Happiness is...

... an avo, mayo and tomato sarmie with a cuppa coffee! I love lunch.

100 Things

It is my one hundredth blog today! So, according to blogging tradition, today's the day I share 100 things about me, you probably didn't know! Ready? Here we go...

1. Put on Madonna and I’ll be shaking my booty.
2. I had railway tracks (braces on my teeth) in high school.
3. My teeth are straight, but not pearly white.
4. I play the Piano.
5. And the fool.
6. I’m bad with money.
7. I collect shoes.
8. I love eating.
9. I love cappuccinos even more.
10. The sound of puking makes me want to join the chorus.
11. I lived in Germany for a year.
12. I speak three languages. If you count my terrible German.
13. I’m a blog-a-holic.
14. My favourite gift is anything that smells good.
15. My hair is actually grey.
16. I prefer it brown.
17. I can’t hit a ball. Moving or stationary.
18. “50 First Dates” is my favourite movie of all time.
19. Oprah is my hero.
20. I’ve never been able to do a cartwheel.
21. I am right-handed.
22. I used to play the guitar. And the organ. And the clarinet. And the saxophone.
23. Not all at once.
24. I’ve never broken a bone.
25. I can hold a tune, but I can’t sing.
26. I’m good at making deserts.
27. My first car was a yellowy-green Volkswagen Beetle (a 1970-something model)
28. I used to water-ski in my teen years.
29. I hate washing dishes.
30. My cellphone’s ringtone is “Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer
31. I’m afraid of heights.
32. The sleeping bag has to be zipped totally open, or else I get claustrophobic.
33. My favourite book is “The Sword and The Scimitar” by David Ball.
34. I have never read the Bible from cover to cover.
35. I should.
36. If my cat wasn’t jealous, I’d have at least six more.
37. My uncle used to call me Bones when I was a teen, cos I was so skinny. Those were the days.
38. I hate dieting.
39. I hate exercising more.
40. I used to ride a motorbike in high school and university.
41. I only figured out how cricket scoring worked when I was about 25.
42. I have really small boobs.
43. I want to get new boobs.
44. My mom thinks that’s crazy.
45. I love my mom.
46. Two of her sisters had breast cancer.
47. I have been the driver in two car accidents.
48. Only one of them was my fault.
49. I had a small business painting paintings, and doing portraits. It didn’t last.
50. I get bored easily.
51. I like squeezing pimples. I know! Ew!
52. I only have one sibling. She’s one of my favourite people on earth!
53. I’ve been to Spain on holiday. And New York City. And Paris. And London. And Namibia. And Kruger National Park. I love travelling.
54. I’m an American Idols-aholic.
55. When I was growing up, I was convinced I’d be rich and famous.
56. I don’t like wearing lipstick.
57. That’s probably why I’m not rich and famous.
58. I always carry a tube of germ-destroying waterless hand cleaner in my handbag.
59. I was once a member of a touring missionary team.
60. I have hair on my big toes.
61. Robin always tries to pull them out.
62. I have lots of really good friends. With and without hair on their toes.
63. I can’t wait for The Second Coming.
64. I like my eyelashes.
65. I love singing harmonies.
66. I acted in every school drama production, every year I was in high school.
67. I wasn’t good at it.
68. Which is probably also why I’m not rich and famous.
69. I would love to meet Charlize Theron and ask her why she dropped her South African accent.
70. I love being an aunty.
71. I would love to be a mom.
72. I don’t like gardening.
73. I’m a perfectionist.
74. It would take me longer to prune one bush, than for our gardener to do our whole garden.
75. I like to think I could do it better than he does.
76. If I won a million bucks, I’d buy us a new house.
77. Two of my closest friends died on two of my family members’ birthdays.
78. I studied Art at college.
79. I don’t like to be in people’s bad books.
80. Christmas is my favourite time of the year.
81. I leave the fairy lights up about three months longer than they should be.
82. There are always at least four books on my bedside table. And I am reading all of them.
83. I try to memorize every “goodbye” moment, because I may never see the person again.
84. I only eat chocolate on days ending in “ay”
85. I’ve only permed my hair twice. I looked like a bottle brush.
86. I will never perm my hair again.
87. My hair grows way too slowly.
88. My tonsils were forcibly removed from me when I was six. I am still traumatized.
89. Tulips are my favourite flowers.
90. All of my best friends live too far away. Like at least 500 km’s away. Which is probably a good thing considering the hairy toes thing.
91. I tried to smoke once. I almost died coughing.
92. I do not smoke.
93. I kept a diary for 8 years. Every day.
94. I burned all the diaries a week before I got married.
95. I love being punctual.
96. My husband doesn’t.
97. I’m not very patient.
98. I love my husband more than I love myself.
99. I praise God every day for him.
100. I believe God has a specific plan for me to find happiness in Him.

