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The Black Mongrel Dog
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The Greenhorns
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THE YOUNG HERO
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.A SPECIAL OCCASION
Anne Wells (Los Angeles Times) tells this story. “My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister’s bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. ‘This is not a slip. This is lingerie,’ he said. He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite, silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price-tag was astronomical and still attached.
“Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least eight or nine years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion.” He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, and then he turned to me, “Don’t ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day your alive is a special occasion.”
His words changed my life. I’m doing less dusting and more reading. I’m sitting on the deck, admiring the view. I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. I’ve realized that life is a pattern of experiences to savour not endure. If it is worth seeing, doing, hearing, I want to see, hear and do. I’m trying hard not to put off, holdback, or save anything that would add laughter and lustre to our lives. Every morning I tell myself that every day, minute, breath is a gift from God.
Don’t put off knowing God until later, either. It will prove to be the greatest loss of all.
Knowing God is to come alive. The colours are brighter, the landscape is fascinating, and the bird-song is more beautiful. Knowing God completes life. ’Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the priceless gain of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.’ Philippians 3: 7. LB.
Of course, life gets in the way and things don’t work out like we planned. Jesus, within us, gives us the power to live above depression, poverty, sour grapes and avoid pity parties. We are enabled to come through life’s challenges, unscathed, and a whole lot wiser. God always keeps his promises and comes through for us.
When we put all else aside and wait in the presence of God, our strength is renewed, we will mount up with wings like eagles; we will run and not grow weary; we shall walk and not faint.’ Isaiah 40: 31. So many times my human strength has run out and God has come through for me in renewed vigour. I savour life and not endure it.
These are the most joyous words ever written, ‘So now, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith in his promises, we can have real peace with him because of what Jesus has done for us. For because of our faith, he has brought us to this place of highest privilege where we now stand and we confidently and joyfully look forward to actually becoming all that God had in mind for us to be.’ Romans 5: 1 – 2
Like the writer of the book of Philippians I am glad to smell the roses, listen to bird-song. I hardly dust anymore, but it’s my camera that gets the work out. ‘So whatever it takes, I will be one who lives in the fresh newness of life of those who are alive from the dead.’ Whoohooo!
Anne Wells (Los Angeles Times) tells this story. “My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister’s bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. ‘This is not a slip. This is lingerie,’ he said. He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite, silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price-tag was astronomical and still attached.
“Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least eight or nine years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion.” He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, and then he turned to me, “Don’t ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day your alive is a special occasion.”
His words changed my life. I’m doing less dusting and more reading. I’m sitting on the deck, admiring the view. I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. I’ve realized that life is a pattern of experiences to savour not endure. If it is worth seeing, doing, hearing, I want to see, hear and do. I’m trying hard not to put off, holdback, or save anything that would add laughter and lustre to our lives. Every morning I tell myself that every day, minute, breath is a gift from God.
Don’t put off knowing God until later, either. It will prove to be the greatest loss of all.
Knowing God is to come alive. The colours are brighter, the landscape is fascinating, and the bird-song is more beautiful. Knowing God completes life. ’Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the priceless gain of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.’ Philippians 3: 7. LB.
Of course, life gets in the way and things don’t work out like we planned. Jesus, within us, gives us the power to live above depression, poverty, sour grapes and avoid pity parties. We are enabled to come through life’s challenges, unscathed, and a whole lot wiser. God always keeps his promises and comes through for us.
When we put all else aside and wait in the presence of God, our strength is renewed, we will mount up with wings like eagles; we will run and not grow weary; we shall walk and not faint.’ Isaiah 40: 31. So many times my human strength has run out and God has come through for me in renewed vigour. I savour life and not endure it.
These are the most joyous words ever written, ‘So now, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith in his promises, we can have real peace with him because of what Jesus has done for us. For because of our faith, he has brought us to this place of highest privilege where we now stand and we confidently and joyfully look forward to actually becoming all that God had in mind for us to be.’ Romans 5: 1 – 2
Like the writer of the book of Philippians I am glad to smell the roses, listen to bird-song. I hardly dust anymore, but it’s my camera that gets the work out. ‘So whatever it takes, I will be one who lives in the fresh newness of life of those who are alive from the dead.’ Whoohooo!
THE GREENHORNS
Children ran every which way, many of them in just their birthday suit. They were to sit on the floor at the front of the hall so they could see but none took any responsibility for them, and they ran amok. Crocodile Dundee was showing, and the whole town attended.
The building, a tin shed, was called the Progress Hall. The noise level was rising; soon, the roof would lift off.
My husband Bruce and I had seen the film before in more civilised circumstances, and because we were new in town, we decided to attend.
