A 'Hadassah' Life

I was reading back through my journal from last year, and I found an entry that I'd forgotten writing about. I wrote it just after finishing a really inspiring book, and I was convicted today of the fact that I never strived to do all the things on the list that I wrote for myself to do. 

So, I decided to share the journal entry with you, in the hope that you will be encouraged and inspired to live a Hadassah life - the life of a girl whose sole purpose is to serve God in everything she does and love those around her.

4pm Wednesday 21st October 2012

I'm sitting here, LITERALLY breathless and flushed after finishing the third book in Francine River's series 'Mark of the Lion'. It's incredible. Really. Romance, action, violence, history, scandal, all that riveting stuff that makes a good book. But it's MORE than that. I've learnt so much in the past week reading these three books. About forgiveness. Love. True Peace. Humility. And most of all, the heart of a true servant. 

The books are about how God uses a plain, Christian, Jewish slave girl named Hadassah to reach a whole Roman family who are selfish, rich, arrogant, and pagan. Her selfless love and humility, her inner peace, and her undying faith all testify of God's power and grace to the family. I won't tell you what happens, because I'm BEGGING you to read it, but all I can say is, wow! I want to be just like Hadassah.

Some of her traits that I want to acquire are:

~Total humility - no pride, always humble, giving God glory in EVERYTHING that I do.

~Selfless love - not given out of expecting love in return, but loving those who seem to do  

  NOTHING to deserve it.

~Reliance on God - Hadassah's whole life revolves around serving God; she's ALWAYS 

  praying and worshiping. 

~Servant heart - being completely selfless, putting others before her own needs, serving as 

  though it is her passion and joy.

~Quiet and gentle spirit - others are drawn to her because they sense a peace about her. 

  She is slow to anger, quick to love. She doesn't try to defend herself when accused, she  

  doesn't argue, she is quiet and submissive.

~Respect - total submission to authorities and a servant hearted attitude - she's always 

  thinking, 'What can I do for them?' She never asks for things that she 'deserves' but 

  accepts the decisions of her elders without argument or complaint.

Some simple ways that I can practice these traits in my life this week:

~Offer to help mum or dad without being asked.

~Pray to God wherever I am, bringing all my burdens to him and praising him for 

  everything.

~Love my 'enemies'  even when it's hard or I don't feel like it.

~Don't be afraid to share with others the eternal life I've found through Jesus - tell others!

~Do everything in love - find small ways to help others.

~Place others before myself, serve them and listen to them.

~Don't boast or show pride in any conversations, but focus on encouraging the other 

  person.

~Learn to be slow to judge - don't look down on others or judge them by their outward 

  appearance, but instead look at their heart.

~Read the bible, find teachings that encourage me, and spend time actually ASKING God 

  what HE wants me to do.

~Forgive people, even for small things - don't hold grudges.

How about you? Do you live a Hadassah life, or are you, like me, often so caught up in everything life throws at you that you forget to just take a moment to appreciate God's grace and humble yourself before him?

I want to encourage you to take some time this week to think about the ways you could strive to have more of a servant's heart. I know there are so many things that I need to improve in to be more like Hadassah - especially in my humility and the love I show towards others. I'd also urge you to read Francine River's trilogy 'Mark of the Lion'. The books really were so captivating, encouraging and inspiring!

Well, have a lovely week everyone! 

Maddy :)

Loving Lucy's Laughs

At my school I'm part of a 'Peer Tutoring' programme. I get paired up with a young Middle School student who's struggling with school work, and then I meet with them everyday to help them improve.

I tutor a gorgeous girl named Lucy. We meet everyday instead of morning break to work on maths together. I must say, it really is SO much fun! We get to play maths games, have a laugh, and I find it so rewarding to see her improvements week after week.

At the beginning of the year the Senior School students in the programme were
told how rewarding it would be to tutor these kids. The teacher told us about all these studies that suggest that it's really the tutor who gets the most out of tutoring, not the kid.

To be honest, I was pretty sceptical about this. I really only wanted to do the programme because I thought it would look great on a resume for work and on my school records.

At our first tutoring session Lucy and I were both quite shy. I found it slightly awkward helping a girl I'd never met before with her maths, and I was really nervous about how she'd respond to my teaching. Over the weeks Lucy and I have grown very comfortable with each other. She comes waltzing in the door at the same time, every day, and we spend half an hour laughing, playing games, and practising times tables.