Moms who kill

I am shocked at the news today of the tragedy when a mom in Oak Hills, Texas, took her own life after hanging her three children! The baby survived. I guess it is just beyond my fathoming that someone could do this - and to children! Of course, I realize there is such a thing called Post Partum Depression, and extenuating circumstances, etc. but I also believe there comes a time when that person is still compus mentus and responsible for their actions, and that that somebody should seek help. What has happened in this incidence makes my blood boil. Perhaps I am a little more sensitive to crimes against children, what with our inability to have them and all, but this woman was beyond irresponsible. Am I overreacting? Is this not one of the most selfish tragedies you've ever heard of?

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I suppose us non-mommies - and I mean specifically those of us who can't have children, not those who choose not to have children - have a slightly more "critical" eye when it comes to parent's behaviour... and if I'm really honest, we like to believe that if or when we become parents, we would never do that! Which is, of course, totally stupid! Because until we're in that same position, how could we know how we'd react?

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Post Partum Depression is not an imagined condition. It is so very real and affects many many women. Unfortunately it is a silent disease. That is to say, not many people talk about it. And so the poor women suffer in silence, crying out for help to a deaf audience.

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I wonder if that woman in Oak Hills suffered from Post Partum Depression? And I wonder, would I excuse her beastly behaviour if I knew she had it? None of us will ever know what led her to do what she did. And even if we knew, would we I still stand in judgment of her? Would I climb off of my high horse and feel for her?

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I don't know. But I am just so angry saddened by it. There are so many of us who would sell our kidneys to purchase a baby (if it were legal, of course!), and then the lives of children are stolen at the hands of their own parents. It makes me so very cross.

Back in the land of the living

I feel like a bear coming out of hibernation today... four days without blogging has left me ravenous! Yes, I'm still a little sick, but nothing would keep me away from work today. Who knew blogging could be such an enormous incentive to come to work?

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I wish I had some interesting, funny tale to tell about my four days of enforced bed-rest. But alas! That's not to be. I had the most boring time ever. Slept most of every day away, watched movies I've seen before. Read a little. Ate whenever I really had to. (That's probably one good thing - I might have shed a kg or two... then again, little eating + v little activity probably cancels eachother out anyway. Oh well... a little wishful thinking never hurt anyone.)

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But something happened in Durban this weekend that's left all of us reeling. One of our most favourite restaurants in Durban, called St Tropez, was robbed at gunpoint on Saturday night. Unfortunately, robberies like that are not overly shocking for us South Africans anymore. It has become so mundane that most of us hardly bat an eyelash at "incidents". But this time, there were a few people shot and one of them, someone Robin studied with, was killed when he tried to wrestle the weapon from one of the criminal's hands. We are so shocked that something this horrific could happen to someone Robin knew and respected, at one of our favourite haunts.

The story has received mention in numerous newspapers across South Africa but the horror of it all is just how "close to home" crime has come. Every South African knows someone on a first-hand basis, whose life has been wrecked by crime. I can't even count on one hand the number of close friends and family we have who have been held at gun-point within just the last two years. It is shocking and disgusting that a family outing can turn into an horrific gruesome nightmare. Where can we go to escape it? It is nauseating.

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I don't know. I guess it's just so incredibly unbelievable that something this horrible could happen at a place we loved. A place we'd happily go to every weekend, if the opportunity presented itself. And to someone Robin knew. How very sad. It makes me long for the day we get to go Home, to the place God is preparing for us. Where tears will be a thing of the past, and where security guards, doctors, undertakers and lawyers will have to find a new profession. I can't wait!

Just call me Sicko

I have been sentenced to four days in bed by my doctor. Caught some horrible flu bug that loves to create havoc, and if I don't spend the next couple of days holed up in bed, it's just going to get worse. I've had a sore throat for the last couple of days, but you know me - I hate popping pills... Last night my chest started really hurting, so I thought, oh well... and now? See what I get for being stubborn. Four days in bed. I'd be doing the jig if it didn't happen to fall over a weekend! :o( Boo hoo... Why can't I ever be booked off in the middle of the week? So, spare a thought for your sicko blogger friend, will you? I'm going to bed immediately. See you on Tuesday. I think I'm going into blogging-withdrawal already...

More on Birthdays

I just found this really nifty thing over on one of my fave bloggity reads... Do you know what day you were born? Not date silly! What day of the week? Don't worry, neither did I. Wanna find out? Sure you do. Go and have a look.

Heart Stuff episode 2

A quick update... so, my mom and Aurette (my sister. I know - awesome name huh?) are still at the hospital. Apparently the doctors want to make doubly sure that the test results from her last trip to the cardiologist are 100%. Because today, all they've done are exactly the same tests they did a few weeks ago. In the doctor's surgery. And not in this hopeless hospital. So she's running on the treadmill, all wired up, and getting the echo testing, etc. etc. again. I feel like a deflated balloon. All that stressing about "the op" today, and now: zip. Nada. Now I know why Jesus said

"Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life... Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?...Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough troubles of it's own". Matthew 6 v 25, 27, 34

He knew all along there'd be no op today! So, besides my irritation at being all worried for nothing, I'm actually quite relieved! For today, my mom's ok! And she'll be home tonight. Where we can keep an eye on her love her and spend quality time with her.