The miners wore thongs, shorts and navy singlets joined by women came clad in shorts and cotton tops. the fashion of the opal field
We sat in a middle row, isolated by our dress, age and teetotalism. No one knew us or else they chose not to acknowledge us. We were in a cocoon surrounded by noise, beer, colour and activity. We gave up on the film to watch real live Dundees of the opal fields. Far more entertaining.
The Mines Department thought that the only fair way to allocate the claims was to revert to the practice used on the Victorian goldfields, and that was to announce that at 11 am on a designated day the manager of mining fire a shotgun into the air. People then rushed off to grab a piece of land 50m by 50m and peg it, hoping that underneath was the precious opal.
The day before the designated day, everybody and his brother arrived in town. Tensions were running high. Some miners camped on their prospective claims to ward off claim jumpers. It was illegal to put any pegs in until after the gun went off. We intended to make a claim; it was on the edge of the central area. We, like everyone else, had patrolled the field and made our choice.
The blast from the gun echoed across the hills and valleys we hurried to our claim and began to measure and drive in pegs. It was a surreal experience for out of the scrub appeared a Toyota 4WD with two khaki-clad Mines officers. ‘Have you got a licence?’ they barked. ‘Yes, back at our camp.’ We replied civilly. ‘Bring it to the office before closing time today,’ another shortly delivered order. These men were the modern equivalent of the hated troopers of the goldfields, just another way to show the divide between them and us.
While trying to’ fit in’ on the opal field, we met some Korean miners. They were hoping to strike it rich; it was why the town existed. We discovered they shared our Christian faith, and they invited us to share in their service. They even asked my husband to preach at one of their services.
Their English was limited, and our Korean nil. The language barrier proved a wall too high to build friendships.
Eventually, the Koreans returned home with their fortune, and we too followed later. When fortunes have been made the fly-by-nights leave. Only the die-hard opal miners and their families remain.
Children ran every which way, many of them in just their birthday suit. They were to sit on the floor at the front of the hall so they could see but none took any responsibility for them, and they ran amok. Crocodile Dundee was showing, and the whole town attended.
The building, a tin shed, was called the Progress Hall. The noise level was rising; soon, the roof would lift off.
My husband Bruce and I had seen the film before in more civilised circumstances, and because we were new in town, we decided to attend.
The miners wore thongs, shorts and navy singlets joined by women came clad in shorts and cotton tops. the fashion of the opal field
We sat in a middle row, isolated by our dress, age and teetotalism. No one knew us or else they chose not to acknowledge us. We were in a cocoon surrounded by noise, beer, colour and activity. We gave up on the film to watch real live Dundees of the opal fields. Far more entertaining.
The Mines Department thought that the only fair way to allocate the claims was to revert to the practice used on the Victorian goldfields, and that was to announce that at 11 am on a designated day the manager of mining fire a shotgun into the air. People then rushed off to grab a piece of land 50m by 50m and peg it, hoping that underneath was the precious opal.
The day before the designated day, everybody and his brother arrived in town. Tensions were running high. Some miners camped on their prospective claims to ward off claim jumpers. It was illegal to put any pegs in until after the gun went off. We intended to make a claim; it was on the edge of the central area. We, like everyone else, had patrolled the field and made our choice.
The blast from the gun echoed across the hills and valleys we hurried to our claim and began to measure and drive in pegs. It was a surreal experience for out of the scrub appeared a Toyota 4WD with two khaki-clad Mines officers. ‘Have you got a licence?’ they barked. ‘Yes, back at our camp.’ We replied civilly. ‘Bring it to the office before closing time today,’ another shortly delivered order. These men were the modern equivalent of the hated troopers of the goldfields, just another way to show the divide between them and us.
While trying to’ fit in’ on the opal field, we met some Korean miners. They were hoping to strike it rich; it was why the town existed. We discovered they shared our Christian faith, and they invited us to share in their service. They even asked my husband to preach at one of their services.
Their English was limited, and our Korean nil. The language barrier proved a wall too high to build friendships.
Eventually, the Koreans returned home with their fortune, and we too followed later. When fortunes have been made the fly-by-nights leave. Only the die-hard opal miners and their families remain.
