Reach Out

For the past 3 weeks I have been carrying some stuff with me ... sometimes in my heart, sometimes in my head, sometimes clearly etched on my face.  Those that are close to me noticed ... it is the down side of being a chirpy and lively person.  The reactions were odd .. some of those that I care for simply turned a blind eye, their body language making it clear I was an irritation.  It hurt.  Because this is not the way I would deal with their hard days.  It is not the way I am taught.  Others, even some who are not that knowledgeable about me, did the little things ... a hug, one kind word, a little warmth.  It went further than sarcasm and indifferent attitudes. On Friday late afternoon I found myself on my knees in church ... in the furthest point from everyone because I did not want them to see or hear my tears .. caused so quickly by something that I should have laughed off as trivial and petty.  I told myself that there in the parish I have such an incredible bond with, I would find solace, answers and calm.  It was not to be.  And then someone came up to me and squeezed my shoulder.  Pulled me against them and said " I hope whatever caused this incredible heartache I have watched now, will disappear soon".  A man's voice I did not recognise. I never looked up to see who it was, my face never left my hands.  I know when I came into church there were 6 or 7 people in the pews.
I left as I knew the church was going to start filling up soon.  But I was touched by that kind person.  I lit a candle for you today at church.  For stopping and doing what God expects us to.  For not walking past. For not looking past.  For reaching out to someone.  I think that is what He tries to teach us.  Especially in His house.  We should listen.  And tonight I unexpectedly got a poem, from a new friend, as if she had climbed into my heart and found the pain.  Just like the man in church, she reached out.  And I am so grateful.  Let us not be so hesitant to show compassion when we see hurt or sadness.  Not so quick to grow irritated.   Not so quick to not be bothered.

IF

By Douglas Malloch

If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley – but be the best little scrub
 by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.

If you can’t be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can’t be a muskie, then just be a bass -
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew,
There’s something for all of us here,
There’s big work to do, and there’s lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near.

If you can’t be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can’t be the sun be a star;
It isn’t by size that you win or you fail -                 Be the best of whatever you are!

till next time
c'est la vie

How do women dry their tears?

You know that men and women, Venus & Mars thing?  I was dubious.  I now believe it to be true.  
Now I know my girlfriends damn well .... and let me tell you, they all have their thing.  I am not talking about when they are punch you in the face angry ..... I mean when they are hurt ..... in tears ....... they do stuff. 

Now me .... to drive me to tears .... and I do not mean happy ones ...... the number one winning trigger is meanness.  Simply for the sake of being mean.   And especially if you know this and still persist.    

I have a friend who cleans house on such occasions ..... top to bottom even if it means staying up till 3am.  Everything is cleaned, floor to ceiling.  She would lift the tiles if she could.  I should have her over.  And make her cry. 

Another one irons.  Everything.  And when she runs out of ironing, she simply re-irons stuff from the cupboards.  I pray that I will never be so teary that I have a desire to iron something. 

A 3rd one drives.  Gets in her car and drives.  Like a trip to nowhere.  Music loud.  Tears streaming and she rants.  Then she goes home again. I love this idea.  But fuel is simply too expensive.  Plus I would have to go through the tollgate.  Ugh. 

Then there is eating.  Nothing like a slab of chocolate washed down with something great to lift your spirits.   Some I know of, paint.  Walls, landscapes, their nails ... whatever. 

One friend even cut up 2 of her husband's shirts and a pair of his work pants ..... Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ne'. 

Me?  Usually I watch TV.  Catchup, programmes, soapies, movies ... I don't care.  I simply sit and watch back to back for hours.  I concentrate hard and do not let myself think of something but the story.  And crying. 

Yesterday?  I cleaned something.  A metal stand on wheels, waist high, that has 10 colourful drawers that slide into it.   It has stood in my study, untouched, for the last 6 years.  Everything in the 10 drawers is so dirty and faded it got turfed to paper pickup .... and then I scrubbed the drawers, and the stand and re-assembled it.  And now finally I have an additional place for all my glitter (someone I know is laughing), glitter pens, baubles, ribbons, tapes, scrapbooking stuff, stickers, decals, shimmer stuff, cards and on and on and on.  I truly can rival most craft stores.   

And yes I cried.  Because that is the drift of this story.  

However all's well that ends well.  I cleaned the damn rack that has been on my to-do list forever and a day.  Tomorrow is a new day.  

So ladies how do you dry your tears.  And if it involves cleaning, cooking and ironing .... you are welcome here anytime. 

till next time
c'est la vie xxx

New beginnings

Today was my first day .... fulltime in the parish office.  It felt a little strange ... I sat behind my table working and thought "this is my job" and then the strangeness of realising that this was now my place, gave way for delight    ... that I no longer had to go through the Zambesi tollgate in the morning    . .. no longer had to pass through 4 eToll gantries every day.  No more driving on the highway to work.  Just simply pop over the hill.  14.6km to be exact.  No more riding from one appointment to another .... fuel, parking and toll costs soaring.  Being a 5 min drive from Nic's school ... literally up the road.  Working opp my church so I can pop into Adoration chapel every day and spend ten mins with the Blessed Eucharist.  And a job that I am excited to do.  The day passed in a blur of baptism and funeral docs and requests, admin, brides via email, filing and a non-stop phone.

I left late afternoon.  Mind spinning.  But my heart was smiling.  Thankyou Fr Chris, I am exactly where I am meant to be.

Till soon
c'est la vie xxx

Leap of Faith and the Winds of Change for my career

So I am down to the final 10 days at Irene Homes after 5 years here.  Feels a little strange.  I am used to driving the 30kms to IH and had just started to make peace with the Etoll gantries I pass under to get here.  The ladies of the Homes, whom we take care of, have crept deeply into my heart, as have the friends I have made here over the years amongst the staff.  Mentally disabled are two words that are a natural part of my vocabulary as I spent my days Fundraising for this very worthwhile NPO. 