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This whole "op" debarcle has made me so grateful for my mom. Have I told you before how much I love her? She's one of the main reasons why I also want to be a mom. She's so much more than a mom - she's also one of my best friends. I'm so glad nobody's going to be practicing their stitches on her today!

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While I'm on the subject of Thankfulness...

Here's my next most favourite "person" on planet earth. I adore her. And really, she is more of a person than a cat. She even talks to me. Every morning. Usually at around three a.m. when she wants me to know she's about to have breakfast. Needless to say, she's not my favourite right then... but by the time I'm up and about, with my cuppa in hand, I am adequately recovered to appreciate her adoration again. Isn't she the most beautiful little kitty you've ever seen? Oh, by the way, her name's Moon. Yes, Moon. We were given her and her brother on the last day of our honeymoon. We named him Honey. And her Moon. What can I say? We were young!

(Oh, and uh, yes, that was our bathroom... she loves keeping me company when I'm bathing.)

Robin's birthday

It's my hubby's birthday today. Funny that sometimes it takes a special day to prod us into taking stock of our blessings. Like birthdays. Christmas. And the Americans have Thanksgiving. I think it would be awesome if the WHOLE world celebrated Thanksgiving. A special day just to celebrate the things we are grateful for. Today would be Thanksgiving for me. I am blessed beyond measure to have Robin as MY hubby. Me. Somehow I landed this amazing man. He is everything and more than I could ever have wished for.

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I remember so clearly when we arrived home after our honeymoon all those many moons ago. I suddenly realized - Hey! I'm somebody's wife! and did what any new wife would do. I panicked. What did I know about being a wife? I remember bursting into big blubbing heaving sobs. Of course Robin responded like any new hubby would do. He dropped our luggage in his tracks, rushed up to me, wide-eyed, grabbed me by the shoulders and screeched "WHAT HAPPENED?" all the while looking left and right for any would-be weapon wielding intruder! haha. When the sobs subsided and Robin was convinced nobody was threatening me bodily harm, I whimpered "I don't know... sniff... how to be a wife!" I wish you could have seen the look on his face. Immediately the smile lines reappeared around his eyes, and though he gallantly attempted to keep the smirk off his face, it was there, lurking at the corners of his mouth as he said gently, "But Char, I didn't want to marry a wife... I wanted to marry you!"

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Looking back over the years I can see why God chose him for me. Besides the obvious. I mean, who could resist that drop-dead sexy exterior? It's the interior that got me. That naughty contageous chuckle. The way every kid we've ever met knows his name and loves to be near him. I love that he loves Jesus. He is always motivated. He stands on principal. He loves travelling. You can always expect sincerity from him, because it's his most natural reaction to every question. He is a fantastic friend. He's also my hubby. And for that reason, I am the most blessestest person on Planet Earth. And I'm happy to be the helper God created specifically with Robin in mind, and suitable for him.

The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2 v 18 NIV

How awesome is this God we serve? I stand in awe of Him daily. He meets our need more appropriately than we could ever anticipate. He knows the end from the beginning, and I am certain that if we were given the opportunity at the end of this world, to look back and choose for ourselves - we would choose no other path than the one He chose for us. One that is designed to bring us to places where we have the choice yet again to worship Him, or to walk away from Him. Today it's the easiest thing in the world to choose Him.

Mad Hatter

It's Sunday and I'm blogging! I love blogging! But as you know, I don't usually venture down to the office on weekends, so this is a bit out of character habit. But I just couldn't resist sharing with you something that made me SO HAPPY today. It's a new hat. One I bought for myself. Nothing like some retail therapy to put the spring back in your step, or the feather back in your cap. Here it is. My new fave thing on planet earth:-

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Baby Ban

You know what? I am sick to death of my whole life revolving around babies. Trying for babies. Avoiding the baby isle at the shops. Babies babies babies. And my inability to have them. I spend my free time hovering around other people's infertility blogs, reading books about fertility, how to make a baby, what infertility does to your spirituality, warra warra fish paste. I'm so sick of it. So, unless something enormous happens, I'm not going to be posting about babies again. At least not for a long time. Ok? There needs to be more to me than this. No more. I'm done. Finished. Finito. Philile. Xa. Finished en klaar. Over and Out.
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What will I be writing about? I really don't know! And that, my friends, is all part of this journey. I reserve the right to change my mind though. I am the writer of this blog, after all. I am also fickle. So, I might just be posting about another thing baby-related later today. Who knows? Right now, this very moment, I'm gatvol for it. So, adios all-things-baby-ish.

So many questions, so little time

I realize that I never answered any of your questions yesterday. It's a very long story, so I'll try to fill you in, without doing the whole shebang.

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The biggie, of course, when do we get our babe?

