Crystal grass and possums too

47 boxes still to be emptied. I know I said that when I moved into this house that I had 52 boxes that needed to be unpacked and if I unpack one a week, then in a year's time they will be finished and I will be able to relax. Well, I am ahead of schedule. Yup, I am a machine and storming ahead ... very slowly storming ahead. We have had some progress in the house. The errant possum is now being chased out of the yard by our very territorial cats. The mama hedgehog has produced a litter of pups. Well, I presume she has because all of a sudden there are little hedgehogs scuttling around at night. Yay. They eat the snails and slugs, which is always a positive thing in my books. Roses plants are thriving as well as the geraniums and some pretty purple groundcover plants. (Sorry, I lost their label and have no idea what they are.) Even the new apple and avo trees are doing well.

But sadly tomorrow I am meeting with an engineer who is hell bent on separating myself from wads of cash to put in some extra parking. Yes, we do need the parking, but I have no need for the anxious moments when contemplating the financial cost. Did I invite the engineer around? Yes. Therefore and ergo, it is all my own fault. I was teaching the grandkids a technique on how to handle anxiety. EFT which I think means Emotionally Focussed Tapping. No, just kidding, I have no idea what the letters mean, but there is tapping involved. It's a cross between mindfulness and meditation. As long as it works and fear is under control, and anxiety held at bay, well, I will give it a try. I will be sitting at the computer looking over my budget and suddenly I come over all clammy and anxious, so deep breaths and tap tap tap. I suppose it is mind over matter and the mind is a powerful tool. So, as I contemplate the engineer's visit, I plan to spend my day madly tapping my chi points to remove the fear. If I end up looking bruised and battered, you will know I have overdone the tapping stuff ... just a tad. You might wonder how the grandkids enjoyed the tapping session? I asked them if they were anxious about returning to school after the holidays and starting a new year. (In New Zealand our school year starts in February). Grandson One said, 'No, I will be a senior and therefore the king of the castle. It is the underlings that need to fear me.' Or words to that effect. Granddaughter One said, 'I have all my friends to look forward to seeing, so, no, I am not anxious.' Grandson Two was worried because he had a new teacher that he would need to become accustomed to and Granddaughter Two shrugged her shoulders secure in the knowledge that the world revolves around her ... most of the time. There are always things to worry about. Whether it is that moment at the checkout when you realize that you have left your money at home or meeting up with an old friend who has done wonders in her life and you start comparing yourself with her. Or is it FOMO? Fear of Missing Out. So, get those fingers tapping folks. Tap the side of your hand ... just under your little finger. Then the top of your head, then that spot next to your eyes, under your nose and then above your chin. Move down to your chest and finally a tap or two under your arm. Good luck and let me know if it helps.

How many of you grew up drinking hot Bovril drinks? My Gran would put a dollop of Bovril into a mug of hot water and that would be our hearty get well soon drink. I need some at the moment due to an intestine that has freaked out because I ate a dessert. Yes, sugar and carbs are not my friends. Bovril was developed for Napoleon, who wanted beef for his troops. He asked for 1 million cans of beef to feed his men in 1870. There was plenty of beef to go around, but transport and storage were a problem. A canny Scotsman (living in Canada) decided to make liquid beef ... hence Bovril was born. It became famous for feeding the war machines of the world and even Ernest Shackleton relied on it on his forays into the snow and ice. Oh yes, the besieged troops in the Boer war made their own version of Bovril within the confines of Ladysmith and Kimberley by boiling up horsemeat and making it into a hearty, life saving drink. Chevril, I think they called it because Bovril referred to Bovines and if you use horsemeat, it is no longer allowed to be called Bovril. Although .... there was a time that they made it vegetarian because of mad cow disease, but it is now back as beef and even chicken Bovril. What would the chicken version be called? Chookril? Cheepril? Anyhow, by the time my grandmother fed it to me in South Africa all those years later, it had become the norm and soccer fans would take thermos flasks of the drink into games to keep the chill at bay during the games. Bovril was used in stews and pies, on toast and in drinks.

Do I need Bovril? No, I am just nostalgic. And I could buy it at the local supermarket if I really wanted to. My gut health is easily fixed. Stay away from bread and sugar or else... Apparently, it kills off the good bacteria in my intestines and hence the need to repair the damage with lots of healthy food. I seldom eat bread and rolls have never been a favourite. Yes, I am that weirdo that goes to a burger joint and removes the bun from the burger. When friends lose weight I will often ask them how they do it and sometimes the answer is 'I stopped drinking alcohol.' (I don't drink alcohol, soda or even fruit juice, so that won't work for me) Then there are those that say they gave up bread and carbs. Mmmm, again, I have not eaten bread for years and years and the only carbs I have are the odd carrot or baked potato. Obviously, it is something else that is causing the weight to stay stuck. Maybe it is my cross to bear in life? What about serving sizes of meals? I wish I knew, but it is a mystery to me because I think the only way to lose weight is to live on Bovril and nothing else for a few months. Did you hear about the guys who lived in the Arctic with the indigenous people for a year. They only ate fat and lots of it ... and some reindeer and seal meat. No fruit or veges, no so called healthy foods at all. And yet they are thin and fit and have good health with plenty of energy to spare. Dr Stephen Phinney talks about that on a Youtube video that is fascinating. He talks about how insulin controls our ketones (which helps us lose weight) Maybe that is my problem, really bad pancreas and awful insulin creation. The worse your diabetes is, the less carbs you should consume. When I eat carbs it switches off the good bacteria, so hey ho, and off we go cutting carbs. Reading labels and hopefully feeling better. Carbs switch off the good stuff that protects us from disease ... who knew that? Not me. Carbs encourage other things too, bad things like asthma and lung disease. All right, enough about my weird eating habits and beliefs. I will look in the kitchen cupboards to see what to eat for lunch and hopefully choose well and not end up hunched over in pain for the afternoon.

