Make A Wish

Once upon a time, there was a girl. A very girly girl, who loved dressing up, shopping, having her hair made glamorous, and having her nails made beautiful. This girl had a wish. She wished she could be made extra smart and wonderful, she wished she could go and be the most important girl in the shop, find the most beautiful dress, and have a haircut to go with it. She wished she could go to the theatre, all glammed up, and see a wonderful show, and not be told to shush when she sang along. 

This girl told her wish to anyone who would ask. And for a couple of years, her mother promised that one day, she would fill in the forms, and see if the magical people at Make A Wish would make it happen for her. And the girl would roll her eyes, and friends would laugh, because they knew how long Miss Mog had been asking for this.

And then the girl started getting a little bit poorlier, and wasn't managing school very well, and the house was getting fuller and fuller of nurses and carers, and the mother decided it was probably time to get on with the paperwork. That's the back story.

So it turns out, the paperwork is actually pretty minimal. I filled in a single page form, sent it off, and two days later, Make A Wish contacted the hospice to check we were who we said we were. They sent out a slightly longer form, I filled that in too, and then they sent out a pack for Miss Mog, with the request that she choose not one but four separate wishes. 

Now there's a thing. It takes a while for a non-verbal child to express four of her deepest desires. We read the newspaper which came with the wish pack, to see if any of the recently granted wishes might take her fancy. We thought about the various categories of wishes. Something to do, something to own, somewhere to go, something to experience. We thought about things she likes, things she might like, things she really wouldn't ever like. And eventually we came up with four wishes for Mog. 

Number one wish, to have her haircut and makeover, get dressed up all fancy, and go out to a show with her umber one knight. 

Number two wish, to have a nice warm pool she could relax in now she doesn't fit the bathtub any more. 

Number three wish, to be able to make music all by herself. 

Number four wish, to go back and say hello to Winnie The Pooh again.

OK, four nice wishes, and a girl happy with all four of them. We put them down on our cheat sheet for the Make A Wish volunteers, and waited for their visit. 

Mog was a bit busy demonstrating why she qualifies for a wish when they got here at tea time on a Friday. But she managed to agree that all four wishes were in fact her own wishes and not ours. Squeezing time away from tLP, who had her own very clear ideas for her own wish, she had made a decision and told the room all about it. 

And much to my surprise, Miss Mog decided against the haircut and makeover, against the time with her number one boy, and instead decided that as it's a bit tricky for her to use her voice consistently at the moment (although fellow church goers might be surprised to hear that), she actually wanted the means to make her own music.

And then we waited. Not very long; whilst we were on holiday, we had a series of phone calls from a very nice Wish Granter, who confirmed Mog's wish, queried tLP's, and said he was arranging delivery for the following week. 

And on Thursday, in the fifteen minutes I left the house to rescue Mog and nurses from school overload, the postman dropped a slip through the door. Mog was not impressed. We waited the requisite two hours, then nipped up to the post office, where a rather special parcel awaited us.

 It didn't quite look big enough to be a whole wish, but the contents were pretty exciting anyway.

Badges, lapel pins, £30 to spend on a celebratory meal, and a letter explaining that over the next few days, the post man would be delivering something very exciting. 

And so we waited. Friday, nothing. Saturday, nothing. Sunday, not a post day anyway. And on Monday, Mog dressed up in her finest, stayed home from school, ordered her nurses to redo her nails and make her hair beautiful, and waited for her wonderful wish. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

On Tuesday, I phoned up, and it was explained that Monday 11th was merely the first day of the week in which her wish would be granted, not in fact the day it would come true. 

And on Friday, this happened.

It's not the best video, because the best ones are both too long to be uploaded here. But you get the drift. She loves it. She's been singing away with it for the last hour. Feet hitting switches to find a bass riff, one hand to play the tune and the other to hit some harmonies. It's beautiful.

And tLP's wish? 

Wait and see!

Tia

Coconut brownies (wheat, dairy and gluten free).

And very delicious. 

Melt 5 oz coconut oil in a saucepan with 6 oz plain chocolate. Set aside to cool slightly. 

Beat three eggs, add 8 oz caster sugar, then add 6 oz gluten free flour (I used Doves farm for laziness, but have also used a mixture of cornflour, gram flour and rice flour quite happily), 1tsp gluten free baking powder, and a tablespoon of cocoa powder. 

Pour in the chocolate and coconut oil. 

At this point, add chopped nuts, raisins, coconut shards or anything else you fancy. I didn't; they didn't need anything extra. 

Stir until all mixed, then pour into a greased and lines baking tray, about 6" by 8" or so. 

Bake in a preheated oven, 180c/gas 4/350f, for 30-35 minutes until a crust is formed and the brownie feels set and not too wiggly. 

Cool and cut into segments. 

Collect praise from friends with food intolerances. 

Tia

How not to do mission.