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Nobody can answer that. It all depends on the government, or more appropriately, who happens to be behind the official counter when you go to get forms / fill in forms / hand in forms, and whether or not they've had their coffee yet that morning. Basically that's what it comes down to. Tantrums won't help anything. So, yet again, it's a Waiting Game.

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Another factor is that apparently South Africa does not have a working relationship with Eastern Europe for adoptions into the country. What that means, is that Robin and I will have a social worker here, who works for an approved agency. We do everything with them, then they correspond with an American agency, and then the American agency corresponds with the Kaszaki agency, and we pay every agency their fees in their currency. It's a very long process.

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But even before that happens, it's The Screening Process. Which is basically where the social worker (in our case, Sheri) and her team decide whether or not we will make good adoptive parents, and whether or not we would be able to care for the child in all aspects - emotionally, intellectually, financially, etc.

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From start to finish, it could take anything between one year to two years before we become parents.

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What else?

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What I can tell you, is that I feel we are in very competent hands, with our social worker. She is friendly, kind, compassionate, knows the right people, comes highly recommended, etc. What I like most is that she's straight as an arrow. She tells it like it is. So, you don't get half-baked stories with her, leaving you wondering what the answer to your question really is.

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But, I really need to distance myself from it a bit. I feel suffocated by all the "if's and but's". And if you know me, I can't tolerate moping. Which is what I've been doing since the meeting. Without admitting it, I was sort-of expecting adoption to be a Quick Fix. And it's definitely not.

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And besides - why mope when I have so much to be grateful for? I have to consciously remind myself that I am too blessed to be stressed. Which should make me feel a bit better. But where the rubber meets the road - I'm still feeling really woe is me. I want to shake myself and say "lift your lip up off the floor, before you trip over it!" It just seems my inner reserves are spent.

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BUT on the other hand - I really believe that even this harrowing time will leave me more reliant on God. And if that's the only thing that comes from this, then that is sufficient for me. If after all this, we are still childless, I am determined that we will not be faithless.

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It's incredible to me how God sends me the right passages to read, just when I need it most. It reminds me that He really does know every thought that I think, even before I think it. I am greatly encouraged by this passage from Next Door Saviour by Max Lucado:-

Learning to Trust the Master

A man and his dog are in the same car. The dog howls bright-moon-in-the-middle-of-the-night caterwauling howls. The man pleads, promising a daily delivery of dog biscuit bouquets if only the hound will hush. After all, it’s only a car wash. Never occurred to him—ahem, to me—that the car wash would scare my dog. But it did. Placing myself in her paws, I can see why. A huge, noisy machine presses toward us, pounding our window with water, banging against the door with brushes. Duck! We’re under attack.

“Don’t panic. The car wash was my idea.” “I’ve done this before.” “It’s for our own good.” Ever tried to explain a car wash to a canine? Dog dictionaries are minus the words brush and detail job. My words fell on fallen flaps. Nothing helped. She just did what dogs do; she wailed.

Actually, she did what we do. Don’t we howl? Not at car washes perhaps but at hospital stays and job transfers. Let the economy go south or the kids move north, and we have a wail of a time. And when our Master explains what’s happening, we react as if he’s speaking Yalunka. We don’t understand a word he says.

Is your world wet and wild? God’s greatest blessings often come costumed as disasters. Some of you doubt it. How can God use cancer or death or divorce? Simple. He’s smarter than we are. He is to you what I was to four-year-old Amy. I met her at a bookstore. She asked me if I would sign her children’s book. When I asked her name, she watched as I began to write, “To Amy…” She stopped me right there. With wide eyes and open mouth, she asked, “How did you know how to spell my name?”

She was awed. You aren’t. You know the difference between the knowledge of a child and an adult. Can you imagine the difference between the wisdom of a human and the wisdom of God? What is impossible to us is like spelling “Amy” to him. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts” (Isa. 55:9).

I keep taking Molly to the car wash. She’s howling less. I don’t think she understands the machinery. She’s just learning to trust her master.

Maybe we’ll learn the same.

