Prayers for the upcoming election

 

Five things I'm praying in light of the upcoming election:
* That we would be cognizant of the fact that God has given us leaders so that we might live peaceful and quiet lives.
* That we would take voting seriously and elect honourable men and women to these roles.
*  That those who are elected would give honour to the position they have been given.
* That we would give our leaders due respect and pray for them on a regular basis so that they can get on with their job and do it well.
* And that we would go to the polling booth with grateful hearts, thankful for the freedom we have to cast a vote.

Life in the digital age

I was in a shopping centre recently and needed a map of the place.  I went to the main entrance where, once upon a time, there was a stand with a large map, and there you could collect a brochure with a map to take with you around the shops.  So I got to the big map but there were no small maps to be had.  Just something that looked like this.

Apparently if your smart phone chats with the smart looking design, you get a map on your phone. 

The trouble is, I have one of these.

I wanted a map, not an App.  No map for me that day.

There has been a lot of proverbial ink spilt over the good and the bad of the digital age.  And there was a lot I could have said...about the pros and cons of text messages and Facebook, about how I can see the benefits of eReaders but still prefer a book myself, about my decision to not leave a digital footprint of my children on the Internet (or at least, only leave a very small and hopefully fairly imperceptible one) and wondering in time whether they'll regard that as a good decision or not. 

Instead I decided to make this a lighthearted effort about how, on first spec, our household is really in the digital dinosaur age, despite the fact that I have a blog and organise my life via text message.   

But a funny thing happened on the way to this post.  If there is anything true about life in the digital age, it's that things move quickly.  At the beginning of the week I had started in on a post about what it is like to live in the age of digital dinosaurs - hence my opening gambit with the map anecdote.

In thinking about all of this, I was discussing with my beloved about how at some stage (in the next year or so) we might need to get ourselves an iPad (you know, thrust ourselves into the current century) to find out how they work, to get on top of this whole App thing and generally stay slightly ahead of the game with the kids.

Said conversation took place, as co-incidence would have it, in the same week that the tax return came in.  And behold, it is the end the week and we have an iPad on order, set to arrive any moment now.  So having just rewritten the post for this writing prompt, all I need to do now is get that iPad, find some small child who will tell me how to turn it on, download Angry Birds and Fruit Ninja and I will be set.  How could I have ever imagined I was living with the dinosaurs?

Books about hard places # 2

The other book I read regarding life in a hard place recently was Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea by Barbara Demick.   Now, if we don't know much about what life is really like in Pakistan and Afghanistan, then I think it is safe to say that we know even less about life for the ordinary person in North Korea.

This book has been sitting on my bedside table for about six months.  It came warmly recommended.  But I just couldn't pick it up.  Maybe it was the grey cover that stopped me from opening it.  It looks pretty bleak.  And yet, when I finally got started I couldn't put it down.

On opening to the first page, what piqued my interest immediately was a photo similar to this one right at the beginning of chapter one.  Click on the picture to get a better view.


Photo from here

It is an aerial view by night of North and South Korea and surrounding countries.  Notice all the light patches - cities and towns lit up with night life illuminated by the electric light bulb. 

Then, in the middle of it all, an expanse of blackness nearly as large as England.  It is baffling how a nation of 23 million people can appear as vacant as the oceans.  North Korea is simply blank. 

North Korea faded to black in the early 1990's.  With the collapse of the Soviet Union, which had propped up its old Communist ally with cheap fuel oil, North Korea's creakily inefficient economy collapsed.  Power stations rusted into ruin.  The lights went out.  Hungry people scaled utility poles to pilfer bits of copper wire to swap for food...

North Korea is not an underdeveloped country; it is a country that has fallen out of the developed world.

(From chapter one of Nothing to Envy.)

What happened that a developed country fell into darkness, famine (20% of its population died of starvation during the 1990's) and utter disarray in the space of a few decades? 

Nothing to Envy is an oral history.  It follows the life of six North Koreans.  Some of the six remember life before the current regime took power and know just to keep their mouths shut.  The rest have grown up under the regime with heads so full of propaganda (North Korea is not connected to the Internet and no-one, at least legally, owns a mobile phone) that they believe that they truly have nothing to envy about the outside world, that the North Korean government is looking after them and that all is in hand. 

The book covers fifteen years taking in the death of Kim Il-sung and the rule of his son Kim Jong-il.  Eventually, for these six people, doubt creeps in.  Doubt in time leads to courageous defection and that is how Barbara Demick, an award winning journalist from the Los Angeles Times, comes to meet with them, interview them over many months and corroborate their stories with others in order to weave together a picture of life in this closed country.

It is grim reading.  Not the least because what has happened in North Korea has happened, and is happening, in our lifetime.  But be not put off by that comment or by the bleak cover.  Once I opened this book I could not put it down.  Because for all its bleakness, I was also inspired.  This is courage and tenacity at its absolute best.  Written down beautifully, insightfully and cleanly.  The word that springs to mind is "compelling."

Also, it is good to know about this.  And good to pray.

