Kitchen busy,
Mixer whirring,
Aromas wafting.
Coffee percolating,
Tea brewing.
…
Family humming.
I love Saturday night!
My Father’s Class in the 1920s
When I reflect on this photo of my father’s class in the 1920s I marvel and tremble at how much our world has changed; culturally, technologically and especially, spiritually. Little did my dad know when this photo was taken that he would he forced to spend many years working in Germany and that later he would immigrate to Australia. One thing that remained strong throughout all this time was the faith of the family. A faith that is still carried forward in our family today.
Ocean Grove PS 1957
When I grew up in the 50s and 60s the forces of the world, cold wars and the like, continued their machinations but the faith of the family continued. The first hints of the technological revolution could be seen. I replaced my crystal set with a Japanese made “trannie” (transistor radio). However, at school, the teachers even if they weren’t active Christians still carried a Christian ethic. Some things remained the same – for the moment.
Then came the social upheavals of the 60s and 70s; from the pill to Vietnam moratoriums. The social structures of family, relationships, morals underwent enormous change. That is the foundation of the world today’s young people and children came into but they had the added influence of the IT revolution which has changed the way we interact, communicate, exchange ideas, portray self, acquire, educate and so on.
My point is this: Change has always occurred. None of us is immune, but the nature of change in the last 30 years has been one that very few us were prepared for ( prepared in an educational sense) and even today, very few of us know how to prepare our children for.
For me, the security in the midst of all this has been the certainty of God and His Word. With all this change, one thing is concrete and certain and that is the gospel of Jesus Christ. His claims on me and my children and His vision of a community and kingdom continue on, regardless of any cultural, technological or moral changes that humanity may decide upon.
I suppose the one caveat I have is this: Because the changes in recent times have been so enormous (beyond the wars and rumours of wars), our teaching, revealing and living the gospel to our children needs to be more intentional than ever. More than ever, sound teaching and training, and especially sound example is required for our children to thrive in whatever the future may bring.
How we do that in our schools is a story for another time. As someone once said, “We have a brilliant education system to prepare our children well, for the 1950s. That is for another time.
Grover at Conwy Castle
One of my favourite photos is a the picture of Grover (above) taking a breather at Conwy Castle in Wales. A few years ago he had his brief moment of fame when this photo was used in a LA Times Travel blog.
Grover at Edinburgh Castle
Once, inside Edinburgh Castle an American tourist asked what we were doing when my wife and I were setting Grover up for a photo. At the time I suggested that these photos could be used back at school as an inspiration for stories. In fact, there was a time when Grover was photoshopped extensively in Middle School.
But if the truth is known we take Grover with us just to add a touch of whimsy to our travels. The kids have left home, we need someone to take a photo of.
Many Christians I meet are deadly serious. There is nothing wrong with being serious; certainly when it regards faith and our relationship with God. But there is also a place for the light-hearted, the joyful, spontaneous – shall we call it – silly. Grover is just one of a host of idiosyncracies in our family that celebrates that whimsical, daydreaming aspect of life. When we come together as family there are serious discussions about faith, work and life, but there is also the banter about “stuffies” and playing with Lego and silly movie quotes and the bizarre make up of relationships that inhabit our family. Have you got or singlet sister? Of whom may you ask, “Have you got a bag?” No, I wont explain.
Grover at the Colosseum
But there is a joy and lightness in whimsy that allows you to celebrate life in the midst of all the harsh realities. Next time you go on a trip, take a stuffed toy and you will be amazed by the discussions you will start with people around you. And no, people with white coats haven’t come looking for us … yet.