The meeting

There was total silence in the room where all of us couples (and two single women) gathered. There were maybe thirteen of us in total. All of us came with our years of infertility baggage in tow. You could say the room was rather crowded. I sneaked looks at the others, where we sat in a big circle, wondering who they were, were their stories similar to ours, were they feeling just like I was?
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It was a very weird moment. Because everything in me so did NOT want to be there. To be someone who needed someone else's baby. I could not did not want to identify with them. This wasn't in the plan. Surely I wasn't supposed to be one of them? Is this my reality? Waiting in line, with others, hoping someone might not want their own baby enough to keep it? Or might not be able to keep their baby. Whatever. Either way, my baby has to be provided by someone else's generosity / disaster / inability to cope. I don't get a say in when I get it, who provides it, or even from which country my baby will come from. This was not in the plan.
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But in the same breath, I realized, this was where I belonged. With others who know. All of us seated there have experienced the disappointment, the depletion of our resources, the denial and the eventual surrender to the reality of our circumstances.
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What a weird and unexpected place to come to terms with my reality. The notion that this might be a permanent condition had always lurked around in the most ignored regions of my semi-consciousness. But sitting there, in a circle, feeling those primal and raw emotions emanating not from myself, but from those around me... I really just wanted to run away. And then I realized, quite literally, that no matter how far I run, this infertility thing is not something I'll ever be able to outrun or eventually escape. It's my reality. And if I want a baby, really want one, then in that seat is where my butt belongs.
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I said to the lady next to me "How bizarre that I belong here!" And she nodded and smiled. And so did the lady next to her. And the one next to her too. Even as I write this, I can't quite fathom that this is it. This is the best possibility we'll ever have of acquiring the babe our heart desires. It's just so. Weird.
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I yearn to say to Robin like so many other normal people do, "Don't you think we should stop using contraceptives, and try for a baby?" and to know that two or three or even four months later, we'd have that Big Fat Positive result. But that's not to be, for us. I don't even remember the name of the contraceptives we used. It was that long ago. I almost want to kick myself for even using them. Like for that year we used contraceptives, we might still have been able to fall pregnant. And we wasted the opportunity. And now, we stand in a queue. Waiting. Which is, of course, the nature of the game. Nothing new to us. Except this time round, the decision and the responsibility of the decision is not mine. Someone Else decides if I'm worthy of parenting. Someone Else decides if our finances are stable or not. Someone Else chooses my baby for me. It's all Someone Else. It makes me feel helpless and like I need to beg that Someone Else to pick me! pick me!
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I feel robbed somehow. I feel angry again. And hurt. And like this is all wrong! This is surely not my life? Surely, someone somewhere made a mistake. It wasn't supposed to be me that is infertile. Surely? Surely, something can be done to change this? Isn't there some pill somewhere that I can drink that will magically fix my faulty plumbing? I sit there, in my comfortable chair, surrounded by others, just like me, wishing I could be anywhere else but there.
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And yet, I can't escape. I can't choose anything but this. My heart refuses me the opportunity for freedom. My dreams for the future have chained me to Hope. And I drag that Hope around with me, like some despised ball and chain.
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And so, we've opened the door. We sat through the meeting. We listened to the policies. We heard great stories from other people. We made contacts. We filled in forms. The ball is rolling. And I'm exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. I'm so afraid. Afraid that this is it. Our only chance. And I don't get to decide.

Still me - just better looking!

SURPRISE! I have a whole new face for my blog! I am so excited. Don't you just love it? I'm not posting long today, as I'm sitting in an internet café here in Johannesburg, but I'm all smiles on my dials. Today I got a facelift for my blog, AND today I get to hear all about adopting my babe from Russia. Or Kaszakstan. Or Bulgaria. Or some other country which speaks a language I can't understand. Yippee! Life is GOOD!

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By the way, for those of you who are wondering - there's a really groovy designer who designed this new look for my blog. Her link is below right under "credits". Go have a look.

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I have to go now. My bootie's shaking so much I'm struggling to type. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our trip to and from Joburg and what I've learnt about my babe. C ya.

P.S.

Just as a by-the-by quickie - you know I've been going for the Ozone treatment every day? And it's supposed to help me (a) fall pregnant (b) lose weight (c) detox... Well, I'm very pleased to announce that I have lost three, yes, THREE kg's since I started the treatments! (That's 6.6 pounds for you guys who don't speak metric.) And I have not been (a) dieting (b) exercising or (c) avoiding all the yummy foods. On the contrary, we've been stuffing ourselves enjoying all our favourites lately. I just thought - shucks we're under such a lot of stress with the business and what not, I'm not going to still add to the stress by watching every morsel that traverses our digestive tracts. In fact I've even had two cappuccino's this week. No wonder I seem to be coping ok!!!

Tomorrow

I'm blogging early today. I guess the excitement of tomorrow's big appointment was a good alarm clock. But now that I'm dressed, perfumed, hair brushed, and seated at my computer there's very little I wanna say. Except WOoooooo HHOOOoooooooo! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're only a day awaaaay... Who'd have thunk a trip to Joburg and an evening spent in a meeting could produce such excitement! Well, don't ask me how I'm going to get any work done today. Thank Goodness I work for family - and they're shaking their booties too, so I'm in good company.

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An update on Robin's business. Still striking. Robin? Still taking enormous strain. But, at least he has tomorrow to look forward to. That's at least something. As for me? Shucks, if it were ever possible to wish one day away, that would be me today.

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Robin and I have been chatting on and off about all the possibilities this potential adoption might bring us. Like - what if we have to choose between a boy or a girl? What would we choose? Right off the cuff I'd like to say "Nah, we have no preference" but I secretly do have a preference for a little girl. It's weird, but I'm certain little Jodi-lee would have been a girl (and the chinese calendar also said so, so I guess that makes it certain. Haha!) and I set my heart on it, without really saying so. So, if they say, "do you have a preference?" we'll probably say no, but if there's a choice, we'll go for a little girl. A little hunny bunny. Robin's just adamant that they mustn't give him a photo album and tell him to pick one. Haha. Of course that won't happen (at least - I hope not!). And I want to know, how long does it take before we can go and fetch our baby? And what if they reject our application? What then?

