Full house

Pa had 5 children, 11 grandchildren and 17 great grand children.

Most of them are now here, in my Uncles house, waiting for tomorrow when we say an official goodbye. Add in all the spouses and it makes for one crazy busy household.

Lounges are pushed up against the wall, extra tables and chairs borrowed. There are 4 tables for eating arranged around the house. A queue to have showers. Large communal meals with 10 conversations going at once. So much food that disappears so quickly. Some people I only saw recently, others I haven't see for years. Squeezing past, and accidental bumps. Moving suitcases from one pile to another as we try to find our things. It is loud, and crazy, and overwhelming and beautiful.

It is a testament to Pa, that we are all here. That he made sure he knew all of us, and was interested in our lives. He wasn't a grandfather who sat in his room and only sent cards at Christmas. Each year he did a the tour of all his children spread out around Australia, spending a month or more at each of their houses. He would call all the grandkids at random times, always wanting to know how life was treating them. He genuinely wanted to know.

So we all made the trek, the opposite direction to the one he took. To be with those who knew him best, to remember and to celebrate.

My family, how do I explain it? Even though it might be years between seeing each other, there is a relaxed familiarity. A shared understanding. We know the time we have together is always short so we pack as much laughter and stories and being together as we can.




Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him. Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior's hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them! He will not be put to shame when he confronts his accusers at the city gates.

Psalm 127:3-5

My Little Brothers Wedding

I won't bore you with the details of the last week and why I haven't got around to updating the wedding photos until now; just that on top of my usual activities this week included 1 farewell (sad), 2 migraines (blah) and my new room mates moving in (yay!). I'm really hoping the next week will be quieter before Christmas, but that may be wistful thinking :).

Anyway, I'll stop babbling and get to it.

Joshua and Megan, 9th December 2011.

Their wedding had a beautifully unique feel to it. It was one of those vintage/artsy/retro/designy/indie weddings (- you know what I mean!)  that I've seen photos of but never thought I'd ever go to.

Dad did the ceremony which was really special. Watching Dad and Josh interacting before the ceremony almost made me cry :).

The bridesmaids wore different dresses and carried balloons up the corridor of trees.

After having trouble finding a church for the ceremony in the town they wanted they found a gorgeous little park with hundreds of gorgeous trees. They set up streamers to give the 'altar' a defined feel.

They asked me to say a prayer for them during the ceremony - Because everyone bowed their heads to pray no one took any photos! Hopefully the official photographer got one :)

Here I am with Joshua and my new sister-in-law! I made this dress to wear at the wedding, absolutely loved it! Details to come.

While they were having photographs taken, Joshua and Megan hired an ice cream van to come and everyone got to have an ice cream - yum! It was a cool idea (haha, pun unintended), as the van drove up people were unsure what it was doing there, but then a friend came around and said "Help yourself" so everyone did :). Great talking point.

The reception was held in an old performing arts hall that they had spend the day before decorating.

 

There was a yummy lolly table and everyone was asked to bring something for dessert. I made my gingerbread. So yummy, and cute too.

And so, they are now married. Hard to believe that's my little brother! (I have to keep saying that because so many people from Megan's side kept asking me how much younger than Joshua I am, and were surprised to hear I'm 2 years older! Mum says it's a good thing for people to think you are younger than you are but at this point in my life I like to claim my full 25 years).

A sneak peek

The wedding was beautiful and was surrounded by several days with my extended family. All in all a lovely few days. The bride was gorgeous, it didn't rain, and I came away feeling so refreshed and loved, which I was a little afraid I wouldn't.

As soon as I was home I hit the ground running (Christmas is 2 weeks away? When did that happen?!), so haven't had time to write a proper post to do the wedding justice. Here's just a quick look until I get time to sort through the photos and put them up.

Dad married them which made it extra special.

Ready? Let's go

The usual end Of year craziness is keeping me busy- much like everyone else I imagine. Add into the mix the stylish couples wedding and I've been flat out.
Heading off for the wedding (a wedding I have to travel to is a nice excuse for a 5 day weeekend with all the family!), will post pictures when I get back, including the dress I made to wear!

Catch Up

Things are getting busy here. It's only 5 weeks until Christmas, and as of yesterday it's exactly 3 weeks until Joshua and Megan tie the knot!
Joshua has moved out and I'm getting ready for friends of mine to move in.
It's end of year report time. We are starting to plan next year.

So yeah, crazy busy.

Here is a few photos of gingerbread cookies I made for a church fete we had a few weeks ago. I am planning to make a big batch for the reception, they are so yummy.

The end of an era

The stylish couple have found a unit. Joshua is in the process of packing up his things and moving in. He is going to live in the unit until the wedding when Megan will then move in. My little brother is moving out after sharing a flat with me for almost 4 years.