PS. Photos of Grover’s adventures can be found at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pstok/sets/72157604854152768/
On a swing at "The Hill"
When I was younger, much younger, summer meant going for a few weeks to “The Hill”, a farm run by two wonderful women, Ola and Beth Anderson. They were glorious weeks of freedom and activities out of the normal routine of Ocean Grove. I remember the two square cypress hedges at the gate, the rumble of the cattle grid and the hundred metre drive to the front gate next to the windmill and water tanks. To the left and down the hill was the Dairy and farm sheds. The shed contained an Aladdin’s cave of treasures: gas masks, wagons, farm implements and other wonders to open the eyes of a young boy.
The Hill was a small farm in Mepunga West, east of Warrnambool. I would get up and “help” the sisters with the milking; walking in the cool of the summer morning and calling the cows in. I would help clean the udders and put the cups on. I remember watching the milk go though the pipes, via a glass bulb above the cow along a pipe to cooling system. The milk cascaded down a rippled cooling apparatus to a tray below where it was channelled into a 10 gallon can. The chugging of the milking machine was steady and mesmerising. The dairy cats waited patiently for their share.
We would take the cans to a depot; really just a platform on 4 large stumps, on the back of a old converted army jeep. If the jeep didn’t start we would have to harness the jinker. I always felt special when we needed to use the horse and jinker.
Ola and I on Old Con
The horse, Old Con, was also the horse I could ride during the day. He had a patient and steady temperament. That, too, was really special for a town kid. I remember playing in the haystacks and making cubbies with a friend. The smell of the dry grass, which gives me hay-fever today, was glorious then! I learned to play tennis on the asphalt court over the road. They dressed me up in a Davy Crocket outfit (that is another story)!
Other memories include, home-made ice cream, learning how to use knife and fork “Aussie style” and lavish afternoon teas before the second milking. I also remember the infinite patience of Ola and the finite patience of Beth. I was often meeting new members of what seemed like an unending stream of Anderson family members. Every so often we would meet these members on their farms – each one different and unique. All very Australian.
Another clear memory was going to the Post Office at the Croft’s farm. This was a little office behind the house and it also doubled up as the telephone exchange – I am talking about the late 1950s and early 60s.
Two of the nephews and me
The house at The Hill was made up of addition upon addition and closed in verandas. I remember the insects banging against the ceiling and walls on a hot summer’s evening. The antique Singer was still used as was the piano for sing-a-longs on an evening when people had gathered together. My dad, who played by ear, had to improvise when there was no music. And there were the black and white and sepia photos of family members present and past. Here I learned that men had gone to war and never came back.
Dad and my Uncle Adrian at the farm shed
There were picnics at Childers Cove and a trip to Lake Gillear, places like Nirranda and Nullawarre. If I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander, my heart goes back to those great days and wonderful experiences. To a measurable degree I am the person I am today because of the influence of these amazing people.
Oatmeal (courtesy Flickr)
One of my favourite poems by the late Spike Milligan is called “Porridge” (see below). Whenever ‘porridge’ is mentioned, my wife or I will blurt out a line from the ditty, such as, “Why is there no monument to porridge in our land …?” or “Oatmeal OBE”, usually in a wobbly Scottish accent. Amongst our girls it’s film quotes. Lines from favourite films (in suitably dramatic accents) will be thrown in at appropriate places. How often have we heard, “I am a military man. I want a military meal.” (Toys). “Mustard! Don’t lets be silly.” (Alice in Wonderland). And there are hosts more; too many to mention.
It caused me to pause and think. How much is our speech seasoned with helpful aphorisms from God’s Word? Direct encouragements, challenges, comforts, wisdom and more can be declared directly from the Bible. In order to do that however, we need to know the Word and have it inwardly digested. Rather than our fill of mindless TV or internet trawling, we need to spend time taking in and appropriating God’s Word. No I am not ‘anti film’, in fact I love a good movie and I also enjoy the banter that our family has with film and other quotes. Where would I be without a good Mark Twain quote? Far more life enhancing though, is to know and share where life to the full comes from.