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I really need to have a plan in place for that horrible possibility. This is our last chance. What if they say no?

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OK, I'm talking myself into a bit of a tizz here. I'm getting all nervous and stressed out. I need to think positive. To (I shudder to even say it!)... Hope. I'm so scared of hoping again. It's a terrible place to be. Living on Hope. My history of hoping always results in disappointment. I guess the track record's not great. So, perhaps today I should just tune out all my worries and immerse myself in my work. Maybe I should take Jesus' advice?

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." Matthew 6 v 25

It really is easier said than done. But I'm going to try my best to listen to Him. He knows what's best, after all.

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So guys, spend some time on your knees for us, will you? We'll be back home on Thursday, so you'll hear from me then ok?

Best weekend ever!

This past weekend must rate as one of THEEEEEE BEST weekends we've ever had! It's impossible to even begin telling you just how much fun we had... I think the best thing I can do is just load pics of everything we got up to with the kids. Because words will never do it justice.

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We took the church children away and the kids we took stole our hearts. They were so grateful for every thing done for them. The night we arrived, one of our assistant pathfinder leaders had to show some of the kids how to sleep with bedding. They didn't know that you actually sleep between the sheets. This was so shocking to me! Their families are so poor that children sometimes sleep three to a bed, and all share one blanket. To arrive at the dorms and find not only one blanket, but also two sheets, two pillows and a duvet per bed (with spare blankets in their wardrobes) was so intimidating for them, that they just lay on top of the bedding. One little boy (about 9 years old) was having such difficulty falling asleep in his bed that he approached one of his friends and asked if he could sleep head to toe with him, because he wasn't used to sleeping alone in his bed, without his brothers. Way to make my heart bleed!

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The first night we arrived there was a warm meal of pasta, vegetables and ice-cream for dessert waiting for us. One of the boys there said he never knew you could eat so many different types of food at one meal!

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Oh how God blessed us! Spending time with those kids, most of whom were seriously underprivileged, put things into perspective for me. Mother's Day weekend is usually the worst weekend in the year for me. Going away with this group of kids was so life-changing that it turned into one of the most memorable weekends of my life. This was the first Mother's Day since 2002 that I can say without hesitation that I enjoyed EVERY moment, and that I didn't feel like I was crushed and devastated and heart-broken. This Mother's Day held promise for me. I awoke feeling energised and excited and exuberant. Besides having such a ball with the kids, just the idea that next year I might actually BE a mommy - well, there's nothing like that feeling.

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How incredibly blessed I am and so grateful to my Jesus! In just two short days, we will start the long process to adopt our babe from Russia. Wooo hooooo! Even while I'm typing this, I feel like shaking my bootie.

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So anyway, I could write so much more but I still don't think that anything I write could quite capture our time away with this incredible group of kids. Have a look at some pics.

Thursdays

My favourite day of the week. Yesterday the gardener was here, making our garden look beautiful. And today my maid is at work, making my house all sprinkly clean. Tonight it's Date Night. Just me and my hubby. We have a standing arrangement. Every Thursday night. Sometimes just coffee at one of our fave coffee spots, sometimes a full meal somewhere nice. But always something. The whole world could fall apart around us, but we'd still keep our date. Because, truth be told, we actually really need to reconnect with eachother at least once a week, without interruption. I must admit - I love Date Night. The best thing about it is that I don't have to cook, or clean up afterwards we can just sit someplace quiet, and take some time out from the hubbub to appreaciate eachother again. It's great!

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It kind of reminds me of the day God created just to rest and spend time with us. A day He knew we'd grow careless and forget. Which is probably why when He gave us a set of instructions to live by, it was the one instruction with a "Remember" at the start of it. Wow! A God who loves us so much that He actually created one whole extra day!... Just for us to worship Him! He probably knew we'd need it. Daily devotions wouldn't cut it. He loved us so much He really wanted one whole day, every week, for us to commemorate His divinity and creative power. And to remind us of our place: Created. For His purpose. Isn't that the kind of God you'd like to worship? One who wants one whole day a week to spend with you? Rather than that "Bette Midler" type of God who watches us "from a distance"?

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Man, if only Date Night could be one whole day too! The two most important men in my life. One day for God. One day for my hubby. Now that would be two cherries on my small cake.

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Scriptural References:-

Genesis 2 v 2,3

Exodus 20 v 8 -11

Matthew 12 v 8

Matthew 28 v 1

Mark 2 v 27

Mark 3 v 4

Mark 6 v 2

Luke 4 v 16

Luke 23 v 56

Acts 13 v 44

The Waiting Game again

I woke up this morning to a horrible thought. And then I realized it's not a thought. It's me. I'm infertile. I really am! It's not a half-hearted attempt at looking for attention. I must really be infertile. This past Easter was officially five long years of trying to have a baby. Oh well. That just reinforces our decision to adopt.