But God always sends opportunities in His time, and that time for me is now. 

I am going to work fulltime as the PA for a very dynamic parish priest.  We have a unique relationship and working together is going to be a big blessing in my life and the opportunity to be in and around my faith all the time.  He will tell you I am like a whirlwind of glitter and craziness ..... and he means it with great kindness.  In addition I am going to freelance as a Fundraiser, predominantly within the Catholic community. There is much need for this. 

So as one chapter draws to an end in my life, I stand on the brink of turning the page onto a new exciting chapter. 

A piece of my heart will be left at Irene Homes, and so it should be.  I would like to think that I have touched all their lives in some way.  And I will visit, because the staff say they still need to hear me shout "hello aunties" whenever I arrive.  

I am grateful.  Grateful for the time I spent there.  Grateful for my new jobs.  Grateful for God steering me where He thinks I best belong. 

Till very soon 
in a Leap of Faith 
xxx

Single sock party

Yesterday my son showed a friend of ours that he had a pair of socks on that were both black but the toe part was red on the one sock and orange on the other.  I commented that my black socks seemed also to be mismatched.  My son blamed it on the "laundry department" i.e. me.  My friend commented that he would never wear mismatched socks.  And seemed to have great sympathy for my son.  Ugh.  

This quickly lead to a discussion about the "single sock laundry syndrome" which is one that will be familiar to all moms ...... what the hell happens to socks in the wash ...... because in my mind they go to that great sock heaven, along with tupperware lids. Our friend looked completely stunned when I told him that we currently have 68 single socks in a basket in the laundry. 

Now:

Did we originally buy them in a pair - Yes
Did we wear them in a pair the first few times - Yes
Did we throw them into the laundry basket in a pair - Yes
Were they washed as a pair - Yes
Did they come out the washing machine / washline as a pair - No 

And therein lies the age old question ..... who has that other one?

So we decided that a "single sock party" is the way to go.  We get a group of  people together who all bring their single socks along. ..... we throw them in piles together according to colour and adult & kids socks.  And then you see if you cannot marry your single socks as close as possible to someone else's. Once this is done we roll up the newly married pairs and donate them to the church Soup kitchen initiative so that when they go out on Friday evenings to feed the street people, they can also give out socks.  

If I have 34 mismatched pairs, can you imagine how many pairs 10 or 20 of us can make?

So come on parishioners and friends ..... let's find a date for the single sock party.  Bring cake, bring colddrink, bring yourselves and most of all --- bring the socks!!!! 

till soon
c'est la vie xxx

Retreating into myself .... the Corpus Christi weekend

This weekend past I went on a Corpus Christi retreat with mostly members of my own parish, along with some from other parishes.  The retreat was led by PIE with our very own Fr Chris contributing greatly on the Eucharist, Order of the Mass and of course celebrating our daily Masses over the 3 days. 

What did I leave at home?  Laundry, lists, TV, social media, questions like where is this and where is that from kids, cooking, driving, working, emails etc etc. 

What did I find there?  Peace, quiet, God, fellowship, Worship, friends, SLEEP, the Rosary, insight into my religion, prayer, music, Mass and in many ways .... myself.  Me.  Just Karin.  Not Karin the mom or Karin the employee or Karin the whatever.  Just Karin.  

I know this because during the Mass I cried.  All 3 days.  Why?  Who knows .... it felt like I was a big over-inflated balloon and when you took all the stuff as listed in the 2nd paragraph away, it was like pricking me with a pin .... and as I calmed down, slowed down, breathed .... I cried.  And the best thing is, no-one chuckled, no-one judged, because many were crying themselves.  

When I left there it was with somewhat of a heavy heart ... I would have liked a day or two more. 

When I came home I found all the regular stuff ..... but I did the laundry slowly ..... I took time to do things for me.  Monday came around and my life was chaos again .... at one stage during the morning doing 32 jobs at once I wondered if the retreat had helped.  But I breathed and I switched off the radio on the way to work so that I could listen to God.  Not talk to him, but listen to what he was telling me. 

And sometimes I am not going to look for something or clean something or wash something.  Sometimes I will simply say tomorrow it will be done.  Because now is me time. 

Give yourself space as Fr Chris says ... 

c'est la vie xxx

One ball. Millions of people

So life as we know it has come to a temporary halt.  World Cup is the central theme of our home --- meals taken in the lounge .... chefs kits steamed in the lounge .... update of each other's lives ..... yip ..... in the lounge.  Armed with 4 new sherpa blankets ... one for each of us, we have entered the football zone.  

We are not "only during World Cup" soccer supporters.  We are all year round soccer supporters in our house .... so World Cup is huge.  We have drawn our teams in our family pool (yes as per previous blog I have every crap team that somehow managed to drag themselves kicking and screaming into the tournament), we have the chart up ... not the one only entering scores from quarterfinals, we have the large oversized one which shows every result of every match and in addition we follow the updates online and watch every other related programme during this time.  Eug and Nic judge the players on skill alone, Jess and I are inclined to value them even more highly if God has blessed them with wonderful looks, severely powerful thighs etc etc.  We all have our own grading system not so?

Meals than cannot be cooked in under 20 mins will not be served during this time.  Calls unrelated to soccer will not be answered.  Any activity that cannot happen during halftime, will not be happening.  The Nespresso machine has been pre-programmed for optimum cappuccino delivery speed.  Everything has been moved to within arms reach from the furniture in the lounge.  

My son tells us that Soccer is not Everything, it is the Only Thing.  Sometimes he is so wise.  

still hoping for a win by Honduras
c'est la vie xxxx