God Whispers

My mother had Alzheimer’s disease for many years. She degenerated from being an alert, intelligent woman to a forgetful woman (“Dear, I think I’ve locked the keys in the house”), then to a woman who was barely there. A fast-aging woman who lay upon a bed in a nursing home. She had all but disappeared. For quite a long time after Mum stopped talking, she sang. Formerly a successful singer, she had a lovely soprano voice. Once-popular songs and hymns rang through the wards, blessing other oldies and the nurses. She worshipped God in her singing, arresting workers in their footsteps to listen. And pray. She grew silent. Eventually she was unable to speak or sing at all and simply lay there. We’d visit her, bringing flowers and perfume, anything she used to love and would, we hoped, enjoy. We’d walk along the flower-edged paths to the large building. Through the wide passageways, smelling dinner cooking already. All the familiar smells of a nursing home. F...

Jenny and I were paddling, sometimes floating, hanging on to the edges of a rubber raft in shallow water. It was an unpatrolled beach on the Gold Coast.   The warm sun lulled us into a hazy, ‘half with it’ state as we talked … Suddenly Jenny interrupted. “Nettie, can you touch the bottom?” her voice curled tightly around the question mark. I poked my toes down. Further and further. All I felt was cool, deep water and no sand at all. What had happened to the beach? “We’re way out!” I exclaimed, looking in dismay at the fast-receding beach. “We’re caught in a rip!” Jenny was a good a swimmer so was less concerned than I was. I was scared. Soon we were out in the menacing-looking ocean, surrounded by turbulent waves as strong currents slapped against one another and splashed wildly. I felt helpless. Were we going to drown? “Let’s praise God,” Jenny suggested. “You know, like Paul and Silas.” So we did. Out loud against the roar of the crashin...

I drifted in and out of sleep all day, still feeling sick and light-headed. In the afternoon the giggling of girls wafted in from the garden where they plucked snails from the hibiscus shrubs. The snails – intended as food for Japanese soldiers during the war – had reached plague proportions and provided one of the daily chores for the girls.                            The hill at the back of the school. Ocean in the distance. Peter called from the doorway while he was on duty organising the girls. “Feeling any better, Jeanette?” “A bit, thanks.” “It’s nearly five o’clock,” he continued. “Are you ready for Miss Marchment to come over?” So she had told him about dinner. She really was bringing FOOD. So kind of her but ... I still felt sick. How on earth would I get it down? “Okay Peter, I’ll get ready now.” I hauled myself out of bed and shi...

                                                                                                                                  Photo of classrooms at Madina Girls High School, PNG 1973 God, help! Send someone! I prayed. I’d been healthy nearly all the time I taught in New Ireland. But that morning I woke to waves of burning heat, tiredness and nausea. The room seemed to reel around me. No way could I get up and teach that day. In fact, I felt so sick I didn’t know how to contact Miss Marchment (aka Mrs Barrington, the headmistress in my novel Lantern Light). I was too weak to walk and there were no phones in our houses. The high-pitche...

Sunday night many years ago. Burleigh Heads. "Have you set your alarm?" my well-meaning mother asked. "You'll need a good sleep tonight. But you mustn't sleep in!" "It's fine," I replied, "I've set it for seven. I want to get as much sleep as possible." I pushed away the fears that plagued me as I faced a new teaching job. I was still very tired after a long illness. The next day I would start work – the first job I'd had for many long months. Though still tired and unwell, I wanted to work. So . . . I was having an early night and planned to get up as late as possible. A nice long sleep would definitely help.   I turned off my bed lamp, trying to ignore my feelings of apprehension. I slept deeply. Photo by Pam Bishop I woke early.  The air was electric with the Presence of God. Dim light from the first rays of sunshine lit my room. I looked at the silent alarm clock. A quarter to six, not seve...

I have changed all the names in this story as I have forgotten a few.  A group of university bushwalkers walked for about five days in the Carnarvon Ranges long before civilisation made them accessible to everyone. See the header on my Facebook page. That's me on the right. “Franny,” I called. “Be careful when you reach this part. The ground’s all broken  up.   Bit scary.” I clung to a scrap of wind-tattered foliage in loose, gravelly soil near the top of the mountain. Franny was puffing. “Okay,” she called. “I hope we’re near the top.” Just a fleeting thought flickered in my mind: all around me, except for the dirt a few inches from my face, was air.   High altitude air. What if . . . I’d already had to silence my fear of heights. It would be easy to slip. Beside me a stone rolled and clattered down, pinging on and off the mountain side. Then silence. The great valley and Carnarvon Gorge yawned beneath me. We reached the top and wal...

                                “Is it safe to walk along that little road up the hill?” I pointed towards the road. Jim ‘hmmed’. “Yes, fine,” David replied. “Bit steep though.” “I don’t mind that, “I told him. “I’ll take a thermos of tea and have a break at the top.” “It looks a bit like rain,” Jennifer said. But by then I was determined to go. “I’ll be fine,” I told her. I peered out through the fig tree at the clear sky. “I’ll be back before it rains, I’m pretty sure. But I’ll put my umbrella in.” As I set out, with my journal, a small umbrella and a thermos of tea in a basket, I was glad I’d made the effort to get up a bit earlier. The skies were blue and sunlight lay in slanting golden sheets across the grass. I wondered what the walk into an unfamiliar area would bring. When I had prayed that morning, as I usually did, for God’s protection on my comings and goings, something...