Birthday poem

A friend wrote me this poem for my birthday. It's not a hearts-and-flowers birthday poem; it's gritty and real and hopeful, and very insightful. I like it a lot.  He has asked to remain anonymous.

(For more information about the title of the poem, read here and here.)

Asterion

Is there a chart for the scars of the past?

The house-bound monster longs for sacrifice.

Shall the fearful child be free at last?

The wisdom of your guide is unsurpassed,

But homeward, will the verbal thread suffice?

Is there an art for the scars of the past?

What now can break the fatal spell it cast?

Will sorrow grown familiar still entice?

Shall the anxious child be free at last?

Asleep you find the mutant child, the outcast,

Hidden in the centre of your strife.

Is this the start of the scars of the past?

The secret battle rages over the vast

Maze of memory, exacting its slow price.

Will the awkward child be free at last?

Returning, change the colours at the mast,

Celebrate the gift of unexpected life.

There is a balm for the scars of the heart.

May the hopeful child be free at last!

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God made me crazy

Some months ago a friend of mine started seeing the same counsellor I see. As my friend doesn't drive I offered to take her there for appointments, and her sessions are generally in the evenings so we have dinner together at my house beforehand. We've also just completed the Anxiety Management course I mentioned a couple of weeks ago.... all up my friend and I have spent quite a bit of time together recently. Tonight I remarked that the great thing about this is that we've got to know each other a lot better, which I think we've both enjoyed.

I feel sure that God had a hand in pushing together two friends with similar insecurities into a situation where they can support each other and have fun too. Isn't that great? God made me crazy so I could make more friends! Hehe. (It's okay - you're allowed to laugh. God has a great sense of humour. Truly.)
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Healing words

Thank you all for your comments on my last post - both the comments on my blog and those that came to me via email.  I appreciate them more than I can adequately express.

I'm not sure I made it very clear that my last post was a positive one. Well, the background information was negative, but the fact that I'm feeling the tiniest shred of something that might one day become compassion towards myself is... okay, it sounds like not much but believe me it's a big deal, and a very positive step in the right direction.

But back to you all... you "faceless internet identities" who've never met me in real life. I'm a stranger to you, right? Why should you care? Why on earth would you be supportive? And yet you are NOT strangers to me, even though we have not met. You DO care and you ARE supportive - time and time again, and in wonderful ways that I could not have expected. You have become my friends and I am blessed.

So I'm taking your comments to me from posts in recent weeks (plus some from people who know me for real) and I'm writing them here as facts. I don't believe them all yet, and maybe I won't for a long time, but I am kept strong by the fact that you believe them.  My belief in myself is shaky but I am hanging on to your belief.  So here goes...

* I have an amazing way with words
* I am courageous, strong and vulnerable
* I am a great woman
* I have a strong faith
* I am part of the Body of Christ
* I am precious
* I am a woman of compassion
* I am loved by God
* I am God's creation
* I am special
* I am worthwhile...

Thank you, my friends. When I come to believe these things it will be, in part, because you believed them first and helped point me towards the truth.
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"He's a faithful guy..." (an SMS exchange)

You know how sometimes people say really simple things but it's just what you need to hear?

Me: "I'm a bit over the counselling thing this week. When does it get easier? I've had 2 years non-stop of 'hard'..."

My friend: "It will get easier, it has to, but before you get to the good parts you have to go through the mire. Maybe. I'm no expert. But I know God and he's a faithful guy. He'll look after you."

Yep.
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Bravery

I've been meeting up with a couple of friends every fortnight to pray and chat about how we're going. It's been such a blessing to us as we've all been dealing with some major things recently and have appreciated the mutual support and love.

Yesterday when we met I talked about how I've been going with counselling. One of my friends said, "I think you're very patient and very brave." That was a lovely thing to say and I was touched to hear it (even though it doesn't feel like that from my side)... but I couldn't help thinking that I'm just a little bit over the whole bravery thing now. What I'd actually like is for someone to say, "Look, you've been very brave and you've done really well... but we'll take over from here. You go have a lie down and eat some chocolate and relax."

