Tag Archives: gift

The Unspoken Language of Love.

On Sunday, when we celebrated our son’s 11th Birthday, it was about so much more than cake, presents and even the much anticipated party. It was a golden opportunity to show our son how much we love and cherish him and for him to sparkle like a diamond in the candlelight. There’s nothing like your birthday!

If you read my last post, you’ll understand that celebrations have become quite a production and I wouldn’t be surprised if it soon finds its way to Broadway or London’s West End.

I’ve already dealt with the cake.

Now, we’re onto the presents…or THE present, in particular. You see, I gave Mister a second-hand Australian Army uniform, which I chanced upon at a local opportunity or thrift shop.

Choosing gifts is something I take pretty seriously. I really do try to slip inside someone else’s skin, walk around in their shoes, see the world through their eyes and their soul to find that “Wow thing”. That thing which makes their heart sing. Not only because they love it but also because they know I understand. I get them. This gift, therefore, somehow reflects that very special, often concealed inner self or perhaps the seeds of that very precious dream, which are just waiting to germinate, flourish and grow yet are still so tender, tentative and so very embryonic.

To put it simply, gift giving is a great way to show empathy, which is such an important component of love. It is the life-giving force which enables us to grow and reach for the stars.

After all, don’t we all know it when someone gives us something which misses the mark entirely or when our significant other gives us something so impersonal that it could’ve come from a stranger? These gifts affect us in a different way, so often stabbing a knife through the heart. Quite bluntly, they clearly don’t understand you at all!!

A happy birthday boy!

A happy birthday boy!

Although I don’t always find that perfect present which fulfills all these hopes and expectations, I did find the perfect gift for Mister and I couldn’t wait to see his response. As I mentioned, I bought Mister an Australian Army uniform I chanced upon at the op shop. Mister wants to join the army when he grows up and although I’m not keen, I pushed my own feelings aside and supported my son. Of course, the uniform is  way too big but dreams are like that at the start. We have to grow into them.

Having children is my greatest achievement. It was my saviour. It switched my focus from the outside to the inside. My children are gifts, they remind me of what’s important.

Elle Macpherson

More than just being an army uniform, this was a very special birthday present from me to him. It said I can put my values and desires aside to respect and nurture his dreams and encourage him to grow up and be himself, rather than trying to shape and mold him into who or what I think he should be and, in effect, turn him into a bonsai…a pruned and shrunk down version of who he was meant to be.

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

You see, in my youth I was pretty opposed to armies, war and battles. I even took part in protests against Australia’s involvement in the Gulf War and marched through the streets. I wouldn’t describe myself as a pacifist but I’d definitely be of the view: “Make love not war”.

Miss is dwarfed by the army pants.

Miss is dwarfed by the army pants.

I’m also a person who, at least I hope, has principles and have built up something called “character”. This means having values and standing up for what I believe in. Before the kids were born, for example, there were going to be no Barbies, no guns and definitely no signing up and joining the army. But as much as you bring up your children, they also modify you and seeing pure happiness and joy glowing on your child’s precious face does tinker with these values a bit. Or, at least, it does for me.

Hate to admit it but a persistent campaign of incessant nagging by your kids can also make an impact on all you held dear as well!

Mister was thrilled when he opened up his present. He was so happy with such an enormous smile that he was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. I was happy too.  Both kids held  the uniform up against themselves and it looked ridiculously big, reminding me of a comedy sketch from Wallace & Gromit: The Wrong Trousers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pW6gj2n51sU

Watching the kids with the army pants reminded me of Wallace & Gromit in the Wrong Trousers.

Watching the kids with the army pants reminded me of Wallace & Gromit in the Wrong Trousers.

I’m sure Mister didn’t appreciate what giving him that army uniform represented. Of course, he doesn’t know just what a seismic shift it is for me to embrace his love of the army. While I love any form of history and honour our ex-service people and collect memorabilia and books from WWI and WWII, that’s very different from having your one and only beloved son go and sign up. That possibility, though still a long way off, does trouble me a bit because I was also his age once and that was when I decided to become a writer and I’ve never veered off course. Writing is like breathing and I even write in myself. Actually, truth be told, I’m often writing when I should be asleep!! I knew that’s who I was when I was 10 and it was set in stone.

