Fluff

As you can tell, this week I am taking a break from all things serious and concentrating on some of the whimsical fluff that flits about my head from time to time.

I forgot I had an OzSale Membership, so when I remembered I spent a bit of time browsing the sales there...

And may have bought this:

 And this.....

From Rising International who source their fair trade handmade garments from Nepal. They're 100% cotton. I am a wee hippie at heart, love this stuff and adore the colours. We Melbournians don't wear enough colour (says she who is predominantly in black and grey today). 

Looking at those sleeves I see there's a little scope for taking them up and there are no cuffs to bother with so it will just be a case of lopping a couple of inches off and hemming them. No biggie. I can do that myself. Chances are, I won't though. Strange thing is that I have gotten used to sleeves being longer than my arm so when something is taken up it feels too short. 

Can't get away with it with pants though. At all. That would just look stupid. 

Yep...that's pretty much what happens when you're 117cm (3'10") and you buy a pair of jeans.

The reason for Saggy Pants.

Ever wondered why guys go about looking like this?

Because they want to look just like us!

I always knew we were pretty cool. It's just taken a little longer for the cool people of the world to realise it. Ha!

Roll on summer!

You want to know something? I miss summer something fierce. 

My girls swimming in a friends pool.

Delicious summer fruits in rainbow colours

Bleached grasses. 

The windy jetty. 

Walks along the beach encountering impossible things.

Even the dog becomes a sunworshipper. 

Get back to work....or....just get a job!

So word on the streets, and around, and about.....well, everywhere really is that our esteemed government is bringing in hefty changes to our welfare system so that they can reduce the national deficit.

That's the way I understand it anyway. I'm not going to pretend I'm au fait with all things political but I do know that the Australian Welfare System is under heavy scrutiny and the fallout is not going to be pretty. From where I stand it looks as though the rich are pretty much going to stay rich and the poor, the battlers and the disabled are going to have to be the people who suck it in and bear the brunt of these cuts.

It's most certainly not going to be in your favour if you're young, unemployed, seeking work, disabled or elderly that's for sure.

The two areas that raises concern for my loved ones are the reviews of the Disability Support Pension and Newstart Allowance. Every time I hear these mentioned in the news these days my ears prick up and my heart drops. None of the news I hear is positive and the demonising language that is being used in the media to describe recipients of DSP in particular is extremely hurtful.

The President of People With Disabilities, Mr Craig Wallace stated:

“Headlines like this one talking about people with disabilities as rorters, bludgers, slackers, slouchers, that kind of language that we have seen over the past couple of months, reduces and trashes and destroys the brand of people with disabilities to employers. I say right here, we are not rorters, we are not slackers,” (Source)

I couldn't agree with him more.

In short though, from what I understand from the review into welfare, the government simply wants people with a disability to get out there and get a job. If you have some capacity to work, then you should be working. Plain and simple, right?

Wrong! It's all well and good to talk about getting people on DSP out into the workplace...but is there going to be an accompanying change in attitude from businesses in regards to actually employing people with disabilities? There are people with disabilities out there who want to work and try long and hard to find suitable employment to no avail. They actively comply with their Participation Agreement with Centrelink with no rewards.

This issue is particularly close to me because recently, someone I love finally got word via their Job Support Agency that a large, national company had agreed to employ them for fifteen hours a week according to the stipulations Centrelink had set. This person was so eager and happy to finally gain employment. They worked hard and stated that they enjoyed the work they were given. Most of all, they were thrilled to be out there in the community, earning a living, interacting with fellow employees and the general public. They came home fulfilled and satisfied.

Then the Budget happened.....and along with it came the cuts to support funding for companies who employed people with disabilities. Two days later, the young person was told that the large, national company could no longer employ them due to the cessation of the employment support funding. To say that the young person was devastated would be an understatement. They said to me that they would even work for FREE if the company would let them - just to be DOING something, contributing to something bigger than themselves, being amongst people, was enough.

Don't tell me that people on DSP are rorters, bludgers, slackers and slouchers. How many politicians in Canberra would say that they'd be happy to work for free just so that they could feel as though they were contributing something to the community?

I have never known an Australian government so out of touch with reality, so uncaring of it's people.

So we sit and wait to see what is to become of us...and while we wait the chasm between the rich and the poor stretches wider and wider. I worry about the future of our country and it's people. I really do.

From where I stand.

This morning I caught a particular scent in the house. Chloe said that it had been in the house yesterday too. It was the unmistakable scent of my grandmother who passed away in 2009. When I caught that scent in the air it was so comforting. I'd like to think that Nanna has just popped in for a bit; checking up on us. I know it's not something she would have believed in when she was alive but I'm of the belief that there are many things that aren't certain and none of us can presume to know the ins and outs of what happens after we die.

It's a comforting thought anyway, the thought of Nanna popping in once in a while....

