A peaceful day

Hello.

The photo above is of some scones that Jemimah made at Christmas time. I do not know why it is on my work computer, but it is, and I think it brightens up this particularly dismal post just a tad. There is a particularly nice photo of my darling Mum and Dad as well, which makes me a little bit happy. Well, it makes me smile at any rate.

Nothing makes me happy today.

Image from here

Generally I am not a big reader of women's magazines. I read lots and lots of things, the cereal packet included, but Australia's number-one monthly magazine, The Australian Women’s Weekly, and our number-one weekly magazine, Woman’s Day, are rarely among them.

Recently though, in my fragile emotional state, I've been unable to read my usual deep and meaningful fare. I have been unable to concentrate on my literary diet of living books, food labels, and fine classic literature, and have found myself digesting frivolous fluff much more often than I would like.

A couple of weeks ago I purchased the August edition of The Australian Women's Weekly. It was all the talk about Julia having been airbrushed that sucked me in. Well, that and the article about Azaria, to tell you the truth.

Now The Weekly is no my usual reading material, but it is not too bad as far as women's mags go. It's not like Cosmo or Cleo or Dolly - full of sex - or like NW or New Idea or Who - full of scandalous gossip - no, by their standards The Weekly is pretty tame. My mum always chooses it to read if she travels anywhere by train, and I noticed a copy of the current edition on my Auntie's table when I was visiting recently. Their readership is a staggering 2.2 million, meaning that about 13% of the Australian population reads it. It's pretty safe really...or so I thought.

Anyhow, so this is what I learned within the covers of that esteemed scientific journal, The Australian Women's Weekly:

1. Plants and seeds sown during the best lunar phase and in the appropriate zodiac sign show increased vigour. So now I know. I don't prune my roses in August because they are dormant then - I must prune them between the 4th and the 9th between the last quarter of the old moon and the new moon on the 10th. Oh well. Missed that window of opportunity. Wonder what will happen to them now? S'pose they'll die. I should have planted my vegies earlier too - after 8.44 am on the 13th up until the 16th or between the 20th to 22nd before 11.38 am. See. I've had it wrong all this time. I am clearly quite deluded over my gardening abilities.
2. According to my zodiac, apparently the last 12 months have been pretty bad for me. August should be better. Given circumstances over the first three weeks of August I fail to understand why things should be so good now, but apparently that's my fault. My brother and mother share my zodiac sign (along with 12th of the population - who'd a thunk?) so obviously it is their fault as well.
3. Fortunately, I can discover more about what my stars are predicting by obtaining the personalised reading for my star sign. These have been prepared especially for readers of The Weekly - which makes us different from non-readers, I guess. It will cost me $1. 27 per minute, but that includes GST, so that's a pretty good deal.
4. Angelina and Brad's kids, Shi and Pax get their karma from their mum. They are wild.
5. Angelina is an Earth Goddess.
6. Mum Blogs are a lifeline for 50-something women whose husband have run off, 30-somethings at home with sick kids or 40-something single mothers. That's why we blog. Apparently.
7. Everybody should be doing yoga once a week. Apparently it feels good and will get me back on track. (That's why my zodiac wasn't working - no yoga.) Since the goal of yoga is to unite one's transitory self with the infinite Brahman, the pantheistic Hindu god, clearly it is the path to spiritual growth and enlightenment. Sigh, I have been so misled my whole entire life.
8. A gorgeous new workout outfit will inspire you more than nothing else. Wanting the cutest outfit is not superficial, and is a walking must-have. A new pair of Adidas sneakers is $240.00, or you can indulge in the MBT Baridi Silver shoes for a mere $379.00. Go on - you're worth it, and the right gear will make all the difference to how you feel about yourself.
9. Meditation eases stress, reduces pain, increases focus and helps you sleep. That's my problem. If I'd been meditating I wouldn't have had trouble focusing on the cereal packet and I wouldn't have ever bought The Weekly. Apparently meditation's main purpose is to allow me to make friends with myself. This will make me happy. It will enhance my mental and physical health and will show me the true nature of reality. Yep, it does all that.
10. Astrology can make your hair more lustrous. Simply trimming my hair when the waxing moon is in a fertile zodiac sign will improve its condition. Honestly. If I'd read The Weekly sooner I too could have hair like Angelina. I would be an Earth Goddess with wild karma too. Bet she cut her hair between the 13th and 15th after 8.44 am.

So this is what Australian women believe. This is the Australian Woman's Worldview.

And they make fun of me for believing in a Creator God. Yep. So unbelievable, that.