I don't think that's going to happen, but hey - a girl can dream!.

Perspectives

I met a new friend recently. NOT just a new friend; a fellow West Wing fan - these things are important! As it turns out we have some other things in common too, including the fact that we're both dealing with the effects of some ugly stuff in childhood. Our stories are not the same by any means but there are some common threads.

I was around at her house on the weekend to watch some West Wing... we got through half an episode (I know - and we call ourselves fans!) and spend most of the evening chatting instead. At one point my friend asked how long I'd been seeing a counsellor. I said it's been about 18 months: 10 months with Bad Counsellor and 8 months with Good Counsellor (yes, that's how they're designated in my head). My friend said, "You're amazing. You've come so far in such a short time!"

This threw me entirely for a minute. Let me give this some context... I would estimate that there are about 1 in 5 counselling sessions where I say things like I never expected to be in counselling for this long; I feel like I'm doing something wrong because my progress is so slow and half the time I feel like I'm going backwards; I feel stupid that I talk about the same things week after week and don't seem to be getting anywhere; and I feel like I'm never going to feel any different from the way I feel now. So to hear someone say I've come "so far" was surprising. It reminded me that most of the time I have very little perspective about any of this. Often I feel like I'm approaching counselling from a reactionary stance. Things come up and I talk about them; and while I'm dealing with the Crisis Of The Week I forget to look and see how the thing I'm dealing with RIGHT NOW, that seems like the only thing in the world, fits into the bigger picture.

You all know I hate using the word 'journey' in relation to counselling and healing, but (yes, I'm going to do it) I'm afraid I can't escape the fact that it IS a journey. If I don't look back occasionally at where I've been then I get caught up in the urgent and start thinking I haven't taken any forward steps at all. Similarly, if I don't have at least some idea of what 'better' looks like it makes it very hard to work towards getting there.

I don't know that I want to use the word 'amazing' just yet, but it was good to get someone else's perspective. I have a long way to go and most times I have only the vaguest idea of where I'm going anyway, but in all that I shouldn't lose sight of how far I've come.
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The Greenhouse Effect

Firstly, thanks for your kind words in response to my last post. I'm still feeling a delicate shade of pale blue but at least that matches my eyes.

Now, back to the vegetable obsession temporarily. Last night I had friends over to my house to dinner and as we sat around in a contented haze of post-burrito repleteness I lamented the fact that my vegetable garden is being eaten by beasts unknown. I casually said, "What I really need is a lean-to greenhouse, only made with screening instead of perspex. I can't get one though because they're hugely expensive and I'd have to get it custom built since I have such a tiny space for the garden." The husband-half of my friends said, "Well, I could build it for you. It would be easy. Where's your tape measure?" Apparently, he builds stuff. I had no idea. Before I knew it he'd measured up and drawn plans. Wow!

It will look a little like this one, only without the sloping roof, and of course it won't come out so far from the house because I only have one metre to spare. I expressed concern that it might be a problem that I rent (and therefore can't undertake any building projects) and he said, "Don't worry, it will be attached to the house by two tiny screws and when you move you can dismantle the whole thing and you won't even be able to see where the screws were."

I am SUPER excited about this. He estimates it will cost about $200... as opposed to the $900+ dollars for the cheapest commercial one I could find. It probably won't happen for a couple of months but I'm content to wait... and in the meantime I'll start planning my winter garden.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - my friends are awesome.
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Ironically, A Tale of Two Cities (from whence cometh today's post title) is one of the few Dickens novels I didn't like and didn't bother to finish... but it's a handy quote to use as I think about the best and worst of 2008. In the true spirit of ending posts on a positive note, I'll start with...

The worst of 2008

Depression - this one is obvious, and it's a mixed bag. Jumbled together with this, in the spaghetti bowl that is my psyche, is the ongoing and often exhausting work of recognising and dealing with the effects of long-term abuse. The depression itself was in fact a symptom of not dealing with all those things... and wow, depression is not fun. June to August was a bad time for me and I'm sure it wasn't helped by the fact that it was winter. Winter is NOT my favourite part of living in Melbourne!