It hasn't all been easy, though. There are some days when I sit at the tutoring table with my head in my hands, thinking to myself, 'please don't show up!' On those days I'm so emotionally drained and physically tired that tutoring Lucy is the LAST thing I feel like doing - It seems to take a lot of energy to keep up with her, and to try and smile just as brightly and sound enthusiastic and encouraging all the time. Ironically, however, Lucy is the ONLY tutee to have had 100% attendance to all of our sessions, all year - something that I can't even boast of!

Tutoring Lucy has taught me many things. I've learnt to be better at encouraging and giving words of affirmation, and my patience has definitely been improving. Lucy has brought me so much joy in these past few weeks. It's such a blessing to see her bright little face light up when she gets the right answer, and to hear her laughter as she beats me at bingo for the gazillionth time! I love hearing about her weekends, getting high-fives from her, and the way that she runs up to me in the playground so enthusiastically.

Who would have thought that tutoring one small girl would leave me grinning for the rest of the day, so thankful for the opportunity to have an input into her spirited young life? I wouldn't have. And that's because of my attitude at the beginning of the programme - I was only in it for 'brownie points' with teachers, and an impressive resume. I didn't expect to get anything out of it - but I did.

This month I've been trying to have a positive attitude when it comes to trying out new things. I'm not naturally good at it, so it's something I have to work really hard for. The point is, it all depends on how I see things. If I go into something thinking, 'This is going to be terrible!', then I won't get the most out of it. But, even if I'm unsure about a new situation, I can choose to have a positive attitude, and that way I'll be happy, whatever the outcome.

Next time I'm faced with something new or different, I'm going to remember to be positive - are you?

I guess that's it for now - hope you're all doing well! :)

Beautiful in His Eyes

What makes a girl beautiful? 

Is it the way she does her make up, how she styles her hair, or the clothes that she wears? Personally, I believe that beauty comes from more than just the outward appearance. To me, beauty comes from the heart. 

For graceful arms, '...reach out with compassion to those in need.' Romans 9:15

For sparkly eyes, '...always look at the good side of other people.' Philippians 2:4

For tender lips, '...speak only kind words toward others.' Colossians 4:6

For beautiful feet, '...always walk with God.' Genesis 6:9

For a charming face, '...always smile with a happy heart.' Proverbs 15:13

I'd encourage you to think about these verses this week. What do they mean for you? Are you beautiful on the inside, or do you put all your thoughts and efforts into being beautiful on the outside? 

God already made you beautiful. You are his creation, and you are more precious than rubies. 

Next time you're curling or straightening your hair, putting on make up, or deciding what to wear, remember that God looks at your heart. What will he see there? Will it be beautiful?

Rainy Days, and the Cupcakes that went Bananas...

Yesterday was a rainy day. The wind howled, the trees trembled, and the rain wept.

'What's better then baking cupcakes on a rainy afternoon?' I asked myself. 'Nothing!' was the obvious answer. So, I decided to make cupcakes. And not just any kind - a seriously fantabulously scrumdidliumptious kind - the chocolate-banana kind! *licks lips and gazes at the leftovers in longing*

Warning: These cupcakes are highly addictive and may cause excessive indulging.

Choc-Banana Cupcakes
Makes 16
25 mins to cook (depending on the efficiency of your oven - mine didn't take as long)

Ingredients:
150g butter, soft
3/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs
2 ripe bananas, peeled and mashed
200g good-quality dark chocolate, coarsely chopped (although I would recommend milk chocolate)
2 cups self-raising flour
1/4 cup milk

1. Preheat the oven to 180˚c.

2. Beat the butter, sugar, and vanilla in a bowl until pale and creamy. Add the eggs, banana, and chocolate, and mix well. 

3. Pour in the milk and flour, using a metal spoon to mix. 

4. Spoon the mixture into patty pans, or you can just grease the tin. 

5. Put the tray into the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes.

 (This wasn't actually in the recipe, but I improvised - I mean, what can go wrong when there's chocolate involved?!)
6. While the cupcakes are cooking, melt 100g of white chocolate over a pot of hot water.

7. Once the cupcakes are out of the oven, dig a tiny hole into the top of each and spoon the melted white chocolate in to fill it.

8. I dipped frozen raspberries into the white chocolate and let them harden in the freezer, and they tasted fantastic with the cupcakes!

The whole family gave the cupcakes a big thumbs up - The chances of there being any left when I get home from school this afternoon are quite low, I'm afraid...

Have a great week everyone!

P.S. For the original cupcake recipe, click here :)

Samir's Story

Hey all! 