I don't get questioned much about our reasons for homeschooling. My husband does though - especially during his week skiing with Jemimah, where it seems that this is the main topic of discussion - that and my Supermum status. Anyhow, when the questioner is a Christian parent, it seems that the conversation mostly gets onto dinosaurs. something like "Oh, I see, too much emphasis on dinosaurs in the curriculum for your liking, eh?" What I take this to mean is that those parents think I am concerned about evolution being taught at public school. Well, yes I am, but I think that most Christian parents reassure themselves that they teach their kids creation at home and so they have that furphy covered very well thank you very much. I can homeschool, but they'll just correct the creation/evolution standpoint on Sundays.

But see, I don't think that the Evolution Debate is the problem with Public School. I believe that the problem with Public School is that it teaches an Australian Worldview.

And as you may have seen by my reading of The Australian Women's Weekly, the average Australian's Worldview is very, very different from my own.

School will teach your children to be Australian. It will teach them to be materialistic, to live by the standards of man, to make decisions based on their own wants and desires. They will do 'what is right in their own eyes'. (See Judges 21:25.) It is the Australian way.

I want my daughter to be taught the Worldview that has Genesis and biblical creation as its foundation. I want her to learn to live to glorify God and enjoy him forever. I want her to have Christian ethics, values and behaviour. I want her to learn the biblical idea of tolerance instead of the all inclusive Australian 'tolerance'. I want to teach her the Kingship of Christ. I want the Bible to be her guidebook for all of her decisions, all of her values, all of her behaviour, and all of her life choices. I want her to know why we don't do yoga or meditate or run our lives according to the stars. I want her to understand why we do not live by the standards of The Australian Women's Weekly.

That's why we homeschool.

If it means that our plants don't thrive and our hair grows a little more slowly, then I guess that's the price I'll need to pay.

Our new folksong - a fun one to dance to. You should hear us singing the chorus...oh my!

Farewell to Old England forever
Farewell to my rum skulls as well
Farewell to the well known Old Bailee
Where I once used to be such a swell.

Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ay,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty
Oh we are bound for Botany Bay.

There's the captain as is our Commander,
There's bo'sun and all the ship's crew
There's first and the second class passengers,
Knows what we poor convicts goes through.

Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ay,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty
Oh we are bound for Botany Bay.

'Taint leaving Old England we cares about,
'Taint 'cos we mispells wot we knows
But becos all we light finger'd gentry
Hops around with a log on our toes.

Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ay,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty
Oh we are bound for Botany Bay.

For seven long years I'll be staying here
For seven long years and a day
Just for meeting a a cove in an alley
And stealing his ticker away

Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ay,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty
Oh we are bound for Botany Bay.

Oh had I the wings of a turtle-dove,
I'd soar on my pinions so high,
Slap bang to the arms of my Polly love,
And in her sweet presence I'd die.

Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ay,
Singing too-rall, li-oo-rall, li-ad-di-ty
Oh we are bound for Botany Bay.

Now all my young Dookies and Duchesses,
Take warning from what I've to say,
Mind all is your own that you touch-es-es,
Or you'll find us in Botany Bay.

Lovin', lovin', lovin' that a lovely flock of blue wrens has moved in to our peaceful garden.

I know the photos are pretty lousy, but I just wanted you to see these lovely little creatures. I so enjoy watching their delightful antics through my bedroom window each morning as I sip my early morning cuppa. So sweet.

Note to self: Must find time to read Leslie Rees' Bluecap and Bimbi the Blue Wrens to Jemimah sometime soon.

Lovin' lovin' lovin' the spring display in the Courtyard. Daffodils make me happy. Do they do the same to you? Ah yes, the long sultry days of summer will soon be here.

Lovin' lovin' lovin' the wonderful harvest of out of season tomatoes in the kitchen garden. We haven't stopped harvesting from these plants since last summer. Yum!

What are you lovin' today?

Oh yes, it's almost here...



Are you looking forward to the 1st September too?

The gift of spelling depends upon the power the eye possesses to 'take' (in a photographic sense) a detailed picture of a word; and this is a power and habit which must be cultivated in children from the first. When they have read 'cat,' they must be encouraged to see the word with their eyes shut, and the same habit will enable them to image 'Thermopylae.' This picturing of words upon the retina appears to be to be the only royal road to spelling...

Charlotte Mason Home Education p 240

Quick! Hide me! The Ambleside Online Police may be knocking on my door some time in the next few weeks. I have strayed from the curriculum. I have failed them. I have gone my own way.