House hunting - I spent Nov/Dec 2007 and January/early February 2008 looking for a new rental home. It was a horribly degrading, tiring experience. I spent a lot of time traipsing around on stinking hot days looking at house after house. Real estate agents generally open rental properties once only, for a 15 minute inspection. If you don't come to the inspection you are not allowed to apply for it. If you DO come to the inspection, you are one of 50 or 60 people looking at the place. If the place is even remotely habitable and you decide to apply, you are then one of 50 or 60 people applying for the place. Of those, there are probably 20 or so candidates who fit whatever criteria the landlord and owner have in their heads. After that, it's just a game. The real estate agent might shortlist you, or they might not. Once they have a shortlist (usually 3 or 4 candidates) they take it to the owner and the owner chooses one. Their choice is based on... whatever they feel like, it seems. In some ways I was at an advantage because I have neither children nor pets, but also I was working part time and that was a definite disadvantage. I didn't apply for any place I couldn't afford but there's no doubt that someone earning $60K seems much more attractive to landlords than someone earning ~$37K. And regardless of how clean, polite, rich etc potential tenants might be, many real estate agents treat renters like scum. Sadly, the rental market is so tight that we are at the estate agents' collective mercies so it's not like we can rebel against the treatment. So yeah... house-hunting was a definite low start to the year.

Counselling - this item will appear on both lists, but for the 'worst of' list I am referring to counselling sessions with my previous counsellor. It wasn't all bad, but there came a point where I realised she had gone beyond the point of not helping and was making things worse. I feel it's no coincidence that my depression continued to get worse while I was seeing her (as she repeatedly told me I wasn't depressed and just needed to force myself to do things) and then started to improve once I stopped seeing her and found a new counsellor who was better suited to helping me. The period where I was becoming more and more depressed and was getting more and more frustrated with my counsellor was a very difficult part of 2008.

And now on to...

The best of 2008

Depression - no, really! Obviously the depression itself was horrible, but reaching that low point was the catalyst that enabled me to seek help and start to face up to things in my past... and that's the beginning of getting better.

Counselling - sometimes I hate it, but for the most part it's been so very helpful to me (once I'd changed counsellors). I'm on the road to healing and wholeness, and that's a great thing.

My home - after the nightmare that was house-hunting, I was offered this place. It's not brand new and it's not glamorous, but it fulfilled every single item on my wish list/prayer list in terms of size, features, suburb, storage space etc AND it was $50pw cheaper than every comparable place. My home has been a haven to me and I'm very happy here.

My job - I am the Office Manager in a medium-sized Anglican church. "Office Manager" is a bit misleading since no one else works in the office except me, but there you go, that's my title. My job also involves acting as PA to the minister. I work 4 days per week, ostensibly 28 hours although it's usually more. I have an organised mind... okay, borderline OCD... so this is a perfect job for me. More than that, though, I simply love working in a church. Well, I love working in that church. The other staff (minister, assistant minister, children's and families worker and one volunteer who comes in once a week) are all great; and the parishioners for the most part have been simply wonderful - loving, welcoming, helpful and fun. It's not a high-paying job, nor it is high-stress or high-powered, but I've had those high-everything jobs and they didn't make me happy. This job does, and that makes a very big difference to my general enjoyment of life.

My home group/Bible study group -The people in this group are simply a gift from God. They've been a wonderful support as well as being heaps of fun. I continue to be enormously grateful for their love, their prayers, their wisdom and their humour.

Blogging - more specifically, meeting new bloggy friends. You know who you are. Getting to know you a little bit and interacting on your blogs and via e-mail has been a real high point for me. It's also made me blog more... that's a high point for me but I can't guarantee it's a high point for anyone else!

God - no matter what else is going on in my life and no matter how I feel, God is good. He is infinitely loving, faithful and downright awesome... and He loves me.

So that's my year. There have been ups and downs but that's what makes us who we are so I wouldn't change any of them. Okay, except maybe the horrible house hunting experience... anyway I'm looking forward to what 2009 will bring.

