Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying ‘I will try again tomorrow’
– Mary Anner Radmacher (2012)
(click on the image to see a bigger version of the picture – I promise you it’s worth it 🙂 )
This poem was written by one of my VERY talented friend’s father, who served in the war.
About a decade ago, I arrived on Australian land for the very first time, wide- and starry-eyed, hoping for a brand new start in life. I was excited to live in this land and to call it my home, but I never truly understood the price the Anzacs paid for the freedom we have now. The first time I heard the word ‘Anzac’ was during history class in Year 10 – our history teacher was an absolute legend, having served in the war himself before. He was a great teacher, and my appreciation for the Anzacs (past, present, and future) skyrocketed because of him.
I was excited to live in this land and to call it my home, but I never truly understood the price the Anzacs paid for the freedom we have now.
Since moving here, I’ve met so many more Anzacs, their children, their grand-children, several of which are friends of mine. I’ve made friends with former and current service men and women and a friend from high school recently got enlisted into the Army too. I’m constantly praying for their safety and their families.
No words can describe how thankful I am, and how honoured I feel to be able to live in this South Land of the Holy Spirit. All I can say is, we will never forget your sacrifice, we will always remember what you’ve done, and we thank you. Again and again and again and again. ❤
On another note, I’ve recently dabbled in making Anzac cookies – tres rewarding and so very yummy. 🙂 This is the best recipe I’ve found so far if you’re looking for something not too chewy.
I found this recipe in an Anzac newsletter our local MP sent us (thank you, Luke Simpkins!) and apparently it’s from an original recipe provided by Mr Bob Larson, an Anzac present at the Gallipoli landing (thank you, Mr Larson!). Thought I’d try it and it is beautiful! These ones tend to come out more crunchy and light than the usual chewy, mind you, so if you don’t mind that, go for it! I much prefer slightly crunchy-chewy to chewy-chewy, anyways. I made a batch of these for my worship teammates who are going down to Margaret River today for a leadership retreat. 🙂
- 1 cup each of plain flour, sugar*, rolled oats, and coconut (I use desiccated coconut)
- 4 ounces butter (115g)
- 1 tablespoon treacle (or golden syrup or honey)
- 2 tablespoons boiling water (add a little more water if the mixture is too dry)
- 1 teaspoon bicarbonate soda
- Grease tray and pre-heat oven to 180 degree Celsius.
- Combine dry ingredients.
- Melt together butter and golden syrup (or whatever you decide to use instead. I much prefer using honey). Combine water and bicarbonate soda – add to butter mixture.
- Mix butter mixture and dry ingredients together.
- Drop teaspoons of mixture onto tray – allowing room for spreading (I packed my dollops in with my hands, so that could explain why it spreads less).
- Bake for 10-15 minutes or until golden (be careful especially with this step – you don’t want your cookies to spend more time in the oven than needed. Once you see it turn golden, leave it in there for about a minute longer before taking them out). Allow to cool on tray for a few minutes before transferring onto cooling rack.
- EAT! 😀
*I put in half a cup of sugar instead.
Enjoy! Give it a go and let me know what you think! 🙂
God bless and lest we forget,
D xx ❤
‘For God so loved the world, He sent His only begotten Son, and whoever that believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life’
– John 3:16.
It’s hard to describe just how much I love God. I can only say that He’s everything to me, and I honestly don’t know where I’ll be without God.
He’s gracious beyond comprehension.
And He ❤ me, and YOU, so very very very very much.
Happy Easter, everyone! 🙂
D xx ❤ ❤ ❤
April 10th – Autism Awareness Day. I know I’m a little late but it took me a while. My apologies. 🙂
Dear Special Child,
I remember the first day I met you in the school yard during my first teaching practicum. You ran, you screamed in glee, you played with your friends – to an unknowing and unaware eye, you were just a normal child having fun during recess time.
To an unknowing and unaware eye, you were just a normal child having fun during recess time.
I then found out from an Education Assistant, when you walked into my music classroom with her trailing behind you, that you had Autism Spectrum Disorder, a disorder I’ve only heard and known about in lectures, but never encountered in real life. To be honest, I was surprised. You seemed so…. normal.
At that point in time, I had a choice: to treat you with disdain and fear of the unknown, or to lavish all of my love on you and commit to helping you, and your fellow autistic peers scattered around the school to have fun, learn, and express yourselves using the most universal language the world could ever have – MUSIC.
I decided on the latter. I treated you as I would other students – I disciplined you, I cared for you, I helped you open your milk carton during lunch time, I talked to you.
In the space of a few weeks, I got to know you – the real you. When you weren’t trying to be someone others wanted you to be, when you weren’t trying to put up a front to protect yourself from being hurt, and you were just ‘you‘, you shone. You sang your heart out, you danced around the classroom, you held hands with the others in our circle of music and love, you played music games with the rest, you played instruments like a maestro, and bit by bit, you won me over.
Bit by bit, you won me over.
Sure, there were days when you frustrated your EA, your teachers, myself, and occasionally, the principal, to no end, and there were days when we simply wanted to give up on you. However, I decided to stick to my initial decision (I’m stubborn like that) – I chose to not give up on you, to continue loving you like God does, to see you and your special quirks the way God sees it, and to help you become the very best you can ever be.
I don’t know how you are going now, nor do I know where life is going to take you. But I want you to know this –
I will always do my best as a teacher to help you grow in every area of your life,
I see the ‘quirks’ in you and call them ‘special‘, not ‘disabled’,
You are loved. Always.
10 years from now, we might pass each other on the street – you may not even remember my name or my face, and I might not even remember yours. But your ‘special’-ness brought out something in me I never would have imagined was there – that protectiveness, the instincts, the unconditional love.
You helped me see me how God sees me, the quirks, imperfections and all, and you helped me realise what unconditional love is.
You changed my life in the space of 5 weeks, and I have a feeling it would last for a lifetime.
So thank YOU, my special child – YOU. ARE. LOVED.
D x ❤ ❤ ❤
So after 4 years of piano, teaching, blood, sweat, and a lot of tears, I’ve finally graduated from the University of Western Australia with a Bachelor of Music Education (Honours).
Words cannot describe how happy I am to have finished this, but yet I’m reluctant to leave this beautiful green place I’ve called a second home for 4 years.
We carry on. I’m excited to see what adventures and challenges will come my way in the next few years… 🙂
D x ❤