We went for a walk a few weeks ago and talked about how strange it all will be, how exciting it is.

And what's this beautiful package?

I believe it is a wedding invitation, just for me.

Beautifully designed and hand coloured by Megan.

December 9th is coming up so quickly.

Engagement

It was a lovely day for a picnic, a beautiful day for an engagement party. Friends and family gathered in a park to celebrate Joshua and Megan's engagement.

Being the arty, design people they are everything was so pretty. We all know their wedding is going to be amazing.

I got to catch up with a cousin who also works in child care. It was great to be able to bounce ideas off her and compare notes :)

Little Brother

It's strange;

sitting here,

watching my little brother
overtake me on the road of life.

Watching him;
experience things
I haven't
and won't just yet.

But then;

I realised

he hasn't run ahead

Maybe it's just a different road.

And so;

I need

to rejoice with him

and remember differences are good.

It's hard;

knowing we

are following different paths now
after so many years walking next to each other.

(Photo credit)

Mr Fix it

(This is part of an ongoing series chronicling memories of my life growing up as a missionary kid in Vanuatu. For links to previous posts you can go here)

Dad has always been one of those people who could pull apart just about anything and then put it back together again. He would tell us crazy stories about the cars he had as a teenager and how he kept them going longer than possible.

This came in handy at Talua. The generator provided our electricity, the truck took us to town, the lawn mower helped keep the grass under control. Being a country without a lot of experience with mechanical things, most people weren’t sure what to do when things went wrong. And most things that came to Vanuatu they were second hand donations, and as such not in the greatest condition.
Dad could often be found with his head stuck under something mechanical, trying to coax it to work again. And mostly he did. Dad soon became known as the go-to guy whenever anything broke.
Every now and then a student would appear at our front door with a tape player or sewing machine and a smile; “Pastor?”

Dad was always happy to help – but soon worked out that if someone who had no idea what they were doing had had a go first, things were normally beyond repair. He developed a rule; “Has anyone else tried to fix it?” he would ask. If the answer was “yes,” then Dad would not touch it. The students soon learnt not to fiddle with things – but take it straight to Dad to be fixed up.

Ice Cream Pudding

I mentioned ice cream pudding in the meme. I forgot that most people don't know what ice cream pudding is - and you are definatly missing out! It sort of started once we came back to Australia and wanted another thing for desert that wasn't full of dried fruit (Josh and I aren't fans). Basically it's ice cream full of chocolate in a pudding shape.

You need 2 liters good quality vanilla ice cream. It needs to be the good stuff so that it survives being melted and refrozen ok.

Lots of different chocolates, the best are Cherry ripe, Honey comb and some choc chips. 1 of each bar.

A bag of marshmallows

Pull the ice cream out of the freezer and chop up all the chocolate and marshmallows into little pieces. About 1cm squared but it's better rough.

The ice cream will be just starting to soften now so add the chopped up chocolate and marshmallows in a big bowl and mix it all together. Do it quickly so that it doesn't start to go liquid, just soft.

Line another bowl with plastic wrap and pour in the mixture, press it down and cover. Put back into the freezer at least over night.

When your ready to eat, chill a plate in the freezer and then upend the ice cream pudding onto the plate. If it sticks just run the outside of the bowl under hot water for a few seconds. Remove the plastic wrap.

Chop the pudding into segments and enjoy.

Market preparations- aka; I have the Best Dad

Mum and Dad were down last week, which would explain my 2 week hiatus. I have also been busy getting ready for the market coming up. I was explaining to Dad how I want to set up my stall, and he helped me make this;

It's like a room divider/screen. The idea is that it will separate my stall from whoever is behind me, and will also be a way to display some of my clothes too. (Imagine a sign across the top as well, I haven't made it yet). From a bit of research I did it helps to have an attractive looking stall to draw the people in. Glebe is a busy little market so I want to stand out.

We just got a piece of lattus from Bunnings and cut it into sections and added hinges (Ok, so dad did most of that, I held the wood while he sawed). It's so great having a Dad whose handy with building stuff.

I have also been busy sewing, adding buttons and attaching swing tags.

It's just two weeks away - I can't wait! I go from panicking that I won't have enough stock (which I doubt will happen) to worrying that I won't sell anything. I'm hoping the experience is a bit more in the middle :)

Lest We Forget

My Pa is sick. I miss him. I'm especially sad about this becasue it's ANZAC day and it's one of the first ANZAC days in a long time he hasn't put on his medals and gone into the march.

Wailing

(This is part of an ongoing series chronicling memories of my life growing up as a missionary kid in Vanuatu. For links to previous posts you can go here)

Our house was close to the Single Boys quarters. If something particularly loud was going on we could hear it in our place.

