giveaway, come on over!

Hello friends! Week two on the new blog and the second giveaway. Hopefully I can entice some more of you over...!

I am on The Simple Life xx

moving on

**UPDATE x2: to comment on the new blog click on the post and then at the bottom the comment box will appear. It confused me too x)

*UPDATE: It would be very helpful if I gave the new blog address... www.thesimplelife.co.nz Gotta love it!)

Well friends, it's time. To close this chapter of my life. When I started the blog I was in the middle of a mighty battle. I was desperate and felt alone.  Nearly five years on my life is changed beyond imagining. The barren woman has truly sung and I don't feel like I am the same person that I was when I started this blog.

So it's time to move on.

My new blog has a new focus. Simplicity. We are passionate about living simply- eating simpler with natural ingredients, doing with less and putting less stuff (chemicals and preservatives) into our bodies. My friend designed the blog and I love love love it.

It will be a little different, the kids will be called by their middle names, Luka and Grace and Dida will use his initials- MJ. Other than that business as usual!

My hope is that you will come with me. I am shamelessly doing a series of giveaways to entice you over.

So won't you come with me? Please?

bunting sweetness

I made Sweetpea (Rupi's birth mother) a little string of bunting for her birthday. I used a pattern from a granny square crochet book. I used a 4-ply cotton yarn and sewed a glittery button on each point. She loved it which made me very happy x

Linking up with the lovely Leonie x

bad and good

September 2010

Bad news: my Dad has grade 4 glioblastoma multiforme brain cancer (evil aggressive fast growing cancer in an advanced stage)
Good news: this cancer is highly researched due to it's devilish nature so there are more treatment options

Bad news: my Dad starts radiotherapy and chemotherapy later this month
Good news: the clinic is in the top 5 clinics world-wide in treating this condition

Bad news: my Dad's cognitive abilities are affected
Good news: he thinks he's fine

Bad news: he has a 50% chance of surviving 14 months
Good news: he has utter belief that he will be one of the 50% who makes it

Bad news: I am an insomniac
Good news: tequila sunrises and sleeping pills = good nights rest

Bad news: My Dad is grumpy and belligerent
Good news: this is normal (!)

Bad news: my sisters and I are struggling
Good news: my aunt arrives on Sunday from South Africa for 5 weeks followed by another aunt

Bad news: my Mom is also stage 4 terminal lung cancer
Good news: she is responding well to the current chemotherapy

Bad news: this is all horrible
Good news: we have a faithful God who has promised us an eternity with Him

Bad news: how the heck did this happen to us?
Good news: I have amazing friends (this means you, thank you for being awesome x)

call me if you need anything

In the bleak winter of emotion we find ourselves in as a family, there have been some wonderful moments. Moments where I am reminded that I am loved and cherished. I have some amazing friends.

Darling Meg turning up with with a DVD for the kiddies and "love" blocks because she loves me and can't think of what else to do.

Sweet Liv, the secret blog lurker giving me a package on Sunday at church. With yarn! Soft amazing yarn. This was so thoughtful (I cried)

And beautiful Gail, struggling with her own battles yet seeing me in mine. Knowing my Starbucks-crush and giving the perfect time out gift.

These mean so much to me as the words that I hear the most are "Call me if you need anything." And without being unkind I can't do anything with those words. The reality is that by the time I have had a million conversations about my parents, each weighing me down as I am faced again with their mortality, looked after my family, organised things I did not think of organising for many years and tried to work, the last thing I have energy for is to contact someone with a request.

What I need and what anybody needs in the same boat, is someone to do something specific. Sometimes I am not sure quite what I need either and something is always better than nothing. So a meal is good, a bunch of flowers, a text to say I am praying for you or I thought of you today. A facebook message to say I love you...

An amazing example is the day we moved. I was exhausted. Simoney rang (and rang a few times) to see what she could do. And eventually suggested lunch. I had not even given lunch a thought and we were between houses and packed up. She arrived with an abundance of food, disposable cutlery and crockery, her own knives and a cutting board and drink (with disposable glasses). I felt so loved.

Oh friends, to be honest this journey is bigger than what we can cope with. My Dad's cancer is worse than my Mom's and the prognosis is bad. Seriously bad. My Mom's big sister arrives in a week and I can't wait. She's a hospice (terminally ill) nurse so will help us prepare mentally, emotionally and physically.

I know my God is in this. We truly trust him. It's just that the woods are awfully dark right now and it's a little scary.

P.S. Yes that's a new blog sitting on my profile waiting for me to find time to complete it. It's getting so many page views which is stressing me out. It's not ready and I need to launch it. So ignore it for now (pretty please)

back

Somewhere in the last month or five (or longer) I lost my Dad. He slowly became grumpy and belligerent. He grew intolerant and could not be with us for longer than 5 minutes before becoming bored. I can't even put my finger on when it started.

Last night I sat in the high dependency unit with my Dad and realised he's back. In the dim light surrounded by beeps and alarms and murmurs, I found him.

I held his hand and talked. I cried with relief and he patted my hand and told me "Not to worry, my sausage." I poured out my heart and he thanked me for sharing. He listened and talked and made sense. Oh, he made delightful sense.

The tragedy of all of this is that my Dad is one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. He has a string of degrees and knows things I will never know. The tumors were stripping that away and it was hard to see. His intelligence was dulled.

But he's back! Within hours of the surgery my sparkly, bright Dad is back. The one who makes plans and thinks streets ahead of anyone else. The one who thinks I am fantastic and tells me he's proud of me. My Dad. He's back.