Thoughts of Nanna for me inevitably lead to thoughts about faith and religion and it's role in my life. The religion I grew up in and the faith I now have are at constant odds with each other in my heart and mind. I find myself often contemplating and musing upon aspects of the "truth" I grew up in and the faith I experience on a day to day basis. Nanna played a very big part in my "religious history" which is why memories and thoughts of her are usually linked in with contemplations of faith.

Caught up in the heady fervour of the Christian Revival Crusade in the 60's and 70's I think my Nanna may have taken on my diagnosis of achondroplasia as a bit of a challenge and subsequently, a mission. I do have a vague recollection of Nanna telling me that when she was talking to someone about the healing ministry of Jesus, that person challenged her with the fact that I was born with dwarfism. How was she to explain that? Could Jesus heal me?

Not to be deterred, my Nanna took that on as a challenge and prayed fervently for me to be healed. As I grew older I remember being taken to the front at various churches, asking the pastors to pray for my healing. I was even taken to a Billy Graham Crusade in the city once, to no avail. This did not deter my grandmother. There was always a reason as to why my miraculous growth spurt wasn't forthcoming - "If we really believed we would have bought "normal" clothes to bring her home in."

Bless you Nan!

These thoughts flit through my mind from time to time when I catch my reflection unexpectedly and notice my body shape. It seems to be happening more frequently these days as my body becomes leaner from all my training and I notice more of my bone structure and the different lumps and bumps that Nan would notice and sometimes poke. It's not a negative or hurtful thing, just a thought that flits across my consciousness that demands to be acknowledged. I'm in no way resentful that Jesus/God didn't heal me; in fact Jesus, God and me have a pretty respectful relationship these days. But when I had children and actually needed some of that healing power for them for some pretty intense situations, I lost the plot. I wasn't asking for miraculous growth. I wasn't asking for something insignificant that they could live without. I was asking for my babies not to have to have major corrective surgeries....and yet heaven remained silent...and I had to faithfully hand each of my children over to surgeons. The number of times I railed against God, shook my fist at the heavens and told God I hated him....

It's a wonder lightning didn't strike me dead.

Somewhere along the line though I think I came to the understanding that perhaps my view of God and His ways were maybe more than a little left of centre...which weren't entirely my doing. Slowly, gradually, gently I started to let everything go and allowed myself the freedom to discover a faith that was entirely between God and me, independent of any corporate worship centre. As I did this I discovered a newfound acceptance of myself, my condition and everything that I'd ever experienced. I found peace.

Over the years I have witnessed some pretty out there stuff, all done and said in the name of God. During the 1980's I became terrified of having to go to church. I'd start feeling anxious on Saturday night, knowing that on the morrow we would be going to church...and there would be there for TWO HOURS...and there was no way of knowing what would happen. Sometimes the preaching would make me think that there was evil out there all around me and if I wasn't careful it would take me and possess me and I'd end up being one of the scary, scary people up the front being prayed for while I shook and screamed as the evil tried to hang on to my soul. Evil was in the rock music I listened to, the wind chimes I would hear, the rainbow flags I would see waving sometimes, the movies in cinemas....and in the hand of the boy I loved.

Evil and wrong and bad and sinful is what I was when I had sex before marriage and ended up pregnant. Shame followed me everywhere because I was told that all these things were not God's plan for me and for it all to be right and blessed and good it had to be done this way and because it wasn't done this way there were a number of hoops to jump through to make it all good and right and proper.

What made me hang on to that religion? I can't tell you. Sometimes I liken it to an abusive relationship where the one that is abused stays in the relationship because to leave would be even more terrifying. Better the safety of the familiar and predictable than the uncertainty of the unknown. The religion I grew up in seemed to make a life of faith so much more complicated than it was ever meant to be. So many rules, so many expectations, such pressure to perform and be dedicated, particularly to the local church family. Be there every Sunday and at Growth group midweek, be involved in a ministry of some sort and attend all the meetings involved with that and tithe 10% of your income.....plus offerings. I gained employment at the Christian School affiliated with a particular place of worship and it was there where everything came tumbling down for me as I came face to face with the dysfunction of so many who were held in such high regard as examples of the Christian faith. To this day I remain affected....as do others I love.

So I left.

It took a while...and I did go back from time to time to try things out again....but eventually I stopped going to any place of worship where there was a formal gathering of people in the name of God or Jesus. I can even remember thinking on that last Sunday morning, "I can't do this anymore," and I quietly rose from my seat and left.

Image source

And that's the thing...I wasn't giving up. I had just had enough of doing things the same old way, the way I had been led to believe was THE right way. To their credit, the place of worship I went to just let me go. There was no pursuit, no follow up as I was accustomed to. Just release...

I will always be grateful to them for that.

So....where do I stand?

Maybe this is my own statement of faith.

God exists. I cannot shake that belief. I believe in the Creator. How it all went down, I don't know....but I do believe that Spirit was in the centre of it all.

Jesus was a pretty cool example of how to do life as an awesome human being. I read accounts of his time here on Earth and He sounds like Someone I would enjoy hanging out with. No judgements of anyone, except pointing out to those who set themselves up as the righteous ones that THEY were the ones with the problems. The more I read about Jesus, the more I like Him.