Ever now and then (not very often, but often enough that we knew what it was) we would wake up to hear a loud wail. It was a high, loud, mournful sound which was then joined by other voices.

We knew then that someone had died. A message had traveled from one of the islands that a relative of one of the students had died and now they were mourning their loss, and other people were sharing in their pain.

Being a kid I never really paid much attention to things like that. Death was not a part of my world. I have only one vivid memory of being part of a mourning.

Dad had received a phone call, and come back upset. Mum came and told us that His grandmother had died in Australia. Joshua and I were not sure what to do. It was very rare to see Dad so upset. Great Grandma was a vague shadow in our memory, we were use to the people in our everyday sphere, or the relatives that we were in direct contact through letters and parcels.

The news soon spread around the campus and the next afternoon everyone from the college came to our house to mourn with us. Our house was full, with people sitting on the floor though out the main room.

First we sat and most people cried. Then someone started to sing and we all sang some choruses. Then Pastor Kalsikal lead us in prayer. Afterwards Dad, Mum, Joshua and I lined up so that everyone could shake our hands and tell us personally how sorry they were.

Looking back as an adult I appreciate how the community banded together. Everyone came to support the people who were grieving, and showed that when one person in a community was hurt, everyone hurt. There was no shying away from the pain, they acknowledged it straight up.

I don't know if this continued, or if it was only for the day, so I'm not sure how people reacted in a few days afterwards; if they mentioned it or ignored it as I feel happens here. Like I said, I was only a kid and death had not yet made an impact on my life.

Two shirts

I realised I haven't shown much of the sewing I've been doing lately, even though I've rarely been away from the sewing machine for a lot of my holidays.

This is partly because a lot of what I've been sewing is for the shop and I'm sure if you really wanted to see it you could head over there :), otherwise I won't exhaust you with 10 versions of the same baby dress. The other reason is because I'm having major body issues at the moment so I think anything I wear looks gross. Which is a shame because I quite liked the latest dress I'd made until I wore it.

So when I finally finished two shirts for Joshua I had to share them. Josh likes wearing collared button down shirts, but can't always find ones that he likes. He picked the fabric and I had a go at making a couple.

I used Simplicity 5366, but used the smallest size and make a mock up. I then put it on Joshua and tailored it quite a bit to make it more a fitted look. I also put two darts down the back.

The look isn't perfect because I'm not a professional pattern alterer, but I'm impressed with the result.

Why don't you give me a call?

(This is part of an ongoing series chronicling memories of my life growing up as a missionary kid in Vanuatu. For links to previous posts you can go here)




It blows my mind that Talua now has Internet. That I can read Rachel's blog (even though its got it's slow points) from Talua is just crazy.

When we first arrived in Vanuatu there was no phone line in Talua. If you wanted to make a phone call you had to go into Luganville (the town on our island). One of the reasons Mum looked froward to her weekly shopping trip to town, was to ring up and talk to family.

In town we then went to the big Telecom building. The foyer was a large area, with high ceilings, and big lazy fans which turned the air. When you arrived you went to the clerk and he would place your name in the queue. Then you sat on some wooden benches and waited. On one wall was a series of phone booths.

When it was your turn the clerk would call your name and tell you which phone you could use. Mum went into the booth and used her phone card to ring up some of our relatives in Australia. The number of the phone we were using was printed above it. Mum would let our family know the number and then hang up. Then we waited in the booth for the phone to ring.


It was alot cheaper for our family in Australia to ring us than it was to phone from Vanuatu to Australia. There was always the anxious wait while we called Australia, trying to work out what the time was in Australia and hoping they would be home to answer.

Sometimes Mum would write in a letter when she hoped to be in town and at what time she might ring, but you couldn't ever guarantee that you actually would be in town, or that the phones would be working. So at was a bit hit and miss at time.

I only remember using the phone like that a few times. I wasn't normally allowed into town - it was mainly during holidays when there was room on the truck.

I can remember the joy in our second last year when the phone came out to Talua. We could call at any time we wanted (well, when the phone worked). We could call on actually birthdays or on Christmas day.

At first there was a public phone near the drive way that anyone could use. It was near enough to the library so that if it rang someone was around and could run out to answer it.

Then there was one in the Principals office and in the staff room. Dad was the Dean of Studies our last few years and that meant there was one in his office as well.

I remember Mum and Dad sitting in his office, Joshua and I mucking around on the veranda, watching a game of soccer across the road until the phone rang again and Mum called us in. The pressure was then on to make those few expensive minutes matter .

Here is Joshua using the public phone in Talua.

For your reading pleasure

Tomorrow I head off again to see family in Queensland, so I thought I would leave you with a little gem I discovered while we were going through old school work folders trying to find things to showcase at Joshua's 21st.

