Broken

One of my children broke my heart yesterday.

The conversation (after quite a rough afternoon) went like this:

“I wish I wasn’t a person…. I wish I wasn’t <insert name here>”

Oh how my heart hurt for this child.  To be even thinking things like this at such a tender age.  That I could but protect you from all of life’s hardships.

I did not have words to speak, and so held my tongue.

Later, but not much later, we were talking again… following on…

“I wish that I wasn’t naughty.”

Oh Father, thank you for taking my heart, hurting for my child, and sending it soaring.

That my child can see their brokeness, and I can show them your way for mending.

Thank you, thank you Father.

Sorry Nan!

Think you’ll have to cancel that booking at the Hyatt!

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Bakers’ Hill is at the top of Brett’s to do list when we go to the farm. Mmmmm, meat pies.

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It is quit possible, as evidenced by these photos, that our children still have a way to go in the art of eating a meat pie.

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Photos from 16/07/2011