The ordinances of the LORD are sure and altogether righteous. They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. Psalm 19
How much time are we spending, not just reading, but ingesting, memorising and clothing ourselves in the living Word of God. The theologian Karl Barth believed that the Word of God came alive (my words) when it was acted upon – other than just being dry words on a sheet of paper. The Hebrew word ‘dabar’ which means ‘word’ or ‘talk’ cannot divorce itself from the action it is declaring. In fact, Jesus is the Word come to life in human existence. Our challenge is to clothe ourselves in the “dabar’s” of God and speak and be the Word of God to each other and the world around us.
… and Spike’s suitably bizarre poem …
Porridge
by Spike Milligan
Why is there no monument
To Porridge in our land?
It it’s good enough to eat,
It’s good enough to stand!
On a plinth in London
A statue we should see
Of Porridge made in Scotland
Signed, “Oatmeal, O.B.E.”
(By a young dog of three)
Sound Christian Education takes the Bible seriously.Australia
http://www.cen.edu.au/ Christian Education National
http://csa.edu.au/ Christian Schools Australia
A wonderfully informative website:
http://www.whychristianschools.com.au/wcs/index.html
USA/Canada
http://www.csionline.org/ Christian Schools Internation
http://aacs.org/ American Association of Christian Schools
UK
http://www.christianschoolstrust.co.uk/find_a_school Christian Schools Trust UK
With hindsight, it was easier to have six than one. Having “half a dozen unassorted”, as one doctor described them, (i.e. six daughters) turned out to be a blessing for them, and for us as parents. The girls had to learn to share, cooperate and compromise.
We told them they could have an “attitude” when they became a teenager. If they displayed an attitude after their 13th birthday we told them they missed their chance. It was on the day they turned 13 they could have an attitude. After that was too late. With six, you set patterns and the others tend to follow with only the odd break out attempt. In our family there was the famous dummy spit over a school bag. It is memorable because it was a rare event. So the patterns went like this: “It is our family rule that we know who is supervising the teenage party before you can go”. This became a mantra for all of them. On one embarrassing occasion an unsuspecting dad was dragged into the house by one of our daughters to give evidence that the party she wanted to go to was supervised.
It was not all beer and skittles (bad phrase) but on the whole, parenting during the teenage
years was a pleasure and not the trauma that many parents experience. The one exception was probably learning to drive as some of them suffered in the spatial awareness department (thank you uncle Rudi for all your patient work).
Sadly, as a teacher, I am seeing more and more girls, usually only daughters, who come through their teenage years with the “Princess Syndrome”. This disorder suggests to the girl that she is the centre of the universe. She is the prettiest, most important and most precious person in the world. The world owes her a debt for her beauty and charm. The parents serve this darling, as well as give and bestow anything the princess wants. You may have met her? Or even worse, you may be serving her in the palace right now!
However the harsh truth is, she is isn’t the most important person in the world – not even in a classroom of 25 students. The future that the parents of princesses are “preparing” their daughter for isn’t reality. As the saying goes, even if she is one in a million there are 7000 just like her! Real life requires people who can negotiate, see value in others, share, cooperate and compromise. The “Princess Syndrome” doesn’t allow for that. It only produces self centred, petulant people who will ultimately be unfulfilled and unhappy. Hollywood not only sets the standard here but also reveals the ugly results.
My dad said, “Never marry a pretty girl” ( I’ll let my wife decide whether I was obedient or not). I think his aphorism was an early warning against the “Princess Syndrome”. Whether we are parenting boys or girls (there is a “Prince” syndrome too) we are failing in our duty and calling if we don’t train them in the art of how effective community should work. In the words of Proverbs 22:6 “Train a child in the way they should go, when they are old they will not depart from it.” This is not a promise, but a principle: The more intentional our training the less likely any deviation from it. This can work positively and negatively.
If we train them to be princesses we should not be surprised when they reveal an ugly, petulant and preening, self obsessed ego. However if we train our children to respect, honour and value others it is unlikely that our daughters will suffer the “Princess Syndrome.” Their lives, and ours, will be better for it.
