Leah Dettling slipped into my life unobtrusively and quietly five years ago when she started coming along to church at the Vineyard in Brisbane. Four years ago, a few of my church friends pitched in to nurse Leah back to health after having surgery to remove a malignant melanoma from her leg. I didn’t really know Leah back then so I left her care in capable hands and got on with the busyness of my life, raising my three children, doing the thousand other things that seemed to squander my days. Part of it for me, to be honest, was the need to keep other people’s pain at arms length. I could barely handle my own. Distancing myself from others was a survival mechanism so I used my busyness as an excuse not to connect with others.

Things unravelled dramatically for me back in September 2008 when I lost a baby in an ectopic pregnancy and developed pneumonia. I realised the futility of putting objectives before the people I loved and such an outpouring of love came my way after that, it was hard to view life in the same way. I started to realise that connecting with others, while risky, was something I needed to do in order to regain my confidence, learn and grow.

Leah and I were church friends, and we were only just starting to get to know each other when she left Australia to start her winding road to Darjeeling, India. We’d pray for each other, provide encouraging prophetic words and share in each other’s joys and sorrows. We weren’t close friends but I always felt that one day we would be. When she left Australia, I quietly hoped that one day I could visit her in India and somehow contribute to the work she was going to undertake, bringing hope to a fragile region of the world.

When she left, we kept in touch and I looked forward to her one day returning to tell us fascinating tales of what God was doing in India and how He was blessing her work. Sadly, late last year, we received news that Leah’s cancer had returned. The cancer took over her body aggressively and ruthlessly and on Sunday night (Australian time) 24 January, Leah was taken from us.

So many thoughts cross my mind at a time like this, not least of which is the shock that cancer can dominate a person so quickly. It feels so wrong to be saying goodbye to someone who hadn’t even hit 29. Another thought is wonderment at Leah’s influence on the hundreds of people who she came into contact with. Her grace, strength, trust and hope impacted literally hundreds of people. I have no doubt that Leah’s legacy will live on in the lives of all she has touched.

When I heard about the cancer returning, I decided to do something to honour Leah and the struggle she has faced. So, I am participating in The World’s Greatest Shave on March 12 to raise money for cancer research and people living with cancer. It is no easy thing for me to shave off my hair. It is just past my shoulder blades and I’m not terribly secure about my appearance on the best of days. On the other hand, if losing my hair has a use, and can bring hope to others, it is an easy thing for me to do.

I aim to raise at least $1000 for The World’s Greatest Shave which is run by the Leukaemia Foundation, a registered tax deductible charity here in Australia. If you want to sponsor me, simply visit my sponsorship page at: http://my.imisfriendraising.com.au/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=313775.

Ps: If you want to donate towards the mission that Leah was to work on in India, please contact Leah’s mum, Maryrita at rmdettling76@hotmail.com or Leah’s pastor at the Vineyard church in Brisbane, Graeme at graeme@vcfbw.org.au for Paypal or postal details.

My VBAC story

A picture tells a thousand words. For the complete story of my kids’ births visit my website: www.casmccullough.com/stories.shtml.

A few months ago, I lost something precious, something I had worked 10 months to find and within eight weeks of gaining, it was gone. I didn’t really feel it at first. I was too numb from the entire experience. I was too raw to feel anything and submersed myself in work so as to avoid thinking about it at all. But recently, Angel has come back to haunt me in the exuberant faces and big rounded bellies of other women who are now five months pregnant with other, very precious somethings.

What has also brought this home is the fact that some people have been rather out of the loop. I had an email the other day from a colleague who asked when my baby was due and then at Christmas eve service last night at church, a kindly acquaintance I hadn’t seen for a while asked me the same thing. Put aside the fact that I don’t look five months pregnant (or maybe I do… maybe I’ve eaten way too much fudge this Christmas season), I was kinda dumbstruck and then felt rather mortified for this poor woman who asked an honest question. Her discomfort was obvious and mine too. I just willed the conversation to be over so that I could crawl into a hole somewhere far away. This Christmas, I was supposed to be sitting around on my lard-arse contentedly rubbing my swollen belly, making my mother shift uncomfortably at the dinner table over conversations about homebirth and birthing pools. Instead I just miss my Angel. I miss him/her desparately and wish he/she was here.

I am also reminded that for the better part of the last six years I have spent most of my time pleasing others, doing things to make me feel like I was somehow not such a selfish person. But the truth is, I am selfish and I’m sick of pretending to be otherwise. Recently, I wrote out a mission statement for my life. I really struggled with this because, to be honest, I don’t really know what I want or maybe I’m afraid that what I want isn’t really the right thing to want. I don’t know. All I do know for sure is that I have this vision in my head of spending long days with my children, enjoying their learning, their company and their fun. I have a vision of justice, of doing something bigger than myself, something that leaves a legacy. I also have a vision of truth…. it keeps pulling me back to the nagging thought that I should be doing something other than what I am currently doing.

I am conscious that I have set myself up to be pulled in a million different directions by others. I made a decision earlier in the year to stop putting emotional energy into the personal choices and conflicts of others outside my own family. This choice has confused some but I have to stick to it. My family’s survival, my survival depends on it. I need a full tank to be strong enough to deal with the ebb and flow of my family.

So what do I really want? For those I love to know the hope and love of God and the gift He has given us, a family that knows they are loved no matter what, to be able to make beautiful music and to see my children thrive. Everything else is somehow not so precious to me.