THE YOUNG HERO Jason Hunt needed no alarm clock to wake him on Monday morning. It was his school’s trip to Semaphore Beach. As Jase looked out of his bedroom window, he saw a glorious sun and blue sky. I t was going to superb swimming. Jase loved swimming. Living on the other Westside of Adelaide, to swim as much as he wanted to. “Jason!” his mother called from the kitchen where she was getting the breakfast and packing his lunch. “It’s time you were dressed and had your breakfast.” “Coming, Mum.” Jason hurried into the kitchen, grabbed the cereal packet, and tipped a generous portion into his bowl. “”You going to swim across the gulf or something, today,” his mother smiled at the mountain of cornflakes. “Yeah, Mum. Big day to day. Might even get to win my race.” “Well, don’t swim after you have eaten your lunch for awhile and be careful, won’t you.” “Yeah, Mum.” Jason was impatient of his mother’s fussing. Picking up his bag with towel, bathers, and lunch, stuffing his money into a side pocket, he aimed a kiss at his mother’s cheek, “Goodbye Ma. See ya later.” Goodbye, son.” Ruth Hunt smiled indulgently as her son slammed out of the house, hurrying for the bus. She was full of motherly pride. Well, she excused, comparing him with kids she knew he‘s not an angel I’ll admit, but he’s not a bad kid either and I can trust him. At school, Jason was lined up with his class and they filed onto the bus waiting at the curb to take them to the beach. “Can’t wait to dive into the water.” Jase said to his mate, Tim, as a blast of hot air rushed through the bus window. At the beach the teacher held them in line in the bus, controlling their exuberance at the sight of a cool aqua ocean, golden sand and blue sky. Gulls swooped and dived in graceful arcs across the sky. Jase felt elated as he pulled the hair of the girl in front of him. She turned and gave him a glare. ‘If there is any mucking about you will be barred from entering the races. ’ Miss James’s eyes rested meaningfully on Jason. Eventually Jason was on the beach. His toes wriggled in the sand like worms. Then he was in the water, striking out with long powerful strokes. Water flowed over his body caressing every muscle. This is so cool, he thought. I want to be a seaman when I grow up. Someone pulled at his feet and down he went under the water. He came up spouting water like a porpoise, shaking wet hair from his eyes. ‘Who did that?’ he gasped. Nearest to him was Tim and Jason slapped the water spraying into Tim’s face, he ducked to escape the shower and returned the spray. A whistle blew and it was time to return to the beach. “It is time to eat,” Miss James called. “When you’ve eaten you can go for a walk along the jetty while your lunch settles.” Everyone huddled into their towels and sat around like penguins in colored coats. There was a rustle of papers as lunches were extricated from their wrappings. In the space of a few minutes the sandwiches and fruit were disposed of. A bag was passed around for empty papers to be placed in. “Please, Miss, we’ve finished our lunch, can we go for a walk along the jetty?” Jason inquired respectfully. “Please wait until we can all go. Let ‘s all walk in an orderly fashion.” “Old bat! Why can’t we go now? We’re not babies.” Jason retorted under his breath, to Tim. “We might get lost or abducted,” squeaked Tim in a falsetto. A giggle went around those standing near by. Miss James’ glare rested on Jason. He was a trouble maker that kid. She would like to pass him on to Mr. Holt. Jason would learn what it was to behave under him. By now, the beach was full of people celebrating the first day of summer. Families clustered under colored umbrellas gave the beach a festive air. Bodies, half naked, lay browning like sautéed onions, in the sun. A large group of young men lounging near the piers supporting the jetty were noisily throwing the tinnies, they’d emptied, at each other. Passers-by who caught their attention were rudely abused. The group soon became isolated because of their behavior and their shouting was getting more abusive. Miss James led her charges away from them and up the stairs onto the jetty. People strolled along the jetty, some were fishing. A gentle little breeze filtered over the sea; the water crinkled with dancing pinpricks of light. Life was so good and Jason couldn’t resist a hop step and jump. Miss James caught the movement from the corner of her eye. ‘Jason Hunt if you step out of line once more you will go and sit in the bus until we leave for home.’ “But Miss I didn’t” --- “That is enough. I will not have you cheeking me.” Miss James cut off Jason’s explanation. Silence fell over the class and they sauntered under a dark cloud of mutiny. Miss James was sure touchy today. She was usually such fun. Each child registered the teacher’s frustration. Reaching the end of the jetty, the class milled around from one side to the other, looking into the green depths. “Ooh, look at the fish swimming.” Tim pointed out. “Wish I had my line.” “Argh, you couldn’t catch a fly,” Jason slapped Tim on the arm. Tim returned the slap with a light punch to the shoulder. Jason feigned a bruise. Just then a girl pushed passed the boys, to stand poised on the edge of the jetty, ready to dive into the cool green depths. It was Rachel Gibbs, taking her first swim of the year. She was reveling in the soft warm air swirling around her body. The cool green depths beckoned and she arced off the jetty in a graceful curve. As she did so, excruciating pain shot up her leg. Her dive turned into a belly flop and she sank like a stone. To lay there a white ghostly figure on the bottom. Jason had admired Rachel’s dive. He had noticed her flop into the water and thought that cramp had paralyzed the girl. He rushed to the edge. “Come back, Jason. You’re grounded.” yelled Miss James. Jason glanced over his shoulder, “Miss, she’s hurt. We’ve got to save her.” “She is just making out. Trying to show off. You come away from the edge. I don’t want to have to rescue you.” Miss James reaching for Jason’s arm. Other people were standing looking at the white watery shape below the water. “She’ll be OK. She’ll get up in a minute,” a dark haired woman scoffed. Seen her many times diving. Thinks’ she a smarty pants, she does.” “But it will be too late.” Jason was becoming frightened. He knew it didn’t take long to drown. Jase thought he saw movement under the water. He was sure she was trying to ask for help. He looked at Miss James standing stiff as a rod. He glanced at the crowd, they had dispersed, only one or two were standing nearby. Without further thought, Jason dived in. “Jason you come back here,” roared Miss James. Jason concentrated on all that he had learned in life saving lessons as he curved through the air and down to the stricken girl. He clasped her under the arms, struggling to raise her to the surface. Maybe someone would help him then. His lungs were at bursting point. The girl was like a log, being much bigger than him. Water broke as Jason and the girl surfaced. “Help, someone, She’s drowning.” The onlookers seemed hypnotized. Jason struggled for the shore. Just when he thought his strength had run out, his feet touched hard ground. Chest heaving like a pair of bellows, he tugged her unceremoniously out of the waves and turned her on her side “Help! Someone help’ he appealed to the crowd on the jetty. Jason was near to panicking. Rachel would die if he didn’t soon get help. He ran to the party of young men, “Please get an ambulance. She’ll die.” “Nah! We’re having a beer. Buzz off.” They lifted tinnies to their lips and sipped. Jason looked toward the Surf Lifesaving rooms. He’d have to leave Rachel alone and run to the Club if she was to get a chance. It was quite a sprint. Jason raced off, “Help! Someone’s drowning. Get an ambulance,” he gasped between breaths to a muscly, brown body staring seaward. Suddenly there were men everywhere, orders were issued, and someone asked him, “Where is she?” He gasped, “By the jetty.” The frenzied activity raced along the beach as the lifesavers dashed to Rachel’s side. They worked over her calmly and with precision. “Whatcher doin’mate?” One of the rowdies called. “Kissin’ ‘er. ‘Er Mummy will ‘ave a piece of yer.” One or two of the drink induced brave, staggered over, “She’s just puttin’ it on to get attention, mate.” One of the life savers looked up, “Please give us room. We need to keep working on this girl or she’ll die.” “Aw, don’t pull our leg,” and a glob of spit landed on the hand of one of the life savers. “It’s a pity those pigs wouldn’t go away.” The life saver calmly spoke and looked at the spitter. The message was loud and clear, though not a word was said. The spitter and his mates left, sheepishly giggling in a show of bravado Rachel took a breath, albeit a shaky one. The ambulance had now arrived and she was placed on a stretcher and raced to hospital. Hot on the tail of the Ambulance came the Police “What’s going on here?” Constable Crease asked. “This little boy just saved the life of a girl, who dived off the jetty and got into trouble.” A lifesaver spoke up. Miss James had now arrived, “He belongs to my class. We are on a school excursion.” “Miss, you must be proud of him. He did a wonderful job in saving the girl. He’s a very brave boy,” Constable Crease exclaimed. “Oh. Yes,” Miss James stammered, “He is a good student and I’m proud to have him in my class.” Her face was wreathed in smiles. So different from her demeanor a short while ago. Jason wondered if Miss James was the same person. He half expected to be grounded when he got back to school for disobeying. Instead, the Headmaster praised him, “Jason, I’m going to nominate you for a bravery award. What you did today was a very unselfish thing.” “But I only did what anyone would do. Rachel needed help and I just gave that help? But Jason was puzzled. That night when his mother came to say goodnight, he said, “Mum, why did all those people believe Rachel was putting it on? Why did those guys behave like animals? Rachel would have died if I hadn’t helped her.” Ruth Hunt looked at her son, with his wide blue eyes his bleached hair and snub nose. He saw as yet, no evil in the world, she wished, he would never lose his innocence and trust. “Son, it is the greatest of all mistakes to allow fear to stop you from doing anything. All those people were fearful of being laughed at or even drowning themselves. But you, despite your fear saved the girl. Never let your fear be the master.’ ‘Yes Mum!’ Jase was asleep. |
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