However, as much as I have marched and protested going to war, I also felt it was important that I support my son in how he sees himself and in pursuing his dreams. Recognising who he is as a person and empowering him to walk in his own shoes instead of trying to impose me or my values on him like an iron on transfer. Just because someone is young, it doesn’t mean their dreams and values aren’t precious and worthy of recognition and respect, even if we would rather they pursued a different path. Our children need to know they can trust us with their dreams and aspirations. After all, they come from the very heart of the soul and are so very, very precious and need to be handled with kid gloves … certainly not ridiculed or rejected. That, would be like stomping on the precious wings of a beautiful butterfly which, having just emerged from its chrysalis and waited for its tender wings to dry, is about to take its first tenuous flight…and this is your child who is so much more worthy than that.

So I gave him the army uniform and made him happy.

So happy that he took the army uniform to school on Monday, particularly to show his teacher whose son is in the army. He was as proud of punch and he truly respects all that the uniform stands for and what it means to fight for your country. Well, as much as you can when you’re an 11 year old kid and war is on the other side of the world and it’s not in your own backyard.

So I managed to get it right.

Or did I?

After all, was it just coincidence that I strayed across that army uniform in the op shop or was it meant to be? Serendipity? God? Destiny fate?

This isn’t just an erroneous question. I am an op shop addict and I have never seen an army uniform for sale in an op shop before and yet there it was just a couple of weeks before Mister’s birthday. As much as I might have decided to stretch myself well beyond my comfort zone to encourage his dreams, I also suspect I was nudged.

Interesting!

Our mothers give us so many gifts. They give us the precious gift of life, of course, but they also leave treasured lessons that can guide us along our journeys even when they are no longer with us.

Maria Shriver

By the way, I should point out that while I was protesting, Geoff’s brother was actually in the Australian army and Mister has grown up with Uncle Terry’s slouch hat in the house. Geoff’s Great Uncle Ralph French died in France during WWI and we have been down to the Australian War Memorial as a family to honour him and we even participated in a special memorial service they hold each day and we laid down a wreath. Another Great Uncle served in Gallipolli and went on to serve in Beersheba in the Australian Light Horse. So it would seem that joining the Armed Forces are in my son’s blood.

xx Rowena

PS A week after Mister’s birthday while I’m sitting at Palm Beach, I stumbled across this song Forever Young by Rod Stewart, which I wanted to send as a post birthday present to my son: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgiLWNgpXiQ

Seeds for the New Year

January 2, 2014

Seeds in anybody’s language spell hope, new beginnings…the start of a dream but for me there was an added resonance.

Yesterday, I received the ultimate New Year’s gift.

It wasn’t expensive or luxurious.

In fact, it was deceptively simple and it cost its giver nothing.

Not even a cent.

“How is this so?” I hear you ask in a very Professor Julius Sumner Miller tone of voice. Perhaps, you haven’t heard of him but he used to host a science show called “How is it so?” and he also did an ad for Cadbury Dairy Milk Chocolate where he managed to get a boiled egg inside a milk bottle. It was pretty impressive stuff.

Julius Sumner Miller

This was in the days before a more recent Australian politician, Pauline Hanson, made the phrase: “Please explain” legendary.

Well, I am overflowing with explanations.

The kids and I were visiting some friends. All the kids were playing. I’d brought my friends some of my White Chocolate Rocky Road and she’d given me a slice of her Wild Strawberry Cheesecake, which was incredibly lush and made completely without additives and nasty chemicals. Wow! It was exceptionally creamy and I must admit I was feeling rather spoilt. This is the sort of thing you usually have to go to a café or gourmet bakery to find….very, very nice. My friend also made me a cup of tea and there is always something particularly healing and soothing about someone else making you a cup of tea, especially when you are a busy Mum and always seemingly looking after everybody else. She was an angel.