Are you OK?

Today in Australia it was R U OK Day, described at the website as...

...a national day of action dedicated to inspiring all Australians to ask family, friends and colleagues, ‘Are you ok?’ By regularly reaching out to one another and having open and honest conversations, we can all help build a more connected community and reduce our country’s high suicide rate.

It's prime objective is suicide prevention - and it isn't just about encouraging people to check in with their friends and family just once a year - on the second Thursday in September.  It's about getting into the habit of checking in with one another on a regular basis because good communication can nip so many things, that might otherwise escalate, in the bud.  So not just suicide prevention, although that's where it started.  But learning how to keep our ears, eyes and hearts open and then taking the time to show some concern.

There are some obvious targets - people who are on our care for lists (and for those who pray, on our prayer lists as well) - people in great need whose loads are great and difficult.  But today I have been thinking about the people who often fall between the cracks as well.

New dads.
Those newly retired or new empty nesters - for some the transition is is unexpectedly difficult.
Parents of missionaries.
The primary carers of the elderly, the physically ill, the mentally ill, the addicted.
The spouse or children of the long term unemployed or of one suffering from long term depression.
Those whose jobs it is to constantly care - doctors, nurses, chaplains...
The givers.
The boss - it IS lonely at the top - or anyone in serious leadership.
Those who have suffered a bereavement more than twelve months ago and who "ought to be over it."

There are others I'm sure.  It is good and essential to be caring for the suffering.  And it is good to be alert to those not quite in the frontline of difficulty and suffering but one step removed.

Are you OK?
I hope so.

Three months down the track

I was speaking to someone last week on the subject of grief after a crisis.  For some, grief hits immediately.  For others, the grief strikes later, after the adrenalin has run out.  For some it's severe and sudden.  For others it's more slow release.  And it takes its many forms - sadness, despair, denial, anger, depression.

Last week, during the course of this conversation, I learned that no matter how the initial grief is experienced, there can often be a new wave of grief about three months after the event.  This is true for personal bereavement and also for large scale crises of the ilk we have seen this year. 

And this grief at the three month mark is a very difficult and confusing time.  The immediate crisis is over.  Maybe recovery and restoration (physical and personal) is underway.  And suddenly in it whooshes.  It can be hard to understand what's going on.  Hard sometimes to even connect this grief with the events that took place three months ago.  You wonder whether you might just be going crazy.

It has been a difficult three months.  We have seen floods, cyclones, bushfires, earthquakes, a tsunami and the disabling of a nuclear reactor.  Each new crisis has taken the attention away from its predecessor.  But while out attention is diverted, the ones who lost family, friends, homes, maybe their livelihood to the earlier disasters continue to live with the effects of their crisis.

Our attentions and prayers have rightly been upon those caught up in the horrors unfolding in Japan.  But it is important to pause and count back.  The January floods happened about three months ago.  If you know someone who was affected by those floods, why don't you check in on them.  They may be fine.  Grief is not text book.  It may be though that they are feeling a bit wobbly just now and just don't know why and don't what to do with it.  Let them know that this OK.  Give them another hug.  And pray for them all over again. 

A Disturbing Trend - and a Tribute to my Dad

So, we have a new Prime Minister.  Last night at 10pm AEST Prime Minister Kevin Rudd emerged from crisis meetings to announce that Julia Gillard, his deputy, had challenged him to a ballot for the leadership.  It was to take place at 9am AEST this morning. 

This morning Julia Gillard emerged from that caucus meeting the new Prime Minister, elected unopposed, after Kevin Rudd decided not to contest the leadership ballot.  He is the first Prime Minister to be ousted before even completing his first term.

At this point I should say that
1. I have nothing against Kevin Rudd,
2. or Julia Gillard,
3. or Tony Abbott for that matter, and
4. I am politically naive.  Extremely so.

That said, today is an historic moment in Australian history.  We have our first woman Prime Minister. 

And I feel something between sad and outraged.

I caught wind of these events last night, slept poorly, woke up to the news and then, in a moment of unusual political outspokenness, changed my Facebook status to say,

Meredith disagrees with political parties, state and federal, spilling their leadership positions at the first sign of trouble. Where is the strength in that? I guess we live in a throw away society...

It's a disturbing trend.  When things get difficult, the party throws out the current leader, be they in government or opposition, in the hope that someone new at the top will turn the polls around.  A new leader means a policy gone wrong can be overturned.  But then we have a blurring of what the different parties stand for and an attempt at a quick fix to a complex problem.  It's all about the polls and has little to do with governing.

There is no strength in that.  There is no leadership in that.  There is little opportunity to govern in a climate like that.  And this trend has been on the rise in state and federal politics over last five or so years.

Mind you, it has happened once before.  Apparently when Malcolm Fraser tipped Gough Whitlam out of office during the 1970s my dad was outraged.  I was too young to be aware of what was going on, but those old enough to understand in our household were apparently tip-toeing about the place for quite a while because Dad was so upset.  I have often smiled at the thought of this...but never really understood it because I am rarely passionate about things political.  But today I think I understand.

