about 'this mythical Mormon woman', who seemed Perfect in every way.  "And do you know what?!"  the speaker assured the congregation of mormon women, "she doesn't exist!  And if she did exist, she wouldn't inspire me!  I'm inspired by You!  By your faults!  Because I can't relate to that 'perfect woman'!  I can relate to you!"  My faithful mother-in-law told me how much the talk had meant to all the women there; how much everyone there had loved it.



"I don't think we need to be threatened by perfection,"  I ventured to comment to the teacher on Sunday.  "I think there is so much to learn from each other, and I am so grateful to have examples around me of people who can do so many things better than I do."

"Yes, but if anyone seems to be too perfect, it's just discouraging!"

.....

What then of the wonderful gift of our Saviour's perfect example?   Are we to feel badly about ourselves because He was without fault?

Isn't one of the greatest blessings we have here on earth, not only the perfect teachings, but also the perfect example of our Saviour?  Are we not further able to take great strength not only from the teachings of our prophets and apostles, but also in great measure from the example of their lives too?  As with the lives of so many other good and great people, both the humble and the feted, that we are so blessed to have around us, or to know something of?

My grandmother's example, for instance, taught me that you really could have a beautiful, perfectly clean, perfectly well-ordered home, and that such a home could provide a strong base for a peaceful family life.  I wouldn't have known that so well if I hadn't seen it modelled in her home.  Other examples I have garnered from friends, leaders, family members, and much-appreciated biographies, have taught me that I can be more loving, more hard-working, more patient, more forgiving, more generous, more brave and valiant, more humble and meek, more studious, more spiritually attuned than what I currently am - and have shown me that perfection, and certainly improvement, is veritably attainable in all these areas.   

I don't find inspiration in under-achievement.  How could I?  I'm already there!  If I am to perfect myself, it won't be from looking to people's faults, or stepping on others, but will be by having kind hands, loving faces, and fine examples before me, to help raise me up.  Before and above all others, we have the example of the Saviour to guide us all. 

Perfection in others is surely the very opposite of discouraging!  If someone else can do it - isn't it likely that you and I can too?  Are we not all children of our loving Heavenly Parents?  Are we not all sent here with divine potential, and with the same sure promise of celestial success, according only to our own choices? 

I cannot think of a single person I know who I don't look to for an example in some thing, or that I can't learn from.  I'm constantly amazed and delighted at how truly wonderful people are.  It's a big part of my testimony that we are in reality, all children of God - especially when  I can see and feel the truth of that in the people I come across each day.

I'm also constantly amazed when people fail to know that about themselves - how infinitely special each of us is.

I believe that a lot of the things that we think of as being faults in ourselves and others, are probably somewhat insignificant in the big scheme of eternal everything.  And that a lot of the kindnesses, and courage shown by many every day, are actually more significant than we currently understand - in much the same way that the stumbles of a toddler learning to walk are really just moments along the way to his knowing how to run: important as part of the process, but eventually all but forgotten in the glow of his eventual, sure success - if he kept trying, that is.

I'm grateful for your good examples!  In so very many ways, you are more creative, more sociable, more diligent, more insightful, more progressed, more all sorts of wonderful things than I am.  I am so grateful that you are!

So! - Please don't hide your perfections under any kind of bushell.  Your shining lights are helping me to find my way forward and upward too  :)

xo

Over the Back Fence

My mother used to spend part of each day, more or less, chatting over the back fence to one or more of her neighbours.  Neil remembers his mother doing likewise.  I'm pretty sure their mothers would have done the same.  Back then - and it was really not so very long ago - fences were almost always less than waist high, so you could easily see one another, and have something to lean yourself, or your basket of washing, against.

I suppose that these women would discuss their children and husbands, a television show they had enjoyed, cooking and recipes, their housework and homemaking tips, world events and local news, and their personal thoughts about Life, etc.   Over the back fence you could admire a new baby, exclaim over how much little Jonny had grown, and be invited in to see the new lounge suite. 