A different kind of Christmas

I've just had the first Christmas where I didn't see a single member of my family. I'm interstate from the rest of my family and I opted to stay put this year (which caused its own hassles, but that's a story for another day). Generally in my family we all get together at my parents' house for lunch. This is fairly unusual in itself - I'm one of five kids and my siblings all have partners and children and/or stepchildren, yet the Christmas Day celebration is still centred around our birth family, not their own families. Of course they still have their own celebrations but the main shindig is the one where we all get together. Let me put this in perspective - my siblings are aged 50, 48, 44 and 30 (and I'm 38) and between them they have 8 kids/stepkids aged from 25ish to nearly 4, plus 3 (step)grandkids... yet up to this point no one has said, "Hey, we're a pretty big family in our own right - we want to have our own Christmas lunch this year. Maybe the rest of us should get together on another day." I find it kind of astonishing, really. If this continues it's entirely possible that my nephews will grow up and leave home never knowing what it was like to have Christmas lunch in their own home.

So this is what I was up against when I said, "Uhhh... guess what? I'm going to stay here in Melbourne this year for Christmas." My younger sister jokingly told me that I've RUINED CHRISTMAS... but then told me they've been wanting to have Christmas in the Philippines one year, with her partner's family, and she thinks I might have paved the way. Hey, that makes me a trailblazer!

My parents' real concern was that I would be spending Christmas alone - they just didn't get the fact that being part of a church means I would only be alone on Christmas Day if I went out of my way to be so. As soon as people heard I wasn't going back to Sydney I had about 12 invitations... and even if I hadn't had invitations from people I know, my church works very hard to identify people who'll be alone and to hook them up with families who can fit another person or two around their table at Christmas.

I haven't chatted with my family yet to find out what Christmas was like from their end. For me, it was incredibly relaxing. I suspect for many families, Christmas celebrations bring with them an undercurrent of tension. You're bringing together a group of people who have a long history together of the good, the bad and the very very ugly; and for many families, like mine, it's the only day of the year when you're all together in the same room. I keep in pretty close contact with my sisters but I only see my brothers on Christmas Day or if someone dies and we happen to be at the same funeral. This, of course, means that I also barely know my sisters-in-law. Christmas lunch tends to be awkward and slightly tense. My mother gets very stressed about the food preparation, my sisters spend a lot of time chasing after their kids and trying to stop them being maimed in drunken backyard cricket games, my step-nieces and step-nephews clearly hate being there because they haven't grown up with my family so we're virtual strangers to them, my brothers don't lift a finger to help with anything and invariably become drunk and very obnoxious, and my dad tries to keep everyone happy but usually ends up getting in trouble from my mother for... I don't know, breathing the wrong way.

Of course, there are great things too. We have a long-running contest about the Christmas crackers - we take turns buying them and there's always good natured rivalry about the quality of the gift inside the cracker, as well as the corniness of the joke. ("How do you get down from an elephant? You don't - you get down from a duck." Ar ar ar.) There is the tradition of walking down the road at night to look at the house with the truly horrendous, tacky Christmas lights all over their house and lawn. There is the unspoken agreement that at some point during the meal someone will hand my mother a paper napkin and say, "How did you make those elf shoes again?" (One year she folded the napkins into the shape of an elf shoe. They were very cute but by the following year she'd forgotten how to do it, and every year she tries and fails. It's fun to watch... yes, we're cruel!) There are lots of fun things and I was sad to miss them this year... but underneath all that I was relieved to enjoy a Christmas Day lunch with people I love, and to spend several hours there without anyone fighting, getting tense, getting stressed, getting drunk. I didn't even know Christmas could be like that. I'm not saying it was a Hallmark Christmas, but it was still pretty good and I came home feeling sated, relaxed and loved. It was a good day.
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Surprising question

It's my friend's birthday on Boxing Day - that's the day after Christmas, for those in America. His wife sent out a message the other day to say they were having a casual party on Boxing Day to celebrate his birthday. Yesterday after church his 16-year-old son turned to his dad and asked, "So, is your birthday party a surprise party?" His dad said, "Well, not anymore... what kind of a question is that to ask??" The son, in genuine confusion, asked, "What do you mean? [pause] Ohhhh... I get it!" [insert sheepish grin]

For the record, it was never a surprise party.