The Victorian Bushfires - a Year Later

Yesterday marked the first anniversary of "Black Saturday" - the day of the catastrophic bushfires in Victoria that claimed 173 lives and shattered countless others.  Last night the ABC screened a documentary called Inside the Firestorm which outlined the events of that day, narrated mostly through the stories of some of those who were there, and it showed a great deal of footage from various sources - a lot from home video and mobile phones.

It was sobering television.  I saw very little last year as the events were unfolding.  We had a total media ban in our household because we didn't want our boys to see the horror of it.  I kept up with events via snippets of news heard on the radio and reading the ABC News website when they weren't around.  Last night was the first time I saw the extent of the fires and the extent of the damage to property and to people's lives. 
When I reflected on the Victorian bushfires last year I finished up with a list of prayer points.  That list went like this...

We grieve and we feel helpless. But we can pray. For those of us who are physically remote from the fires and in no danger, let us make good use of our safety to give time over to praying for those so desperately in need – for those grieving the loss of loved ones, homes (and all that was stored away within their walls), livelihoods and community; for those who have escaped and are numb but will soon start to feel again; for those who are at work tirelessly fighting the fires and tending to the injured and grieving; and for those who will work out how to manage this dreadful situation in the short term and the long term. And let us pray that those deeply affected may turn to the deep comfort found in God who gives real hope when all else is lost. Amen

It strikes me that apart from the prayer for "those who are at work tirelessly fighting the fires", the rest of these prayer points remain relevant a year down the track.  Some of the survivors have built new homes or are in the process of doing so, some have bought new homes and some have moved away and won't be coming back.  The work of rebuilding the physical shells in which these people live is underway.  But that is only the very beginning of getting over something like this.  I imagine yesterday was a very hard day for most who experienced the fires (and we ought not to forget those who fought the fires, those involved in emergency services and those in front line caring services.)  First anniversaries of hard events are never easy.  Maybe today things will be a little easier for those affected by the fires.  But I think they still need our prayers.

[The photo is an original, taken looking over our back fence, while the local fire brigade put out a small fire in the bush behind us last summer.  This is one reason (although not the main one) we sheltered our boys from too much information about the Victorian fires.] 

Daylight Saving

Today 1.3 million adults in Western Australia will vote YES or NO to daylight saving between the end of October and the end of March each year.

I took R (who is six) and N (who is approaching four) with me to cast my vote - a good chance for them to see what the election process looks like when the ballot paper isn't too difficult to complete - ie. I could vote and supervise at the same time! On the way we discussed the issue.

M: So R, what do you think of daylight saving? Should I vote yes or no?

R: Vote no. I don't like it.

M: Why?

R: Because it is boring.

OK...moving onto the next boy...

M: So N, what do YOU think of daylight saving?

N: (with joy) I love light sabers Mummy.

Don't think we have fully grasped the issues in our household!

The Victorian Bushfires

Like many people here in Australia I have been keeping up with the unfolding events of the Victorian bushfires with deep sadness. I haven't actually seen any news footage – we don't watch the news very often in this house but I have made a point to keep the news off our television screen this week in case one of our boys catches a glimpse. I know they would be traumatised. But I have been keeping up with events via radio news and the internet – and every time I hear a news report it seems that this tragedy just gets worse.

As of this evening there are 181 people confirmed dead with more than 50 still missing, the fires have burnt through more than 3000 square kilometres of land, entire towns have been destroyed with 900 homes razed to the ground and fires are still burning with many communities on high alert.

Yesterday the news readers on the radio seemed barely able to read out the news. Their voices were catching and you could tell their hearts were heavy. The content was largely a dreadful catalogue of events.

Today the content changed a little. Still the updates of events but also stories of people offering to help – various groups and agencies around Australia collecting money and supplies, companies offering to transport goods to Victoria free of charge, governments in Australia and abroad offering assistance. And of course the Red Cross has set up an appeal which, as of this evening, has raised $28 000 000. Much more will be raised because Australians dig deep at times like this.

At the local level, my son came home from school today with a note advising us of a free dress day on Thursday (wear civvies to school rather than school uniform for the day for a gold coin donation) to support the bush fire appeal. I am sure that every child will be at school in free dress on Thursday and that more than gold coins will be collected.

Tomorrow the stories on the radio will change again. The updates will be there. The offers of help will be there. And stories of people's personal experiences will be heard. Stories that will be hard to hear but need to be told to help with the healing. And this will continue.

We grieve and we feel helpless. But we can pray. For those of us who are physically remote from the fires and in no danger, let us make good use of our safety to give time over to praying for those so desperately in need – for those grieving the loss of loved ones, homes (and all that was stored away within their walls), livelihoods and community; for those who have escaped and are numb but will soon start to feel again; for those who are at work tirelessly fighting the fires and tending to the injured and grieving; and for those who will work out how to manage this dreadful situation in the short term and the long term. And let us pray that those deeply affected may turn to the deep comfort found in God who gives real hope when all else is lost. Amen.