Everydayinspiration

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I miss you …

/ Denise / 2 Comments

Not in a sad way. I don’t cry big tears. And I don’t wear a long face because you are gone. What I miss is not sharing what my life has become with you.

Daddy, I know you would have probably asked me a million questions as to why I wouldn’t stick it out just another 5 years before I retired. And after many discussions, you’d stare off into the view quietly letting me know that even though you may not fully agree, you’d be right there supporting me all the way, as you always did. But believe me you’d be so happy for me now seeing the genuine smile on my face as I enjoy the simple things in life. Sunsets, walking on the beach any day of the week, sibling hotdog nights, gardening, traveling, sewing. Spending quality time with those who matter the most to me. My freedom to do what most pleases me.

Mum, you would be right there smiling at my side sharing special moments in my ‘cosy corner’ as we pull out pieces of fabric to make quilts together. Choosing the colours, laughing at the small pieces of fabric you saved years before, the ones I begged you to throw away, happy now to include them in a one-of-a-kind treasure for the grandkids. You would encourage me as I make my mistakes and smile a proud smile as I showed it off to you.

The boys have grown and flown the nest. Just like you warned. I know you’d be as proud of them as I am. They love like you taught us. And have made strong bonds like you showed us. They are loyal, strong and determined. And just like you had hoped, they’ve brought a special joy to my life.

The grandkids. Oh, the grandkids. You would love them, and they would love you right back. Dad with your always ready for a hug arms. Mum always ready to serve them their favourite treat. With your smile so gentle and your laugh so contagious. And of course, Dad, they all look just like you. The boys would be jumping all over the place as boys do, and the girls would have you wrapped ever so tightly around your little finger. And yes, as an answer to your prayers, I have been blessed with not one but two granddaughters.

The one thing that would make your face wince though is that they live so far away. But we’d Facetime them on your visits home and you would laugh and chat with them, always in awe at what technology could do.

But most of all I miss seeing you, kissing you hello and hugging you goodbye. Knowing that I could come visit you any day, any time.

So Thank You …

/ Denise / 2 Comments

 

I started this blog some years ago as a way to share my travels with my family and friends. It was simply meant to let everyone know where I was and what I was doing. To have them share in my excitement, my adventures. To give them a glimpse of what I was seeing and experiencing.

It has quietly evolved into an outlet for my thoughts on different aspects of my life.  It helps remind me of my growth and what’s important to me.  Hopefully in the future, my kids may have something to reference, for whatever reason.

It’s no big thing really – but oftentime I feel a vulnerability that makes me withdraw into my shell and hide away from the sheer openness of it all.

Over time however, I’ve received more than my fair share of complements. My family and friends, and sometimes total strangers, mention casually that they enjoy reading my stories. Some look forward to ‘traveling’ with me. And even sharing my adventures with their friends. Sometimes, I make you cry. Sometimes I make you laugh. Whatever the emotion, I am truly humbled that you take the time to share in my moments.

So Thank You… I am sincerely forever grateful.

On our way again…

/ Denise / 3 Comments

How many times must I make this journey to see my grandkids before I lose the excitement of getting there. Many many many more I can only imagine, for each visit brings its own thrills.

This time like 4 other times before, we are meeting one of our grandkids for the first time.

I remember Solomon our first, meeting him at 3 months old. And your first in everything always brings with it varying emotions. From excitement to anxiety. From ‘I can’t wait to get there’ to ‘Wait, is this really happening?’ From ‘Do I remember what to do with a baby’ to ‘Oh my word, I can’t wait to snuggle his baby toes’. And always to moments where your heart is so full it empties through your eyes.

But I’ve realised that those emotions never disappear. I remember Wyatt our second. Meeting him when he was already one year and a bit, after the drama that was Covid. There was a longing, a feeling of wanting to catch up on everything I had missed for the past year. FaceTime allowed us to get to know each other but only just barely. The real deal was about to happen. I could only imagine that I had been but a funny face on the other side of the screen for his entire life. Was I just a movie for him? Did he think I was a real person? What would his reaction be when he met me face to face and realised that that funny face was actually his Grandma? A permanent fixture in his life. A bit of dread mixed with anxiety but always my heart spilling out from my eyes.

