She hath wings

Learning to soar above life's storms

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I have enjoyed writing poetry since childhood and I am hoping to find a wider audience on my blog. I am inspired to share the hope that I have while letting the reader glimpse the ups and downs of my journey.
  • It’s Not Your Song

    It’s Not Your Song

    I cannot get it out of my head. It was a little phrase carefully placed in the sermon last Sunday, referring to the well known masterpiece from Le Miserables, ” I Dreamed A Dream”. A very familiar song which I first heard as a young teen, I have sung it with much emotion over the years and appreciated hearing it performed by professionals who could move me to tears. However, it is not my song. The words are not true for me, not will they ever be.

    My family had loved ones torn away, we were thrust into a permanently uncomfortable limelight and we were sent into a tailspin, but we are still standing, by the grace of God. My health and strength was altered permanently with the diagnosis of CFS in my final year of highschool. Hope cannot be killed.

    As Christians, we believe that we will see our loved ones again. We know that the reality of brokenness that we live through will not be the ultimate end. One day Christ will wipe away every tear.

    This week, the world was shell-shocked by the death of Charlie Kirk, and its sadness far more reaching than our own story of grief. Little children, not even of school age yet, lost their Daddy in the most horrific way. Yet Erika is still standing. Of course she will have to work through trauma and grief upon grief for the rest of her life. Death was not the end though. Hers and Charlie’s dreams were founded on something more rock solid than circumstances can steal away. Life was senselessly wasted but God can and will restore hope, as it is based on the truth of Christ’s resurrection and His saving power, not a popularity vote or  success measured by human hands.

  • To Rosie, With Love

    To Rosie, With Love

    On this day, one year ago, I took Rosie to the vet for the final time, knowing that it would probably be my last goodbye, and having prepared the kids for that devastating fact. Four years earlier, she had been diagnosed with thyroid disease and in the months and years that followed, the cost of keeping her was very difficult. The vet suggested rehoming her and I was resolute. There was no way; I would find a way to keep her and give her the best life she could have.

    Portia, as she was formerly known at the RSPCA, had already been rehomed at the tender age of three, and within two months of bringing her home, she had survived pancreatitis. I had unknowingly triggered symptoms through training her to use the scratch post with Friskies. She had to be on antibiotics and then go on special diets for the whole time I owned her after that.

    She would live comfortably and she would always know, I would look after her. Even as I watched her lose almost 20 per cent of her body weight in just a few months, she still found ways to connect with me. Right up until the final weeks, she could still chase an inanimate object across the floor. She would bop me on the head to say “hello”. She had at least four different meows which I learnt to interpret. One was to beg to be let outside, one was hunger, another to announce her presence when I walked nearby, and another one greeted me at the front door.

    Holding her one final time was so heartbreaking. I felt like a traitor. This time I wasn’t able to save her. It was likely that she had experienced a stroke and also had cancer. She couldn’t walk properly or jump anymore. She had been off her food for four days. I had waited eight years to have a pet once I lost my old cat and Rosie settled in to my home with ease. She wanted nothing more than a warm lap, a gentle tone and someone to love her. She loved to be patted and cuddled close to my heart.

    To help the children in their grief, I laid out some pieces of paper next to some flowers and asked them to record their memories of Rosie in the first week after she was gone. This meant that they would not have difficulty remembering them as the years went on, and we could keep her memory alive. Later today, the kids and I will read them together.

    We miss you and love you Rosie-Rose- one of the sweetest cats that ever graced this planet. 

  • For the One Who Calms the Storm

    Reblogging an old poem that still means so much on my journey.

    From my heart came a cry, Which You helped me share in words; When I was weak and crushed, You helped me recognise the storm. Not from You, but for good- You allowed this storm to come; Though it damaged, You restored, As I came to rest in You. Many lessons to embrace- Some still […]

    For the One Who Calms the Storm

  • Footy Time!

    I’m headed to the footy tomorrow with E-man; first match I have been to since he was in Auskick, a junior football program. E-man and I used to head into the city on a regular basis when I didn’t have a car every day, and spend hours there including travelling on trains and buses to and from the city. I’m so excited to be making this journey tomorrow that I am cooking up a storm! Brownies with toasted slivered almonds and Anzac slice, because it’s way faster than making the mixture into biscuits. No outside hot food can be brought into the match, so we will enjoy some delectable snacks instead. What are some foods you take to sport matches? Do you cook or do you buy food there?

    This is the last game before the finals, so it’s going to be a good crowd and it won’t hurt to get there early.  Having a toddler means that I don’t get to go out and do these things very often, so I will feel the relaxed not having to look after him but I will miss his adorable ways. A-A, as he sometimes still calls her, loves the footy too, and it will be her first match with Dad next year.