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But I must admit there are a few scary thoughts that run around in my head every so often... like what if I've become so used to my life as it is? What if the idea of being parents has become so much nicer than the reality? What if I relish the quiet, orderly life we lead so much that having toddlers running around my home screaming and creating disorder actually freaks me out? I must admit, I'm getting scared. It's a huge responsibility. Parenting. Someone is going to give ME a baby, to become MINE. I won't be able to walk away when I'm frustrated. Or sleep through the night. Or laze in bed all Sunday morning, lost in the latest novel. Days of quietude will be a thing of the past.

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And you know what? I can't wait!!! I can't wait to have little handprints on the teevee screen. I can't wait to wake up to someone calling for me. I can't wait to go shopping in the children's department. I can't wait for the sloppy wet kisses and the chaos and tripping on the toys and wiping that little face clean with a wet wipe. I can't wait for pushing the pram through the mall. Negotiating my way through the aisles, pushing a pram in one hand and lugging the shopping trolley behind me with the other. I can't wait to sing "twinkle twinkle little star" and struggle to get the shoelaces tied while they wriggle and squirm. I can't wait to pack the snack-pack for church every weekend. I can't wait for the dedication service. And our first photo shoot. And for hearing Robin playing with them outside while I cook supper. I can't wait to hold our baby and watch it sleep in my arms. And to know, this little baby, it's ours. For ever.

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I can't wait. But the truth is - we have waited. Are still waiting. And will continue to wait. As long as it takes.

May's Maybe's

A bunch of you have been asking about the Angus anointing. As with All Things Preggy Related, it's a waiting game. As I understand it, Mr Buchan doesn't usually take personal appointments with people. If someone wants to be anointed, then you must go to wherever he'll be preaching next. Apparently his next local (KZN) preaching appointment is on the 20th of May in Bergville, which is about 2 hours drive from us. So, we'll probably be going to spend the day in Bergville in two week's time.

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I'm going to see if I can twist my mom's arm to take her along, because do you remember about two months ago we had to rush her off to the emergency room in the middle of the night? Well, after a thorough investigation by a cardiologist, they have decided to send her in to a special hospital here in Durban (see how God looks after His children? The right hospital is right here in our city!) where they will be doing some or other procedure to lazer a portion of nerves on her heart that are malfunctioning, and the procedure will take place on the 23rd May. She told me the name of the procedure, but my memory's shot (see? Menopause???) and I just can't remember what it's called. Hhmmmph. So, I figure Angus could pray for her too, while we're there. More people praying could never hurt. I'm quietly so anxious about this procedure. I guess it has something to do with the fact that there's nothing we can do about it. She's going to have this op. It's going to happen. And we don't even get a say in what the doctor will be eating for breakfast that day! Leave alone whether or not he washes his hands properly before he enters the surgery. It's a bit scary that we're entrusting the life of my mom into the hands of a surgeon we have never even seen!

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So, May's turning out to be quite a big month for us!

11-13 May: taking the church kids camping for a weekend of fun

16th May: our first appointment for adoption from Russia (meeting in Joburg)

20th May: Bergville for Angus thingy

22nd May: Robin's 32nd birthday

23rd May: my mom's op

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As with all things, I am reminding myself that whatever happens, God has only our best in mind, and has a specific plan for each of us to find happiness in Him (Jeremiah 29 v 11-13). I rest assured that no matter what, we'll be ok. God and I, I mean. I took a decision recently that I would serve Him. And I mean it. As long as we're on lil Planet Earth, we can expect Satan to fiddle with our happiness. But in the end, God is so much bigger than any problem we might face. And I know He carries me in the palm of His hand. My mom too. And so I will fear no evil. (Psalms 23 v 4) Nor worry about tomorrow. (Matthew 6 v 25-31)

"Surely they may forget,
Yet I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands..."
Isaiah 49 v 15, 16

A far cry from my younger days

Alas! After my extensive research (see left!) I think it's safe to assume I have entered menopause.

Sweet revenge

When we were still trying to fall preggy, I subscribed to one of those newsletter thingy-me-bobs that would send an email to you once every week or every month or so, telling of new discoveries in fertility treatments, and tips on how to achieve pregnancy oh-so-easily. Mmm... clearly that worked very well for us.

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So, anyway, when we fell pregnant, I unsubscribed to those fertility ones and subscribed to pregnancy related newsletters instead. Needless to say I spent HOURS poring over every detail in those newsletters. Don't you know you could never go through pregnancy without knowing every single ounce of information currently available? Likewise miscarriage, blah blah blah. When we had our miscarriage, I once again unsubscribed to those preggy newsletters and decided anything preggy related was taboo for the time being. Did not want any newsletters appearing in my inbox, whatsoever.