While the kids were bouncing round in the pool, I couldn’t help notice all their veggies. They grow their own tomatoes, beans, beetroot and more in garden beds raised above the ground. All these veggies, which could almost amount to a small market garden, are growing slightly more than a stone’s throw away from the beach on a standard suburban block. Quite a miracle really except you can see this garden is very well-maintained and cared for. Loved.
I was incredibly impressed and inspired.

Not that I looked at their set-up thinking: “if they could do it, I could do it”. Not on your life!!! However,  I did consider that just maybe we could manage one tub…a veggie patch on a smaller scale and actually grow something! The rest of our garden might be derelict but perhaps we could manage to look after this small patch of soil and develop our own backyard “oasis”.

Actually producing veggies we could eat would be nice but that would be more of a by-product. I was equally interested in the gardening experience in itself and all that excitement that comes with planting seeds and waiting, waiting, waiting for that very first green shoot to finally poke its head through the soil to greet the sun and a whole lot of eager watching eyes. The kids would love it. I remembered picking beans straight from my grandfather’s vine and just how amazing that was. As a child, it was a veritable miracle!

Moreover, being somewhat of a life-lesson addict, I thought the routine of having to water our plants was going to be good for the kids as well. Routine, responsibility, nurturing…these are all important life skills. Things perhaps you could learn from books but I really doubted you could learn them from playing Minecraft, even if you do get to grow virtual crops!  They need life experience as well. To do things with their hands aside from pressing buttons all day.

There was only one drawback to my veggie garden scheme.

Me!

Although I’ve always loved gardening and used to have quite a green thumb and have grown my own herbs, bulbs etc even in our exceptionally barren and sandy beach soil, I’m not good at keeping up the watering and so many, many plants have died from thirst.

In other words, I’ve become a plant killer.

Now, being a loving, caring and nurturing person at heart, I’ve had more than a little guilt over this and stopped buying plants until we could get the watering system going again. We’ve been on drought status and water-restrictions for many years but now we have no excuse. Water restrictions have eased and while we still need to be responsible about our water consumption and I do tend to re-use water at home, we can actually water our plants.

However, I have a very bad track record. It all starts out alright but slowly but surely the watering tapers off and without rain, we all know what that means.

But I am always a firm believer in change. Personal growth. After all, we are fluid, flexible beings. We’re not set in stone.

So after expressing my interest in starting our own veggie patch, my friend gave me a handful of dried beans filled with seeds with the potential to create our very own bean plantation in our small, yet to be constructed, backyard tub.

I carefully, put the beans in my handbag trying to think of the right words to tell Geoff, ask Geoff, to build our veggie patch. It wasn’t exactly the best timing but it was something we could do together as a family and I wanted the kids to learn all about gardening, soil, watering, worms…our environment. We have had a worm farm for 4 years and so this would just be an extension of that and indeed it would be a great use of all our juicy, fertile worm dirt. It no longer go to waste just sitting at the bottom of the tub. We would convert it to lush, fresh produce oozing with vitamins and none of the horrible chemicals. Perfection, in other words.

But as I said, this isn’t exactly the best time to launch into new gardening project even a small-scale because we are currently struggling to manage the everyday stuff and when you consider Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, growing your own veggies is more of a luxury not an act of survival. At least, when you live walking distance to at least three huge supermarkets and a great fruit and veg shop, it is.

I guess this is where I really have to stop being cryptic and answer your “please explain”.

You see, I haven’t really explained or updated my health status for some time. Even though I am fairly open about my life, I have struggled to find the words and it is difficult to tell people when things get worse, when I have a setback because I know that even people I haven’t met in this weirdly intimate world of blogging, care about me.  We are only human and you don’t need to meet in person to be a friend, to love or to care. My situation is also quite emotionally charged because I have young kids and it’s not nice having to think about children potentially growing up without their Mum but that is what we live with. We are conscious of this as a possibility as it is for any one of us. We are just more conscious of this possibility than others and can actually take steps and plan ahead. Not for the eventuality but the possibility. While this shadow lurks around,it also enables us to capre diem seize the day and squeeze the marrow out of life. We have fun!