When our children were little I had a close neighbour whose brother commited suicide.  I think she and I spent at least half of all our weekly daylight hours together after that, for at least six months, at her place or mine, while our children played and I mostly just listened while she talked it all through; enough for her to come to terms with what had happened. 

Then six-foot high wooden paling fences gradually divided our properties, and women began to go out to work more and more anyway, and to stay home with children less and less.  Those who were still at home began to stay inside more too - enticed by  larger, more comfortable homes and colour TV's and year-round air-conditioning.  Women who did stay at home were in danger of becoming isolated, lonely, and sometimes depressed. 

(I've always thought that Motherhood and Homemaking as a profession, if you will, is not for the faint-hearted.  I remember how keenly I would clean and tidy every morning, and how I was the only one, aside from our beautiful children, who ever saw the bathroom in all its perfection - before the four o'clock bathing tsunamis that drenched all the surfaces I had shined so assiduously that morning!  No one is ever going to come along to a hard-working mother and say: "Wow, You have been doing such a Great Job that I am going to give you a Promotion, and a well-deserved Raise!   Nope.  You have to really believe in what you are doing yourself.  But there is still nothing else that I would rather have been doing.   What is helpful though, is to have some understanding, encouraging and supportive friends to share the ride with...  )

Most blogging Mums I know, (admittedly, not a gigantic number), worry to some extent about the time that it takes to blog and to 'blog-stalk'.  'Is it a waste of time?', we guiltily wonder.  I'd like to throw this thought out there, in answer to those worries:   Through blogging we are merely re-introducing, with a modern take,  the cameraderie our mothers and grand-mothers enjoyed quite naturally and happily over the back fence everyday.  Everyone knew that you weren't supposed to be outside nattering all day; but the usual amount of chit-chat was seen as a positive and emotionally healthful endeavour.  I think it still is. 

I like that women have a new way to connect; a way that suits our lives and modern living constraints. 

(Of course, a one-sided conversation with yourself doesn't do so very much to alleviate feelings of alone-ness, or add as much as it could in the way of encouragement or understanding either, so I think it's always nice to leave a comment on people's blogs too :)

'Shout it from the roofs...'

Og Mandino said it well when he wrote: 'when I am moved to praise I will shout from the roofs.' I've remembered that since I first read it over thirty years ago. To me it is about the importance of giving people the credit that they have earned.

I was in a Visiting Teaching workshop last week when one of the sisters told of the valiance of her Visiting Teacher, who rode her bike to appointments when a car wasn't available. Another sister said, "yes, I know who you mean - she is my Visiting Teacher too - and she is wonderful!"

"Who is it?" I asked, although I thought I already knew. Ros is a very quiet and diligent sister who I thought could probably really use some unexpected recognition. She doesn't ever look for acknowledgement, but I think it would have helped all of us in the group to appreciate and value this sister a little more too, since she is often overlooked. I really hoped to have her 'outed' as our worthy role model.

Ros was actually sitting with a bowed head next to the good sister who had spoken first, who answered my question with a shake of her head - as if she felt that naming Ros would have been inappropriate somehow.

When I spoke to Ros afterwards, to tell her that I appreciated her good example, and knew that she had made a real difference in the lives of many because of her good works, she let me read a thank-you letter that she had received from one of the ladies she visited. It was very touching and instructive to read and I wish we could have heard it read out during the lesson. I don't think Ros would have minded people knowing that she was the diligent Visiting Teacher being referred to.

I think that always acknowledging people in a positive way is very important. I wish it always happened.

What do you think? And why doesn't it always happen?

I Think I Get it Now!

Ulysses S. Grant said something like this:

"The way to pay off the national debt is to pay off the national debt."


You can hardly imagine how profoundly that struck me when I read it recently! A light turned on. Or was at least rekindled.

So.... If I want to have a perfectly spring-cleaned room, (I thought), I am going to have to perfectly spring-clean my room! ... If I want to get Abby's cushions sewed, I have to sew her cushions! ... If I want a new lounge suite, I have to get out and buy a new lounge suite!

You can see how well this works through just about every area of life!