I met Julius our third at the same time as Wyatt, just two months old. He was oblivious to anything around him. Just happy to have these big humans hugging and loving him day after day. He still loves his cuddles and at two months old he was an angel – ‘was’ being the operative word.

I never wanted to leave. My three grandsons were growing up and fast. I felt I had missed out on so much that it would be impossible to make up for lost time. Whatever moments I could enjoy, I did, without restrain. Whatever milestones I could witness, I committed to memory. Whatever cuddles I could get, I savoured. Leaving was the hardest part and still is. My heart would swell and my eyes would overflow. There would be moments of no return when I felt torn and broken into pieces.

These three grandchildren became the magnet that would draw me back to Australia time and time again. I was growing accustomed. I was in my comfort zone with these boys. They had also come to visit and knew that their Grandma also had a home of her own. She had dogs and fish and lived close to the sea. They had lots of cousins where Grandma lived. There were toys and books and a hill they could roll down in glee.

And so, I thought that the visits would become just a normal way of life. I could do this without the ‘what ifs’ going through my mind. Maybe the anxiety would go away and just be replaced with excitement. Maybe my heart wouldn’t swell so much and the tears would dry up.

But nope! As fate would have it, a Princess was born and everything turned topsy turvy. A little girl. How would I even know what to do with a girl? Boys were rough and tumble. I could do that. They loved being outdoors riding their bikes and digging in the sand at the beach. We mastered that. But a Princess? The excitement once again was mixed with anxiety. And the thought of meeting the first girl filled my heart to overflowing. I could hardly wait. And the journey took forever.

I met my Thea Molly Rose at 4 months old. Already her personality was shining through, and she melted my heart with her big smile and ready to come to Grandma with open ar. We bonded easily. She allowed me into her Princess world and quickly wedged her way into my heart making it ever so difficult to leave.

And now Princess no. 2 has arrived. She’ll be just 10 days old when I meet her. And I will leave her when she’s not even two months old. Already my heart is growing making room for another lifelong love. And once again the excitement is mixed with anxiety. The ‘she’s so small and will not even remember me’ haunts my every thought.

I am already preparing myself for the inevitable. A swollen heart, swollen eyes, pieces of my heart left across the globe and a longing to make the journey once again. For I already have another little love to meet before the end of the year.

I know now though, that these emotions are never far away and will resurface as soon as my journey begins, whether I like it or not.

The best time ever…

/ Denise / Leave a comment

“Let’s go firefighters” and off we went to the movies.

The excitement was building (for us anyway) ever since we discovered that Moana 2 would be showing before we left Aussie. And as soon as we told the boys we were going, we were all pumped.

“Julsie, we’re not going to school today. We are going to see Moana with Grandma and Pappi and Wyatt”. Faces lit with excitement and good behaviour was the order of the day.

The car ride was a bit long I must admit, but the songs and storytelling certainly helped in passing the time successfully. When we arrived at Wyatt’s school, the excitement intensified. Jumping and running to meet us, joyfully waving goodbye to his teachers and friends, Wyatt literally launched into the car joining his two cousins, sharing snacks, chatting about everything under this sun, singing the Moana songs like true Moana-ites.

We were finally on our way.

As we reached the Mall they were let loose and ran ahead like crazy picnies, stopping only to know which way to turn. The giggles, the screeches, the laughter, filled out hearts. We purchased 5 tickets and in reality only used 3 seats as one little firefighter needed some cuddles during the ‘scary’ parts, much to my delight, and the other two had their movie comments to discuss throughout.

“I need cuddles, Grandma.”

They’ve grown so much since we last saw them just a mere 3 months ago.

Solomon, now 5 is maturing daily. Loves story telling. Is knowledgeable on any animal topic. Is engrossed with Lego and never forgets anything as “it is right here in my memory” Grandma. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is a loving big brother, except when his rules are not followed.

Wyatt is 4 and his big brother instincts are kicking in slowly but surely. Loves riding to and from school with his Pappi, gets a kick out of playing football on an afternoon and is super excited to join his new friends at Ju Jitsu. His hugs are heartfelt and when his little face lights up you can’t help but fall in love all over again.