When it comes to historical plaques you expect to find long-lost tribes, great statesmen and heroes or local luminaries being honoured. It comes as a surprise to see a photo of yourself in a Davy Crockett outfit on a plaque on an “historical walk” in a town park. Seldom do we consider ourselves as part of “history”.
In the early 1950s, my parents and I were part of a huge wave of migration to Australia. Like others from Northern Europe and the UK, my parents were seeking a new life away from a Europe struggling to house and feed its people after a disastrous war. Now, nearly 60 years later, with the wonderful gift of hindsight, it is clear that we were part of a movement that would change Australia for ever.
The photo on the plaque is instructive in its detail. There is an uncle who had paved the way a few years earlier and was establishing himself as an excellent builder. There is a close Australian friend who had adopted us when arrived in Australia and was my brother’s Godmother. My mother is holding my new baby brother who had been born in this new land and I am standing in a “coonskin” cap made out of rabbit fur – illustrating the popular culture of the day. In the background the car has a table and tea-chest strapped to the roof which is certainly a metaphor for the transitory life we lived when we first moved to Australia. My father, I can safely assume, is taking the photo.
Not only was it a momentous time for the thousands of families that picked up their sparse belongings and moved to Australia, but it was also time of indelible change for Australia. After the Northern Europeans came the Southern Europeans and then when the “White Australia Policy” was abolished the movement became even more spectacular and diverse. Food, music, festivals, dress, values and attitudes would all be changed. “Wog” food became the norm. People would inter marry. Children would make “new” friends.
The Australia that sits behind the photo in the town’s “history walk” no longer exits. And I, together with hundreds of thousand other people, was part of that metamorphosis. .
A continuation of my short review of Sigmund Brouwer’s book
I encourage Christians to read this book and struggle with his ideas. He challenges us to know our science before we make uninformed comments which make us look foolish. He makes a compelling argument for Theistic Evolution.
But I am uncomfortable about a number of things. The distinction Brouwer makes between Evolution and Evolutionism is weak. He suggests one comes from a world view and the other from well considered science. He fails to recognise that no human endeavour is neutral. We all come from faith and value positions (often unconsidered!) in all our life’s actions.
However the biggest problem I have is a profoundly theological one. The book fails to make room for the “Fall”. This is profound because it is the whole “raison d’etre” for salvation history: From the first glimpse of the gospel in Genesis 3 to the Cross of Christ. If there was no first Adam who consciously rebelled, why was there need for the second? I believe the historicity of the first Adam is crucial in our understanding of Jesus Christ.
Is it worth reading? I believe it is. It has challenges for the Christian to take science seriously and to engage in intelligent, not blindly emotional, debate. It challenges parents to prepare their children for the world of scientific thought. It reminds Christians that they do need to have an answer to the faith they possess in a sceptical world. These are all crucial issues which Brouwer raises and ones for which we need competent answers – if not his, then our own.
WHO MADE THE MOON: A Father Explores How Faith and Science Agree
by Sigmund Brouwer
In this articulate book the author sets out, for his children’s sake, to show how science and the Bible agree. It is a journey fraught with pitfalls as both conservative Christians and athiest scientists will be offended by much of what he writes.
Brouwer writes with grace and insight and one cannot argue with his sensitivity towards the topic and its emotional tensions. However, his overriding concern is that the creation debate does not thwart young Christians (in age or maturity) from growing in their faith.
With meticulous research he strives to show how the “Big Bang Theory” is supported by the creation accounts in Genesis. He adds to this the voices of other conservative evangelical Christians (such as Billy Graham) or Christian bodies that support or do not decry the “old earth” view of the creation account.
The big questions is, of course, are his views correct? Or, one could add, do his views weaken the very thing he is striving to support and strengthen – the Christian faith.
… to be continued
Travels from Ur 