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Ice-creamy goodness

We had a cake in home group tonight for my birthday. Usually I'm the one who makes the cakes for birthdays and I often make a 'novelty' cake, like a tiny-teddy golf course for the golfer, a calculator for the accountant, etc. As it was my birthday the group decided I should have a break from cake-making, so much discussion ensued about who would make the cake and what kind of cake I should have. Eventually I asked for an ice-cream cake made by one of the sons of the couple who host the group. He's 16 and he's made these cakes before. It's pretty awesome - you scoop the ice-cream out of the tub, mix other delicious things with it and then re-freeze it in another bowl. For my cake he put chopped up Mars Bar in chocolate ice-cream, Turkish Delight in strawberry ice-cream and Crunchie in vanilla ice-cream.

It was a seriously delicious cake. However, being a 16-year-old boy, he didn't pay a huge amount of attention to the details when he made it... which resulted in ice-cream all over the floor of the freezer; and a cake that looked like this:

And yes, that IS a Barbie-Mate stuck in the cake. For some reason he thought that would be the most appropriate implement for cutting and serving it.

Who cares what it looks like? It was a GREAT cake.

Today is my birthday...

...and I'm taking this opportunity to say this to my friends:

I feel enormously blessed to have you in my life. Many of you became family to me when I moved interstate. Others of you are my 'family back home'... although you are scattered all over the world now. Some of you I have known for years but have never met in real life (thank you, internet).

You have supported me, encouraged me, helped me in practical ways, prayed for me, welcomed me into your lives and homes, and given me some of the best laughs ever.

My life is so much richer for knowing you and sharing your lives. You warm my heart and I love you heaps.

Being Christ to one another

Fragile soul
Battered heart
Aching wounds; a cry in the dark.
Rocky land
Blinding rain
Stumbling feet; a path of pain.

Fragile trust
Clouded sight
Guiding hand; shines His light.
Stormy land
Breath of air
Tender heart; a silent prayer.

Fragile faith
Tiny flame
Whispered hope; He knows my name.
Uncertain joy
Unknown land
Mustard seed; I take His hand.

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Fringe-dweller

I've written before about being unmarried in a very married world; and the way people in churches have trouble knowing how to treat me, and people like me. I didn't talk about my current church in that post, but for the most part I have to say I'm very happy there and I've rarely been made to feel like a freak for being unmarried. Sometimes it's unavoidable because people make assumptions about what my life is like and then act on the basis of those assumptions. And sometimes it's unavoidable because I might be having a bad day or a 'hating being single and feeling sorry for myself' day, in which case I'm going to take the most innocent comment in a negative way. However, leaving out bad days and clueless people, mostly I just feel like another member of the church community. No big deal.

Tonight, however, was different. We had our church AGM and celebration dinner and mostly it was a really nice evening. Good food, lots of people there, I chatted with a few people I hadn't really got to know before, one of my friends performed a song she'd written for the evening, there was lemon sponge for dessert (shhh... don't tell any of my Bovine Buddies). It was relaxing and fun. At one point during the evening they played a DVD of different activities that have taken place over the past year, and a slide show of photos. The slide show included a full five minutes of pictures of happy, smiling couples. That's fine; I have no problem with couples. However, they were the ONLY people represented. All the other photos were of events... the only 'posed' shots of people were photos of couples. Every single one. Sure, there are a lot of families and couples at my church - by far the biggest demographic - but they're not the only ones there.

Well, maybe that wouldn't have bothered me too much... until the person taking photos of the evening came up to our table. She took photos of all the couples on our table (ie, every other person at the table) and then walked away. Wow. Good way to make me feel like a fringe-dweller.

I know I'm not a fringe-dweller. There are no fringe-dwellers in God's family - we're all valued and cherished. Fearfully and wonderfully made. Loved children of the creator of the universe. Really, it doesn't get much more awesome than that. I just wish sometimes that people were better at remembering that.