At least, in theory... As in - I still haven't accomplished any of those things yet. But I can see the way to get there now :)

I do have a little bit of a sinking certainty that I am going to lose my tenuous hold on this particular piece of wisdom if I don't put it into practice before all memory of said ephemeral epiphany is past.

So I am going to go and do something now.



(Oh - and best to be aware that any concerted consideration of the above actually appears to cause demonstrable descent into avenues of alliteration and assonance.... Who knew? :)

Oscars again. Hmph.

What do you think of the Oscars?

For me it seems that somewhere along the way the less than 6,000 voting academy members seem to have moved firmly to the opposite side of a growing divide between them and the viewing public. I find it annoyingly arrogant! Of course there is the argument that the most popular movies and performances are not necessarily the most deserving (reference here, sadly, any number of silly, crass, unintelligent offerings). But surely the greater public are deserving of at least something in the way of a respectful nod?

I remember seeing some figures and statistics some years ago which indicated that Hollywood increasingly chooses to finance and make MA or R rated movies, in spite of the much greater popularity and money producing ability of G rated movies. Why do they do that? Why the desire to constantly 'push the boundaries' and shock the sensibilities of the majority of the viewing public, even in the face of clear evidence that a much better financial return can be expected from outlays toward movies that families like to see. What other gain is there for 'them' that is even more important than a financial one?

As for the Oscars - it seems that the more morally liberal the movie, the greater the support from the Academy, again in the face of obvious dissatisfaction and disagreement from the typical movie goer. To wit such raw and dismal offerings as, 'There Will Be Blood', 'Brokeback Mountain', 'Monster', etc, etc...

And then there are the politically rather than meritoriously motivated votes.. Perhaps Catherine Bigelow will win because her direction of 'Hurt Locker' genuinely deserves an Oscar win, (I don't know because I haven't seen it) - but I hope she doesn't win because of the Academy's desire to 'remedy' the 'embarrassing' deficient (actually absence), of a winning female director thus far in the history of the Oscars.

I lost virtually all respect for the Oscars when Russell Crowe failed to win the Best Actor for 'A Brilliant Mind', even while the film won Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actress. It's hard to believe that he did not deserve the award, since his performance was what carried the picture.

Do I sound too passionate about all this? :) It's only movies, and it's only awards, but it's the injustices that get to me..! If you are going to have an awards system, please let it be valid, and fair. And preferably what you and I can appreciate and relate to! :)

Daisy Hill and Angels

(BY THE WAY - I have changed the name of this blog to Daisy Hill. It seems apt. I live here. I'm heading there.. one day :) It makes me think of the song 'I'll give you a daisy a day, dear', and Neil, who always does. It sounds up, (challenges) and over, (the hill!), but pretty along the way :) It makes me think of my mother, who loves daisies. And Meg Ryan in 'You've Got Mail', saying, "Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"

Wow. And to think that all I was really thinking was that I didn't really much like 'Sandy Speak'!... lol xo)






I've been reading an autobiographical book by Elder F. Enzio Busche and would like to share with you a few passages:

(One day while working at the Church administration building, Elder Busche was told that there was an elderly German woman who wanted to see him. )
'I saw a woman who must have been from a respectable home and who was trying to be charming, but her clothing was a little ragged. Her manner did not fit her appearance.
'Her name was Sister Neuberg. She was a German convert.. I do not believe that she had ever married or had a job. She must have always been with her parents.. When they died, she was suddenly alone and did not know where to go. She was in her sixties or seventies. What she had to say was astonishing.
'She had $1,500 in cash that she wanted to give me for the missionary fund.. I was reluctant to take her money and asked her why she wanted to do that. She told me that she had talked to the Lord, and the Lord had told her the money was needed for poor missionaries; therefore, she wanted to give me the money..
'Why didn't she give it to her bishop? Wasn't she a member of a ward? She said, "Ah, yes. My bishop.. always gives it back to me and says I should keep it for myself, but he doesn't understand, and I don't want to confuse him. For years, I have gone to the temple grounds and given it to a person that I thought looked trustworthy. But then the Lord told me I shouldn't do that. He said I should give it to a General Authority who could give me a receipt and who would make sure the money went to the right place."
'She told me that she had told the Lord that the General Authorities did not understand German.. She said the Lord had told her that the Church now had a German-speaking General Authority, and she could go to him. She had asked the Lord what the name was and the Lord had told her, "It is Elder Busche."
Elder Busche was doubtful, but 'finally took the woman's money, gave her a receipt, and made sure it got to the missionary department.'
He was 'surprised when she came again the next year and the next. Every year, she came with $1,500..' He 'became more interested and learned to listen.
'She told me many things.. one day, she told me the Lord had told her that a big flood would come and there would be a river running down State Street in Salt Lake City. I thought she was a little deranged because we were in a desert. How could a river possibly run through the middle of the city?
'Of course, I was shocked when just a couple of months later there was a river running down State Street. It was the famous 1983 flood, which came practically without any warning. After that, I had more respect for what she said.
'One day, she was unsettled by a talk at general conference.. she said to me, "Yes, I went to the Lord and complained about that talk and that brother, but the Lord told me, 'They are all different, but they are all acceptable unto me, even the least among them is acceptable unto me.' So what can I do? I have to live with that and stop complaining and sustain them all."
'She told me one day that the Lord would soon take Elder Bruce R. McConkie to Him. That was before it was made public that Elder McConkie was sick. Soon after, I learned that he had cancer and then he passed away. I finally had to accept that Sister Neuberg had gifts and insights that were very unusual.
'Once when she brought the $1,500, I asked her where in the world she got the money. She told me, without any embarrassment, that she was making a special sacrifice because, she said, "I want to show the Lord how much I love Him and how much I appreciate His atonement for me." She went on to explain that her father had left a small endowment for her to live on. She lived in a little house where her parents had lived. She saved the money for the missionary fund by not using any utilities. She did not use any heating all winter but wore two big sweaters, a big coat, and a wool cap. She did not cook any meals but ate raw or cold food. She said, "It's only a small thing that I can do. The Lord has done much more."
'..She told me many events that did occur. She was very alone and had no one to talk to. I was probably the only person that she ever told some of the things in her life to. She said, "People don't understand me. Home teachers don't come to me because they are afraid of me. They all think I'm a little crazy and weird. But I like to have my visits from the Holy Angels. I speak with them and talk with them about the plan of salvation, and they give me comfort."
'She surely lived a different life than a regular person. Besides her frequent walks through Temple Square, she spent all day long reading the scriptures and other religious bookds. All were in German... her English was so broken that most people could not understand what she said.. I finally realized that I was probably the only living person with whom she felt comfortable speaking..
'She was always happy and enthusiastic about Christ and the beings from the other side of the veil. She looked forward to being with them and felt honored to be going home soon.'

____________


When I was younger I know that I was very critical by nature. I found that I sometimes hurt people, under-estimated and under-appreciated them. A few timely experiences in my youth helped me to learn that no good or joy comes from being judgmental of others. At least, I am still learning that lesson, but I believe it with all my heart. The scriptures don't tell us to judge one another. They do teach us repeatedly to love one another, then they explain what that means, in the verses that describe charity.

I honestly quake internally when I stop to wonder how many angels in rags (metaphorically) I may have overlooked or, worse still, have actually looked down on. I try not to do it.

I feel so grateful that Heavenly Father doesn't overlook anybody. And that He does bless the truly deserving and needful.

Further along in the book, Elder Busche also told of a recently converted woman who was visiting America for the first time, from her home in a newly opened Eastern European country. She told him of the poor circumstances of the members in her home branch, and of 'the many sacrifices that they joyfully made.'
'Then she said, "Once in a while, we have holy angels visit and comfort and strengthen us." She added with a smile, "Can you imagine? I have found people in Salt Lake City who have never seen an angel." She laughed as if that were the strangest thing she had ever heard.'

Truly, many of us surely live far below our potential for blessings.