I discovered a hand written book of poems I had written dated the 14th May 1995. I would have been about 9.

(I left the original spelling in tack. I have never been a great speller, though at this point in time I blame Bislama for some of my phonetic spelling, also my tendency to exchange 'p's and 'b's)



I love my Mum,
My Mum loves me.
I can go to her with proplams (problems)
She makes me tae.



Under a shady tree
is just the thing for me
A book in my hand
no needing to stand
this is the live (life)
Pace (peace) and quiet




Five lille (little) birds on a tree.
One jumped on my head,
Oh dear! Oh dear!
five lille birds on my head insted.



(photo from sxc)

Not so little

My 'little' brother is not so little anymore, he turns 21 today!

Happy Birthday Joshua! I've loved the last 21 years and look forward to many more.

Love you lots

Third Culture Kids

What does it mean to be a third culture kid? Is it knowing 2 national anthems word for word? Is it smiling to yourself when you hear another language? Is it feeling a sense of bitter-sweet but undefinable longing whenever you smell something familiar? Is it never feeling like you belong in any one culture, or have a home anywhere?

I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s anything you can fully describe.

Third culture kids are children that spend a substantial amount of time in their youth in a culture that is not the culture of their parents, not the culture in their home and not the culture they are expected to spend the rest of their life in. These children’s parents are generally missionaries or international workers and the third culture feeling strikes hardest the more different the two cultures are, and often when returning back to their ‘home’ culture.


These children spend most of their time in their host country but may come back to their ‘home’ country every few years. They have friends in the ‘host’ culture but often do their schooling in their own language and following their home country’s curriculum. Their home life is a mix of the home culture and the host culture – it varies depending on where they are and how involved the family is in the host culture.

They know they do not fully fit into their host culture. They probably look different, they speak a different language, they most probably have had a bit of experience in their home culture.

But they do not fit into their home culture either. They may speak with an accent, they may dress differently, have social habits form their host culture, they have had a wide range of experiences, they may be unfamiliar with many parts of the home culture we take for granted. Some bits of the home culture are bewildering and they prefer the way things are in their host culture.

Many third culture kids are expected to spend the rest of their lives in their home culture, so what do they do? They develop a third culture to try and bring the two together. They become good at observing and pretending. They build up defence mechanisms in both cultures to make sure they are accepted, but they know they will never have a ‘home’.

At times it seems hard, but it’s not all bad. As much as I had a hard time growing up I would not exchange my childhood for anything. I would change how I reacted and how I behaved but I would not exchange it.
I got to see the world. I can speak two languages. I have seen Christianity in two cultures. I can make up my own world view to try and make sense of things. I know there are so many people beyond my own little circle, I have had my horizons broadened.


What’s the point of all this? I’m not exactly sure. I guess just to make people aware that there are third culture kids out there and to take special care of them when they get back ‘home’. They may never adjust to being anywhere; accept that. - I still like to find the lowest and most inconspicuous place in a room full of people (especially if it’s mixed society) and I trace that back to my Vanuatu up bringing. I have been in Australia 10 years, but I still don’t feel like I’m Aussie – I don’t think I ever will. But I also know I will never be Ni-Vanuatu.

You know another great thing about being a third culture kid? I can not wait for Heaven. Then I will finally be home.

photo by Dad :)

Happy Birthday Daddy

A few days ago I alluded to a momentous occasion in Dads life.

Last Saturday we celebrated Dad's 50th Birthday. That's right - my father is now half a century old.
 

We had a small gathering of family and friends. My favourite part was going through all the photos of Dad life from a cute little toddler, to his long haired 'hippy' days (it was the 70's). When he married Mum, when I was born, then Joshua. The year in Vanuatu he had malaria 4 times and was scarily thin. Moving back to Australia.

We all gave speeches, and Josh noted all the things that Dad had taught him including; "It's impossible to give a good speech without crying". We all ended up in tears at one point. But honestly it seems to be our family's way - there's no getting out of it.

Everyone in the family got together and bough Dad a Bridge Climb as a present. I think climbing the Harbour bridge is a pretty good way to commemorate 50 years on this earth.

Family

There are times that I get lonely. My close friends don't live in walking distance, my family is a few hours drive away. My extended family live in other states. I walk around our little apartment and wish I had a big family, a house with people always running in and out, where there is always someone to chat to, someone who needs you, or someone to just be with (though I know it's nice to have peace and quiet too).

Dad is cerebrating a momentous occasion today. There are friends and family coming from all over the place. The house is buzzing with busyness, laughter and talking. It is so nice, comforting to be part of a community. I'm glad God created us for relationships.

I might not always have the energy to partake in it all, but oh, how it lifts my spirits!