I was lying in bed half asleep a few weeks back. Yes, that is not so exciting that I should share it with you, but it gets better. I promise you. I was thinking of my dead husband, Barry and what he would think of my new abode. Feeling guilty as always about selling up etc etc etc. The room was dark, the cat in its usual position at the foot of the bed and I was getting comfortable. It started like a video playing in my head. First I saw a white park bench under an arbor of white flowers and green leaves. (Clematis and Wisteria for those gardeners amongst you.) On the bench were white and cream cushions in a variety of textures. Silk, lace, cotton and even some ribbon. I could feel them all. I sat down ... not in my pj's, but rather a pretty flowing skirt and blouse. The bees were buzzing and the birds were singing. The breeze ruffled the flowers and the perfume wafted down around me. When down the garden path, came Barry. He was smiling and all dressed in white. He lifted me up and gave me a big hug. That had always been Barry's thing, hugs. Hugs to give comfort, hugs to offer love, hugs to calm and hugs just to be close. He then sat down next to me and took my hand. Neither of us said a word. But I felt love and peace. We watched the garden for a while and then another person entered on the path. This was Jesus Christ. (for those of you who don't know me, I am very religious). He too walked closer. He smiled and I recognised him as my Saviour. The insects and the birds stopped to watch as he walked past them in awe. He stood in front of me and I felt this wave of compassion and love sweep over me. A warm enveloping cloud of pure emotion. All my concerns and troubles were taken away. He hugged me and I felt that I knew him with every fibre of my being. He sat next to me and the three of us watched the garden as if waiting for something else. Sitting between these two men, I was overcome with joy and caring. Then the heavens opened and we could see angels and stars and planets and the whole universe before us. It stretched into eternity and there was no end to the creations. I looked around and each leaf and flower had become see-through. I could observe the atoms and the molecules that formed them all. The dynamics and the mechanics of each little thing. The grass and the trees looked like crystals. Pure and supernal. The angels started singing and there was our Heavenly Father walking towards us. He greeted us all and then sat down at my feet.

He looked up and said, 'You are my child and I am pleased with the choices you have made in your life.' By the way, when I told this to the granddaughters, Evanna said, 'But crystals are hard and if the grass is crystal, Heavenly Father will hurt his feet.' I told her that the grass crystals were soft as feathers. I cannot remember all that was said but the time finally came for the meeting to end. Heavenly Father took my hand and led me down the garden path towards a blue door. (I had to make it a blue door with coloured glass in it when I told the grandkids because Evanna likes shiny stuff.) He said he would need to leave because he had work to do to prepare the Earth. Then Jesus too bid his farewells saying that he needed Barry to stay with him to prepare the souls of those who had already died (my ancestors) to hear the Gospel. And he said that I too had not finished my mission on Earth, but that I was on the right track and doing great. But there was plenty more for me to do. Finally, it was time to say goodbye to Barry. He opened the door wider and I stepped out of the garden and back to the world. He told me that he would always be close in times of need and that if I was in danger that he would come and assist me. I turned and he closed the door and then I fell asleep. Now, some of you might think I had let my imagination go wild. And some of you might think that I am a bit crazy. But, I told this vision to a friend and she said that she had once bought a book that had the same imagery in it and it had echoed everything that I had told her. So, there you see, I am not the only crazy person in the world. It did give me a feeling of peace and comfort when I needed it most and a sense that I had better get busy if I am to enter the garden again. Were there other people in the garden? Not that I saw. Not my daughter, or my parents or even my brother. But, perhaps they were busy elsewhere. My Mom loved her gardens, so perhaps she was tending to the plants? The garden was peaceful and still but there was a sense of urgency and movement beyond that veil and I figured out that it was only a waiting room for greater things ahead. Exciting to imagine what the future holds.

That visit made me become re-enthused about my family history. All those ancestors sitting patiently for me to introduce them to Barry and Jesus Christ in my own inimitable way. I remembered Gran telling of a family story about greed and thievery. Her ancestor had been duped out of the family fortune by an uncle that gambled away the fortunes before this child could reach his majority. I looked on Ancestry, on MyHeritage and even FindMyPast with no luck. So, back to Uncle Google and just type in the name and their hometown. Well, what do you know, there they were. The parents died very young. The father only 30 years old, leaving behind four little children under the age of five. And enter in the wicked uncle and the crooked lawyer who colluded to steal the farm, the land, the manor house and the mill. Uncle dear had a teensy little gambling addiction and didn't think that it was right that this child should have access to the family fortune while he was left out in the cold. What? Anyhow, the story my Gran told me was true. Yay. Thanks Google for the confirmation. I also acted as an agent of connection between my cousin and a relative who was keen to reconnect with family. Photos were exchanged and hearts were warmed. I have work still to do. I have purpose and focus and aim to make my God and my husband pleased with me. Yay.

So, there you go. My life is pretty mundane. Possums in the garden, diet worries and then there is the night time vision.