I don’t know if we will try to have a another baby again or not. I’m still raw and hurting from the experience of losing that something precious. But I do know that I will make some different choices in 2009. Some of these choices leave others scratching their heads but they are my choices to make. Somewhere along the line, we all have to decide to stop living life for the will and purpose of others and instead, live a life of purpose that is true to ourselves and honest about what motivates us to do what we do. It is easy to act out of brokenness, from hearts destroyed and confidence lost… it is hard to face the truth that this is what we do and step beyond.

My son L has been saving up for a Lego Agent set. It was about $135 retail when he first decided he wanted it and he madly set about thinking up jobs he could do for us to earn a few extra bucks. Over the past two months, L has put every cent aside for his Lego Agent set and has dedicatedly set about putting mulch around trees, watering the new garden, weeding, washing the cars, cleaning the insides of the cars, helping his brothers with tasks, helping move rocks to a retaining wall etc to earn a few dollars here and few dollars there.

One day he put fliers in all the neighbours letterboxes advertising a “dog walking service”. He didn’t get any bites (pardon the pun) but mostly because our neighbours were worried about the size of L as opposed to the size of their dogs. One day a couple of Pomeranian dogs wandered into our yard and L looked after them with gusto. When the owners came to claim their dogs, they gave him $15 which wss quickly added to his stash.

He had saved over $100 and so, the other day, Wayne went out and bought him the set and we hid it away in our cupboard. Wayne asked him today, to bring out the money he had earned and count it for us. So out came the box and every cent was counted, but there was $17 missing. The $17, it turned out, had mysteriously made its way into A’s piggy bank. A was adamant that he had found it under the bed. L was angry and upset that his precious money had been taken from his room but we calmed him down and explained that A simply didn’t understand the value of money (we were secretly glad that L did now).

Then Wayne brought out the lego set. L’s eyes went wide. We told him that he had done such a fantastic job of saving that we had decided to get it for him and pay for the rest (about $15 difference in the end). He sat there and tears welled up in his eyes as he looked over the huge, shiny, box. He was so overwhelmed with joy and disbelief, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it. He finally had his lego set after saving all this time. He couldn’t believe that we had already bought it for him. Money was exchanged and a very happy eight year old set about putting the set together. He’s still going and probably won’t stop for hours.

At lunch L very spontaneously turned to us and said “Thank you for getting me the Lego Agent set.” My heart swelled with pride.

It’s not easy for most children to save, be gracious about a theft, understand the importance of a gift well earned and say “thank you” on their own terms but it is even harder for a very ego-centric child with Aspergers Syndrome. I am so proud of L. Not only has he learned the value of earning money, he has learned the value of working for something, the value of the different notes and coins, he has learned how to market his services and promote a business and he has learned about grace, kindness and love.

I grew up in a very insular church that held on to its followers through authoritarian control. They did a lot of things badly and caused a great deal of damage in people’s lives; so after seven years of disbelief, when I was reeled back into a relationship with God, I deliberately avoided any institution that had even a hint of oppression in the way it functioned. Eventually I found one.

I’ve been going along to my church for about five years now and have at times wondered if I really should be there at all. It’s not a church that is heavy on exacting theology, nor one that is caught up in futile ritual. For some that is off-putting but for me it is a haven. It is not a perfect church (there’s no such thing) but it is a learning community and a community that is learning how to care for each other beyond the two hours of church on Sunday. Recently they had the opportunity to practice on me.

If you’ve read my blog you will know that I have been very sick and that I recently lost my fourth, very wanted baby early in pregnancy due to an ectopic pregnancy.

From the moment my friend Jane received a phone call from Deb (a midwife friend who does not go to our church but who, I am proud to say, has supported me, and many of the women in our church in childbirth as a Doula and Childbirth Educator), she was on the phone to round up prayer and practical support.

Some people don’t believe in the power of prayer. Well, if I had never experienced healing or seen the way prayer makes people feel, I might not too. However, I have been healed and have been nourished by others in this way on several occasions. Earlier in the year I had arthritis that was disabling. My hands were in constant pain and it was spreading to my other joints, my knees, my feet. I knew there was no physical thing I could do to change this condition. So, I asked for prayer. It didn’t happen right away because there were things I needed to process in order to open up to the power of healing (in saying that I know that sounds like BS but read on…). Once I addressed issues in my life that needed attention and forgave people of some insults and hurts that I had held onto, I woke up one morning completely pain free and the pain has not returned.

I could feel the power of this prayer when I went in for surgery. I felt a sense of real peace and when the doctor commented on how remarkably stable I had been during the long surgery, I knew I was being sustained by a force outside of myself.

After I arrived home from hospital, people in my church started to mobilise and I was offered cooked meals, more prayer, offers of help with the boys, even money. In fact, we had so many offers of help that we could not possibly take them all up.

It has been humbling to be the object of such eagerness to serve and to support.

Our world can be a very isolating place and without community, people struggle. I admire the self-sufficient but I’m glad I’m the sort of person that believes in inter-dependency. Self-sufficiency can be so lonely. I’d much rather share my journey with a supportive crowd.

I normally shy away from talking about my beliefs in such a public forum. Half my family is anti-Christian and the other half is more in the fundamentalist Christian camp (I’m considered a leftist Christian… whatever that means) but I wanted to share this story because I believe that having a community of support around you is so important and I wanted to thank my church for putting their words into action and showing love in the most practical way they could.