Hollywood women

I went out on Wednesday night with a friend to see Mamma Mia. (I know - out in the middle of the week! I felt so grown up and hip and happening... although my use of the word 'hip' proves that I am a little bit to the left of 'up to the minute'...) Amongst the trailers before the film were trailers for Bonneville and The Women. I'm not particularly interested in either movie and I think it's largely because of the way they portray women's friendships. I realise this seems a little strange, given my previous post about women's friendships. There is a pretty big difference, though, between the friendships portrayed in these movies and friendships I have experienced.

The friendships portrayed in these movies, and others like it (eg, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Thelma and Louise, Beaches) are almost parodies of real friendships. Or perhaps it's real friendship to the power of 10. I'm starting to feel that my friendships are inadequate. I would certainly never be the subject of a Hollywood film. Let's see...

1. I have no friendships that have lasted over three decades
2. I have never nursed a friend through the last stages of a fatal illness
3. I have never been on the run from the law with a friend
4. My friends and I have never gone on a cross-country, coming of age road trip
5. I've never had to tell a friend that her husband is unfaithful
6. I have never confronted a friend about her drinking problem
   
7. I've never competed with a friend for the affections of a man

In Hollywood terms my friendships are shallow and pathetic. But let's look at what I do have...

1. Two friends gave me jobs cleaning their houses when I was studying and desperate for money in order to eat and pay rent
2. My friends cook meals and do grocery shopping for me when I'm sick; and I cook for them when they're sick or just plain tired
3. I pick up my friends' kids from youth group when they need a lift home
4. My friends and I watch episodes of the West Wing and Black Books together and enjoy the time spent just hanging out
   
5. My friends and I pray for and with each other
6. One friend risked our friendship by getting tough and telling me I was depressed and had to see my doctor
7. My friend's husband mowed my lawn last week because I don't have a lawnmower

None of this is worthy of a Hollywood movie, unless you make one of the characters a bitter, alcoholic, cancer-ridden amputee. Despite that, I know which friendships I'd rather have. I don't want to watch movies that make me feel like my friendships aren't real unless they follow a particular pattern. My friendships are real and warm and practical and loving and I will not allow them to be devalued by a Hollywood fantasy.

Predictive gobbledegook

I have a friend who doesn't like using predictive text on her phone - well, she doesn't mind it but she usually doesn't bother to change it when the phone chooses the wrong word.  She also types messages in a hurry and doesn't read over them so often it's a bit of a puzzle to work out what she's said.  Her new mobile has the ability to use a little keyboard rather than the number pad... she claims this will make her messages more intelligible.  Well, you decide - today's message said, in part, "have you got a date in mins for xwlebratong?"

Can't get it?  It was supposed to read, "have you got a date in mind for celebrating?"  I'm used to her messages being hard to understand but that one is a winner.

Perspectives

I've recently become 'friends' on Facebook with a few people from high school. These are people I haven't seen for 20 years so we exchanged a few catch-up messages... which, in my case, were two short paragraphs saying something along the lines of, "I left school, worked in a particular industry for many years, moved to Melbourne at the beginning of 2004 to go to uni, finished that, now work in a church. Not married, no kids.  Enjoying life."  In response to this (and it really wasn't much more than I've written here) one person described my life as 'adventurous' and another described it as 'exciting'.

I've described my life in various ways over the years and sometimes the adjectives are rather colourful, depending upon my mood, but I don't think I've ever applied the adjectives 'adventurous' or 'exciting'.  They're probably the last words I'd use, to be honest.  I don't know whether the people who used those words thought my life is boring and were trying to be encouraging or whether they genuinely thought it sounded adventurous and exciting.

It really is a strange thing to get someone else's perspective on your life.  It's making me think about what it looks like from the outside.

Neighbours

On Friday night I met my new neighbour. I live in a villa unit (like a smallish house). I'm in unit 1 and units 2 and 3 are behind mine on the block. My garage is physically attached to the rest of my house - it's at the back and shares a common wall with the garage of unit 2, but otherwise it's free-standing. We each have our own little backyard so there are no common areas. Mine is the front unit so I have a front yard too but the others don't. All three units are rented out, and they're owned by the same person and managed by the same real estate agent. It gives all the tenants a common bond to some extent... if we want it.