Select your location with care. About 2/3rds of the way up a narrow steeply sloping footpath is probably ideal. People are bound to need to pause and catch breath, after all. 

Select your targets with equal care. That convoy of three adults with four children in wheelchairs are ideal. They won't mind at all if you jump in front of them as they puff their way up the hill - see point one above, re: needing to pause for breath. 

Pick your moment. If you notice the group has waved you off for a minute, don't be put off. Step in front of them again. Speak loudly in order to be heard over the strangely insistent alarm sounding from the machine attached to one of the children. Don't be put off by the frantic rummaging through medical looking kit, the odd colour of the child with the machines attached, and the slightly stressed look of the adults as they appear to be telling the child to breathe. Who knows, this could be that child's last opportunity to hear the Good News? 

I admire your determination to share the word against all the odds. But here's a thought:  

You saw us. You watched us, you stepped in front of us, making our way harder. Perhaps another time you could come alongside, even offer to help push. Meet us where we are, see to the most pressing need. 

A bit of physical exertion on your part would have given you the opportunity to talk to us far more naturally. And instead of having a little prepared card to read from, you might have been blessed by an actual real conversation. Of course, that conversation would have shown you that half of us were already pretty familiar with the Good News of Christ (and the other half equally secure in their own pre messianic faith), but it might have been an interesting conversation nevertheless. And we'd definitely have been thankful for your help. 

Please, guys, open your eyes. At the risk of sounding a little clichéd, what would Jesus do? I'm pretty sure He wouldn't have been making a difficult situation worse. 

You ran away pretty quickly when we suggested now was possibly not the best time. Thank you for not pressing the point, but again, if you'd looked at the whole situation and not just your memory card, perhaps you might have thought to offer help? We didn't need an ambulance, but offering to call one - or to clear a path through the crowds to a quieter spot - might once again have given you an opportunity to share your news, whilst also giving you the opportunity to serve. Actions speak volumes. 

I'm sure you won't read this, so instead I'll shout out a big thank you to those Street Pastors we know both locally and further afield, who take the opportunity to be Jesus to the people they meet, in order that those people might see Jesus in them. It's probably a bit messier than throwing yourself under a passing wheelchair convoy clutching a little script. But it's almost certainly more effective. 

Tia

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Apparently in irreversible reverse order. Thanks, blogger. 

Here's the ugly. 

What is it? 

It appeared in our fish tank yesterday. No new plants or other additions for the past 6 weeks. And yet it was suddenly sitting on the log. I'm assuming its been lurking somewhere growing gently, but that still doesn't answer the what is it? 

The bad

From three snails came three hundred. Anyone want some water snails? What do we do with them? 

And the good. 

A long time ago, we relieved friends of twelve guppies from their seriously crowded tank. 

The guppies slowly faded away, aided by the addition of new fish which promptly went belly-up, until we were left with three hardy specimens, all apparently male. 

Last night I noticed one of them was seriously vast, and either badly constipated or deeply pregnant. Making mental notes to dig out the nursery net, I went to bed. 

 And this morning, lots of babies! 

So I'm guessing conditions in the tank are finally sufficient to support growth, which is excellent. But is the alien insect thing going to eat all the fry? 

Tia

More Loving

The postman called again today. A big parcel for the Little Princess this time. 

Patiently, I waited until she got home from school and let her do the opening herself. 

And what can I say? It's beautiful. So much work, so much love. Benjamin approves too! 

Thank you so much to everyone who stitched and quilted and sorted. One very happy girl keen to try it out tonight. Thank you http://www.lovequiltsuk.com. 

Tia

When I'm not blogging.

I'm a little busy. 

Mog's out of school, currently attending for two short days a week. She's a bit better than she has been, but we're waiting for an ENT appointment. 

TLP's in school full time, and has collected friends around her, meaning that our house seems to have become pre-teen central. There's a constant stream of glue and glitter, music and chatter, cake making and sweet munching and sticky orange squash everywhere. 

And when I'm not running Mog places or sorting seizures or meeting friends, I've been a little busy with the sewing machine. Very satisfying. But the weeks have been shrinking. 

Fun at the fair

Ask tLP, and she rode six rollercoasters, ate all the food in all the stores, and won every game there was. 

Further questioning may elicit the admission that riding the snail on the galloping horses merry-go-round might just have been more like it. 

Mog was happy this year to watch and listen, but still enjoyed being a part of it all. 

No goldfish here, but one rather fabulous purple grape-scented bouncing ball. Which bounced beautifully for the rest of the evening, and bounced beautifully all of the next day. It bounced around the sitting room, releasing scent and causing much squealing. 

"Don't take it outside," I said. It went outside. "keep it on the grass," I said, "It will burst if it hits anything else. It's an inside ball really."

Two minutes later, two sad girls handed me a pile of purple plastic. "I told you so," I didn't say. And that was the end of the fair for this year.