But only a little bit...honest, Officer!

For some time now I have been concerned with Jemimah's spelling. It is, to be perfectly honest, atroshus. Reely, reely terrabul even. Now this shouldn't surprise me unduly. I shouldn't even be worried, because unlike our local public school, where kids bring home their first list of spelling words within the first week of Grade Prep, Jemimah has never had a lesson in spelling in her life. She reads beautifully, she has been taught a few phonics rules - just a few, and that is it. The problem is that it shows. She can't spell.

Now I was a natural speller. I was always good at it. The idea that my clever daughter might not be horrifies me.

This kid can't spell basic words - like what and ball and when. Really common words. Words she has seen over and over and over. "Shut your eyes! Picture what the word looks like! Now can you spell it?" I ask her, almost pleading. But no. She can't. I could. Clearly Miss Mason thought this was the idea as well.

So now I have decided to do something about it. I am going to teach her to spell. And I am going to do it now - in the third term of AO3. Which is when, as her teacher, I have judged that she needs it and not in AO4 or AO5 when she is ten.

Which is why the AO Police will be arresting me any day now and taking me away for re-education with the peasants in Siberia.

Now when I think rationally I believe that if I introduced spelling at the stage AO recommends, it would work, but when I noticed that children of 8 and 9 were using dictation as an aid to spelling in Charlotte Mason's classrooms I decided that it was only logical to introduce it in my classroom as well. Especially since my student was aware of her poor spelling and was highly motivated to do something about it.

Dictation lessons, conducted in some such way as the following, usually result in good spelling. A child of eight or nine prepares a paragraph, older children a page, or two or three pages. The child prepares by himself, by looking at the word he is not sure of, and then seeing it with his eyes shut. Before he begins, the teacher asks what words he thinks will need his attention. He generally knows, but the teacher may point out any word likely to be a cause of stumbling. He lets his teacher know when he is ready. The teacher asks if there are any words he is not sure of. These she puts, one by one, on the blackboard, letting the child look till he has a picture, and then rubbing the word out. If anyone is still doubtful he should be called to put the word he is not sure of on the board, the teacher watching to rub out the word when a wrong letter begins to appear, and again helping the child to get a mental picture. Then the teacher gives out the dictation, clause by clause, each clause repeated once. She dictates with a view to the pointing, which the children are expected to put in as they write; but they must not be told 'comma,' 'semicolon,' etc. After the sort of preparation I have described, which takes ten minutes or less, there is rarely an error in spelling. If there be, it is well worth while for the teacher to be on the watch with slips of stamp-paper to put over the wrong word, that its image may be erased as far as possible. At the end of the lesson, the child should again study the wrong word in his book until he says he is sure of it, and should write it correctly....

Charlotte Mason Home Education pp241-2

At least when the Ambleside Online Coppers come a calling they will comforted to know that I am teaching spelling the CM way - through visualisation; that power of the eye to take a detailed picture of a word. Miss Mason was of the opinion that this was the key to good spelling.

With this as our premise, she then goes on to caution us about the danger inherent in a child being allowed to see incorrect spelling:

An error once made and corrected leads to fearful doubt for the rest of one's life, as to which was the wrong way and which is the right. Most of us are haunted by some doubt as to whether 'balance,' for instance, should have one 'l' or two; and the doubt is born of a correction. Once the eye sees a misspelt word, that image remains; and if there is also the image of the word rightly spelt, we are perplexed as to which is which.

Charlotte Mason Home Education p 241

She's right, isn't she? Lose or Loose; Chose or Choose? We all have words that trip us up because we have seen them being spelled incorrectly as often as we have seen them error free.

Fortunately, Miss Mason then goes on to explain to us a method that 'usually results in good spelling'. It is called Studied Dictation, and in the quote above she explains exactly how to go about it. Notice that there are no spelling lists. Words are learned in context along with the accompanying grammar and punctuation. The words are meaningful. The passage is from a living book - generally one of the child's literature texts. The child understands what is being said.

The only problem that I could see with Miss Mason's method was that it required prior preparation by her teacher...and that meant me. Now I am reluctant to commit to much that requires work by me out of school hours. Those hours are family time. It is my practice to prepare thoroughly at the beginning of the year; to revise at the beginning of each term and then to do very little more. I was a little reluctant to commit to this process of selecting passages that fit all of Miss Mason's criteria, but which also covered all of the basic spelling words - regular and irregular that my child would need to learn during her time at school.

Then along came Sonya. Hip Hip Hooray!