I know, I haven't posted in aaaaggges. I've been pretty busy with exams and writing English speeches - ugh! I guess it's just that time of the year... *sigh*

Today I thought I might share with you a little story that I wrote a while back, about a former child soldier. I was confronted by recent campaigns that have been trying to raise awareness of the issue, and after doing a little research myself, I felt inspired to write a story from the perspective of an old man. Anyway, here it is:

Samir's Story

Samir stumbled through the market place, sweat dripping from his brow, his gnarled hands quivering. A salty tear slipped from his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek, the moisture glistening on his dark skin like a jewel catching the sun. It was only his imagination, he told himself. He was safe now. The man he had seen in the stall across the street was just another stranger with that same, awful face which seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Samir pressed on, oblivious to the sounds of bartering and the consistent chatter of voices around him. He reached the edge of the market square and shuffled down a narrow alleyway till he came to an old doorway, which was once used and now forgotten; it’s cracked paint peeling from the wooden frame and years of filth and grime covering the steps. Once hidden in the shadows the tears flowed freely, wetting his lashes and blurring his vision. The shaking continued, and his cracked lips quivered, the fresh tears rolling past and falling into his clasped hands.

It did not take long for the memories to come flooding back to him, it never did. It was as though they lurked in the shadows of his past, hidden beneath tired eyes and a weak smile, waiting until he was alone so they could come out and haunt him again.

He saw the dark and decrepit alleyway transforming in his mind to what it had been years ago when he was a boy; an alleyway full of all the make-believe and dreams of a child. He saw his brother Jamal running past in the dirt, caught up in the game that they had played together, a game where they could block out everything else and just be caught in a world of fantasy for a few hours.

The alleyway changed again, and Samir saw himself, a boy of 13, with a gun thrust in his hand by the soldier, the owner of that very face which haunted his thoughts and ruled his dreams. He saw himself as he was ordered to shoot Jamal, and his own voice echoed through the vision and resonated off the concrete walls, “No!” Trapped in the nightmare, Samir could do nothing but watch as he heard the gun explode and saw his brother’s body crumple to the ground, blood pouring from the wound and turning the puddles they had played in to a deep and sickening red.

Cries arose from within him and burst forth in great, heaving sobs, sending his frail body into spasms of coughs. Samir looked down at his shaking hands, the same hands that had pulled that trigger so many years ago. He had been such a coward, and how he hated himself for it. There was not a day gone by that he didn’t wish it was him who had died that day.

Fumbling in his pocket, Samir pulled out his worn notebook that had survived all of these years. Opening it’s faded leather cover, he began to read from the beginning.        

                      6^th May 1953

Last night I had the dream again, where I was back in the alleyway. I screamed and screamed for help but no one heard me, and as I cradled Jamal in my arms he changed into the soldier’s sneering face that laughed at me.

Yesterday we went into a village and recruited more boys. There was one who refused to join our army, and so the soldiers shot him in the head right there, in front of all of us. I saw the boy’s fear written on is face as he said “No”, but he didn’t flinch as the gun was aimed at him. Why couldn’t I have been as brave when I had the chance?

Maalik says that if you stay here for long enough the soldiers will eventually turn you hard and cold. I don’t know if it’s true, but I don’t want to end up like them.

It pains Samir to keep going. He wants to forget it all, but he’s terrified that if he does, he will forget Jamal and what his cowardly actions that day cost him. Samir sits in silence, his calloused hands gently cradling the book in his lap. The book is his only sanity, a reminder of who he was and how those ruthless soldiers changed him into a hardhearted man. He lives in the fear of his past, afraid that it will all catch up with him one day.

Slipping the book back into his pocket, Samir carefully rises to his feet and takes slow, deliberate steps towards the light at the end of the alleyway. For the moment the visions have faded, the memories left him for a while. They’ll come back though. They always do.

(THE END)

I hope this story helped to give you an idea of the kind of battles that former child soldiers go through - remembering their horrific pasts, and not being able to escape their memories. 

If you're interested in finding out more about child soldiers or what YOU can do to help, visit this website.

Well, what a relief it is to have FINALLY written something again! I'd better get to work on that English speech now... I really SHOULD rethink my priorities next time :) 

Enjoy your week!

Maddy :)

P.S. The font sizes are doing something weird, so I'm sorry about that - I've tried fixing them, but it's not working. So yeah. Bye!

Well that sucks! (Quite Literally)

We were walking along the damp trail, ducking under vines hanging from trees and stepping over mossy rocks along the path - 'we' being my family and I and some of our friends. We were all staying in a beautiful lodge house together at the Barrington Tops, set in a valley amidst the rolling green hills.

We'd set out for a bush walk earlier in the morning, and after an hour and a half of bumpy and windy roads we'd finally arrived at the beginning of the trail, ready for our walk. I took the lead, down the narrow trail towards the river, stopping occasionally to admire the beautiful moss covered logs and the dense green canopy overhead.