(ps - Did any of you happen to notice the light reflecting off the book cover, just where the words 'Reflections of..' were printed :) !?
..hah,.. sometimes I think I am wasted on you guys... :)

Climbing mountains

Abby asked me about something today. We didn't have time to talk about it then, so I am writing it down now, in hopes that she might like to read about it. Enjoy your camp, Abby!

I only ever went on one school camp, that I can remember. It was when I was about 15 years old and in year 10. Our grade of about 300 students went to stay in cabin accommodation in the South Australian Flinders Ranges. The highlight of the week was to be a climb to the top of the highest point in the Ranges, St. Mary's Peak.

I was worried leading up to the day we were to make the climb. I was very skinny back then, and not particularly strong, and I was afraid that I might embarass myself in front of all the other students by being too weak to make it to the top. The teachers took us up a hill near our camp on the day before the climb, as a kind of practice. I remember making it only part of the way up before I sat down, puffing, feeling exhausted, and quite hopeless about my prospects for the next day.

The climb up St. Mary's began with a gentle walk for the first few kilometres. We were in single file, and I wasn't doing well from the first. I was about two thirds of the way back in the line of students and teachers, and failing fast. It didn't look as if I would get very far. So - I put on a big burst of strength in order to pass all of the people in front of me, until I reached the front of the line. Eventually, I was one of only nine people who made it to the top of the mountain, and the only girl to get there.

It was good to stand there on the peak and spend some moments enjoying the view. It was wonderful to know that I had achieved the goal, and had not dropped out along the way. Surprising that so many had. More than that though, I learned a lesson that has helped me out since that time.

I have no doubt that had I stayed back in the line, I would have failed to get very far. By getting out in front, the rest of the line just seemed to propel me forward, actually bolstering me with the strength I needed to get to the top. I realize that everyone is different - that perhaps line position would not have been so pivotal in importance to others. But it was for me. Why? It just seemed easier when I could see the goal ahead clearly, and did not feel that I was being held back by anyone, or that I had to travel at someone else's pace. It was easier to be succeeding than it would have been to be failing.

I was reminded of my experience with this some years later, when I read the story of 'The Five Dollar Lawn', as retold by Bishop Vaughn J. Featherstone in Conference, 1973. If you would like to read it the story is here:

http://emp.byui.edu/SmithS/GradingTheCountessandtheImpossible.htm

I really loved that story! It seemed to echo my own experience, and now my belief, that we have to aim for the highest and the best if we hope to succeed with the best of what we have in ourselves. That failure comes more often from setting our sights too low rather than from aiming too high.

I had a good brother in our Sunday School class last Sunday, question whether aiming for perfection is just too daunting for some. I think that not aiming for perfection is much more so! I believe that we are children of God, and that eventual perfection is our true and natural endowment.

To achieve that end, I believe in my heart that we need generally to ask more of ourselves, not less.

Susan Boyle and Onions

Tammy showed Grandma and me a youtube video of Susan Boyle a couple of days ago. You've most probably seen it, but if you haven't, here is the link -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wnmbJzH93NU&feature=related

There is also an old recording of her singing 'Cry Me a River' -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8r9lRJ6yHY

I cried. Everybody pretty much cries. It's so touching, and you feel like watching it over and over. Youtube videos of her performance have so far had over 60,000,000 views in just a couple of weeks, sparking a plethora of opinions as to why so many have been so affected by her.

Perhaps it's just so wonderful to have the experience of really 'seeing' someone. Not just for what they present externally, but to feel that we can have a deeper glimpse of who they really are.

It's as though we can hear who she really is when she sings. Suddenly then, we really see her. Realize, in at least a small way, that there is more to her than we had at first supposed. There's a feeling of wonderful joy that our eyes have been opened a little, bringing with it a yearning hope that perhaps it could happen more often to us, and perhaps even, for us.

I think that the tears come partly from shame, because of our own previous, little arrogance; partly compassion, because we know that pre-judgements, like ours probably were, have been unfairly relegating her to less than her due for her whole life, and partly from pure joy at the triumph of a sister and fellow child of God.

