Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Happy Christmas to one and all

Well here we are with less than two weeks before Christmas. I know many, like me have last minute things to do and presents to buy. I have almost finished my shopping and wrapping of gifts, but still a bit to do.

This is the time when we are reminded of our many blessings chief of which is living in a country without any fear. We are just so blessed.

From Team JH ( Simon, Robbie, Laurie, Andrew, Honey and me) we would like to wish you the happiest of the holidays and a bright and glorious New Year - every day being precious and appreciated as tomorrow is promised to no one.

I want to leave you with a few Christmas ideas, the designs of which are taken from Victorian Roses and use the every so quick and easy Embroidered Decoupage technique.


Monday, December 3, 2012

The Little White Dog - in memory of mum

I have been having a clean out of all my book shelves - it is time, and in doing so, came across an old exercise book of mine, dated 1960 - this was the year I arrived back in Australia. Mum, being always economical, having grown up in the depression years, kept the book as it had blank pages left in it. Written in her perfect script hand writing was the following poem, and I am sharing it in memory of her - the poem truly touched my heart, especially as I have a little white dog.

I wonder if Christ had a little white dog,
All curly and woolly like mine,
With two silky ears, and a nose round and wet,
And two eyes so tender that shine.
I’m sure if He had, that little white dog
Knew right from the first He was God
And needed no proof that Christ was divine,
But just worshipped the ground that He trod.

I’m afraid that He hadn’t, because I have read
How He prayed in the garden alone,
For all His friends and disciples had left Him and fled,
Even Peter the one called a stone.

And oh I am sure that, that little white dog,
With a heart so tender and warm
Would never have left Him, to suffer alone,
But creeping right under His arm,
Would have licked those dear fingers, in agony clasped,
And counting all favours but loss
When they took Him away, would have trotted behind,
And followed him right to the cross.