Hmmm... I have a feeling Hosanna wasn't supposed to go there!

As our party journeyed further we began to discover small, black, slimy leeches on our legs and shoes. One by one we would each stoop to assist in flicking the little creatures off another person's legs, and more than once we had to stop so someone could retrieve one from inside their shoe. The leeches did not bother me; I found them rather fascinating, and enjoyed watching the way they moved comically about, rearing up on their back tail. 

At first the leeches were mildly amusing, a bit of fun to pull off, nothing more. As we ventured further into the bush, however, the little creatures began to appear in multitudes, and it seemed that every time we stopped to pick one off, two more would somehow manage to latch on. To everyone's annoyance, the recent rain had brought the leeches out from their hiding spots, and boy, they were greedy! 

My poor little sister Caitlin couldn't cope with all the little leeches trying to suck her blood. She burst into tears, and soon was quite hysterical to a point where my dad decided to try and find a short cut back to the car park by crossing the river. The expedition across the water proved too difficult for dad with Caitlin on his back, the slippery rocks posing a threat should he fall in with her. They decided to return to the track and continue on the long way around, and so our party began moving forward once again as I stayed behind with dad, waiting for him to put his shoes back on.

While waiting for dad, I decided to pull out the camera and take some shots of the beautiful river. Lifting the camera I snapped a couple of shots, when suddenly I felt a strange and rather uncomfortable sensation in my eye. I blinked rapidly and rubbed my eye vigorously, hoping to get rid of whatever was in there, but it didn't come out. 

"Dad!" I said, doing one of those I-really-need-to-go-to-the-toilet little side step/hops, my arms flapping in discomfort as I stumbled over to where dad was sitting, pulling his shoes on. "I think I have a bug in my eye!"

Dad stood, checked my eye, and replied, "There's nothing there!"

The weird squirming sensation in my eye continued, and I asked dad to take a second look. On looking more closely, dad exclaimed, "Oh wow, you have a leech in your eye!"

Upon hearing this I inwardly shuddered, my imagination running wild with thoughts of the little black leech sucking all of the blood from my eye. I began to panic, suddenly feeling the leech, as it had finally latched on, begin to suck at my eye. 

Dad began to probe my eye with his thumb and forefinger, plunging them in clumsily and trying to get a grip on the leech. The more dad tried to grab the leech with his fingers, the further up my eye the thing crawled, until it was up the top just out of sight, right between my eye and it's socket, still sucking mercilessly. I let out a cry of pain as dad continued his attempts at pulling the leech out, all the while praying that the leech would lose interest and decide to let go. 

By now I was screaming, terror gripped me at the thought of losing sight in one eye all because of a little black leech. Dad began yelling out mum's name, hoping that everyone else wasn't too far ahead to hear our cries for help. 

Soon mum, Dan and Beth, (two of my friends from the other family) came running up the path. Mum grabbed my head and held it tilted back so that dad could see what he was doing, all the while praying that the leech would come out. Dad just kept saying, "Look down, look down!" Although when a leech is sucking at your eyeball, you don't feel much control over where you're looking, and my eye was rolling everywhere! 

Dan, who had been standing beside dad watching, spoke up saying, "Would you like me to give it a go?" Dad agreed that Dan's smaller fingers could be what was needed, and so Dan began to slowly pull the leech from it's place. Suddenly, it was out! Everyone sighed in relief, and a bottle of water was poured over my face to rinse my eye clean. Dad ran ahead up the track to tell the others that I was fine. (We agreed not to tell Caitlin of what had happened regarding the leech, and instead told her I had overreacted about a leech on my leg!)

After the drama was over we made our way back through the bush to the car, stopping for a very thorough leech-inspection. Finding a rather fat looking leech on someone's leg, Hosanna jumped on it as we all stood around watching, and ironically, it burst and squirted blood all up Caitlin's leg, after she had just gotten over the trauma of the leech infested walk! (While we all gasped in horror as Caitlin burst into tears once more, we had to suppress giggles at the irony that it burst on her out of all of us standing there!)

There seem to be only 2 side effects that come from having a leech sucking at your eye: my vision was clouded for a while at first, and my eye was painful and slightly swollen. It's now only noticeable by the red area where the leech burst some blood vessels, but luckily it can only be seen when I widen my eye or look downwards!

Anyway, I sincerely hope that you don't develop a fear of leeches after reading this... They really aren't all that bad, and I'm still rather fascinated by them. And hey - the leech gave me something to finally write about! 

Until next time, 

Maddy :)