We are inspired that she seems amazingly able to disregard what is essentially unimportant about her own, and our own, limitations. She astounds us with her courage and her belief in herself. She teaches us, not only to see her but to see ourselves a little more as God sees us.

It is heartwarming also to know that so many others, from all over the world, have been affected in a very similar way.

There is a marvellous feeling of kinship in knowing that too.

Red, Yellow, White, or Blue?

I just took a personality test to find out what colour I am. I know. You'd think I'd either: already know that, or that I would have worked out by now that I don't need to know that. Or have better things to do. However....

I followed a link from Charettes blog. Charette, by the way, is yellow. Double yellow in fact. She wasn't happy about it, since it might seem to indicate a shallow personality. Here is how she was described:

"YELLOWS are motivated by FUN. They are inviting and embrace life as a party that they're hosting. They love playful interaction and can be extremely sociable. They are highly persuasive and seek instant gratification. YELLOWS need to be adored and praised. While YELLOWS are carefree, they are sensitive and highly alert to others' agendas to control them. YELLOWS typically carry within themselves the gift of a good heart. (There's more, but that's the basic gist.)"

Hmmn. Not completely admirable, but not too bad.

I should be so shallow! - I, dear reader, am red! :

"Reds are motivated by Power. They seek productivity and need to look good to others. Simply stated, reds want their own way. They like to be in the driver's seat ...reds value whatever gets them ahead in life. What reds value, they get done. They are often workaholics... They will, however, resist doing anything that doesn't interest them."

Hmph!

I do have, (seriously), an objection to this. (Reds are probably also always objecting to things... !)

The test directed that I must answer the questions (which were focussed on personality descriptions of myself), from what I can remember of myself as a child. It stressed that I had to describe myself as I was then and not as I am now.

It got me thinking. Surely I have changed a lot since I was 2, or 10, or 15. I hope I have. I hope that I am less concerned now than I probably was then, about getting my own way. I hope that I have learned by now to be more inclined to forgiveness; less inclined to take offence, or be judgemental. Less inclined to value the opinions of the world, and more anxious to value the opinion of God. More knowing about how important it is for us to help each other along the way.

If I haven't, then I don't know what the gospel is for!

Surely the basic tenet of the gospel is that we can change. Happily, joyfully, gratefully, we have the opportunity to change and the Perfect Pattern to follow.

I don't think the results of the test are important. It's perhaps a description of where we have been. I know that I need to effect a lifetime of change to get where I need to be. I'm actually ok about that :)

I am so thankful that, because of the Atonement of Christ, I can one day be coloured just right!

AND - Even though I know it's not important - I am interested in what colours you are? Here is the link if you would like to test yourself. If you do take it, would you please let me
know the results? :)


http://www.colorcode.com/personality_test/

I love a sunburnt country...

In recent weeks over 60% of Queensland has been underwater due to flooding. That’s a huge area.


At the same time, in southern Australia there has been a heat wave that has seen temperatures rise to as much as 47 degrees C, or 116.2 degrees F. I was worried about my mother who lives in Adelaide, and rang to ask if she was ok. She was fine, she told me. I wanted to make sure that she had the air conditioner on. Only a few hours a day, in the afternoon, she said. She wanted to put as little strain on the electricity grids as possible, otherwise they might have black-outs. She wanted to allow for those who might be keeping their units on all the time.


Then, just over a week ago, the bushfires began to rage down south, in Victoria… It’s expected that the final number of those killed will be around 300. About 1,700 homes have been lost.


People have been generous. Over $100 million dollars donated in the first week, with more flowing in every day. North Queenslanders who have lost everything in the floods up north, have been donating their own flood relief payments to the bushfire appeal.


I’m proud of my country, and my countrymen. I love Australia. I’m grateful to live here. I’m grateful for the beauty and the freedom. I love the space, the far horizons, the bush and the sea. I love the sound of the kookaburras and the didgeridoo. I love the people: the self-deprecating humour, the resilience and resourcefulness, the courage and the hospitality.