Anyway, a few months ago, I developed pneumonia. This wasn’t as bad as pneumonia gets but it was pretty awful and I spent 3 weeks in bed and was coughing so badly that I pulled muscles in my stomach. That’s never happened before and that was really scary and it hurt. We put the kids in before and after school care for 2 weeks straight…something we’ve never done before. It was a big deal. Things were pretty serious and we were considering hospital but there was also the risk of catching something else in there so Geoff wanted to keep me at home.

My GP sent me off to get lung x-rays and these showed some issues so I went for an updated CT Scan. I’d had my last CT scan two years ago and it had shown mild institial lung disease, which is a form of fibrosis. This wasn’t considered a problem at the time but they started monitoring things more closely. This is a nasty disease and it kills. But treatment is available and of course, works better when you catch it early, which we have. Monday I saw my rheumatologist. Tuesday his secretary called and Thursday I started chemo along with transfusions of methyl prednisone, which has all the reverse side-effects of the chemo and makes you really bouncy, euphoric and unable to sleep. It’s like buzz! Buzz! Buzz! All this steps are designed to reduce inflammation and gain control of my disease.

This situation may not be ideal but I am certainly in the best position to mount a counter offensive and I am also looking at other ways of improving my lungs such as swimming and playing the recorder.

Of course, the side-effects of the chemo can include losing my hair. I almost had to laugh at that because after taking 6 years to finally get my hair cut off and being really pleased with the results, now I was being threatened with losing the lot. 90% of me didn’t care as I had no doubt that losing my hair was nothing compared to saving my lungs. I need to breathe. But at the same time there was still a residual “growl”. I figured that it would be just my luck for my hair to fall out just when I’ve got it all sorted.” I really do love my new hair.

So far so good. My hair has stayed put and I’ve had none of the expected side-effects from the chemo aside from fatigue. I have a few buzzy days after my treatments from the prednisone and then a few days feeling wasted and then I’m back on deck for the next one.

While chemo might and I guess certainly does sound depressing, right from the start I have been telling myself that it is only six weeks. Being in the lead up to Christmas, I thought of the kids countain down the number of sleeps until Santa arrived and I would do the same…6,5,4,3,2,1…blast off!

This really helped me face my first treatment and now that the side-effects are nowhere near as bad as I’d expected, the countdown isn’t really an issue. I had my third treatment today so now I’m officially halfway. It’s all been going so quickly.I also made jokes about getting chemo for Christmas, which in reality is the best Christmas present I could have. Treatment and hope. These are a gift.

Yet, to be perfectly honest with you, the important thing isn’t just surviving chemo and getting through.

What matters is that it works. That my auto-immune disease responds and goes back into its cupboard and doesn’t come out.

A rainbow of hope.

A rainbow of hope.

That’s the real waiting game. My cough has dramatically improved. Yet, as positive as I am, I still have doubts. Just like the seeds of faith, the seeds of doubt can also germinate and grow like crazy…the weeds in the garden of hope.

That’s where my ultimate New Year’s Day present comes in…those bean seeds.

It didn’t hit me straight away but those seeds were almost like a promise ….a hope. I will get better. Those seeds are offering me the vision of a brand new life and healing…renewal. I cling to that hope and pray!

Now, I don’t know that for sure. My disease has been pretty resistant in the past but it has also responded…eventually. I like the science behind my new treatment. I will also be treated with a drug called rituximab after the chemo and it is a much more targeted therapy without the toxicity of the chemo. It really could be the treatment that will ultimately work for me and you can only access it after other avenues have failed due to the cost.

So it could be that while this setback is serious, it could well be that coldest time of night before dawn. That this new treatment should and could be the solution!

That is our prayer and our hope.

I would love to receive any words of encouragement or stories of overcoming the odds. It would mean the world to me.

Love & best wishes,
Rowena xx

I was given a handful of dreid golden beans filled with seeds….the makings of our new veggie patch.