I'll leave Sonya to have a chat to you about how to do Charlotte Mason Studied Dictation the easy way. It's called Spelling Wisdom, and it's published by Sonya Shafer through Simply Charlotte Mason. Have a listen to her now:



To me, Spelling Wisdom is CM dictation the easy way. Today's 6000 most frequently used words are presented in the words or great writers, and many are from books or authors Jemimah has studied: Robert Louis Stephenson's poems; The Bible; Shakespeare; Hans Christian Anderson; Robinson Crusoe; Sherlock Holmes; Wind in the Willows; and more. Many of them, in fact, are the very same passages I would select myself if I were preparing dictation from scratch.

Even better, the programme comes in both British/Australian and American English. Spiffing!

We've only been using the method now for a few weeks, but already Jemimah's spelling has improved immeasurably. The spelling of ought leads to bought, sought, thought, fought and wrought. First begats thirst. Preach leads to teach, peach, and reach. More importantly, her confidence has improved. She is no longer embarrassed by the fact that her six year old cousins spell better than she does. She is coming ahead in leaps and bounds, and she knows it.

Jemimah is still a pretty lousy speller, and will be for some time to come, but I now have confidence that she will be able to spell reasonably eventually, and that allows this natural speller to breathe a sigh of relief.

When I tell all that to the Ambleside Online Policeman, do you think he'll let me off? Siberia gets pretty cold in winter I'm told.

Sorry - gotta go hide.

There's a knock at the front door.

...you'll find me here. In the laundry. Ironing.

It's easy to tell that she's a princess, isn't it, when the ironing basket looks like that.

Pink.

For Richele.

The sign on our study door. In case we forget.

When it's rainy and cold outside, snuggle up under a huggly cuggly Grannie and listen to the sound of the rain on the roof. That's what we do.

It's what we did yesterday, cos boy, did it rain! And rain. And rain. And rain. When you've lived in drought your whole entire life like Jemimah has, then that's pretty rare. Pretty exciting too. Especially when the drains block and the road floods and the poor council workers have to come and clear them. That's really exciting. Quite thrilling even!

As things have spiralled out of control in recent weeks I've found myself more and more drawn to the simple pleasures of life. My family and my home have assumed their rightful place at the top of my priorities. I've spent more time cuddling on the sofa with Jemimah reading books or knitting or crocheting Grannie. We've eaten toast and Vegemite hot from the toasting fork and the open fire, butter dripping through our fingers. We've baked. Pikelets, chocolate freckles, scones, cup-cakes and other tasty treats have graced our table for a moment before being consumed by the hungry hoards. We've cuddled, we've laughed and we've drunk champagne. And pots of tea and big steaming mugs of freshly ground coffee.

On days like yesterday this all sounds like a perfectly legitimate way to spend the day.

We started with winter warming bowls of porridge. My Dad's favourite. Salt, of course, and brown sugar.

Maths was certainly more fun wearing a princess dress as a hat. As you do...

Then you have to do lots of Aussie folk dancing to warm up.

Lots.

Of course.

Hot cheese toasties with the Colonel for lunch. Mmmmmmm

Then more snuggling. As you do. When it's cold outside.

Today it is sunshiny. Which is good, because it's hockey tonight. Kids who have lived their whole lives in drought don't take too kindly to playing games in the rain. And this mum doesn't relish being a spectator in the cold either. I'm the one who stays home when the others go to the snow, remember? Cold? Ugh! I'm looking forward to a little bit of spring sunshine.

And now I must go. We're off for a nature walk along the river. It's flowing now you know. And that's treat enough as it is.

If you've lived your whole life in a drought.

Camellias. Tsubaki. The Japanese call them 'Samurai Flowers' because of their propensity for losing their heads whole.

Potoro Potoro

I love them; possibly because they flower in the middle of winter. Harbingers of the much longed-for warmth of spring. Soon we will emerge from fuyu gomori 冬篭 - our warm cuddly winter hibernation - and enjoy days in the sunshine once more.

The camellia reminds me of that.

This is my Princess in the snow. I've just been watching some videos of her skiing, and she's pretty good, I must say. Much better than me, that's for sure, but that's not saying much. More importantly, she had a ball. It was an absolute delight hearing her bubbling over with excitement as I spoke to her on the telephone each morning and night of her trip. It made me feel happy just listening to her.

Amongst the videos I discovered a delightful little gem. It's a poem, written/spoken by Jemimah the night she arrived when she was supposed to be asleep. There's no picture, so while you're listening, scroll down to see some photos of Falls Creek to put you in the mood.