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So, imagine my horror when a few months ago (on our due date) I received bunches - and I mean bunches - of emails congratulating us on the birth of our daughter (that's what the chinese calendar said little Jodi-lee would have been) and sending me vouchers to use on their websites. As if that's not enough to send me teeter-tottering over the edge, almost every month since then I get emails saying "by now, your baby should be doing such and such... blah blah blah" and this after I've sent hundreds nay, thousands of UNSUBSCRIBE requests. Baskets.

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Way to get my blood boiling. I have already conjured up every imaginable method of torture for those webmasters idiots. What a pity I'm not computer savvy. One of my most favourite contrived instruments would be a virus for their hub. One that would fill their inboxes with spam. Loads and loads of spam. Loads and loads and more loads and even more loads. And the cherry on the cake? A "you have new mail" message that sounds every time a new spam message registers on their system. Ahhhh... sweet bliss. That would be justice.

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Please excuse me while I savor my smug imaginings. And delete yet another blasted newsletter from my inbox.

Fat is as fat does

One groovy side-effect of the Ozone Therapy is (supposedly) getting thinner. Well, I could use some of that, that's for sure. I don't know - since I started trying to eat like a vegan (I say like a vegan cos I don't really consider myself a vegan yet... still trying my best though!) - the first week or two I dropped a few kg's... but since then, I've been getting podgier and podgier again. It might be that I put three heaped teaspoons of soya milk in every cuppa chicory I drink, and I have about 3 or 4 cups a day... so, that works out to... um, 3 x 3 = 9, yes 9 teaspoons (heaped, mind you) of soya milk daily. And that's if I only have three cuppas. Maybe I should go slow on the soya milk. That should do it.

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So, anyway, about this dodgy podgy situation. I think I might be reaching early menopause. Something to do with turning thirty-two twenty-seven, and all of that. Reaching mid-life and getting that mid-life spread. I'm not kidding! Seriously. There's this not-so-welcome tyre that's decided to move in and settle around my waist. Not to mention all the flab dangling off of my arms. Ew. That's my pet peeve. OH! and have I told you about my square butt? It used to be pert. Now it's port-ly.

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But I digress. What I wanted to address was menopause. They don't call it menopause for nothing hey. Men-no-pause. I'm not saying I'm a looker or anything like that, but in my younger days it wasn't unusual to turn a few heads. Hard to believe, I know. But now - shucks! Even if I wear lipstick, which is like seriously dressing up for me, not even a second glance in my direction. Thank goodness for my spiffy hubby who still thinks I'm hotter than the Namib.

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But also, aren't night sweats a symptom of menopause? I get night sweats almost every night. I wake up and my nighty is drenched - especially around my neck area... and always around the same time of night too. Three o' clock it's pull the duvet off the bed and replace with a lightweight comforter time. And then at about quarter to four, fourish, it's grab the thicker duvet time again. Every night. My poor hubby. He doesn't even wonder what I'm up to anymore. He just lies very still, so as to avoid being whacked by the duvet when I'm shaking it out over the bed.

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So, what's with this menopause thing? I think I should do some research. Any info from you guys would be very useful.

Hope, that horrible hairy monster

You know, I don't even know why I'm doing this, but I'm doing it anyway. I can't even really tell you what I'm thinking when I'm doing it, except maybe that I've tried everything else, why not give this new therapy a bash too. I'm not even hopeful that it will work, so even that's weird. Usually, hope creeps up on me when I'm not expecting it (haha! "expecting it!" What a bad pun!) and drags me back into it's hole. But not this time. This time I'm just going through the motions. Oh, did I mention I'm doing Ozone Therapy? Mmm... I might have overlooked telling you that, what with all the commotion going on in our lives right now. So, anyway, here's a pic of me enjoying the Ozone Therapy. Today was my second session. I must go everyday for ten days. Apparently. And it's supposed to help with fertility. Apparently. I honestly don't know why I'm doing it. Haven't a clue. Because I think the last time I smacked hope in the face, I might have done some serious damage to it.

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Out of the mouths of the babes

Who needs tv when my nephew, lil Ethan, is around! He is the best comic relief available. Just the other day at church we had a lay preacher lead the service. In addition to the children's classes before the main service, there's a special time set aside in the service for a children's story. Of course, the kids love it! Ethan included. So, this particular instance, the lay preacher (let's call him John, for lack of a name) told the children's story. Unfortunately, John, although a really great preacher, aint so hot telling stories to kids. One might say he's a tad high-folluted. After about four or five minutes of yawning story-telling, he gave the kids an opportunity to answer a question. And this is where he found himself completely out of his depth. No problem for Ethan. Three-and-a-half year old Ethan grabs the microphone and says very clearly "You're wasting our time now!" It took about two seconds for that statement to finish echoing around the speechless assembly. Thereafter the entire congregation broke into rupturous guffaws. Needless to say, the children's story came to an abrupt end, with the old folk struggling to keep their false teeth from clattering to the floor through their chortling. Poor old John. I'll bet he won't be telling a children's story again in the near future.

"But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 19 v 14 KJV

If church is this much fun here, imagine Heaven one day! I can't wait.