Category Archives: Excuse for not blogging properly this week


With the election fast approaching I have been very busy.

I had corflutes and an event to organise. A close friend has an accident that meant I was sitting in hospital half the night. I still have to work.

I looked at the wrong readings for the week.

I am taking a short break, this week and perhaps also next week, and in fact no guarantees until after March 17th. I feel like there is now a small possibility I will actually get in to parliament and I have to focus on that and try to make it certainty.

If I become an MP I will have to leave blogging on the readings to wiser heads. If that does not eventuate then see you after the election. Either way pray for me.

If you (like me) feel a huge weight on your shoulders then I hope you (like me) can feel your shoulders gradually getting stronger.

At the end of the day those who need social justice are not a burden, they are not heavy. They are our sister and our brothers and they give life to our souls when we let them touch us.




Dearest Wisdom,
Dutifully, I sat with this week’s readings every day. I thought about prophets- good and bad and my assumption (presumption) that I speak for you. I thought about being humble and reminding people to be suspicious of my words. I thought about how even if well meant, that was a sickly performance of humility that would come across as ironic.
I thought about talking about “fake news” in our world and also critiquing the church but I realised I was performing contortionism to make that what the readings were about. I have come to Saturday afternoon on a hot and busy weekend and I have nothing but my admission.
I don’t get along with these readings and the way they are juxtaposed and I didn’t really find you in them, no not at all!
Power, authority….seems typical of the church to go on and on about those things in a top-down way while meanwhile real ordinary people are suffering disillusionment and lack of representation and lack of material things (eg food, safety) and a rapidly dying environment.
If I have encountered you (true Word) in words this week, then perhaps it was in the words of Naomi Klein and Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Or was it that I encountered you in doors being openedin the sweet juiciness of mango- slightly tart about the seed, in sister’s returning from far away, in a meal shared with a former lover and his new partner, in the affirmations of people at work, in children taking my hand begging for a story, in dispossessed peoples telling us again that enough is enough and we should not be celebrating their dispossession.
Was it you I felt in the touch of an over-hot sun and in the cool breeze that blew through it, in the trickle of the creek and the fragrance of lemon myrtle in my refrigerated water? Were you in the purr of the naughtiest of kittens or in the voice of a son telling me he had no need of my mothering (shades of Cana as I asked others to listen to him and stepped back). But if it’s bread you were in then it was in fried potatoes because I ran out of bread this week and was too busy and hot to go to the shop after work. If it’s wine then it is white wine spritzers with ice in them- something I never thought I would try.
You were in the small self-denial of refusing to turn on the air-conditioner, and in the caring colleague who came out to swap because I had been outside too long. You were in the famous writer who offered me her support and affirmation and in the refugee I was pow.erless to offer real help to You were in the 5am rising and the midnight going to rest, in the memories of having been in love and in the stabbing pain whenever I move my knee.
As usual I have used many words to try to reach you, only Word. But you have been in life more than in structures. You have brought life and meaning into each day. My readers may fail to find you in my words, but will have their own bodies and moments and meanings to seek you out in and in the end a prophet (true or false) is not so significant after all. You made us to know you not to follow each other. You made us to touch truth for ourselves not to obey authority (or not blindly).
You made us to dance and sing.
You made us to love better than this.
You made us to be loved more fully than we have known yet.

You made us for love.

For love.


Teach me to love them- the ones who bring me joyous gifts and the ones who bring me challenge. Teach me to seek out the ones who are hurting. Open my eyes and ears and heart to know I am beginning from the place of love.

From being loved.

Loved by you.

Dearest Wisdom, I leave this week’s readings to someone more wise or more obedient.

In love (however flawed).

Nothing but lame excuses, and a picture

Dear readers,

There may not be many of you but it seems some of you check back here often so I really regret that this is the second week I have nothing for you.

In my defence I wrote and presented two conference presentations this eek (short and relatively simple ones though), I wrote a creative piece for my Mum’s anniversary (of her death). I worked most days, I looked after (a little bit) a sick son and spent quality time with another son (and plotted with the third).

I networked and campaigned because I am trying to be a good political candidate. I got around without a car and agonised how to visit elderly relatives (I didn’t get to do that). I grieved my brother who died to years ago and a friend who suicided the year before that. I tried to support friends who were hurting for a host of reasons.

I was supported, loved and even gifted by the friends I have.

I hurt a lot over the marriage equality debate, the lies and hatred turned toward the queer community. I should not let it hurt me this much. I revisited old hurts.

I didn’t sleep- but my wakefulness was largely unproductive.

I began on my next liturgy and my next talk I have been invited to do, both labours of love. I did not manage (once again) to work on my article.

I wish I had something to say in my blog this week, I feel so much I need to say on forgiveness, so much has happened in my prayer life but I am tired and weak and for and introvert I need to switch off I think or I feel I ill never sleep again

“I have left undone what I ought to have done and there is no health […no untrue there is a little spark of health and beauty after all thanks to the friends who love me. There is health and there may be more] in me.”

God bless you for your patience with me. I will try again ASAP


My friend Pauline Small, who has a blog you may like to check out gave me permission to take a week off blogging to catch up on all the things I should be doing (like work, sleep, parenting etc and also bearing in mind my son’s confirmation is coming up really soon).