Noises in the snow

Shhhh
Can you hear the noises the people are making
just because they are enjoying themselves in the snow?

Down there somewhere is my father
having a wonderful time.

Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip of the shower.

Chattering noises of people downstairs
Laughing away at jokes.

And the noises of people outside in the snow.
Going around.

It's wonderful being at the snow.

Here's a silly one to finish - a picture of the Princess Jemimah and her good friend the Princess Eye on Dress-up night. Clearly very silly and very fun. I like.

If you've been reading my blog for a while you may know that I was a bullied kid. It is not something I talk about a lot, because frankly, even decades later, thoughts of that time still hurt me deeply. Name calling, deliberate exclusion, verbal abuse, vandalising of books and property... all were part of every day reality for me. The bullying went on unrelenting for many years, and it has moulded my character to this day.

Did you know though, that I was not bullied by a bully? Well, not unless I went to a school populated solely by bullies. No, the kids that made my life a misery were in the most part nice kids. Just not to me. The worst culprits were a boy named Eric and his friend, John. Eric was not very bright and his ears stuck out like those of the current Leader of the Opposition. (Did I really say that?) Eric was bullied too, only not as badly as I was, and I think he was just relieved that there was one worse off than he.

I can remember one occasion when I, too was a bully. Tegwin was the object of some terrible name calling by me one day as she walked across the quadrangle to maths class. I can remember it as if it were yesterday, and I my cheeks still burn with shame as I recall how I yelled her ugly nickname aloud for all to hear. I never did it again. I was so ashamed of myself.

I wonder - were all the other kids ashamed when they teased me?

Maddie was bullied too. The first day at her new school was the worst day of her whole life. Nobody spoke to her; nobody looked at her. "They're all busy with their games and friends. It's like I've turned invisible," Maddie muttered. (Oh, how I longed to be invisible sometimes - it was so much preferable to being noticed.) At home Maddie threw herself on the bed, and cried until supper time.

Unlike me though, Maddie was strong.

Next morning Maddie woke up as a monster, with fangs and claws and wild, wild hair. She grinned an evil grin.

"Now the kids will notice me," she said.

Miss Maddie Monster decided to make mischief.

Unlike me, Maddie decided to fight back. Instead of being bullied, Maddie became the bully.

Then one day, Miss Maddie Monster makes Little Emma cry.

Written by The Book Chook, Susan Stephenson, Monster Maddie is written in rhythmic alliterative prose that kids will love to speak aloud.

She put ants in their pants, dirt in their shirts, and ooze in their shoes.
...Miss Maddie Monster laughed and shook her wild, wild hair.

All children need to read Monster Maddie.

All kids need to discuss it too, and it will come as no surprise to those familiar with the feathery goodness of Susan's blog to discover that at the back of the book are six pages of activities for teachers and parents to help kids explore the themes contained in Monster Maddie. The activities include creative writing, thinking and estimating, discussion starters to help address the issue of bullying and making friends, drama and more. Susan's ongoing commitment to providing quality activities for children shines forth in this book.

A few months ago my beautiful Jemimah was subjected to a weekend of horrible bullying. At a Church Camp, of all places. The kids were nice - their parents are my friends. A significant percentage of them were homeschooled as well. When I heard those kids saying nasty things about my precious princess and deliberately excluding her from their games, I could have cried. Actually, who am I kidding? I did cry. Bucket loads. I so wanted to protect my daughter from this sort of behaviour - it was one of the reasons I chose to homeschool.

Don't assume that your nice children would never bully another child. Please.

Every child needs to read Monster Maddie.

Every child.

Excuse me as I wipe a tear from my eye.



You can purchase Monster Maddie from Amazon or from Guardian Angel Publishing. Find more about the book at The Book Chook.

Soft boiled eggs and soldiers. Eggs from a girlfriend's hens. Sliced white bread from the bakery with lashings of butter. A sprinkling of salt.

My family to share it with.

Oh yes, it is good to be home.

We begin our final term of school today after our unexpected super-long holiday. You'll find us in the sitting room by the open fire snuggling under Grannie. She is almost, almost done. So satisfying that.

A Peaceful Day indeed.

The skiers are on their way, and already I've started spending money.

On books, of course. Internet shopping is so good, and I am so bad. I have ordered this and this. So frivolous. So delicious.

Perhaps I had better get going to Geelong and get away from the computer. On the way I am visiting the factory shop here. I can be bad there as well.

While I am away being naughty and spending money you could have a listen to Ken.



