I still remember the day I saw the poster to become a Host Parent hanging on the oddly placed community notice board at Aberfoyle Hub. I say oddly placed because it was near the toilets, but I suppose, I always did stop to read it - so perhaps it was correctly placed...

Today is Wednesday. Which means it's Cleaning Day in the Writer's Cottage. It is also Christmas Eve. So, I am cleaning on Christmas Eve. Which is very - normal.

‘Look that’s a lizard isn’t it, sitting on the guide’s shoulder?’ The children stared in fascination and amazement, having never seen such a creature before. Drago is an Inland Bearded Dragon and looks like a miniature dinosaur. He doesn’t look very handsome and is downright fearsome when he puffs out his and body and beard.

We’re so excited to have Sharon joining us again to deliver our next Baby & Child First Aid Course on Tuesday November 18th at 6:30pm at First Aid Training Group Ballarat.

Visiting Culloden Battlefield became a profound spiritual moment that changed how I see the world. A story of grief, ancestry, and God’s quiet presence.

A heartfelt reflection of the masks we wear to hide our pain, and how God calls us to live unmasked and truly known.

I grew up dreaming of robots and rockets. Now I’m watching humanity step into its own sci-fi story.

My daughter, Diane, found a picture of a patchwork quilt and loved it, many years ago. The feature of the quilt consists of twelve crocheted squares, twelve inches square. Diane did not crochet but I did and so I made the squares for her.

A heartfelt reflection on the span of eighty years compared with eternity, and how our choices shape where we spend forever. Gwen reminds us that five months of prayer and church in a lifetime is not enough — true life is found in a living relationship with Christ, who offers us everything as joint heirs with Him.

A heartfelt Tea & Whiskers reflection on living with chronic pain, the difference between despair and depression, and how Pilgrim’s Progress and Acts 16 remind us that God’s promises are the key out of Doubting Castle.

A reflective Thursday Brew with Gwen about her 1978 writing class — faith, free will, and why God allows suffering. A testimony of how everyday encounters can strengthen faith and inspire writing.

Set against the vast Australian outback, Gwen’s short story follows Jacki, a girl raised in secrecy by a boundary rider. When tragedy strikes, her hidden identity unravels, leading to a powerful moment of survival, revelation, and hope.

One of my students reminded me recently how thrilling it can be to wait for a new tv episode week by week. Experiencing the story unfolding alongside millions of others. It made me reflect on my own moments of being swept up in stories, and how they’ve really shaped my understanding of different medias, and helped forge my love of storytelling.

This may seem like something very small, and not at all worthy of commenting on, but often I think progress is the accumulation of tiny, little triumphs and not so much the great, magnificent trophy.

When I was first diagnosed with fibro my Mum took me along to a fibromyalgia meetup at Arthritis SA. I was all of nineteen, fresh off being unable to remain at university doing Creative Writing, despite trying so very hard to remain, and enjoying myself there.  

Click went with my camera. I waited, expecting the bird to fly off, scared by my presence and the camera click. Instead, the New Holland Honeyeater hopped onto another flower.

It’s true. I’m on a hilarious quest to find you. It’s hilarious, because, it’s a topic of much amusement and laughter, and you know what, that’s okay. It is actually pretty funny that I haven’t found you amongst all the fish in this ocean that apparently exist out there....

I have just returned from seeing How to Tame Your Dragon – the live action remake, and I thought I’d take a moment to share with you some of my thoughts. So, here is some facts first off—

‘Where is my boob?’ I looked with consternation as my granddaughter Natalie pulled a pair of bras from the shopping bag in which she had brought me a set of clothes. I had spent two days in hospital with a gastro bug and felt that to go home fully clothed rather than in pajamas and dressing gown would help my self-esteem considerably.

I don't know if other people with Fibromyalgia experience this particular frustration, but I thought I'd talk about it, as it's something I've noticed over the years: The frequency in which I change clothes - in a single day.