I've lived here since February but I've never met my neighbours other than to wave if we happen to meet at the letterboxes. Until Friday - I came home as my new neighbour was unpacking stuff from a car. I said hello and exchanged chit chat, then she asked me in to see her place (all three units are slightly different and mine is the largest of the three so I was curious to see hers). We had a little chat, I met her parents and another friend and then left. Today I came home as she was leaving so we waved in the driveway.

My doorbell just rang - it was my neighbour, letting me know she was going away for two weeks. She thought I might like to know in case I wondered why her place was empty just after she'd moved in. I asked if she'd like me to collect her mail, to which she replied, "Yes, that would be great."

I've just met his woman. (Girl, really - she can't be more than 25.) I know nothing about her and she knows nothing about me... yet it seemed perfectly natural to offer to collect her mail and perfectly natural for her to accept.

The last place I lived in Sydney was a block of units where most of the tenants and owners were older folk who'd all lived there for many years, so they all knew each other. When I moved in the real estate agent actually introduced me to Jessie, the lovely old lady who lived across the hallway and to Jack, the old man who lived at the end of the hall. Both Jessie and Jack were pretty much housebound due to frailty so I used to collect Jack's mail and occasionally buy milk etc for Jessie when I was going down to the shops. (They both had home help; I just offered to do stuff when I was going someplace anyway.)

Jessie eventually died and Jack moved to a hostel shortly after I moved to Melbourne, but I've never forgotten the experience of living there. We had very little in common - different ages, different lifestyles, different religious beliefs - but still we were a little community and we looked out for each other. I've missed that.

Pinata disaster

Remember when I made this cake for a friend's birthday? It's her son's birthday this week and he requested the same cake. He's 16 but not too proud to have a cake like that. Given my previous success, I thought, "Sure, I can do that."

I made the cake early so it would have time to cool before I started decorating. Oh, I should point out that I was also making a cake in the shape of a calculator for an accountant friend - we're celebrating both birthdays tonight at home group. (And yes, we are all adults but we like fun cakes.) So, one cake was in the oven while I decorated the other. Food colouring and lollies all over the place.

I took a break to watch Kenny's World and Spicks and Specks, then got back to the cakes at about 9.30pm. All I had left to do at that stage was make the chocolate shell. So I made it. It looked beautiful.

It wouldn't come out of the bowl.

I remelted the chocolate and tried a metal bowl instead of the glass one I'd been using.

It wouldn't come out of the bowl.

I remelted the chocolate, tried the glass bowl again and left it longer in the freezer before adding the chocolate.

It wouldn't come out of the bowl.

By this stage I knew it would never come out of the bowl, because melting and remelting chocolate changes the way it behaves, and it was well past the point where the chocolate even had the ability to do anything but stick like glue to the sides of the bowl. I knew that, but a primal stubborn streak kicked in and I had to keep trying. Even though I knew it wouldn't work.

By 11.30pm I was almost in tears and conceded defeat.

I'll have about 90 minutes free tonight though, before home group. Maybe I'll give it another go...

Update:
It worked perfectly tonight and I think I've worked out what I did wrong (aside from keeping at it even when I knew it was hopeless). Both cakes were a hit and I'm so grateful for the friendship of both the people for whom the cakes were made.

Hanging out

I spent the evening hanging out with friends tonight. Nothing special and nothing pre-organised, particularly - they sent me a message this afternoon to ask if I wanted to come over for dinner and a DVD. I brought my knitting to do while watching the DVD, if that gives you any indication of the informality of our friendship.

I see these friends twice a week at least, since we attend the same church and we're part of the same home group, and I eat lunch with them most Sundays after church at the local shopping centre. Still, there's something special about being invited into someone's home and family, no matter how casual the invitation. I used to have a regular dinner with them weekly or fortnightly last year but not this year because their lives got quite a bit busier... and I realised tonight how much I've missed it. Our friendship hasn't changed but somehow I haven't felt quite so much part of the family as I did last year.

So, it was nice to have that again tonight. It was a happy evening. God is good.