The Party That Never Quits

I really hate it when my computer stops working for no apparent reason, and then works again a week later.

I have so much to catch up on. I'll have to do a double 1000 gifts post on Monday, and hope I haven't forgotten any of the funny stories that happened here at our party the last few weeks.

Like Eli falling out of a tree and ending up with stitches. That was fun.

Or the van breaking down. Twice.

Yasi went through Queensland and miraculously God spared all lives... in fact, three babies were born that night! So much has happened to that state... it's difficult to really put it into words.

School is back in session and so far it's been smooth sailing. Except for when Drew head-butted that one girl. That wasn't so great.

Some exciting new things are happening at church, and while it might not be that unusual for you, it's a big step for our little church, and I look forward to telling you about it next week.

So... what's been happening in your lives the last two weeks?

Go

This is the first time I've done this, and quite frankly, it scares the bejeezus out of me.

Because I have no idea what I'm supposed to write about. Which is probably the point, but whatever.

Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to have a picture prompt.

Oops.

Oh well.

I avoid writing here, I think, because I know how flawed I am, and to be authentic, I'd have to write a whole bunch more about how I ignore the voice of God, and quite frankly, that doesn't look too good on my resume.

I've not felt well the last couple of days. My joints ached and it hurt to write.

I'm out of practice with writing. I used to all the time. Now I don't. I read beautiful blogs, and I know I don't measure up. They have stories they tell so stunningly, and I don't even know what mine is exactly.  I have a bunch of kids, I live in Australia.

Riveting.

What would you like me to talk on? Give me ideas? In what way would you like to know me?

30 seconds left...

I love my husband. I love my kids. My God is close to me, even though I feel far from him.

I love that.

Stop.

We're moving.

Not any time greatly soon, we've been renting my mothers house while she's been in England these last two years, and she gets home in 2 months.

One could say both Adam and I like to be prepared.

Either that or we know how spectacularly we can procrastinate until we only have 4 days to pack up a house of 6 kids.

Needless to say, we've begun collecting boxes and as of last night, started putting things away.

We are loving it.

While we are incredibly grateful that we had mums place to move into, it has been the most trying two years as a family to date. Mum's house is.... small, to put it nicely.... and it has been really hard squeezing six children into a house built for three people.

Did I mention there's no back yard?

Anyway, we are so excited to move to a bigger home. One where we can have a bedroom. Sleeping on the lounge room floor was fun for about a week. One where I can send the kids outside to run off some steam.

One where their fighting isn't magnified by the closeness of the walls.

The hardest thing these last two years has been the noise. The relentless noise of cooped up kids with cabin fever. I am so looking forward to having my sanity back. There is nothing worse than constant bickering, screaming and wailing.

As a singer and generally all-round musical person, I am sensitive to noise. Being an INFP personality only compounds this. I was talking to a dear prayer warrior friend at church the other week and I told her that if it was a happy noise, I wouldn't mind the volume so much. But it's not happy noise. It's bad noise.

It's not just the kids either. While I'm feeling like every sound wave is ramming itself into the side of my head and I'm sick and tired of their constant at-each-other-ness and zero capabilities of working anything out on their own without shrieking at each other or physically fighting, I must be honest and admit that I add my own voice to the fray.

Cutting words.

Dismissive words.

Screaming.

Swearing.

Often simultaneously.

Children learn what they live.

I know I am incredibly undisciplined in this area. And though the Bible tells us that taming the tongue is impossible (James 3:8), I can tame my heart, or at least allow Jesus to do it for me. And in doing so, it will check my temper, and allow me to respond, rather than react, and at least bring the decibels down a little bit.

Adam and I really sat down a few months ago and tried to work out where our home life all went to pot in this regard.

The answer was so simple.

We moved from a house with a backyard bigger than the block this house is on now.

Our children need to run.

This was proven to such an extent I was nearly blinded by the shattering light bulb above my head, when we took the kids out to a friends property for a birthday party.

They did. not. stop. running.

We arrived there at 3:30. From the minute they were out of the car, they were gone. I didn't see them again. They didn't even come to eat.

This is a big deal.

I called them at seven to tell them it was time to go, thinking I'd need at least a half hour to get them gathered and in the car.

Five minutes later, they were all packed up in the car, not one whine or tear to be seen.

Huh!

Fancy that.

We also realised, Adam and I, that as two introverted parents, with predominately extroverted kids, we do not work well in close environments. We are all up in each others business too much.

There is no where to go and be alone.

The kids share rooms. We don't have one.

Sometimes, we need somewhere to go and have a time out. Sometimes, when Adam comes home, if he calls me, I'll sneak out the front, and when he arrives, we'll just sit in the car for 10 minutes before we brave the pit.

We are standing on Words given that God will provide us with a house. With space, so we can grow.

And that is a good noise.

Well, not really. Lots of thoughts and ideas, but no way of knowing if I'll be able to write them down coherently. I may have to write some drafts first.

I don't really want this to be another "mom blog". I want people to know me, the way I think, the way I feel, the way I over analyze, how I can pick one word out of a bible verse and wonder why they used that one, because it makes it so much deeper... I want to be authentic, I want this place to be somewhere people enjoy being, I want it to be fun and light-hearted, but with depth...

I want people to know God resides here.

And yet, I don't know exactly how. I read some amazing blogs. People who write beautifully. Some people are side splittingly funny. Some make me think. Others make me cry every time. Some people do all of the above.

Who am I in this online community?

I have the upside of being, essentially, a foreigner... in that most people who I read are American. I use words that make them scratch their heads, I sound funny and eat weird food combinations. So there's that, but is it enough?

Where do I fit? What does my voice sound like here? What's my niche? Would staying as random and flit about-y as I am naturally work in blogland, or do I need to have a cohesive and coherent platform?

(Anyone else have "free to be me" running in their head about now?)

And of course, now I'm second guessing myself, and whether I just sound like an attention junkie. Why am I even blogging?

Because I love the people here. Truly. And I want to be a part of the awesome things I know God has planned for everyone involved. If there is anything that excites me to the point of wanting to jump out of my skin, it's the thought of what we here in the blogland twitterverse have coming up in the next few years. What is our God up to?? It seems that all of a sudden, without my even trying, in the last few months, I have come across, and fallen into relationship with some of the most amazing, authentic, God honouring, exciting, anointed, world shaking history makers, and I feel something shifting, moving, and preparing.

I want to be a part of it.

But it feels just out of my reach, because I just don't know what my part in it is.

I don't want to miss out.