Little Julius just turned 3 and does not stop talking, or singing for that matter. He too loves story telling and knows how to push his big brother’s buttons pulling the “I’m the little one card” when he needs it. His hugs are to die for and his smile melts your heart.

Thea Molly Rose. A 1 year old toddler going on 13. Aware of everything around her and super sensitive to her brother’s needs, bringing him his water bottle when she sees him fussing. She’s not a push over by any means and has mastered the art of wrapping you around her little finger. Julius is wary of her as she makes her needs/demands known in no uncertain terms. I imagine she will be a force to be reckoned with.

It is heart warming to see them together. Excited and happy to be with each other as often as they can. Riding, swimming, playing, just being kids who are cousins.

It’s been a world wind of a visit. A mere 5 weeks together. And I’ll do it over and over again, as long as my body and mind can handle it.

A hesitant pilgrim in Medugorje…

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Three years into my retirement I felt the need to explore my spirituality. I had never really been interested in pilgrimages as I feared the intensity of it – the non-stop prayers, attending multiple masses daily, being lectured to on religion, visiting church after church. Or so I envisioned it to be. I also feared not being touched. Touched in the sense of not receiving the graces so many had received on their own journey.

But more and more, my friends were talking about their personal experiences, always with wonder and excitement. I began to listen. To put my hesitation aside and open my heart and mind to the possibilities. During my many previous travels I had visited Fatima in Portugal in my early twenties but purely as a place to see with no real interest in the appearance of the Blessed Virgin Mary to the young children. There was once a pilgrimage movement to Betania in Venezuela but I was never so inclined to visit. I guess I just wasn’t ready.

Medugorje however, had always intrigued me. A similar story of the Blessed Virgin Mary appearing to the little children but somehow it felt different. Maybe because it was happening in my lifetime, but I wanted to give it a try. One year in the making, with many questions asked of those who had already visited, books being read and my many must-haves and mustn’t-haves in place, I set out with close friends. Clearing my mind, I went with no expectations whatsoever.

We had joined a tour group which fit my requirements. Engaging all the right touch points, sharing enough information to pique your interest, offering enough free time to wonder on my own, affording the opportunity at all times to be as engaged as you decided to be. Initially I took on the role of spectator. Watching, listening, going through the motions. Opening my mind and my heart to whatever.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long to get into the groove and to move from spectator to full-fledged pilgrim. I soon began to feel happy, honoured, excited, to be referred to as a pilgrim. To experience what it truly meant to witness and be part of a community with such a strong faith. Where, in Medugorje, their daily life reflects their belief in a God who loves them. A life steeped in the tradition of worshipping the Risen Lord and paying homage to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Where daily mass is a lifestyle. Where honouring the apparitions by re-living the experience of the young children many years ago is part and parcel of who you are. Where doctrines of prayer are passed down from generation to generation without resistance. A small community living their faith. A small community with no crime.

We visited the Blue Cross where the Virgin Mary warned the children of the impending danger of the ‘blue angels’ (police) who were looking for them. Climbed Apparition Hill where the Blessed Virgin Mary first appeared to the children, stopping at the Wooden Cross erected in honour of the Virgin’s message of peace to Mirjana –

“Peace peace peace only peace. There must be peace. Between God and man and Between man and mankind.”

We set off early one morning to climb Cross Mountain stopping to pray the Stations of the Cross along the way. While it was physically challenging, it has left a lasting impression in my heart.

And even though I was initially hesitant to participate in daily mass and prayer, it was a natural progression to be a willing participant. Our Sunday mass was officiated by our tour group’s priest in an outdoor setting which exuded peace – a cosy forum accessed by a stoney path surrounded by trees giving it an ethereal atmosphere.

Indeed Medugorje has been aptly described as a “very special place where heaven touched the earth”.

I prayed for my children and grandchildren, for my family and friends. I offered up petitions for those in need. I prayed for myself. That I can be so filled with awe for the Risen Lord and love of the Blessed Virgin Mary, that I may reflect, if only faintly, their love. Be responsible if only in my own little bubble for the transference of peace. To try as I might, understand how to live a life that is pleasing to God.