So I have decided that even though I love to blog, this will be my week off. I apologise if anyone actually reads every week but I do promise to be back soon 😉

Kindness is subversive

This week has been overly busy with some progress on the job front, my son’s 21st and a couple of celebrations of International Women’s Day. My one “study day” was spent mainly networking rather than writing which o an introvert like me would have seemed like a nightmare if I had planned for just how busy and social I would be this week. But it was fine (partly because the only people I had to mix with were ones I genuinely like). So I haven’t written a reflection on the next part of the mass, though I have thought a lot about the next one of those I will write (hopefully in the coming week).

I have also thought a lot about pink-collared work and about glass ceilings, especially the self-righteous kind of glass ceiling the patriarchal churches all have one way or another. I have thought about how I have a huge university debt but am paid like I just need to buy the odd pretty frock, not as though I am the one and only “bread winner” (so there has been less to go with the overpriced gluten-free bread this week). I’ve thought about the hard physical, mental and emotional labour that gets dismissed as the ultimately feminine “caring” for the youngest, oldest and most vulnerable members of society. For me caring almost becomes a dirty word, when it becomes a label trivialising hard work as just part of my nature. In this way it is steeped in the reek of exploitation.

I want to not care, I want to be tough and shiny and competitive- the minute I walk through the door into a room full of toddlers whose faces light up to see me and who ask “where are your special books to read to me” or demand a cuddle I know that as hard as I work my emotions are tangled with these exceptional people and that we do all “care” for each other after all. This knowledge is highlighted the minute one of my colleagues notices I have not had my ten-minute break or asks to swap places with me as I have been out in the sun too long, or takes over a boring cleaning task so I can do an activity with the children. Their treatment of me reminds me to watch out for who needs back-up or breathing space or just a kind word. A storm is coming so the boss sends home anyone who can be spared in the order of who has to travel on public transport longest. She says it “doesn’t count” as leaving early because she is genuinely concerned for their safety. Those who have to stay longer as parents are having trouble getting there on time. Noone complains, noone is charged for the time.

Because this is the fact of being human, like it or not we do care. There is something there that can’t be quantified and given a price tag and I feel sick with worry about that in a world where increasingly people are treated as disposable rubbish. Noone “cares” about the carers. You are supposed to be a “lifter” or an “entrepreneur”. Leaners and those leaned on have less and less value to the ones who like to stack the odds in their own favour.

But at uni this week, at a collective supervision meeting one of the students outlined her plans for her thesis. I swallowed my envy at how articulate and with-it she is and how many steps ahead of me after a shorter time and listened because I could tell she was going to be interesting. And she started with a provocative statement: “Care is subversive, kindness is activism”. She went on to talk about the neoliberal vision for the university (for the world), about the fearfulness of people to speak out and though she did not quote Freire the “banking model” of education was behind what she was criticising.

It’s a bleak view when you look at the patterns of power in the world but she has chosen to focus on activists and what makes a person one, and she seems to believe from the beginning that caring and kindness have a lot to do with it and are the loose cannon on the deck of the organised and self-interested capitalist world. It’s a romantic sort of a thought, a “love conquers all” sort of a gauntlet to throw down but I guess if I am to have any faith in God whatsoever then that is the right sort of grounding for it, and for hope.

So happy International women’s day to the carers and the sharers, the kind ones and the unselfish ones. To the ones who wipe the face of sorrow and the ones who bind wounds or teach little hearts to sing. To the unsung heroines, the weary and under-appreciated subversives, to the older women who encourage the younger women and the sisters who are stronger together.Our caring will conquer economic rationalism, our kindness is laced with a growl of righteous anger for our children. Every meal we cook, every word we write, every selfie we are laughed at for taking. We will care for ourselves, each other and the world. Our values belong to ourselves and we will not let fear and self-interest find a permanent home in our hearts.


Dear readers,

I love and appreciate that you exist and that it appears like some of you check weekly for updates. I had every intention of writing a post but my eldest son moved back in. I will write about that when I am less tired (but late)

God called me to preach AND be a mother. Not one OR the other but both. Sometimes I have to drop everything though and just help my son get settled in and then just feel overwhelmed yet warm in my heart.

I am so (materially) impoverished at the moment there is no symbolic way to “kill the fatted calf” so all I had was the answer to his apology (CAN YOU BELIEVE IT????) for moving back in.

All I could say was “I want you to be here. I am happy you are here. Now I know where you are and that you are ok. I am proud of you.”

I am overwhelmed and tired. I am worried about the details.

But I am happy…

Apology, sick-leave or maybe a holiday

To the few but valued readers I may have,

I have decided to follow through on some awkwardly bossy things I said to God in my teacher-voice this morning and focus on my career and thesis pretty much exclusively for the next indefinite time period that will be something between two weeks and the rest of the year. If I am struck by crazy inspiration I may still post but at the moment blogging is hard work and when I spoke sternly to God about not getting enough support with my life (ie career and thesis) this morning then I unexpectedly bumped into a lecturer who told me to be more focussed (and she is right).

I made a commitment to do this weekly and I did my best but this is unpaid work and I need to focus on some other things so I can thrive again (the last four months have been very difficult and i have leaned too heavily on other people).

So there is no blog this week. If you are praying people pray for me to get a wonderful thesis inspiration. Clearly if this happens I will get the help I need from lecturers and I am more than willing to work hard at this. Also pray for me to get actual teaching work (paid as a teacher- which sounds greedy but I don;t think being poor necessarily makes me a better person anyway).

If you have a look at this week’s readings (I did before I decided this) they are again very heavy on the patriarchy and the kyriearchy. How many weeks in a row is that? So maybe don’t pray for me, pray for the church. It needs an intervention pretty badly!

love, prayers and blessings