I’ve been in mind all week of the following poem. It was written by a 19 year old Australian girl who was staying in England at the time of its first publication, in 1908. The second stanza is particularly well-loved.


I’m also copying in an article I enjoyed this week from the news on the net. If I can work out how to do it, I will add some photos too :)



My Country - by Dorothea Mackellar


The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes.
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance
Brown streams and soft dim skies
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.


I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!


A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.


Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart, around us,
We see the cattle die -
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady, soaking rain.


Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine,
She pays us back threefold -
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.


An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land -
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand -
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.





Grief on our minds, strength in our hearts February 10, 2009 - Tony Stephens.


My people are a strong people. We pride ourselves on being practical survivors who get up and get on with the job. Every year we rebuild after cyclones and floods and fires wreak their havoc. We do this dry eyed, practically. But, as the horror weekend ended, an entire country cried today to look at the complete destruction of our country; an entire state burned with cities disappeared forever. Floods are destroying North Queensland. South Australia has had souring heat for weeks now, New South Wales has fires of their own, and yet they (together with New Zealand) are sending fighters to Victoria where the inferno is still visible from outer space, and smoke and ash can be seen stretching as far away as New Zealand.


"Happiness is beneficial for the body," Marcel Proust said. "But it's grief that develops the powers of the mind."


Yesterday, people with aching hearts and numb brains picked in the ruins of their homes for precious tokens of the past, asking questions of the future. Yet most could face the flames with good hearts, look despair in the face and push it to one side.


Worldly possessions could be bought and sold, they were saying. People were priceless. "Don't worry about me, mate," a man from Kinglake told a TV reporter. "I've only lost my house. The bloke over the road has lost everything."


Another man from Kinglake, having escaped what he described as "a war zone", laughed on recalling that his girlfriend hadn't wanted to leave. Another, who escaped with his dog and nothing else, laughed when offered a pair of socks.


A father laughed and cried on hearing that his son had driven a little tractor to Chum Creek to rescue his daughter and others, including eight children, from a house engulfed in flames. The young woman had calmly told a radio station that the flames were about half a kilometre away, but closing fast. Minutes later, she couldn't see for smoke. Then her brother arrived.


The awful images were beyond belief: the aerial photo of Marysville, the town-that-was; the solitary body covered with a blanket in the smouldering bush; the burnt remains of the Australian flag, with only two stars left, at Wandong; the melted car at Bendigo. Yet we still love this impossible land, even when appalling bushfires strike every few years, and when it is not drought it is flood; much of Queensland was still flooded yesterday, with crocodiles heading south. We love it even when, at times like this when fire demonstrates it has a mind of its own, the love is unrequited.


In the end, there was a growing sense of spiritual relief about this calamity yesterday, confirmation that Australia can come together to defend the common good.


The practical, no-nonsense willingness to lend a helping hand was most obvious in the bushfire fighters, who practised it to the point of exhaustion. Ageing men, with rivers of sweat running down deep lines on faces, fought alongside young men with earrings and young women with soot for make-up. Their character was more important than their pedigree.


The historian Don Watson says that while most Australians live in cities they still imagine Australia as a landscape. And, even though more people go to the beach than to the bush, the bush retains a pre-eminent place in the Australian ethos.


Russell Ward and other historians have said that the loneliness and hardships of outback life taught the value of co-operation and brought a more communitarian or collectivist outlook. The flag of mateship is unfurled at times like this, when confronting adversity becomes part of the national story.


People learn at times like this. They learn about the power of nature, for example. How could you outrun a brutish blaze that moved at 120 kmh?


They learn about their own strengths and weaknesses, and that it is all right to take a look at something that seems right now so inconsequential as cricket on television, because firemen fight fires, cricket followers follow cricket and each group keeps a respectful eye on the other.


They learn that human beings on the whole are resilient creatures and that the majority will get on with their lives, perhaps a little wiser.


They will build again what has been destroyed, mend what has been damaged, and nurse broken hearts and minds.


My people are a strong people.