    I’m pretty sure I know all of the AFL rules now but it won’t really matter; E-man will be sure to let me know them all. He doesn’t miss a beat- he lives and breathes footy. He will be likely to record every detail in the match booklet and chat about it in detail all the way home. Hopefully this will be one of those memories we talk and laugh about for years to come. I couldn’t be any crazier than the fans E-man and his dad saw the most recent time they went to the footy!

    Some very passionate Bulldogs supporters!!!

  • Groovy Shoes

    I don’t know what it is, but I have always had a boost when I buy a pair of smart and comfy shoes. Perhaps it brings me closer to remembering Dad’s business attire and successful work days. Perhaps it just reminds me that it is ok to spoil yourself sometimes.

    Today I spent just over an hour buying outfits for events I need to attend next week and the last stop was shoes. It was the final place I needed to go in the outlet centre before finding a coffee shop.

    I gave the shop assistant advice for exactly what I needed and after being only his third customer of the day, my purchase lifted his spirits. I love when people lower their guard and engage in a bit of small talk. I’m scared off by the overly personal, but this guy had the right balance.

    We joked about the music style that had kept me in the store, the music he would need to overcome his four hours of sleep, the need for his girlfriend or a benevolent passer by to bring him a strong coffee and the rapid pace in which I had decided on my boots.

    Today’s purchase was a pair of truly groovy shoes. Not just a department store, get-me-through- the- next- month kind of shoe. No- every time I put them on,  these shoes will remind me that it is going to be a good day!

  • When The Door Didn’t Slam!

    Tonight I made an observation that gave me (and the plaster on the walls) hope. My teen actually hugged me, accepted my apology for chiding too much and… didn’t slam the door.

    Projectiles were thrown earlier (I’m getting better at dodging them!) and I got called an idiot and a moron but… the door wasn’t slammed. It was truly a win tonight.

    Yesterday he had finished writing one of the hardest pieces of writing he will ever have to craft. He did it so well. I believe it was cathartic. May it influence the right people and help him too. Afterwards there was calm. He had been heard.

    How often do we as parents, think we have to say everything first. My teen has a lot of great things to say, but it has to be his timing. I’m learning to overlook the insults and smile that I have been noticed in the room, not just the screen in front of him.

    Celebrate the wins. Door open- that’s a bonus. Door not slammed- it was a good day!

  • I Still Believe

    I Still Believe

    Over the years, many films have moved me to tears, but only a handful of movies have gone one step further, touching my soul. I Still Believe, is Jeremy and Melissa Camp’s story. Something stirred within me with regards to the trauma of the past five years. Lockdowns, profound losses and very low points, forgetting who I was at times. Wondering what was the point of having interests and growing abilities if I didn’t get opportunity to use them.

    There is a moment in the film where the character who plays Jeremy has a major turning point towards hope. Watch it and let me know how it affected you. The impact on me was that I sensed God say, “Go bigger! It is time to write that book”.

    Let nothing stop you. Don’t let anything rob you of your joy. Embrace disappointment as a stepping stone to growth and a fuller life as it leads you to new things. Thankyou Jeremy for the story behind the song. I still believe…

  • Not Forgotten

    Monday marks the anniversary of the day we saw a great unravelling in our family. The most disturbing news came to us piece by piece, in relatively quick succession. I held a newborn baby in my arms in the early hours of the morning, when the trauma turned to disbelief and shock and temporary almost- paralysis in my limbs. I was meant to be putting baby back to the bassinet after a feed, but I couldn’t move.  Later that day I would make a spontaneous request of a close friend to drive me some distance to say another goodbye, stuck in a nightmare I still, to this day, can hardly believe. She selflessly minded my one month old with a bottle while I sat in a room and waited with others. I hadn’t barely processed watching my own father pass away; I couldn’t bear to watch the final minutes, no matter how much I wanted to be be strong enough this time. Later, I passed my beautiful baby around to those who needed tangible solace. What a gift on such a dark, dark day.

    The next day, the family needed to get out and to have some sunshine, so we went to one of our familiar haunts. The playground was closed, the car engine wouldn’t start and moods slumped further. Roadside assistance came and we were back on our way, with Mum taking the older two to a different park near our house. More ominous news came and I decided I did not want to be alone at night with three kids including a newborn at that time. I packed some things with hubby’s help, then got in the car before dusk with baby, heading to Mum’s where I stayed the night. By the time I went to sleep, it was all over. So began one of the darkest, life-altering chapters our family will ever go through.