Tag Archives: Hope

The Sun Is Waiting

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When Ukulele Me made an appearance recently, I gave a commitment to post some ukulele music in the not-too-distant future. Accustomed as I am to doing things the hard way, I’ve chosen to write an original song.

Life has been a bit difficult lately but through it all I have been grateful for the gift of being able to express the unexpressable through the written word and through music.

It’s a song about hope, the only thing you can cling to when the world turns dark. The sun will always be waiting to shine light into the deepest shadows.

This song is dedicated to my friend Lisa who knows more than most about waiting for the sun.

 

 

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Lighting The Dark

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Light the Dark

On Sunday 23rd of February 2014, an event called Light The Dark was held across Australia. Tens of thousands of people gathered in large crowds and small groups, in capital cities and country towns, to hold candlelight vigils in memory of Reza Barati, a 23-year-old Iranian asylum seeker who was killed in the Australian detention centre on Manus Island in Papua New Guinea. It was also a protest at the inhumane levels our recent governments on both major sides of politics have stooped to in their asylum seeker policies.

It was an incredibly moving experience and while many tears were shed, there was also hope. Hope that the voices of compassion will be heard. Hope in the knowledge that we are not alone. Hope that a movement of people can and will bring about change.

Sometimes the written or spoken word fails me. Sometimes the only way I can respond to feelings felt deeply is through song: “Light The Dark” – a song of light and hope in a time of darkness.

To see some inspiring photographs from Light The Dark:

36 “Light The Dark” Photos That Will Restore Your Faith In Humanity

 

 

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When A Bad Day Turns Good

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The other day I had to speak to a group of kids about maintaining hope when things aren’t going so well. We talked about bad days. Here’s what they contributed.

“So, how would a bad day start?”

“When you have to get up early.”   “When you get out of bed and bump your head.”   “When you don’t want to get out of bed so you bump your head.”

“So, you’re up and you have to get dressed. Then you find out you don’t have any clean socks. Or worse, no clean underpants.”

“Or no clean pants or tops or anything and you have to go out in the nicky-nicky-nude.”

“It’s breakfast time. You pour the cereal into your bowl, you go to the fridge, open the door and…”

“There’s no milk.”   “There’s nothing there at all.”   “You have toast.”

“Then you go to school (probably hungry) and the teacher says, ‘I hope you have your excursion permission slip today. You won’t be able to go if you don’t.’ Of course you don’t have it.”

“I don’t want to go on the excursion anyway.”

“It’s the end of the day and you’re waiting for your mum or dad to pick you up…”

“And they FORGET!” “AGAIN! And look surprised when you walk in the door having walked home! On a hot day!” “That’s happened to me!” (This generated a fair bit of passionate discussion almost exclusively from my own children. So I told them, “Every child has to be forgotten to be picked up at least once in their life. It’s a rite of passage.”)

“So you get home (somehow), sit down to do your homework and…”

“You’ve forgotten your homework book.”   “You’ve forgotten your textbook.”   “You forgot your school bag.” (I’m a bit worried about some of these children.)

“Dinner time. What would dinner time be like on a bad day?”

“You drop your plate on the floor.”   “It’s food you don’t like.”

“What sort of food would that be? What don’t you like?”

“Chocolate cake with pumpkin.” (The mother of the child who said this stood up and announced loudly, “I’ve never served that!”)

“So by this time you probably just want to go to bed, right?”

“No.”

A Bad Day

A Bad Day

I love talking to kids about stuff. They are small conduits of innocent perspective and transparent wisdom. And often hilariously funny.

Having dissected the components of a bad day, we then spoke about what might help to make it a better day and we agreed talking to someone could help. (Someone said, “Talk to your mother” to which one joker responded, “Unless it’s your mother that’s giving you the bad day.” Predictably, the joker was one of mine.)

We talked about prayer and how it can help to send a silent call for help and know that even if there’s no magic to make the bad day just disappear, it can make a difference to know you’ve been heard and someone cares you’re having a bad day.

I’ve written previously about the remarkable singing group I attend every Friday. I’d had a tough week and by the time I walked in the door for singing last Friday morning I didn’t know if I wanted to burst into tears or punch a wall. Over the course of the next hour a beautiful thing happened.

Occasionally we are given the opportunity to volunteer to sing a verse solo during a song. The rest of the group joins in with the chorus. At these times I usually become incredibly fascinated with my shoes. It was always something I was never going to do. But on this day, I felt a metaphorical prod in my back and to everyone’s surprise (certainly mine), I slowly raised a quivering hand and said, “I’ll do it.”

When it came to my turn, I was terrified. My hands shook so much I looked like I was fanning myself and I wondered how anyone could possibly hear my voice over the loud thumping of my heart. But I did it. And survived. And I knew I was fully supported by the group.

Afterwards, people made sensitive, encouraging comments and I felt uplifted. Soon, I came to realise that my bad day had come good. When I had cried in the car on my way there, “How am I going to get through today?” I could not have known that help was on its way in the most unlikely of occurrences.

A Good Day

A Good Day

For me, it’s God. For you it may be the Universe, your own inner voice, or someone else’s voice in your head. Whatever it is for you, when the bad days come, send out an SOS and be prepared to watch and listen, and then to respond to the help that will come, sometimes in a way you might never imagine possible.

 

 

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Hope is a Beautiful Dream

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I sang these words this morning at a community singing group I attend every Friday morning. It was a repetitive refrain, sung in three parts, haunting and beautiful in its simplicity.

And in my case, a timely lyric. Our family has recently been destabilised by a worst diagnosis. In a family previously untouched by The Big C, we are now faced with one of the nastiest and, historically, most unnecessary illnesses making itself known progressively throughout the world – Mesothelioma.

It is the ultimate insult for a man who has lived a healthy and active life, hospitalised only twice in his life – once for appendicitis, once for a cut tendon in his finger. A man who only did what most other men of his generation did – a bit of home handyman, work in an office, commuting on the train – and all the while unwittingly exposed to the diabolical. We have, however, come to realise that analysis of the exact cause of exposure is pointless. We cannot change anything, he cannot go back and undo his actions to bring about a different ending. We must accept the truth and ‘go from here’.

But I started this post with a comment about hope which is indeed a beautiful dream. It is well to be reminded of the hope that lies in the life that we have Here and Now. The past is gone, the future is unknown, today is all we have for certain.

Sometimes I turn up to singing having had a good week and it is the icing on my cake. Sometimes I turn up having had a nightmare week and it brings me solace, peace and a lift to my spirits. Sometimes I think I can’t face it, go anyway, and never regret it. It alternately challenges or consoles me but it always inspires.

Put some singing in your life.

hope

 

 

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