20 March 2010

Sat 20-Mar-10 (2mth anniversary, Retreat, Fellowship, Dinner)

Today is the 2-month anniversary of Maria's passing. Some people have commented as to how quickly the time has passed. For me it feels like 6-months and the whole cancer journey about 5 years, rather than 11-months. Sometimes I get through a day––for whatever reason may feel like an eternity––and think about how I'll do this day-in day-out for (God willing) many years to come.

The day started accompanying Justin to a Men's Retreat at his church. It was an awesome experience as there was no program, but rather it was an opportunity to just have time with God, with some guidance given that we could take or leave. It was the first time for I can't say how long since I was able to have such a "quiet time" away from home. I wrote seven pages of notes from scripture that spoke to me and the parallels I started to draw with the carpet I was laying on. I got a lot out of it. While much of it is quite personal, challenging and encouraging, I will share some snippets:


  1. I was drawn to scripture that helped me in the following areas
    • my faith;
    • being a better role model as a father;
    • continuing in God's strength (I don't have much of my own); and 
    • more insight into suffering and persistence. 
  2. I was able to list my "fears" and where my "focus" lies as we continue to move on as a family of three.
  3. An experience (some may call it a vision of some description). What does the following mean for me? I'm not sure yet. I just know it was something I felt driven to soak up and write contemporaneously about. Anyway, I was praying face down on the carpet and when I opened my eyes I was confronted by the speckled carpet. As I stared at it, the following thoughts came to mind without me really thinking about them:


    • The carpet was multicoloured, which to me represented the people and world we live in.
    • Every strand of carpet was unique, as we are created uniquely.
    • The strands were all interwoven, reminding me that we are all created in God's image and are held together through relationships.
    • There were imperfections scattered throughout the carpet, just like with us.
    • When I looked out over the carpet, I was able to grasp its bigger picture. 
    • This also identified to me that the carpet clearly had end-points (the walls), illustrating to me that while on Earth we as humans have an end. How long that life will be depends very much on where we are woven into the carpet relative to the walls.
    • As I observed my "brothers" comfortable in contemplation (laying, kneeling, sitting, standing barefoot), I visualised how we as people become comfortable with what the world offers.
    • These "brothers" were all positioned in their own individual points on the carpet. I felt that while we were all there in the world with possibly a similar purpose, we all were at different points in our respective journeys.
    • When I thought/looked beyond the carpet, I visualised the concrete slab (its foundation) sitting underneath. Regardless of whether or not people saw or thought of the foundation (God), the fact was that it is there. That slab was also holding us up from falling (as God has done for me) from falling. In this case it would have been a fall of a storey or two.
    • The presence and attraction of the carpet (i.e. the world), was able to easily distract our attention away from the foundation (God) supporting it. 

While we were at church, the kids stayed with Kathryn and her girls. When we got back, us three adults had lunch and a time of fellowship while the kids watched a DVD, then went off playing.

We got home and did a few things before walking up to our dear neighbours/friends' home to have dinner with them. Got home about 9:45pm, with the kids struggling to keep awake.

Tomorrow will be church (our first visit for five weeks because of a visit to the cemetery, Maria's 40-day service, and holidays), followed by a birthday party Gabi is attending, and AFL (Aussie Rules football) registration for Ben.