Everything else is pretty much open to interpretation. If Jesus didn't specifically address it, then it's an unknown and who am I or anyone to make that call? Love everybody, help others and do your best to live peacefully. It's as simple as that. I see a lot of people of all kinds of faith....and sometimes with no faith.....doing that. I believe God gives that stuff the big thumbs up.

I never was wrong, bad, wicked, evil or sinful. I was just a young person trying to find her own way in the world. Achondroplasia just happened...and that was okay. My little body is beautiful and acceptable and RIGHT just the way it is.

I loved someone....and that was beautiful....and it was always beautiful and it deserved to be celebrated even though events didn't happen in the "acceptable" format. I don't expect celibacy before marriage of my young people. I believe in love and honesty and the celebration of love in whatever form that takes.

Life is good. I am filled with peace. I am filled with more peace and love and joy than I ever experienced going to the place where I was told I would find it.

Fingers in all the pies!

Image source

An alternative title to this post could be..... "Like A Kid In A Toyshop"

Life seems to be offering up an amazing number of opportunities for me at the moment. Maybe this is because I'm now on the look out for new things and I'm closer than I've ever been to working out what it is I like doing.

On one hand there's the simple life, which is slow and....simple....filled with crafting and baking and cooking and all things homely.

My current crochet creation.

On the other side there are ALL THE THINGS! And ALL THE THINGS has everything to do with creativity, getting out there, getting our voices heard and our artistic expressions expressed.

It's in the field of ALL THE THINGS where life is tossing opportunity and possibility at me left, right and centre. So many things to do, so many opportunities to take and run with. The trouble is that each one of them has the potential to hurl me into a creative future that I have found myself longing for for such a long time; and each one of them is something very dear to my heart so I really do want to do them all.

I've always wanted to dance - I'm participating in dance workshops with Weave Movement Theatre and look to be a part of the ensemble putting on a production in the 2015 Melbourne Fringe.

I've been asked to be part of a show that Quippings will be putting on in the Spiegeltent.

I once tossed around the idea of having a radio show and becoming a DJ - I'll be starting an Introductory Radio Course with 3CR next week and joining the team at Small Talk .

It's all on.

As a result I can't shake that there's something for me just around the corner. I'm almost there. I can feel it. I can taste it. I can smell it.

Not kid proof, sorry!

We had the pitter patter of little feet in our house yesterday. My daughter's friend and her husband asked us to look after their two girls whilst they went out for the afternoon. We eagerly agreed.

Barbies, puzzles and pencils moved in and made themselves at home.

What a joy it was too! I've missed having little ones in the house. Don't get me wrong; I've relished every single moment of my children growing up and I simply love the amazing relationship we all have now they're adults...but there's just something about little children that awakens the sense of exploration and discovery in all of us.

Bubbles are a source of joy for everyone.

Little ones are full on. I forgot about that. Maybe they seem more full on than I remember because it feels so long ago. I found myself sayingm "I can't remember you guys ever..." several times over the course of yesterday.

Then again, there were things my lot weren't able to do at the ages of five and 18 months either. It is not unusual for short statured babies and children to be delayed with their gross motor skills so by the time they were physically up and running around my children were also old enough to understand that pulling a cup of milk off the kitchen bench and emptying it over the floor just for the fun of it wasn't something you should do. As a young mother I can't remember having to baby/toddler proof my house. Ever. People would always commend us on how well behaved our children were. And they were, but there was also another aspect to it. They learned the patience to wait until they could do things for themselves.  

Yesterday though, I realised how much more vigilant I would had to have been if we had've had an average-statured child - especially since my kitchen is scaled down to my specifications. I was in the kitchen boiling something on the stove when little M came into the kitchen to see what I was doing. I noticed how accessible everything was to her - especially the gas flames being at eye level. Naturally I directed her to another activity and she happily went off and played, but it was a real eye-opener to me as to how dangerous my scaled-down house could be to little ones who have amazing mobility but not the maturity to ascertain danger. 

Luckily we have other cool things little ones can safely play with - like light switches you can create your own disco with, cold taps you can easily turn on and walking frames that you can use and pretend you have a broken leg!

I've toyed with the idea of doing Family Day Care as I do have the appropriate qualifications to be able to do so...but I don't think it's a good idea anymore, and besides, my passion for the field of Child Care has waned over the years. I kind of blame this on a hellish six months as Co-Ordinator of Out of School Hours Care a number of years ago. My heart is with the under-six age group. I love their innocence, their wonder, their fearlessness and brutal honesty. 

But I would be on constant tenterhooks. Our house is a labyrinth of interesting wonders for little ones and to make it kiddy-proof would mean that it would be "Us-proof" as well. Looking after the children of family members and friends is a source of joy for all of us, but to do it as a career and be subject to OH&S rigors would take the joy out of it. 

I prefer the joy. We had so much fun yesterday and at the end of the day, two tired and happy little girls went home to their parents. 

That's the most important thing.