He is very interesting and quite witty too. I found him on Jamie's blog. Jamie is good. Not naughty like me.

While I am gone I will be spending time with my family, reading, eating chocolate, knitting, crocheting, shopping, visiting Ezard - my favourite restaurant in the whole wide world, soaking in the tub, watching some films, drinking champagne, having a massage with my niece at endota, and sleeping. In no particular order and not all at the same time. Even I am not that clever.

Naughty and clever, but not that clever.

Nice though.

See you when I get back.

Just to prove that I am thinking about school a little teeny tiny bit.

Only 12 weeks to go until the end of AO3. Where has it gone?!

Don't they grow up fast? One blink and she'll be a grownup.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

Good morning, Girlies!

Sorry for making you all cry yesterday - that wasn't my intention, truly.

There've been plenty of tears over here too in the past few weeks, but life goes on, and there have been plenty of happy times as well- all the more precious because they're the last times we'll ever spend with my much loved Dad.

Here's some of the nice stuff we've been doing in the last week or two:

• Gaining comfort from the Psalms
• Knitting (you'll need to wait and see what)

• Making Potato People
• Playing Lego and Uno
• Comforting visitors
• Working on Grannie
• Eating cheese
• Drinking tea. And coffee. And champagne. And Drambuie.
• Reading this
• Making cards
• Catching up with cousins
• Finishing my second cushion (no buttons yet, you'll notice)



• Doing an incy-wincy bit of school
• Laughing and reminiscing
• Drooling over this
• Answering the telephone
• Renewing acquaintances with old family friends
• Playing dress-ups
• Having brekky in bed



• Eating icecream direct from the punnet
• Searching for thistles
• Holding hands
• Listening to this
• Celebrating a birthday - not mine



• Cackling over this
• Laughing over old photographs
• Hugging each other
• Being a family

Nice. Old, but nice.

Hello there, my lovelies.

Thank you so much for patiently waiting for my return. I've missed you all, and it's nice to be here. It has been a huge couple of weeks for our family, but we're now coming through the other side, stronger than we were before. Scarred and wounded and violated, but nicer, and more considerate, and more conscious of the importance of strong family bonds and great friends.

My Dad had many, many friends. As I looked around the many hundreds of people that had come to give thanks for my Dad on Tuesday afternoon, I couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pride for this man who to me was just Dad, but to these people was a colleague, or a fellow Gideons member or the President of their Probus club, or a work mate on a farm, or a childhood pal or ...well...or something. My Dad did lots and lots of stuff, and in everything he did it was the friends he made that were important to him.

But there were a smattering of people there on Tuesday who didn't know my Dad very well at all, and no, they weren't just there for the free feed - or I don't think they were - they were there because they were friends of mine...or of my brother...or of my sister. They were there because we were hurting and they cared. It was so good to see them, and they were such an incredible support on that terribly sad day.

I have just returned from the post office where I posted a couple of the Orders of Service to friends that I truly believe would have been amongst that number at the Church in Geelong to support me if they'd lived nearer and been able. I've never even met these girls, but they're amongst my closest friends and I know they care about me just as much as the friends who hugged me and held my hand on Tuesday.

I know them because of A Peaceful Day. I know them because I blog.

Many of the people I've come to know through the blogosphere blog no more. Too time consuming, they say. Time that should be spent with family or homeschooling or cleaning the house. Unnecessary, addictive, and unproductive. Oh, how I disagree! Blogging for me is a lifeline. Blogging is me time. It is time spent with good friends. For me blogging is terribly, terribly important.

In the past three weeks I've been too busy to write much, but I've lapped up your sweet messages and condolences like rain soaking into the parched sands of the desert. I've read them over and over. I've popped in to many of your blogs too - not to comment, but just so that I know what's happening in your lives and to keep some sanity in my own.

I live in a small country town. There are no homeschoolers and few Christians. As a family we are very private and keep to ourselves a good deal. You girls, to me, are my community. You are my friends. You make me happy.

Blogging makes me happy. And when I'm happy my family is happy. The ironing may not get done, but in the scheme of things does that really feature that highly? Not to me it doesn't.

I'll be away for the next ten days or so spending time with my Mum while Jemimah and her Daddy hit the slopes of Falls Creek for their annual Daddy-daughter ski trip. But there is no chance that I'll be gone for good. If I did that I'd lose all of you.

Thank you for hanging in there for me.

Thank you for leaving me nice messages.

Thank you for making me laugh.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for being YOU!

With love,

Jeanne xxx