As Mother Elvira, founder of the Cenacolo Community in 1983 to provide hope and healing to those suffering from addiction said –

“We are not born just to finish our lives here, we are born to walk towards Heaven.”

Retour À La France …

/ Denise / Leave a comment
Cycling Team 2024 – All set and ready to go

Crêpes Grand Marnier. Baguettes. Cafés. Hot Chocolate. Underground bars. Chasing the sun rays. Hitch Hiking. Hostels. Trying to ski. New Friends. Lots of laughter. Missing home. First Winter. Minimal heating. Exploring. Learning. Life’s first adventures.

Just some of the many memories of my year in France several moons ago when I left home for the first time to learn to speak French. A dream of mine for many years. I was dropped off in Grenoble by my very brave father, left in what seemed like a monastery, enrolled at the Université de Grenoble, and the rest is history.

I made some life-long friends. Came away with a good working knowledge of French and most importantly a good working knowledge of life. Learned to live on my own and learned to manoeuvre the intricacies of relationships.

And now to return to this country I once called home for a fleeting moment in time. I feel as if I should know everything but I don’t. My memories are limited to the little town of Grenoble, neatly tucked away at the bottom of the alps where as a student you felt you owned the town.

Looking forward this time to experiencing France as an adult with nowhere to be and lots of time to get there. Wanting most of all to resurrect my knowledge of French hoping to feel as comfortable as I did many years ago.

Our first day included a round trip from St. Rémy to Château des Beaux de Provence. Cycling along the cycle paths through the peaceful countryside, stumbling upon the ruins of an aqueduct and eventually exploring the Château des Beaux, an ancient medieval fortress which attracts many tourists for its amazing views, quaint shopping and interesting restaurants. But at the same time represents a warring history since the 11th Century. Its ruinous buildings add charm and intrigue. And as you venture to the top, the view opens up unexpectedly as far as Marseille leaving you gratified that you took the time to slowly explore the ins and outs of this amazing Château.

The following days just kept getting better and better. Beautiful weather. Cool breezes. Apple orchards. Open fields. Mountain Views. Quiet cycle paths. Rolling hills presenting a challenging ride. Passing through the small towns of Moleges, Saint Andiol, Plan d’Organ stopping in others for lunch and the much needed beverage.

Crispy cold white wine and local beers make the cycle all the more worthwhile. Chatting on the way, stopping to take the must-have pics to preserve our memories of this journey. At no time imagining the beauty of the towns before us.

La Fontaine de Vaucluse captured our hearts.

Upon approaching we stopped off at what we believe to be a beautiful respite for the day. What seems to be a river with clear water emerald in colour, lined by stone buildings centuries old carefully preserved. We admire those daring to venture into the water on kayaks imagining that the water is near freezing. Thanks but no thanks.

But as we coast into la Fontaine de Vaucluse we are struck by the unassuming beauty of this town. Large Sycamore trees encircle the Centre fountain making for a cosy welcoming atmosphere. The chitter chatter in the restaurants that surround, the babbling of the water flowing in and around the town, the cobblestone streets make it the perfect stop for the next two nights.

We make the most of our stay by exploring the narrow streets, searching for the source of the water and finally hiking up the steep stoney pathway to the ruins of an old castle on the hill taking in the majestic views from the top.

I finally taste my first real French Crepe Grand Mariner in what feels like a century, and all is good. Bringing back memories of a time long ago when my journey had only just begun.

And so it went from St. Rémy to Châteaux des Beaux, La Fontaine de Vaucluse to l’Isle sur la Sorgue, Roussillon, Cavaillon…. One enchanting village after another. Capturing your heart with its authenticity and charm. Comforting you with its wine and food.

Adding to my memories of Crêpes Grand Marnier, Baguettes, Cafés with Escargots, Wine, Cycle paths, open fields, Apple Orchards, Vineyards, Biking, Fine Dining. Let’s not forget the laughter and friendship that will last a lifetime.

Cycling Team 2024 – What a blast we had!

Retirement Year No. 4…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

I’ve been super busy. Not words that I ever thought I’d utter once I retired. But life has been relentless. Relentless with its blessings. Relentless with its surprises. Relentless with its opportunities.

When I retired I dove into four main hobbies I wanted to explore. Quilting, Mosaic, Macrame and Writing. I wanted to master, if not just dabble in acquiring and improving on these skills. With no other purpose than to learn something new. Explore my creativity. Keep myself motivated and occupied.

And if you know me I dove in head first. No swimming in the baby pool for me. So I signed up with the University of YouTube and began to learn everything I could. For days and weeks on end I’d pore over videos of experts doing their thing. And I got to acquiring the necessary tools to practice what I had learned. I loved every single moment of this learning experience.

Quilting was both easy and challenging. I could always manage a sewing machine, having started sewing at my mother’s side as a young child. Making the quilt tops proved to be simpler than I expected but nonetheless exciting. Watching large pieces of fabric turn into small pieces of fabric and then magically morph into varying designs at the flip of a half square triangle. That was thrilling. The actual machine quilting needed some practice and specific tools. And I’ve been forging ahead learning something new about quilting and myself with each quilt I sew.

Mosaic took me out of my comfort zone. I had taken a course in the art of mosaic several years prior but never followed up until now. I was rusty and again turned to YouTube for inspiration. I marvelled in the mixing of grout or concrete, cutting of tiles, watching different patterns and images come to life, much like the art of quilting. My garden is now spotted with stepping stones and my home is adorned with some mosaic wall art. Products of my mosaic adventure.

Macrame just soothes me. My husband would frequently call out to me in my hideaway loft asking what I was doing, and, with a smile, I’d simply answer “tying knots”. To make sure these were creative knots and not knots of some sinister vice, he built a macrame ‘thing-a-majig’ for me to sit and play with my cord to my heart’s content. I’ve made wall hangings, plant holders, hat holders, table runners – and there is still so much cord and projects on my wish list, I’ll probably need another few years of arthritis-free fingers to complete them.

My writing kept me grounded through these explorations. Helping me to focus, to keep my thoughts in check. It allowed me to discuss different topics – those close to my heart, and those close to the hearts of others. I’ve published most through my blog, some through a local magazine, but have kept a lot to myself. Still shy. Not yet ready to be shared. But with all that’s going on in my life, the whole writing adventure surely gets pushed aside from time to time.

Fast forward to 2024 and I had to make a decision. Too many hobbies meant being a Jack of all trades and a master of none. So I took a critical look at my work and my skills. Did a deep dive into my true moments of joy. And made the decision to focus on one that gives me a reason to wake up in the morning. Have another as a nice-to-have, that sweet pleasure we all need in our life and one more to keep me grounded. Pretty much a 60-30-10 sort of notion. Balance. Or so I thought.

Then there’s the sand to add to the bottle – the glue keeping all these balls together – gardening, exercise and family. These fill me up in different ways. The first affords me the space to sit and dream every day, the second keeps me outdoors exploring and my heart pumping to see another day and the third makes everything all worthwhile.

When I retired I never wanted to use the word ‘busy’ to describe my life again. The Oxford Thesaurus defines ‘busy’ as occupied or unavailable. ‘Occupied’ sounds unapproachable and ‘Unavailable’ just sounds selfish. ‘Busy’ doesn’t really sound like a happy to be.

So I’ve decided that what I am, is enjoying the fruits of a well-deserved retirement. Long but apt. My hands are full with exciting projects and my heart is overflowing with unimaginable joy.

It’s a short list…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

So many social media posts list up to 40 life-long learnings of those of us blessed with age. Lists that, while trying to help those younger in years to skip the line to really understanding what life should be all about, tend to dismiss the fact that the very struggles of daily life, navigating the ups and downs are in fact, part and parcel of growing up and finally reaching the stage when you too can actually own the simple cliche – don’t sweat the small stuff. The journey, in my opinion, is the real deal.

So this is my short but sweet list.

1. You are in control. Be accountable. Take responsibility for your life.

2. You are supposed to make mistakes. Own them. Learn from them and move on.

3. People will always have something to say. If it’s not true – forget it. If it’s true – do something about it.

4. Laughing is therapy. Laugh at and with yourself first and foremost. You will find that you actually have a great sense of humour.

5. Spend time alone. Become your own best friend.

Do you have a list?

Thea Molly Rose turns one today…

/ Denise / 6 Comments

I am a mother of 3 boys. I’ve lived the life of lots of talk, lots of action, constant movement until bedtime for many many years. Mine were the only female hormones jumping up and down in my house. Even my pets were all male. Testosterone abounded. The camping, the fishing, rough and tumble games, hiking, outdoor sporting activities. You name it. We did it. All with the boys in mind.

Then one day I took the off chance to see if I could pass at least one of my hobbies onto my boys. I called them all together, turned on my sewing machine, and started to show them the joy of putting fabric together to create something new and useful. At first, they seemed interested. And I was pleased. Such sweet boys humouring their mother. But as I went on, I noticed through the corner of my eye that my audience was dwindling slowly but surely. Until my youngest could take it no more and sneaked away to giggle somewhere with his brothers. I must admit I was a bit hurt, but I smiled. At least I tried. Fortunately though, my love of the garden was not lost on them. And today at least two take pride in growing their own food and creating a warm and welcoming outdoor environment for their families.

And the boys kept coming. One, two and then three grandsons were born. I felt at home. I knew what to do. I knew what they’d love. I knew how to be rough and tumble. I knew how to play their games. I knew how to love them. I was in my comfort zone.

Then little Thea Molly Rose graces our presence. For a long time, I had wished for a little girl to love. But being a tomboy myself growing up, I could never truly imagine what it would be like to have a little girl around. I never played with dolls, I never liked wearing dresses, I loved playing cricket with my elder brother, and I spent a lot of time climbing trees with our neighbours. So, Thea has literally pulled me out of my comfort zone, for I imagine that she will like all those things that I have no experience with. But maybe, just maybe, I can teach her to sew.

Thea turns one today. I met her when she was just 5 months old and left her two months later. We were just getting to know each other. I loved having her fall asleep in my arms. I loved taking her for a walk, and I loved our morning cuddles, as short lived as they were. I’ll meet her again in one month’s time which may very well seem like a first meeting all over again. For she will be a toddler. With her own mind. And her developing personality. She may no longer fall asleep in my arms, but I am hoping for some morning cuddles and most certainly looking forward to her teaching me how to love a little girl.

What 70 really looks like…

/ Denise / 2 Comments

I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I discovered that my mother had just turned 40. I stared at her cutting her birthday cake with my father and I wanted to burst into tears. She was smiling and happy. We were all happy. But to me 40 was such a big number. A number that felt ions away and in my childlike mind, my mother didn’t have much longer to live. And so, 40 became for me the big bad age.

When I turned 40, in the peak of health, with a young family like my mother had been some years prior, I felt dread. For no other reason than what my mind had recorded so long ago. I didn’t want to receive any birthday greetings so I escaped with my small family where no-one could reach me, just for the day. Since then, though, I’ve realised that age is just a number. Your health, your happiness, your family are a few of the most important things in life. And now that I am in my sixties and the real big numbers are staring me in the face, I dig deep into my memories for what those ages could possibly mean.

My mother breathed her last breath just a few months past the age of 70. She had been ailing since her early sixties. My father heroically took on the role of caregiver like no other. And even with her family rallying around her, her quality of life began to fade towards her late sixties. She had lost her speech. I can only imagine that she felt trapped no longer being able to communicate as she had wished. And yet, even with this memory, the dread that I felt at 40 no longer haunts me. It has now been replaced with a sense of newness of life. For in my own experience, there’s still time for adventure. There’s still time to learn new things. There’s still time to love – your family, your friends, yourself.

A few weeks ago, my sister turned 70. We had been joking about it for some time, reminiscing on our experiences and wondering what this new stage would bring for her. The day after we celebrated her, she messaged me – it’s not so bad after all – she said. I smiled a big smile. For my sister has now become my new beacon of what 70 looks like.

And what does 70 look like? It is at peace with oneself. It is accepting of what life has to offer. It is grateful for every moment, every day. It is quirky and has a sense of humour. Ready to go new places and experience new things. Its arms are wide open welcoming love and adventure. It is wise. It is kind. It is generous of heart and spirit.

Thanks to my sister, I look forward to 70, hoping that I too will find that it’s not so bad after all.